Another Day

by

Caroline
(Jetta1521@aol.com)

Miguel heard the splash, but convinced it was nothing, turned his attention back to the gauges in front of him. At the rate they were going, the vessel would arrive at its destination almost an hour ahead of schedule. He checked his watch again. Yes, they would definitely be early. The captain would be very pleased. He stepped onto the deck, the salty night air absorbing him instantly. He made his way back to his superior's room. A scream stopped him in his tracks.

A worried cry came from the other side of the boat. "Miss Fine!" The steward heard the echo through the night air. It sounded like the cry of the Englishman who had chartered the yacht. He changed direction and heading away from the captain's chambers skidded around the front of the boat just in time to see a man diving into the water.

"Man overboard!" Like clockwork Miguel enacted the procedures that he as a boatsman was so familiar with. Repeating his shouts with the hopes that the rest of the crew would hear, he threw on a life jacket and unlatched the lifeboat from the deck. Several members of the crew had awakened and ran to help him lower the boat into the water. Another crewmember joined him in the lifeboat as they began lowering it into the freezing waters off the New England coast. The searchlights from the boat illuminated the water, but the two newlyweds were nowhere to be found.

What a honeymoon, Miguel thought as he perused the waters. Boy are they going to have a story to tell their family when they get back. If they get back. Miguel remembered that two lives were hanging in the balance. He shook the thought from his head, recalling his own honeymoon. He and his wife could never have afforded a honeymoon as elegant as the Sheffields, but it had been very romantic. Well, it was up until his wife accidentally set her negligee ablaze with one of the many candles they had lit in their hotel room. He smiled at the memory, thankful that they hadn't suffered any injuries. But the missing couple might not be so lucky. Miguel squinted his eyes focusing in harder into the night. He saw a break in the water almost a hundred feet from them, and looking through the binoculars realized that the heads of two people created the disturbance in the sea. He instructed his boat mate to steer the raft to where he saw the couple surface and in no time they were floating beside them. The woman was unconscious and the man was struggling to keep them both afloat. He was drowning more so in her hair than in the water. Miguel lifted the woman out of the water first. She was practically weightless. They helped the man in next. He was shivering uncontrollably, even as he sat wrapped in the blanket they had given him. The lifeboat returned to the yacht where they were all lifted safely out of the water. Even though the man was still recovering from the shock of the past hour, he was able to thank Miguel and the rest of the crew for saving not only his life but, more importantly, saving the life of his wife. The thought of Fran suddenly consumed him and he rushed to the bedroom where she had been taken.

He found her lying on the bed, still unconscious. She was dressed in dry clothes but her hair was still wet. The maid who had cleaned her up and the captain of the boat stood by her bedside and greeted Max when he joined them.

"Is she alright?" he pleaded, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed, her limp hand clasped in his own.

The captain cleared his throat to answer. "She'll be fine. She's still in shock from the ordeal, but her body temperature is very close to normal."

The maid interjected, her French accent thick but confident. "She came to several times when I was changing her, asking for 'Maxwell'. I assume zat is you. I'm sure she will be okay." She bowed as she exited the room.

The captain followed. "I'll leave you alone now. If you need anything at all you know where to find me."

"Thank you very much," Maxwell said, and the captain just waved as he closed the door behind him.

Max turned his attention to his wife. "Fran," he cooed her name as he caressed her cheek, which flushed at his touch. "Fran, I though I had lost you. Can you imagine? We finally get married and you decide to go for a swim where might have never come back. Don't you ever do that to me again. I swear if anything had happened to you I'd have never forgiven myself. Promise me you'll never leave me. Promise me!" He was practically yelling and could see her eyes struggling to open. For a moment she stared at him and then with a horse voice she said, "I promise," and closed her eyes again. He smiled as he joined her on the bed and they lay there together, wrapped in each other's arms until the light of the next day flooded the room. Max rolled over and reached out for her, but when his arms were greeted by nothing but empty sheets, he sat up and began to panic. Where was she?

He shot out of bed, still in his tuxedo, which was wrinkled and disheveled.

"Fran?" he called. The worry welled up in his chest, almost hurting him. He was on his way out the door to the deck when he heard the water running in the bathroom. He found her in there brushing her teeth.

"Fran, are you okay?" He poked his head in the doorway. She gargled one last time.

"I'm fine, sweetheart." She began to cough and leaned on the sink for support. He ran to her side to help her. "I guess I'm still a little beat up from last night."

He helped her back into bed.

Just my luck, she thought to herself as she slid beneath the covers. Something like this would happen on my honeymoon. Why should everything go right? But as Maxwell sat next to her with a worried expression consuming his face, she realized that they had come together in a way far more intimately than sleeping together could ever connect them. The man she had married had risked his life for her, the ultimate expression of love and devotion. Any doubt or fears she had about their upcoming life together disintegrated in that moment.

He placed a soft kiss on her lips then, made sure she was okay and went into the bathroom to wash up. They spent the day in bed together, talking and resting and regaining their strength. They had two more months left on their honeymoon, and Fran had no intention of being confined to that bed. She wanted to get better as fast as she could. However, a good part of the next two months ended up being spent in bed, but not resting. Neither Fran nor Max could complain. It had been the best two months either one of them had had in a long time. Fran was pleased that Max was rarely called away on business, and when he was on the phone or at the computer she went shopping in the various specialty stores. It was something wonderful to both of them to be able to share the beauty of the islands with the one they loved, and by the time they returned to New York, they were sad to see their romantic getaway come to an end. The last night of the honeymoon had been one of the most gratifying experiences of his life and they were both exhausted when they returned home the next day.

After being pumped relentlessly for details about the honeymoon by Niles and the kids, the happy couple collapsed into bed, sleep coming almost instantaneously. Trying to make up five years of loneliness in two months had been an exhausting feat for both of them, and they slept well into the next day.

The next week was spent moving Fran into Maxwell's room. Niles had moved most of her stuff while they were gone, but she still had to organize it. And Max had two months of work to catch up on and almost immediately they were thrust into their old lives with a new twist.

Fran and Niles had been cleaning when they stopped to take a break. He poured them each a cup of coffee and Fran was filling him in on the details of the honeymoon that she had conveniently left out when she told the children about the trip. "Hi Fran, Niles," Maggie said in a singsong voice as she walked in the kitchen, a huge smile covering her face.

"Who's the guy?" Fran jumped up from the table and refilled her coffee cup.

"How do you know there's a guy?" Maggie asked as she ransacked the refrigerator for a snack.

"Trust me, you don't have a smile on your face like that because you got an A on your last midterm. So, who is he??"

Maggie giggled. "Well, his name is Logan. I met him at a poetry reading we had to go to for English class. Oh, Fran, he is so cute and so sensitive." Maggie got a far away look in her eyes. "And when he reads I can just tell that his poetry is talking to me. Oh Fran, you have to come with me to the next session. You'll love him. And I think he's going to ask me out. Every time he reads he looks at me as if to say," her voice dropped to a whisper, "'this is written for you.'" She swooned. "So will you come?"

"Sure sweetie. I'm dying to meet this Mr. Sensitivity. When is the meeting?"

"Tonight at seven. He even called me to remind me to come!" The smile on her face broadened as she ran upstairs to her room to begin getting ready.

Fran looked at Niles. "You ever been to a poetry reading?"

He shook his head. "Not unless you count the time Mr. Sheffield got drunk and tried his hand at writing a play based loosely on the works of Dr. Suess."

Fran smiled and they finished their snack before going back to work on the bedroom.

"Ooh, Maggie, this is all so 'Dead Poets Society,'" Fran whispered as they crowded into the small room where everyone had gathered for the meeting.

"Oh there he is! Don't look, don't look!" Maggie whispered as Fran strained to get a better look at Logan.

He was standing in a corner, apparently preparing the poems he was going to read for that meeting. Fran was impressed, Maggie sure knew how to pick them. Fran guessed him to be anywhere from twenty-four to twenty-six years old, and she knew Max was not going to be happy that his daughter had a thing for an older man. But he still had a childlike look on his face that made him seem like a teenager. His strong features were softened by lines around his eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He was gorgeous.

The meeting was called to order and the poets came up one by one to read their selections. Fran started to doze off but was jolted awake as she began to fall of the chair. She caught herself and yawned for what seemed to be the hundredth time that evening. She looked over at Maggie, sure that she would be asleep as well because this sort of thing had always failed to entertain the sprightly blond. But Maggie sat up attentively, taking in almost ever word and gesture. Fran looked at her watch again, disappointed to find that only thirteen seconds had passed from the time she had last checked it. Logan finally took the stage, and as he spoke, Fran couldn't help but feel there was something about him that wasn't right. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew that if Maggie were to get involved with this man she would only get hurt.

"So, what'd you think?" Maggie asked on the ride home.

"I don't know. He was kind of funny lookin'. Did you notice how one ear was bigger than the other? And did you see how his eyes crinkled when he smiled. That's always a sign that they're hiding something."

Maggie looked at her as if she were crazy. "Fran, are you serious? What's wrong with you. All of the sudden you're married and every other guy is all wrong."

Fran wondered if that was true. But she shook it off. No, there was just something about this guy that made him all wrong for Maggie. She couldn't put her finger on it. She just knew. But if Maggie was going to believe her she had to find out what is was. Suddenly she had an idea.

"Maggie, why don't you invite everyone over for the next poetry reading to our house? There's much more room in the house than in that cramped up little room in the library. And that'll give you an opportunity to talk to Logan."

"Fran, you're a genius! That's perfect!" She couldn't wait to start planning for next week, but Fran couldn't help but feel less than excited about the upcoming evening.

The night of the poetry reading came faster than Fran had hoped and Maggie was busy making sure Niles put the right finishing touches on the hors d'oeuvres before everyone showed up.

"Fran, I'm so excited! Logan is going to be in my house. This is so cool! Do you think I'm dressed okay?" She looked beautiful in the silk emerald sundress, but Fran didn't want to say so as she just nodded her head. "I just want to look perfect. I know he's a little older than me, but we relate totally on the same level." Fran didn't answer.

"Fran, are you okay?"

Before she could answer or try to talk Maggie out of her latest crush, the doorbell rang. Niles announced the entrance of the poetry group and they all sat down to begin the meeting. Fran slipped away toward the foyer just as Brighton came bounding down the stairs. "Hi, Ma!" He addressed Fran playfully.

"Hi B." He grabbed his coat out of the closet. "Where are you going?"

He twirled a set of car keys in his hand. "Tim and I are going to go cruise chicks." He opened the front door.

"Hold it right there, Mister! How do you intend to cruise these chicks?" She pointed to the keys in his hand.

"Please can I take the Porsche? You can't pick up girls in a Lincoln Town car. Trust me, I've tried."

Fran rolled her eyes, thinking that things could be worse than only having a limo to go out in.

"Please Fran. Please."

"Oh, alright, fine." But before she could say anymore, he slipped through the front door.

She closed the door behind him and headed for the stairs when she felt an arm wrap around her middle as her husband kissed her neck.

"Darling, how long are these people going to be in my house?" He gestured to the living room.

"With any luck they'll be gone soon." She turned to face Max. "I'm worried about Maggie."

He had heard her worries all week. "If you're so worried, why did you let her have this meeting in the first place?"

"I thought that she might figure out the truth about Logan. I thought I might figure it out. I can't shake this feeling. It's not a bad one, per se, but he's just not boyfriend material."

"Is it possible that after you married me your radar isn't as effective as it used to be?"

She smiled, "Maybe..." and kissed him lovingly from where she stood at the foot of the stairs.

Maggie glanced over, embarrassed to see the scene between her parents and hoped that no one else noticed, but they were all too engrossed in the readings.

The meeting ended and Maggie was able to get Logan alone to talk to him. Fran was showing people out when a woman appeared in the doorway.

"Hi, is Logan here?" the woman asked politely.

"Um, yes. May I tell him who's calling for him?"

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry. I'm his wife, Caitlyn." She held out her hand to shake Fran's and it took all of Fran's energy to hide the surprised expression on her face.

"One moment, I'll go get him."

She found Logan and Maggie in the living room. "Logan, your ride is here."

He looked up. "Great." He turned to Margaret. 'Maggie, there's someone I want you to meet."

He led her to the foyer where Caitlyn was waiting. "Cait, this is Margaret. Maggie, this is my wife Caitlyn." He put his arm around his wife. "This is the kid I've been telling you about. She's got a real ear for poetry." He turned to leave. "See you next week, Maggs?"

She nodded, the devastated expression on her face visible only to Fran.

Maggie shut the door and collapsed on the living room couch. Fran sat down next to her. "You knew, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't. Normally I would have known that he was married in an instant, but I guess now that I'm married to your father I've lost that skill." She smiled halfheartedly.

"A lot of good that does me." Soon all her friends were going to find out that she had a crush on a happily married man.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. But believe me, it won't be the first time that Mr. Right has a Mrs. close by." She hugged her stepdaughter and began to clean up the mess from the living room.

All was quiet except for the phone, which had begun to ring.

Niles walked in and handed her the cordless. "Master Brighton on the telephone for you."

She put the phone to her ear. "B? What's up?" She could here the background noise of a cellular phone in the receiver. "B? Where are you?"

"Uh, Fran. I, uh..." She could tell he was having a hard time talking, as if something were seriously wrong.

"B, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm fine. The Porsche is a little dented, though. I need you to come help me, the police are here and they need some information."

"Sure, B, I'll be right there." He gave her his location and she hung up the phone. "I'll be back," she told Maggie. "You brother's been in a fender bender and needs the insurance information for the cops."

Fran drove to meet Brighton, but when she arrived at the scene, what he had described as a few dents was in reality the complete destruction of his father's car. The adrenaline sluiced through her as she sprinted over to her stepson.

"B!? Are you alright?" But Brighton was obviously okay and no one seemed to be injured. It looked as if he had been crying. His friend Tim and two girls she had never seen before sat on the curb in front of the car as a police officer questioned them. Fran took in the damage. No other cars were involved, but the Porsche sat where a fire hydrant had apparently once stood. The water had been turned off but everything was soaked. The Porsche was practically unidentifiable, now a heap of red metal on the sidewalk. She watched as a flat bed truck positioned itself to clear the wreck from the crime scene.

"Brighton Millhouse Sheffield! What in the hell happened here!?" The panic began to well up insider her as the magnitude of what had happened began to sink in.

"Do you want the truth or the cleaned up version?"

Her look answered his question. "The truth. If I deem the details too vivid for your father to handle without him having a heart attack, then I'll want to hear your clean version. But right now, you owe me one hell of an explanation.

He began explaining how he and Tim had gone out and met two girls at a club. He let one of the girls drive, and, not realizing she had never driven before, watched her drive the car onto the sidewalk and into a fire hydrant.

"She told she knew how to drive. She said her father was a racer in NASCAR and that's where she learned how to drive a stick."

"And you believed her?? B? How could you be so irresponsible. I don't care if she was a driver in NASCAR. You were the only one who should be driving your father's car. When you went out tonight, I gave you permission to take the car out. I did not give anyone else that permission."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I swear it'll never happen again."

"You're damn straight it won't. When you're father's done with you you'll be lucky if you're still allowed to ride a bicycle!"

They finished up with the police and Fran and Brighton were able to go home. It was close to midnight when they finally got back to the house.

Maxwell had been working all evening trying to clear up some of the production details of his latest play.

"C.C., it's late. I know I'm going to be working on this all night, but you can go home. You don't have to stay here."

"It's okay, Maxwell, I work better at night anyway."

"She's right, sir. Bats do almost all of their work at night."

C.C. glared at him. "Ironic coming from someone who spends the whole night washing other people's underwear."

At that moment Fran knocked and entered the office. "Honey, I need to talk to you, it's really important."

Max could tell she was upset and ordered the others to clear the room. "C.C. please go home. We can finish up here in the morning."

Niles escorted her out. "You heard him. Now leave before I have to call the cops and have you physically removed!" Niles closed the door behind them.

Max sat Fran down on the sofa. He could tell that she was upset. "Darling, what is it? What's wrong?"

She told him the story of what had happened with Brighton and the car.

"HE DID WHAT!? "

"Now now, Maxwell, don't get too excited."

"Where is he!? Get him down here, now!"

"He went upstairs to bed. Look, we're all a little wound up. Let's just sleep on it and deal with it tomorrow."

"Absolutely not!" He stood up and stormed up to Brighton's room with Fran in tow.

Brighton was just climbing into bed when his father slammed open the door to his room. He was remarkably calm, a facade for the anger that was welling up inside him.

"Brighton, please tell me that you have a better explanation than what Fran told me for why my Porsche is now a crumpled wreck."

"What did Fran tell you?" Brighton asked nervously.

Max told him what Fran said about the accident.

"That sounds about right." Brighton cringed as he watched Fran try to calm his father down. Maggie and Grace had appeared in the doorway to see what the commotion was, but Fran sent them back to their rooms.

"Dad, I'm really sorry. It was a mistake and I'll never let it happen again."

"You're damn right it won't happen again, because first of all you're grounded for the next month. Second of all, the next car you ever get behind the wheel of will be bought with the money you earn on your own, working a steady job. I have been very successful in what I do and I have tried to give my children the best there is. But if you are not going to respect what I give you, then you are going to have to work for those things yourself. Hopefully you will have more respect for the things you have worked for, because you sure as hell haven't shown any respect for what I have given to you. Do you understand?"

Brighton nodded and the conversation was left at that. They left the boy in his room with his own thoughts and regrets and retired to their bedroom.

Fran could see that Maxwell was still mad and she was afraid he was going to attack her next for letting Brighton use the car. She decided to come clean.

"Maxwell, honey, you do know that it was me who said that Brighton could use the car, right?"

He laid on the bed and closed his eyes. "Fran, this wasn't your fault."

"I know, but if I had minded my place and told Brighton to ask you for permission to take the car, you would have said 'no' and none of this would have ever happened."

He sat up and looked at her. "What do you mean, 'minded your place'?"

"Well, the Porsche is your car. I had no right to give Brighton permission to take it."

"Fran, darling," he put an arm around her, "'your place' is right her next to me. When we got married we signed into an equal partnership. Everything of mine is yours, too, Fran. Including my kids . . .and my heart." He took her face in his palms and began to kiss her, the anger seeming to have melted away. An hour later they lay there together, and Maxwell played teasingly with her bare skin.

She smiled at him. "I don't know why I thought that after we got married things would calm down and maybe even become dull."

"What would ever make you think that?" he asked her, kissing the smile on her lips.

"I have no idea."

He grabbed her left hand and twirled the band on her ring finger. "You see this? This marks what's only the beginning of what I can only hope will be a semi-sedate life." But he knew otherwise. Life with Fran Fine was never sedate. Another day, another crisis.

The Nanny is a copyright of Sony Pictures, Tri-Star Television, High School Sweethearts, Sternin & Fraser's Ink, Inc. and CBS Television. No infringement on the rights of anyone involved in its production is intended.

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