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Part 2
Xavionite
Chapter 6
Author’s Note: Have you ever had a chapter just write itself? That’s what happened with much of this chapter — in particular the scenes with DJ and Winnie Canfield. Winnie jumped into the story one morning while I was traveling, getting ready for a day of driving. I couldn’t write most of the day, so the scenes just had to take shape in my head (my daughter can attest that I was not much of a conversationalist that day)… when I finally reached my parents’ house, I gave quick hugs and immediately went to the guest room to write it all down before it vanished! I’m very pleased with the results.
DJ DeSoto is one of my favorite characters for writing deep third POV. If anyone wants to know more about this youngest DeSoto child, you’ll find the story of his birth in my story, Ups and Downs. He also has a few scenes in Stirring the Ashes of Memory.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
DJ DeSoto was having a bad day. In fact, it was so bad it made the seven year old think of his new favorite book, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. His teacher read it in school and he liked it so much he got his Mama to buy a copy for him at the bookstore.
But his day was lots worse than Alexander’s. He didn’t get gum in his hair or trip on a skateboard or go to the dentist, but his Daddy and his Mama were gone and he wanted them both home! Instead he was stuck with that mean girl Franny Davis from across the street, but she was watching her soaps and told him to be a good boy and go play in his room till time for supper. And he just got home from school, so supper was still a long time away. He wished Chris and Megan were home, but Mama said they were goin’ home with friends after school again and wouldn’t be back till tomorrow.
Mama said Daddy was sick, but DJ was pretty sure it was worse than that because Daddy went to work one day and then didn’t come home and Megan started crying and pulled Chris into her room and shut the door and wouldn’t let DJ in, and Aunt Nita came over and sat with Mama on the sofa and hugged her and they cried together and then Mama asked Nita please to stay with the kids while she went to the hospital. The hospital was where people went when they were real sick or hurt bad and needed a doctor to fix them up.
DJ kinda remembered bein’ in the hospital when the doctor fixed his heart, but that was a long time ago. Anyway, Daddy must need lotsa fixing up because Mama was gone most of the time now and when she did come home she looked kinda sad and kinda scared and lotsa tired. And now Aunt Nita was gone too and Franny was here and that made DJ want to growl like a very angry little bear.
Franny could be nice enough when grown-ups were around, but when they weren’t, she wrinkled her nose at DJ and sometimes she called him the R word that made Mama mad when she heard it. DJ wasn’t exactly sure what the R word meant but he knew it was what people said when they thought he was not good enough because he had Down Syndrome, so he didn’t like hearing it either. But Mama said people who talked that way didn’t know any better and they could learn from DJ that kids like him were actually just like any other kids, even if some things were a little harder for them.
Sometimes when he came home from school crying because another kid was mean to him, Mama held him and cuddled him and told him, “God made you just right,” and he believed Mama because she knew him better than anybody.
Plopping a thumb securely in his mouth, DJ patted on the fire truck Daddy gave him for his birthday, then grabbed his favorite patched and faded teddy bear — he called it Taco — and climbed up on his bed for a cuddle. Taco was DJ’s best friend and a good listener and he never said, “Take that thumb out of your mouth DJ DeSoto and speak up so I can understand you!”
“Daddy’s hurt, Taco,” DJ said sadly. “An’ I can’t go see him, ‘cause no one will take me.”
Taco just stared back at him with his two black eyes. He couldn’t talk, of course, but sometimes DJ would talk for him so they could have a conversation. He held Taco up and pursed his lips to make his very best bear voice. “Then take yourself. You remember when Unca Johnny was in the hospital and Daddy took you to see him. You can find it.”
“But I’m not s’pposed to cross the street by myself! That’s the rule!”
He let Taco think for a minute before responding almost in a whisper. “But this is a ‘mergency. Sometimes in a ‘mergency rules are diff’rent.”
He kissed his bear on the head, then jumped down from the bed and grabbed his Mickey Mouse backpack. He stuffed his favorite old blanky in the backpack, then got his camping whistle from his sock drawer and hung the lanyard around his neck. A whistle was important when you went walking because if you got in trouble you could blow on it and someone would find you. Uncle Johnny taught him that.
He could still hear the TV blaring from the living room when he stood at the top of the stairs. Franny wouldn’t see him, because the living room was around a corner and down a couple of steps after you went down the stairs. He knew he could open the door real quiet and slip outside without her hearing, because she had the TV on real loud and Gus Pup wouldn’t give him away because Gus Pup was in Heaven now.
Squeezing Taco close to his chest, DJ tiptoed down the stairs. He was super careful, holding tight to the rail with one hand. The stairs kind of scared him because he fell down them once and broke his arm, but he figured if Daddy could run into buildings on fire, he could be brave enough to go on the stairs by himself.
He turned the door handle real slow and eased the door open, then slipped outside and pulled it shut again behind him. Then he stood on the front stoop and thought for a minute, holding his hands out in front of him. He was pretty sure when Uncle Johnny was in the hospital and they visited him, after DJ got over his chicky pox, Daddy turned the car the way that went with the hand he used for coloring, so he strode down the driveway and turned left on the sidewalk, proud of himself for making a successful escape.
“DJ DeSoto, what do you think you’re doin’, young man?!” The voice made him a little happy and a little sad at the same time. Happy because he loved the person the voice went with, but sad because he knew he was busted. With a little sigh, he turned around and looked up into the kindly face of Mrs. Canfield, standing in the middle of her garden.
Mrs. Canfield was one of DJ’s favorite people in the whole world. She lived next door and was plump and soft and good for snuggling, and she had a wrinkly brown face and dark eyes that sparkled when she saw him and ropy white hair that she wore up in a bun and she made the very best cookies in the entire world — even better than Mama’s. Best of all, Mrs. Canfield never talked to DJ like he wasn’t good enough or didn’t matter. DJ didn’t have a grandma because both of his were in Heaven, but he figured Mrs. Canfield was the next best thing. He gave her a sheepish grin.
“I’m goin’ to th’ hopsital,” he said, trying to sound as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “I’m goin’ to see my Daddy.”
Mrs. Canfield crossed her arms and frowned. “That’s an awful long walk, even for a boy as big as you,” she said after bein’ real quiet for a moment. “I think you need a couple of cookies first, and maybe a glass of milk, to give you strength for the road.”
DJ puckered up his forehead. He wanted to get to Daddy, but Mrs. Canfield’s cookies were awful good and he sure wouldn’t want to miss out. He thought hard, then gave a nod. He was real hungry. And Mrs. Canfield’s house was one Mama didn’t mind him visiting — she was safe. “OK,” he said. “But just a few minutes. Daddy needs me.”
“Come on in, then.” And Mrs. Canfield reached down and grasped his small hand in her big one and walked him into her little blue house.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Winifred Canfield set a plate of cookies and a plastic cup full of milk in front of DJ. “Now, you eat that up.” She slid into a chair across from him and took one cookie for herself. “Tell me, DJ, is your Mama home?”
“No,” he mumbled. “Franny’s there.” Bless the child, if his mouth wasn’t already crammed full of cookie, and a smear of chocolate now connected a couple of his freckles like one of those dot pictures her grandson liked. She handed him a napkin and he scrubbed at his face, but only managed to spread the chocolate around.
“Franny’s watchin’ out for you, then? Does she know you went out?”
He shook his head. “She’s watchin’ soaps… called me a mean word an’ tol’ me go play in my room till supper.” He grabbed another cookie off the plate and took a bite.
Winnie felt her heart breaking in two at DJ’s words. Miss Franny Davis sure was going to get a piece of her mind next chance she got! But that would wait for later. Her priority sat here across from her, with crumbs on his chin. “And so you decided you would go visit your Daddy instead?”
DJ nodded solemnly, his big green eyes gazing at her over his cup of milk. Winifred near melted at the sight. She loved this boy as if he were her own. She wrapped her fingers around his and gave a comforting squeeze. “DJ, does Franny call you mean words a lot?” She could see the hurt welling up in the little one’s eyes as he nodded. He wasn’t one for making up stories, and that Franny Davis had always been something of a female Eddie Haskell in her opinion, so she didn’t hesitate to believe what DJ said — and she could imagine just what sort of words the Davis girl had used.
“I’m sorry she does that, DJ. She’s wrong, you know. God made you with all the special gifts you need to help you do good things in this world. And I’ll tell you, you are a lot smarter than Franny about lots of things, even though you’re 7 and she’s 15. I mean the real important things, like lovin’ people an’ takin’ care of folks an’ shinin’ a bright light in a dark world.”
She got up to carry his milk glass to the fridge and refill it, then brought it back to him. “Now you tell me somethin’, DJ… if your Mama says it’s ok, would you be willin’ to come stay with this lonely ol’ lady after school while your Daddy’s laid up? I’m thinkin’ I’d like some company and my own grandboy lives awful far away.”
His eyes got real big when she asked that and he grinned. She smiled back, then handed him another napkin.
He wiped his face and swallowed the mouthful he’d just taken, then answered. “Yeah, I would like that lots. But…” And now he frowned again. “I gotta go see my Daddy first.”
Winnie sighed internally. She had hoped her suggestion would be enough to make him forget that idea. “Well,” she said, considering her words carefully. She needed to keep him here, but she didn’t want to make him feel bad for what he’d done. Yes, he had broken the rules and taken a big risk with his little jaunt to Rampart, but he was doing it out of love and that should be recognized. His mama could talk to him about that later. “You have some more cookies and I’ll be back in a minute — I think I hear ol’ Cattywampus goin’ on about somethin’. He’s been mighty cantankerous lately. Now don’t you sneak out that door without givin’ me a hug goodbye, you hear?”
“I won’t,” he mumbled through another mouthful.
She hadn’t really heard her old calico cat — she knew Cattywampus was sound asleep on the double wedding ring quilt she kept on the guest bed. But she didn’t want to upset DJ with what she had to do. She went to her bedroom and pulled out the phone book from the shelf under her bedside table to look up the number for Rampart Hospital. Sure and certain, that’s where JoAnne DeSoto could be found. She dialed the number, then waited for someone to pick up.
“Hello. This is Winifred Canfield. I am calling for JoAnne DeSoto — her husband Roy is a patient in the ICU…. I’m her neighbor. Her son is at my house at the moment. Thank you, yes… I can wait.”
The call was transferred to the ICU and then a nurse asked her to hold and finally JoAnne’s voice came over the wires.
“Hello, JoAnne. Winnie Canfield here. I was outside cleanin’ out my garden beds when Mr. DJ comes struttin’ by just as proud as you please… said he was headin’ to the hospital to visit his Daddy. I brought him inside and fed him cookies instead. He’s an awfully determined little feller — I could even see he was thinkin’ of passin’ up on those cookies to keep on goin’!”
She went on to tell DJ’s mother what the boy had said about Franny and made her offer for DJ to come stay with her after school instead. “And JoAnne,” she added at the end, “I really think he needs to come to the hospital now… if there’s any way they’ll let him visit his Daddy for a minute. I can bring him over on the bus and then bring him back home with me.”
When they had made their plans, Winnie hung up the phone with a satisfied nod, then headed back to the kitchen. DJ had just finished the last cookie and was carrying the empty plate to the sink. She watched for a moment as he stood on tiptoe, trying to reach the faucet handle. “Hold on there,” she said. “Let me get you something.” She had a step stool in the pantry, and she set this by the sink. DJ grinned and climbed up, then turned on the water and rinsed the crumbs down the drain.
“You are a fine young man, DJ DeSoto,” Winnie Canfield declared, and she wrapped him in a hug. “Now… you know the bus that stops around the corner?”
He nodded.
“Well, it stops right in front of Rampart Hospital, too. Doesn’t take more’n 15 minutes to get there… but you’d be walkin’ for hours if you tried goin’ by foot. So I was thinkin’, how about we go together? Then I can talk with your mama about our plan. We can stop at the store on the way home and buy the makin’s for meatloaf an’ mashed potatoes. We’ll make enough to feed your mama too if she’s home for supper. Sound like a good plan?”
DJ nodded eagerly and Winnie could see the hurt and sadness that had been in his eyes when she found him out on the sidewalk fade away completely. She liked those green eyes of his like this, dancing with joy. She grabbed her purse and took her young friend’s hand in her own and the two of them headed out the door together.
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JoAnne was fuming when she hung up the phone. Not at Mrs. Canfield, of course — she was deeply thankful to the next-door neighbor for stopping DJ and calling her right away. No, she was fuming at Franny. She had always thought the fifteen-year-old was smart and respectful, and never, ever imagined that she would say such things to DJ. She knew her youngest son didn’t really like having the girl come babysit; this week, she had attributed DJ’s fussing to his missing his Daddy and just wanting things to be normal. She fumed at herself too — she really should have taken some time to sit down and talk with him about what had happened. But she had hardly been home, and she had felt she had to protect him from it, at least until she had a better idea what to expect. But that only made him worry more instead of less.
Well, first things first. She dialed her home phone number and waited until Franny picked up.
“Hello? DeSoto residence.”
Ugh… usually Jo thought the girl’s respectful tone was refreshing, but now it just sounded fake. How had she missed that?! She wanted to yell, but instead she forced herself to keep her cool. “Franny… this is Mrs. DeSoto. Would you please have DJ come to the phone?”
“Oh, he’s upstairs playing in his room, ma’am.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes’m…” She sounded confused but didn’t back down from her lie. “He went up right after lunch and I haven’t heard a peep from him since. He had his Legos out when I checked on him a few minutes ago.”
JoAnne rolled her eyes. She could feel her composure beginning to crumble. “Well, I need to talk with him. So please… go get him. Now.”
“Yes’m.” There was silence on the line for a minute before JoAnne heard Franny calling to DJ. Then she heard the fake cheerful voice harden. “This isn’t funny, you little re — “
Jo didn’t want to hear the rest of the girl’s tirade, but she forced herself to listen. If she had been right there with Franny at that moment, she would have joyfully taken the girl over her knee and paddled her, so she supposed it was a good thing she was here at Rampart and couldn’t actually do that.
Finally, Franny returned to the phone. “Umm… Mrs. DeSoto?”
“Yes, Franny?” JoAnne’s tone was now frosty.
“Umm… he’s hiding, and he won’t come out. I called and called, and I looked in his room and he’s not there.”
“You’re right. He’s not there. In fact, you lied to me when you said you checked on him a few minutes ago, because he left almost an hour ago. He decided to come find me and visit his daddy, and you were too wrapped up in your television show to notice.” By now, JoAnne had dropped all pretense of calm, though she tried to keep her voice down so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. “I don’t blame him for wanting to leave, either, after hearing what you just called him! You should be ashamed of yourself! Yes, I heard exactly what you said. I hired you to sit because I was told you were responsible and good with kids, but now I know better. Lucky for you, DJ is safe with Mrs. Canfield and he will be staying with her for now. Your services are no longer required and I will be discussing this matter with your mother and father. Good-bye, Franny. Go home. Lock the door and drop the key through the mail slot.”
“Uh… yes, ma’am, Mrs. DeSoto.” Franny’s voice sounded stricken. JoAnne really didn’t care. She slammed the receiver down and whirled about to return to the waiting room.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Johnny’s frown deepened as JoAnne told him and Nita what had happened with DJ’s babysitter. “Dr. Brackett said he would talk with DJ before he goes in,” she explained.
“Let me do it, Jo,” Johnny pleaded. “This is my fault, after all. I should take care of it.”
“And just how do you figure it’s your fault, Johnny?” Jo protested with a wave of her hands.
Johnny rolled his eyes. “‘Cause I was an idiot… if I hadn’t messed up my hand and ended up in surgery, Nita would be with DJ now and there wouldn’t be any problem.” He stood up and began to pace the floor of the waiting room.
“And I could have paid more attention to how DJ reacted when I hired Franny to sit,” JoAnne countered. “He wouldn’t say it right out, but I was too preoccupied to notice his behavior and talk with him. No, Johnny… this is my own fault.”
“I don’t think it matters who is to blame.” Nita’s soft interjection drew both Jo’s and Johnny’s attention. “Though neither one of you is… the babysitter is the one responsible. What matters is DJ. When will he be here, Jo?”
“Any minute now… if the bus isn’t running late.” She glanced toward the elevator, as if she expected it to open and deposit her son and Mrs. Canfield right then and there.
“Listen… you go on in and see how Roy’s doin’ and make sure they’ll let DJ in to see him... I’ll talk with the little guy and bring him in when he’s ready.” Johnny said.
“Where’s Peter? Is he still in there?”
Johnny chuckled and rubbed at his neck. “Uh… no. He came out a few minutes ago, was just startin’ to tell us how it went… You know Peter… lit up a cigarette right in front of that new ‘No Smoking’ sign.” He chuckled. “Then along came Dixie and told him he couldn’t smoke in here. He argued with her and she… um… told him where he could go… Then she offered to escort him there.”
JoAnne laughed. “I would have liked to see that!”
“It was quite the encounter, that’s for sure. Anyway… Dixie won… Newkirk’s havin’ his smoke outside.” Johnny grinned and shook his head, then sobered. “Really, Jo… go be with Roy. I’ll bring DJ.”
“All right.” Jo nodded. “Thanks, Johnny.” She kissed him on the cheek, then headed past the nurse’s desk toward Roy’s room.
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DJ and Mrs. Canfield arrived about ten minutes later. By that time, Johnny had abandoned the wheelchair for one of the regular waiting room chairs, with a promise to Nita he wouldn’t argue about using the wheelchair when it was time to leave. “DJ’s already upset enough,” he had insisted. “He doesn’t need to worry about me, too.”
Of course, he couldn’t hide his injured hand. DJ pulled away from Mrs. Canfield and ran to him, eyes wide with worry. “Unca Johnny! Your arm is hurted!” He climbed up in Johnny’s lap, being extra careful not to jostle the arm in its sling, and Johnny hugged him with his good arm.
“It’s not so bad,” he said, shrugging it off. “How about you introduce me to your friend?” He nodded to Mrs. Canfield, who stood nearby watching her young charge. Her fondness for DJ was evident in her eyes, and that was enough to make Johnny like her immediately.
“Unca Johnny, this is Mrs. Canfield… Mrs. Canfield, this is Unca Johnny.” He held up his teddy bear. “He gived me Taco lotsa years ago!”
Johnny held out his left hand, since he couldn’t shake with the right at the moment. “John Gage, Mrs. Canfield… but feel free to call me Johnny. And this is my wife, Nita. Any friend of DJ’s is a friend of ours,” he said with a smile.
“Likewise, and you may call me Winnie.” Mrs. Canfield set her purse on a chair and had a seat. “Is JoAnne in with Roy?”
“Yes, she is… she wants to talk with you after DJ has seen his daddy. But first… DJ, you and I need to talk a little bit.”
DJ nodded solemnly. “My daddy got hurt bad, didn’t he?”
“Yes. You see… your daddy was being very brave. He helped three children get out of a fire and because of him they are alive and safe. But he fell before he could get out and his leg got hurt so bad that Dr. Brackett couldn’t fix it.”
Big tears welled up in DJ’s eyes. “Johnny, did my daddy go to Heaven like Gus Pup?”
Damn, but I’m makin’ a mess of this! Johnny shook his head. “No, no… your daddy is alive, and you’ll see him in a little bit. But you need to know that Dr. Brackett had to amputate his leg.
The little boy’s forehead wrinkled. “What’s… ampa-tate?”
“Well…” Johnny sighed. This was a lot harder than he had expected. “It means to cut off… the doctor had to cut off one of his legs.”
“Oh…” DJ looked up at Johnny with sad eyes. “He’s still my same daddy, right?”
“Yes, he’s still your same daddy and he loves you just like always. That won’t ever change. But DJ, he’s really sad right now and he could use a lot of love from his little bear to help him feel better.” Johnny smiled at the sight of a grin spreading across DJ’s face from ear to ear.
“I’m real good at lovin’ people!” the little boy crowed. “Mrs. Canfield says so. But…” He blinked, and Johnny could see tears threatening to fall. “...can I still hug him?”
“Mrs. Canfield is right… and yes, you can hug him. As a matter of fact, I think a great big DJ hug could be just what he needs right now.” Johnny looked up to see Suzanne watching them from the nurse’s station.
“Go ahead and take him in… but just for a few minutes,” she said. “I talked to Dr. Brackett and he says it’s OK.”
Johnny held out his hand to his godson. “You ready to go, Little Bear?”
DJ nodded and slipped his small hand into Johnny’s bigger one. “I’m ready, Unca Johnny.”
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DJ peeked into his daddy’s room and saw Mama sitting next to the bed. He slipped in, tugging his Uncle Johnny behind him. “Mama?”
She turned and held out her arms and DJ saw tears sparkling in her eyes. He let go of Johnny’s hand and ran to hug her. “Mrs. Canfield brung me on a bus!”
“I know.” Mama’s voice was soft but sounded kinda stretched out like she had been worried. DJ peeked out from under her arms and saw that Daddy was sleeping.
Without waiting for permission, he climbed down from Mama’s lap and scrambled up onto the bed and scooted up next to Daddy, the way he sometimes did when he woke up in the night after a scary dream. He was real careful, because he was a little scared of hurting Daddy more, but he snuggled in close and gave Daddy a kiss on the cheek. Daddy’s eyes blinked open at that.
DJ patted a hand on Daddy’s grizzly bear chin — Daddy didn’t usually let his face get all prickly, but DJ liked it when he did. “Hi, Daddy. I missed you. So I ‘cided to come see you an’ Unca Johnny tol’ me ‘bout your leg an’ I’m real sorry ‘cause I know you’re sad… but you’re still my same daddy an’ I love you an’... an’... I’m really glad you’re not in Heaven like Gus Pup!”
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
R DJ had come late to talking, but he’d been making up for it ever since, daily proving wrong the doctor who predicted at his birth that he would never talk. Everyone in the room was silent after the torrent of words that poured out of DJ. JoAnne moved closer and started to tug the little boy out of the bed, but Roy shook his head and wrapped his good arm around the child. “Leave him,” he grunted. Right now, the child’s frank words were exactly what Roy needed to hear.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Chapter 7
Glossary (Choctaw - English)
Hoke – This Choctaw word is an intensifier and can often be loosely translated with “really” or “a lot.” I have seen many Choctaw writers use it to mean “OK,” though (and some argue that it is the source of the English term OK), and that is how it is used in the first instance that you will see.
Ahattak – my husband
Chi hullo li – I love you.
Chitikchi – your wife
Satikchi – my wife
Chi hullo li hoke – I really love you or I love you so much.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
The men of 51’s C Shift were out in the engine bay, polishing Big Red and the Squad when their attention was drawn to an official US Army staff car pulling up to the curb on 223rd St. A uniformed driver stepped out of the car and walked around to open the rear passenger door.
Matthew Carter just shook his head. “Well, I guess this means I don’t need Estes to cover for me so I can pick Gramps up at the airport.” He tossed his polishing cloth to Bowman. “Cap… he’ll want to meet everyone. Mind if I invite him in?”
“Sure,” Captain Mike Stoker was back after calling out sick the two previous shifts that week. The men had been glad to see him. Matthew was concerned, though… he hadn’t thought Cap could get any quieter than he usually was, but somehow, he had managed it today. Matthew thought he could count the words the man had spoken all day on one hand… not counting, of course, on calls, when Stoker’s command was as sure as ever.
Bowman’s eyes just about bugged out of his head. “That’s your grandfather?!”
By the time Colonel Andrew Carter stepped out of the car, his Air Force blues a contrast to the driver’s service green Army uniform, his grandson was striding past the flagpole, a bemused smile on his face. “Gramps! I should have expected this.” He stopped at the sidewalk, only then noticing that Bowman had followed him out of the engine bay and was standing ramrod straight next to him, his right hand raised to his forehead in a smart salute.
Granddad returned Bowman’s salute. “At ease, young man,” he said with a smile, then turned his attention to Matthew. “No ‘Hi, Gramps, good to see you’?”
Matthew chuckled. He could see the humor sparking in the older man’s eyes. “Hi, Colonel… good to see you,” he echoed, using the title his grandfather’s uniform demanded, even if the man didn’t. He nodded toward Bowman. “This is my partner, Alex Bowman.”
“Sergeant Alexander Bowman, Sir. Honored to meet you, Sir.”
Matthew shook his head. The hero worship in Bowman’s eyes was unmistakable. Not that he hadn’t felt the same way… Gramps had always been a hero to him, but he was also just Gramps… quirky, whip-smart, fun-loving, and Matthew’s biggest supporter. Oh… and the instigator behind a number of explosions Matthew remembered from his childhood… the ‘enhanced’ bottle rockets, the science lab out back of the house (he’d wondered why Oma insisted they build it at twice what Gramps considered ‘a safe distance’), and several others Matthew had sworn never to mention to his mother.
Carter nodded, smiling. “The honor is mine. Perhaps you and my grandson could join me for dinner tomorrow evening, when you are off duty?”
“Yes, Sir. I’d like that, Sir.”
“Would you like to see the station, Colonel?” Matthew asked. “I think Captain Stoker and the rest of the crew would like to meet you too.”
“I’ve got time for the nickel tour. Sergeant, why don’t you go back and let your Captain know we’ll be in soon. I’d like to speak with Matthew alone for a moment.”
“Yes Sir!”
As Bowman darted back into the engine bay, Andrew stepped up next to his grandson and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It really is good to see you, Takoja.”
Matthew smiled at his grandfather’s use of the Lakota term and at the love behind it. He had made an effort to learn the language, eager to see it preserved, but he didn’t have Gramps’ skill with it. “Likewise, Colonel. But you were going to let me know when I could pick you up at LAX. Estes is expecting to cover for me for a few hours. He’ll be here any minute.”
The Colonel shrugged. “I made other arrangements. If Estes will be disappointed, though, perhaps you would like to go with me to the hospital?”
Matthew considered it. He hadn’t visited Captain DeSoto yet, though of course he’d been at Rampart on runs numerous times throughout the week. He had kept up-to-date on the man’s progress and was glad to hear he had finally emerged from his coma. He couldn’t help thinking that somehow, he could have done something to prevent the accident… to keep his granddad’s good friend safe. He kept going over and over the incident in his mind, trying to figure out how he could have changed the outcome.
“There was nothing you could have done, Matthew… and it wasn’t your fault.”
Gramps’ softly spoken words pierced through Matthew’s thoughts. The man had always had an uncanny way of knowing what he was thinking before he ever spoke it. He nodded his head. “I… I know, Colonel. It’s just… I can’t stop wondering about it.”
“I understand… I’ve been there myself a few times. But you can’t dwell on it. If you spend too much time thinking about what you could have done, you may well miss what you should do now.”
Matthew absorbed his grandfather’s wisdom silently as they walked together up the drive to the engine bay, where they found the rest of the crew standing in formation. Matthew took his place in the line, and pride surged within him as Cap led them in saluting his lifelong hero. He wondered if all of a sudden he had the same hero-worship glow in his own eyes that Bowman did a few minutes ago.
The Colonel returned the salute, then shook hands with Cap. “Pleased to meet you, Captain Stoker. My grandson speaks highly of you.”
“Thank you, Colonel.” Matthew was relieved when Cap didn’t say anything more… as close as he was to the guys, there would definitely be teasing if Cap gave him a glowing assessment in front of them. In fact, he figured about ten to one odds that he could already expect to find his bed short-sheeted or floured tonight, just to keep him humble.
He had almost decided to take Gramps up on the suggestion of going to the hospital when the tones sounded, calling the paramedics out for a child who had fallen from the monkey-bars at a nearby playground. Estes hadn’t arrived yet, so Carter climbed into the Squad and took the address slip from Cap. “I’ll see you at the hospital, Colonel!” he called as Bowman drove them out of the engine bay.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Kel Brackett — along with the rest of Rampart Emergency — had been busy with the victims of a freeway pileup and so it was several hours before he could get back upstairs to check on Roy after getting word that he was awake and aware of his injury. He had hoped to be there when that happened… had hoped Dr. Richardson could be there. But Richardson had gone home sick and wouldn’t be in for a couple days.
Normally, Kel would have passed the primary care of a patient over to another doctor once that patient moved out of his department, but Roy DeSoto was someone special and Kel wasn’t about to let Thurman or Geary get their claws in him. Oh, he would admit they were good doctors… excellent doctors even. But they were too damned young and they didn’t appreciate the paramedic program or demonstrate the proper respect for its pioneers. No, Kel had made very clear to them both, Roy was his patient and would remain so, no matter where in the hospital he resided.
At last able to break away and deeming himself in need of some exercise, he jogged up the two flights of stairs to the ICU. Pending his examination, he hoped Roy would be ready to move to a regular room. It would be better for him all the way around.
When he stepped through the door from the stairwell, he was greeted by a concerned nurse. “Dr. Brackett!” Suzanne said. “We let the little boy see his daddy, as you instructed… but now he doesn’t want to leave and Captain DeSoto won’t let anyone take him out.”
Brackett grinned. “Sounds like a positive development to me… That little boy is probably the best medicine DeSoto could get at the moment. How are his vitals?”
“Well, when I checked them about five minutes ago, they were improved.” Suzanne gave him the details.
Kel nodded approvingly. “Like I said… best medicine he could have. In fact, I would prescribe a daily dose of DJ DeSoto to just about anyone in this hospital if I could. That boy brightens up any room he walks —” He noticed Suzanne’s eyes widen and turned to see what she was looking at. To his surprise, an Air Force colonel in uniform stood there. The man had arrived so quietly, Kel hadn’t even noticed him.
“I like the way you think, Doctor. I am Colonel Andrew Carter, US Air Force. Perhaps you’re expecting me? I’ve come to see Roy DeSoto.”
A wide grin broke across Kel’s features. “Dr. Kel Brackett. Good to meet you, Colonel. Yes, JoAnne told me some of Roy’s friends from the Service would be stopping in. Heh.... Nurse Dixie McCall has already told me about one of them… he… um… disagreed with her rather vociferously about the ‘no smoking’ rule.”
The Colonel shook his head and chuckled. “That sounds like Newkirk. Might I ask who won that battle?”
“Well, your man is outside with his cigarette and may well be nursing a sore ear. Dixie isn’t exactly known for taking any guff.”
Colonel Carter guffawed this time. “Good for her! But I hope she realizes… this was just a skirmish. Peter isn’t one to give up easily. And now… would you please direct me to Roy’s room?”
“Of course. I was just on the way to examine him, but I can give you a moment first. Follow me.” Kel scanned the waiting area as they walked past, but only an elderly black woman sat there just now, busy at her knitting. Kel didn’t recognize her and figured she must be there for one of Thurman’s or Geary’s patients, so he simply nodded politely when she looked up, and then walked on by.
In Roy’s room, they found JoAnne watching quietly while DJ nestled at his Daddy’s side. A ragged one-eyed teddy bear sat on Roy’s shoulder. Roy looked up as they entered. Kel appraised him quickly, noting that his color was good and his eyes alert; his mood was subdued, but he seemed relaxed. “Hello, Roy.”
“Hey, Doc. Hey, Carter.”
“Found your friend out in the waiting room.” Kel nodded to the Colonel. “Thought I should bring him in to say hello. Just briefly, though… I have a feeling you’re ready for a change of scenery… Dixie’s busy making sure there’s a room ready for you downstairs as we speak.”
“Thanks, Doc. That’ll be good.”
“All right, then… I’ll step outside and give you a few minutes. Then I’ll come back and give you the once over before the orderlies come to take you downstairs.”
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
As Kel moved past the Colonel toward the door, Carter pulled up a chair and had a seat. “Roy… I’m glad to see you again, though I wish the circumstances were different. I’m sorry, Roy.”
“I do too,” Roy admitted. “But… leastways I’m alive. Newkirk gave me a lot to think about… apparently… the same way you got him thinkin’ when it happened to him.” Though Roy refrained from elaborating, the shadow that passed over his face was enough to tell Andrew exactly what had taken place in his friend’s conversation with Newkirk. The shadow passed quickly, though, as Roy glanced at his son. “Colonel… you’ve met Jo… well, this is our youngest, Daniel Jesse… we call him DJ.”
DJ beamed and grabbed his teddy bear. “Hi. This is Taco!”
Carter leaned forward to shake the bear’s paw. “Greetings, Taco. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” Then he extended the hand to DJ, who squeezed it. “Pleased to meet you as well, young man.” The boy’s bright eyes and innocent smile reminded him of his own grandchildren when they were young. He glanced to JoAnne and nodded. “Jo… good to see you again, too. I’d best go out and let Dr. Brackett see Roy… DJ, would you like to go to the vending machine with me? We could get something for you and something for your Daddy to enjoy as soon as the doc says he can.”
DJ looked from Carter to his Daddy. Roy gave him a little nod and a pat on the knee. “Go on, Son. You know what I like best.”
The boy giggled. “You got your chocolate in my peanut butter!” he crowed as he scrambled down from the bed, and all the grown ups laughed.
“Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups it is, then,” the Colonel said. Hand in hand, he and the young DeSoto boy walked out to find the vending machine.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Peter Newkirk inhaled a lungful of smoke as he stood outside, leaning his back up against the outer wall of Rampart Hospital, watching the ambulances come and go. He flicked ash off the end of his cigarette and grumbled to himself. “Daft ol’ bird… tellin’ me off like that.” She had done more than tell him off… when he wouldn’t put out the cigarette, she had snatched it from his hand faster ‘n Carter ever did and snuffed it out, then taken him by the ear and dragged him to the elevator as if he were an errant schoolboy. Newkirk winced at the thought of Dixie McCall in a past life, wielding a ruler and wearing a nun’s wimple, rapping some hapless little feller on the palm. Oh yes, he’d felt that sting more than once in his childhood! And the ear… well, the nurse had kept a firm grip till she pushed him out the door! “This is the smoking section, Mr. Newkirk!” she’d declared.
He rubbed at his ear and scowled. It still smarted like the dickens! “I’ll show you where the smoking section is, Nurse McCall.” After one last drag, he dropped the cigarette and ground it under his heel. “It’s damn well wherever I want it to be.” With that, he headed back toward the door, steeling himself once more for battle.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
By four o’clock that afternoon, Roy had been settled in a semi-private room on the second floor. The second bed in the room was unoccupied for now — well at least, by another patient; at the moment, DJ was using it for a nap — so Roy had the room to himself, and Dixie had promised that unless things got very busy, she would see that it stayed that way.
Roy’s conscience had gnawed at him as he watched the little boy sleep. He needed to talk with Johnny… apologize to him. Apparently, Johnny had brought DJ to his room upstairs, but then had slipped away before Roy was awake enough to look for him. He hadn’t come back before Roy was moved.
Carter and Newkirk were both in the room. Roy was grateful they were talking together, catching up, talking with JoAnne, and leaving him to himself for the time being. They seemed to understand instinctively that he needed time to absorb everything, to wrap his mind around how his life had changed. And even though he was not keen on the memories their presence brought back, he was glad they were there for him. He knew Carter the best of the two, as they had been prisoners together in Camp 208, but Newkirk had been a vital part of the team that saved his life… saved all the prisoners in the camp, actually. The shared experience had formed a brotherhood that would go with him to his grave.
And Taffy… a ghost of a smile flitted across Roy’s lips as he thought of the scrappy Welshman… a man of deep compassion, a man of prayer, and definitely a man you’d want on your side in any fight. Carter said Taffy was due in any time to LAX. He’d boarded a flight in Paris a couple days ago, with layovers in New York and Chicago, just because he’d heard one of his boys was hurt.
Back when they had first met, Roy hadn’t particularly appreciated Taffy. The chaplain represented a faith that a younger Roy had been anxious to prove he didn’t need. Coming out of Camp 208, Roy had moved beyond the desire simply to be his own man — he had been angry, convinced he wanted no part of a God who would stick him in the middle of that waking nightmare, who allowed such suffering and cruelty. Taffy hadn’t pushed or condemned, but he had held firm and seemed convinced from their first meeting that one day, Roy would come around. “You have a heart for the hurting, Roy,” he’d said. “And the kind of compassion that puts the needs of others ahead of yourself. You aren’t as far away from God as you think you are.” Taffy had gotten Roy to promise that if he ever did change his mind, he’d be the first to know; when it happened, the first thing Roy had done was call Taffy to tell him about it.* And then he’d learned that Taffy had never stopped praying for him all those years. That revelation had just about brought him to his knees.
And now? Well, now he wasn’t sure. His faith was wavering. He felt as if he were precariously balanced on a precipice and falling over would be way too easy. He looked around the room, his gaze settling on his wife… his brothers-in-arms… his son. They were his anchors. They would keep him from falling, if he could just hold on tight enough. And if he couldn’t? Well… he knew they would be holding on too. So would Taffy… Chris and Megan… Johnny and their old 51’s family and his men at 36’s… and apparently even Winnie Canfield, the old lady who lived next door and had proven herself a good friend today with the care she took of DJ. Roy hadn’t gotten the whole story out of Jo yet, but he had thanked Winnie for coming and for bringing his youngest child.
Right now, his head was throbbing… his body still in need of rest… but he felt a little better than he had when he’d first understood what had happened. He rested back against his pillows. “Thanks for comin’, guys,” he mumbled, his eyes drooping. “I need to sleep a while. Find Johnny… tell ‘im… I wanna talk —” But before he could finish, he drifted off to sleep.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Johnny sat in the cafeteria across from Nita. His burger and fries lay untouched on the plate in front of him. “Maybe we should just go home… come back and see Roy tomorrow,” he said with a sigh.
“Is that what you want to do?” Nita asked.
He frowned and thought for a moment. “No,” he finally admitted. “It’s just… the look in his eyes, Nita.”
He pushed the plate away, but Nita just pushed it back. “You need to eat, Nashoba.”
“Hoke, hoke.” He picked up the burger and took a couple of bites to appease her, but he really didn’t have much of an appetite just now. “I don’t know how to help him through this, Nita. He was so… hurt and angry and… empty… when I told him.”
“In his place, wouldn’t you be?” Nita sank her fingernails into her orange and pulled away the peel.
Johnny studiously avoided her gaze, settling his eyes on his injured hand instead. “Yeah… I suppose I would.”
She reached out and wrapped her warm fingers around his good hand. “Nashoba, look at me, please.”
oy had been dreaming… over and over again, the moment when Peter placed the pistol in front of him had played out and each time he had considered whether maybe it was the best thing… maybe better for everyone. Each time, he got a little closer to reaching for the weapon. In fact, he had just settled his hand on the grip when he felt a kiss on his cheek. The dream fled and he opened his eyes in surprise to see his youngest son peering at him. He knew if he looked up at her she would see his eyes and she would know, but dammit… he could never say no to this woman… not even back when they were kids. And so he looked up, allowed his eyes to meet her gaze. He wasn’t a man readily given to tears, but he could feel them gathering, and he blinked hard to stave them off.
“There is something you are not telling me, Ahattak. I should have seen it sooner… Your eyes… they are also filled with hurt and anger.” She reached to cup his cheek in her hand. “Talk to me, my love.”
And his reserve crumbled. He told her what Dr. Valdez had said… at least the parts he could remember. “It’s just such a stupid thing, Nita, and it’s my own damn fault. I am such an idiot!”
Her eyes narrowed. She had never approved of such language, and he figured he was lucky she didn’t have a bar of soap at hand or she might have threatened him with it. But she didn’t say anything about it. She reached to brush a hand across his face, and only then did he realize that one of the tears had escaped and coursed its way down his cheek.
“Nashoba,” she said, her warm hazel eyes holding his gaze captive, her tone firm but filled with love. “Chi hullo li. We will talk with Dr. Brackett or Dr. Early. You will work hard at whatever therapy they give you. And we will trust Chihowa to take care of the rest… just as we will trust Him with Roy.”
Johnny swallowed hard and nodded. “I just… don’t want to disappoint you, Nita.”
He saw tears flood her eyes at that. “Nashoba, you could never disappoint me… not as long as you remain the kind, caring, compassionate man I know you to be. I am blessed to be chitikchi and our children are blessed to have you for Inki.”
Johnny didn’t care who might be watching. He pulled his wife into his lap and wrapped his good arm around her and kissed her, then whispered in her ear, “Chi hullo li, Satikchi. Chi hullo li hoke.”
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Upstairs, Johnny and Nita found Carter and Newkirk; the pair had moved to the waiting area and were talking there. They had first met the two men in France during their honeymoon. Just a scant two weeks after they had arrived, they had been surprised to come down after a call from the front desk to find Roy and Jo waiting for them in the lobby of their hotel. Apparently, Taffy had planned a reunion in Paris and their invitation — complete with two plane tickets — had arrived the very day Johnny and Nita had boarded their flight. Naturally, the group had widened its circle just a bit more to embrace Johnny and Nita as well. Though he had not been through Nam, his work as a paramedic meant he had seen plenty of trauma and suffering and could understand at least somewhat the darkness that haunted his friend.
Carter’s eyes widened at the sight of Johnny in the wheelchair Nita still insisted he use… she was determined that he obey Rampart law to the letter! “I’m fine, Colonel,” he growled. “Just ridin’ in this thing because apparently I have to leave the hospital to get out of it.”
Newkirk grimaced as he drew a cigarette from the case in his pocket. “I know just how ya feel, mate.” He struck a match and lit up.
“Peter,” Nita said quietly, her voice as soft as melted butter. “Please… I know you quarreled with Dixie over this, and I do not wish to cause further strife. But for the sake of the children I bear… I must ask that you not smoke around me.”
Newkirk’s jaw dropped, and he snuffed out the cigarette immediately. “Now that’s a real lady ya married there, mate,” he said to Johnny, who stood by grinning. “Nothin’ like that ol’ harridan.”
Johnny stifled a laugh. “Now, I won’t tell Dixie you called her that Newkirk, or you’re liable to end up in a hospital bed yourself.”
The Englishman snorted. “I ain’t afraid of that ol’ —” He stopped suddenly and turned back to Nita. “Nita, love… did ya say children?! Yer havin’ —”
“Twins!” Johnny’s grin now stretched from ear to ear. “Due in February.”
Newkirk nodded his approval, then wrinkled his nose. “And ya think my smokin’ could really harm ‘em?”
“My mother was a midwife on our reservation,” Nita explained. “She brought many children into the world, and over the years, she saw that the newborns whose fathers smoked suffered the same maladies as those whose mothers smoked, even if the mother didn’t. She had no means of making a proper study, and few would listen to her, but she would not allow my father to smoke in our home. Now the surgeon general is saying many of the things she often told me.** Perhaps an occasional exposure would not harm them, but you understand that I do not wish to take chances, don’t you?”
Johnny watched Newkirk’s mouth twist as he considered the information. Then the Englishman just shook his head and smirked as he placed the unsmoked cigarette back in his case.
“Johnny, lad, seems to me she’s got ya well trained a’ready. I’d be careful around this one, I would.” From the sparkle in his eyes, Johnny could tell Newkirk was just teasing.
“Well, Newkirk…” Johnny wrapped his good arm around Nita’s waist. “I’ll be the first to tell anyone, Nita’s training has made me a better man.”
Nita beamed and leaned down to kiss him on the head, but he pulled her into his lap and pressed his lips to hers instead.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Carter had watched silently as the entire scene unfolded, mouth agape and arms folded across his chest, but now he just rolled his eyes and touched two fingers to his forehead in a brief salute to Nita. “You know,” he said, “my father rarely said no to my mother, though she respected his words when he spoke. A wise man knows when to listen to a wise woman.” He tipped his head. “And a really wise man knows arguing with any woman is completely pointless.” He grinned at Newkirk, having enjoyed his friend’s skirmishes with the head nurse over the hospital’s smoking policy. He also was fully aware that Peter had no intention of backing down… and he imagined Dixie didn’t either. But he would say no more on the matter — he had a message to deliver. “Johnny, we were actually about to go looking for you. Roy was tired, but he asked us to find you and send you in… he wants to talk with you.”
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Johnny sat outside Roy’s door. He needed a moment to steady himself. In spite of his joking with Newkirk, he had just about persuaded Nita not to insist on the wheelchair just to get from the waiting area to the room, but Nurse Houghton had happened by just as he was getting up and had shot him the evil eye. At that point, he raised his hands… well, the one that wasn’t resting in a sling, anyway… in surrender and sat back while Nita push him to room 207.
He took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly before telling his wife, “All right… I’m ready.” And so she wheeled him in.
Roy was asleep and JoAnne was lying down with DJ cuddled up next to her. The pair were talking quietly, but then DJ turned toward the door and saw his favorite uncle… “Unca Johnny!” Still clutching Taco, he squirmed out of his mother’s grasp and scrambled down from the bed. “We’re bein’ quiet so Daddy can sleep.”
Johnny chuckled. The boy’s statement could probably be heard out the door and down the hall at the nurse’s station. “Whisper voice, DJ!” he reminded gently.
“Sorry.” DJ grinned ruefully as he climbed up in his godfather’s lap.
Nita parked Johnny next to Roy’s bed and gave him a kiss. “I’ll come back in a while,” she whispered.
As she was leaving, Roy blinked his eyes open. He looked at Johnny for a long moment, then focused on DJ. “Hey, Son… you’re lookin’ half-starved there. Why don’t you see if Mama will take you to the cafeteria to get something to eat? They have pretty good french fries.”
DJ sat up straight in Johnny’s lap. “That’s my fav’rite!” But then he frowned. “You OK if I go, Daddy?”
“Yeah, I’m OK, Buddy.” He smiled, but Johnny thought it looked forced. “Uncle Johnny’ll keep me company.”
“OK.” DJ hopped down and went to his Mama, who was already gathering up her purse. “I want french fries, Mama!”
Jo laughed. “All right… but you have to eat something healthy too.”
“I will,” DJ promised. He took his mama’s hand and walked to the door, but then pulled free and ran back to his Daddy. He placed Taco back on the bed. “Taco’s good med’cine,” he said. “He’s stayin’ here.” Then he ran back to JoAnne and they slipped from the room.
Johnny smiled. “Good little guy you’ve got there, Roy… but you already know that.”
“Yeah, I do. Can’t imagine life without him.” Roy’s gaze had followed his wife and child from the room, but now he turned his eyes to Johnny. He pointed to the Band-Aid on his forehead. “Sorry about that. I was outta line.”
Johnny grinned. “It’s all right. It’ll heal up soon enough… and if it scars, it’ll just enhance my rugged good looks.”
Roy laughed outright at that, but soon got serious again. “Are you really washed up too?”
“I don’t know for sure. I was tellin’ Nita about it and realized… I don’t even remember half of what the surgeon said. Nita says I’ll do what he says to do and trust God with the rest.” He shrugged. “Guess that’s the best I can do.”
“Yeah… guess so.” Roy stared up at the ceiling, and Johnny knew he was struggling. His voice wavered a little on his next words. “You told me a little… of what happened. But why was I even in that building? I… need to know. Are… are my men all right?”
“Stoker’s men, and yeah, they’re all right. You were subbing for him… it was his kids’ birthday. Got called out to an arson fire. Chief Stanley sent you in to help clear the building — there were a number of people unaccounted for.” Johnny shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t been there when the call went south, but he’d heard it told in full detail. Now he had to figure out how to balance Roy’s need for information against his need for some distance from the trauma. “Marco — he was subbin’ too — was in there with you. You handed a kid off to him, and then you went back… he thought there was someone else callin’ for help. Before long, out you came with two more kids. You passed them through a window to Carter and Bowman and that’s when the floor went. Bowman tried to catch you, but he couldn’t do that and hold the kid… and… well… he did what he had to do. Stanley called me at home… called Mike and Chet too. And we all came out to look for you. You… uh… already know the rest.”
“And your hand? You really hurt it fallin’ off your horse?”
Roy’s frank gaze sent a pang of guilt through Johnny. He had never been one to dissemble and he figured it was better to be honest now. So he told Roy the whole story, carefully choosing his words and emphasizing his own fault, both in removing his gloves to dig and in climbing up on his horse against doctor’s orders. “And that is how I ended up in surgery yesterday afternoon. I was discharged this morning but haven’t left yet.”
“Ah, so that explains the wheels. Guess I’d better get used to those myself.” Roy’s wry observation just about broke Johnny’s heart.
“Listen to me, Roy,” he said fiercely. “We are going to get you through this. You don’t have to deal with it alone… and you are not gonna end up stuck in a chair. If Newkirk can do it, why can’t you?! Hell… when I first met him, I thought you were puttin’ me on about his leg!” He ran a hand through his hair stopping at the back of his neck. Exploding at Roy wasn’t the answer, and he forced himself to a calmer tone. “I’m sorry… I know this stinks. I don’t blame you for feelin’ hurt or sad or bein’ mad as hell. But you’ve gotta remember that we’re all here for you, Roy, and that is never gonna change...” He chuckled softly. “Doesn’t matter what you throw at me.”
Roy gave a slow nod. “I know.” He was quiet for a moment before turning to look at Johnny. “Hey… would you mind stickin’ around tonight… that is, if Nita’s OK with it? Jo needs to take DJ home soon… I guess Mrs. Canfield’s makin’ ‘em dinner… and I don’t want her to have to come back tonight. But… I don’t really want to be alone just now.”
Johnny thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think Nita will mind… as long as it’s OK for her to stay with Jo and the kids. I should probably clear it with Dixie, but I can’t imagine she’d say no.”
“Thanks, Johnny. You’re a good friend,” Roy said, and he reached for the TV remote on the swivel table. “Let’s see what’s on… I could use something mind-numbing right about now.”
For the next half-hour, the two friends watched television together. Johnny didn’t mind that Roy surfed through the channels, not really settling on any one show… a PBS documentary, a couple of comedies, a tennis match… or that he didn’t care to talk much. He figured they could talk again when Roy was ready. For now, he just needed time and patience and a whole lot of love.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Chapter 8
Roy shivered, even though the weather was hot and muggy. He sat slumped in the metal cage where he’d been kept since his capture. Days and nights of misery had blended into one another until he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Was it two weeks… three? Or maybe a couple of months? All he knew was, winter had not come yet. At first, he had tried to keep track of the days, scratching tally marks on a bar of his prison every time he watched a sunrise, but eventually he had lost count. Instead of trying to figure out how many days, he kept himself sane by closing his eyes and imagining home and JoAnne and the wonderful future they had planned.
This water looked clean and fresh, unlike the dirty, foul-tasting water he had grown accustomed to in the camp. He reached to take it, bowing as he did so. “Cảm ơn bạn,” he murmured. “Thank you.” But just before the glass reached his mouth, a shot rang out and he flinched. The glass shattered in his hand, the water spilled, wasted, to the ground, soaking his bare feet instead of wetting his parched lips. He fell to the ground in shock, not even noticing the glass splinters that embedded themselves in his hands and knees.
As his eyes flew open, Roy pulled away from the fingers that had wrapped themselves around his wrist and sat up, gasping for breath. It took a moment to orient himself, but when he did, he was never so grateful to meet Johnny’s worried gaze. He grasped his friend’s hand, clinging to it as if to a life preserver. Gradually, his breathing slowed and the dark memories faded into his present reality. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Bad dream.”
“I’ll say!” Johnny sat back but didn’t pull his hand free. “Want to tell me about it, Pally?”
“No.” Roy didn’t mean to say it so forcefully. Really, he couldn’t remember the dream all that clearly… but he had been trying to forget the event he knew triggered it for the last twenty years.
“Were you remembering the collapse?”
Roy should have known Johnny would not be put off so easily. “No,” he repeated. He immediately regretted the way he spit out the word, but Johnny took it in stride. “I’m sorry, Junior. It’s just… not something I can talk about. At least… not with you. You weren’t… there. Maybe Carter… or… Anton.”
“Nam?” Johnny asked. His eyes flicked away from Roy for a moment, then settled on him again, and Roy knew that he’d hurt his friend by refusing to talk. He also knew that Johnny would never admit it, never complain about it. At least, not till Roy was back home and well on the road to recovery.
“Yeah, Nam.” Roy grasped the bedrail and shifted his weight, trying to get at least somewhat comfortable. His balance was off, and to top it all off, his leg — the one that wasn’t there anymore — hurt like crazy. “Talk to me, Junior… something good. I’d rather not sleep anymore just now.”
“Well, you know me when it comes to talkin’,” Johnny quipped, his slender fingers moving to his chest. “Never at a loss for words, that’s me!” He pulled out his wallet with his good hand and used his thumb to flip it open before setting it on the swivel table. Then he carefully slid a finger in and removed a small square of paper… or was it a photograph?… and passed it over to Roy. “Take a look at that. Tell me what you see!”
Roy stared for a moment before he figured out what he was looking at. “Is that the baby?!” He held the image closer and scrutinized it carefully. “Wait a minute… that’s two babies?!”
“Yep. Twins. Dixie surprised Nita with one of those new-fangled ultrasounds.” Johnny took the picture back. “Now, you know Nita’s church doesn’t have godparents, but if they did, we’d be asking you and Jo. Instead… we hope you’ll be pleased if we name them in your honor. Right now we’re thinkin’ Royal James and Christopher Joe if they’re both boys… we’re still workin’ on girls’ names… but Emily JoAnne would be one of ‘em.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Carter stuck his head in. “Mind if we come in and say goodnight?”
“C’mon in, Colonel… Newkirk,” Roy said. “Sorry… I guess I’ve been pretty lousy company.”
“I’d say you’re entitled.” Carter shrugged. “We’re just glad you pulled through, Roy.”
Newkirk stepped to his bedside. “Listen, mate. Ya don’t hafta pretend anythin’ fer us. Whatever ye’re feelin’, whatever ya hafta say or do ta get through… we’re here. You’ll have ups an’ downs… a real roller-coaster. But none of it is goin’ ta scare us away.” He gripped Roy’s arm and gave it a firm squeeze. “We’re ‘eadin’ over to th’ ‘otel for some shuteye, but we’ll see ya t’morrow.”
Roy nodded. Any other time, he would have insisted they stay at his house, but he couldn’t do that to JoAnne… she didn’t need to feel compelled to keep the house spotless and spend her days with him at the hospital. “Thanks… both of you.”
As Carter and Newkirk moved to the door and out into the hall, Roy looked over at Johnny, who was sitting there staring at the ultrasound, a wide grin spread across his features. “Twins… wow. That’s fantastic, Johnny. And the names… well… I’m humbled. Thank you.”
Johnny set his wallet and the ultrasound on the swivel table. “Ya know, Roy… I’ve been thinkin’... you need ta get outta this bed. How about we go on a little field trip?”
Roy shook his head. “Are you crazy?”
Johnny chuckled. “I’m a bonafide nut. You said so yourself.”
“You’re never going to forget that, are you?” Roy asked with a roll of his eyes.
“Nope. And I mean it.” And Roy knew from the look in Johnny’s eyes that he was about to go on a field trip, like it or not. “Look… you’re out of danger, you’re not on the oxygen anymore… and we can tote that IV stand with us. And just so happens, I’ve got a chariot for you right here.” He patted the arm of his wheelchair. “C’mon Roy… when have I ever steered you wrong?”
“Shall I count the ways?” But scoff as he might, Roy didn’t plan on putting up much of a fight. For one thing, he wanted a change of scenery. He’d only been in this room for a few hours, but he hated being in the hospital. And he had a hunch that one of Johnny’s zany stunts could be precisely what he needed just about now. “Fine… but how do you plan to push the chair with that damaged wing of yours?”
“You just let me worry about that.” Johnny stood up and lowered the bedrail. Roy could practically see the wheels turning as he considered the situation. He winced when Johnny pulled his injured hand out of the sling, but he didn’t say anything — it wouldn’t have done any good, anyway. “All right,” Johnny finally said, “let me help you pivot around first. Careful — you’re going to have to figure out your balance again.”
Roy didn’t look when his friend pulled the covers away. He didn’t want to see that bandaged stump again. Eventually he would have to get used to it, he supposed, but right now… the very thought of it made his stomach turn. What am I doing? he thought. He really is crazy! But all he said was, “Don’t mess up your hand even more.”
“Not gonna use my hand,” Johnny assured him. “All right… I’m gonna slide my arms under your armpits and then lift and turn you, and finally set you down in the chair. Sound good?”
“Sounds like Brackett is going to kill you.” But Roy submitted and a few minutes later he was sitting in the chair that Johnny had abandoned, and Johnny was wheeling the IV pole over so he could grasp it in his right hand and move it along with them.
As a final touch, Johnny removed the blanket from the bed, folded it, and then draped it over Roy’s lap. “Thanks,” Roy said softly. He was glad to have the stump hidden. “All right now… how do you intend to get out of this room without getting caught?”
“Well, Roy…” Johnny waggled an eyebrow. “I did a little scouting earlier, and I don’t think it’ll be all that hard. You know… the nurses’ station is all the way at the opposite end of this hall. And even better — the elevator is not more than two feet from your door.”
“I think I noticed somethin’ like that when they brought me in here, yeah.” Roy was beginning to feel better already, and he finally committed fully to Johnny’s idea of a field trip. “So… I suppose you should go push the call button.”
Johnny patted Roy on the shoulder. “Now you’re talkin’, Pally. I’ll be right back…” He winked. “Don’t go anywhere without me.”
Roy just shook his head, and he couldn’t suppress a grin. Johnny came in a minute later, a finger to his lips. “Marietta is at the desk, but she’s workin’ on somethin’ and not paying attention… but Lisa just stepped into the room a couple doors down. We gotta be real quiet or she’ll catch us. Thank goodness Debra went off duty a couple hours ago!”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Johnny just grinned and maneuvered the chair toward the door. He managed to get Roy out into the hallway just as the elevator was sliding open, and apparently no one saw them slip inside. Johnny punched the button to close the doors.
“All right, Houdini. Where to now?” Roy asked.
His friend shrugged. “This elevator goes up to the roof… let’s go do some stargazing.” He punched the requisite button and set the elevator in motion.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
A few minutes later, the two friends sat side by side on the roof. What with the light pollution and the moon getting close to full, they couldn’t really see any stars, but even so, just being outside filled Roy with an enormous sense of calm.
“Roy?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinkin’.”
“Sounds dangerous.” Roy’s dry delivery elicited a snort from Johnny.
“Seriously, Roy… remember that crazy dame on that call… the one who was doin’ ‘scream therapy’?”
“Heh… how could I forget? Someone overheard her and called it in… thought she was dyin’ or somethin’.” Roy chuckled. “She sure thought she was gettin’ somethin’ outta it.”
“Well, I was thinkin’... what if she was onto somethin’? Maybe she wasn’t so crazy after all.”
This time it was Roy who snorted. “More like she was on somethin’. Or maybe you’re just crazier than I realized.”
“You gotta hear me out, Roy!” Johnny jumped down from the ledge where he’d perched himself and began pacing, punctuating his words with broad gestures of his good hand. “Now listen… you hafta be feelin’ a lot of emotions right now. I know I am. I mean, we’re lookin’ at the… the end of an era, if you will. You an’ me… workin’ as partners… savin’ lives… and then becomin’ captains… It’s been… well… somethin’ pretty special.”
Roy snorted again. “Heh… you make it sound like we should be gettin’ Oscars or somethin’.”
Johnny’s eyes brightened and he put his hand in the air, clearly envisioning his next words in lights. “The Fire Academy Awards… I like that, Roy! Amazing idea!”
“You had a point?” Roy asked, with a roll of his eyes.
“Oh… yeah. So, I was thinkin’... we’ve both got all these emotions… at least, I do, and I figure you’re bound to. And we need to get ‘em out somehow, so’s we can get on with things… get our new start.” He kept pacing, good hand flying, and Roy couldn’t help wondering (not for the first time) where he got his energy.
“And you think we should try this scream therapy?” Roy figured if he didn’t push Johnny along, he might never actually get around to what he was meaning to say.
“Well, yeah.” Johnny shrugged. “Why not? That’s why I brought us up here… no one can hear us, especially at this end of the roof. We can be as loud as we want and it won’t attract any attention. See, that’s where that dame went wrong — she should’ve found a place like this so no one would think she was dyin’ and call it in.”
“All right,” Roy sighed. “I’ll give it a try… hell, I’ve got nothin’ to lose. But first… you gotta stop pacin’ — you’re makin’ me dizzy! And you gotta listen to me, and then you gotta make me a promise.”
Johnny stopped and turned to face him, suddenly serious. “Go on.”
Roy pointed to his friend’s injured hand. “Johnny, I don’t believe you’re really washed up.”
“What do you mean?” Johnny’s eyes flicked away from Roy’s steady gaze.
Roy shifted slightly in the chair. “I mean… I think there’s a part of you that… wants to be washed up.”
“That’s just plain stupid, Roy.” Johnny started to pace again, then stopped and looked out over the city, his shoulders slumping slightly.
Roy knew he’d struck a nerve. “It’s not stupid. It’s just… that code of loyalty you live by, and maybe a bit of guilt thrown in. You saw what happened to me and you know I can’t come back from it… and so you think you need to bow out too. We became paramedics together… then we became captains together… and we always figured we’d go out together too. But Johnny, this isn’t the way to do it.”
Johnny turned and sat on the ledge again. He still didn’t meet Roy’s eyes, but Roy could tell he wasn’t quite ready to give up the fight. “Dr. Valdez did say there could be permanent damage.”
Roy had to chuckle. “If Nita were here right now, she’d be callin’ you a stubborn Choctaw, but she’s not, so I’ll do it for her. Yeah, there could be. Doesn’t mean there is. So, here’s what I want you to promise, and then I’ll try your wacky scream therapy idea and anything else you want me to try. I know you’ve already talked about it with Nita, but I want your word you won’t go into it half-hearted. Whatever therapy they want you to do… do it. Put your whole heart into it. Don’t hold back because you feel guilty about me.” He pulled up the blanket, revealing the stump of his leg. “This is already bad enough, John,” he said. “I don’t need you backin’ off therapy on my conscience.”
“You know me too well, Roy,” Johnny said after a long moment of silence. “I don’t think I realized it until you pointed it out… but yeah… I think… you’re right.” At last he raised his eyes to meet Roy’s. “All right, I give you my word. You can even coach me… Hell… we can coach each other. You’ve got plenty of hard work ahead of you, too.”
“You’ve got a deal.” Roy relaxed. “All right… so how do we start this off?”
“Um… Roy… it’s scream therapy. Ya just… scream.”
“Yeah, but what am I supposed to scream?”
“Whatever you’re feelin’, Roy.”
Roy thought for a moment, then drew in a deep breath and let it out in one long, loud scream. “THIS SUCKS!”
“C’mon Roy… that’s all you’ve got?” Johnny straightened up and screamed at the top of his lungs, “IT ISN’T FAIR, GOD!”
Roy shook his head and then let loose with a string of screamed cuss words that would have sent JoAnne straight for a bar of Irish Spring if Chris or Megan had been the culprit. Johnny followed suit, screaming out all the anger and fear and sorrow that had been gnawing away at his insides all week.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
At last they both grew quiet and just sat together again. And both were startled by the sound of a throat clearing behind them.
“Are the two of you quite finished?”
Johnny turned Roy’s chair around slowly, bringing them face to face with Dixie, who stood a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, one foot tapping away, one eyebrow arched, and a grim twist to her lips. “Well now, Dix… uh… I can explain…”
She shook her head. “I don’t even want to hear it, Johnny. What I want to know is…” And that’s when Roy saw her eyes twinkle and her mouth soften into a smile. “...why didn’t you invite me? You could have saved us a lot of anxiety while we were searching for you, and after this week, I have some choice words I’d love to let fly myself.”
“Sorry, Dix.” Johnny beckoned her over to join them. “Um… if you want to… the stage is yours.”
She seemed to consider it, but then shook her head. “Tempting… but not tonight… not now. They’ve been looking for you, and Dr. Brackett is fit to be tied. For the sake of poor Marietta and Lisa, I’m getting you back downstairs, Roy DeSoto, and if you know what’s good for you, no more escape attempts.” She moved behind the wheelchair and nudged Johnny out of the way, taking control of steering it herself. “And Johnny, don’t you think I don’t know this was all your idea. I bent the rules letting you stay overnight in Roy’s room, but that’s done with.”
Roy jumped readily to Johnny’s defense. “Now Dix, it was good for me, and he just suggested it… I willingly went along with him. And ya know what, I feel a lot better after Johnny’s ‘scream therapy.’ Please let him stay. I promise we won’t do it again.”
Dixie stopped in front of the elevator and pushed the button to call it up to the roof. “That’s what you call it, huh? Scream therapy? I’m glad you feel better, Roy, but I’m not the one who banished Johnny. Kel’s the one you need to convince, and it’s going to be a hard sell — he’s very angry. Oh… and if you ever pull a stunt like this again, I am going to tell your wives exactly what I heard you screaming.” The elevator door slid open and she pushed Roy inside.
Johnny followed meekly behind them. “We won’t do it again, Dix,” he promised, holding up his left hand in a three-fingered salute. “Scout’s honor.”
“Yeah, we won’t do it again,” Roy agreed.
“Good.” She pressed the button for Roy’s floor and then the button for the ground floor. “Roy, you have friends waiting in your room; Johnny, Dr. Brackett is expecting you in his office. I suggest you get that arm back in the sling before you go in there.”
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
“Doc, please…” Johnny sat forward in the chair, facing Kel Brackett across his desk. “Roy shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“What, I should let you stay with him so you can practice new ways of breaking him out?” Brackett’s eyes flashed. “You should know better, Johnny! Hell, you do know better! Roy was in a coma less than 24 hours ago and now you’ve got him gallivanting up to the hospital roof?! Of all the irresponsible stunts you could have pulled! You’re lucky nothing happened.”
“I’m sorry, Doc… it was a mistake.” Johnny had all sorts of things he wanted to say, but he bit them all back. He hadn’t antagonized Kel Brackett like this in years. For now, calm and steady was the way to go. “I shouldn’t have taken him up there. But I wish you would listen to me. He had a bad nightmare, Doc. He was breathin’ hard and his pulse was racin’ and he woke up really upset. I’m afraid if it happens again and he’s alone, he might try gettin’ up… and that would be a lot worse than me takin’ him outside, wouldn’t it?”
“Nightmare?” Kel frowned, suddenly backing off his lecture. “About the fire and collapse?”
“No… about Nam,” Johnny said. He watched Kel’s eyebrows rise. “He won’t talk about it with me, which is fine… I don’t need him to tell me about it till he’s ready. But Doc… he needs someone with him, and the someone he asked for is me.”
Brackett sighed. At least his anger seemed to have abated and his tone had softened. “Listen, Johnny… I’m not just saying no because of your little excursion… though that’s reason enough. I’m also concerned about you. You’ve just had surgery… you’re supposed to take it easy, and taking care of your friend in a high-stress situation just doesn’t fit the bill. If I had been consulted about your little arrangement with Dixie, I would have put my foot down then. But I also agree that Roy shouldn’t be alone. His friends Taffy and Anton are here now, up in his room. After a short visit, Taffy will drive you back to the DeSotos’ and then go on to his hotel. Anton will stay with Roy tonight.”
Johnny frowned. He knew he should just be glad Roy wouldn’t be alone, and he could use a rest right now — he’d put off taking his pain meds because he knew they would knock him out, and his hand and wrist were really throbbing. But he wasn’t glad. He knew Anton, of course… had met him in Paris along with the rest of Roy’s buddies from Nam. Anton was a good guy. But Johnny couldn’t help feeling usurped.
“Fine, Doc,” he snapped. He didn’t mean to sound sullen; it just came out that way. Grow up, John Gage, he told himself. This isn’t a grade school playground. “I’ll just go wait for Taffy.”
Brackett’s right eyebrow quirked upward. “Not going to say goodnight to Roy?”
Johnny stopped at the door. “He’s got company… he’ll be fine. I’ll see him tomorrow. I’ve gotta call Nita and I’m hungry. I’ll wait for Taffy down here in the nurse’s lounge. And Doc… for what it’s worth, I am sorry.” And with that, he pushed through the door and trudged down the hall.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Kel watched Johnny out the door. He hoped the stubborn hose jockey really would get some rest and let himself heal. As worried as Brackett was about Roy, he was just as concerned for his moody best friend. Maybe I came down too hard on him.
But no… Johnny had deserved the dressing down. Even if his heart was in the right place, it had led him to act without thinking, a dangerous proposition for a man as accident prone as John Gage. Johnny had a big heart, especially where his family was concerned. But there were some days — especially when someone in that family was hurting — when he didn’t seem to have the sense God gave a goose. And that’s right where he was this week with Roy.
Kel had watched the relationship between Roy and Johnny grow from its very beginning… from the days when they first united against him in supporting the paramedic program. That common cause, working hand-in-hand with each man’s deep-seated need to help others, had cemented a strong bond between the two of them early on — a bond which had only grown stronger throughout their partnership. That bond was the secret behind the best paramedic team in the county — Hell, if Kel were a betting man, he would have put money on DeSoto and Gage being the best team in the entire state, if not the country. Losing them to promotion had hit hard. Though Kel understood their need for the higher pay that went along with the captain’s hat, he had been loath to lose them. He’d trained and worked with many paramedics since those early days, but he had yet to come across another team like Roy and Johnny.
Roy was reliable… well-grounded… in his professional life as well as his personal life. Kel knew that he tended toward depression and had struggled after returning from Nam, but it never interfered with his work. In fact, from what JoAnne said, his work with the Fire Department was a big part of what pulled him through the darkness and kept him sane.
Johnny, meanwhile, was whip-smart, but could get his head lost in the clouds without Roy’s quiet, steadying influence. He was the innovator, the improviser of the pair. Honest to a fault, he seemed to lack the arrogance that often went along with a personality like his. Generally, he would readily admit when he was wrong, but there were times when he needed to be taken down a peg and Roy would cheerfully step in and take care of it with a well-aimed zinger.
When the two went to work together, it was like magic. Each seemed to know what the other needed without a word spoken. Kel had been privileged to watch them in action more than once and had always come away feeling a bit awestruck.
Now Kel wondered if there were some way to restore that magic. Roy’s days as a fire captain were over, that much was clear. Likely, the department would offer him a desk job, but he would be wasted there. You didn’t just consign a man with his knowledge and experience and understanding to a lifetime of pushing papers.
The seed of an idea took root in Kel’s mind, and he made a mental note to discuss it with Johnny. The man was angry at him now, but he never held a grudge for long, and Kel hoped that this idea would both mend some fences and provide some positive motivation for Roy as he moved forward into rehabilitation.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Chapter 9
Author’s Note: This chapter and the last were emotionally very difficult to write. This tale is going far beyond what I expected — especially with weaving in Roy’s backstory — but it has all just seemed to fit, so I’m letting the story carry me where it wants to go for now.
Three songs that I love have stood out to me as appropriate for Roy. I don’t quote them in the story at all because they are fairly recent and he could not have listened to them during the time of this story; however, I’ve listened to each of them multiple times while writing these recent chapters, and I thought you might enjoy being able to look them up. So, if you like, check out the following songs by Andrew Peterson on YouTube: The Rain Keeps Falling, In the Night, and The Silence of God.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Roy’s friends stood back while Dixie got him settled in his bed again. “You have a good talk,” she said, and she patted him on the arm. “Lisa will be in to check your vitals and give you your meds in a few minutes. Meanwhile, my shift is almost over. I have a few reports to sign, and then I’m going home.” Her soft smile assured Roy that all was forgiven.
“Thanks, Dix.” Roy waved as she moved to the door, then turned his attention to his guests. “Taffy… Anton… you both came.”
Anton shrugged and smiled. “I had just finished up a job in Paris and was at Taffy’s when he got the call from the Colonel. I had some vacation time saved up, so here I am. Dr. Brackett asked me to take over for Johnny tonight… hope that’s OK with you.”
“Well, damn…” Roy frowned, then turned to look at Anton. “Sorry… I’m glad you’re here… but I’ll bet Johnny’s takin’ it hard… ‘specially after what I said earlier.” Roy regretted telling Johnny he would talk to Anton or Carter, but not to him. He knew Johnny meant well… knew that he just wanted to help. But Johnny had no context for understanding; he couldn’t begin to imagine the things that Roy had seen and experienced. And Roy didn’t want to burden him with that. Yeah, Johnny had been through rough patches in his own life — losing his little sister, his mom’s death by suicide, and his dad succumbing to cancer — all before he was 13.* And yet somehow he’d managed to hold on to a childlike innocence that Roy envied. Roy didn’t want to destroy that, not just for Johnny’s sake, but for his own. Johnny’s sense of wonder, his exuberance about the smallest things, even the way he would start rambling on about his passion du jour — just being around that restored, even if only for a little while, some of that kid nature Vietnam had stolen from Roy; that’s what led him to agree to crazy things like a hospital room escape and a rooftop session of scream therapy. Sometimes Roy thought that if he spent enough time around Johnny — if his friend didn’t manage to drive him stark raving mad first — maybe he would finally really heal.
But Anton… Anton had been with Roy in the prison camp, had seen everything he’d seen. They had both been damaged by their time in Nam, and Roy had no doubt Anton still struggled with the memories same as he did. Roy thought back to their first encounter… and for a moment, it was like he was there again… marching at gunpoint past the tiger cage… seeing the kid inside as he scraped something across the metal bars in a futile attempt to file through them. Kid… that’s what he looked like to me, even though he’s not much younger ‘n I am. Guess I felt like I aged a couple decades those first few months in Camp 208.
Anton was released from the cage eventually to take his place in the prison huts with the rest of the broken, hopeless men, and he somehow managed to rally them. Roy had already been tending to their medical needs as best he could in those filthy conditions; Anton organized them, got them working together for a common purpose — not just survival, but escape. He and Roy quickly became more than friends… theirs was a brotherhood forged in the fires of Hell, and that brotherhood kept them both alive.
Sometimes thinking about those days… and their friendship… was too difficult, because it brought back the horror of it all, but Roy knew that if he ever got word Anton was hurt, he would drop everything to go support him however he could. Now he gripped Anton’s hand. “Thanks for comin’.”
“Anytime, Roy.”
Taffy stepped up and squeezed his shoulder. “Dr. Brackett asked me not to stay long… he says you need your rest. Especially after…” Here he raised an eyebrow. “...your little adventure. But I want to pray for you before I leave… if I may.”
Roy bit back the urge to scoff, the way he would have in the old days. He knew the old RAF chaplain well enough to know that he hadn’t stopped praying from the moment he got the call. But prayer wouldn’t bring Roy’s leg back. Taffy raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an answer. “Go ahead,” Roy said quietly.
Taffy kept his hand on Roy’s shoulder, and Anton followed suit. All three men bowed their heads and closed their eyes, and Taffy prayed. “Father, thank you for saving Roy and for using him to save those children. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s been a man of honor, putting the lives and safety of others before his own. Be with him now as he heals. Give him strength to work through the pain and the anger and the grief, and prepare his heart for the new purpose you have for him. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.”
“Amen,” Anton echoed.
Roy remained silent. Finally, Taffy patted his arm and pulled back his hand. “Well, good night, Roy.”
As the older Welshman turned toward the door, Roy felt something breaking inside him. He’d spent so many years closed off to God, convinced he didn’t need the faith his wife wished they shared, but then almost seven years ago, after a bad rescue, he had broken down and made that faith his own.** And now, as angry as he was, he knew he couldn’t just turn his back on that — not, at least, without becoming as bitter and hard-hearted as JoAnne’s mother had been. He didn’t want that for himself or his family. Taffy’s hand was on the door when he finally spoke. “Amen… and Taffy… thanks.”
Taffy turned back and looked at him. “You are most welcome, my boy. Remember, God knows. He always knows what is in our hearts. He truly does can trust Him with your pain and your anger. He has big shoulders, Roy. Don’t forget that.” With that, Taffy smiled and slipped from the room.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
By the time Lisa came in to take Roy’s vitals and give him his meds, Anton had made himself comfortable, stretching out on the other bed in the room. “Feels good after all those hours cooped up on the plane… seems like we hit delay after delay getting here. Sat on the tarmac in New York for 3 hours after boarding before we were finally able to take off. Mechanical problems, they said.”
“Could’ve been worse,” Roy snarked. “They might’ve figured that out after you were in the air!”
“Your vitals look pretty good, Captain DeSoto,” Lisa interjected. “Heartrate’s a little elevated, though. On a scale of one to ten, how bad is your pain?”
“Four,” Roy lied. It was really about an eight... approaching a nine. “I can handle it… I don’t need the morphine.” But he could see in Cindy’s eyes that she wasn’t convinced.
“You need to stay ahead of the pain, Captain,” she scolded lightly.
But Roy was stubborn. “No morphine,” he insisted. “I don’t like how it makes me feel.” That at least was true… it made him drowsy, which meant sleeping, and he wanted to avoid that at all costs.
She sighed. “All right then. I’ll just hang the saline solution and your antibiotic for now. But I’ll have to let Dr. Brackett know you’ve refused it, and he’ll probably be up here to talk with you about it.”
More likely he’ll send Dixie, Roy thought. But he only said, “Fine.” If Dixie got wind, he knew he’d be getting the morphine within the hour, but at least he could put it off a little bit.
Lisa finished her work and hurried out. Meanwhile, Anton rolled onto his side and faced Roy, suddenly somber. “Bad dreams?”
“Somethin’ like that. Worst of it is… it was all real.”
“Back at the camp?”
“Yeah. Day I got out of the tiger cage… been tryin’ to forget that ever since.”
Anton was sitting up now, listening intently. “You never told me about that.”
“Never told anyone,” Roy shot back.
“Well… I’m here. Maybe talking about it would help.”
“Maybe.” Roy knew Anton was right, and he had as much as promised Johnny he would talk to him. But that was when he didn’t know Anton was actually coming. He sighed heavily. In for a penny, in for a pound, he remembered his dad saying. “Yeah… OK.”
He closed his eyes as he told the story. The images washed over him and for once he didn’t fight them away. Maybe he just needed to let them play out, get to the end. He told Anton about the dream and then picked up where it left off… where Johnny had awakened him.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Once more, he was yanked to his feet. The first guard was laughing, a pistol smoking in his hand. Roy had been so focused on the water, he hadn’t even noticed it. He did not expect for the pistol to be pressed into his own hand. In broken English, the guard gave his orders. “One must die… you choose.” He gestured toward the other two prisoners, where they lay barely conscious in the dirt. Roy stared at them, he hefted the gun, momentarily considering turning it on the guard instead. But he knew that would be a futile gesture. They would not hand him a weapon unless they had one trained on him — on all three of them — right now. Even if he managed to take the guard out, Roy would be dead before the man hit the ground. He knew the unspoken rule — do what you must to survive. But this… he couldn’t do this. How could he choose one man’s life over another’s? Perhaps the one he chose would thank him for it, would say he was showing mercy. But he could not know that — he would only be rationalizing, looking for a way to justify giving in to a great evil. The guard screamed at him, “Choose now! Or all die!”
Roy looked up at the guard, locking eyes with him for only one brief second. And then he held the weapon to his own head. “I’m sorry, Joanne,” he whispered. And he pulled the trigger. It clicked. The gun was empty, no bullet in the chamber. Roy fell once more to his knees, barely aware as he was dragged back to the cage and locked inside once more.
Numb inside, feeling as if he were floating above the prison yard, he watched as his tormentors shot the other two captives and dragged their corpses away. He must have slept after that because the next time he looked, the cages that had been emptied contained two new prisoners. They looked beaten and bruised and so very young and frightened. Roy wished he could talk to them, comfort them somehow, but even if talking had been allowed, he found that he had no words of comfort left in him. He closed his eyes and thought of Joanne and simply waited to die.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Dixie stood outside the door to Roy’s room, her eyes swimming with tears. She had come to give Roy a piece of her mind, to insist that he accept the morphine. She knew he was in pain, she knew he needed relief so that he could rest. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but she also didn’t want to interrupt, and Roy’s voice carried just far enough that she heard every word. He had told the story in a flat monotone, and yet she could hear his anguish echoing through every syllable.
She had come at Kel’s behest to convince Roy to accept the morphine. But now she couldn’t bring herself to enter the room. She didn’t trust herself to hide the tears, to speak coolly and calmly and not let her emotions get the better of her, and she knew he wouldn’t want her to see him right now anyway. Oh, she’d served in Korea… she had seen the horrible things human beings could do to one another... but just the idea of gentle, caring Roy DeSoto, being asked to make such a terrible choice, and then hearing how he’d turned that choice on himself rather than harm another… well, it was too much to bear, even for a hardened old Army nurse like Dixie McCall. I suppose I haven’t just broken Rule Number One where my boys are concerned… I’ve completely shattered it. She dried her eyes, straightened her uniform, and hurried down the hall before Roy or Anton could realize she was there.
She considered going back to Kel. He would know how to comfort her, would wrap her in a hug or take her for coffee and willingly listen to her, get angry with her, help her calm and center herself and make ready to face the world again. But Kel would want to know exactly what had upset her so. He would dry her tears and press her to talk to him and she would not be able to tell him no. And she could not do that to Roy… as far as Roy knew, he had told his story to only one other living soul in the last 20 years, and that was Anton. Dixie knew she could not betray his privacy by sharing it with someone else without his consent.
And so her feet carried her not to the comfort of Kel Brackett, but to Rampart’s chapel. She came through these doors often, almost always to find friends or family of a patient, taking refuge in the peaceful, quiet setting, and bring them news, whether welcome or heartbreaking, of their loved one. Rarely did she come to find comfort for herself, but tonight she needed to be here, needed some help to make sense of what she had just heard.
She slid into the pew, lowered the kneeler, and went to her knees, but when she opened her mouth to pray, words escaped her.
Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. “God hears what’s in our hearts, you know,” a familiar lilting voice said. “He hears your tears. That’s why He gave them to us.”
She had heard the voice for the first time just an hour or so ago, but it had captivated her. Now it washed over her heart like a healing balm. Setting herself once more on the pew, she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Taffy… I… thank you.” She had come here to be alone, but found comfort in the presence of Roy’s friend, so she scooted over and gestured to the spot next to her. “This seat’s free.” She dabbed at her moist eyes again, then blew her nose. With a wry laugh, she crumpled the kerchief and stuck it back in her pocket. “I must look a sight.”
“For sore eyes,” the Welshman said as he sat next to her. “I felt a nudging in my heart as I walked by the chapel, on the way to look for John Gage. I’ve learned over the years never to ignore those. Anyway… I’m here if you need to talk. Or we can just be quiet together, as you prefer.”
Dixie nodded. She sat quietly for another moment, then said softly, “I didn’t mean to overhear. Roy and Anton were talking… I stopped at the door, waited to go in… and… and I heard... Roy’s story.” Tears gathered anew and hung on her lashes, then one coursed its way down her cheek. Taffy gently brushed it away with his thumb.
“I’m an old Army nurse, Taffy,” Dixie continued. “I shouldn’t break down like this, but…”
“But you’ve spent years loving on these men. They’re like younger brothers to you. And the thought of somebody hurting any one of them hurts you deeply. And to learn it unexpectedly that way makes it hurt even more.” Taffy turned to look into her eyes. “Roy is a lucky man, Nurse McCall, to have friends like you on his side.”
Dixie reached for her damp handkerchief again, but Taffy stopped her. Then he handed her a clean one from his own pocket. “Here. Keep it. I’ve got more.”
“Thank you.” She dried her eyes and cheeks.
“Nurse McCall,” Taffy said after a quiet moment, “I don’t know Roy’s full story, but I saw enough during my time in Vietnam to imagine. And just from the little time I’ve known you, I get the idea that it would take something truly terrible to bring you to tears like this. I’m not going to ask you to tell me — it’s not my place. But guard it for him. In the right time — you’ll know when — talk with him… let him know that you heard. It wasn’t an accident that you heard, Nurse McCall — I believe that with all my heart.”
She nodded again as she filled her lungs with a deep calming breath and then let it out slowly. “Yes,” she said, her voice steadier now as she gazed into his warm brown eyes. “I will talk with him… when the time is right. Thank you, Taffy.”
“My pleasure, Nurse McCall.”
“Dixie,” she corrected. She felt as if she’d been captured in his gaze, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to break away, though she also felt like an awkward school girl.
“All right… Dixie.” He broke eye contact suddenly and cleared his throat. “Well, I’d best be getting on to find John Gage. Your Dr. Brackett said he was waiting for me in the nurse’s lounge.”
Dixie noticed for the first time that he was holding her hand when he raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it. Then he stood and bowed slightly before turning for the door.
She watched him go, uncertain how to describe what she was feeling… uncertain if she should even be feeling that way so quickly after what she had heard from Roy. Gracious, Dixie, she thought, he’s old enough to be… well… not your father, maybe… but still! Besides… he was just being a gentleman.
Not sure she trusted her legs to hold her, she sat a few more minutes after Taffy’s departure before wandering out in a daze. She was glad her shift was over, because she wasn’t sure she could manage to focus on patients or paperwork just now. She headed to the locker room to get things together and get ready to go home.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Roy shivered. Telling the story… reliving it as he did so… had taken more out of him than he’d expected. And he hadn’t even gotten to the moment he was pulled out of the cage again, this time for good.
He had expected to hear another shot ring out any minute, allowing him to descend into the oblivion of death. Instead, he was yanked to his feet and forced stumbling along the path to a collection of small huts, built on stilts to prevent them washing away during the rainy season. Inside one of those huts, he was presented with the deathly ill Colonel Dao Van Long, and informed that to save his own life, he must save the colonel’s. He never could remember exactly what he did or how he managed it, but within a week, the colonel was on the mend and Roy was moved to another hut, this one crammed with prisoners.
Now Roy was spent. He couldn’t get another word out, so he just lay silent, watching Anton and trying to gauge his reaction.
After a long moment, Anton finally looked at Roy. “Would it surprise you to know I didn’t belong in that camp at all? I wasn’t supposed to be there?”
“None of us were,” Roy answered, uncertain what his friend meant.
“No… I mean, I really wasn’t supposed to be there. I wasn’t a soldier. I wasn’t in the military at all. I was an outside contact. I worked through the Underground and through Taffy. I was trying to help establish contacts inside the camp. Someone betrayed me and I got captured. I didn’t find out who it was until it was far too late. In fact, I didn’t know who it was until just before the escape.”
Roy thought for a moment. “Duffy,” he finally growled. He knew the man had betrayed them all to the Commandant. It wasn’t a far stretch to figure that he had started out by betraying Anton.
“Yeah. Taffy, Fields and I were working together to try to figure out who it was. I think Taffy may have suspected, but he was trying to get proof.”
“Well, he paid for it.” Roy hated that hard part of himself that even now rejoiced in Duffy’s death, but he couldn’t help it.
Anton nodded. “Yeah. We didn’t know the Army had an extra ace in their hand. Thank God they did… most everyone thought that guy was just nuts.”
“You must be talkin’ about Murdock.” Roy nodded, remembering. “Yeah, he was nuts… but in a good way. Sure helped save our bacon that day.”
“Well… a lot of things worked together… and a lot of people. We got lucky all the way around.”
“Yeah, guess so.” Roy yawned and shifted in his bed. He didn’t want to sleep, but exhaustion was tugging at him and his eyelids were heavy. He blinked hard, trying to wake himself up.
“Roy, don’t fight it,” Anton advised. “As hard as it is, talking about it may help it to ease up in time. That’s what I had to do. Still do. And it won’t bother me if you need me to shake you awake, or if you need to wake me up to talk or just to be there. I sleep fairly light. And there is no shame in any of it. That’s the thing. It is what it is. I’m here. And just remember, you are strong enough, no matter how it feels. They didn’t break you back then, and they can’t break you now.”
“Yeah... I s’pose you’re right. I hope you’re right.” Roy blinked again. “I’m really hurtin’.”
“That’s the other thing. Don’t be afraid of the meds when you need them. Let them take the edge off, but don’t let them drop you into oblivion. You need to rest...so let them do that. Why don’t you call the nurse, and let her help you. I’m gonna grab a cup of coffee, and I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”
“Yeah.” Roy pressed the call button. “Anton... thanks for listenin’. I feel... pretty raw still... but better after tellin’ you.”
Anton grinned. “Any time, my friend.”
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
“Dix?”
Dixie stopped and looked up. “Oh… Kel… sorry, didn’t notice you there.”
He chuckled. “I called your name four times! You sure were somewhere far away… you all right?”
“Yes… I’m… good, actually. Thanks, Kel.” She felt her cheeks warm under his scrutiny.
“Why, Dix, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were blushing.” Kel’s eyes danced, and Dixie felt a pang of guilt along with the reminder how very dear he was to her. “Anyway… whatever you said to Roy did the trick… Lisa just called down to let me know that he decided to take the morphine. Just thought you should know. Headed home?”
“Good. And yes, I’m tired. See you tomorrow, Kel.” She decided it wasn’t important to tell him she hadn’t actually spoken to Roy; she was just glad he had opted for the pain relief after all, and she said a silent prayer that he would sleep without dreams tonight.
“See you tomorrow, Dix.” He put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze.
A platonic hug, that’s all it is, she told herself. He lost interest in anything more a long time ago. With a small wave, she hurried to the door without looking back.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Johnny climbed into Taffy’s rental car and settled into the passenger seat, where he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He figured he would feign sleep to get out of polite conversation.
“Why do you feel threatened by Anton staying with Roy, John?” Taffy kept his eyes studiously on the road, but he might as well have been staring straight at the man in the passenger seat.
Johnny’s eyes snapped open. “Huh?” So much for avoiding conversation. How did Taffy do that?! How did he see straight through to the heart of the matter? Well, Johnny was not about to admit he was right. “Don’t know what you mean,” he grunted.
Taffy smiled. “Don’t be alarmed. I hold a master’s degree in Psychology. My thesis had to do with people and relationships. I won’t bore you with the details. I know you care deeply about Roy… and regardless of his other relationships, you want to be the one he leans on. It’s hard when you’re not, even though that doesn’t make sense.”
Johnny detected no judgement at all in the Welshman’s voice, which fell silent as he watched the traffic and the street signs. “Turn left at the light,” he said, eager to get to Roy’s house as quickly as possible. “So… did that degree include certification in mind reading?” He couldn’t resist the jab, but also decided it was prudent to surrender now… he’d heard from Roy how skilled Taffy was at pulling words out of a person, and he had no taste for fighting a losing battle. “We’ve had each other’s backs for more than ten years now... seen all sorts of sh — er…” He quickly amended his language in front of the chaplain. “...crap… together. He’s more than a friend, Taffy. He’s family.”
“Of course he is. And everyone he is close to feels the same way… his wife, you, Anton… the rest of us.” The red arrow changed to green and Taffy made the left turn. “But you’re right, John. The two of you are different. You have seen and done things together that are different. He and Carter and Anton… also different… they have a unique bond. Trick is, how to fit it all together without destroying each other… and more importantly, Roy... in the process.”
“Hang a right up here at Halldale,” Johnny directed, and Taffy nodded.
“Think of it this way, John. In your fire station, each man has a role to play, right? You have the paramedics… the linemen… the engineer… and then you, the captain.”
“Yeah.” John stared out the window as Taffy talked, but he was absorbing every word.
“If the linemen tried to do the paramedics’ job, it would cause problems, wouldn’t it? Could even lead to disaster, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you and Anton and Carter… and the rest of us… all have a part to play in helping Roy toward recovery. We can’t do your part, and you can’t do ours. Your unique bond with Roy prepares you to help him in a way that only you can. His need for Anton right now does nothing to negate his need for you.”
Johnny nodded slowly, then heaved a long sigh. “I get it, Taffy, I do. But I still wonder… why can’t he talk with me about it?”
“About Vietnam, you mean?”
“Yeah. I can see it sometimes in his eyes... it still haunts him. And I know he was havin’ nightmares again in Paris... during the reunion. Then he had a bad one earlier tonight.”
Taffy was quiet for a moment, and then pulled the car into a deserted parking lot and parked. He turned to face Johnny. “Do you know anyone who was a World War Two veteran, John? Personally, who talks about it, tells stories about the battles?”
Johnny nodded. “My uncle fought in the war... he helped raise me after my dad died. Sometimes his buddies would visit and they would sit around talking about their war stories, but they never knew I listened in. He always reckoned I was too young.”
“Most veterans don’t, because they have no need to talk about it. But the big difference in the two wars is that we won World War Two. There were other differences, too… during World War Two, at least in Europe, the POWs were protected by the Geneva Convention.*** Life in the camps was not pleasant. It was hard, especially towards the end. But when the war ended, our boys came home as heroes. They received a hero’s welcome.”
Where they sat, Taffy’s face was illuminated by a streetlight. Johnny turned to face him and could see the emotions in his eyes as he remembered… anger, he thought, and a deep, lingering sorrow.
“All of that was nothing compared to the sheer hell that was Vietnam,” the Welshman continued. “You see, we did not win in Vietnam. They didn’t even have the guts to call it a war. They called it a ‘conflict.’ And when our boys came home from Vietnam, they were reviled, spat upon, and disgraced; made to feel ashamed that they had been ordered to fight... given no choice but to fight or become criminals if they avoided the draft. The Viet Cong treated POWs, like Roy, worse than animals, John. They ignored the Geneva Convention… kept their prisoners in cages or in pits… tortured them, both mentally and physically. Roy does not want you to think less of him for what he went through; he does not want you to suffer from knowing what he suffered. One man in pain is enough. I know, because for years, I felt the same way after Stalag 13, even though our treatment was not nearly as severe.”
Johnny sucked in a breath at the words cages and tortured. He hadn’t thought too hard on what exactly Roy might have experienced. “I could never think less of him... I just want... to lighten his load by sharing it.” He sighed. “I should’ve gone. My number was called up,**** but I got a deferment because my aunt was newly widowed and had no one else to support her. But... I should’ve been there. Then he could trust me with it.”
Taffy smiled sadly. “No, John. It is not a matter of trust. It is a matter of love and a gift. On both your parts. Think of it this way. What would have happened to your aunt if you had gone and you had been killed? You stayed, and she knew you loved her enough to take care of her. A gift. Roy loves you enough not to burden you with the pain of something you cannot change. A gift. You love Roy enough to want to take his pain on yourself. Again, a gift of love. That is a lot of love, my friend.”
Johnny smiled softly. “I suppose you’re right,” he admitted. “So... I guess the best way I can help him now is... step back and let Anton in.”
Taffy grinned, his eyes dancing wickedly. “Yes. I’m afraid you will simply have to share your best friend, John.”
With a shake of his head, Johnny mustered a wry laugh. “I guess I was actin’ like a bratty little kid, wasn’t I?”
Taffy nodded. “Don’t worry. It happens to all of us from time to time,” he said with an impish grin.
Johnny’s shoulders felt lighter, his mind clearer, and he knew it was time to say what he’d been thinking for a while now. “Taffy... I need to say thank you… to you... Newkirk and Carter... Anton...” The fingers of his good hand rubbed at the stitching along the edge of his sling. “I was thinkin’ this when I met y’all in Paris, but to be honest, I was a bit awestruck… I felt a little bit on the outside, out of my league... not sure I had the right to speak up…. But I’m not goin’ to pass up the chance this time. You see, I lost several good friends in Vietnam... my best friend from high school among them. I never knew I had a brother there... didn’t meet Roy till some years after he came home. Y’all made that possible. So... thank you.”
Taffy smiled gently. “You’re welcome. I can’t say it was a pleasure, John. But it was our honor.”
He started the car and they made their way back onto the street. For the next several minutes, the only conversation consisted of Johnny giving directions until at last they pulled up in front of the DeSoto house. Johnny climbed out, then moved around to the driver’s side and knocked on the window. Taffy rolled it down. “Thanks, Taffy… for helpin’ me get my head on straight.” He tapped on the car roof a couple times, then took a step back to watch Taffy drive away, before he turned and walked slowly to the front door.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Chapter 10
Author’s Note: With this chapter, I have a new person to thank! Rachel is a retired physical therapist who provided me with lots of good information about what Roy’s and Johnny’s PT would involve, and I really appreciate her help! Johnny hasn’t started his PT yet, but when he does, his therapist’s name will be Rachel.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Johnny cut a strange figure, to say the least, as he strolled nonchalantly through the halls of Rampart wearing a long overcoat with large pockets. He kept his left hand in one of those pockets. On the right, the coat covered up his sling and his injured right arm. Nita walked beside him, a bemused smile on her face. She glanced at her husband and resituated the coat before it could slide off his shoulder. “If Dixie catches you…” she murmured under her breath.
“She won’t… just act natural.”
“I’m not comfortable with this, Nashoba!” she hissed. “The rules are in place for a reason! And besides… it’s 80 degrees outside and you’re wearing an overcoat!” She giggled nervously. “You look ridiculous.”
“Some rules are made to be broken,” he said, and he bent to kiss her on the head, then pressed the elevator call button. “C’mon, Nita… you know this will be good for Roy. Remember old Bertha Bob? This was just what the doc ordered for her, and you know how much good it did her too.” He gave Nita his best puppy-dog eyes. “And I did give in to you about the wheelchair the other day.” He hadn’t told her about the excursion he’d taken with Roy, though he figured she’d find out eventually.
Nita’s gaze shifted side to side as if to make sure that no one was paying attention. “Fine then,” she said with a resigned sigh, which melted into a soft smile. “Let’s hurry. And if Dixie catches you… I had nothing to do with it!”
“I will take full responsibility.” He punctuated his promise with another kiss as they stepped into the elevator. Once the doors had closed, Johnny pulled his hand out of the pocket. Nestled in that hand was a sleepy little black and tan puppy. He held her up near his face, and her tongue flicked out to give him a puppy kiss. “Good girl,” he murmured, and he kissed her nose. “We’re almost there.” As the elevator slowed to a stop, he stowed the puppy back in his pocket.
He and Nita stepped out of the elevator and then turned in through the first door to find Roy and Anton. Roy’s face lit up at their arrival. His physical therapist, Nick Donovan, was just packing up to leave. “Remember, Captain DeSoto… you need to do the exercises we worked on three times a day to avoid contractures. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Got it, thanks, Nick.” After Donovan left the room, Roy shook his head wearily. “I think I’m going to hate that man before this is all over. Damn, but that workout hurt… and I hardly did anything.” He pushed the button to elevate the head of his bed so that he was sitting up, and gestured toward the chairs. “Hi, Nita… Hi, Johnny. C’mon in. Jo’s spendin’ the morning with the kids. She’ll bring ‘em by a little later.”
Anton got up. “I think I’ll take a little walk.”
“It’s ok, Anton,” Johnny said, and he graced Roy’s friend with a lopsided grin. “Stick around.” He wasn’t sure whether Anton had heard about his little attitude problem the other day, but he hoped not… he had gotten over it pretty quickly after the talk with Taffy.
Anton stood up anyway. “I’ll be right back… just going to get some coffee. Want anything?”
“I’ll have a cup,” Roy said. “But —”
Anton chuckled. “I know, I know… get it from the nurses’ lounge, not the vending machine. Lisa told me this morning she stocked up on the creamer you like.”
“Roy’s a big favorite around here,” Johnny quipped. “None of the nurses ever did that for me. I’ll have a cup too, though… thanks.”
As soon as Anton stepped out, Roy looked Johnny up and down. “All right, what’ve you got stashed in there?”
Johnny did his best to look innocent. “Who me?”
“Look, Johnny…” Roy rolled his eyes. “I know it’s not rainin’ or cold outside. There’s only one reason you’d be wearin’ that overcoat, and that’s to hide something. I’m surprised none of the nurses stopped you on the way in. Dixie really must be slippin’... So spill it… what’ve ya got? I’ve been hopin’ ya might bring me a Double Double*… but I don’t smell it.”
“Sorry,” Johnny said with a shrug. “Maybe tomorrow. But try this on for size.” He pulled the puppy out of his pocket and set it on Roy’s bed.
Johnny could see Roy’s emotions warring in his eyes. He’d resisted getting a new dog after Gus died some months back, and Johnny hoped he wouldn’t put up a fight about this pup. “She’s yours if you want her. Needs a good home. Her mama was a stray hanging around a neighbor’s ranch. She had a litter of pups a couple months ago, but rejected them. Vet’s been bottle feedin’ em. Anyway, this little girl got a clean bill of health and is ready for a new home. She’s the sweetest one of the lot. Whatcha say, Roy?”
Roy stared down at the puppy. She had curled up on his lap and promptly fallen asleep, but when he brushed his hand over her head and back, she opened her eyes and stretched, then rolled over to bare her tummy. Roy chuckled and gave her a belly rub. “Um… thanks, Johnny. Yeah… I’ll…” His eyes misted over and Johnny saw a tear just about to drop before he wiped it away. “Sorry… my emotions have been pretty wild. I tear up over just about anything. But yeah… I’ll take her.”
Johnny waggled an eyebrow. “Good… because Jo already said yes and the kids are pretty excited.”
“Figures.” Roy held the puppy up to look her over carefully. “So… does she have a name yet?”
“You get naming rights… though the kids all had suggestions. DJ wants Peanut... Megan says she should be called Princess Leia… and Chris likes… “ Johnny frowned and snapped his fingers. “Nita, what was it Chris wanted?”
“Gertie.” Nita stepped to Roy’s bedside and patted on the puppy.
“Oh yeah… Gertie… after the little girl in E.T.” Johnny sat down and leaned back in his chair. “So… whatcha thinkin’?”
“Well, can’t use Peanut, Princess Leia, or Gertie,” Roy said after a moment of consideration. “Don’t want to choose one of the kids over the other. Besides… I think she looks like a Calpurnia.”
“Calpurnia?” Johnny scoffed good-naturedly. “What kinda name is that for a little mutt?”
Nita brightened. “Julius Caesar’s wife, right?”
“Got it in one, Nita. Johnny, remember Gus?”
“How could I forget?” Johnny grumbled. “How many times did that crazy mutt eat my shoes?”
“Shouldn’t’ve left ‘em on the floor!” Roy shot back. “Anyway, his full name was Augustus — not that he knew it — after the Roman emperor. That’s how my dad always named our dogs when I was a kid… after Roman emperors or their wives. Calpurnia was the wife of Julius Caesar. And this little girl is hereby christened Calpurnia DeSoto.” He gently squeezed one of the puppy’s forepaws and raised an eyebrow. “And looks to me like she’ll grow into that name before too long… still, I’ll call her Callie for short.”
A noise at the door prompted Johnny to throw a sheet over Calpurnia, but it was only Anton returning with coffee. Roy pulled the sheet free and proudly presented the pup. “Anton, meet Calpurnia DeSoto… Callie for short.”
“Well, hello there, Callie-for-short… I’m pleased to meet you.” Anton set down the coffee cups, then patted the pup and laughed when she licked his hand. “Guess I’d better warn you, Doc Brackett is headed this way.”
Roy quickly passed Callie to Johnny, who hid her in the pocket just in time for the doctor to turn in at the door. “Hi, Doc,” they all chorused.
Brackett just stood there, staring at Johnny for a moment. “Interesting fashion statement, Johnny,” he finally said. “What look are you going for? Detective or secret agent?”
“Cool weather is coming, Doc… just trying to be ready.” Johnny winked at Roy and then nodded to Nita. “We were just on our way out… Roy, we’ll be back later. We have a little delivery to make to JoAnne, and then I’m taking my wife out to lunch.”
Brackett shook his head slowly. “You’re up to something… but everyone’s where they should be this time, so I don’t even want to know what it is. Now, get out of here before Dixie comes sniffing around.”
“Yessir,” Johnny agreed and then, with a grin and a wave, he beat a hasty retreat, Nita at his side.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Taffy appraised his appearance in the hotel mirror. His skin tingled from a liberal application of Old Spice aftershave and his silver hair was neatly combed. He straightened his jacket, then wet his hand to smooth down an errant strand of hair. “You’re looking quite dapper if I do say so myself, Taffy my boy,” he murmured. By the time he arrived at the hospital, Dixie would have received his flowers, along with an invitation to join him for dinner at Miceli’s after her shift ended this evening. He hoped she would agree.
They had enjoyed a simple lunch together on Saturday afternoon, and found that when time came for Taffy to pay the bill and deliver his date back to the hospital, they were not quite ready to part. Even so, he had pulled his rental car into the parking spot at Rampart precisely on time. Ever the Old-World gentleman, he had moved quickly around the car to open the door for Dixie, then offered his hand with a slight bow. “Allow me.”
He’d sent a mixed bouquet on Sunday with a simple note of appreciation: My Dearest Dixie, I hope you enjoyed our lunch as much as I did. You are a charming companion. Thank you. Affectionately Yours, Valentine ‘Taffy’ Matthews. When he’d seen her at the hospital, she’d smiled and thanked him and said that her only complaint was that they didn’t have enough time before she’d had to return to work.
For today, he had chosen a larger bouquet, this time with roses. He had never been taken with a woman the way he was with Dixie. She was a strong woman… some might call her outspoken, but Taffy appreciated her straightforward, honest nature. She was fiercely protective, and Taffy got the feeling she would stare down a tiger or an oncoming tank before she let it through to harm someone she loved. And underneath that tough shell beat a deeply compassionate heart. The tears she’d shed over Roy… Taffy did not consider them a sign of weakness by any means. No, they were simply evidence of a great capacity for love.
He smiled at his reflection and then gathered up his wallet and keys and headed out the door.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
“Delivery for Nurse McCall.”
Oh good… must be that shipment of rubber gloves… we’re running low. Dixie reached into a drawer of the registration desk for the inventory checklist, then looked up to see, not the medical supplies rep she had expected, but the delivery boy from Freddie Bloom’s, the florist down the street from the hospital, and he was carrying an absolutely gorgeous flower arrangement. Robby was actually the proprietor’s grandson and worked at the shop when he wasn’t in school. He was a good kid. Dixie didn’t think Frederika Blumenstein’s grandkids would dare be anything but good — their feisty grandmother would nip any nonsense in the bud but fast!
Freddie Bloom, as she was known by all her friends, was a much loved and celebrated fixture in the Carson community. Almost 70, she had opened her florist shop only five years ago after the death of her husband. From what Dixie had heard, she’d had trouble finding a bank willing to take the risk of giving her a start-up loan at her age, but she’d finally convinced one. With that loan and her husband’s life-insurance payout, she’d gone into business, and with hard work and careful management, she had paid the loan back within three years.
One thing Freddie Bloom was known for was her soft spot for first responders. Her husband had worked his entire career in the Los Angeles County Fire Department, starting out as a lineman and retiring in 1970 as a battalion chief. Freddie had spent years mothering Marty’s boys, and his death didn’t change a thing. She even kept an emergency scanner in the back room of her shop so she could keep track of them. When one of them ended up at Rampart, everyone knew an arrangement from Freddie Bloom’s would arrive within a day, and she offered a significant discount to the families of any first responders.
But this delivery was not for a firefighter, or any patient for that matter… it was for Dixie. And that was unusual. At least, it had been before Taffy arrived. She smiled at the young man and accepted the flowers with a soft, “Thank you.” She set them on the desk, then reached for her pocketbook to offer him a tip.
“Thank you, ma’am, but no need,” the young man said. “Sender already took care of it.”
Dixie pushed the bill toward him anyway. “Take it… I know your grandmother is always sending flowers over here at her own expense, so you can consider it my contribution to her cause.”
He grinned sheepishly and accepted the money. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said with a nod and a smile. “Have a nice day!”
The arrangement of daffodils and roses and baby’s breath was truly stunning. Dixie admired it for a moment before plucking the card from its holder. Of course, she was sure she knew who sent the flowers. When she glanced at the note inside the card, her suspicions were confirmed. She smiled softly and tucked the card back into its envelope, already looking forward to a dinner date with Taffy.
“Dana’s husband apologizing for forgetting their anniversary?” Kel’s voice interrupted Dixie’s reverie.
“Who… Dana?” Kel was talking about the young woman who usually took care of the front desk. She had been livid the other day over the forgotten anniversary, and everyone on staff knew it. “Oh no… these are for me. Dana got called in to her son’s school, so I’m filling in here till she gets back.”
Kel’s cheek twitched, a sure sign that he was troubled. “For you, huh? From whom?”
Dixie wasn’t sure if he sounded worried or incredulous, but she found either reaction perturbing. How long had she waited for Kel to rekindle that old flame they’d once enjoyed? Every once in a while, she thought there might still be a spark between them, but then he’d say or do something to douse it as thoroughly as 51’s men at a dumpster fire. Well, she wouldn’t give too much time to trying to work out his meaning just now. Instead, she just smiled impishly, her eyebrows quirking upwards and her head tilting to the side. “Well now, I’d say that’s a secret between the sender and me, Kel.”
When his brow wrinkled up in consternation at this response, he looked for all the world like a lost little boy. Regret filled Dixie at the sight — she never meant to hurt him.
“Oh,” he said, suddenly crestfallen. He drummed his knuckles on the desk for a moment, seeming to search for something more to say, then he grabbed a patient file, turned away, and walked on down the hall without another word.
Dixie sat back and returned the inventory checklist to the drawer. The ER was having a rare quiet day, and the few patients in the waiting area had signed in already. Calm before the storm, no doubt. I sure hope Dana gets back soon. She didn’t mind an occasional stint at the front desk, but she was a nurse, not a paper-pusher. Still, a little rest was nice every now and then.
She glanced at the beautiful flowers and smiled. The roses reminded her of a sunset over the Pacific, a soft yellowy-orange with a red tinge at the tips of the petals, the perfect complement to the cheerful bright yellow of the daffodils. She leaned in close and inhaled deeply, letting the spicy-sweet fragrance fill her senses and wash away the regret she’d felt at the disappointment on Kel’s face.
“Looks like someone has an admirer.”
Dixie looked up to see Joe Early standing across the desk from her with a cup of coffee. He took a sip, then leaned in to sniff at the flowers. “An admirer with good taste in flowers, at that.”
She smiled. “Maybe.”
Joe eyed her with concern. “And maybe this is why Kel is storming around the ER like a thundercloud about to burst?”
She just rolled her eyes and shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, Joe. It’s not like he’s stepped forward to declare himself.”
Joe stared down into his cup of coffee for a moment, then looked back up at her. “Maybe he never thought he needed to, Dix. You know, sometimes a man gets too comfortable with the status quo until something — or someone — comes in and shakes things up a bit.” He raised the cup to his lips and took another sip.
“And maybe a woman gets weary of the status quo, Joe — especially when it’s entirely unspoken! I don’t want to live the rest of my life on memories and vague hopes.” Her voice faded and her eyes brightened as Taffy came through the door and approached the desk.
“Dixie, my dear… You received the flowers, I see,” he said with a smile.
“Yes, thank you, Taffy. They are lovely… they’ve really brightened my day. And yes… I would be happy to join you for dinner. I get off shift at 6:00.” Dixie reached up to squeeze the hand he had held out over the desk. Her eyes met his and she quickly found herself getting lost in their depths.
“Ahem…”
Dixie startled and blushed when Joe cleared his throat, and she pulled her hand from Taffy’s grasp. “Sorry. Taffy… this is Dr. Joe Early. Joe, this is Taffy Matthews. He’s a friend of Roy’s come to visit… all the way from Paris, in fact.”
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Dr. Early.” Taffy said.
“Likewise, I’m sure.” Joe shook Taffy’s outstretched hand. Though Dixie could hear the barest hint of misgiving in Joe’s voice, his tone was friendly enough.
A page called Joe to Exam 3 just as he took a third sip of coffee. He set his cup down on the desk. “Never fails… always three sips. Well, I’ll leave you kids alone for now.” And with a shake of his head, he hurried back to his work.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Roy leaned back against his pillows, exhausted and sore from his first session of physical therapy. He knew that his therapist, Nick, had begun working with him while he was still in the coma, gently manipulating his limbs, massaging them and keeping the muscles from tightening up. Today’s session had not involved much more, though with Anton’s assistance, Nick also had Roy work on balance sitting up in the bed. The effort had worn him out.
He hadn’t felt the exhaustion this bad after his jaunt to the roof with Johnny a few days ago. Well… not right away, at least. After his talk with Anton, which was exhausting in itself, when he’d finally given in and accepted the morphine, he’d slept through the night and halfway into the next day.
But today, the adrenaline rush of an escape hadn’t been there to keep him going, and he felt wiped out. Not so much sleepy — though he knew the dose of morphine he had coming would knock him out but good. Problem was, friends had been coming in a steady stream to visit him all morning… most recently, Johnny and Nita (and Calpurnia); but before therapy, Chet and Marco had come up. Chief Stanley and his wife Emily weren’t far behind. He’d also seen Billy Folsom and Matthew Carter… and of course Andrew Carter and Newkirk and Anton had been there too. And it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
According to Jo, the families of the children they said he’d saved — a little girl named Sarah and a brother and sister named Luke and Hannah — had come by as well, bringing with them a couple of gift baskets that now sat on a counter across the room. Thankfully, Lisa had headed them off at the pass, explaining that he wasn’t up to seeing any new faces at the moment. Maybe someday he’d agree to meet with them, but well… just now, everything was still too raw.
Try as he might, he remembered none of the incident that had landed him here. So many rescues over the years, seared into his memory, and this… his last rescue… was simply gone. He had a basic idea what had happened of course — his friends had filled him in, and he’d seen a couple of the newspaper articles they’d saved for him. But it was like it had happened to someone else… well… except for the very up-close-and-personal fact that he was now stuck in a bed at Rampart. Perhaps it was better that way. He had no real desire to remember the hours spent alone in that basement, buried under the rubble. Even so, he couldn’t help wondering about it.
When he’d brought it up with Jo, she had leaned over and kissed him, then said softly, “Think of it this way, Roy… maybe not remembering is a gift.” He knew she was right, and Doc Brackett said most likely, he never would remember. So why did it keep bugging him?
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and made him cringe. He really didn’t want any more visitors. But when Dixie stepped in with a fast food bag, his mouth started to water and he began to reconsider. He’d been cleared to resume a regular diet, but Rampart’s offerings couldn’t hold a candle to what he suspected that paper bag contained.
“Hi, Roy. I thought maybe you’d join me for lunch today.” She set the bag on his table. “Johnny saw me on the way out — strangest thing, dressed up in that overcoat — and mentioned you had a craving, and he said you like the Double Double with extra spread… and that you don’t like the fries. Which is just as well because this burger alone probably has more grease than you should have in a week.”
“Thanks, Dix. Pull up a chair. Not sure what I did to deserve this feast, but I’m sure not complainin’!”
“You mean you prefer this to Rampart fare?” She winked. “Because if you’d rather, I can just fetch you a tray…” She sat down and passed him a strawberry milkshake. “Maybe your friend Taffy would like that burger.”
Roy raised an eyebrow… something in her eyes when she said Taffy’s name made him wonder. Maybe he wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t seen that same something in Taffy’s eyes just the other day, or if the guys hadn’t told him how Taffy’d been a bit dreamy lately… actin’ like a kid with his first crush. But he would wait to ask her about it… just now wasn’t the right time. Instead he decided to go along with the joke. “Oh, no you don’t!” He pulled his burger close. “You don’t give my In ‘n’ Out away to anyone!” He took a bite and closed his eyes, savoring it.
Dixie set her burger down and wiped her mouth with a napkin, then reached to squeeze Roy’s hand. “It’s good to see you smile like that,” she remarked quietly.
“Like what?” He took another bite and then sipped at the thick milkshake.
“A real smile… it reached your eyes. Drove out those shadows we’ve all been seeing for the last few days.”
“Guess I am feelin’ better at the moment… had a headache before you came in, but it’s gone now.” He finished his burger in a few more bites, then leaned back in bed. “So Dix…” He scrutinized her for a moment, trying to decide if the time was right. What the hell… might as well ask. Tell me what’s up with you an’ Taffy. The guys say he keeps talkin’ about you… an’ your eyes lit up when you mentioned him a minute ago.”
Dixie shrugged. “Oh… I don’t know, Roy.” But she also blushed and looked down at her fingernails, which Roy figured for a sign he was close to the mark. Finally, she looked up, and Roy thought her eyes had never looked quite so soft before. “Taffy Matthews is a very sweet, very kind gentleman whose company I greatly enjoy. I can’t tell you anything beyond that just yet.” She smiled at him. “And Roy… I can tell you’re barely keeping those eyes open. How about we hang out the do-not-disturb sign for a while so you can take a nap? Lisa tells me it’s been like Grand Central Station in here today.”
“Pretty much.” Roy stretched and yawned. “Sounds good to me, Dix. Thanks for lunch. Sure beats hospital food.”
“Any time, Roy. Now… back to business. What’s your pain level?” He answered honestly, gauging it at about a seven. Dixie fussed over him for a minute, checking and recording his vitals, and administering a dose of morphine. When she smoothed the hair out of his eyes, he felt a bit like a little kid getting tucked in by his mom.
For a fleeting second before his eyes drifted closed, he thought he saw tears forming in her eyes, but the morphine worked quickly, and he was too groggy to ask her what was the matter.
He felt her squeeze his hand, but by the time she stepped away from his bed, he was sound asleep.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Mike Stoker stood outside Roy’s door, hesitant to enter. He’d almost come to see Roy several times over the last few days since he’d heard Roy was awake. But each time he was just about ready to go, he’d found something else that urgently required his attention. The broken chain on Jacob’s bike… the dead battery in Ian’s hearing aid… evidence of a mouse in the kitchen…
Finally, late in afternoon, when he woke up from a long nap necessitated by a busy shift overnight, Beth had informed him in no uncertain terms that he was going to the hospital before he did anything else. “Everything else can wait, love. You need to see Roy.” She had pushed a tin of pecan raisin cookies into his hands and shoved him out the door with a kiss and a gentle smile. “Give him our love.”
And then he’d had to wait. A sign on the door directed him to visit the nurses’ station before entering, and the nurse had explained that Roy was napping, but would likely be awake and ready for a visit before long. And so Mike had passed the better part of an hour in the waiting room, alternating between sitting in a hard plastic chair and pacing the floor, the tin of cookies clenched tight in his hand. And he’d almost bolted a few times.
In fact, he had finally made up his mind to leave — had just punched the elevator call button — when the nurse stepped out of Roy’s room. Apparently, she remembered him and why he was there, because she stopped him just before he stepped into the elevator. “Don’t go, Mr. Stoker! He’s awake now, and he’d like you to come in.”
Mike took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then stuck his head in the door. “Hey, Roy… up for a visitor?”
“Mike… I was hopin’ you’d come by.” Roy beckoned him in. “Sorry you had to wait… Lisa told me you’d been here a while.”
Mike stepped through the door and took a seat. He opened the cookie tin and set it on the swivel table. “With love from Beth.”
Roy snagged a cookie and took a bite, then gestured for Mike to help himself. “Delicious… thank her for me, will ya?”
“Yeah… sure thing,” Mike said. He took a cookie for himself, more because eating gave him a reason not to say anything than because he was hungry. He had never been a talkative man, and he liked to consider his words carefully before speaking them. Make every word count, his dad had always told him when he was a kid.
Before he could say anything, though, Roy jumped in. “Stop it, Mike.”
“Stop what?” He took another bite of his cookie.
“I see the look in your eyes… you’re blaming yourself. Well, it wasn’t your fault, so stop already.”
“It was my shift.” He had already been over it with Beth and her logic had been unassailable, but Mike’s conscience didn’t pay much heed to logic.
“So you blame Johnny for the time you broke your arm when you covered for him, back when he got the flu?”
“Of course not, Roy… that’s —” His voice faded and he sat back. “Point taken.”
“It happens, Mike. Part of the job… a possibility we live with every day we walk into work. It stinks… but it’s not your fault.” Roy pushed the tin of cookies towards him. “Here… have another one.”
“Thanks, Roy.” His shoulders felt lighter than they had since the accident. “Wanna watch the game?”
“Rams playin’?” Roy reached for the remote.
“Nope… Raiders… against the Dolphins. Sorry.”
Roy clicked on the television anyway. “Well, maybe we’ll get to watch the Dolphins kick the Raiders’ butts.” He found the station, just in time for kickoff.
Mike laughed. “We can hope!” He snagged that second cookie and settled in to watch the game in companionable silence with his friend.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Chapter 11
Author’s Note: This chapter is a bit shorter than my usual. Originally, I had been going to end with more Taffy and Dixie and Kel, but I decided that might lessen the emotional impact. No worries — they will return in the next chapter, and I think you will enjoy what I have planned! The good news is, that means Chapter 12 is already well underway. I want to let readers know in advance, the last part of this chapter gets somewhat intense, as it deals with Roy’s first meeting with Dr. Richardson, Rampart’s resident expert in the newly-recognized (at that time) Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. To paraphrase a line often heard from Roy in Emergency episodes, I am not a therapist and I don’t pretend to be. However, I have been present in loved ones’ therapy sessions and I have consulted with a therapist on this chapter.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Roy awoke suddenly, his heart pounding and his breaths coming in short, quick gasps. He threw off his covers and was about to try to stand when an arm came over his chest to hold him down. He tried in vain to pull away. “Let me go! Gotta help Johnny!”
“Roy. You were dreaming. Johnny’s fine.” The calm, soothing voice steadied him, and now instead of pushing the hand away, he latched onto it. “Calming breaths now, and open your eyes.”
He drew in a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly through his mouth, as he let reality settle in. Rampart… building collapse… my leg... He blinked open his eyes to see Mike hovering over him. “Thanks, pal,” he said quietly. “I’m all right now.”
Three weeks after his injury, this scenario had become something of a routine. Roy’s nightmares had eased off initially after he talked with Anton, but then they started up again with a vengeance. Sometimes he would try to get up before he could orient himself, and that’s why his friends were taking it in turn to make sure he wasn’t alone at night. Even Johnny had been cleared to return for an occasional night, with a solemn promise to instigate no more unapproved excursions.
Mike moved his arm and pressed the button to raise the head of Roy’s bed so he was sitting up.
“Do me a favor, will ya?” Roy grunted. “Tell Brackett… I’m ready. I’ll talk to Richardson.”
Up to this point, he had refused whenever the suggestion was made that he meet with the psychiatrist. “I don’t need a shrink,” he would growl. After all, he’d managed after ‘Nam, with just his mom and Jo and Gus-pup, and eventually, his work. A few nightmares and the occasional flashback didn’t make him crazy, right?
But now the nightmares kept getting worse and he wasn’t sure he could handle it this time — especially since he could no longer immerse himself in his work. It was time to admit that he needed help.
“You got it.” Mike patted on his arm. “First thing in the morning when he comes on shift, I’ll let him know.”
“Thanks.” Roy grabbed the remote and turned on the television, adjusting the volume down so it wouldn’t bother his friend. This was another part of the routine — after a nightmare, Roy needed something mindless to help him relax. Eventually he would drift off again and would hopefully sleep the rest of the night without any more nightmares intruding.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
“Hey, Roy… time to wake up!” A shake to his shoulder yanked an unwilling Roy back to consciousness, or at least to semi-consciousness.
“Knock if off, Junior,” he groaned. “Tones haven’t sounded yet.” He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but Johnny was persistent.
“C’mon, Roy… we’re not at 51’s. Nick’ll be here soon to take you to therapy.”
“Figures,” Roy said with a yawn as he blinked his eyes open and looked around. Apparently, he had slept through the changing of the guard. Mike had left for work, and Johnny had arrived to go with him to PT. “For once I was havin’ a good dream,” he grumbled.
“Yeah? Tell me about it while you get dressed.” Johnny tossed Roy a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt.
Roy pulled himself up with his good hand and got to work getting ready for the day. He’d become fairly proficient at dressing himself one-handed, but he would be really glad to get the cast off in a few more weeks. “First time I met Taffy… in ‘Nam, couple weeks before I was captured. I was havin’ a rough time… just a kid, really… not quite 19. We weren’t officially in the war yet, but there were thousands of us over there in an advisory capacity. I enlisted on my 18th birthday and trained as a medic. Got sent over to help the docs train Vietnamese medics, and of course we ended up treatin’ their wounded. Before I got over there, I had no idea what war was… the damage human beings could do to one another. It was really gettin’ to me. Then Captain Rick Landers, one of the older docs on base, told me about this little Welsh chaplain and his orphanage, said I had to see it to believe it.” He smiled faintly at the memory. “I resisted at first… told Landers I had no interest in spendin’ my free afternoon with a religious nut. But he wouldn’t let it go… kept talkin’ about how happy the kids would be and how he could really use my help — he’d agreed to do medical checkups on a new batch of kids before the girls were sent to a convent in Saigon. Well, Landers finally looked me up and down and said, ‘Corporal, I outrank you. You’re coming with me and that’s an order.’“ Roy shook his head as he carefully leaned forward to inspect the dressing on his stump. “I was steamed, but I had no choice. Colonel Pinchuk backed him up. The Captain bought out all the chocolate bars at the PX and produced a Frisbee from somewhere…” He chuckled. “I think he lifted it from Jimmy Holden… and we signed out a Jeep from the motor pool and were on our way.”
“Hang on… let me get you in the chair.” Transferring to the chair was something Roy wouldn’t be able to do on his own for a while yet, not until the cast was off and he could bear some weight on his right arm. For now, his therapy was focused on balance, keeping his remaining leg strong, and avoiding contracture in his right knee and hip. Roy hated every minute of it, and he’d cussed Nick out more than once. Nick didn’t seem to care. In fact, Roy got the feeling he thrived on it. The angrier Roy got, the harder Nick worked him. By the end of a session, Roy was wiped out. Once he’d even dozed off in the wheelchair on the way back to his room. But he had to admit, the hard work made him feel better at the end of the day.
Johnny stuck his arms under Roy’s armpits and lifted him, just as he’d done when they made their escape, then pivoted him and set him back down in the chair. “So… your dream?” he asked as he draped the blanket over Roy’s lap.
“Yeah… well, we hadn’t been at the orphanage more ‘n a minute before the kids swarmed us. The boys all knew Landers pretty well… seems he’d been there before… and most of ‘em went straight to him, practically bowled him over.” Roy chuckled. “Guess he’d brought chocolate enough times they expected it. The girls hung back, most of ‘em quiet and shy. But one little girl — Mai Thi, her name was — came right up to me. Couldn’t have been more’n four years old. She tugged on my pants and raised her arms and I picked her up… and she didn’t let me put her down all day. I wasn’t much help to Landers after all, but he didn’t mind. He said just lovin’ on Mai Thi was my job and I’d better do it right.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Man… he knew just what I needed. Bein’ with those kids… holdin’ Mai Thi... An’ that memory… it’s part of what kept me goin’ at Camp 208… I —” But his voice trailed off. He’d said more than he meant to.
Johnny eyed him, but didn’t push for more details, for which Roy was grateful. Part of him felt guilty… Johnny only wanted to help. Roy didn’t want to burden him with the knowledge of what happened to him… but maybe knowing would help him understand. “Listen, Junior,” he said gruffly, unsure of himself and yet committing anyway, “I’m gonna talk with Richardson… not exactly sure when. But… well… if you wanna be there, I… I guess I’m willin’.”
Johnny squeezed his shoulder and gave a brisk nod, and Roy thought maybe he blinked away tears. “You got it, Roy. I’ll be there.”
Roy nodded. “Thanks, Junior.”
“Jo coming too?”
The question caught Roy off guard. On the one hand, he knew his wife had been waiting a long time for him to share… she’d been his rock since before he ever came home. She’d loved him without reserve, never giving him a chance to slip through the cracks like so many other vets. Homelessness, addiction, suicide… There but for the grace of God go I, Roy thought. Jo had helped him bear the burden of the dark cloud that had overshadowed him ever since his return from the war; she kept it from completely overwhelming him. She could handle knowing what had happened. He needed to tell her. But dammit, the thought terrified him. He couldn’t take seeing the pain in her eyes as her heart broke on his behalf. It would break him in a way the Cong had never managed. Johnny stared at him intently, expecting an answer, but Roy wasn’t sure what to say. When Nick walked in, just shook his head and left it at that — he knew Johnny wouldn’t push for an explanation in front of the therapist.
“Good morning, Roy… Johnny! Sorry I’m late… Kimmy had a meltdown when I dropped her off at preschool this morning.” Nick was a single father with a seven-year-old son and a three-year-old daughter, and anyone who knew him knew how devoted he was to them. Even when their antics drove him nuts, his eyes still shone with pride whenever he talked about them, and he had proudly shared the folder of photos he kept in his wallet.
“Any delay to one of your torture sessions suits me just fine,” Roy growled. “Let’s get this over with.”
Nick cackled, sounding for all the world like the Wicked Witch of the West, as he wheeled Roy into the hall. He affected a thick German accent. “Chust vait till you see vat tortures I haff prepared for you today!”
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
While Roy napped after lunch, done in by his session with Nick, Johnny read. He’d picked up the book that Roy had thrown at him that first night — Lonely on the Mountain — and quickly become engrossed. He generally eschewed westerns, uninterested in their stereotypical portrayals of Native Americans — sometimes noble, sometimes bloodthirsty, sometimes plain ignorant… but almost invariably a savage in need of taming by the white man — but L’Amour’s use of language captivated him, drawing him in and compelling him to keep turning the pages.
“Hello?” The voice startled Johnny, pulling him out of his reverie, and he looked up to see a face peering into the room from the hallway. “My apologies… I knocked, but no one answered. I’m Dr. Keith Richardson… I’m here to meet with Roy DeSoto.”
Johnny set the book down and stood. “Dr. Richardson.” With a sheepish glance down at his right arm in its splint, he stretched out his left hand to shake instead. “John Gage. Roy and I are best friends… used to be partners at work… he invited me to sit in on your session with him.” He gave Roy a sideways glance. “He’s… um… pretty wiped out from PT, but he’s been sleepin’ a couple of hours now. Should I wake him?”
“I’m awake,” Roy mumbled groggily. He blinked open his eyes and sat up. “Hullo,” he said, looking up at Richardson. “Roy DeSoto.”
Johnny could see the wariness in his friend’s gaze. Before today, Roy had been adamant about not needing any help from Brackett’s colleague, and the fact that he’d changed his mind and agreed to a session with Richardson told Johnny how very much his nightmares were bothering himself. Still, Roy clearly didn’t like this. Richardson definitely had his work cut out for him.
Unfazed, the doctor took hold of Roy’s wheelchair and brought it over to the bed. “If you don’t mind, I think my office is more conducive to a good discussion than this room. I’d like to take you downstairs for our session.”
Roy just shrugged. “Fine with me.” He allowed Johnny to help him into the chair, but kept silent as they left the room and headed for Richardson’s office.
Richardson didn’t try to make him talk. Instead, he started up a conversation with Johnny. “What did you do to your hand?”
Johnny explained his injury and the two surgeries he had undergone… the first just a week after Roy was injured, and the second about a week and a half later. “I don’t have much sensation in the hand yet, but the doc says give the nerves time to heal.” He shrugged. “I’ll be OK.”
They took the elevator to the ground floor, and soon Dr. Richardson steered Roy’s wheelchair through the doorway into his office and parked him opposite a large window. Outside, a Japanese maple with a profusion of bright red leaves dominated their view, along with a couple of bird feeders hung from its branches.
Johnny’s eyes roved around the homey office as he took a seat on a worn leather sofa, at the end closest to Roy. Soothing natural shades dominated, the walls painted in a pale green, with a framed painting of a sandy beach and a couple of palm trees taking up much of one wall. The sofa wasn’t much to look at, but it was quite comfortable, though Johnny imagined it would be too soft for Roy to sit in easily at this point. From a speaker in the corner came the recorded sound of waves lapping the shore, a nice complement to the painting. Behind Richardson’s large cherrywood desk, several nicknacks were arrayed along the length of a shelf attached to the wall. In the middle, a tall bamboo vase, holding a bouquet of dried flowers, commanded attention.
One glance at Roy out of the corner of his eye showed Johnny that his friend’s attention had been drawn to the vase as well. In fact he was staring at it, his mouth hanging slightly open, eyes wide, his good hand clenching the armrest of his wheelchair so hard his knuckles had gone stark white. “Roy? You all right, Pally?”
Roy didn’t answer. Richardson quickly moved behind the desk and took the vase down, setting it out of sight, then came over to Roy. He crouched in front of Roy’s chair but didn’t touch him. “Roy. You’re safe,” he said in a calm, measured tone. “You’re in my office at Rampart Hospital.”
Now that the vase was out of sight, Roy’s eyes darted back and forth without focusing on anything. Johnny reached for his wrist to check his pulse. He could tell it was racing, but Roy yanked his arm away before Johnny could get a count.
Richardson kept on talking, and gradually, Roy calmed. Then he gestured for Johnny to try again. “Roy, John is going to check you out now, get your pulse. You are safe.”
This time, Roy didn’t pull away. Instead of roving aimlessly, his gaze dropped to his lap. Johnny wrapped his slender fingers around his wrist and took the pulse. Still a little fast, but not too bad. Roy’s fingers no longer clenched the armrest, but he was sweaty and his face was pale. “Sorry,” he croaked.
“Why are you apologizing, Roy?” The crisis over, Dr. Richardson moved to the sofa, seating himself next to Johnny. He produced a small notepad and a pen from an inside pocket of his jacket.
Roy stared out the window, avoiding eye contact. “Didn’t mean to flip out, but —.”
Johnny leaned forward, eager to reassure his friend. “It wasn’t —”
But Richardson cut him off with a hand to his arm. “Let’s let Roy finish, John.”
“The vase. Dao had one kinda like it on his desk… kept fresh cut flowers in it all the time. Probably needed ‘em to keep the stench of the camp at bay. I saw yours… an’ suddenly it was like I was back there… gettin’ called to the Commandant’s office… it was never a good thing.”
“Were you called in there frequently?” Richardson set the notepad down next to him and leaned forward, listening intently.
Roy shook his head and wiped a hand on his blanket. “Couple of times. Got caught sneakin’ out of my assigned hut… one of th’ men in another hut was pretty sick an’ needed a medic. Guards beat me, then brought me to the commandant… he gave me two days back in the tiger cage th’ first time… three days the next.”
“Back in the tiger cage?” Richardson’s eyebrow quirked upward.
“Yeah. I spent the first… oh… I don’t know how long — weeks? months? The days all just ran together — locked in one. They were nasty things, built so you couldn’t sit up proper, and you also couldn’t quite lie down.” He shuddered, and Johnny followed his gaze as it settled on a hummingbird at the feeder outside the window. “The day I got out… that’s the day I keep relivin’ in my dreams.”
Richardson nodded. “Happened to me after Korea,” he confided. “Served in an evac hospital and on the front lines. Came home to nightmares about what I saw there.”
The doctor was staring out the window too, his gaze seemingly distant. But Johnny got the feeling he was actually watching Roy carefully. He also observed that now Roy’s head had turned and his attention was fixed on Richardson. Johnny kept his mouth shut and sat back and listened.
“Yeah, sounds like what’s happenin’ to me,” Roy said, and Johnny noted that his guarded expression had dropped away and he was making eye contact with Richardson now. “I was captured just a couple of months after I got to ‘Nam. Camp 208 was a brutal place. It’s been almost 20 years, but now it seems like when I go to sleep, I’m back there.” His eyes went back to the hummingbird as he continued his story, detailing his recurring nightmare for Richardson and Johnny.
Johnny felt something crumble inside him as he listened to Roy’s story. Everyone knew life had been hell for the POWs in Vietnam, but somehow he’d never really thought about what that might have entailed for his friend. Anger and sorrow and hurt exploded inside him, and his heart broke over what his friend had suffered. At the same time, his admiration for Roy swelled to practically bursting. What kind of strength had it taken for his friend — his brother — to survive that hellhole, to come back home and find a way to live again, to thrive even?
Roy kept talking. Johnny soon found he couldn’t sit still while he listened. His fingers twitched and curled into fists, his heel nervously tapped the floor, and finally he just got up and started pacing.
It took a moment for him to realize that Roy had stopped talking and was staring at him. “You OK, Junior?”
“Uh… yeah,” he said quietly, and he folded his lanky form back onto the sofa. “Sorry. Go on.”
And Roy continued. He told about the squalor of the camp, the over-crowded huts, the rampant disease. He shared about Anton and Carter, and the hope they’d brought of escape. And then the escape itself — the trauma of having to shoot one of the soldiers trying to prevent them, of knowing he had taken a man’s life, and finally coming home to JoAnne with a busted jaw, thankful that the injury gave him an excuse not to talk. It was all Johnny could do to stay sitting there, listening quietly, but he didn’t want to interrupt again. He understood now why Roy hadn’t wanted to tell him, why he had kept it bottled inside him all these years, why his eyes had grown so shadowed at the suggestion of Jo hearing the story too.
When he was finished, Roy sat quietly, looking pale and utterly spent. Johnny wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. How should one respond to such a story? ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t even come close. There were no words for something like this. Finally he got up again and moved to Roy’s side and clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Damn,” he breathed out in a ragged whisper. “I never imagined.”
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Roy reached up to clasp his friend’s hand. Johnny’s concern touched him deeply, and he knew it was a good thing he had finally shared with him. “I know, Junior. It’s OK.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, exhaling in a long slow sigh before he continued. For now, he directed his words to Johnny, almost forgetting that Richardson was present too. “When I got home, I had the nightmares all the time… saw it happening again every time I closed my eyes. But gradually they eased off. Never fully went away, but it got to where there were months in between. Now they’re every night again, and they’re gettin’ worse. Mostly, it’s just straight memories, whether the prison camp or tough rescues you and I were part of. Every once in awhile, though, my brain mixes it all up. Last night, I dreamed we were back at 51’s, Johnny… called out to rescue a trapped kid. I was about to climb in the squad when suddenly I was back at Camp 208 and there you were in front of me, locked in one of the tiger cages. I tried to get to you, but I couldn’t move an inch… like my feet were encased in cement. That happens a lot… dreams where I can’t move, can’t do anything but watch while someone I care about —” His voice broke off and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the moisture from his eyes.
He turned anguished eyes to the psychiatrist. “It’s gotta stop, Doc. I can’t keep goin’ like this, and I don’t have months to wait for it to ease up… when I get home, my wife shouldn’t have to sit up nights worryin’ I’m gonna fall flat on my face if I try gettin’ up in my sleep!”
Richardson had listened silently to Roy’s recitation, taking notes and nodding from time to time. Now he looked up. “Roy, normally I would tell you this at the beginning of the session, but we got things a bit out of order today. I want to assure you that anything you say or do in this office will be kept in the strictest confidence.” He eyed John. “And I expect anyone who attends a session with you will adhere to this as well.”
“Of course, Doc,” Johnny agreed. “Roy knows he can trust me with anything.”
Roy nodded.
“Now… you are aware that I have talked with your wife, yes?” The doctor spun his pen absentmindedly between his fingers.
“Yeah… she told me.”
“Would I be right in describing Mrs. DeSoto as a strong woman?” Richardson asked.
Thoughts of JoAnne brought a smile to Roy’s lips. “The strongest… the very best.”
“At my suggestion,” Richardson continued, “she wrote you a short letter.” He moved to his desk and took an envelope from a drawer. Written on the back of it, in Jo’s handwriting, was Roy’s name. “I’d like to share it with you now.”
Roy leaned forward slightly, curious, but also afraid of what the letter might say. Had Jo decided she’d finally had enough? Had his injuries made him too much of a burden for her? His mind told him that couldn’t be true, but dread still settled like a rock in the pit of his stomach. He reached for the envelope, but his hand stopped, trembling, and then pulled back. “I… I can’t… You read it… please.”
With a nod, Richardson settled himself back on the sofa, then opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. He cleared his throat and began to read.
My dearest Roy,
I love you with all my heart and I am behind you 100 percent. When you came back from Vietnam, things were rough, but we got through it together. You survived and you fought hard to get your life back — to make the future we always dreamed of a reality. I know that you have the strength to do it again.
Richardson looked up from the letter and met Roy’s eyes with a gaze that seemed to pierce right into his heart, then looked down and kept reading. Roy closed his eyes and listened, letting his wife’s words soak into his heart.
Whatever you need from me to help you get through this, I will be there for you. One thing I’ve seen throughout all the years we’ve been married is, when we stick it out through the tough times, we discover richer blessings than we ever imagined. One look at DJ tells me this is true. I’ve spent more than half my life loving you, Roy DeSoto… whatever struggles may come our way, I’m going to keep loving you for the rest of it.
With love, JoAnne
The rock in his stomach dissolved. Roy only realized how tight his muscles had been now when they loosened and he slumped forward. Ever alert, Johnny caught him. Roy clung to his best friend’s arm and wept.
They allowed him to cry until his tears were spent. Gripping Johnny for support, he finally sat back up, conflicting emotions raging within him. On one hand, he felt embarrassed, ashamed of himself for losing control. On the other hand, the release of pent-up sorrow and fear had left him feeling lighter, freer somehow.
“Roy, before I call an orderly to take you back to your room, I’d like to discuss briefly what your goals are. What do you want to achieve in meeting with me?” Richardson’s pen now hovered again over his notepad as he awaited Roy’s answer.
Roy frowned and furrowed his brow as he considered his answer. “I want the nightmares to stop,” he finally said. “But… I think that only scratches the surface.” He nodded toward JoAnne’s letter, which now lay on the coffee table in between him and Richardson. “I want to be the man my wife believes I am… to have that strength she talks about.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes to stop the tears from spilling again. “Dammit… not makin’ a very good start, am I?”
Richardson smiled. “On the contrary. I’d say you’re making an excellent start.” He took the envelope from the table and handed it over to Roy.
“Thanks, Doc.” Roy wrapped his fingers around the envelope. He knew he would be reading Jo’s letter over and over, that he would treasure her words as long as he lived.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Chapter 12
Author’s Note: While working on this chapter, I had the opportunity to attend the 68th Choctaw Nation Labor Day Festival in Tuskahoma, Oklahoma. The word Tuskahoma is an Anglicized version of Tushka Homma, meaning “Red Warrior.” Used in this sense, the word red (homma) signifies honor and power and strength. I kept imagining Johnny in this setting. I also thought of Nita whenever I heard Choctaw hymn-singing. She would be right in there with the singers and would never need to consult the hymn book for the words! I may just have to write a story sometime that involves Johnny and Nita taking the DeSotos to Oklahoma to attend this event.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Glossary
French - English
Ma chérie - my dear, my sweetheart
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Taffy sat on the balcony of his hotel room, smoking his pipe and ruminating over the last couple of weeks. The fragrance of cherry tobacco hung in the air around him, soaking into his senses. He hadn’t intended to stay this long in Los Angeles, but a Miss Dixie McCall had managed to work her way into his heart and now he dreaded the thought of leaving.
He’d taken some ribbing from Peter and Andrew, of course. They’d been quick to figure out what was up. Peter caught on first. Oh, Taffy supposed he hadn’t been all that subtle, what with the daily flower deliveries, his sudden penchant for dressing to the nines, and his clean-shaven, cologne-doused face.
Newkirk, still engaged in his war with Dixie over his smokes, had sworn up and down that he couldn’t figure out what Taffy saw in such a crusty old bird as Nurse McCall. Taffy chuckled at the memory. Every day at the hospital, Newkirk would light up… and Dixie must have had some homing instinct or sixth sense that brought her along before he’d had more than a drag or two, to pluck the cigarette out of his hands and dispose of it post-haste while he stood there cursing and spluttering.
Then, a couple days ago when Taffy had driven Carter and Newkirk both to the airport and seen them off at the gate, the last thing Peter had done was lean in and slap him on the shoulder as he waggled an eyebrow. “Go get ‘er, Padre!” he’d said. “Damn the torpedoes an’ full speed ahead an’ all that rot!” Then, with a wink and a wave, he’d shouldered his carry-on and headed down the jetway with Andrew at his side.
Now Taffy reached into his pocket and withdrew an antique ring box, opening it to reveal a beautiful diamond solitaire in a platinum setting. This stunning engagement ring had belonged to his mother; it had arrived early this afternoon, by express mail from Paris. A full week ago, he had contacted Phan, the Vietnamese orphan he’d adopted, and asked him to send it right away.
You old fool, he thought. You’ve known the woman less than three weeks… You’ve never been one to rush into things like this. Then again, here he was in his 70s and never married. He could hardly be accused of rushing. And he’d had enough time to consider what he wanted in a wife to recognize the right woman when he saw her. Dixie truly had the most beautiful soul he had ever encountered. She was like an oasis in the desert, a cup of cool water to a desperately thirsty man. For Dixie, he would even consider leaving his adopted home in Paris and moving to this busy, inelegant city of Los Angeles. He snapped the ring box closed and put it back in his pocket. Yes, this evening he would ask her. He had reserved a table at Miceli’s, and as soon as she came off her shift, he would take her to dinner.
He patted on the box in his pocket, then got up and went into his room, sliding the door closed behind him. No need to wait until this evening to go to Rampart — he really should visit Roy, after all. And if he should happen to see Dixie, well, perhaps she would be ready for a break… coffee, or maybe a milkshake from the cafeteria. He checked his reflection, combed his fingers through his hair, and then hurried out the door.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Kelly Brackett glanced at Dixie, then quickly returned his attention to the chart he was supposedly studying. He had actually discharged the patient twenty minutes ago and had been bringing the chart back to Dana when he saw the kid from Freddie Blooms coming in with another flower arrangement. “Delivery for Nurse McCall” was becoming a familiar phrase around here lately. Hell… with what that Welshman spent on flowers, he could probably cover the cost of the new pediatrics wing the Board wanted to build.
He had to go home eventually, didn’t he, like his friends Newkirk, Carter, and Anton? If he would just get on the plane back to Paris, things could get back to normal around here. Taffy Matthews was just a distraction, right? Kel glanced up again at Dixie. She wore a blissful smile as she leaned in close and breathed in the fragrance of the roses… red roses this time.
Suddenly Kel had images in his mind of Dixie walking down the jetway with Taffy… leaving Rampart for the delights of Paris. The thought saddened him deeply. Rampart wouldn’t be the same without her. Hell, I won’t be the same without her! Suddenly, his future seemed very bleak indeed.
He startled slightly at the light touch of a hand to his shoulder. “Did you expect her to wait, Kel?” Joe Early’s softly spoken words felt like a punch to the gut.
“I’ve been a fool, Joe. All these years… I never thought I needed to hurry… never imagined the status quo might change.” Kel sighed and tossed the patient file into the tray for Dana to deal with when she returned from her lunch break. “I guess it’s true what they say… you never really appreciate what you had until you’ve lost it.”
“What do they know?” Joe scoffed, keeping his voice low enough that only Kel could hear him. “And since when did you roll over and surrender like this? C’mon, Kel… at least let her know what you’re feeling. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?”
Kel’s eyes narrowed as he thought it over. “You know, Joe… you’re absolutely right.”
His jaw set in determination, his gaze firmly fixed on Dixie, he was about to lope around the desk and to her side to talk with her, but his heart sank when she looked up, beaming — not at him, but at Taffy Matthews himself, walking up to the desk with a besotted grin on his face. “So much for speaking up,” he mumbled to Joe. “I need to talk with Johnny and Roy anyway.” He turned on his heel and hurried down the hall in the opposite direction.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Kel found Johnny and Roy in the cafeteria with Nita and Jo and the DeSoto kids, enjoying milkshakes all around. DJ DeSoto sat perched on his godfather’s lap, a teddy bear on the table in front of him and a dusting of crumbs on his chin. A platter half-filled with cookies sat on the small table — they looked much tastier than anything the cafeteria had to offer. Roy was looking much better today, though his eyes looked a bit distant. Still, he was clearly engaged with his family, happy to have them around him. Kel noted that Johnny had removed his sling and set it on the table, probably to make it easier to hold his godson. He decided to let the matter slide for now and headed for the cafeteria line instead. He could talk with the men later — he didn’t want to disrupt the happy gathering.
He had intended to approach them over a week ago, but it had taken time to iron out the details with the County. Today he’d received confirmation, along with permission to develop a job description for two newly created positions in the paramedic training program. Of course, he intended Johnny and Roy to have the jobs, though officially he had to advertise for qualified applicants. But he had broad discretion in hiring, and he couldn’t think of anyone better for the job than Gage and DeSoto. Well, he’d waited this long… another day wouldn’t matter.
He got himself an apple and a cup of coffee and was headed for the door when Roy caught his eye and called to him. “Pull up a chair, Doc, and grab yourself a cookie before DJ eats them all.”
“Gramma Winnie an’ me made ‘em for Daddy! Peanut butter ‘n’ chockit chip!” DJ grabbed a cookie and had it halfway to his mouth before he stopped suddenly and held it out instead. “Here, Doc!” He grinned sheepishly and ducked his head.
“Well, I can’t resist an invitation like that, now, can I?” Kel considered the crowded table for a moment, then pulled another table up next to it and then dragged a chair over and sat down. He accepted the cookie from DJ with a wink and a smile. “Thank you, young man.”
Chris helped himself to a cookie too. “Mrs. Canfield bakes the best cookies, doesn’t she, DJ?”
The little boy bobbed his head. “Yep. An’ she says they’re even better now I’m helpin’ her. She teached me her secret recipe.”
“What’s the secret part?” Megan asked. Kel noted how the young girl had her chair scooted up close to her dad’s. Every so often, she lay her hand on his arm and looked up at him, as if to make sure he was still there.
DJ shook his head, his eyes dancing. “Can’t tell! I pwomised!”
Megan’s eyes flared, and though Kel had always thought she resembled her father most, in that moment she looked just like JoAnne. “Mo-om!” she appealed. “Tell him he has to tell us!”
“I wouldn’t ask your brother to break a promise, and neither should you, Meggie,” Jo scolded. “But DJ, honey, if you can’t share something, don’t talk about it at all.”
Megan just rolled her eyes, but DJ looked quite stricken at the reprimand. “Yes’m,” he whispered, and he hid his face against Johnny’s shoulder. JoAnne had kept her tone quite gentle, but Kel remembered Roy saying once that the little boy was very sensitive about such things.
Johnny jostled him a bit and kissed him on the head. “Heads up, Nitoshi… you’re not in trouble.”
“Aren’t you going to finish your milkshake, DJ?” Nita asked. At that, he sat up straight and nodded. He reached for the milkshake with both hands and pulled it close so he could slurp down the last of it through the straw.
JoAnne glanced at her watch and winced. “Time for us to get going,” she said. “Megan has ballet and Chris has piano.” She winked at Nita. “And we have our own plans, right?”
Roy raised an eyebrow. “What’re the two of you up to?”
“Now, Roy… it’s a secret,” Jo said.
“Seems to me you just told our son, if you can’t share somethin’, don’t talk about it,” Roy growled, but his eyes twinkled. DJ giggled.
“You’ll all find out soon enough,” Nita said as she pulled a napkin from the dispenser on the table and wiped the crumbs from DJ’s face. “Ready to go see Gramma Winnie?” she asked the little boy. “She’s expecting you to visit today.”
“Uh huh!” DJ hugged Johnny, then grabbed the teddy bear. “Bye, Unca Johnny! I’m gonna go see Gramma Winnie!” He hopped down to the ground, then ran over to give Kel a hug too. “Bye, Doc!” He gave his last and biggest hug to his daddy before heading out the door with his mom, his siblings, and his Aunt Nita.
Kel grabbed another cookie off the plate. “Do they bake like this every time he visits his Gramma Winnie?”
Roy chuckled and patted his belly. “Nope… and thank goodness! We’d all be about ten-feet wide if they did. I’m told she always has fresh cookies for DJ, though… I don’t know where the boy puts it all!”
Kel eyed the splint on the table, then turned to Johnny. “You going to put that back on now?” When Johnny rolled his eyes, the doctor had to laugh. “Did you teach Megan that or did she teach you?”
“I think that feature comes standard with the 1972 model,” Roy deadpanned. “No teaching required, though it doesn’t kick in till they hit double digits. Doesn’t explain why Junior here does it, though.”
Johnny whacked Roy on the shoulder, then pulled the sling on. “Happy now, Doc?”
“Depends.”
“On what?” Johnny grabbed a cookie and ate it in two bites.
Kel eyed the remaining cookies, then pushed the plate away. They were delicious, but he would forego temptation. “On what you fellows say to my proposal. I’ve been wanting to discuss it with you for a while now, but only just got the final OK from the County.”
“We’re listening.” Roy’s eyes had narrowed and he had put on a poker face.
“All right, here it is.” Kel rested his arms on the table as he leaned forward and looked from Johnny to Roy. “Lately, I’ve been noticing a real need in the paramedic training program for instructors with the specialized experience the two of you have — not just doctors who spend their days inside the sterile walls of a hospital, but men who have been on the front lines. Men like you, with a wealth of experience to incorporate into the program. Men who know both the paramedic program and the fire department inside and out. The job would go beyond instructing, though… we also need a couple of strong liaisons between the Fire Department and the medical faculty of the program, who know how the system works and with good ideas how to improve it. With these needs in mind, we are creating two new positions. Now, the County requires that I advertise the jobs and accept applications for a predetermined time period, but I have been given broad discretion regarding whom to hire, as those hired will report directly to me, even though they’ll officially be working for the Fire Department. And I can’t think of anyone I’d want to hire more than the two of you. I always said it was a sad day when the paramedic program lost the pair of you to promotion. You’d be perfect in the role — I’ve seen you with trainees and know you have excellent teaching skills; you’ve both kept your certification current; and you’ve been with the program from its inception, so you know it backwards and forwards.”
Kel stopped and looked again from Roy to Johnny and back to Roy, trying to gauge their reaction. Roy still had that poker face, but a gleam in Johnny’s eyes told Kel that he was interested. “Well, men? What do you say?”
He watched Johnny’s gaze slide to Roy, as if deferring to him. Roy cleared his throat and shifted slightly in his wheelchair. “Doc… don’t you think the trainees would take one look at me and run the other way? I’d be a pretty stark reminder of what could happen to them.”
“In all honesty, Roy, yes, some would.” Kel locked gazes with the man he had come to consider a close friend. “But the good ones… the ones we want in this job… would not. They have to be willing to accept all the risks that the job entails, and they might as well know up front what that might mean.”
“Great,” Roy growled. “So now I’m gonna be the poster boy for washed-up firefighters… the cautionary tale.”
Kel huffed out a sigh. He’d always thought of Gage as the stubborn one, but DeSoto might well have him beat. “Roy —”
“Cut it out, Pally,” Johnny said quietly. “That’s not what the Doc is saying and you know it.”
“Thank you, Johnny. No, that’s not what I’m saying. Roy, what I’m saying is, we still need you and your expertise. The job is yours if you want it. Your applications would only be a formality. You’d keep your rank and current salary in the Fire Department, but you’d also receive a generous stipend from the training academy. And the County knows I want you. They are willing to work with your therapy schedules and to postpone the start-date of the positions for a few months.”
Johnny puffed his cheeks out, then exhaled slowly. “Well, I think it sounds like a good deal, but I’d want to talk it over with Roy and with Nita before accepting. One thing’s sure…” His eyes slid over to his erstwhile partner again. “I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone but Roy.”
“That makes sense. Why don’t you talk it over and get back to me in a few — “ Kel stopped short at the sight of Dixie and Taffy walking into the cafeteria arm in arm. He groaned quietly and would have gotten up to leave, but Taffy brought Dixie over to a table and pulled out a chair for her, and he would have had to walk right past them. He pulled in his shoulders and hunched forward a bit in hopes that maybe they wouldn’t notice him.
“What’s wrong, Doc?” Roy had lost the acerbic tone and now just sounded concerned.
“Yeah, Doc? What’s up?”
“Nothing… just… hand me another one of those cookies, will you?”
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Taffy pulled out the chair for Dixie and then carefully pushed it back in after she was seated. “What would you like, my dear?”
“A vanilla milkshake, please… with whipped cream and a cherry.” She smiled up at him and he felt his heart pound.
“One vanilla milkshake, whipped cream and cherry, coming right up.” He felt as if the ring were burning a hole in his pocket, but he had to wait for the right moment, and that wouldn’t be here. He patted her on the shoulder, letting his hand linger for a moment, and then bent to kiss her on the cheek. Then he straightened and strode through the cafeteria. He was glad to notice Roy and Johnny there with Dr. Brackett. Roy looked good. Brackett, though… Taffy wasn’t sure what to think about him. The doctor looked for all the world as if he were trying to hide! He knew, of course, that once upon a time, Brackett and Dixie had been what Americans called “an item.” But that had ended a long time ago, according to Dixie, and they were just good friends now. Well, Taffy wouldn’t make an issue of it. He just nodded and said a pleasant, “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” as he passed by.
Thankfully, the cafeteria wasn’t busy at the moment, and Taffy was able to make his order quickly — a vanilla milkshake for his lady and strawberry for himself, each topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream and a maraschino cherry. In a matter of minutes, he was carrying the tasty treats back to the table and setting Dixie’s down in front of her. “Voila.” He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.
He had hardly taken two sips from his milkshake when a candy-striper trotted into the cafeteria and made a beeline for Dixie. “Excuse me, Nurse McCall, but I was told to find you. A telegram was delivered for a Mr. Matthews… it’s marked urgent. Dana told me you would know — “
“I’m Mr. Matthews,” Taffy spoke up. Dixie nodded and the girl handed him the telegram. “Thank you, young lady.” He smiled apologetically at Dixie. “Pardon me a moment, please.” He smiled softly at her, then turned his attention to the telegram:
TAFFY COL HOGAN NEEDS YOU STOP PNEUMONIA STOP STUBBORN STOP NO HOSPITAL STOP CALL ME TO ARR FLT DTLS STOP ANDREW
His heart sank. Colonel Hogan was far too stubborn for his own good, but he was one of Taffy’s boys… just like Roy, just like Andrew and Peter and Anton and a host of other men Taffy had taken into his heart over the years. But the timing… well, frankly, it stank. But Andrew would not have asked him to come if the need were not truly urgent.
He looked up from the slip of paper to meet Dixie’s worried eyes. “I am so very sorry. I have to cancel our dinner plans… one of my boys needs me, and I need to catch a flight to Washington as soon as possible.” His hand went to his pocket to feel the bulge of the ring box inside and he gave a heavy sigh. Well, Miceli’s wasn’t happening, but they were here together now, and his heart was bursting with the need to ask his question before taking his leave.
“My dearest Dixie,” he said softly as he gazed into her eyes. He wondered vaguely just how to describe their shade of green, but quickly brought his attention back to the subject at hand. Suddenly his mouth had gone dry and he wasn’t sure he would be able to get the words out. He blinked his eyes shut for a second and cast a silent prayer heavenward, then looked at her again. “This is not the way I had planned this. Dixie, I don’t want to leave you just now, but I hope you’ll give me reason to return.” He pushed back his chair and stood up, then dropped to one knee in front of her. Pulling the ring box from his pocket, he opened it and held it up. “Will you marry me, dearest?”
She gasped softly. He wasn’t sure if it was from delight or dismay or disbelief. Her eyes were large and he thought he saw tears beginning to form. “Taffy, I… we… haven’t known each other very long.”
“I know.” He returned to his seat and set the ring box on the table, then leaned forward to take her hands in his. “Barely two weeks. And yet, I feel that we have come to know each other quite well in that time, and I know that I have come to love you deeply. Dixie, I had almost given up ever finding a woman to share my life with, and then I met you. It… was almost like I recognized you at first glance as… well… the missing part of my heart, if you will allow me to wax sentimental.” He pushed the ring box toward her. “Keep this for now. It belonged to my mother. Think about what I’ve asked. I will return as soon as I can to hear your answer… and if you are willing, I will place this ring on your finger then.” He lifted the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it, allowing his lips to linger for a moment before he looked once more into her beautiful wide eyes. “Until then, ma cherie, farewell.”
Without a backward glance, though his heart ached at the parting, he strode from the cafeteria, crumpling the telegram and stuffing it in his pocket as he passed through the door.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Dixie watched Taffy go. Her heart was racing and the back of her hand tingled where his lips had touched her. She rubbed at the spot, then gathered up the skin between her thumb and forefinger and pinched it hard. “Ouch!” No, she wasn’t dreaming. Besides, the ring box — what a beautiful box; it had to be an antique — was sitting there on the table next to her milkshake. She picked it up and stared at the ring inside. Exquisite.
Only then did she become conscious of the stares. She felt them from all around. Everyone in the cafeteria — thankfully, not too many people at this time in the afternoon — was looking at her. She glanced around furtively, uncertain what she should do. The feeling was wholly unfamiliar — Dixie had a reputation for being cool and confident, with a ready response on the tip of her tongue in any situation. But now words eluded her. And… oh no… for the first time since she’d come in with Taffy, she noticed Kel and Roy and Johnny sitting across the room. They were in a corner toward the back, so she had overlooked them at first, but now she saw them, and from the looks on their faces they had most definitely witnessed Taffy’s proposal.
Roy stared at her, his mouth agape, his eyes wide; Johnny was grinning to beat the band; and Kel… oh, poor Kel. The man looked positively downtrodden. His shoulders were slumped and his lips turned down in a scowl and the hurt in his eyes… well, Dixie could see that from all the way across the room.
She quickly closed and pocketed the ring box, then took a final sip of her milkshake. She couldn’t manage any more. Even though she’d hardly had any, she was just too jittery to have an appetite. Without a word to anyone, she stood up, grabbed the tray and carried it to the trash bin, then hurried out the door and down the hall toward the nurses’ lounge.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Chapter 13
Author’s Note: Wow, sometimes this story takes me in directions I never expected! I make plans, and then the characters take it in mind to do their own thing in spite of me!
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
“Did we really just see what I think we saw?” Johnny stared wide-eyed after Dixie’s retreating form. “Did Taffy just propose to Dixie?”
“He sure did.” Roy chuckled.
“But then why’d he just walk out? I mean… it didn’t look like Dixie refused him or anything. I don’t —” Just then, Johnny noticed Dr. Brackett’s ashen face. “Hey Doc, you OK?”
“I’m fine,” Brackett snapped. “I need to get back to work… um… let me know your decision by the end of the week.” He rose abruptly and stalked out of the room.
Johnny shook his head as he let out a long, low whistle. “Well, whaddaya think of that? I guess we all knew Taffy wasn’t the only one sweet on Dixie. Ya know, I never thought of Rampart as a soap opera setting. I’m… um… not sure who to root for. I mean, Taffy’s a good fella and all, but can you imagine Dixie leaving us to go live in Paris?!”
Roy shrugged. “He might move here.”
“Maybe.” Johnny drummed his knuckles on the table as he thought. “Still, there’re also loyalties to consider. We’ve known Brackett an awful long time… we owe him a lot, too.”
“Well, as to that,” Roy grunted. “I’ve known Taffy longer… and if not for him, I don’t think I’d be alive right now.”
“Yeah, yeah… I guess you’re right.” Johnny was silent for a long moment. “Ya know, Roy… I think maybe we’ve got this backwards… tryin’ to figure out who to root for an’ all.”
“You’re the one who started it, ya know. But go on, Junior. I’m all ears.”
Johnny leaned forward, his intense gaze fixed on Roy. “Seems to me, the person we oughta be rootin’ for is Dixie. Dr. Brackett an’ Taffy… they’ll be just fine eventually, whatever Dix decides. But Dix is the one who has to make the choice… and that’s gonna be tough.”
“Well, you’re right, I guess. But I also think we shouldn’t be speculating. It’s their business, not ours.”
Roy’s mild reproof stung a bit, but Johnny couldn’t really argue with him. He shrugged up a shoulder. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He started drumming on the table again. “Listen, Roy… let’s talk about Brackett’s offer instead. I think we should take it. We could be partners again!”
“I don’t know, Johnny…” Roy rolled his eyes. “Seems to me like a way of settin’ two broken firefighters off to the side and tryin’ to make it sound good.”
Johnny responded with a vehement shake of his head. “No way, Roy. They don’t do that and give you what amounts to a raise — even if they do call it a stipend. And you know Brackett wouldn’t do that to either one of us. He’s right — we are good instructors! And we’ve had all sorts of great ideas for improving the paramedic program that we’d finally be in a position to implement… or at least to push for.” He patted his good hand on his sling. “I sure hope I’ll get full use of this hand back… but even if I do, I think this new job sounds right for me. But only if we’re workin’ together again. You have to do what feels right for you… but at least think about it, Roy.”
Roy heaved a long sigh. “Fine, Junior. I’ll think about it. I have to talk with Jo, too, see what she thinks.” He grunted. “I sure as hell can’t go back to the firehouse, so maybe this is the next best thing.” His eyes went to the clock on the cafeteria wall. “Well, I’m supposed to meet Dr. Richardson upstairs in a few minutes. Think you can manage to get me there, or should we look for an orderly?”
“No need for that.” The psychiatrist had arrived without either of them seeing him, but now he stepped into Johnny’s line of sight. “Nurse Hayden told me you were down here, Roy, so I figured I’d just come get you for our appointment. John, will you be joining us today?”
Johnny shook his head and held up his injured hand. “Sorry. Appointment with Dr. Valdez. Then Chief Stanley’s picking me up and taking me over to HQ. They’ve got me working dispatch part-time starting this evening.”
“See ya later, Junior. Hope your appointment goes well.”
“Thanks, Pally. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
A light shudder ran through Nita as she looked out over the empty lot. The defunct vineyard had once belonged to Roy’s grandparents. The land had passed to Roy and his younger sister, but the vineyard had shut down back in the 60s. She gripped the steering wheel of Roy’s pickup truck tightly with her left hand while her right hand rested on the gear stick. She had wanted to learn to drive in the station wagon, which had an automatic transmission, but Jo insisted she start with the stick shift. Nita had found it daunting at first, but Jo was a patient teacher who remembered her own struggles when her mother-in-law had taught her to drive.
“My mother believed that women shouldn’t drive,” Jo had explained over tea when she first presented Nita with the idea months ago. “I was supposed to depend on men to shuttle me around — at their convenience, of course. But Mama DeSoto convinced me that my mother’s viewpoint was ridiculous, that I needed to be able to take care of myself, and that included driving.” She chuckled. “Didn’t take much convincing — my mother and I had a terrible relationship back then. It got a little better over the years, especially after Chris was born, but she never really accepted Roy until just before she died.”
Nita had sensed there was a greater story there, but Jo hadn’t been interested in telling it just then. Instead, she had pulled out a driver’s manual and set it on the table between them. “You need to learn to drive, Nita… just like I did, and I thought you might enjoy making a surprise of it for Johnny. I’ll help you study and once you’ve got your permit, I’ll teach you.” Just one week before Roy’s accident, Nita had taken the test to get her learner’s permit. Because of Roy’s injuries, the driving lessons had been put on the back burner until a couple weeks ago. But since then, they’d taken place almost every day.
The effort had been made easier since Nita and Johnny had been spending their weekdays in Los Angeles, sometimes staying with Nita’s brother Billy and sometimes at the DeSoto house. Nita’s cousin and his wife had returned home after Johnny’s first surgery, but their friend Tex had finally worked out his problems with Immigration and Johnny had promptly hired him as a ranch hand. The Gages knew their stock was in good hands with the man who had helped save Nita’s life the previous year.
And so, here Nita was on a Tuesday afternoon, sitting at the wheel of Roy’s pickup truck. She wasn’t sure what Roy would think of her learning to drive in his vehicle, but JoAnne insisted he wouldn’t mind. At this point, Nita hadn’t actually started the engine. She was just practicing moving the stick through all the gears. Jo said she needed to do this until it was second nature. “First… second…” She listed each gear under her breath as she moved through the positions.
“Good,” Jo said after multiple repetitions — Nita had lost count how many. “OK… now push the clutch in… remember, all the way to the floor. Then put it in neutral and turn the key.”
Nita took a deep breath as she stepped down on the clutch. The first time she’d done this, she’d forgotten the clutch and put it in first instead of neutral, and the vehicle had lurched, then stalled out on her. She hadn’t made either mistake a second time, but the possibility still made her nervous. She held her breath as she shifted to neutral and turned the key, then exhaled in a long sigh when the truck started smoothly.
“Good job.” Jo patted her on the shoulder. “Relax, Nita. You’re doing great. Now, step on the brake, keep the clutch down, and shift into first. Take your foot off the brake, then gently release the clutch and at the same time, gently step on the gas pedal with your right foot.”
Jo had told her the steps a thousand times now, but Nita had never managed to put them together exactly right. How did Nashoba make it seem so easy?! She could feel the muscles in her back and shoulders tighten as she shifted into first, then slowly released the clutch and simultaneously pressed on the gas pedal. For the very first time, the truck didn’t lurch or stall or make a horrible noise! It purred like a kitten as it crept forward.
“You did it!” Jo seemed to be as thrilled as Nita at her accomplishment. “Now, give it a little more gas. Let’s drive around the lot a little!”
Bolstered by her success, Nita gradually increased her speed. Soon, Jo had her shift into second gear. Shifting while in motion scared her, but she managed it without stalling. She had begun to feel how the vehicle responded to her, almost like her horse, Jesse. After the third round of the lot, her smile stretched from ear to ear. “I think I’ve got it, Jo!”
Her friend laughed. “You’ve definitely got it! Want to try taking us to the dance studio to pick up Meggie? There’s a big parking lot and it’s almost always empty.”
Nita gulped back the fear that lurched in her heart at the idea of driving this big machine anywhere other than the empty lot. What would Roy say if she wrecked his pickup? What if she hit somebody? Uncertain, she slowed. She needed a moment to sit and think without having to keep all her concentration on driving. This time the truck bucked a little, then stalled, when she forgot to hit the clutch before shifting back to first. She wished she could shrink down and become invisible.
Certain that Jo would have changed her mind, Nita opened the door and was about to hop down and move around to the other side, but a warm hand on her shoulder stopped her. “You can do this,” Jo said. “I have faith in you, Nita. Listen, it’s not a busy time of the day, and you can stay off the main streets for the entire drive. That means your top speed will be 25 miles an hour. Maybe you’ll shift into third, but second should be fine the whole way. When we get to the studio, you can stop at the far end of the parking lot. I’ll take over from there and park it.”
Nita nodded. She heard Nashoba’s words run through her mind. When did you ever let fear stop you from trying to do something good? Of course, he hadn’t been talking about driving. He had been encouraging her to go ahead and work for her GED. That certificate would bring her one step closer to fulfilling her childhood dream of becoming a nurse. The way I figure it, her husband had said, one of the reasons God put me in your life was so I could help you reach for those dreams you thought you had to give up on. And then he’d smiled and swooped her up in his arms and kissed her.
Thoughts of Nashoba and his crooked grin filled her with confidence. She would get her GED and she would learn to drive. She glanced at JoAnne. “Thanks. I’ll do it.” She started the truck again, and once more, it started smoothly. Then she spoke each step aloud as she did it. Soon, she was driving around the crumbling old storage shed and out onto the street. She drove slowly but surely, following Jo’s directions all the way back to the dance studio. When she got into the parking lot, sure enough the corner furthest from the building was practically empty. Nita stopped and put the truck in park, then switched seats with JoAnne.
“You’re amazing, Nita!” JoAnne said as she climbed in and set the truck in motion again. “It took me a month to get this far, and it’s barely taken you two weeks. We still have a lot to do… like parallel parking and highway driving and the like, but before you know it, Johnny will be getting you your own car.”
“Oh no!” Nita gasped. “I don’t want him to spend that kind of money on me.”
Jo laughed as she turned into a parking spot close to the main entrance. “If I know Johnny, he won’t mind a bit. In fact… it will be good for you to have your own car. You might need it.”
“Oh, but he works so hard. We have his Jeep, and he’s got his motorcycle. That is enough. It’s more than we ever had when I was a child.” Nita felt her cheeks grow warm. She knew that Johnny enjoyed spoiling her, but it always made her feel guilty.
“Nita.” Jo patted her on the arm. “The Jeep won’t work well for driving the babies around, and besides, Johnny uses it to get to work. You’re going to need a dependable car, and he will tell you exactly the same thing.”
Nita cracked a slight smile. “I suppose you’re right,” she admitted. “I couldn’t exactly drive the twins around on the motorcycle!”
“Now that would be a sight to see!” JoAnne laughed. “Come on… let’s catch the tail-end of Meggie’s class. She’d love for you to see her dance!”
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Mike yawned and rubbed at his eyes, then bent once again over the transcript he’d been reading. A moment later, he reached for his mug and gulped down a mouthful of the sludge that passed for coffee at HQ. At least he knew the caffeine would kick in quickly. When he had talked with Beth about joining the arson investigation team, he’d envisioned combing through the debris of the apartment building and interviewing witnesses and examining evidence in the lab. But by the time he’d come onto the team, most of that had been accomplished. What remained, for the most part, had been a lot of deskwork, and the dullest of it had fallen to the team member with the least experience… Mike.
At least he still spent half his work hours each week on duty at Station 51. Chief Stanley had suggested he split his shifts with Captain Otis Moody, who had just come off the injured roster, but was supposed to ease his way back into full-time work. When he wasn’t on shift at 51’s, Mike was either in fire science classes or his butt was glued to the chair in this office with a stack of transcripts about six inches high in front of him. If he stuck with it, eventually he would be the one out doing the active work, but for now, this was it… his on-the-job training. Thankfully, he was still pulling full pay and the department had subsidized his classes, so the financial hit he had worried about had not materialized. Beth could still be home with the boys. Mike wasn’t home as much as he would have liked, but that was par for the course. He yawned again, then interlaced his fingers, palms outward, and stretched his arms as straight as he could.
“If you’re that tired, maybe you should call it a day. It’s past quitting time, you know.”
Mike looked up to see his immediate supervisor, Chief Ken Johnson, standing over his desk. “You’re still here, Chief,” he observed.
Ken laughed. “I’m always here.”
Mike pushed the papers away and sighed. “Can’t go home yet. I really think I’m getting close… like… maybe I’ve got something, but I’m not sure I trust myself to be right.”
Ken’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened. “Wow, Michael. I’ve never heard you string so many words together at once before!”
Mike chuckled. “Happens sometimes.”
Ken pulled up a chair and took a seat. “When you’ve got something to say, Michael, I want to hear it. I’ve been paying attention to you, and one thing I’ve realized… when you do speak up, you make it count. I consider you a great addition to this team, and I trust your instincts. So, talk to me. What are you looking at?”
Mike took a deep breath. Might as well go for it, he told himself, then grabbed the file he’d set to the right of his transcripts. He opened the folder and pulled out a photograph of the crowd that had gathered to watch the firefighters as they battled the blaze that had proved so devastating. He pointed to a fellow in the front, wearing a Raiders jacket and a ball cap with the brim pulled way down, almost as if he were trying to hide behind it. “See this guy? He gave us an interview. He claimed to be a resident, but I was looking back over the list the landlord gave us, and it doesn’t add up. He gave the name Kirby Jefferson… There is a Jefferson family among the residents, and that family has a Kirby… but get this, he’s only two years old! And apparently, they were out of town during the fire.”
The Chief pursed his lips as he looked over the list of residents and then back at the photograph. “I guess this was overlooked because the names match up… but everyone else missed the age discrepancy. Maybe the kid was named for a relative… he could’ve been housesitting for them?”
Mike paged through the transcripts until he found the one that would answer the chief’s question. “Here it is… Tina Rodriguez… age 15… said the Jeffersons hired her to collect their mail until September 15. They wouldn’t hire a neighbor kid if they had this guy staying there.”
“Well done, Michael. Well done.” Chief read over the transcript and looked at the photograph again. “Do we have any contact info for this so-called Kirby Jefferson?”
Mike shook his head. “No. Only the address at Sunny Estates… and that’s no good now.”
“All right… well, considering the name he gave, sounds like he knows the Jeffersons. Pull his interview transcript and then see if you can find contact information for the Jeffersons. Who’s the head-of-household?”
Mike’s eyes lit up, pleased that the Chief considered his discovery worth looking into… and also glad he already knew the information he’d just been asked to find. “Marita Jefferson. Single mother. We don’t have an address or phone number because she was out of town when the fire occurred and was never interviewed. But she works at ABC Preschool, in Carson on Arlington and… um… 238th. I imagine we could find her there, or at least get contact information there.”
Ken shook his head slowly. “Excellent work, Mike. You’re with us tomorrow morning, aren’t you?”
“Yessir. I won’t be on shift at 51’s again until Friday.”
“Excellent. How would you like to get away from this desk for a while tomorrow?” Johnson set the papers down on the desk and leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.
“Sure, Chief. That sounds really good.”
“All right, then,” Johnson sat up straight again, then stood. “Be here at 8:00 a.m. sharp. We’re going to visit ABC Preschool. If Ms. Jefferson isn’t at work, we’ll hope they can help us track her down. Now, go home and get some rest, spend some time with your family. But do take a little time tonight to put together a list of questions for Ms. Jefferson. We’ll go over it together before we set out tomorrow.”
“Yessir, Chief!” As Johnson strode out of the office, Mike watched him out the door, stunned. Before he gathered his things to head home, he picked up the phone and dialed Beth. “Honey? Have you started dinner yet? No? Good… get all dressed up and tell the boys they can fend for themselves tonight. I’m headed home and I want to take my best girl on a date.”
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Dixie sat in the nurse’s lounge, staring at the ring Taffy had given her. She’d been kept busy for the rest of her shift, so she hadn’t had time to think about it, but now her shift was over and she had nothing but time. The very thought of Taffy on his knees, popping the question, left her feeling a bit lightheaded. She wasn’t sure she trusted herself to drive home. She slid the ring onto her left ring finger and studied it carefully. It fit perfectly, as if it were made for her.
“So you’ve made up your mind, have you?”
Dixie looked up to see Kel. He strode across the lounge to the coffee pot, got himself a mug from the cabinet, and poured a cup. Then he joined her at the table. She snatched the ring from her finger, placed it back in its box, and snapped the lid shut. “Just… thinking.”
Kel sipped from his coffee and then set the mug back on the table. He looked down at his hands for a moment, then raised his chin and met Dixie’s gaze straight on. Dix could tell he was upset. She could see it in the set of his jaw, his thousand-yard stare, the shadow that had settled over his face.
“Kel, I — “ She stopped, uncertain what to say, searching for the right words.
“Do you love him, Dix?”
The question caught her by surprise, and she wasn’t prepared with an answer. “I… well… he’s a good man, Kel. He would be good to me.”
“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you love him.”
She shrugged. “I only just met him. I can’t really say I love him… yet. But… I think I could get there.”
His hand came down on hers on the table and she gasped slightly at his touch, but she didn’t pull away. His eyes locked on hers and held her gaze captive. “Dixie… we… um… need to talk. I haven’t got a dozen roses or a fancy ring to offer, but… will you just have dinner with me?”
She tried to speak… to tell him yes, but somehow her mouth was suddenly stuffed with cotton or something, because she couldn’t get a word out. So she just nodded.
“Good. I just came off shift, so… we could go now if you’re ready?”
She nodded again, but then looked down at herself and suddenly her tongue was loosed. “Like this, Kel? I’m a mess.”
“I don’t know, Dix.” He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “You look like a million bucks to me.”
Brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, she laughed nervously and glanced away. “More like a rusty nickel, but OK… let’s go.” She deposited the ring box in her purse and Kel escorted her from the lounge, one hand lightly touching the small of her back.
Kel wasn’t sure when the last time was that he and Dixie had come to The Velvet Slipper together. Surely it wasn’t the time the pregnant woman came in and they’d delivered her baby, then had to go back to work without ever eating because their break was over. He sought his memory, but couldn’t think of a time since.
Apparently, Dixie’s thoughts were running the same way his were because she chuckled as they approached the door. “I sure hope this doesn’t turn out like last time we were here… I mean, it was satisfying, delivering that baby. But I was hungry all day!”
Kel stopped just in front of the door and pivoted to face her. “Dix… maybe we should order take-out and then find someplace where we know we won’t be interrupted.” Damn, but I want to kiss her right now! He couldn’t stop the thought, but he did manage to stop himself from giving into it. The timing wasn’t right. Now that he’d determined to talk to her, he knew he had to take things slowly and carefully or he might just drive her right into Taffy’s arms and all the way to Paris.
She nodded. “Sounds like a good idea. Um… how about getting a pizza at Antonelli’s and taking it to my place?”
He hadn’t wanted to suggest her apartment, but since she’d done so, Kel was inclined to agree. At least they were unlikely to have any patients needing attention come wandering in!
Thirty minutes later, Kel was opening a bottle of wine and pouring them each a glass, while Dixie fetched plates from her china cabinet. Finally, they sat across from each other at the small dining table, a loaded thick-crust pizza in its box between them. Kel served Dixie a slice, then took one for himself.
He ate a few bites as he gathered the courage to speak his mind. At last, he set his pizza down on the plate and wiped his hands and face with his napkin. “Dixie, I’ve been an idiot. I let myself get comfortable with the status quo and figured we could just go on like that forever. And now… well… now that status quo has been shaken up a bit.” He took a sip of his wine as he sought for his next words. “Dixie, I want nothing more than for you to be happy. But before you make your decision about Taffy’s proposal, I need to tell you what I’m feeling.” He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly as he fixed his eyes on hers. “Dixie, I love you. I’ve loved you for years.” There. He’d said it. He sought her face for any indication that she welcomed his declaration, that she perhaps shared his feelings.
He couldn’t tell. Her expression was enigmatic. In fact, she could give the Mona Lisa a run for her money. “Dix?”
She pushed her plate away, and ‘enigmatic’ soon made way for ‘annoyed.’ “After all these years, now you tell me?” Her voice rose simultaneously in volume and tone. “Why now, Kel? Why wait so long?”
A dozen answers ran through his mind, but they all seemed like feeble excuses. We were focused on our careers… we were both too busy… I thought you were happy with how things were… I thought we had plenty of time for that later… He finally settled on the only answer that rang true. “Like I said, I was an idiot. I never should have waited. I never should have put off telling you. I… I think I got caught up in resentment, back when you were pushing the paramedic program and I was opposing it. It took almost losing you for good to show me that I was wrong. But even though I got past that resentment, I… never did what I should have to make things right between us again. I just… put our relationship on the back burner and let everything else take precedence and I was wrong and I am so very sorry.” He wrapped his fingers around her hand and squeezed.
She pulled away and started clearing the table, even though the pizza was still mostly untouched. “You should go, Kel. I’m sorry… I need time to think about all this. I’ve… got about a week of vacation on the books. I’m going to use it. The nurses’ schedule is already worked out for the next week and Betty can manage anything else that comes up.” She tugged him up from the table and herded him to the door, grabbing his jacket from the chair where he’d tossed it earlier.
Just before she pushed him out into the hall, though, she suddenly threw her arms around him and lay her head against his chest. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her. He stroked her hair and bent to plant a quick kiss on the top of her head, then pulled free of her grasp and willed his feet to carry him down the hall.
Before he’d reached the elevator, he was kicking himself. Maybe that hug meant she really wanted him to stay? Maybe she just wanted to see if he really meant what he said? The elevator door opened, but Kel wasn’t there to step in. He had headed back down the hall to Dixie’s door. But when he arrived, the door was closed and locked, and she didn’t open to his knock. From out in the corridor, he could hear the faint strains of a Broadway tune playing on the stereo. I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair…
He didn’t wait for the elevator again. He took the stairs, two at a time, desperate to get out of there. Hell, he had vacation on the books too, and right now his sense of duty warred with his need just to get away from everything and everyone that would remind him what a fool he’d been. He’d lost her, that much was certain now. She would marry Taffy and move away… or Taffy would move here and she would stay at Rampart. It didn’t really matter which — whether he was confronted each day by her presence or by her absence, for the rest of his life he would face the consequences of his own stupidity.
Unless I just get the hell out of Rampart for good. Dennis has always said he’s got a place for me at Georgetown if I ever want it. Maybe I need to put in a call, see if he’s as good as his word.
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Dixie’s beloved South Pacific album had already been on the turntable. As soon as she had shut and locked the door behind Kel, she had crossed the room to the record player, turned it on, and set the needle in the groove for the song she always listened to when she was most exasperated with Kel. Then she fetched her wine glass from the kitchen counter and drained it in a couple of swallows. She considered pouring herself another glass from the bottle, which was still half full, but decided against it. She needed to be clear-headed more than she needed to dull the hurt she was feeling right now. I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair. She turned up the volume so she could hear it from her bathroom, then started to run herself a hot bath, all the while singing along with the scratchy recording. I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair, and send him on his way!
After a good soak, she knew what she was going to do. She had an open invitation to visit her friend Trudy, who lived in Sacramento. She would give her a call tonight, then drive up there tomorrow morning. Though she needed time to herself, she liked the idea of having Trudy around if she needed someone to talk to. And thankfully, Trudy was the kind of friend who didn’t expect constant conversation and activity. She would respect Dixie’s need for a shoulder to cry on, and would leave her alone when she needed it. Trudy also had Toby, the sweetest little spaniel pup, who would happily curl up in Dixie’s lap and comfort her.
Once she’d toweled her hair dry, Dixie went to the kitchen. She was hungry, but the pizza no longer appealed to her. She opened the fridge and scanned the shelves for something that looked good, but finally just moved to the freezer and pulled out a carton of Rocky Road ice cream. Who needs a bowl? she thought as she grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer. Then she moved the needle back to the first song on the album. Settling in on the sofa, she pulled the lid off the Rocky Road and dug in.
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Joe Early came on shift Wednesday morning to the surprising news that both Kel and Dixie had taken advantage of vacation time they’d accrued. Of course, the Rampart rumor mill had been churning wildly after Taffy’s proposal in the cafeteria. Joe had missed the actual event, but he’d heard about it from an x-ray technician, whose cousin was a janitor who heard it from the pedes nurse, who had it straight from the cafeteria cashier. Of course, Joe knew better than to believe more than half of the story that was making the rounds. By the time it got to his ears, Taffy had begged Dixie to run away with him and Dr. Brackett had challenged him to a fist fight out in the ambulance bay.
Around noon, Joe decided to head upstairs to visit Roy. Dwight Pearson was covering for Kel today, and Mike Morton was in. His wife was doing much better and had been discharged a few days before, so Mike was in good spirits. The two could manage without Joe for a bit, especially since the ER wasn’t particularly busy at the moment. According to the rumors, Roy and Johnny had been right there to witness the proposal, and Joe knew he could trust Roy for an accurate accounting of what had happened. On the way to the elevator, Joe waved to Dwight. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “Have me paged if things get out of hand.”
A few minutes later, he stepped into Roy’s room. Roy was just settling in with his lunch, which Joe figured JoAnne had brought him. She sat by the bed, eating a sandwich, and she and Roy were laughing about something. Joe enjoyed the sight. It wasn’t that long ago, he mused, that Jo had been crying by her husband’s bedside, desperate for him to wake up.
“Hi, Roy. Hi, JoAnne.” Dr. Early pulled up a chair and took a seat. “Dr. Brackett is out for the rest of the week, so I thought I’d come up to see how you’re doing.”
“He’s out?” Roy’s forehead wrinkled and he frowned. “Is he OK? I could tell he was pretty upset yesterday.”
Joe raised his eyebrows. “I’ve heard about that… and I’m not sure how much to believe. But most of the accounts place you and Johnny right in the middle of the action, so I figured I’d ask you what really happened.”
“Action?” Roy shook his head. “I wouldn’t say there was too much action, Doc.”
“So… you and Johnny weren’t about to beat each other up in defense of Taffy and Brackett?” Joe asked, his eyes twinkling and his lips curling into a wry grin.
“Why beat him up when I can run him down with my wheelchair?” Roy deadpanned, then he chuckled. “Actually… we watched Taffy get down on one knee and present a ring box to Dixie… didn’t actually see the ring… and he proposed. Then he took off. Dixie hurried out next… looked all flustered. Then Brackett went gray and looked like he was about to lose his lunch, and he said he had to get back to work. That’s all I can tell you, Doc.” He took another bite of his burger. “I haven’t seen him or Dixie since.”
JoAnne snatched some potato chips from Roy’s bag and he glared at her, then laughed and pushed the bag toward her. “You can have ‘em all, Honey. I’m done.” He glanced at Joe. “Watch, Doc… she’ll put ‘em on her sandwich. The kids and I always tease her for it.”
“I like the crunch!” Jo’s tone rose as she leapt to her own defense. And indeed, she lifted up what was left of the top slice of her bread and piled the rest of Roy’s potato chips on top of her cheese, then crushed the bread down on them and took a bite. “Perfect!” she declared, after chewing and swallowing. “And I hope that Dixie says yes to Taffy. No offense intended to Dr. Brackett, but he has put her off all these years. And Taffy’s such a sweet man. He and Dixie make a lovely couple.”
“Well, I’m not takin’ sides on this one,” Roy countered. “Except Dixie’s side, I guess. She’s the one who has to make the choice, and it’s gotta be hard. How’s she doin’, Doc?”
Joe’s eyebrow shot up. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her, but she’s taking a week of vacation, just like Kel. I don’t care to speculate beyond that.”
Roy shook his head. “Is it just me, Doc, or does it feel like we’ve landed on the set of General Hospital or somethin’?”
Joe couldn’t help a chuckle. “It’s not just you, Roy. And whoever’s writing the script really seems to have it in for Taffy and Kel both… not to mention Dixie.”
“And me… and Johnny.” Roy frowned. “I’ll have to find out how his follow-up with Valdez went. He never stopped in to tell me yesterday, which makes me wonder if it wasn’t as good as he hoped.”
Joe nodded, then sighed as he got to his feet. “I’d better get back downstairs. The longer I’m gone, the more likely it is to turn into a madhouse. Thanks for the information. You’re looking good, Roy. Really good.”
He nodded to Jo as he moved to the door. “I’ll check in again tomorrow. Kel left me a note asking me to keep tabs on how you’re doing. See you later, Roy… Jo.”
“See ya, Doc. Thanks.”
When Joe got back downstairs, sure enough the ER was once again buzzing with activity. Betty was walking around with a clipboard, several charts, and a haunted look in her eyes. She was an excellent nurse but didn’t have the management skills Dixie had. She brightened briefly when she locked eyes with Joe.
“Oh, Dr. Early! Dr. Pearson said I should page you, but I’ve barely had a second to breathe. There’s a three-year-old girl in Treatment 2 who swallowed a goldfish, a six-year-old boy in Treatment 4 who took a fall from a fence, and a man in Treatment 1 who mistook a bottle of Super Glue for his eyedrops.” She pushed their files at him. “And Dr. Pearson said he could use your help in Treatment 3 when you have a chance.” With that, she took off down the hall, chasing after one of the paramedics.
“Ah, once more into the breach,” Joe murmured as he took a quick look at each chart, then hurried toward Treatment 1. He would spend the rest of the day racing from one patient to the next, putting thoughts of his friends off for another time.
To be Continued
NOTES
Posted To Site 9/22/18
Chapter 5
*For Newkirk’s backstory, see katbybee’s story Earthquake at fanfiction.net.
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Chapter 7
*See my story Christmas Eve Gift. This one-shot also gives some background on Roy’s backstory, mostly from JoAnne’s point of view.
**Surgeon General C. Everett Koop released a Report on Smoking and Health in 1982, the official beginning of his anti-smoking campaign. The dangers of second-hand smoke were not really highlighted until 1986, but I thought that Nita’s mother, a midwife, might have seen for herself the effects of parental smoking on the babies she delivered, even if she lacked the resources to make a real scientific study of the matter.
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