"I certainly hope that you didn't propose to me just so you and I could be celibate until the big day. It's been two weeks."

"What?" Erik was flipping cable channels, his arm over my shoulder as I sat next to him on the couch. It was mid-afternoon, and in front of us, Michael was on the floor, bumping wooden cable cars against each other, creating stories about Thomas and his friends on the island of Sodor.

"You heard me," I grumbled, rubbing the top of his thigh with my good hand. "Don't pretend you didn't hear what I just said. And I'm not some delicate doll that can get broken just by being manhandled or anything. Still, it's been two weeks and it's driving me crazy."

"That should be incentive enough to rush the wedding, don't you think?" Erik chuckled, his hand lazily playing with my hair. "But before you assume that I was saving it for the big night, there is the fact that your mother is staying under the same roof, next to my bedroom, which you happen to have taken over and managed to have kicked me out of."

"So?" I whispered. "It's not like she doesn't know about the birds and the bees. Besides, I didn't take anything over. You chose to sleep on the couch from that first night and I don't know why you haven't been back. But don't change the subject, Erik. I'm sure my mother is familiar with the things that couples do."

"I'm sure she does, but she's still your mother. And I'm not about to do all the bad things I can possibly think of with you when you're supposed to be recovering - and when she's sleeping right next door," Erik said, a knowing smile on your face. "You're blushing, by the way. You can say it, too - whatever it is couples do."

"Don't make this about me. I think you've impressed her enough. She won't mind," I said. "You're her doctor, for crying out loud."

"Being her doctor doesn't mean that I forget that I'm also her soon-to-be son-in-law, Sam," he said. "And as for me taking the couch, there's your hand to contend with. You almost passed out when Michael grabbed it that one time, remember? So no, no foolish business till it at least your arm stops swelling."

"But what if it's going to take another two weeks before my arm stops swelling? That's just an excuse. I might as well go home and get my vibe-"

"Shh," Erik warned, glancing at Michael as I blushed. I pouted again, and Erik only laughed. "You'll have to wait, impatient grasshopper. I promise you it will be worth it. Besides, I like seeing you this...frisky."

"Don't tell me you're really very conservative underneath, Erik. I mean, you can't be that old-fashioned."

"When it comes to my fiancee's mother living under the same roof, yes," he said, trying to look serious but I could see the corners of his mouth lifting. He was teasing me these past two weeks and it was driving me crazy. "Besides, have you heard yourself when we do it? It's a miracle your neighbors didn't complain the last time-"

"Shut up!" I exclaimed, punching him with my good hand.

"Is everything alright with you two?" Anna asked, coming down the stairs as Erik and I straightened ourselves on the couch. I suddenly felt like a teenager caught necking with her boyfriend on the couch. "You two can get it on if you want, you know," she smiled. "Don't stop on account of me being here. I won't mind. Really, I won't."

"Mom!" I wailed, now really embarrassed as Erik laughed out loud.

Anna went into the kitchen as Erik removed my hand from his thigh, which was bordering pretty close to risqué territory. She returned with a tray of cookies and milk for Michael and set on the coffee table before us, forcing Erik to remove his bare feet from the table top. I wondered what he really thought of having his house suddenly filled with members of my family. Except for the studio, which I had yet to set foot into, we'd basically taken over his whole house.

Still, I was grateful that Erik had chosen to take time off from his clinic duties, even though he still spent a few hours in the afternoon inside his office and sometimes late into the night. Erik wasn't just the head doctor of Trinity Medical. He was also spokesperson for the clinic itself, and the services they offered to the community. So even though he may only see patients three days a week, it meant that the rest of the days were spent doing outreach, and managing and mentoring the interns needing hands-on experience in community medicine. Some afternoons, when he thought I was asleep with Michael, Erik would leave his door to his office slightly ajar and from the stairs, I could hear snippets of conversation here and there.

One of those snippets happened to be about Serena. After learning of what happened, the rest of the members had voted to remove her from the board of directors, not even requiring Erik's presence there. I had also learned that after completing the required 10-day hold, she had elected to stay at the hospital for further observation and therapy, in accordance to something she and Erik had agreed upon, that he wouldn't charge her with trespassing if she completed a full month of treatments - though he warned her to expect assault charges from me for my injuries.

When Serena slashed me that second time, it cut the tendon to my fingers, making it impossible for me to basically grip a pencil, not even a paint brush. I had been given a splint to wear but since starting occupational therapy, they also built me a tenodesis splint which made me feel like I had a robotic arm. If I wanted to flex my finger, all I had to do was extend my wrist and the splint would do the work for me. It worked in helping me grip a pencil, but I had no strength in it. Drawing and painting were out of the question for now.

Which was probably why I had become crankier since the surgery. I wanted to paint again, color with pastel crayons and sketch Anna as she sat by the window staring at the beach, or paint Erik and Michael taking naps or all three of them building sand castles together. Instead, all I could do was snap pictures and save it for later.

Therapy was every other day though the exercises, which included passive range of motion exercises for my hand, was every hour, every day. Erik had not just become my doctor. He'd also become my occupational therapist and my coach. It all made me feel so helpless.

But I didn't exactly feel that helpless. Two of my paintings sold the night of the gallery exhibit, for an amount that I never expected. It wasn't that high, but it was high enough, especially for me. Most of all, it gave me that sense of accomplishment. Even Chuck had heard of the show through two friends who had been at the gallery exhibit. He wasn't happy to hear what happened to my hand and forearm but he was relieved to know that I was staying with Erik and that he was taking good care of me.

My painting was back on Erik's wall a week after the exhibit, and we'd been told that it would be featured in some national art magazine in the next few months. Olivia also got her portrait back and it, too, would be included in the feature.

Anna handed me my cell phone, bringing me back to the present. "Your phone's been buzzing for the last hour," she said. "You should turn on the ringer so you won't miss any calls."

I glanced at the number on the screen. I had had Michael's playgroup over to the house twice already, and I wondered if it was my turn again. I remember how everyone had such a great time, not a single child choosing to stay inside the house but outside on the beach instead. But I didn't want to take advantage of Erik in that regard - live in his house and also have the my play group over anytime they pleased. Olivia enjoyed it so much last week that she had asked to join the group. In two weeks, it would be her turn where she opened her house for an afternoon with all the other children.

But the number on my screen didn't belong to any of the mothers that I knew. It was George.

George never called me unless it was very important. Instead of calling my voicemail to listen to his message, I called him. He answered on the second ring.

"You're alive," he exclaimed. "For a minute there, I wondered if I had walk up to our windows and see if I could smell a body or something."

"George, that's gross," I said. "I had a little incident with my hand, and I'm staying at a friend's house till I get better. I should have told you. I'm sorry."

"No problem, Sam," he said jovially. "Erik stopped by to tell me that you were staying with him for awhile. You and Michael."

"For now."

"Anyway, just called you because your David was just at your house. I thought maybe you were home, since your car's there, but I didn't see you open the door to let him in."

"You mean he let himself in?" I sat up straight as Erik's hand lingered lightly on my shoulder. He mouthed David's name and I nodded, distracted. "How'd he do that? I had all the locks changed."

I heard George click his tongue. "Don't tell me you hid the new key in the same place. If not, somewhere close to it."

"Oh, shit," I muttered, feeling stupid. "I put it in this gnome thing that doubles as a secret hideaway. How long was he in there?"

"About twenty minutes but I'm not sure. I saw him leave with an envelope - a big one. Like, for documents. That's why I had to call you and when you didn't answer, well, I started thinking the worst, you know? Keep in touch, kid, alright? I miss my little munchkin, by the way."

I sighed. "Thanks, George. I'll bring Michael over soon. Hey, I owe you one."

"Nah," he said. "Just take care of yourself? I do neighborhood watch, remember? Just doing my job."

He hung up and I pushed myself up from Erik's couch. Since he'd began sleeping on it two weeks earlier, he'd been complaining of a bad back and I didn't blame him. It was comfortable, but it wasn't exactly one to give one's back enough support.

"Is everything alright?" Erik asked. Anna sat on the floor next to Michael and asked him if she could join him in his game. He nodded and handed her a train named Percy.

"I don't know," I said. "But I need to get to the house. George said that David was just there and he left with an envelope. But I don't know what he'd be looking for."

"He didn't say anything yesterday when he dropped Michael off," Erik said. He'd always been outside with me waiting for David to pick up and drop Michael off, not wanting me to be alone with David at any time. "If he needed something from your house, why couldn't he have asked you then?"

David had been unusually cooperative ever since my surgery - actually, since his confrontation with Erik at the emergency room.

"I don't know, but I need to get to the house."

"I'll watch Michael," Anna said. "It's time for his nap anyway."

"Are you sure you'll be okay, mom?" I asked. She was still in the midst of her detox, taking suboxone to help with the withdrawal symptoms. For her hepatitis, Erik had prescribed dietary changes, which meant that none of us were eating any fried foods and red meats while Anna was cooking.

She nodded. "Of course."

"Olivia's next door. And Consuelo will check on her," Erik said, getting up and grabbing his car keys from the counter. I was wearing a light summer dress and didn't need to change into anything else. I kissed Michael and Anna good-bye and within minutes, we were headed to my house.

Erik was silent as we drove, but the moment he parked the car in the driveway, he said what had been on my mind the entire time. "Why on earth did you leave a duplicate key where he could find it?"

I sighed. "I never thought he'd do anything like this, Erik. The most he's done is take out the trash, and that's it. I didn't think he'd try to look at the gnomes by the door. I mean, you do the same thing at your house. Second planter to the left?" I said, mimicking Olivia's voice.

"I also have two dogs, Sam, and you don't," Erik said.

"It wouldn't have mattered if the dogs were familiar with him anyway," I said, opening the car door with my left hand and pushing it open. "Look, Erik, there's nothing I can do about that now."

"What could he want? Bank records? Jewelry? Can you think of anything?" Erik asked as he walked towards the door first and nudged the newest looking gnome with his foot. It tipped to the ground, revealing a black panel at the base.

"Oh, Sam, you and Michael need to move in with me permanently. I thought I took care of that when I asked you to marry me," he said, picking up the gnome and taking the key from the base. "David's just lucky I wasn't here."

Erik had been picking up my mail everyday, dropping by the house while I was at therapy, and then watering the plants if they needed it. But with the drought-resistant plants that I had planted though, he really didn't need to do much. Eunice had converted her English garden into a rock garden of sorts, complete with pebbles and rocks arranged to look like a dry creek bed. She actually did have a deep pool there at one time, complete with water flowing between rocks, but after a gang of raccoons decimated her prized koi, she gave up and turned it into a dry Japanese garden.

I headed straight into my bedroom and searched for the plastic bin underneath the bed. Already I could tell that David had found my pastel sketches. He'd left the ones of Ojai untouched, but every single one of Michael was gone, from when Michael was a baby till the most recent one of him laughing at bubbles floating overhead. My hands were shaking as I stared at the half empty box in front of me. Behind me, Erik was pacing the floor.

"Why is he doing this to you?" He demanded.

"It's just what he does. He knows it hurts me," I said, fighting the tears from falling down my cheeks. I'd had such a wonderful day, I thought. Big improvements towards my therapy goals, less swelling in my forearms after the end of each day. And I was happy. Really happy.

But what if I couldn't paint again, draw again? How could I capture my son's beautiful smile with my hand if my therapy stalled - if, just maybe, 70% was as good as it would get? As an artist, I needed no less than a 100%.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Erik whispered. He knelt on the floor behind me, his arms circling my waist. He held me as I began to cry softly. What was David going to do with the drawings of his own son? Would he sell them, too, just to earn a quick buck? But who would buy drawings of someone else's child? My mind was caught in a whirlwind of angry thoughts, things that I wanted to do with David if only I could.

"Do you want me to check anything else here? Would he have taken your jewelry?" Erik asked.

"I have no need for jewelry, Erik. It's what makes me such a cheap date," I said bitterly. "All I really have is-"

The words never left my lips, my mouth turning dry. I scrambled to my feet and rushed to my closet. My clothes were on the floor, dresses in hangers lying on top of them. Boxes from the top shelf had all been opened and left where they were.

"What are you looking for?" Erik asked. "What do you have that David wants?"

I pointed to a box on the top shelf. It stood by itself, its lid half open, one of Eunice's hand-painted scarves draping from its side.

Erik took the box down. It smelled of mothballs and I saw him crinkle his nose as he brought the box out of the closet. I grabbed the lid and threw it to the floor, my good hand going through the silk scarves that had been neatly folded when they'd been arranged inside it.

"Sam, tell me, what did David take?"

I pulled out the scarves, searching for a thick envelope I already knew would no longer be there. Maybe I should have stored them inside a safety deposit box, I thought. Maybe then, David wouldn't have found them. But even if he did find them, he knew that his name was not on any of them at all.

"The house papers," I whispered, finally giving up my search for the envelope that bore the documents to the house that Eunice had given me. "That's what David's always wanted. This house. I don't know what he can do with a title and documents that don't have his name, but-"

"- it won't matter because he wants it and now he's got it. Not only that, he's got you upset and scared," Erik said grimly. "Yet there's still nothing he can do, Sam. It's yours fair and square. He was never on the title, was he?"

"No, he never was. Eunice died before I met David and when we got married, I never added his name to the house because Rosie kept the papers for me," I said, panic finally setting in and I knew I wasn't thinking straight, or making any sense. "But it won't matter now whether his name is on the documents or not, Erik. If he's after the house, he'll find a way to get it.  Whatever David wants, he gets."

He always did.