Taking a shower never felt better. It was almost forty-eight hours since that fake UPS girl went to my office to deliver that piece of volcanic rock; since that disaster at the restaurant where I was almost killed; since Ron was transformed into Ronnie.

I haven't had sleep since then, except for catnaps on the long highway drive to Tacoma. Boy, was I beat. Now we're here in a military outpost on the other side of the country, surrounded by giant mechanical aliens, with my car turned into a self-aware robot, and my friend Ron changed into an incredibly hot girl. A lot of stuff had certainly happened.

As I soaped up and washed away the dirt and grime of the past couple of days, and as the hot water soothed the stiffness, tiredness and soreness right out of my body, I couldn't stop thinking of Ron - the new Ron. Ronnie. I had just told her that I've been having a hard time trying not to jump her bones since I first saw her as a girl, and it was true. I couldn't stop wishing that she was beside me in the shower right now, and imagining she was the one soaping me down, and I was doing the same thing to her.

Ronnie and I had had to walk a little bit to another building to find some showers since the building we were in was designed mostly for the Autobots, and therefore didn't have many amenities for humans. We did have a small lavatory in our new room, but no shower.

Since this building was a fairly old one, the women’s showers it had were designed like old-fashioned communal showers - just shower heads in a bare, tiled room, almost like the men's gym showers I saw in movies - no privacy at all.

I wasn't shy at all about such things and didn't mind showering this way, but Ronnie, in her new girl's body, was extremely shy. She was turned away from me as she took her shower. I tried not to make her more uncomfortable and didn't look her way, but I couldn't help sneak frequent peeks. Even from the back, she was spectacular. She was so tall that her head was actually higher than the showerhead, and she had to stoop to wash her hair. Her tush was the best looking one I've ever seen, her wet hair flowing across her back and almost touching the tops of her asscheecks. I was so distracted I had a hard time paying attention to my own shower. She was so hot.

A few minutes later, she was almost done. I hurried through my own shower and we finished at the same time. Once done, I patted myself down and rubbed my hair as dry as I could. I then wrapped my torso in the spare towel I brought and turned around.

Ron had finished drying as well, and she mimicked me, wrapping herself in a towel, too, even though she didn't quite know how. (I couldn't help notice that the towel was too small for her - the bottom edge barely covered her crotch. Ohmigod...)

"Here," I said, and approached her. I tucked in the corner of her towel properly so it wouldn't fall off. "There!"

By accident, my hand brushed her long hair, and I noticed it wasn't wet. I took a handful of the soft, silver-gold locks to confirm, and her hair was indeed dry.

"You didn't wash your hair?" I asked, even though I saw she did.

"I did," she responded. "I even used the shampoo you gave. Why?"

I sniffed her hair and smelled my shampoo. So she did wash it. "Well, you hair is completely dry now."

"I guess they have pretty absorbent towels here."

I shrugged the matter away and took her hand. "C'mon, let's get dressed." We walked over to the adjacent locker area and started to get dressed.

With my back turned, I put on my fresh underwear, slipped on the yoga pants and long-sleeved cotton Henley I picked from what I had in my overnighter, and slipped on the brand-new sneakers that I bought a few weeks ago and kept in the trunk. I was not in the least bit embarrassed that Ronnie was around. Actually, I was showing off a bit - I felt like a naughty little exhibitionist. I combed my hair free of snags, clipped it back into a high ponytail and turned to Ronnie.

Ronnie was almost done dressing as well. She had the sweatpants and panties on but she had to make do with the flop-flops again since the shoes they left her were too small. She had the bra on but she hadn't hooked it up in the back yet.

"Susan, can you help me with this?" she asked plaintively. "I can't reach behind me." She was blushing furiously.

I made an effort not to giggle and made her sit down so I could reach. I extended the straps and adjusted them as best I could. When it was the best fit I could make it, I tried using the last pair of hooks and hooked up the bra.

"Okay," I said, "turn around and let's see how they fit you."

She stood and turned. The band fit but the straps were clearly cutting into her shoulders, and the cups were definitely too small.

"Susan," Ronnie said, "I haven't worn bras before, but these really feel very uncomfortable..." She was almost beet red from embarrassment.

"No wonder," I said. "Those are clearly too small for you. Better take 'em off, Ronnie. I'm afraid you have to go bra-less until we can get you a pair in the right size."

She looked at me and I had to shrug as if to say, "it's up to you, girl."

She looked down at the tile floor, and after a bit, she shrugged out of the bra. She grabbed the crew tee and slipped it on fast. Poor Ronnie. She really was trying.

She stood up and held the bra out to me. I took it but couldn't take my eyes off her. The tee was a little too small for her as well, and was so tight it was like it was a painted-on baby tee. I gulped. Her bra-less condition was obvious and my eyes were almost falling out of their sockets as I took in her sexiness.

I shook myself out of it. To distract myself from my not-so-innocent thoughts, I made her sit down, brought out my brush and started brushing her hair. I found her hair quite fine but very thick and full, and, surprisingly, her hair combed out real easily, with nary a tangle. I clipped her hair back at the temples with the barrettes I lent her before, and pulled her up. I held my hand out to her and, with Ron carrying all our stuff, we walked back to our room in the other building.

Betty was patiently waiting, and I gave her a pat on her bonnet when we got in.

"Hey, Betty," I said.

"Did you and the captain have a good shower, Ms. Susan?" Betty said.

"Very refreshing, Betty, thank you."

"Perceptor gave me the remote control frequency for the room. Just let me know if you want the lights dimmed or the air-conditioning turned up."

I laid my cheek against her driver-side window in lieu of a hug.

"Thank you, dear."

I went to my overnighter again, rummaged through it and found my little traveling sewing kit, a pad and a pen.

"Listen," I said to Ron, "I think we need to get your measurements and get you some proper clothes. You can't keep on wearing..." I gestured at her outfit.

Ron looked down at herself. She looked back at me and nodded emphatically. I giggled.

"Stand up?"

Ron obliged and I used the tape measure from my sewing kit to get her measurements (I made an effort to keep things totally platonic, of course) - which included her height, shoulder width, neck size and height, arm length (elbow to wrist and shoulder to wrist), chest and bra size, inseam, torso length (from the base of the neck to the base of the spine), pant length (base of the spine to the pants' cuff), rise length (from the middle of the back, over the crotch and to the bellybutton), crotch depth (from the seat to the waist while sitting down), waist, hips, thighs, leg, calf and thigh length, foot size, shoulder-to-floor and all the other essentials for picking out ready-to-wear stuff as well as custom-tailored bespoke clothes. I knew my obsession for clothes would come in handy eventually. She blushed as I took her measurements, and more so when I measured her rise length, crotch depth and other things. Several times I had to ask her to sit so I could properly take shoulder, neck, arm measurements et cetera. She is awfully tall for a girl. Actually, she is awfully tall even for a guy.

"You're very good at this," Ronnie said.

"Occupational hazard for people who work in TV," I said. "It comes from needing to look good all the time." That sounded plausible and made me sound not at all obsessive...

I looked over the figures I've been jotting down. "So, here's what I got - you're six feet nine inches tall exactly, your measurements are 47-30-47, a 40G bra, and your shoe size is a ladies' size eighteen. I also got other measurements to help in picking out dresses." I didn't bother to tell her what the other measurements were anymore, since they were really only useful to a dressmaker or a tailor.

"Ummm, are my measurements okay?"

I giggled.

"I mean," Ron said, "Aren't 40G boobs and size eighteen shoes pretty big?"

I giggled again. "Well, yes, I suppose so. But you ARE a six-foot-nine girl. I know no other girl as tall as you."

But her question did start me asking the same thing. 40G's ARE pretty big. Gigantic, actually.

"Lemme do some math here," I said.

Using the pen and paper in my hand, I started calculating. Let's see... if Ron had 34" hips instead of 47"... 47 is about 1.38 times larger than 34... So assume the same thing for everything else... that gives her a waist that's 22" and...

"What're you doing, Susan?" Ron asked.

"Hold on, dear, I'm almost done."

"Susan?"

"There," I said in satisfaction. "Assuming you weren't as big as you are now, say, you had 34" hips instead of 47", and we cut all your sizes down by the same ratio, you'd be about 5'7", with a 34-22-34 figure, 30D boobies and size eight shoes."

Her eyes went all big and round. "Wow..."

I giggled again. She clearly didn't know how spectacular her measurements were, and it took this small math exercise to bring it home. "Given your height," I said, "your measurements are perfect. Supermodel-perfect, in fact, except for your stripper-sized boobies, heehee. And your feet are quite appropriate for your height. Lemme call a friend and see if she can set you up with some clothes."

While Ronnie got ready for bed, I stepped out of the room and gave my friend Pat, who works for one of the fashion houses in New York, a call. It was just a little before eight in the morning there, and I caught her in the middle of her commute.

She was my unofficial fashion consultant and buyer that my network had put on retainer for me as well as for some of the other TV people I worked with, and I relayed to her my problem.

"Well, going by her measurements," Pat said, "she sounds like one incredible-looking lady. But it'll be difficult to shop for her. I don't even know where to find 40G bras!"

"Oh!" I exclaimed, "I forgot to mention that she's a platinum-blonde with hair down to her butt, and extremely fair, a heart-shaped face, big blue eyes and a cute nose. Extremely gorgeous." I giggled. Worried that she overheard me, and that she might be embarrassed, I looked back to Ronnie, but she was already in bed and it looked like she was already asleep. Thank goodness.

"Good grief! Well, that is something else," Pat said.

"Anything else you need? More measurements?"

"Well, I have everything I need for now, I think. But one of these days, she'll have to come in for a proper fitting. Anything in particular I should watch for?"

"Well, like I said, she lost all her luggage, so she'll need everything - underwear, et cetera - the works. Let's play it safe and set her up with enough outfits for maybe a couple of weeks or so. A couple of sophisticated outfits - high-end fashionista-type stuff, but the rest being chic but casual and serviceable, maybe a dozen outfits."

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Pat whistled. "Couture and casual? For a couple of weeks? It's like you're creating a whole wardrobe for her from scratch. AND in her size! That'll be expensive, Suzy darlin'... Makeup?" she said.

"Sure, makeup. Perfume, too. But put in a bunch of samplers so we can allow her to pick a scent of her own. Accessories and jewelry as well. Nothing real, of course but tasteful accessories and costume jewelry from your stash of replicas. I know, I know, but I don't mind - I'm not exactly poor. Put it on my personal account,'kay? Don't put it on the station's account. And be sure to include lots of casual stuff like I said, and I think she'd like a lot of pants as well, and maybe some good walking shoes, too. And some jeans and sneakers. But keep all of it high-end and tasteful."

Pat sighed. "Colors?"

"I trust you - I'll leave it up to you. Oh! Her eyes are bright, pale crystal blue, a very light shade, like they're glass, almost glowing. So make sure you complement that?"

"Wow. Okay. When do you need the stuff?"

I bit my lip. "Today?"

"Susannn..."

"I know, I know! But it's an emergency, Pat. Ronnie's making do with crew-neck tees and jogging pants that are way too small for her. Please?"

Pat sighed. "Okay. I just arrived at the office, actually, so I can go over to the stockroom now and pick her up half a dozen outfits to tide her over for a week, if I can get any that're even remotely close to her measurements. Sonya's available for alterations, which, believe me, will be necessary. And I'll get the rest to you later. If I can find 'em in her sizes, like I said, so no guarantees. What's Ronnie's full name so I can put it on the shipping tag?"

"That's Detective Ronnie C. McKenzie, Metro PD. I'll get you the address to send it all to in a little bit."

"Okay. So that's R.C. McKenzie, Metropolitan Police Department? Charge to you?"

"Yes."

"'Kay. I'll wait for your text for the address. With her measurements, Suze, it'll be tough. And expensive."

"That's okay, Pat. I'm not poor. Do what you can. I trust you. Byeee..."

I hung up and called my department's executive assistant. I told Bonnie I was taking an emergency leave for a few weeks, and to get together a portable one-man remote kit - the smallest rig they had, with lots of spare power packs, chargers, and lots of biiig memory cards. I told her to get a dozen outfits of mine together, and that I would contact her later and tell her where to send all of the stuff.

"Ohhh," Bonnie said, knowingly, assuming that I was on one of those secret trips as I chased one of my stories. "One of those 'emergency leaves,'" she giggled. "Are you aiming for another Emmy, Susan?"

I giggled with her, letting her think that. It was a good cover, and the highest ups wouldn't be the least bit suspicious.

"Just do it, okay?" And I hung up. The advantage of being the boss... I brought out the little white iPhone I was given before, dialed Sergeant Boone's number, and hoped he would answer.

After a couple of rings, Sergeant Boone answered, voice crisp and clear.

"Good morning, Ms. Blu, this is Sergeant Boone. How may I help you?"

I giggled. "Don't you ever sleep, Sergeant Boone?"

"I try to get six hours a day if I can," he said wryly.

"What's your first name, anyway, Sergeant Boone?"

"It's Darryl, Ma’am."

"Okay, Darryl. Please call me Susan."

"Thank you, Ma’am."

I sighed in exasperation and laughed a little. "Okay, Darryl. Have it your way. Anyway, the reason I am interrupting your sleep is because I need some help. I am having some stuff shipped over here, and I don't know how to go about it."

"What is it you're shipping over, ummm, Susan?"

"It's a little embarrassing, actually, Darryl. I'm actually having some clothes shipped over for Ronnie and I. Plus some camera equipment for me."

Darryl was silent for a while. "Ummm, was there a problem with the clothes I left for Mizz McKenzie?"

"Oh, Darryl, we really appreciate the effort, but I'm afraid they were in the wrong sizes."

"Oh, no!"

"That's okay, Darryl. Anyway, I'm having some stuff delivered. Hope that's all right."

"I'll take care of it right away, Ma’am."

I gave him Pat and Bonnie's contact information, and he said he'll take care of everything.

"Ummm, Susan?" Darryl said hesitantly. "Is it all right if I get Captain McKenzie's measurements? I'd like to replace the stuff I left with the correct ones."

"That's so kind of you, Darryl," I giggled, and relayed to him Ronnie's new sizes, at least the basics. Darryl whistled.

"Tell me about it," I said.

"Ma’am, one of the girls here used to be a seamstress. I think she can help."

"She can?" I exclaimed happily, and gave him all of the other measurements I took. "I am sure that will help," I said.

He dutifully noted the info down, said goodbye and hung up. He was so obvious I had to smile.

I turned off the iPhone and put it away. No need to call Bonnie or Pat anymore, but I did text them that someone from the army named Darryl Boone will be contacting them. Before going to bed, I gave Betty a pat on her bonnet and said good night. I went over to Ronnie. She had the covers over her chest, and was sleeping soundly. I couldn't help it - I leaned down and gave her a kiss on her cheek. I could clearly smell my shampoo and soap, but other than that, I smelled her own unique scent, which was like a mix of strawberries, cream, baby powder, musk, and a unique scent that was all her. The mix of scents was very subtle, actually, but unmistakable. I breathed it in, sighed, gave her another kiss, and went to sleep.

I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Several hours later, I found myself being gently shaken awake by the shoulder.

"Hey, Suzy-baby," A gentle feminine voice said. "Wake up."

I opened my eyes and was greeted by Ronnie's beautiful, smiling face floating over me.

"Hello, my love," I said sleepily, and her face lit up like the morning sun.

"Hey there, Suzy-baby," she said.

I gave her a small kiss on the lips and sat up.

"What time is it?" I asked and stretched.

"Twelve noon, I think." She handed me a sealed envelope. It had the name "Susan" on it.

It was from Pat. In it, she said she was amazed that barely an hour after my call, a bunch of soldiers came by to pick up my order, so she hurried up and got together everything. She had trouble finding the stuff I asked for, though, but she was able to get some, and had them altered in time. She was extremely curious about what I was doing, and asked if she could meet Ronnie, but she said she'd just wait for me to tell her when I was ready. Good old Pat. I knew I could count on her, and her discretion.

There was another note, this time from Bonnie, and my travel suitcase from my office.

I finished reading and looked up at Ronnie. She seemed totally wide-awake, hair well combed, and she was dressed casually in a crisp, white, long-sleeved button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up (and I could tell she was wearing a bra, too), tucked into straight-cut blue jeans, and tennis shoes. Casual and totally gorgeous.

"Look!" Ronnie said, and did a little pirouette in front of me.

"You look good, Ronnie."

Ronnie smiled. "Sergeant Boone got me new clothes, and they all fit this time." She giggled.

"What?"

"I managed to put my bra on all by myself, too," she grinned and giggled again.

I giggled, too. "Well, good for you. Does it fit better?"

"Yes. Sergeant Boone did a good job with the sizes. He said that he had to get some of the other clothes in unisex styles, though."

I got up, gave her another kiss, got some fresh clothes for myself, gave Betty a good morning kiss on her hood, and went to the lavatory in the adjoining room. No shower but that was okay - I'd just had a shower a few hours ago, after all.

After my morning routine, I went back and found Ronnie surrounded by soldiers. She was easy to spot - she stood at least a head taller than anyone in there. I shouldered my way through the admiring throng and stood by Ronnie. I huffed and shooed the men out. I wondered at my actions - I was acting like some overprotective, jealous girlfriend.

Darryl stayed, along with several cardboard boxes and a black transport case - the kind used to ship electronic equipment. Darryl pointed out the boxes. "We had crews at the locations you gave," he said, "and as soon as the stuff was ready, we had them shipped via priority military transport. They arrived a while ago.

"I'm sorry about the camera equipment, Susan," Darryl said. "Perceptor had to go through them and make slight modifications, to insure against tapping and unauthorized transmission."

I was expecting that so it wasn't that big of a deal.

"How about the other ones," I said, pointing at several cardboard boxes.

"Oh, Perceptor said they're safe. Clothes, I take it?"

"And other things that are close to a girl's heart," I giggled.

"Well, I wouldn't know anything about that. But there sure are a lot of them."

"What? This? This is just barely enough clothes for a week!"

"Well, whatever," he grinned and tipped a nonexistent hat to me. He turned to Ronnie. "Captain McKenzie - just give me a call if you need anything. Anything at all." He gave Ronnie a snappy salute. I had to hide my smile - Darryl was so obvious.

Ronnie took it seriously and answered in kind. "Thank you, Sergeant," she responded crisply.

"Chow's available at the mess in the next building, anytime you ladies want, Ma’am, although lunch service ends at fourteen hundred."

"We'll be there before then. Thank you."

"There's a meeting at fourteen-thirty. It's happening in the encounter arena, where you first met Ultra Magnus. The base commander has requested that you and Ms. Blu attend. The Secretary of Defense is going to be there as well and...," he looked Ronnie up and down. Later on I found out that, per military protocol, everyone had to be in dress blues.

Ron looked at him worriedly. "I take it..."

"Yes, Ma'am. Someone will be dropping off your uniforms later, in the proper sizes, I might add." He grinned.

"What's the meeting going to be about, Darryl?" I asked.

"I think it has something to do with that... entity you two encountered, Susan. Everyone in Cyber Command has heard about it. But that's just rumor - I don't really know."

"All right."

"Oh! Before I forget, Major Lennox wanted to make sure the captain got this." He handed Ronnie a couple of boxes the size of cigarette cartons. He saluted again and left.

Ronnie opened the boxes, and I saw what looked like little medals, Velcro-type patches and what I think military people call shoulder boards, each in their own little cellophane-covered package. She looked at them for a while. Eventually, she shook her head in some gesture of acceptance, picked out two of the pins, pinned them to her collar.

She handed me something. It was a round pin that looked like a blue-and-gold globe. Later, I would find that this was the insignia of the US military's semi-secret Cyber Command.

I thought it pretty, and aping Ron, I pinned it to my collar. "Thought you might like that," she smiled.

Ronnie put the boxes under her pillow, took my arm, and escorted me to the officers' mess hall. The mess was a fairly nondescript cafeteria-type place, and was deserted except for a few people in uniform having some last-minute chow. The food was okay, but Ronnie's company was better, although Ronnie wolfing down her food like a lumberjack, and getting at least four servings of everything detracted from it a little bit. Far from being turned off, however, I found it amazing that she could pack away so much food, and it still was funny. Ronnie smiled and allowed me to wipe her mouth. She told me her appetite seemed to be going down already.

"Sure," I smirked.

I tried not to be too obvious, but I think Ronnie could tell how I felt. I felt like such a hypocrite - I had told her before that I didn't have any feelings for her, but that was before she changed. And now that Ron is Ronnie...

It couldn't be that it was just because Ronnie was such a gorgeous girl (in fact, I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world). I don't think I'm that shallow. I just think that, when Ronnie was still a guy, I already had feelings for him. It was just that he wasn't a woman then, and I wasn't acknowledging it. And now that she's a woman, subconsciously I probably felt safe to acknowledge it, and her. And it doesn't hurt that she is so beautiful now. Heehee... listen to me - I sound just like my therapist.

Speaking of which, Ronnie was unfortunately someone I couldn't tell my therapist about, nor anyone else for that matter. Not to mention everything else I now knew about Autobots, Decepticons, Cybertron and all that. Ultra Magnus and General Hawk, the base commander, made that abundantly clear to Ronnie and me. Ronnie took all this top-secret stuff as if they were matter-of-fact and nothing out of the ordinary - that keeping secrets was okay. This was totally against my journalistic sensibilities. But, to be a credit to Ronnie, I agreed as well. Besides, even though I was a newsperson, I was cognizant of the larger issues here, and understood the need for secrecy for the sake of the greater good. Despite that, the general's aide still made me sign what amounted to a sort of nondisclosure agreement.

Ronnie and I talked a bit about what happened, and we went over everything we remembered, so in case we were asked by the Secretary of Defense or the President or something, we wouldn't miss any details. Between the both of us, she seemed to be the one with the better recall, recalling everything in minute detail: aside from turning into a girl, her memory seemed to have been improved as well. I told Ronnie I was prepared to tell the whole truth. She nodded at that in appreciation.

Seeing us two hot civilians on our own, some junior lieutenants came over to chat, but when they saw the little pins Ronnie had on her collar, they became stand-offish, started calling her Ma'am or Captain, and left right away.

I giggled - men are so one-track-minded. I saw Ronnie's somewhat nonplussed look. "She'll be okay," I thought, "once she realizes the impact she now has on others."

We finished up and headed to our room. When we got there, there was a wardrobe bag and a shoebox on Ronnie's bed, as well as a paper-wrapped bundle.

On the wardrobe bag was a tag that said "RC McKenzie, Captain - US Marine Corps, Fort Lewis Cyber Command."

Ronnie didn't move and just looked at the stuff on her bed. After a while, I saw the tears on her face.

"Ron?" I asked. I went to her and held her hand. "It's just a uniform, honey. You don't have to wear it."

She looked at me and smiled through her tears. It broke my heart. I reached up and hugged her.

"You're still you," I whispered to her. "You didn't lose anything. You might look a little different, but you're still you." I gave her a kiss on her cheek.

A little army sergeant knocked on the jamb of the open extra-large door of our room, and cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Captain," she said.

Both of us straightened up. I handed Ronnie a couple of tissues to blow her nose and wipe her eyes.

"Yes, sergeant?" Ronnie said.

She saluted. "I'm from the Supply Office, Ma'am. I have some stuff for you, which includes a couple of extra sets of uniforms, some battle fatigues and flak stuff, plus boots, pumps and several packs of sundries."

Ronnie nodded and the sergeant pushed in a small cart with all the stuff she mentioned. She went straight to the wardrobe-slash-locker inside the room (which I hadn't looked in yet) and started hanging up the stuff she brought, or just putting them inside.

"Captain?" she asked quietly as she hung up Ronnie's new clothes. "Would you need assistance in... getting dressed? I was told you have a meeting with the Secretary of Defense, and... well, dress blues, you know..."

I went to Ronnie. "Go ahead, Ronnie, she means well, and you do need the help."

Ronnie nodded. "Thank you, sergeant. If you don't mind..."

"Not at all, Ma’am."

After hanging Ronnie's uniforms in the locker, she went straight to Ronnie's bed and unzipped the wardrobe bag.

"What's your name, dear?" I asked.

"Arlene, Ma’am."

“Hi, Arlene. I’m Susan.”

“Good afternoon, Ma’am,” she said, and we shook hands. She turned to Ronnie. “I think this is everything, Ma’am,” she said, and proffered a long-sleeved white blouse and a navy blue dress coat.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Ronnie said, but didn’t make a move to take the clothes.

“Ma’am,” Arlene said quietly, almost gently. “We heard what you went through…”

“You did?”

She nodded. “Yes, Ma’am. Some of the guys in my unit were helping the scientist types yesterday, and they saw the videos of you. We’re sorry for what you had to go through, and we would like to help. I asked Sergeant Boone if I could bring your clothes myself so I could help you if you needed it." She hesitated a little bit, probably thinking that it might not be her place, but she reached out to take Ronnie's hand. "We take care of our own, Ma'am."

Ronnie became teary eyed again. “Thanks…”

I reached up and gave Ronnie a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll just be outside, Ronnie,” I said, thinking that she might not want to undress in front of me. I got a bunch of my clothes and gestured to Betty. “C’mon, Betty. Let’s leave Arlene alone with Ronnie so she help her get ready.”

I turned and gave Arlene a hug, and Betty and I left the room, closing the oversized door.