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Season 9 - Episode 6




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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



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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


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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.


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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.


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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)'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




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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.


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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.



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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.


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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




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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.



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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.



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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.




~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~



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…




~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~


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 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






~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~


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





~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~


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 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) 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 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? 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




~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~




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,, 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, 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 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




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





~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~  ~|~



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




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

Comments always welcome.