Season 9 - Episode 6
FAITH, HOPE, AND CLARITY
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
PROLOGUE
Cue Music:
I'm not aware of too many things
I know what I know, if you know what I mean
Philosophy is the talk on a cereal box
Religion is the smile on a dog
I'm not aware of too many things
I know what I know, if you know what I mean, d-doo yeah
Choke me in the shallow waters
Before I get too deep
Camera focuses tight on
a grey stucco wall, spotlit against the blue-black
night. As the music plays, we see a
black leather-clad arm wave through the shot, spraying paint on the wall: first
bright blue, then red, then black, then white for highlights. The subject of the painting is not clear, but
a style begins to emerge. The artist
stops for a moment; we see a shot, down low, as he steps back to observe; the
camera moves up and focuses on the paint can in his hand—he shakes it and it
rattles emptily.
The
music continues as we
CUT TO:
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
Same shot – Day
The
painting is finished, but the camera is focused too closely to see the whole
image. Camera pans down and over a
variety of small offerings: some candles, a few bunches
of flowers, here and there a photograph.
As the music plays, we see a procession of feet: first, the halting step
and orthopedic shoes of an elderly man, who halts at the wall for a moment, and
then lays down a cane; then the white-flowered sandals of a little girl, who
leaves a crayon drawing of a house with four people outside; and finally, the silver-and-rubber
tires of a wheelchair, which roll up to the wall and stop there.
What I am is what I am
Are you what you are or what?
What I am is what I am
Are you what you are or…
Don’t let me get too
deep
Don’t let me get too
deep
Don’t let me get
too….deep
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
ACT I - Scene 1
Blue Moon Investigations - David’s
Office
Monday - 10:00am
Bert scrambles in,
carrying a thick z-fold computer printout, which is threatening to dive
slinky-style onto the floor.
Bert: Mr. Addison, I have that
phone log you needed on the Zafferoni case.
The camera pans the
room. A chart, labeled “DiPesto/Viola Baby Pool,” rests on a metal easel;
originally a neat table of employee names and their guesses as to gender,
weight, height, etc., it now features multiple cross-outs and small
notations. David sits behind his desk, a
green eyeshade tossed to one side, his hair rumpled in the extreme.
David: (muttering) So now the length is
worth ten points, the weight, fifteen points, and the date—
Bert reaches the desk,
printout intact.
Bert: Mr. Addison? The report?
He drops it on the
desk—THUD! David jumps, finally looking
up.
David: Bert, you sure threw a monkey wrench into this whole thing
with your little slip-up in the preview…make that slip-ups. All day, Jergenson
and O’Neill have been winking and nudging each other whenever I walk by. Did you really have to give the junior high
set any more to giggle about?
Bert: (slides into a chair) Yeah…about that. I’m really sorry, Mr. Addison—honestly, I
just assumed that you and Ms. Hayes had told everyone.
David: Well, it’s certainly true what they say about assuming…
Bert: What do they say?
David: Never mind. (dismissive) Thanks
for the paperweight.
Bert stays put, and we
see now that his expression is fairly morose for a man about to experience the
joys of fatherhood.
Bert: Mr. Addison, can I talk to you about something? From one impending
patriarch to another?
David: Don’t tell me—the Almighty been sending you stone
postcards again?
Bert: Ha! Funny, sir… (brief courtesy
smile) No…it’s just, now that the secret’s out—I mean, do you—are you hoping—
David: Spit it out, Bert!
This dialogue’s got more hairpin turns than Mulholland.
Bert: (blurts) I really wanted a boy!
He slumps back in the
chair, exhausted by this admission.
David: Guess you better screen your swimmers next time.
Bert: (head in hands) I know it’s a terrible thing to say…(looks up)…you won’t tell Ms. Hayes, will you?
David: Rat out a fellow greybeard?
Nah.
Bert: I’m the last of a noble line, Mr. Addison…well, there’s my
cousin Guido, but he can’t get a girl to stick around for more than ten
minutes. I hate to think of the name
dying out.
David: C’mon, Bert, this is the ‘90s! No reason your little miss can’t be a little Ms….
Bert: It’s not just the last name I’m talking about. I was planning on naming her after my
father…who was named after his
grandfather…(proudly)…Americo
Baldassare Viola.
David tries to hide a
smirk; clearly, he thinks the newest Viola has dodged a bullet of the first
magnitude.
David: I’m sure you’ll think of something…(under
his breath)…and at least she’ll still have your mustache.
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
Scene 2
Maddie’s Office
Monday - 12:55pm
Maddie sits at her desk,
sorting through the mail; she is singing under her breath:
Baby, baby
I'm taken with the
notion
To love you with the sweetest of devotion
Baby, baby
My tender love will flow from
The bluest sky to the deepest ocean
The speakerphone buzzes.
Agnes: (OS) Ms. Hayes? Dr. Weed on line one.
Maddie: (picks up phone, smiling) Janet! We’re looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.
She pauses as Dr. Weed
speaks; her smile slowly fades.
Maddie: Oh?
Another beat…
Maddie: (an edge to her voice) What does
that mean?
A long beat…
Maddie: No, no, I understand—you don’t want me to worry. Was that all? (pause)
Yes, he’ll be there. (pause) Right—see you at eleven.
Bye….
Slowly, she puts the
phone back in the cradle and leans back in her chair.
Maddie: If she didn’t want me to
worry…then why did she call?
The neat stack of mail
slides to the floor unheeded. Whatever
Dr. Weed told her has thrown her for a loop…we can see
that she doesn’t want to think about it…but is
thinking about it…and it’s frightening.
There is a sharp knock
on the door, and Agnes sticks her head in.
Maddie snaps to attention, endeavoring to smooth away the traces of her
anxiety.
Agnes: Ms. Hayes, your one o’clock is here. Señor Herrera.
She opens the door wide
and an older man steps through. Dressed
in sharply-pressed black pants and a short black jacket over a snowy white
shirt, there is something of the matador about him. He is not tall, but has a presence
nonetheless, perhaps because of his piercing black eyes.
Maddie pushes back her
hair, rises, and does her best woman-in-charge impression. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees David
in the doorway, mouthing “Olé!” and throwing an
imaginary sombrero into the air.
Maddie: Hello, I’m Madolyn Hayes.
The Señor
bows over Maddie’s hand, a courtly gesture that
somehow fits with his trim and tidy appearance.
He straightens and turns, just in time to see David erase his expression
and hold out his own hand.
David: And I’m her partner, David Addison.
The Señor,
unimpressed by David's riotous hair and rolled-up sleeves, gives him a brief
nod.
Maddie: Won’t you please sit
down?
Señor Herrera sits in a
chair, while Maddie and David take their usual stations at the corner of the
desk.
Maddie: How can we help you, Señor?
Herrera: I need you to prove there’s no miracle.
David: Well, you’ve come to the right place! Blue Moon…where miracles
never happen.
Maddie: David!
David: What kind of a
non-miracle do you need, Señor?
Herrera: I own a restaurant—Café Herrera. It’s been in my family for fifty years; we
have always been proud of our place. The
neighborhood is not fancy, but it’s full of solid working people. There is a wall that runs around our parking
lot. Last week, some vandalos
tagged it—(he sees Maddie’s puzzled expression)—they
sprayed graffiti on it. Here, I have a
photograph.
He hands it to David,
who takes it over to Maddie. Over
David’s shoulder, we see a snapshot of a stucco wall, about eight feet
high. The center of the wall is covered
with loops and scrawls of color…some of which might be words, but they’re hard
to make out. In the middle, however, is
an image, that looks a little like—
David: Jesus Christ!
Maddie: David!
David: No—Maddie—see here? (points)
Isn’t this—
Herrera: The Madonna and Child?
Yes, people are saying so.
Maddie looks closely at
the photo again and shakes her head; she doesn’t see it.
Herrera: (getting incensed)
These…these punks are marking up my neighborhood—making it look
low-class, like the barrio, you know?
Maddie: I appreciate your frustration, Mr. Herrera, but isn’t this
a matter for the police?
Herrera: The pólice…bah!...they
just say to paint over it—nothing they can do.
David: Have you tried painting over it?
Herrera: (laughs bitterly) That’s exactly
the problema,
Señor Addison.
I paint over it—the next day, it’s back!
Twice, I’ve done this! And now,
people are saying…it’s a milagro…a
miracle! They come and touch the wall,
hoping to be healed. They leave flowers
and candles…they clog up the parking lot, leave no room for my customers…ridiculo! Miracle—ha—it’s just some lowlife coming in
the night to play a joke on an old man!
Maddie: (tiredly) I’m sorry…I still don’t see how we can help you.
Herrera: I want you to find the bárbaros who did this...and prove
it's no "miracle"…so I can get my business
back to normal!
David: Would you excuse us, please?
The camera follows
Maddie and David as they walk out of her office and shut the door.
David leans in and gives
her a soft kiss.
Maddie: What was that for?
David: All these years…all the times we came out here to talk
about the case…I always wanted to do that.
Maddie smiles
halfheartedly.
David: So…take the case, or don’t take the case?
Maddie: Take the case?
David: Or don’t…those seem to be the two options.
Maddie: We can take the case…if you want.
David: Hey—where’s the vim?
The vigor?
The righteous indignation?
Maddie: I seem to have lost my
vim.
David: (waggles eyebrows) Bet I can find
it…as soon as we get rid of the Señor. On that note—
He turns the doorknob
and ushers her back into the office.
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
Scene 3
Maddie’s Office
Monday - 1:35pm
Maddie is standing at
the window when David enters, flapping two envelopes.
David: One client, sent off with a promise of top-notch
surveillance…starting tonight.
He pauses; Maddie
doesn’t turn around.
David: (indicating envelopes) Two past-due
checks with a nice number of zeroes between them…
Still no reaction from Maddie.
David: Three female employees, all a-twitter about a girlfest for Agnes.
Apparently they’ve already booked the “Doctor, Doctor” stripper.
Maddie: (without turning around) That’s nice.
David gives look of
shock to camera.
David: That’s nice? (He
spins her around) Are you fevered?
(Feels her forehead) Dizzy? Overcome by the display of masculinity that
was the Señor?
Maddie pushes David’s
hands away, gently, and goes to sit behind her desk.
Maddie: It’s nothing, David.
David: Well, it sounds like something…(he tilts his head)…Haven’t we played this scene
before? “Save the farm,” remember?
Maddie looks at him…yes,
she remembers…feeling “blue,” the advent of Sam, and all that happened
afterward…she doesn’t think about it much, anymore. She and David have been so solid, for so
long, that she hasn’t needed to think
about it.
David: (gently) What is going on,
Blondie?
Maddie: (with deep breath) Dr. Weed called. One of the tests we took…the results came
back…she said they were “outside the range of normal.”
David reels back a
little…but doesn’t look particularly surprised.
He turns and walks across the office, fists jammed in his pockets.
David: (under his breath) Annnd…there
it is…the other shoe.
He collects himself and
crosses back to Maddie, running his hands up her arms.
David: OK…so what does this mean?
Maddie: (snaps) I don’t know!
(softens) I’m sorry…she said we’ll talk about
it at our appointment tomorrow...but I don't--
David: (pulls her to him) Shh...it's probably nothing.
She probably just wanted to bill the insurance for an extra phone call. (A
beat; he smoothes her hair back and kisses her forehead) C’mon, little mama…if I’m going to have to
hang with Viola all night, I’ll need a good meal.
He takes her elbow, they walk out of the office as we
CUT TO COMMERICAL
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
ACT II - Scene 1
In Bert’s Car
Tuesday - 3:07 am
David and Bert are
parked in the Civic, across the street from Café Herrera. They have a clear view of the wall in
question, once again painted a bland primer grey by Señor
Herrera. The street, mostly residential,
is apparently down for the night.
David is wishing he
could say the same about Bert…
Bert: …technically, graffiti goes all the way back to prehistoric
times, with the cave paintings at Lascaux—
David: Bert—
Bert: (oblivious)…there are still some examples from ancient
Greece and Rome…of course, those are carved, not written in spray paint…(he chuckles at his own joke)
David: Herbert!
Bert: (stops mid-chuckle) Sorry, Sir?
David: You better get some shut-eye—it’ll be your turn to watch
later.
Bert: Oh, no, Mr. Addison!
I’m fine—just FINE! See? (holds up Thermos) This is my third cup!
David: I would never have guessed.
David rubs his
eyes. It’s been a long day, and an even
longer night.
Bert: You know, Mr. Addison, I wanted to thank you.
No response from David,
who is now leaning back and closing his eyes—which doesn’t deter Bert in the
slightest.
Bert: Your wise counsel earlier today helped me see that, though
the fruit of my loins (David grimaces) may be female, I
need not despair over the demise of the great Viola name and all it stands for.
David slumps down in the
passenger seat, while Bert warms to his theme.
Bert: Actually, a daughter has some distinct advantages. Girls develop language skills more quickly
than boys…
The rest of Bert’s paean
to femininity is lost on David, who is thinking about Maddie and the test
results. The camera pans away from Bert,
still gesturing volubly, to focus close-in on David’s face, leaning against the
car window.
David: (VO) What the hell does “outside
the range of normal” mean? Normal for what? I
mean, it’s not like you could expect a kid of ours to be normal, anyway,
right? More
like…extraordinary. God…she told us there was nothing genetic
involved…but, come on, what are the chances?
Three strikes and I’m out... (A beat)… All I know is, I
don’t want to know. I just want him—or her—to be fine…and for
Maddie to be fine…and for us to be a fine damn family! Is that really so much to ask?
He bangs a fist against
the dash, finally startling Bert into silence.
The car feels claustrophobic.
David: Well, looks like
you’ve got this under control…I’m hungry—you hungry?
Bert: I—uh…
David: I thought I saw a 24-hour doughnut place two blocks up…go
great with your coffee…
He is out of the car,
and practically running up the street, before Bert can respond.
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
An hour or so later…
David walks back down
the street, the waxed-paper bag in his hand bulging with the weight of a
half-dozen crullers. The first faint
pink streaks of dawn are just showing around the edges of the buildings, but
the street is still and silent.
As he closes in on the
parking lot, something catches his eye.
He runs forward, the bag bouncing against his side…and there is the
image, in all its Technicolor glory, once again painted on the wall.
He does a circuit of the
parking lot and café building, but sees no one.
Dashing across to the car, he rattles the handle.
David: Bert! What’s going
on? What did you—
The door finally opens,
to reveal one Herbert Viola, slightly reclined…and soundly asleep.
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
Scene 2
Dr. Weed’s Office - Ultrasound Room
Tuesday - 11:05am
Maddie lays
on an examining table, David standing beside her, wearing a t-shirt and jeans
that look like they’ve seen better days…as well as a full complement of
stubble. A bored-looking lab technician
pushes a wand over Maddie’s abdomen.
David: Is that him?
Maddie: Or her?
David: Right—or her?
Lab Technician: Actually, that’s your
spleen. The baby is…right…over…here.
David and Maddie watch in awe as a
rounded shape appears on the fuzzy black-and-white screen.
David: Look at that perfect
head! (to
Maddie) Bet he gets that from me—round as a canteloupe,
my mom used to say.
Lab Technician: That’s not the head—it’s
the other end.
David: Oh…(to
Maddie)…well, he obviously gets that
from you.
Maddie gives him a look that says
“very funny” as the technician moves the wand, pointing out the baby’s
legs. She stops, making a few clicks on
her keyboard.
David: What’s that for?
Technician: (monotone) I have to take measurements…the baby’s
tibia, spine, head…
David: Be sure to let us know
how we score!
The technician sighs…clearly, the
miracle of new life has long since lost its luster for her…
Technician: I just take down the
numbers—I’m not allowed to explain the results.
(moving wand) What about the sex?
David: Kind of a personal
question, don’t you think?
The technician looks over her small,
wire-rimmed glasses. She is totally
uninterested in David’s verbal hijinks.
Technician: Did. You.
Want. To. Know. The. Gender?
Maddie: Oh…we haven’t even
talked about that…
They lock eyes, each trying to suss out how the other feels on this issue…and coming up
dry. Dr. Weed’s call has driven any
thought of the “fun” part of the ultrasound right out of their heads.
David: Well—what do you think,
Blondie? Should we flip on it, or do you
want to do rock, paper, scissors?
Maddie: David! It’s a big decision—we can’t just pick
willy-nilly—
David: On the spot? Spontaneously?
Maddie shakes her head, and David
grins.
David: OK, you win,
Goldilocks. Deciding not to decide…it’s
worked for us before…
Technician: So that’s a no?
David: It’s a no…for now.
The tour continues…over the tiny
rounded belly…the curve of the back…and then the heartbeat, pumping sure and
strong. The technician
clicks and clacks, zooming in and out; David takes Maddie’s
hand. Finally, we see a profile:
a head, two eyelids, even the little lips…
David: What’s that white thing,
next to his face?
The technician focuses in more
closely…and we can see fingers, curled into a fist. Baby Hayes Addison is sucking his (or her)
thumb.
Maddie: (teary) Oh, David—look…
David: I know. (He leans in and kisses her, stroking her
cheek softly) Gorgeous…just like you.
There’s a small sniff from the other
side of the table…and the technician dabs at one eye. She hands David a stack of black-and-white
photographs, then looks behind her, as though they’re in a spy movie.
Technician: (whispering) You’ve got a beautiful baby there.
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
Scene 3
Dr. Weed’s Inner Office
Tuesday - 11:45am
Maddie and David sit in
chairs across from Dr. Weed’s desk; Maddie holds the ultrasound photos.
David: Well, I think he
looks just like your father…already has that air of authority about him.
Maddie appreciates
David’s attempt at humor, but can’t seem to bring herself to engage in the
banter.
Dr. Weed enters.
Dr. Weed: The photos came out great, didn’t they? He…or she…was very cooperative today. (Sits behind desk) First of all, Maddie, I want to assure you
that everything looks good—your blood pressure, protein test, weight gain
(David doesn’t even touch this one)…they’re all fine. And as you could see…the baby looked great on
the ultrasound.
David: Doc…what can you tell us about
this ATP?
Dr. Weed: AFP. It tests for
the level of alphafetoprotein in the blood. An increased or decreased level can indicate
a neural tube defect or a chromosomal issue.
The doctor glances at
Maddie and David’s hands, clasped tightly together on the arm of Maddie’s chair.
Dr. Weed: However. The AFP test is a screening test—it can’t
diagnose a problem; it can only indicate there might be a problem. It also
has a fairly significant rate of false-positive results.
Maddie: So what is your recommendation, Janet?
Dr. Weed: Your AFP level was lower than normal for your age and the
baby’s gestational age.
David: Which means?
Dr. Weed: The test is indicating that there is a higher-than-average
chance that your baby could have a chromosome defect. Maddie’s age,
unfortunately, compounds that chance…so I’d recommend an amniocentesis, which
will give us a map of the baby’s genetic material.
David: What about the false positives of that test?
Dr. Weed: Since we can actually see the chromosomes, it’s one hundred
percent accurate…(she smiles slightly)…or as close to
one hundred percent as science is willing to admit.
Maddie: (takes a deep breath) So that’s our next step?
Dr. Weed: Well…I have to tell you that the amnio
carries some risk in and of itself.
David: Risk of what?
Dr. Weed: In a very small
percentage of cases, the amnio can cause infection in
the mother…and miscarriage.
Maddie blanches, the color (of copier paper?). David looks at her and the sense of injustice
he’s been trying to quell boils up inside him.
David: (leaning forward in chair) So let
me get this straight. We should take a
test that might hurt Maddie—or our baby—based on the results of a test that could be wrong? That doesn’t make any sense to me!
Maddie: David—just—
Dr. Weed: It’s OK, Maddie.
It’s very important that you have a chance to ask these questions. David, the odds that the baby has a problem
are, at this point, higher than the chance of miscarriage from the amnio—that’s why I’m recommending it. But it’s just that—a recommendation, not a
prescription. You and Maddie have to
decide what you think is best.
Maddie: How much time do we have?
Dr. Weed: We should probably do the test in the next week, if we’re
going to do it at all. Here’s some
information about the test, and how the results are interpreted.
She passes over several
pamphlets. Maddie nods, tears glistening
on her cheek, and we
CUT TO:
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
Dr. Weed’s Office Building
Parking Garage
Tuesday - 12:00pm
Maddie and David walk
toward the Lexus. She looks dazed. David is still steaming; he walks a little
too quickly, leaving Maddie a step or so behind.
David: (muttering) We are not having that test.
Maddie: What did you say?
David stops, making a
visible effort to calm himself down. He
takes Maddie’s hand and kisses it.
David: I said…I don’t think we need to do that test. (He puts his palm on her stomach) Little Bunny here is doing great.
Maddie: So that’s it? No
discussion?
David: No, we can discuss…we can even confer, deliberate, hash
over…but I’m not gonna change my mind. Maddie, the baby’s fine. I know
he’s fine. Look at this picture (pulls
out one of the ultrasound photos)…look at this nose…this little round
head…see—he’s even waving!
Maddie touches the
picture, lightly tracing the image, then shakes her
head.
Maddie: Dr. Weed said you can’t tell from the ultrasound.
David: I don’t need a test.
I’m the father, and I know
this is going to be the most perfect baby of all time…of any time…the best little bundle of joy that Cedars-Sinai has ever
seen.
Maddie: (gently) I’m glad you feel that way, David. But this is an important decision…we need to—
David: Make lists? Weigh
the pros and cons?
Maddie gets ready to be
offended…then looks at him closely.
There is no sign of sarcasm in his voice, only sadness.
Maddie: Yes, actually….But we don’t have to do it right now.
They stand there for a
beat…then Maddie puts her arms around him. We freeze on them, holding each
other, Maddie’s head tucked into David’s shoulder.
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
Scene 4
Blue Moon Investigations - Maddie’s Office
Tuesday - 2:00pm
David walks in, looking
even more exhausted than he did in Dr. Weed’s office. Flopping on the couch, he rubs the side of
his head.
David: Just got my fill of Señor
Herrera’s ear-splitting enchilada...the extra-spicy version.
Maddie: Guess he’s not too happy that we couldn’t debunk the Parking
Lot Miracle.
David: You’re not kidding.
(sitting up) I told him we would try again
tonight...but so help me, if I have to sit in the car with Buzzing Bert for
five hours, I’ll lose my mind.
Maddie: I could go with you.
David: No way--there’s only one all-night activity for you on the
Addison Approved List...and it sure ain’t a stakeout.
Maddie: You want to take Magillicuddy?
David shudders and makes
his “Three Stooges” noise.
David: No thanks. I’ll be
fine without any help from the peanut gallery.
(rubs his hand over his face) I’m gonna go home and catch some z’s...I’ll
be fresh as a daisy by 7:00.
Maddie: I always did wonder about that cliché..daisies
smell terrible.
David: I’ll be sure to shower. (Gives her a long look) You OK?
Maddie: I’m fine...(firmly)...perfectly
fine.
David: No, you’re not...but I’m too tired to argue with you.
Smiling ruefully, he
gets up to go; at the door, he turns back and blows her a kiss.
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
Scene 5
Blue Moon Investigations - Front
Office
Tuesday - 5:36pm
Maddie walks through the
front office, which is blissfully empty.
She is nearly at the door when she hears a voice behind her.
Agnes: Ms. Hayes?
Agnes is coming out of
David’s office, feather duster and squirt bottle in hand.
Maddie: (turning around) Agnes, what are you doing still here? Everyone else has gone.
Agnes: Not everyone.
Agnes looks at her
pointedly; Maddie smiles in acknowledgment .
Maddie: Shouldn’t you be off your feet?
Agnes: (looks down) I haven’t seen my feet in two months! No, I can’t seem to sit still these
days...been doing a little extra cleaning.
I must be in my nesting stage.
Maddie: Nesting, huh? David’s not going to look forward to me going
through that--he already feels like
he has to nail stuff down so I don’t get rid of it. (sighs) Well, I guess I’d better be off.
Agnes: Ms. Hayes...are you OK? (Sympathetic)
Still feeling sick?
“Sick” is a pretty apt
description of how Maddie feels right now...sick with worry.
Maddie: No...I’m actually feeling a lot better. Just have…things…on my mind.
She pastes on a smile,
but Agnes is not fooled.
Agnes: Our thoughts create our world, you know.
Maddie: What?
Agnes: Herbert and I have been taking a Zen birthing class--we do
breathing, massage, meditation--so I can have the most natural, pain-free labor
possible. Anyway, it’s something our
instructor has been saying...if all I can think about is how much it hurts,
then the pain is all I’ll be able to experience. But if I focus on this beautiful journey of
bringing our baby into the world, then the pain will get pushed to the side and
we can concentrate on the process.
Maddie: (skeptical) Let me know how that works for you.
Agnes: Oh, I already know it works.
Maddie: Really?
Agnes: I tried it when I realized how disappointed Bert was that
we’re not having a boy.
Maddie: Oh, Agnes...I’m sure Bert just wants a healthy baby—
Agnes: I don’t think so, Ms. Hayes. He really had his heart set on a boy. He put on a good front at the ultrasound, but
I could tell...anyway, as long as I
was focused on his disappointment, I felt disappointed too. But, once I started thinking about how lucky
we are...and picturing myself holding my little one...I got all excited again.
Maddie: But what about Bert?
Agnes: Oh, he came around...I knew he would, eventually. I think talking to Mr. Addison really helped
him--maybe you should try that.
Maddie: Maybe so, Agnes...maybe so.
COMMERCIAL BREAK
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
ACT III - Scene 1
The Hayes-Addison Home
Tuesday - 7:27pm
Juggling a load of
library books, Maddie opens the front door just in time to get jumped on by
Miss Me, who is apparently frantic to get outside. David, showered, shaved, and without any
visible holes in his clothing, appears from the kitchen, leash in hand.
Maddie: Well, you certainly look brighter-eyed and bushier-tailed
than when I last saw you.
David: (does a little shake) Went to the groomer--had my tail
fluffed ‘specially. We were just on our
way out for a walk...want to come?
Maddie: Sure...just let me change first.
A few minutes later,
Maddie meets them on the front steps, and the three of them head up the
street. David inhales deeply.
Maddie: What are you doing?
David: Enjoying the fresh air!
(Looks accusingly at camera) We’ve hardly been outside this season...on
our own recognizance, anyway.
They are quiet for a
minute as Miss Me sniffs around various neighborhood bushes.
Maddie: (takes a deep breath) I think we should have the amnio, David.
David: I don’t think the risk is worth it.
A pause…Maddie is
wondering how to put this…
Maddie: Do you
remember...once, you asked me if I ever got scared? (He thinks a minute, then nods) Well, I’m
scared now. And I’m not like you—I can’t
put my faith in something I can’t hear—or touch—or explain. I need the numbers, David...and the numbers
are in favor of the test.
David: But Maddie—if there’s a chance, even a small chance, that
it could hurt you or the baby...I can’t go through that again. We
can’t go through that again. Besides,
it’s not going to change anything, whether something’s wrong or not.
Maddie: But can you live with the possibility for the next five
months? Wouldn’t you rather know for
sure, one way or the other?
David: I told you...I do
know--right here. (He pats his heart) I
don’t need charts or printouts or statistics.
I just...believe.
Maddie: (shakes her head) I wish that was enough for me.
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
Scene 2
The Hayes-Addison Bedroom
Wednesday - 2:16am
Cue Music:
When I’m worried, and I
can’t sleep
I count my blessings
instead of sheep
And I fall asleep
counting my blessings
Close-in shot of the
clock on the nightstand…then the camera pans over the bed, which looks like
it’s been through a serious weather system of some kind: the duvet is balled up
to one side, the sheets are scrunched, there are pillows everywhere. No more than a typical
night with David Addison, except for one thing: David isn’t there.
Maddie lies on her back,
one arm over her head, eyes wide open. The
pamphlets Dr. Weed gave her litter the mattress. After a beat, she gets up, flips on the
bedside lamp, and picks up a heavy-looking book: Diagnoses in Pregnancy. She
reads for a moment...clearly, she doesn’t like what she sees. She checks the clock again, and dumps the
book on the floor in favor of the TV remote.
(Click) 24-hour sports….
(Click) Infomercial…
(Click) Diane Keaton
fills the screen, tucking an adorable curly-haired moppet into bed. Maddie turns up the volume a little and
settles in…
CUT TO:
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
Scene 3
In the Lexus
Thursday - 2:53 am
Cue Music:
When I’m worried, and I
can’t sleep
I count my blessings
instead of sheep
And I fall asleep
counting my blessings
David drives along the
street, making a right turn to pull up in front of Café Herrera. As before, the street is dark and quiet. Even more so tonight: just as he parks, the
streetlight in front of the cafe flickers out.
David: Great.
When my bankroll is
getting small
I think of when I had
none at all
And I fall asleep
counting my blessings
Rolling his window down,
he stares out into the night. Suddenly,
there is a small flicker of yellow light...and a shape detaches itself from the
general blackness. David can just hear
the aerosol “hisssss” of a
spray-paint can.
He eases out of the car
and crosses the street, Nikes silent on the pavement. Creeping around the side of the building, he
can see the black-clad figure waving his arms, covering the wall in a burst of
color.
David: (muttering) Well, at least we know
it ain’t the Angel Gabriel.
David takes a slow step
forward. The sudden crunch of glass
under his shoe is loud as a gunshot.
The vandal drops his can
with a CLUNK!, grabs a bag, and takes off. Racing to the back of the parking lot, he
scrambles onto a Dumpster and vaults over the wall, grunting as he lands...and
David follows suit.
A chase ensues—we follow
them around a few corners, down a few blocks, through a hidden alley—until the
suspect disappears into a building, a heavy metal door clanging shut behind
him.
David pushes through the
door, finding himself in a dark corridor.
There is no sign of his quarry—no sound of footsteps on the linoleum. He hurries down the hallway, stumbling first
over a metal shelving unit. A cascade of
books thumps to the floor, catching his toe.
David: Damnit!
Limping on, he trips
over something hard and lumpy, which proves to be the suspect’s backback. He picks
it up, and we follow him to the end of the corridor. There are two doors to choose from: one to
his left, and one in front of him, a twin to the door he came in. He goes through it into the alley outside and
looks around; the suspect has vanished.
David: Maybe I spoke too soon...maybe the guy really does have wings.
He heads back inside and
through the second door, just wanting to double-check…and runs smack into a young
man—of the cloth.
Well…David thinks he’s a priest…he’s wearing the
costume, anyway, though he looks like he’s barely started shaving.
Priest: Oof! (Backs up a step) You don’t
need to be in such a hurry to seek the Lord, my friend. He is
the soul of patience, you know.
David: Yeah, I’ve heard that.
Priest: I’m Father Benson…how can I help you?
David swallows a chuckle
at the thought of this…kid…being called “Father.”
David: Have you seen a guy...dark hair…dark clothes…
He realizes he has no further
description to give—he couldn’t see much, other than a figure running.
Father Benson: No—no guy…except you.
(Concerned) Would you like to sit down?
David looks around. He stands in the sanctuary of a small
church. In contrast to the back hallway,
the space before him is bright, lit by racks of candles that line the walls,
their flames reflecting a series of stained-glass windows.
The altar is covered with
a simple red cloth, but the brass ornaments on it have the luster of much
polishing. A small ceramic statue of
Mother Mary stands next to the lectern.
The peace of the place
draws David in; he chooses a pew, genuflects, and sits in the silence. He feels a little self-conscious, but the
pews around him are empty…unsurprisingly, considering the hour. Between the double-stakeouts and everything
going on with the baby, it’s the first chance he’s had to just…be.
Finally, his head bows…
David: (VO) OK…so…it’s been
quite a stretch since I’ve done this…I know you already know what’s going
on…that omniscient thing must come in pretty handy. I just…I’m not sure what we should do…maybe
my gut is right—but what if it’s not? If
you could just maybe send me some kind of sign—no need to go the burning bush
route or anything—I’d appreciate it.
Some time later, he hears the
priest’s quiet step behind him.
Father: I don’t want to bother you, but you seemed upset when you
came in. Would you like to make your Confession?
David: Haven’t done that in a while...maybe since before you were
an altar boy.
Father: (smiling) What is it they say
about falling off a bike?
David: I don’t know, Padre...if I go into the box with you, I’d
probably be doing Hail Marys til
I was ninety.
The priest seems
thrilled by the prospect.
Father: (eagerly) Are you in a state of
mortal sin?
David hesitates…but the
priest’s puppyish enthusiasm for his calling is kind of endearing. David
decides to throw him a bone, though he’s not expecting any real help to come
from such a beardless quarter.
David: I haven’t been to Mass in a long time, and I’m lucky enough
to have the love of a good—no, a great—woman…but
she doesn’t have a ring on her finger, if you know what I mean.
This doesn’t faze the
good Father, much…it’s L.A., after all.
Father: And you don’t intend to change either condition?
David: Well, I don’t know about the Mass...but
I definitely won’t be changing the
woman…(pauses)…in spite of everyone wanting to throw rice at us, we’re pretty
happy the way we are right now. But the rest
of it…that might be in your Boss’s hands.
Father: OK then…how about a conversation, instead of a confession?
David: (slowly) Yeah...OK. My partner and I have to make a decision
about something—and we don’t agree.
Father: I see…disagreements between couples can be difficult.
David: (small chuckle) Not for us—they’re our bread and
butter. But this time, it’s a test—
Father: (approving) Exactly! God is testing you—
David: No…I mean, it’s a real test. A medical test—she thinks we should do it,
and I think we shouldn’t.
Father: What is stopping you?
David: There’s a risk, to her health...(defensive)...and
besides, I know there’s nothing
wrong.
Father: (hesitant) Well…only God knows.
David: But I have faith—we’re supposed to have faith, right?
A beat...
Father: Are you afraid?
David: Of course I’m afraid!
She could be hurt—
Father: No—are you afraid of the results?
Silence from David.
Father: (clears throat) If you’ll allow
me...fear is not the same as faith—fear is the absence of faith. I have no
doubt that you believe...but having
faith means trusting that God will give you the strength to face any outcome.
David shakes his head.
David: (under his breath) Out of the mouths of babes… (Looks heavenward)
Duly noted.
He stands and picks up
the backpack.
David: I’d better be getting along, Padre—don’t want to add “home
too late” to my list of sins.
They stand for a moment
in the aisle. The priest makes the sign
of the cross over David.
Father: Bless you and yours, my friend.
David: Thanks, Father.
The priest reaches into
the pocket of his cassock and pulls out...a business card. David takes it, in surprise.
Father: (shrugging) What can I say? It’s the 90s—and we have a very savvy
bishop. So…if you find yourself
requiring any...ceremonies...in the coming months, let me know.
David: (smiles) If it ever comes up...I’ll do that.
David heads down the
aisle. At the front door, however, he
turns around. Going to the nearest rack
of candles, he drops a coin in the box, takes one of the slim tapers, and
lights it...and we
FREEZE FRAME
CUT TO:
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
Scene 4
The Hayes-Addison Home
Wednesday - 4:00 am
David lets himself in
and wearily climbs the stairs to the Hayes-Addison bedroom. Moonlight streams through the open curtains,
over a sleeping Maddie, curled up on her side in silk pajamas.
Cue Music:
I think about a nursery
and I picture curly heads
And one by one I count
them as they slumber in their beds
If you’re worried, and
you can’t sleep
Just count your
blessings instead of sheep
And you’ll fall asleep
counting your blessings...
He approaches the bed
and just stands there for a moment, drinking in her beauty, loving the picture
she makes, the slight swell of the bedclothes over her stomach. He sees the brochures on the bed, and picks
the book up off the floor, thumbing through it briefly…then clicks off the TV. Very softly, he trails one finger through the
silky curls splayed out on the pillow.
Maddie stirs…smiles…but doesn’t waken.
If you’re worried, and
you can’t sleep
Just count your
blessings instead of sheep
And you’ll fall asleep
counting your blessings
COMMERCIAL BREAK
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
ACT IV - Scene 1
In the Lexus
Wednesday - 12:15 pm
Maddie: So, you think this will work?
David: Señor Herrera seems like a
cat who’s got his finger on the pulse of this neighborhood...I’m betting he has
seen that backpack somewhere before.
Call it a hunch...call it detective’s intuition...flatfoot’s forecast...
Maddie: Call it “you better hope you’re right.”
They park in front of
Café Herrera; David grabs the shopping bag containing the backpack. The restaurant, a modest place with
well-scrubbed tables, is buzzing; a large crowd is gathered around the main
counter, waving photos, flowers, even a flag or two. An older woman in a brightly-printed
housedress and apron, presumably Señora Herrera,
attempts to calm the masses.
She spots David and
Maddie and waves them back. They follow
her down a narrow, twisting corridor, while she vents her frustrations.
Señora: You must be los
detectives...(shaking her head)...madre de dios—these
people! They want to know where “their” painting has gone. Did you make the painting, I say? Do you pay the lease on the parking lot? No...then it is not “your” painting. Ach...and some have driven here from miles
away, expecting to be healed. “My sister
has been in agony—la espalda!” they
say—“Now she feels fine!” I do not know
whether it is un
milagro or
not—
They finally reach a
small office, where Señor Herrera sits behind a desk,
on the phone.
Señor: (angrily) Yes, I see—twenty-four hours—FINE! (Slams phone
down)
David and Maddie edge
into the small space.
Maddie: Have we come at a bad time?
Señor: No...(waves at phone)...it is my
son. He did not come home last night—the
police say I can’t—
He freezes, as David
pulls the backpack out of the shopping bag.
Señor: Where did you get that?
David: (with look at Maddie) Recognize
this, do you? Your mystery artist
dropped it when I was chasing him last night.
(He shakes it a little, so the clanging of metal-on-metal can be
heard) Seven cans of spray paint in
here...and one photograph.
Señor: That—that is my
son’s! What—I can’t believe—
He sits down
abruptly. Meanwhile, the Señora wedges herself into the room, catches sight of the
backpack, and yanks on David’s arm.
Señora: Where did you last
see him?
David: I lost him in the back of a church, about four blocks from
here.
Señora: (wailing) Oh, mi niño! He is out on the streets now—and who knows
what will happen to him! (To Señor) And you—you did
this! (In a deep, mocking voice) “Put
those sketches away—you need to learn the business, not waste your time drawing
cómicas!”
Maddie and David look at
each other, weighing the advisability of playing audience to a domestic
dispute, or making a break for it. They
hear the back door of the restaurant open, and in a moment, a gangly young man
with a shock of black hair appears in the corridor.
Señora: Carlos!
The boy sees the group
gathered in the office, and makes a break for it himself, dashing out the back
door.
David: (rolling his eyes) Not again!
David takes off after
him, and we follow him out the door and into the parking lot. Carlos starts to climb the Dumpster, not
realizing the hinged lid is drawn back; David pushes him from behind and the
kid falls in, landing at the bottom with a THUNK!
David looks down at
Carlos, who is rubbing his head.
David: Sorry, buddy…we’re already
into the fourth act—I was not gonna let this become a missing person’s case!
Carlos sullenly gets to
his feet and scrambles out with David’s assistance. David keeps a good hold on him as they climb
the steps to the back door.
David: Hey…don’t worry about it…I once
tried to take off on my old man…only took me about a week til
I could sit down again.
They’re met inside the
door by Mamá Herrera, Maddie close on her heels.
Señora: Carlos!
Maddie: David!
Mamá throws her substantial
arms around her son, while David slips by them to grasp Maddie’s
hand.
Señora: Mijo...I was so worried!!
Señor: Estúpido!
The Señor stands in the office doorway, drawing
himself up to his full five-feet-six...but seeming to tower over them in his
anger.
Carlos: Papi—
Señor: You take off—you worry
your mother—and what is this? (He holds up the backpack)
Carlos: You wouldn’t listen to me about art school--I just wanted
to show you what I could do! And do you
know what, Papi?
(He gestures toward the front of the restaurant) Those people loved it...it made a difference
to them--
Señor: (roaring) That’s enough!
Carlos subsides, still
glaring, while Señor Herrera turns to David and
Maddie.
Señor: (stiffly) I thank you, Señor
Addison and Señora Hayes. If you will excuse us, I will have a check
delivered to you tomorrow.
Thus dismissed, they
step toward the back door; Maddie, however, turns back.
Maddie: Carlos? It was a
beautiful painting.
Carlos: Gracias, Señora.
Out in the parking lot,
David pulls his sunglasses out of his coat pocket and slips them on.
David: Let’s blow this taco stand, Blondie—before it blows. I have a feeling things between Herrera Viejo
and Herrera Nuevo are gonna get pretty heated.
But Maddie’s
attention has been caught by a very young, very pregnant girl who is
approaching the parking lot wall. The
girl frowns in confusion at the unfinished painting, then shrugs her shoulders
and places a posy of homegrown flowers on the ground underneath. She stands there for a moment, hand on her
enormous belly, and walks away with a serene smile.
David: Maddie? You taking root over there?
Maddie: Just a minute, David.
Maddie walks over to the
wall. A pause…then she reaches into her purse and pulls out one of the ultrasound
photos. Laying it down next to the
flowers, she touches the painting…and heads over to the car.
David: (smiling) Hedging your bets,
Hayes?
Maddie: Always. (Her eyes twinkle) You should see the guy I have
lined up in case you don’t work out.
David: Oh, I’ll work,
baby. Don’t you worry!
David helps her into the
Lexus, then goes around to his side. He sits behind the wheel for several seconds,
tapping his finger on the gearshift.
David: I think you should call Dr. Weed and make that appointment.
Maddie: Are you sure?
David: Nope...but I’m sure of you.
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
Scene 2
Blue Moon Investigations - Maddie’s Office
Wednesday - 3:35pm
David hurries through
the door, closing it behind him and leaning against it. He is panting as though he’s just run a
gauntlet of some kind. A pink streamer
hangs over one ear.
David: Have you seen what’s going on out there?
Maddie shakes her head,
amused.
David: It’s like a rash of rose...a sea of salmon…I better get
the boys out of here while we still have some testosterone!
Maddie: Hey! Be careful what
you say—you could be facing a flush of fuschia
yourself in a few months.
David comes around the
desk and kisses her, then sits back on the corner.
David: Don’t get me wrong—I’ll be perfectly happy if Bunny turns
out to be a pint-size model of her mamma...but I hope I don’t have to sit
through this kind of hen party to prove it!
Maddie just rolls her
eyes…then takes a deep breath. A beat...and…
Maddie: We’re all set for Friday, with Dr. Weed.
David: O-K…that’s good…right?
Maddie: (with forced lightness) Yeah—I’ll probably have to be in
bed for a day or two afterward…
David: You? A day or two? In bed? That’s my kinda weekend.
Maddie: I don’t think it’ll be that
kind of weekend.
David: Right…less “horizonty,” more
“wait-on-you-hand-and-foot-y.”
Maddie: My hands and feet will probably be fine…but I might need a
few meals.
David: Ha! A few
meals, she says…this from the woman who eats like the Very Hungry Caterpillar
on his last day!
Maddie crumples a piece
of paper and throws it at him; he catches it, easily.
David: By the way, Señor Herrera dropped
our check by this morning. Sounds like
he and Carlos have reached a détente...he can work at the restaurant in the
morning, and take his art classes at night.
Maddie: That’s good. (Leans
back in her chair) Makes you realize how much we have ahead of us, doesn’t it,
David? School...adolescence...career
choices...
David: Yep. And we can
agonize about it all right now...or…
Maddie: Or?
David: Or go on the anxiety installment plan—no stress down, and small bursts of worry each month for the rest of our
lives!
They share a sweet look,
and we
CUT TO COMMERCIAL
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
EPILOGUE
The Hayes-Addison Bedroom
Saturday - 2:16pm
Maddie, wearing a
beautiful lace-trimmed peignoir, sits propped up in bed, paging through Architectural Digest. She checks the clock, sighs, and drums her
fingers on the magazine.
Just then, there is a
jolt against the open bedroom door, and David enters, bearing a tray loaded
with various and sundry items. He sets
the tray down on the end of the bed and goes into patent-medicine-salesman mode.
David: Yes, sirree--we have everything
for the convalescent!
Maddie: David, you make it sound like I’m ninety.
David: Only in wisdom, my dear...
Maddie wrinkles her
nose, still not finding this particularly complimentary, and David forges on,
holding the items up as he “sells” them...
David: OK, we’ve got your crackers...saltine and whole
grain...your mountain spring water...your sliced fruit...
Maddie: Boring!
David: Ah, a tough customer, eh? Some green tea...that’s
exotic...
Maddie shakes her head.
David: A carrot...(holds up a squeezable
plastic carrot)...wait--how did that get in here? This one’s for Woman’s Best
Friend...
He tosses the carrot to
Miss Me, dozing in the corner. It bumps
her on the nose, and she wakes, grabbing it from the floor with a happy bark
and bringing it to David. He tosses it into the hallway, and she runs after it.
David: Where were we? Right—cards? A little
poker might be just the thing...
More shaking of head.
David: Travel Scrabble? (Vehement shaking) C’mon, Blondie, I’m running out of stuff
here...
Maddie: What’s that book?
David: This? (Holds up a novel) Some trash Terry brought by for
you...
Maddie: I’ll take it.
David looks at her
doubtfully.
Maddie: I know I don’t usually read this stuff…but it’s got to be
more interesting than this... (indicates magazine)
David scans at the front
of the book, featuring a shirtless Fabio, that mainstay of the
romance-publishing world. He shrugs,
unimpressed.
David: He doesn’t have anything I haven’t got.
Maddie: Except about a few hundred book covers...some film and TV
roles--
David: Yeah, yeah...fine...
He tosses her the
book. She props it open on one knee,
while he slowly takes a white cloth napkin off of a tall, frosty glass.
David: I guess if you’re salivating over Pec-Man,
I’ll have to drink this all myself...
Maddie’s head snaps to attention.
David lifts the glass and swirls it around, popping two straws in it.
David: Root beer float...made with Haagen-Dazs and the full-bodied
brew of IWBC...(he sniffs)...Mmmmm...(he takes a sip)
Maddie tosses the book
aside with a “hand it over” gesture. David does, and sits down next to her on the
bed.
David: So...when do you think we’ll hear?
Maddie: (slurping happily) Hmmm?
David: From Dr. Weed?
Maddie puts the glass
down on the nightstand.
Maddie: I think it takes a few days...
He nods, but his concern
is evident; she puts her hand to his cheek.
Maddie: Try not to worry--our thoughts create our world, you know.
David: (raising eyebrow) Where’d that little bon mot come from?
Maddie: Just something Agnes said to me...
David: She give you any Kool-Aid with that?
Maddie: David! (pushes his shoulder
lightly) Zen is not a cult...I
thought it was pretty good advice...don’t get caught up in negative thinking.
David: Didn’t I say that, back when this whole thing started?
Maddie: Well...I think this is more about not
letting reality overwhelm you...believing in a silver lining...
David: Yeah, OK...we call that “faith” where I come from.
Maddie: I have faith...
David looks at her,
surprised.
Maddie: I have faith in us,
David. (She takes his hand) We can do
this—no matter what the circumstances are.
They kiss, and he leans
his forehead against hers.
David: Maddie Hayes...poster girl for faithful atheists
everywhere—
The phone rings.
David jumps about a
mile, and goes to grab the receiver, succeeding only in knocking it to the
floor. He snatches it up.
David: Hello? (a pause) Oh, hi...yes, of course...well, why don’t you talk
to the mamma herself?
He hands Maddie the
phone.
David: Dr. Weed.
Maddie: (surprised) Hello, Janet...no, I’m feeling fine...(looks up at David)...he’s taking very good care of
me...already?...oh, that was nice of you...
A long beat, while
Maddie listens intently. David starts pacing.
Maddie: Yes, I understand...OK...no, that’s right...thanks,
Janet—thanks for calling.
She lowers the phone to
her lap and stares at it. Finally, David
can’t bear the tension; he sits down next to her.
David: Maddie—
Maddie: 46 chromosomes...23 pairs...all lined up.
David: Two by two? (She nods) So...we’re fine? Good?
Maddie: (smiling)
Fine. Good. Perfect.
David slides his arms
around her, pulling her close. They both
shed a few relieved tears.
David: Thank God...or whoever.
Maddie: (laughing) Well, I’m not sure who to thank, but I know I have a lot to be grateful for...do you
realize how many “do-overs” I’ve had in my life,
David? I got a second career...a second
chance with you...and now, this...
She puts a hand on her
belly; David covers it with his.
Maddie: (whispers) I hope we’ll always remember how lucky we are.
David: I’ll be sure to remind you at those 2:00am feedings.
Maddie grins...and then her expression changes.
Her brow wrinkles...her eyes get a faraway look, as though she’s
concentrating on something only she can hear.
Or, in this case, feel.
David: Hey—don’t worry—I’ll be right there, on diaper duty—
Maddie: Shh!
A slow smile spreads
across her face...her eyes come back to David’s, shining a bright, bright blue.
Maddie: The baby...he...or she...just moved.
David: Moved?
Maddie: (nods) Moved.
David: (grinning) Guess he likes the root beer.
They share another kiss,
and the music comes up as we
FREEZE FRAME
Somewhere there's a river
Looking for a stream
Somewhere there's a dreamer
Looking for a dream
Somewhere there's a drifter
Trying to find his way
Somewhere someone's waiting
To hear somebody say
I believe in you
I can't even count the ways that
I believe in you
And all I want to do is help you to
Believe in you
Somewhere someone’s reaching
Trying to grab that ring
Somewhere there's a silent voice
Learning how to sing
Some of us can't move ahead
We're paralyzed with fear
And everybody's listening
'Cause we all need to hear
I believe in you
I can't even count the ways that
I believe in you
And all I want to do is help you to
Believe in you
I will hold you up
I will help you stand
I will comfort you when you need a friend
I will be the voice that's calling out
I
believe in you
And there are just so many ways that
I believe
Believe in you
Baby, what else can I do but believe in you
I believe
believe in you
All I want to know is you believe
Believe in you
THE END
~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~ ~|~
Song
Credits:
“What I Am,” sung by Edie Brickell
& The New Bohemians
“Baby Baby,” sung by Amy Grant
“Count Your Blessings,” sung by Bing Crosby
“I Believe in You,” sung by Amanda
Marshall
Acknowledgments:
I’ve been wanting to write this
episode for so long….but it never would have come together without the
following folks:
To Connie…what can I say?
Cheerleader, insightful reader, and great great
friend…thanks again. I owe you...
To Diane…for making a dream come true, for endless support,
and for some great lines, just when I needed them… J
To Lizzie and Sue…for
welcoming me into the fold, and rooting me on the whole way…
To all my Moonlighting friends…so fun to share my love for
this show with you!
And of course, to Glenn,
Cybill, and Bruce, without whom none of this would
make any sense. J