Friday, May 13, 1983

"Congratulations, again, Donna!" I called as she headed to her car. I closed the front door after hosting this month's book club meeting and smiled at Sandy Chen, who'd lingered to help me clean up. Shari Washington and Barbara Milligan had left a few minutes before Donna Eleese had.

Sensitive to Al's sobriety, I always held more of a tea party when I hosted book club. If the other ladies had noticed that I never served alcohol they hadn't commented on it. Sandy paused in gathering up teacups. "That's quite the rock Jareth gave her, isn't it?" she said.

Jareth Anton had proposed to Donna earlier in the week. Typical for shy Donna she hadn't flaunted her ring, but it hadn't taken long for us to notice it when she reached for a sandwich as the large diamond caught the light.

"Donna! When did he propose?" gushed Shari.

Blushing prettily, Donna said, "Sunday night."

"I was working right next to you yesterday. I don't remember seeing it."

"I didn't wear it to work."

Sandy gaped at her. "Why on earth not? Girl, that ring should be flaunted!"

Donna's flush deepened and I hurried to rescue her, asking to get a closer look at it. I exclaimed over the details in the setting and asked her to tell the story of the proposal. After she explained how Jareth had hidden it in a flute of champagne, and that thankfully she'd noticed it before actually sipping the drink, I told the story of how Al had proposed to me, easily segueing to a discussion of the book. Donna shot me a grateful glance as attention moved on from her.

I smiled at Sandy as I stacked plates. "He's got good taste."

"In jewelry and women," she agreed. "Have you met him?"

We walked to the kitchen with the dishes, placing them on the counter next to the sink.

"No, have you?"

Sandy shook her head. "I'm curious to find out what sort of guy could land Donna. She's so shy."

I grinned as we headed back to the living room for more dishes. "I'm curious, too," I admitted. "You know, Sandy, I can handle this."

Sandy picked up a serving tray with a few sandwiches still on it. "Your husband's going to be back with the girls soon and you'll have a more relaxing evening if you let me help you get this all taken care of first." She headed to the kitchen before me, smirking as she tossed over her shoulder, "Besides, you know I need to see my girl Gracie before I go!"

Grace had claimed Sandy into the circle of her favorite people after the decorations she'd done for her birthday party. I wondered if the fact that Sandy shared Grace's Asian heritage somehow played a small part in their connection as well, although Sandy's background was Chinese and not Vietnamese. Grace knew we had adopted her and deeply loved her. We made sure she knew how much her Mama Trinh and Papa Jim had loved her. As she got older, Grace had begun noticing how she looked different from the rest of us.

"Sandy," I said as I joined her in the kitchen with the last of the serving dishes. She'd already started filling the sink with hot, soapy water. "You're pretty resourceful and I don't want to bother Al with this. It's a pretty big favor, though."

She faced me. "What is it, Beth?"

"I want Grace to be able to see what her birth mother and her brother looked like. We were stationed in Texas when we adopted her and their apartment was totally destroyed. Al was able to get photos of her birth father from the base, and we've been keeping them for her, but that's not enough. I've hit dead ends in my attempts."

Sandy turned off the water and gently put the china dishes in the sink. "I'll definitely see what I can dig up. Write down what you know and I'll put my superior research skills to the test for you. You're a good momma, Beth."

"Thanks, Sandy. I can do the dishes."

"No, go write down the info for me. I've got this," she smiled.

Reluctantly, I left and slipped into the den, sitting at Al's desk and reaching into the bottom right hand drawer for the file folder labeled "Carver." I jotted down what little we knew about Trinh Carver and Craig, the small bits of additional information I'd been able to dredge up through various research attempts of my own. Just as I finished and had slipped the folder back into the drawer, the doorbell rang.

Wondering which of the ladies had forgotten something, I was surprised when I opened the door to Sam Beckett standing on the doorstep.

"Sam! Hi, come on in."

Sam looked uncertainly around as he stepped inside, a file folder in his hand. The silence of the house with the girls gone was definitely a new experience for him. He checked his watch and looked at me with confusion in his eyes, his brow furrowed. "It's Friday, isn't it?"

"Oh, Sam, did Al forget to tell you I was hosting book club this evening? He took the girls out to play miniature golf."

"No, he told me, but he said he'd be back by 8:30. I needed to get his opinion on an idea I had." Sam lifted the folder as he spoke.

I laughed. "Sam, with four little girls in tow, any time Al gave you was a rough estimate. I'm sorry he isn't back yet, but go ahead and have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you. If you're sure I'm not imposing..."

I nudged him to the sofa, tucking the notes I'd written for Sandy into my pocket. "Sit down, Sam." I turned the TV on; it was an Atlanta Braves game, and Sam grinned. "I'll be in the kitchen."

Sandy was peeking out of the doorway when I returned to the kitchen. "Is that Sam Beckett in your living room?"

"Apparently he and Al made arrangements to go over something. Al thought he'd be back by now but, as you can see, something's held him up." A gleam came into my eye and I grinned. "I'll take over the dishes, Sandy, you go keep Sam company until Al gets back."

Sandy looked stunned for a moment then grinned back. She dried her hands quickly, smoothed a hand over her sleek hair, and stepped out into the living room.

"Dr. Beckett! What a surprise!" I heard her exclaim.

"Dr. Chen, hello. You're in Beth's book club?"

"Yes, but call me Sandy."

"If you'll call me Sam."

I wanted to continue eavesdropping on them, but knew I had to get the dishes done before Al came home with the girls. I set about washing the saucers (Sandy had already finished with the teacups), carefully lining them in the dish drainer and then worked on the serving trays. I dried everything with a dishtowel before entering the living room and rejoining Sam and Sandy.

Sam was enthusiastically discussing the potential of computer databases for research with Sandy as I sat in an armchair near the sofa. Sandy turned her head and winked at me before expounding on her own thoughts.

"Beth, what do you think?" Sam asked, drawing me into the conversation.

"What happens if there's a power outage?" I asked. "You must remember you're talking to a former nurse. If we didn't have access to a patient's records when we needed them, we'd be in a world of trouble."

Sam considered that as Sandy piped up, "Beth, do you know how much easier finding information would be if everything was stored in a computer database?" She looked meaningfully at me and I had to admit she had a point.

"That reminds me," I said, reaching into my pocket and handing the notes to Sandy.

She smiled and nodded, tucking them into her purse.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"Oh, just a little something Beth and I are working on." Seeing Sam's curiosity wasn't going to be sated, Sandy changed the subject. "So, Sam, I got tickets to the taping of The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson for next Friday. Would you like to go with me?"

I raised my eyebrows at her forwardness and she grinned insouciantly. Sam seemed intrigued but hesitant.

Before he could answer, keys rattled in the lock and Al opened the door, letting our four daughters inside. Bridget and Michele danced into the house, chanting, "We beat Daddy! We beat Daddy!"

Theresa caught sight of Sam and exclaimed, "Dr. Sam!" while Grace spotted Sandy and made a beeline for her, crying out, "My Sandy!"

Al looked curiously at me and I smiled as I hugged the twins, mouthing that I'd explain later. Nodding, he apologized to Sam for being late and politely greeted Sandy.

"Well, I guess I'll be heading out," Sandy said, rising to her feet.

"But I wanted to play with you," protested Grace.

"Next time, my girl," Sandy said, as she reached for her purse.

Sam rose. "Sandy, I'd love to."

She looked confused for a moment.

"I'd love to go with you next Friday," Sam reiterated.

Sandy beamed and tore a scrap of paper off the notes I'd given her. She scribbled quickly on it and handed it to Sam. "That's my number."

Al's jaw dropped as Sam took it with a smile and offered to walk Sandy to her car. "I'll be right back," Sam said.

Sandy said goodbye and led Sam to the door.

When they were outside, Al turned to me. "What just happened?"

I laughed. "Sandy asked Sam out on a date. To a taping of Johnny Carson."

"Dr. Sam's going on a date?" asked Theresa. She pouted, her little crush on him thwarted by Sandy.

Grace had a different perspective on it. "Dr. Sam and my Sandy?" she asked, with a big smile on her face.

"Slow down. They're just going to watch a TV show get made," I said, although I was thrilled to see the development. So was Al, judging by the smirk on his face. "How was the outing?" I asked him, hoping to get the girls off this topic of conversation before Sam returned.

"We beat Daddy," Michele once again said. Bridget nodded.

Al shrugged and pulled the score sheet from the miniature golf out of his pocket. "It was the dinosaur hole," he explained. "I couldn't stay out of the tar pit this time." He winked.

"I didn't beat Daddy," Grace said. "But I don't care." She hugged him.

"Thanks, Gracie," Al said, lifting her up and kissing her cheek.

Sam came back in with a smile on his face.

"So, Sandy Chen," said Al, grinning at him.

Blushing, Sam cleared his throat. "Well, um, I..."

"My Sandy is a lot of fun," Grace informed Sam.

"Not as much fun as me," muttered Theresa under her breath.

"Come on, girls, let's get ready for bed," I quickly interjected before Sam was peppered with questions about his upcoming date. "Tell Dr. Sam goodnight."

Good-natured grumbling followed, but the girls dutifully told Sam goodnight, hugging him, and then insisting that Daddy had to come upstairs to tuck them in.

"I'll be up in fifteen minutes," Al assured them. "I expect you all to be clean and in jammies by then."

As we went upstairs, Bridget and Michele asked if they could "please please please" use the shower in my bathroom while I bathed Grace and Theresa. "That way we get done faster," they wheedled.

"Fine," I agreed. They collected their underwear and pajamas and followed me to the bathroom where I popped shower caps on their heads and started the shower for them. "No monkeyshines in here, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am. I mean, no, ma'am. I mean..." said Bridget.

"We'll be good, Mommy," promised Michele.

I leveled a hard stare at them before heading to get Grace and Theresa ready for their bath. Theresa took an eternity to select a nightgown while Grace dithered over which pair of babydoll jammies she wanted to wear—green or pink. The twins were long finished with their shower by the time I got the younger girls out of the tub and into their pajamas.

"My turn to pick the story," Grace declared.

"Okay. Theresa, go ahead and climb in bed while Grace picks the book tonight. I'm going to go check on the twins."

They weren't in their bedroom, nor were they in either their bathroom or the master bath. I shook my head and called, "Bridget! Michele!" as I walked towards the hallway. Giggles drifted up the stairs and I rolled my eyes.

"You two better not disturb Daddy and Dr. Sam," I called from the top of the stairs.

An explosion of laughter from Sam sounded at the same time that Al's annoyed voice called back, "Too late! Michele, give me that!"

I hurried down the stairs, Theresa and Grace on my heels, wondering what on earth was going on downstairs. Bridget was giggling as Michele danced out of Al's reach, and Sam was laughing so hard tears were coming out of his eyes.

"Michele Gertrude, you'd better listen to Daddy right now," I said sternly. It was hard to stay serious once I got a good look at her though.

The twins had obviously started digging through the giveaway box I had been working at filling and found a relic from the early days of our marriage. Michele had a Beatles moptop wig perched on her head. Despite it being in rough shape from age and multiple moves, it was recognizable.

Sam's eyes danced as he looked at Al. "Your Beatles wig, I presume?"

Michele finally clued in that her father was not laughing and she pulled the wig off her head. Handing it to Al, she sheepishly said, "It was in the giveaway box, Daddy."

Al dropped the wig onto the coffee table and shook his head. "All of you have exactly two minutes to get into bed, capisce?"

Four little girls scurried up the stairs and Al sighed as he dropped onto the couch.

"I didn't know that thing was still hanging around," he said.

Sam hadn't stopped grinning. "There must be a story behind that," he said, pointing at the wig as he sat at the other end of the couch from Al.

I perched on the arm of the sofa next to Al and grinned. "My fascination with the Fab Four after they were on the Ed Sullivan show made Al a tad jealous. I came home from work one day and he met me at the door wearing that wig."

Howling with laughter, Sam wiped at his eyes.

"Hey, it's not like I could grow my hair like that on active duty," Al defended himself.

"You looked adorable," I assured him. He rolled his eyes. "You did!" I scooped up the wig and quickly put it on his head.

"BETH!"

Sam covered his mouth to try to contain the next round of laughter as Al snatched the wig from his head and promptly held it out of my reach.

"The fifth Beatle," Sam finally got out around giggles.

Standing and trying to muster as much dignity as possible, Al said, "I'm going to tuck the girls in. I'll be back after bedtime stories." He went upstairs, still holding the wig.

Sam and I exchanged a look and then snickered again.

"Is he upset?" Sam asked after a moment.

I shook my head. "Just a little embarrassed, maybe. He did look good in the wig, though. We even went out dancing with him wearing it back then." Grinning, I added, "One time someone thought I was out with Ringo Starr seeing us from behind."

"Did you end up in a gossip column?"

"No, but it was one of Al's fellow pilots who'd seen us, and he took a little too much pleasure in reporting my 'dalliance' to Al the next day. In front of all the other pilots."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "I can't imagine that went over too well."

"Not well at all," I nodded. "Of course, Al didn't want to own up to wearing a wig to his buddy, so he made up a story about being there as well. Then he laid into him for trying to make me look bad in front of the others, that if he was concerned about our marriage he should have talked to Al privately."

Sam nodded, absorbing the story. "That must have been awkward the next time you all got together."

"That pilot was transferring anyway. It's a small Navy but we've never crossed paths again. I don't even remember what his name was."

Sam nodded again. We sat in silence a moment and then I smiled at him.

"So next Friday. Are you picking Sandy up? Is it a date?"

He blushed ever so slightly and then nodded. "Yeah, it's a date."

"She likes daffodils," I said.

Sam grinned. "Daffodils it is," he said.