On Friday night, my trolley shift drags on without Harry on board. Between tours, I spend some time pondering what Harry had told me about his faith getting him through the past four years. My faith has always seemed important to me, but I don't necessarily act like it has a prominent place in my life. I had some "church friends" in high school but I never really became close to them. Dani was always my best friend, and she was never interested in church at all. God is important to me, but I usually convince myself that I'll eventually become more serious about my faith. The idea of knowing God personally isn't foreign to me, but I've never met someone with Harry's conviction or the quiet strength he embodies.

My thoughts turn to my earlier conversation with my dad. He is so firm, so solid. I can rely on him for anything. And, as evidenced by our earlier conversation, I can talk to him about anything, even if my face was burning up for a few hours afterward. I can't believe he told me that he thinks Harry might be the one. I trust my dad with all my heart, so it gives me at least some assurance that I'm not going crazy.

I sometimes think that God must be like an even better version of my dad, loving, tenacious, always there when I need Him. But occasionally, I tend to think God is more like my mom, kind of over-protective, keeping me unnecessarily sheltered, and determined to steal my joy. I know she's not an ogre, but she's so...sensible, which isn't a bad thing in general. But she's sensible to the point of not wanting me to take any risks. Ever.

At the end of the fourth tour, I receive a text from Harry: Dinner at my place tomorrow?

I send a quick reply: Sure thing.

Saturday morning, another text arrives from Harry: Pick you up @4PM. Have to prepare you for the parents. LOL.

Shoot! 4:00 PM? Dinner? What was I thinking? I had Harry on the brain and not my job. I race to Fiona's room and wake her up. "Fi, if I clear it with Sam, can you cover my trolley shifts tonight?"

"Why?" She mumbles, still half asleep.

"I'm going to meet Harry's parents tonight."

Fiona sits straight up and laughs, "Oooh, you're meeting the parents already. This is getting serious."

"Shut up!" I laugh. "Please say you can work for me? Please!"

"Yeah, sure." Fiona flops back down and throws the pillow over her head.

There is a knock on the front door at exactly 4:00. I'm still in my bathroom trying to get my long wispy hair to cooperate. The cold temperatures make it so dry that I can hardly keep it from flying up like I'm touching a static ball. I decide to pull it back into a long straight ponytail. I throw on some lip gloss and accentuate the ensemble with some tiny Christmas tree earrings.

I find Harry has already been greeted by Marcus. Surprisingly, they are having an intelligible discussion about some video game they both happen to like. I can't believe that Marcus has any conversational skills, but he is keeping Harry's interest as he describes how to beat a particularly difficult level in the game. I'm thankful that Harry doesn't seem to be holding a grudge about Marcus' insensitive comment a few nights ago.

As I come close to Harry, he turns to me and his eyes widen. "You look wonderful," he says.

"I couldn't do anything with my hair," I frown.

"It's beautiful," he whispers in my ear and then places a kiss right next to my ear. "You're beautiful...Katie," he says, testing his new nickname for me.

I crinkle my nose again, but I decide that I'll allow it for the time being, mostly because I'm still reeling from the fact that he just said I'm beautiful.

Marcus makes a gagging noise and I realize that the semi-civilized kid I saw a few minutes earlier has disappeared.

"So you want to show me how to behave in front of your parents?" I ask as I'm about to get my coat on.

"No!" He blurts. "That's not it at all!" His laughter vibrates against me as he wraps an arm around me in a hug. "You're perfect. It's just that they still shelter me since the accident."

"Are they going to come out and greet me with a shotgun?" I tease.

"Maybe," he jokes. "My sister and her husband are cool. But my mom seems to have reverted to treating me like a five-year-old instead of a college senior. I love her and all, but she can be kind of overbearing sometimes. I mean, she keeps trying to help me with everything – school, work.... relationships." He glances at me warily. "She's not going to judge you or anything, but she just wants to know that you get me. That you know how fragile I am."

"You!?" I laugh. "Fragile? You're the strongest person I know!"

"Yeah, well, my mom seems to think I need all this protection since the accident, you know? That's one of the reasons I spend a lot of time away from the cabin. We're on this family vacation, but I want to her to accept that I'm capable of living my own life, that I'm an adult."

"I completely understand about that," I commiserate with Harry. "Living at home while I'm going to college has the same challenges. My mom thinks I'm still in high school." He nods in understanding.

We decide to take a drive instead of heading back to his cabin. It seems like there's more he wants to tell me and I want to listen. He must have wanted to pick me up early so that we could talk before dinner.

We pull up to the beach front and park where we had the night that I met him. Harry hesitates and then a kind of sad look crosses his face. "My dad changed after the accident. He's different somehow, like he can't get over the fact that something so terrible happened to our family. Instead of just taking the time to grieve over it, like the rest of us did, he seemed to push past that and push me harder, like he could force me to recover by sheer will power. I told you that my dad is kind of a sports nut, right?"

"Yeah, he totally looks like a football coach," I tell him. "I was surprised to see him in a tie and sport coat and hear him speaking with a proper English accent."

"Oh, yeah, you met him at the college, didn't you? Well, we were the classic sports family. Gemma and I did everything: little league, soccer, football, volleyball, gymnastics.

"American football is my dad's passion." He turned to me and said, "You know there's a difference between football and American football in England, right? Regular football for us is what you call soccer." I nodded. "Anyway, he had me throwing a football - an American football - since I was three years old, even earlier than baseball or soccer. Some of his fanaticism rubbed off on me, but I eventually quit football in seventh grade."

He leans back and looks up at the roof of the car. "He was so tough on me in middle school that I ended up quitting the team. I still played baseball and soccer, but he didn't pressure me as much in those sports.

"He was furious with me for quitting football, and for a long time, I felt like that was how he viewed me - as a quitter. Looking back, I think he was just so proud of my athletic accomplishments and abilities that he wanted me to go all the way. He wanted me to join the NFL, which wasn't really an option for him growing up. I think that he wanted to experience some of that vicariously through me.

"I eventually fell in love with running. I don't know why. I'm not built for football anyway, and I finally felt like I had found my own passion. My dad didn't coach track or cross country at all, so maybe it was also a little bit of an escape for me. I genuinely loved the feeling it gave me to just be free to go for miles without having to think about anything else but the road."

Harry takes a deep breath and asks with a smirk, "Are you starting to feel like my therapist?"

"No, I love hearing about your life, all of it," I assured him.

He continues. "My relationship with my dad was never the same after I quit football, but he gradually accepted it. Then we had the accident. He treated my recovery from the accident like any other sports injury. He would sometimes get in my face at therapy and try to push me to my limit. I used to get so ticked off at him. He would push and push and push, just like he was coaching me in football all over again. I hated it. And I started to hate him." His voice ends with a whisper.

What on earth can I say to that kind of confession? I simply reach over and squeeze Harry's hand.

"Now, he just seems kind of resentful toward me. I don't want to make him out to sound like he's evil or something. He just can't get over it, you know? Like I'm just not trying hard enough." He breathes a deep sigh.

"Well, I'll just try to roll with it, okay? Don't worry about me." I assure him that I can handle it, and give him a quick kiss. "Besides, they're probably not going to embarrass you too much in front of a guest." Harry looks doubtful but he shifts the car into gear and drives to his cabin.

Harry's mom greets me at the door like I'm some long-lost relative. "Oh, Kate, dear, I'm so glad to finally meet you." She squishes me as she speaks. She is a tall, fairly thin auburn-brunette and she's absolutely beautiful. Her hug does feel kind of like I'm being squeezed by a big mama bear, but so far, she's not quite the over-protective mommy that Harry described.

His dad walks in a few moments later. I turn and say, "Hello, Dr. Styles. Nice to see you again." He shakes my hand with an overly firm grip, but says nothing.

Just before we sit down for dinner, Harry's sister Gemma and her husband Michael arrive home from Christmas shopping. Harry makes the introductions and I feel at ease with Gemma instantly.

Gemma is taller than her mom, has the same eyes as Harry, but her hair is a much lighter color than his beautiful brown waves. Her hair is more of a sandy brown and it gently flows down around her face and shoulders in a way that I can never get my hair to do. She has the same shape face and the same smile, and she even sports the same adorable dimple that Harry has.

Her husband Michael is all blonde hair and blue eyes, but it looks as if he's trying to grow a mustache. Maybe he's trying to look older, since he has quite the baby face. I can totally relate.

"Did you hit the Lamplighter shop?" I ask them. "They have the coolest Christmas stuff in town."

"Yes, we even bought an ornament for the baby!" Gemma gushes. "For next year of course."

I'm glad Harry catches my wide eyes and interjects, "Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. I'm going to be an uncle."

"That's awesome! Congratulations!" I say to him and to the happy parents-to-be. I hardly even know them, but I give Gemma a congratulatory hug. "Can I see the ornament?"

Gemma rushes over to grab the bag and comes back with a Noah's Ark-themed pewter ornament that says "Baby's First Christmas." There is an opening for a tiny baby picture at the top of the ark.

"It's so sweet," I gush in confirmation.

We're seated at the table and the conversation at dinner turns toward talk of babies and showers and nurseries. Dr. Styles even lets a smile cross his face at the mention of having a grand-baby.

I find myself thinking about Harry and how he will be an awesome uncle. I'm sure he will make a great father, too. He is so strong, so grounded. I blush a bit as I realize where my thoughts are leading me. I hope no one notices. But my next thought takes over before I can stop it: Can Harry have kids? I wonder if his spinal injury affected any of that.

It seems as if Mrs. Styles reads my mind because she looks directly at me and says, "Harry may have to be satisfied with having nieces and nephews. He may not be able to have children. You know, because of the accident."

Gemma almost chokes on her mouthful of mashed potatoes and practically yells, "Mother!"

Harry just looks at her for a moment and then says in a deadpan voice, "Thanks, Mom. That's really appropriate."

"What?!" Mrs. Styles sounds as if she's the one who should be offended. "I'm just letting Kate know what she's getting herself into. The doctors told us that was a possibility after the accident. And I mean, even if you can conceive, having a baby is a lot of work. How is Harry going to even carry a baby in his arms?"

"MOM!" Gemma yells louder this time.

"For goodness sake, Anne," Dr. Styles interjects. "Stop treating him like a child. Kate's just having dinner with us, they're not getting married." He turns his attention to Harry, "You still have a lot of work to do, son. You're not going to go to medical school or, hell, even walk down the aisle on crutches. You gotta keep pushing yourself."

Harry's face turns to stone. Then he slowly looks at his father and says in a steely voice, "Dad, I thought we were past this. You don't think I've been working hard? You think that I've been slacking off, so that's why I can't walk?!"

"You're gonna walk again if you keep pushing yourself. I'm telling you, it's all about hard work and perseverance," his dad says loudly.

"Dad, I can't heal my own spine! It doesn't matter how much I work at it, my spine will always be damaged! Why can't you get that?" Harry snaps.

"Because of that attitude, right there, son! You don't have the right attitude. You don't know how much better you will get unless you try!"

My face has been on fire for several uncomfortable moments, and I know there is no way to hide it. I am mortified by the turn the conversation has taken, but I am also becoming indignant. How can Harry's own parents not see how strong and capable their son is?

I avoid looking at Dr. Styles at all. If I look at him, I'm quite sure I will burst into flames from my fury. I can't believe the words coming out of his mouth, or from Mrs. Styles, for that matter.

Mike gently tries to steer his in-laws away from the disaster they are creating. "Mom, did you say we had some more gravy to go with the roast?"

Mrs. Styles gets up and walks to the stove, but she doesn't take the not-so-subtle hint from Mike. As she returns to the table with the gravy boat, she takes over the conversation again and says, "Kate, you just have to understand how much work it's going to be to take care of Harry."

Oh. My. God.

Dr. Styles turns on his wife and says, "You're not helping him at all by coddling him! Harry doesn't need someone to take care of him!"

Harry has long since finished eating and has been trying to cover the humiliation on his face. With his parents' last comments, he simply gets up and leaves the table.

Not quite sure what to do, I simply say, "Thank you, Mrs. Styles. Dinner was wonderful. I'd like to excuse myself as well." I don't wait for permission as I get up quickly to find Harry. I can hear very loud and agitated whispers behind me as I leave the dining room.

I find him sitting outside on the porch which has been cleared of snow. He sits in a porch swing that is rowing gently back and forth in the breeze, the chain creaking from his weight. I sit down quietly and take his hand. I'm not sure there are any words that I can say, so I don't say anything.

A few minutes later, Mike comes out and says, "Gem and I would like to take you two out for a drink."

"Well, I'm not quite old enough, but I'm happy to just order a soda," I smile at the first sign of prudent behavior I've seen in the last twenty minutes.

Gemma follows and quickly says, "How about dessert, then? Obviously, I can't have a drink, either; although I could really use one right about now."

Harry and I go back inside to get our coats and I say a quick thank you to his parents. Then we climb in the back seat of the car, with Mike and Gemma in the front. Harry wastes no time in putting his arm around me and tugging me into his shoulder. "So, you survived my parents," he whispers.

"Just barely," I admit. He laughs and pulls me even closer.

"I am so sorry. That was just so...wow...I'm so sorry." He nuzzles into my neck. "I had actually hoped they'd be on their best behavior."

I chuckle and then close my eyes, letting my discomfort evaporate, enjoying the warmth and smell of the guy who has stolen my heart.

My guy.

As we indulge in our gooey desserts and fancy coffees at the cafe, Gemma smiles at us and offers, "Mike and I figured everyone needed a stiff drink after that train wreck. But a sugar overload works, too."I find myself relaxing more, knowing that not everyone in Harry's family finds the idea of "us" to be absurd. "You two are good together," she says in all seriousness. "I can feel it."

She focuses on me and says, "Kate, I've never seen him so happy." I blush as she continues, "I'm being completely honest. We all know it's been a tough few years, but Harry is so determined, so strong. I have no idea what on earth Mom and Dad are talking about." She turns to look her brother straight in the eye. "Harry, you will make a great husband and a great father. They're full of shit!"

We all burst out laughing and I feel comfortable for the first time all night.

"Thanks, Gem," Harry finally says. "But you might want to tone it down a bit. I don't think Kate is ready to marry me yet. We've only known each other a few weeks. You're going to scare her off." He smiles and squeezes my hand.

We take Gemma and Mike back to the cabin before Harry drives me home. He turns to look at me once we've parked in my driveway. "I am really so sorry, Kate. I had no idea any of that was going to happen. I guess it wasn't quite the right time to introduce you to my parents."

"It's okay," I sigh. "I just might not want to come back to your place for a while." His face breaks into a wide grin and he pulls me in tight for a lingering kiss.

* * * * *

I'm so excited about the attention this story is receiving. I still think it's a bit more amateur than my current work, but I'm just so excited that you are all enjoying the story. :D

You can thank dafnefreaks for the double update idea ;)