All familiar characters belong to Janet. The mistakes are mine.

"Stephanie," I heard my dad say in a voice I didn't recognize.

"Dad? What's wrong?"

He didn't speak for a solid minute and my panic increased when he finally did.

"I don't know how to tell you this," he said, "I don't even believe it myself ..."

"Dad, you're scaring me," I told him, my heartbeat edging into terror tempo even though I don't know what's going on. "What happened?"

"There was an accident on Broad Street. A drunk driver hit an oncoming car head on. Stephanie," he said, his voice breaking, "your mother was driving the car that was hit."

"Is Mom okay? Was she taken to the St. Francis?" I asked, picturing a hospital room with beeping machines everywhere.

She'd hate that. And as soon as she's well enough to, my mother will be complaining about the taste of the food or lack of fabric softener in the hospital's sheets.

"She's gone," my dad choked out. "Just ... gone."

Out of thirty plus years of me knowing him, that was the most emotion I've ever heard from my father. And it scared the shit out of me. I don't remember my legs giving out, or making any sounds at all, but suddenly I was sitting on one of the chairs in our kitchen and Ranger was kneeling in front of me.

"Babe, all the blood just drained out of your face. What is it?"

"My mother was in an accident," I whispered, thinking my voice was coming from somewhere other than my mouth.

I was still going over every word my father said, trying to process the news. I lifted my eyes to Ranger's just as two huge tears rolled down my cheeks.

"She didn't make it," I said, right before Ranger's arms came around me and I started crying full-out into his Rangeman t-shirt.

Ranger stood and scooped me up from my chair, took the seat himself, and sat down with me on his lap, taking my phone out of the hand I couldn't feel anymore. Ranger tightened his hold on my body and got the details I really don't want to hear from my dad.

"Mr. Plum," Ranger said. "What happened?"

I tried to get my sniffling and snot under control as my dad repeated what he had told me to Ranger.

"Do you need Stephanie with you?" I heard Ranger ask.

That's right. I shouldn't be sitting here crying. I should be with my family. What's now left of them. Shit. My eyes and nose started to leak again.

I concentrated on the rumble coming from Ranger's chest while he talked, and I took a few deep breaths. I'm an adult. I can do this! Which immediately made me think about Mary Alice, Angie, and Lisa who won't ever see their grandma again.

This time, I bit down on my lower lip to hopefully stop its trembling. It didn't work and Ranger gently rubbed my back with his free hand to lessen the hiccuping sobs that had begun. Ranger disconnected the call a minute later.

"We have to get to the Burg," I said to Ranger, wiping my eyes on the collar of my own shirt since Ranger's is pretty much soaked now.

"Your father doesn't really want company, Babe," Ranger told me. "He's not in a good place right now."

"All the more reason for us to be there," I said. "I'm just going to go splash some water on my face so I won't scare Hal when he sees me on his screen, and then I'll head out. My dad's at home, isn't he?"

I'm positive I heard Ranger ask him that. I hadn't thought to check what number was on my phone before answering it.

"Yes. He just got back from the hospital."

The hospital where my mother's body would stay until she had to go to the funeral home. Okay, so I may be an adult, but I really can't do this. I didn't want to think about my own mother lying there, alone, inside a cold room located in the bowels of St. Francis. And burying her ...

I never gave serious thought to losing my parents. Considering the sheer number of whack-jobs always trying to kill me, I thought I'd be dead long before anyone else I knew.

"Breathe, Babe," I heard Ranger tell me from far away.

He pushed my head down and waited until my breathing became less irrational before letting me go.

"Okay," I said to Ranger. "I'm better. Thanks."

"Whenever you're ready," Ranger said to me, "I'll drive you."

"I swear, I'll be fine if you don't want to deal with my family."

"I'll drive you," he repeated.

I blew out another deep breath and stood up. "I'll be back in a minute."

Ranger held my eyes for a beat. "If you're not, I will come after you."

I gave him the beginnings of a smile. "I know you will, Ranger. I can always count on you being behind me in whatever I'm doing."

I squeezed Ranger's hand and made my way to the bathroom. I turned on the faucet, but couldn't look away from the face in the mirror. I was paler than usual, my eyes were huge and a darker blue than I ever remember them being, and they look haunted. I just remembered why.

"Oh, God," I said out loud, as I replayed the last conversation I had with my mom, beginning to end in my head.

"What, Babe?" Ranger asked me, shutting of the water, apparently not willing to be too far away in case I needed him.

"My mother and I had that fight on Sunday ..."

"Stop it, Stephanie," Ranger told me, in that voice that makes you automatically stand up straighter. "I know what you're going to say, and I want you to stop before you do. You showed your mother respect, which was a lot more than I can say she showed you. She chose to not call you, that was a choice she made. All you asked her to do is ease up on you, Babe. She decided to take it one step further. Don't ever accept the blame for someone else's decisions."

"I just feel so ... so ... guilty. That's my mother's last memory of me," I said to him in the mirror, and another stupid tear managed to leak out.

My mother had told me - in front of Ranger - that I'd made a huge mistake in moving into Ranger's apartment without a marriage certificate, a long term plan, or common sense apparently.

"What is so bad about wanting what everyone here has? What your father and I have?" My mother had asked me that day.

"Mom, there's nothing wrong with the Burg or its thinking if that's how you want to live," I'd told her. "My issue is with you refusing to hear me when I tell you, repeatedly, that I don't want that for myself. I never have. After thirty years of me being your daughter, you still don't seem to listen to, understand, or even like, me."

"You don't believe that?"

"My being different - and thinking differently - than everybody else in this town has always been something you've been ashamed of," I'd said to my mom at the time. "But you know what? I like who and what I am. And I'm actually ashamed of the way you see people who aren't like you. How you just insulted Ranger is a good example of that. Not only is he one of the strongest, most honest, and kindest men you'll ever meet ... he's also standing right here listening to you pretend he isn't. Call me when you want to have a productive conversation with me, because I'm not going to make excuses or apologize for who I turned out to be ... or who I chose to love. I'm healthy and I'm finally happy. Isn't that what parents are supposed to want for their children? Or maybe it's just my happiness that doesn't interest you. Come on, Ranger. We have a dinner at your parents' house to get to."

Now my mother's gone, and I don't have a chance to make things right between us. If I could've made them right. Ranger appeared to have been following my train of thought by watching the expressions on my face. I met his dark brown eyes in our reflection and was tempted to stay there forever, just staring into them. Fortunately for me, Ranger never lets me hide from anything anymore.

"Would you have changed what you told your mother that day?" Ranger said, turning me to face him and cupping my cheek in his hand.

I blew out a breath before answering. "No. I wanted her to accept me ... accept the life I've made for myself. And I wouldn't have backed down if she wasn't going to make an attempt to see that."

"I know it's hard, Babe, but you can't feel guilty for doing what's right for you. If you would have apologized, and from that moment on done everything your mother told you to do, you wouldn't be feeling any less pain right now."

"You're right. I just wish things could have been different between us," I said, miserably.

"Stephanie, things could have been very different, because you would've done anything for her. Your mother is the one who shut you out. As much as you wanted to get closer to her, she made it impossible to."

"I think that's what I'm struggling with," I told Ranger, softly. "Why didn't she want a better relationship with me? What the hell is so wrong with me that she didn't even want to try?"

The change in Ranger was so quick that I was actually startled. The fingers gripping my chin tightened and Ranger's eyes narrowed into a fierce look. This is the Ranger I'd been scared of for the first year of our friendship. My eyes opened wide and I swallowed hard under his intense stare.

"You can grieve, Stephanie," Ranger said, spacing out his words to make sure I heard every one of them. "You can get angry. And you can feel sad. But I don't want to ever hear you ask that question again. Do I make myself clear here? There is nothing bad, wrong, or different enough about you to make her turn her back on her own child. You did everything you could to get through to your mother, and she dug her heels in every step of the way. You can feel as bad as you want and I'll be right here to comfort you, but I will not let your mother make you start doubting yourself again. You're perfect the way you are, Babe. And if Helen couldn't see that, then it was her loss not yours."

My mouth had fallen open a little, and it opened even more when Ranger suddenly lifted me up into his arms and started towards the bedroom. When he put me down next to the bed, all I could do was look up at him. His anger was gone, but the fierceness wasn't.

"Ranger, I ..."

I really have no clue what I was about to say to him.

"Babe, let me do this for you," Ranger told me, quietly. "You need to forget for a while, and I know how to help you do that."

Ranger started with kissing me ... long, slow, drugging kisses that made my eyes drift closed and my mind shut down to everything but the feel and taste of him. Part of me thought this was very wrong, that I shouldn't get to experience something so good when my mother will never experience anything ever again. But Ranger was right. I needed this ... needed him.

Ranger held my face in his hands and made me look at him, really look at him, before he kissed me again. Then Ranger grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. Ranger moved his lips down my neck and dipped his head, pressing a kiss between my breasts and one over my heart. He then undid my bra one-handed, and my breasts and nipples were soon treated to the same care and consideration as my mouth had been.

Ranger didn't rush anything. And he wasn't trying to make me come on demand. I understood that this is one way Ranger was showing me he cares, and that he's here for me, in the most elemental way. And I was grateful for it and him.

When reality returned, Ranger got a hot shower started for me while I found some clothes other than the ones that had just been tossed onto the floor. Ranger joined me in the shower, and took his time massaging - and I guess washing - my body with his large hands and evil shower gel while my eyes bounced back and forth between Ranger's face and the tile wall when every unpleasant thought I had about my mother came rushing back to me seemingly all at once.

I felt slightly more normal as we got redressed and left the apartment, but as soon as Ranger pulled up to the house, and I didn't see my mother's car in their driveway, I lost it again. Every criticism I've ever heard here, angry word spoken or bitter feeling felt, momentarily disappeared as I remembered each time my mother fixed me a bag of leftovers so I wouldn't go hungry when paychecks were scarce. How she told me that Joyce couldn't hold a candle to me when I shared my doubts about being able to capture the skip we were both after. And when she ran over, and probably killed, the guy wearing that rabbit suit when she realized he was trying to abduct me.

"Babe?" Ranger said, stretching out his arm to wipe at the dampness on my face.

"I'm fine," I told him, digging around my bag for something to wipe my face with.

"You aren't, Steph," Ranger told me. "But you will be. You have a lot of people who love you that will be begging for an opportunity to do something to make you feel better."

Ranger reached over and opened the glove compartment of the Turbo, handing me a small box of tissues he had stashed there, probably anticipating a disaster when I'd need them. I wiped my eyes and tried to blow my nose quietly. I was forced to pull it together when Mary Alice and Angie stepped out onto my parents' little porch.

"This is going to be tough for them," I said quietly to Ranger. "I still remember how bad I felt when my mother told me my Grandpa Harry died. And I was much older than they are now."

"Your nieces have you to get them through this, like you had your parents and grandmother."

"I'm going to try," I said, as I opened my door.

Ranger took my hand as we walked up to the house.

"What are you two doing out here?" I asked the girls.

"It's too weird inside," Mary Alice said, her eyes red-rimmed and a little puffy.

Pretty much what mine have looked like since my dad's phone call.

"It doesn't feel right without Grandma in the kitchen," Angie added, trying to choke back a sob.

"I know it doesn't," I told them, "but you do have your mother, Albert, and us if you want to talk or something. If either of you need anything, I want you to call me, okay? I'm going to tell your mom that you can come visit me at Rangeman anytime you want to or she needs you to."

Mary Alice perked up slightly at that. "Can we watch movies on your flat screen?"

"Yep. You'll even have access to all the snacks Ella sneaks me."

"Babe."

"I'm being supportive," I told him. "Are you guys going to hang out here?"

"Yeah," Angie said. "For a few minutes. I don't like seeing Mom cry."

I'm with her on that. I don't like seeing anyone cry, either. Poor Ranger has had to watch my steady leaking for hours now. Ranger opened the front door for me and followed me inside.

"Dad?" I called, when I didn't see anyone in the living room.

The TV was off, the dining room table was devoid of food, and I swear the house seemed colder without the usual steam coming from the kitchen. Two seconds in, and I was already turning back towards the door. Mary Alice was right. This is weird ... and I don't like it. Not one damn bit. I'd only managed two steps when Grandma Mazur came down the stairs.

"I told Frank you were going to come over," she said to me, "no matter what he told you or Ranger."

"Of course I was coming," I told her. "Where is he?"

"Out in the backyard. He don't know where to go. This is ... was ... where your mother spent most of her time. Frank can't take one step without bumping into her in here."

"How are you doing?" I asked Grandma.

"I don't think it's sunk in yet. I'm busy trying to keep Valerie and your father together. Ask me next week and I'll no doubt have a different answer. Ranger, thanks for bringing Stephanie over," Grandma said to him. "This house is probably the last place you want to be."

"Wherever Stephanie needs me is where I'm going," he told her. "And today that's here."

Grandma moved her dentures around in her mouth as she studied Ranger.

"I love my daughter ... loved my daughter, but she did drive me nuts. I always thought Helen was too hard on the people she loved. Out of all the mistakes she made, I think you're her biggest one."

"What do you mean?" I asked her.

"Ranger was there for you like she could never figure out how to be. And she couldn't get over the fact that she misjudged him and you. I'm sure you noticed that when your mother was wrong about something, she blamed what was handy instead of herself."

She paused before speaking again as her thoughts turned inward.

"I still remember right after I moved in here, Helen tried to make your father a really fancy dinner with one of those racks of lamb and different colored potatoes. When everything came out undercooked, she threw the cookbook out instead of trying it again and leaving everything in a little longer."

Grandma's eyes watered and I begged everything holy to make her stop. If Grandma Mazur started crying, I knew I'd never stop.

"I saw the girls outside. Where's Val?"

"She and Albert are trying to get Lisa to take a nap in your old bedroom. Poor kid's young, but she knows something's up."

I thought a nap sounded pretty fucking good, too. Great. I'm considering coping skills meant for children. Way to prove you're a grown up, Stephanie, I said to myself.

"I'm going to go see Dad for a minute, unless you need me to do something."

"Go on. I'm alright. I'm also old. Every day I face my own death or someone else's," she told us. "Just never thought it'd be my own daughter's."

Or my mother's, I silently added.

I wrapped my arm around Ranger's waist as we walked into the kitchen and out the back door. My dad was standing in the minuscule backyard, just staring at the dying grass that hadn't grown at all since he cut it last month.

"Dad," I said quietly, not wanting to startle him if he was in his own head and didn't hear us coming. "Are you okay?"

He turned and I felt a sharp stab of pain when I saw the lost look on his face.

"Oh, God," I whispered to Ranger.

"Steph," Ranger said, his lips brushing my ear, "why don't you go back inside and let me talk to your father for a minute."

I really wanted to say that I can help my dad through this, but I couldn't bear the sight of his damp eyelashes and unsure expression.

"I'll be waiting in the kitchen if you need me," I told both Ranger and my dad.

My dad managed to process that.

"I'm glad you're here, Stephanie."

"Are you?" I asked him. "I was a little worried considering what happened the last time Ranger and I came over."

"I didn't agree at all with what your mother said to you," my dad told me, lessening my anxiety substantially. "She's stubborn and didn't want to be the first one to break. I honestly thought I was getting through to her, making her see that while she is your mother, you're not obligated to listen to her anymore, but then this happened ..."

Although we aren't a touchy-feely family, I gave my dad an awkward hug. He surprised me by holding on tight, something he hasn't done since I was a little girl. His hands clenched and unclenched on my back and I gave my dad a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

"We'll get through this," I promised both of us, and then I left him in Ranger's capable hands.

Inside the house, Grandma and I fixed the girls a snack and made coffee for the adults. Valerie and Albert were sitting in the living room when Ranger and my dad came in. My dad looked marginally better, and I raised my eyebrows at Ranger. He gave me a slight shake of his head, which meant he'll tell me what he had said to my dad when we're alone in the car.

Ranger and I stayed until Lisa woke up. Valerie said she was going to stick around so my dad and Grandma wouldn't be alone and Albert took the girls home. I made it about a half hour after Albert and the girls left before I was once again looking around the house I grew up in, struggling not to get emotional again.

I promised everyone that I'd be back in the morning and Ranger ushered me out. I avoided looking at the driveway and kept my eyes glued to the Porsche sitting at the curb. After I buckled myself in, and before Ranger started the car, I asked him what he told my dad.

"I just pointed out that he has a family that needs him," Ranger said. "He can miss his wife, but he has children and grandchildren who are counting on him to be an example on how to deal with this."

"That's all it took?" I asked Ranger.

"For a man whose sole identity is as a 'provider' ... yes."

"Thank you," I said, reaching across the console to squeeze Ranger's thigh.

"Babe, these are people important to you, so they have to be important to me. Your dad has to feel needed in order to push past his grief, which will make it easier to deal with. Just like helping Valerie with the girls is going to help you."

Ranger isn't the best just because he calls himself that. He can analyze people without even seeming to do it and decide the best course of action for each individual person. We made it home and through the throng of Rangemen who had all heard the news by then. I appreciated all the concern and sympathy from the guys, but I was ready to go upstairs, go to sleep, and just pretend this day had never happened.

The week leading up to the funeral was a blur to me. I clung to Ranger when we were alone, and he wrapped his muscled arms around me in return. I held onto that feeling, and his endless support, through the day until I could get back to it at night. Ranger has always been my rock, but he had turned into a freakin' boulder through this. And I'm still thinking up ways I can thank him for it.

My mother was in control until the very end, but for once I was grateful for it. My dad was still just going through the motions, and Valerie wasn't faring much better, so it was up to me and Grandma Mazur to make all the arrangements. Having my mother's wishes already on paper meant that we just had to get them carried out. No thinking required, which continued to be something hard to do.

During the actual service, Grandma was holding up surprisingly well. Talking to the priest and the neighbors like this was just another Burg funeral she was attending, not one for her daughter. I was worried about the moment when this finally hit her. Grandma Mazur and my mom had a love/tolerate relationship, but she did lose her only child and that knowledge is bound to sneak up on her soon.

Ranger probably had no feeling left in his hand from the death grip I'd had on it by the time we'd made it to the cemetery. It was mid-October, the sky was a deep blue, the sun was shining, and the leaves on the trees were already changing ... looking too pretty and too bright for a funeral to be happening underneath them. The casket was top of the line, but it looked so wrong sitting there with my mother inside it. I kept thinking the lid would pop open - without Grandma's help - and my mother would sit up, press the wrinkles out of her dress with her hands, and give everyone here the look she's perfected over the years of getting phone calls informing her of my ER trips or car explosions.

"Honestly," she'd say. "Why are you all just standing around here staring at me? Now lunch will be late. Stephanie, you and Valerie will have to help out if we're going to feed all these people. Where are my keys? We have to get going."

I blinked the image away and focused on what was being said around us. I really shouldn't have. Mrs. Gatlen was holding court in her Burg circle, spreading hatred and rumors faster than they could be discounted.

"You have to agree that it is a fitting ending," Mrs. Gatlen, one of Trenton's nastier gossip-mongers said. "We all know how Helen enjoyed her whiskey. And now she's seen firsthand the result of too much 'tippling'."

I should have let it go, but I just couldn't. Too many people have died because of drunk drivers, and they and my mother didn't need to be victims all over again. Yeah, my mom did have a bottle of Jack Daniels hidden behind the olive oil in the kitchen pantry, but she never drank anything stronger than coffee outside her own home. And never when she might have to drive. I eased away from Ranger and confronted her.

"Mrs. Gatlen," I said to the bitter old lady that reminded me of Joe's Grandma Bella, who I bet is skulking around here somewhere. "I appreciate you wanting to pay your respects and all, but if you don't shut your piehole about my mother, I'm going to have Cal and Tank remove you."

I pointed towards the solid wall of Rangemen standing at attention nearby. At the first hint of trouble, they'd be on whoever is causing it's ass before I could finish summoning them.

"Stephanie," Mrs. Gatlen said, sweetly, "you know I would never speak ill of the dead."

I took a step in her direction, but Ranger had already motioned the guys forward. Mrs. Gatlen was strongly 'encouraged' to leave. Tank, Junior, and Cal surrounded her, assuming intimidating stances, and all their expressions were set on don't fuck with us. Anybody who had thoughts of talking about my family quickly shut up, which led to the closest thing to a happy feeling I could achieve at the moment.

By the end of the afternoon, I was leaning heavily into Ranger as one person after another came up to me with their Helen Plum stories. I heard all about Helen Plum the religious church-goer, the neighborhood organizer who kept a strip club from being opened in town, and the volunteer who was always the first to say yes to helping out at the hospital or lodge, but I didn't hear one word about Helen Plum the person. And I suddenly realized that I can't say anything about that woman, either, because I didn't know her.

I can't say what my mother's favorite book or song is. I don't have a clue how she liked to spend her time when she wasn't taking care of the girls or my dad. And I had no idea why she'd never tried to become the nurse she said she wanted to be. Was she scared that she'd fail? Or was she against completely changing her life after years of having a set routine? I'll never know why she was so hard on me, and if she loved me as a person, or just as her daughter. And now there's no way of seeing what our relationship could have been like if we would have worked together to change it.

It was easier to just avoid my mom and her comments, than to try to reason with her, but maybe I should've stuck it out a little longer or tried a little harder. If I can get homicidal maniacs to spill their guts, I might've broken through the Helen Plum facade to the woman who might have been struggling inside it. Or she could have just as easily told me that I was overreacting and ignored my attempts yet again. Now I'll never know.

"It's strange," I whispered to Ranger, when the last of the Burg ladies walked away, "because I miss my mother, but I'm missing someone I never knew."

"Cupcake," Joe said, coming up to us. "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks, Joe. So am I."

I could tell that Joe was purposely avoiding Ranger's presence and the place on my body where Ranger's hand was resting. Joe and I had moved on from each other, but obviously Ranger being the man I'm with still irritated the shit out of Joe. He'd been dead wrong about Ranger's interest in me, and it killed him to admit it. Not that he actually has, but I appreciated that Morelli wouldn't cause a scene about it today.

"You and your mother had a few problems," Joe was saying, "but she does ... did ... love you."

I tried smiling and failed miserably. "Thanks, Joe. I'd like to think she really did."

He took my hand, his fingers tightening and holding for a full thirty seconds longer than they should have until Ranger made a move to remove Joe's grip ... then probably his hand. Joe dropped my hand on his own and faded back into the crowd. With all my Merry Men here, it was easy for him to disappear. My mother's opinion of them didn't figure into the guys' decision to come today. They, like Ranger, are here for me. Their stoic faces were helpful with keeping my emotions in check. If I didn't think too hard, or too long, about what might have been, I would be able to get through the day.

Hal, Bobby, and Lester had taken up positions beside and behind us to make sure I wasn't bothered unless I wanted to be. And I was secretly glad that Burg residents were a little scared of them so I wouldn't have to make small talk with the couple people happy that they got to be part of the end of Helen Plum's life.

We left the cemetery after the last of the neighbors took off, and Ranger drove us to my parents' house. I knew we wouldn't stay long, but I wanted to be there for the girls. They looked as dazed as I was feeling. Things will change drastically for them. My dad still works part time driving the cab and Grandma isn't going to be able to keep up with these three every day.

"Ranger?"

"Yeah, Babe?" He asked, his eyes flicking to me even though they should, by right and by law, stay on the road.

"You really don't mind Valerie dropping the girls off at Rangeman?"

I know next to nothing about taking care of kids, but I'm sure I can learn. It would help everyone in my family if I could watch them when Val needed a babysitter. Grandma doesn't act like a woman in her seventies, but she really can't take care of three kids simultaneously. Grandma Mazur likes being in trouble more than she avoids it.

"They're welcome anytime, Steph. You know that."

"I do. It just never occurred to me to offer to watch them until it popped out of my mouth the other day. My mom always did the kid-watching, but now that's not an option ..."

Ranger broke in before I went down that road again.

"My building is full of physically and psychologically cleared men who have been through hell multiple times and still laugh about it," Ranger said. "I'm sure they'll be happy to help you and the girls any way they can."

"You mean that you'll order them to," I told him, appreciating another one of Ranger's distraction techniques.

Ranger's got a playful side, you just have to look for it.

"Yes."

Ranger and I ended up staying late to help Grandma and Valerie clean up. When we got back to our apartment hours after we left it, Ranger pulled me into the bedroom and then onto the bed with him and held me as I cried myself to sleep.

The morning after my mother's funeral, I got up earlier than usual and left the Rangeman building. I drove back to the cemetery, not mentioning that I was leaving, or where I was going, to anyone. Ten minutes later, I eased Ranger's Cayenne through the wrought iron gates, barely noticing them, the stone walls, or the flowers throughout the cemetery left by people who may be going through the same thing I am, except I hadn't even thought to bring flowers. I was on a mission this morning.

The sun has only been up for a half hour, and there was still frost coating the grass. My Cat boots made a soft, crunching sound as I walked to where my mother had been placed less than twenty-four hours ago. There were clouds in the sky this morning, but it looked like a single beam of sunlight had broken through them to light the way to my mother's grave site. I still couldn't wrap my head around it. Helen Plum, Burg staple, and my mother, lived here now.

No more homemade cookies in her kitchen unless Grandma Mazur made some. No more calls requesting my presence at dinner. No more asking me if I'm okay before launching into a ten minute lecture about how I need to change my life before I end up dead. And my mother's the one who was killed driving to the fucking deli to buy pastrami for my dad's lunch.

My eyes teared up when I thought about how unfair this is. Ever since I started working for Vinnie I've pretty much told death, and whoever was stalking me, to man up and come get me. And I've always walked away the victor. Sometimes I limped away or was carried out by Ranger, but I was still breathing afterwards. I've butted into a lot of stuff I shouldn't have walked away from, and yet my mom was killed running a ten minute errand.

I think what I'm currently feeling is a weird case of survivor's guilt because I really should be the one dead, with all the shit I've been mixed up in. I know I'll have to find a way to get over the guilt. I wouldn't be with Ranger right now if I hadn't survived everything I've been through. And I would never regret the life I have with him.

I kneeled down so I was eye-to-eye with the cold, gray stone in front of me, and sighed. I traced the words loving wife and mother with my index finger. Seeing my dad's heartbroken face proved the wife part to be true, but loving mother? I guess. My mom did take care of us. She gave up a lot to stay home and raise us. And she made sure we were well fed and always looking presentable, but I'm starting to see just how much more goes into being a parent besides food, clothing, and providing a nice home.

Affection, support, and belief in us would have made a world of difference in both mine and Valerie's lives. I can't blame all my problems on my mother ... and I would never try. I've screwed up a shitload of times, but knowing that I had someone who would look beyond that and love me anyway might have made me try harder not to fuck up the next time.

I might have been reckless - and more than a little stupid - in the past when it came to my actions, job, and personal life, because I was expected to be. My role had been cast early on and I did my best to live up to all the hype, with my mother 'why me-ing?' every time I did. Unconditional love should be what children get from their parents, but I only became familiar with the concept after meeting Ranger.

"I wish things could've been different, Mom," I said to the cross etched into the granite, my breath visible in the chilly morning air. "I tried. I really did, but nothing I ever said seemed to reach you. I watched the friendship grow between Mary Lou and her mother as they both got older, and I didn't get why we couldn't have the same thing. You were always critical of me, never seemed satisfied even if I did do something you approved of, like marrying Dickie. It was almost as if you needed me to fail just so you could prove to everyone that you were right about me all along."

I took a deep breath. This is harder than I thought. I could almost feel my mother's eyes on me, her disapproval clear because I was making a fuss over nothing.

"But it isn't nothing, Mom," I said out loud. "Your opinion was an important one to me. And you used that to get your own way, never thinking that you were hurting me in the process. You knew I was upset and feeling like shit the day Ranger and I left your house, and you couldn't even pick up the phone. For three freakin' days you didn't say a single word to me. Well, I'm not going to be blamed for that, too."

"I know I've made plenty of mistakes, have put you and dad through a lot of scares, but I shouldn't force myself to suffer even more because you never wanted to talk to me about anything beyond Burg scandals or your dinner menu. I would've been back at the house in a heartbeat if you would have only met me in the middle."

I blinked back tears and blocked out the sound of their front door closing behind Ranger and I that day.

"While I am sorry that we didn't have the relationship we should have had, Mom, I'm not going to spend the rest of my life hating myself or you for it. I have too many things to look forward to. I can't erase the past. And though I'd like to, more than anything, I can't turn the clock back so you'd still be here and I could be saying this to your face instead of your name and dates. I really hope you finally have the peace you've always wanted where you are now." I stood and rested my hand on the freezing cold stone, remembering a few of my favorite times we had together. "Bye, Mom," I whispered, wiping my eyes as I turned to leave.

I felt Ranger before I saw him stop a few feet away from where I was.

"Are you okay, Babe?" He asked, pulling me to him.

I pressed my face into his open jacket and inhaled, trying to draw as much of this man into me as possible.

"Yeah. I was just saying goodbye," I told Ranger. "I thought I had yesterday, but there were a few things I needed to say to her even if she's not here to listen."

Ranger circled the back of my neck with his fingers, gently kneading away the tension he found there while pressing me further into him. Ranger held me like that for a few minutes without speaking, letting the heat of his big body warm my cold one.

"You had me worried for a minute," Ranger said finally, drawing back.

"Why? You have the Cayenne monitored," I told him.

"Yes, but you normally tell me where you're headed."

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to worry you. I just wanted to do this while I could so I can move on."

"And have you moved on?" Ranger asked.

"I think so. My mother may not have been perfect," I said to Ranger, "but she did do one thing I'll never be able to repay her for."

"And what's that, Babe?"

"With how she lived her life, and sometimes treated the people in it, she gave me step-by-step directions on how not to become like her."

"There was never a chance of that, Steph," Ranger said, taking my hand and leading me back to my car.

"There wasn't, was there?" I asked him.

"No, Steph. And that's something you always have to remember, right along with the good memories you have of your mother. You were never the woman Helen described. And it's time you let go of those kind of thoughts relating to her and to you."

My shaky lips formed a small smile. "I'm free to fly, aren't I?"

"You always were, Babe," Ranger told me, softly. "It's just now you're ready to see how high and how far you can."