They were going back to the World Series. Josey joined the mob of players, shouting his exuberance to his fellow teammates, soaking in every nuance, savoring every sweet moment. They'd all worked so hard for this chance. Josey himself was most likely going to be named MVP of the NLCS – he'd hit a cool .400 with five home runs and 11 RBIs during the grueling seven-game series, including the walk-off homer in last night's game six – but he knew he was nothing without his teammates backing him up and lifting him up along the way. When he came up for air, still hugging on catcher and good friend Miguel Pinero, he sought and found the standing and cheering figures of his parents and younger sister in the stands near the dugout. His sister was wiping proud tears from her face and his parents wore twin expressions of pride and happiness. He blew each of them a kiss, then tilted his face to the heavens and tapped over his heart twice before pointing up. Silently he prayed, as he did after every game he'd played his entire career, for the safety and long life of two men he'd never even met, but who'd saved his parents' lives when his mother had been seven months pregnant with him. Without those two fearless men – whose names his parents had never learned – he would not be here today. His parents never talked too much about that dark time or exactly what had happened, but his mother had always made sure that he and his sister had included the two men in their nightly prayers as long as Josey could remember. Gracias por mi vida, he whispered, then ran with the rest of his team to the clubhouse to bask in a well-earned celebration. *** "Thank you so much for coming," Bernard Berman said, shaking the hand of yet another city official come to pay his respects. The modest house was already bursting at the seams with people, yet the line to get in was still down the block. Bernard chose to think of it as a testament to the legacy his daughter had left behind. "If you need anything..." "Thank you. We'll let you know." Once again, his hand was pressed into a firm shake, then it was time to greet the next person in line. Grief surged up within him, but he ruthlessly tamped it down. Not now. Not here. Now was about the celebration of a life. He could mourn later, when it was just family. He'd shed enough tears over the past few days. "Mr. Berman." A pretty, vaguely familiar-looking woman about his age stood before him. "I'm Elena Lynch. Mary's mother." Mary. He briefly closed his eyes, gathering strength, then blinked them open. "Of course. How is she? And your granddaughter?" He was proud of the fact that his voice didn't waver. "Much better, thank you. They should be able to come home from the hospital tomorrow. Mary wanted me to tell you –" "It's alright," he interrupted. "You don't have to say anything." He didn't think he could handle her pity. He knew he couldn't handle her guilt, no matter how ill-conceived. "No, Mr. Berman, it's not alright," she gently corrected, and in that gentleness, Bernard caught the mild, well-earned rebuke. "How could it be, with your loss? But my family – and six other families – are together and whole today thanks to your daughter's actions. I know it's small comfort to you and yours, but her sacrifice wasn't in vain." "She died doing what she believed in." He clung to that knowledge like a talisman. It was the only thing holding him together. "Helping others. And maybe...maybe now, the scales really are even." Ms. Lynch tilted her head in a puzzled manner. "I don't understand." "Years ago – when Melina was just a child – she was saved by two men." He had no idea why he was talking about this to a complete stranger, but it seemed right. Fitting, in a way. And, out of everyone currently gathered within his home, he thought she might be the only one to truly understand what he'd gone through that long ago night. "Worst night of my life, really, because I couldn't help her or save her, but these two strangers did. I had twenty more years with my daughter because of those men. I got to watch her grow up and have a family of her own and one day I'll get to tell my granddaughter about her extraordinary mother and the lives she changed and the people she saved. So, today, I feel blessed." For the first time since his daughter's death, he truly believed it. Ms. Lynch nodded in understanding, and patted his hand as she shifted to walk inside. "I shall keep those two men in my prayers, as well." "Thank you," he answered sincerely, then turned to the next person in line. *** "And the Oscar goes to..." – the Kodak Theatre was completely silent as the envelope was opened – "...Sabrina Wilcox." There was a roar from the Heaven's Keep crew as Sabrina shakily stood and turned to hug her openly weeping mother, then her misty-eyed husband. "So proud of you, baby," he murmured in her ear, and she gave him a quick, intimate smile before making the long trek towards the stage. By the time the statue was placed in her hands and she was in front of the microphone, she was running on nerves and adrenaline. Everything around her had taken on a dreamlike quality, but she knew she'd remember every detail with crystal clear clarity later. "I, um, wow. Seriously. Thank you so much to the Academy and to everyone that saw the film. It was truly a labor of love." She blinked back her own tears, shoring up the last vestiges of her control and poise. "Thank you to Nelson Cruz for his incredible screenplay and to Amy Meyers for being the best director and collaborator an actor could hope for, and to the rest of my excellent cast and crew who toiled endlessly to make Heaven's Keep the best movie possible. "My mom always said I could do anything I set my mind to, and Mom, you were right. I love you so much." She gave her mom a watery smile, and held up the Oscar. "But this is dedicated to three special men in my life. My husband, for everything he gives me every day, my father, who I hope is watching from Heaven, and a man named Dean, who literally saved my life when I was ten years old. I never forgot what he said to me that day. You have so much to live for, he told me, and I've taken strength from those words every day, because he was right. I do. Thank you again. I love you all." Another cheer rose through the crowd as she was led to the press room and the waiting, eager throng of reporters. She clutched her award to her chest and smiled, doing an inner dance of glee. Life was pretty damn good. *** Thomas Willa nervously straightened his tie as he stood before the full-length mirror of the hotel closet. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. An arm circled around his waist and he leaned back into the solid chest of Brian, his husband of eight years. "Relax," Brian told him, and just the sound of his voice soothed Thomas' jangled nerves. "I hate crowds." "I know." "And public speaking." "I know." Brian squeezed Thomas' hip before turning him so he could get at Thomas' still crooked tie. "You'll be fine. This is your day. The culmination of your team's hard work." Thomas chuckled, and shook his head. "I love that you use culmination in every day conversation." "That's what you get for marrying an English professor." "I'm just grateful you said yes," Thomas replied, and brushed his lips across Brian's in a fleeting caress. "I would have never been able to do this without you, you know." "I do," Brian smiled, love and warmth lighting his eyes. "Feeling better?" "A little." Thomas placed a hand to his stomach. "Butterflies have calmed down somewhat. At least I'll have the rest of the team to answer questions." "Your team should be proud. You've made history. The Mesadan engine will change lives." "I'll be proud once the engine is in full production and in cars," Thomas replied. "I'll rejoice when the last gas station has closed and the last oil refinery has shut its doors." "You're on the way. Ford and Toyota are already on board." Brian sat on the edge of the bed. He looked so carelessly elegant that Thomas couldn't help but fall in love with him all over again. "What is the story behind the Mesadan name, anyway? You've never said." Thomas sat beside him, and scratched the side of his neck in a nervous gesture. Even though he knew Brian was only asking to keep him from thinking too much about the press conference, he was grateful for the distraction and for Brian for knowing him so well. "Well, it's, uh, a little weird." "I'm listening." "It's an anagram. For Dean and Sam." "Old boyfriends?" Brian teased. "Hardly," Thomas laughed, and reminded himself to relax. "But I wish I'd known them. They saved my mom's life when she was in college. Right before she met my dad." "Wow. This is news. What happened?" "She never said," Thomas replied, with a slight shrug. He'd always wondered himself. "Just that they'd saved her from a fate worse than death, and she wouldn't be alive if not for them. Seems strange to be so grateful to two men I've never met, I know." "Not at all," Brian replied, seriously. "Hell, I'm grateful to them. Without them, you might've never been born, and think of how incomplete my life would be without you." "I love you," Thomas stated, knowing that the words were inadequate to the overwhelming tide of emotions surging through him, but they were all he had. But he knew, for Brian, they were enough. Brian's smile softened. "I love you, too. You ready?" "Yeah." Thomas took a steadying breath, then nodded. He was ready. "Let's go."
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