A contented feeling moved through Anna as she sat up in bed and stretched. Linking her fingers high above her head, she arched her back and released a long, drawn out yawn.

She couldn't remember an evening she enjoyed more than the one spent with Brian. He had chuckled when she relayed the movie plot and the antics of the characters. It was the first time Anna had heard the sound of his laughter.

She dressed in jeans and a loose-fitting t-shirt. Some of the fish fillets had been left over, and she wanted to see if Long John would eat out of her hand. Great strides seemed to have been made with Brian, and she was eager to see if the injured gull was also any more willing to accept her as his friend.

"Good morning, L.J.," she greeted as she let herself into the yard. The gate latched behind her as she stepped to the food bowl and bent down extending her hand. "See what I've got here? Fish," she answered her own question in reassuring tones. "And I happen to know gulls are particularly fond of fish. I'm sure about fried fish, but I think you ought to give it a try."

With an ambling gait that reminded her of Charity Barnsworth, the bird took a step in her direction.

"Obviously you've got keen eyesight," Anna encouraged her feathered friend.

When the bird was only a few inches away, she edged closer, wanting him to take the fish from her. Almost immediately Anna realized her mistake. The razor-sharp beak sliced into the back of her hand instead of the food. Blood gushed from the open cut. Inhaling a sharp breath, she dropped the fish and jerked upright.

The gull had apparently sliced into a vein. THe pain was sharp as she quickly stepped back into the house.

Intent on escaping unseen into her bedroom, Anna nearly stumbled over Brian, who was wheeling down the wide hallway.

"Anna, why the rush?"

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, pressing her hand to her shirt. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"You're hurt."

Brian's pallor became sickly. He swallowed and narrowed his gaze on her hand.

"I'm fine."

"You need a doctor."

"What I need is to see how deep this cut is."

Stepping into her room, she moved directly to the bathroom sink and held her cut hand under the running water. In the background she could hear Brian yelling for Charity. Within moments, the red-faced cook came rushing into the room.

"I got cut. It's no major catastrophe. Darn, it looks like I may need to be sewn up." Angry at herself for her own stupidity, Anna felt like stamping her foot and yelling.

"I'll get Dennis to drive you to the hospital." With agitated, worried movements, Charity rushed out of the room.

Brian was gone, but she could hear him speaking to someone on the phone. His voice angry and upset. Footsteps could be heard rushing up the stairs.

"What happened?" Dennis directed the question to Anna.

"I got cut. It's my own stupid fault. But it looks like I'm going to need a few stitches. A vein's been sliced."

A pale Brian rolled his chair from his room. "Dr. Richardson is on his way."

"Dr. Richardson," Anna repeated, surprised. "You didn't call him, did you?" The whole situation was quickly becoming ridiculous, she thought. "You don't ask a noted surgeon to make a house call for a few stitches," she shouted sharply.

"Dennis," Brian shouted, no less calm, "get her into my room."

With a supportive hand under her elbow, Dennis led her into Brian's room.

"This is ridiculous," she hissed under her breath.

Brian wheeled in after her. "Sit her in my chair."

"I might get blood on it," she protested.

"For once, just once," Brian groaned out between clenched teeth, "will you do as I ask?"

Perching her mouth tightly shut, Anna plopped down in the expensive leather recliner. Dennis hovered over her and Brian rolled his chair back and forth across the room.

"For heaven's sake, you two look like you expect me to keel over dead any time." Her wit didn't please Brian, who tossed her a glare. "Look at you." She directed her words to Brian. "You're absolutely pale. Do you mean to tell me that after everything you've gone through you can't stand the sight of blood?"

"Shut up, Watson." The authority in his voice booked his resistance.

"Well, for heaven's sake, would you stop doing that. You're making me nervous."

"Doing what?"

"That." She pointed her finger at his chair. "You've got to be the only man in the world who paces in a wheelchair."

Dennis chuckled under his breath, and she tipped her head back and rolled her eyes. "How could you have called Dr. Richardson?" She asked, and groaned with embarrassment.

"You've lost a lot of blood." His voice pounded like thunder throughout the room.

"I'm fine," she nearly shouted, and bounded to her feet, stalking to the far side of the room.

"How'd it happen?" Dennis inserted, apparently in an attempt to cool tempers.

"It's my own stupid fault." She watched as Brian's hands tightened around the arms of his chair in a strangling hold. "I tried to get L.J. to eat out of my hand...."

"L.J.?" Brian asked.

"The sea gull I found."

"She named him Long John," Dennis explained with a trace of a laugh. "Rather appropriate I think."

"I didn't ask what you think." Brian said sarcastically. "I want that bird destroyed."

"No." Anna said, angrily. "You can't kill something because it was defending itself. I told you, it was my fault."

"I don't want that gull around," Brian shouted.

"Then I'll find someplace else."

Dennis moved to the center of the room. "Interestingly enough, I happened to read the other day that there aren't such things as sea gulls. Kittiwakes, black-backed gulls, and herring gulls, but technically there are no sea gulls."

Anna stared at him blankly until she recognized he was only doing this to separate her and Brian.

Charity could be heard fussing down the hall. "This way, Dr. Richardson."

Everyone's attention was focused on the door as the tall, dark-haired doctor entered the room.

"Dr. Richardson," Anna began, "I'm so embarrassed."

"Anyone who lets a stupid bird slash their hand in two deserves to be," Brian inserted dryly.

Anna shot him a warning glance.

"Now that I'm here, I might as well have a look at it." Professional and calm, Dr. Richardson set his black bag on the desk and hung his jacket over the back of the chair.

"And since you're here, it might do well to check Mr. Littrell. I'm sure he's due for an enema or something."

The good doctor chuckled as he removed the blood soaken towel from Anna's hand, as fresh blood released from the cut. "Nothing a couple of stitches won't cure," he murmured thoughtfully.

"I have most of the supplies in my room," she told him, and stood, leading the way.

"How's it going with Brian?" He asked as he worked. They'd only talked briefly once since she'd taken this assignment.

"I'm not sure," she answered honestly. "I'm beginning to think some progress is being made, but it's still too soon to tell."

"I don't know of anyone else who could reach him." He looked her in the eyes. "Have you told him yet?"

"No, but he'll see soon enough."

She watched as his dark head nodded in agreement. "If you have any problems, let me know."

"I will."

"And listen, it might not be a bad idea to keep this hand out of water for a few days."

She laughed softly. "Brian will love that."

"Speaking of the man, I meant to check him, since I"m here." He discarded the items he'd used and closed his bag. "I'll give you a call later in the week."

"Thanks, Kevin."

"I'm glad to be finally in your debt. You're the one who continues to save me." A good natured smile crossed his face, as he glanced down at his wedding ring. "You brought me an angel, and I'm forever in your debt." He looked up at her, "Go ahead and remove those stitches yourself in a week or so. Use your own best judgement."

Anna laid back against the pillows on her bed, and before she knew it, the afternoon had turned into evening.

A blanket had been laid over her, and she noticed it was one from Brian's room. How had he gotten in? The door to his room had been widened to accommodate his chair, but her's hadn't. A gentle breeze ruffled the closed drapes, and she realized the sliding doors had been left open.

Someone knocked softly on her bedroom door.

"Come in," Anna called out.

Charity opened the door and came in carrying a large tray. "I thought you might like something to eat."

"But you didn't need to bring it to me," Anna said. "I'm not incapacitated, you know."

"Mr. Littrell insisted that you take the rest of the day off. You rest and I'll bring your meals."

"But, Charity, that's ridiculous."

"Mr. Littrell was real worried about you. I can't remember a time he reacted like this."

Leaning against the pillows the cook had fluffed for her, Anna laughed. "For all his bark, our Mr. Littrell sure is a marshmallow. Did you see how pale he got when he saw the blood on my shirt? For a minute, I thought he would pass out."

Charity's look was thoughtful. "Mr. Littrell hasn't been the same since the accident. He doesn't like the sight of blood."

The humor disappeared from Anna's face. Of course the blood bothered him, since he'd lain helplessly in a pool of his own.