Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with 'em.
The Forgiveness Factor
Written by: Kianda
"Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future."
Paul Boese
Chapter One
Twenty-eight year old Firefighter/Paramedic John Rodrick Gage, A.K.A. Johnny, of Station 51, blew past his opponent to set up a mid-court shot. As the ball left his hands, both men watched it sail up and swish through the net.
"Ha, I win." The champion's arms rose in victory.
His winded Irish opponent leaning over, trying to catch his breath, gave his triumphant co-worker a look of displeasure.
"Gloating isn't cool." Straightening up, still breathing hard his thick mustache lifted as he spoke, "I was doing you a solid Gage, cuz, you've been out of practice awhile, and I didn't feel I should take advantage of ya."
"Sure Kelly, whatever you say." Johnny lobbed the ball at him. His friend caught it and let it drop.
"You don't believe me? I'm cut man." Chet dramatically placed both hands over his heart and staggered.
Rolling his eyes, Johnny picked up a towel wiping the sweat from his face and neck. "You make a good point. I am out of practice."
"See? What I tell ya."
Wearing a smirk Johnny enlightened his friend, "Yeah, I'm outta practice alright cuz I didn't beat you by my usual ten points."
Smiling he changed into a dry set of clothes thinking, and not for the first time, how good it felt working again. Upon his return from Montana he itched to come back. To his disappointment and frustration Brackett, as thorough as ever, kept him out an extra two weeks until satisfied with his mental and physical status.
While he disliked being idle, the extra couple of weeks gave him the opportunity to reflect on his trip to the Big Sky Country, and its significance. He came away from his childhood home with a heightened sense of balance, no longer consumed by the powerful draw of his past. Though he still wrestled with some issues, he could put them into perspective dealing with them one at a time. The trip yielded more than he had expected. He met his half-sister, felt the sting of deception, from a beloved family member, and confronted the man who tormented his teen years. His father now a recovering alcoholic, sat in a wheelchair looking old, tired, and wanting forgiveness. Forgiveness he did not grant. He left with the knowledge he may have fought the battle but didn't win the war.
"Johnny you have a phone call," Roy said breaking into his musing.
"Thanks Roy." Securing the last button on his clean uniform shirt, he headed for the kitchen instead of using the phone in the locker room.
"Hello Mr. Gage? This is Kevin Brown. I hope this isn't a bad time to talk? I'd phoned the station earlier, but you were out on a call."
Immediately Johnny's body stiffened. "I've meant to phone you. Is everything alright with Ryan?"
"Better than most days I admit. I wanted to tell you of Judge Forsyth's decision. We have guardianship of Ryan starting today."
His body relaxed. "That's fantastic news, Mr. Brown. How's Ryan doing with all of this?"
"He's been patient through it all. Your deposition and letter must have been a powerful persuader; otherwise I don't think the judge would have granted custody. We owe you more than we can ever repay."
Johnny shook his head as he spoke into the phone, "No, I just told the truth."
"Rodger will be in jail six months for his DUI. He will also have a three-year probationary period. Part of his probation requires he attend spousal abuse counseling, paired with Parent Anonymous and alcohol abuse classes. While it isn't a permanent solution," Kevin explained, "it will give Ryan a calmer home situation which he'd been missing from his life. Margery has to attend Parents Anonymous classes and must show proof she's been attending. They also want her to attend battered wife counseling."
"Thanks for sharing this information with me," Johnny said. "I would like to keep in contact with Ryan, maybe visit with him once a week, if it's okay by you?"
"I don't see a problem," Kevin told him. "I'll run it past Ryan, but I'm sure he'll like the idea too."
"I have your phone number so I'll call the house before I come out." Johnny rang off.
The Klaxon sounded.
"Station 51, multi-vehicle accident with injuries, 1/2 mile north on the highway from the entrance to the Cement and Gravel Works located at 1389 Sepulveda Blvd, Sepulveda Blvd. Police and ambulance have been dispatched. Time out 13:11."
"Station 51 KMG 365."
"Looks like a bad one," Mike commented as he expertly slowed the engine and parked as close to the scene as possible without compromising safety. The hissing of air-brakes almost drowned out Hanks reaction.
"Phew."
The three vehicle accident involved a large dump truck, a small utility vehicle, and an automobile. Of the three, the utility vehicle suffered the worst damage. Sandwiched between the dump truck and the automobile, the driver of the truck tried last-minute to avoid the accident by cutting his wheel to the right. By the skid marks on the road, the driver behind him tried to stop but didn't have enough space or time. The collision forced the driver's side of the smaller truck underneath the dump truck. The dump truck's box bed had partly risen, spilling half its payload of crushed stone directly on top of the truck. A feeling of urgency gripped everyone as they took in the scene.
The police stopped and rerouted traffic.
As his men jumped from the rig Captain Stanley fired off, "Kelly, grab the shovels and make sure nothing's leaking from any of the vehicles. Lopez, check on the driver of the auto. Stoker, see if you can't lower the box bed." Hank keyed the engines microphone, "LA Engine 51 at scene. Send an additional ambulance and a wrecker to this location. Engine 51, out thirty-five minutes."
The steady voice of the dispatcher replied, "Engine 51."
The odor of dirt and stone pervaded the area as Johnny and Roy exited the squad.
Immediately, an older gentleman, breathing hard, and pointing excitedly to the smaller vehicle, huffed, "Help my son. He's trapped in there."
Hank joined the two paramedics.
"Alright Sir," Johnny advised, "Calm down and tell us what happened."
Roy took off for the buried truck. After a moment he called out, "Sir can you hear me?" with no returning answer.
The man continued to explain,"I was driving the dump truck, my son driving behind me. We'd pulled out onto the highway and hadn't gone far when I heard a pop. The mechanism for the bed box malfunctioned, and it started rising. I slowed down getting ready to pull over. I'm not sure what happened next. It happened so fast. All I know is I'm being pushed forward into the steering wheel. I realize it's my son's truck who hit me. The bed kept rising. The load spilled." Looking at the result, and not hearing his son answer Roy's call, cried, "Oh my God! I may have killed my son."
"Sir," Johnny cautioned, "Settle down. We don't know anything yet."
Mike approached. "Cap, the box bed mechanism is shot, she won't lower."
Gerry's voice rose, "Don't you think I already tried lowering it?"
"Take it easy," Hank suggested with a touch of firmness.
Mike gave the man a sympathetic glance trotting toward the crew and grabbing a shovel on the way. He could see Roy trying to find an access point.
"Sir, are you experiencing pain anywhere?"
Seeing his paramedic take the situation in hand, Hank grabbed a yellow plastic blanket from the squad and spread it on the ground. To this, he added the bio-phone and other equipment his medics would need.
Roy came hurrying back. "In order to gain access Cap we'll have to dig at least partway in."
"Get my son out, please!"
"Johnny you have this?" He indicated Gerry .
His partner nodded. Roy met Marco who was leading a somewhat dazed young man, blood streaming from a head laceration over to the blanket area.
"Sir, are you experiencing pain anywhere other than your head?" Roy asked, guiding him to the blanket and gently lowering him down.
"No, and I can't believe I was spared," The man said nervously. "You gotta help the dude in the truck. I tried to stop. I really did. I feel so bad. He was yelling until just a little while ago."
"Try to relax now," Roy said, "We're helping him. What's your name?"
"Jack."
"Jack, I'm Roy, It looks like you cut your head, I'm just gonna check you out here if it's okay?"
"Do what you gotta do."
Roy asked, "Been through this before?"
"No, I'm a volunteer Red Cross worker. I've seen you guys in action."
Roy determined Jack suffered a small laceration to his scalp, rattled nerves, and some superficial bruises from his brush with the truck. Since blood loss was negligible and controlled right away Rampart didn't order an IV.
Roy spoke into the bio-phone. "Standby for vitals on other two victims Rampart."
"Standing by, 51."
"This just about does it," Roy told the accident victim securing the last bit of tape to his head bandage.
"Thanks man."
"Sit here," the paramedic directed. "If anything at all starts to hurt let us know. A police officer will be over shortly to get your statement. Once the ambulance arrives they will take you to the hospital, you'll need some stitches."
"I'm really sorry about this. I came around the corner, saw what was happening, slammed on the brakes—I hope he's gonna be okay."
"This wasn't anybody's fault, that's why they call 'em accidents."
"I hear what you're saying."
Roy nodded, glanced once at his partner, and took off again. He joined the others in digging.
Meanwhile, Johnny had his hands full trying to gain coöperation from a difficult victim. He refused to sit, his attention wrapped up in what the rescuers were doing.
"Sir," Johnny forced the man's attention, "What's your name?"
"Gerry. Gerry McDonald."
"Gerry my name is John," The paramedic told him visually checking him for injury. "I'm here to help you. Your son is in good hands. How old are you?"
"60"
"You're son's name?"
"Sean."
"His age?" Johnny reached for Gerry's wrist glancing down at his watch.
"30. He's my youngest son." Gerry's gaze riveted upon the buried truck, snapped. "Why are you asking me all these questions, help my son!"
Johnny released the man's wrist, and jotting down his findings. "Mr. McDonald we are helping your son. My job is to make sure you aren't injured." A purplish bruise stood out on Gerry's forehead.
"Does your head hurt?"
Distractedly Gerry answered, "No more than it has hurt today. Please get my son outta there. I can't believe this has happened!"
Attempting to lessen the man's anxiety, Johnny deftly turned his patient so his line of sight wasn't directly facing the smaller vehicle.
"I'd like to give you a quick exam. It looks like you hit your head."
"You don't understand. I've got to help my boy." Gerry started toward the smaller vehicle.
Both Johnny and Hank stopped him.
"Hold on now Mr. McDonald," Hank said, "my men are doing everything they can to help your son."
"He's got a ton of rock on him!" Gerry said explosively, wiping sweat from his forehead grimacing when he came into contact with his bruised brow.
"I can understand you wanting to help, sir, but these men are trained to handle situations like this," Hank stated firmly. "Why don't you come over to the rig with me, we'll get your information, and my paramedic can check you out making sure you're OK." He kept his tone friendly, but decisive. "It won't take long," and added, "You may have injuries you're not aware of."
Gerry looked once more toward where the men were digging and slowly nodded his consent, yelling when he spied Jack, "You son of…!"
"Hey," Johnny said sternly, "settle down. That kinda talk won't help anybody, Mr. McDonald."
Hank glanced over to the man sitting in the triage area. He looked upset. 51's commander led his equally upset and vocal victim to the running board of the engine sitting him down. Johnny gave his captain a loaded look of thanks, resuming the exam and aiming his penlight at Gerry's pupils. Both equally responded to light.
"John, will you all right by yourself?" Hank asked. When Johnny nodded, Hank grabbed a shovel, gave a reassuring word to the man on the blanket, and joined his men.
The paramedic began asking Gerry a series of questions. "Can you move your neck alright?"
"I told you I didn't get hurt."
"You said you've had a headache today?"
"I've felt a bit run down lately," Gerry conceded.
"Have you seen a doctor?"
"No."
Johnny asked Gerry the usual questions, did he suffer from any serious health problems now or in the past, heart problems, blood pressure, etc. Did he have allergies to any medications or taking any medications or drugs?
The answers were no.
The whole time Johnny asked questions he assessed for injury.
"Are you having discomfort or pain anywhere other than having a headache?"
Frustration dripped off the older man as he said curtly, "I already told you I'm fine!"
Johnny was gently feeling around Gerry's head. "I know these questions may seem unimportant, but the answers help me to help you."
Johnny proceeded to attach a blood pressure cuff to Gerry's arm. In the background he could hear the shovels clanging against the gravel as his shift-mates continued to dig. Glancing up it looked like they almost had access to the passenger side door.
Fidgeting, Gerry expressed, "Is this really necessary?"
"I'm almost finished," Johnny placated, starting to become frustrated. Gerry's showed signs of stress; his blood pressure elevated, but considering the circumstances were normal.
An officer made his way toward the engine.
"Vince," Johnny acknowledged.
"Johnny," Vince returned, walking past the engine and heading to the man sitting on the blanket.
Both ambulances arrived minutes apart. As the younger paramedic finished his exam he told one of the ambulance drivers that Jack was ready for transport. The man walked unaided into the ambulance, with Vince following still asking questions. The attendants from the second ambulance brought out a stretcher.
Johnny relayed vitals and findings on the elder McDonald. No evidence of concussion, but with the elevated blood pressure, and Gerry's age coming into play, Rampart suggested a trip in.
"I'm not leaving without my son.," Gerry stated emphatically.
Johnny reported this to Rampart.
"51, let the patient sit quietly until transport. Monitor BP en route. What about vitals on the third victim?"
"We're working on it Rampart, standby for vitals. Be advised victim one en-route at this time."
"Al," Johnny addressed one of the ambulances attendants, pulling him aside and lowering his voice, "keep an eye on Gerry would ya? I'm going over to help Roy."
"Sure Johnny," Al answered.
"Gerry," Johnny told the agitated man, "Al will stay with you while I go check on your son."
Vince waited until Johnny left before he began asking Gerry questions for his report.
A small area had been dug and cleared on the passenger side of the truck when Johnny joined his crew-mates. Looking through the unbroken passenger window, the seat belted victim lay slumped over, unconscious. The windshield on the driver's side had partly caved in. Stone had spilled into the cab covering the seat and encasing his lower extremities. A cut on the bridge of his nose slowly dripped blood.
Gaining access through the passenger side door proved no easy feat. Marco and Chet, both sweating extensively, managed to wrench the door open with crowbars. Rocks shifted and poured from the cab at their feet. Carefully removing gravel from inside the cab the paramedics uncovered the victim's legs, both tightly wedged under the buckled dashboard.
Roy looked to Mike, "We're gonna need the jaws."
The junior paramedic suggested, "Short-board Roy?"
Roy approved.
"I'll get it," Marco volunteered.
Reaching in and gently grasping a wrist, Johnny felt a steady bumping against his fingers. "He's alive." He told his partner. "Pulse is steady." He gently placed a nasal cannula under the man's nose and switched on the oxygen. He then secured a cervical collar in place, softly checking the nose for a fracture.
Macro returned with the backboard.
The victim groaned.
"Roy he's coming around."
"Easy Sean," Johnny cautioned, "you've been involved in an automobile accident. You need to stay still and calm for me."
Dazed Hazel eyes opened to Johnny's voice.
"W-What…?
"Easy."
Giving another groan, not quite with it yet, Sean's face reflected his pain. He pulled at the cannula. "Jesus, my legs hurt," he said groggy. His eyes went round in panic as the full extent of his predicament slammed home, "Dad!"
Johnny's responded instantly, gently placing the cannula back on Sean's face. "Your father is fine Sean. He wasn't seriously hurt."
The younger McDonald moaned, filled with anxiety. "I just started working with him. He's gotta be through the roof over this—never gonna forgive me for wrecking his truck."
"You don't worry about that now," Johnny soothed. "We'll have you outta here soon." He could see Sean needed further reassurance. "Try and relax. The whole time I was with your father he didn't sound angry but worried." He took Sean's blood pressure. "BP is 130/90, Roy. Tell me where you're hurting, Sean."
"Legs and neck hurt the most."
"Alright Sean," the senior paramedic explained when Johnny removed the BP cuff, "we're going to slip this back board behind you. It's to protect your spine as a precaution. We'll do the work. Let us know if anything hurts."
Roy made sure he had the short back-board positioned precisely in the center between the seat and Sean's back, strapping it to his body. To this he added a soft neck support placed on either side of the c-collar for added stability. Sean's head was then strapped to the board with the fastening coming around his forehead.
"How are you doing Sean?' Roy asked, retaking his pulse, respiration and BP. Sean was fully alert now, displaying no sign of respiratory issues. His pulse remained steady along with his BP. Roy couldn't believe the man's good fortune.
Sean grimaced, "What about the other driver?
"He's doing well. How's the leg pain?"
"Tolerable."
Mike returned with the Jaws, told the trapped man what they were planning to do, positioned the extrication tool's tip just under the smashed dash and floor, and covered the top half of Sean's body with Johnny's turnout coat. Safety goggles in place he powered up the machine. The crunch of metal could be heard, as the jaws opened up a space wide enough to free the man's legs.
"Oh man!" Sean cried, at the release of his legs against the dash.
"Hang in there," Roy encouraged, "you're doing fine."
Carefully Johnny pressed into the cab feeling for broken bones. Amazingly there weren't any.
"Where ready to move you Sean. Try and relax as much as you can. Let us do the heavy stuff."
"No problem, just do it."
Cautiously, the paramedics slid the accident victim from the crushed front end of his vehicle.
"Easy," Roy crooned, "easy."
Placed on a long board Sean's rescuer's carried him toward the triage area. Treatment commenced. Sean's father no longer able to stay seated hovered nervously nearby rubbing his neck and jaw.
"Son, you okay?"
"I'm okay Dad. Forgive me for wrecking the truck."
"Sean, you think I care about the damn truck? I'm thankful you weren't killed!"
The younger McDonald had no sign of concussion. His nose wasn't broken. His left knee showed indications of swelling with a dark bruise forming. A gash to his right leg would need stitches and a thorough cleaning, but the bleeding had slowed, and unbelievably there weren't any sign of severe or internal injury. If 51's men weren't looking at clear evidence they wouldn't have believed it. Dr. Morton ordered an IV of normal saline, and MS for the pain. After bandaging the gash and immobilizing the knee the lucky victim was ready for transport.
"Sir you can ride up front—" Hank stopped short. He found Gerry leaning up against the ambulance looking positively ill.
"Not feeling well," the man confirmed.
"DeSoto!"
Roy came around the side of the ambulance to see his captain lowering a very pale Gerry to the ground.
"Take it slow," Hank advised Gerry.
Grabbing the spare oxygen canister off the squad, Roy hurried to the fallen man's side, checking his pulse finding it rapid and weak. He gave him oxygen via nasal cannula.
"What happened?" He began loosening the distressed man's clothing.
"He complained of being unwell."
Johnny!" Roy shouted. "Cap can you have Chet stay with the Sean?"
"Gerry, are you experiencing chest pain?" Roy asked the heavily sweating man.
"No," Gerry answered. "More like heaviness, weak, kinda sick. My heart feels like it's beating outside my chest."
From within the back of the ambulance Roy heard Sean shout, "What's happening?" and Chet's calm reply, "Its okay man, the paramedics are looking at your father now."
Grabbing the defibrillator and setting up the bio-phone once again Johnny looked to Roy, "Did I miss something?"
Reestablishing a connection to Rampart, Johnny repeated the initial report on Gerry, his age and weight, and told Rampart to stand by for vitals, which he gathered. Roy patched him to the heart-monitor.
"Rampart vitals are, BP 135/80, respiration 28; Pulse 176 and regular. We have patient on 4 liters of oxygen. Patient is conscious and denies chest pain but is complaining of a sudden onset of chest heaviness, body weakness, and nausea. Sending you a strip. This will be leed two."
The monitor showed a ventricular tachycardia with a rate of 155.
After a slight hesitation, Dr. Morton ordered, "51 start IV normal saline, TKO. Administer Lidocaine, 1 mg/kg IV bolus. Keep him on O2. Repeat vitals."
Gerry's heart rhythm stabilized after an additional "push" of 0.75 mg of Lidocaine. Placed in the ambulance along with his son they soon were headed toward Rampart.
Roy rode in with the patients.
When the two paramedics hooked up at the nurses station, Roy could tell something was troubling his partner. "What's wrong?"
Rubbing his chin Johnny said, "I can't help think I screwed up."
"No you didn't, junior. Brackett and I would have been all over you, if you had."
"Roy—"
"No. We base our findings on what a patient tell us along with the physical exam. He chose not to tell us of his earlier heart attack and he didn't present with initial symptoms."
Dixie remarked, "Sounds like an eventful run for you boys."
"It made up for a slack morning," Roy enlightened the ER head nurse. "How's the first victim doing?"
"Treated and released, he needed five stitches."
Johnny gave his opinion. "Weird is how I'd put it. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy everyone involved escaped serious injury—especially the son. I didn't expect him to make it out of the truck without a severe crush injury. I would have bet money on it. The father is another story."
Roy explained for Dixie's benefit, "During assessment, Johnny asked the father if he'd had earlier or ongoing problems with his heart. The man withheld he'd had a previous heart attack eight months ago. He also neglected to mention he was on a beta blocker, and decided to recently stop taking it without telling anyone."
"For heaven sake," Dixie exclaimed, "I wonder why he kept the information to himself? Didn't the son mention anything?"
Roy enlightened her, "This is where the story takes a turn. The son learned about his father's first heart-attack on the way in. It seems the two had a major falling out, hadn't talked for a several years, and only recently came together again. The family never notified the son about the father's hospitalization. He feels responsible; he thinks reconciling wasn't such a good idea convinced the circumstances of his working for his father facilitated his father's attack. I tried to convince him it wasn't his fault, but I don't think I got through. He told us his family blames him for his father's first attack, stating the stress of job and his son being gone. Crazy."
"I'd say." Dixie agreed, "Families are so complicated."
Seated on the passenger side of the squad during the return trip to the station Roy announced, "Since we have the Fourth of July off Joanne suggested a get-together at the house, instead of hanging out at the beach with the kids."
"Oh yeah? Who ya gonna invite?"
"Jo's working on the list. You know how complicated it can get with who's working, who's not working, who's away, etc."
"I don't envy Joanne that task," Johnny grinned looking into the side mirror.
"If you're around—"
"I thought maybe I'd spend the day hiking though nothings finalized."
Roy nodded. Johnny went camping or hiking on a regular basis. "Jo suggested inviting the Browns. Ryan might like meeting the kids. What do you think?"
Johnny considered the suggestion. "I think Ryan and Chris would get along great. I've asked permission to see Ryan once a week, kind a like a big brother."
This wasn't news to Roy as he had overheard the phone conversation Johnny had this morning. "It's very generous of you, sharing time with Ryan. I can see it being a positive experience for the both of you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, partner," Roy answered honestly.
To everyone else Johnny might seem back to his old self but Roy could detect something buried beneath the surface. Johnny hadn't talked about his trip to Montana and even though he was curious as hell, he wouldn't ask. Johnny did things on his own time-table and Roy respected it. Although his friend had been repeatedly warned about becoming emotionally involved with Ryan's problem, Johnny couldn't ignore it. He felt a strong connection to the boy and wouldn't or couldn't just walk away.
Watching the scenery roll by Roy said, "I'll have Joanne add them to the list." He switched topics. "What time are you planning on coming over tomorrow to help with the gutters?"
Johnny blurted, "Oh man, was that tomorrow, Roy?" A puzzled frown crinkled his brow. He had volunteered to help Roy with the project on their next scheduled day off.
Seeing the "look" Roy leveled at him, Johnny burst into laughter.
Realizing he'd just been had, Roy warned, "Careful there junior, or you might find yourself back on this side of the truck."
A hint of humor tinted Johnny's words while trying to appear serious, "Oh, so sorry, pally, won't happen again."
The next day the off duty paramedic slept until two o'clock, took care of his laundry, helped Roy clean his gutters, and had a great evening. He'd taken out Olivia Moore, a young nurse working in radiology. It went reasonably well even though it had ended earlier than both wanted. Olivia had work early in the morning. She did hint she'd be open for a second date. Whistling as he came to his apartment door he heard the jingling of the phone. Hurriedly entering, he picked up the receiver in mid-ring.
Johnny?" His sister's voice came over the line.
"Hi Pipsqueak," Johnny alert to the quirky sound to her tone, glanced at the clock. It was going on 10:30 PM. "Is everything okay? It's kinda late for you isn't it?"
"Nope."
"No, everything isn't okay or no it isn't late?" Since his return from Montana, he talked with Lisa regularly. She normally didn't call this late in the evening.
"It's daddy."
"What's wrong?" His voice deepened with tension.
"He had one of those heart pains. He gets them mostly in the morning, but he had one a little while ago. Daddy told me he was fine after, but he went to bed. He never goes to sleep before me, I'm scared."
Johnny heard his sister's fear. "What was he doing, Lisa, when he started feeling ill?"
"Watching TV, a baseball game I think."
"Did he get upset?"
"His team was losing, but he didn't care."
"Did you call your mother?" His step-mother, a psychiatric nurse worked the second shift at the community hospital in Glacial County.
"Mommy told me she had to wait for her replacement before she could leave."
"Let me have the phone number to the hospital and I'll call her," Johnny told his eight year old half-sister. "It'll be okay. You can call the Fosters if you need help honey, or an ambulance."
"I know. It's just—I'm not supposed to say anything 'bout this, but Daddy hasn't been the same since you left. He's been really quiet and sad most days. I miss the old Daddy."
Not having an answer for her he declined to comment. His father had extended the olive branch by apologizing to him for his years of misery, looking for forgiveness. He had not been able to grant it. The scars he bore from the emotional and physical battering were deeply embedded.
"Do you wanna talk with Daddy?" Lisa asked hopefully.
Johnny hesitated before answering, "Yeah let me talk with him, but first tell me the number to the hospital."
Lisa supplied him with the number, "I'll go wake Daddy."
A minute passed before Johnny heard another phone being picked up.
"John?" His father questioned his words sleep weighted, "what's this about?"
"Lisa called me and said you didn't feel well tonight?"
"She shouldn't have bothered you about this."
Johnny couldn't miss the edge to his father's voice, so he cut right to the chase. "How are you feeling now?"
"I'm surprised to hear you asking. I told Lisa I'm fine, just tired." His voice sounded off, strained and flat, suffused with a trace of anger. "Did you want anything else?"
His father struck him as being stable. He wasn't hearing signs of distress in his tone, "No. If you say you're alright then I'll let you go back to sleep. I'm sorry I disturbed you. Let me talk with Lisa before you hang up."
He listened as his father instructed Lisa to use the phone in the living room."
"Johnny, I think I made Daddy mad," She sounded worried, "I shouldn't have called you."
"No Lisa you did the right thing by calling me."
"Kay J-Johnny."
He got the feeling at any moment she would burst into tears.
There was only so much he could do from a distance. He tried calming his sister, "Listen honey, Dad said he was okay and I believe him. You're mom will be home soon. You should head off to bed."
"Shouldn't I wait up for Mommy?"
"Sweetheart it isn't necessary, but if it'll make you feel better grab a blanket and lay on the couch until your mom comes in."
"Thanks Johnny. I knew you would help."
"That's what a big brother is for."
"Old brother you mean?" Lisa giggled."
"Watch it, brat."
"Wait, don't' hang up yet. I wanna tell you I wrote to Jennifer."
"She'll like that small fry. I hope you two can become friends."
"Me too."
"Are you feeling better?"
Yep. Bye Firefly." The nickname gave him a start. He'd given her permission to use it; it was just strange to hear it from her.
Before he changed his mind he dialed the number to the community hospital. He waited while they connected him to the proper floor and located his stepmother.
Her greeting was devoid of warmth.
"I planned on phoning you Johnny, it's time I let you in on a few things." An underlying inflection of anger surfaced as she talked. "The aftermath of your visit has had repercussions none of us are ready for."
"What are you talking about, Liz?"
She disclosed his father had suffered two more angina attacks since the one he witnessed a few weeks ago. "He's refusing to let Doctor Logan run another ECG."
"You're angry with me."
Instead of an acknowledging his question she told him, "I'd warned your sister against mentioning this in her letters or phone conversations, but you might as well know. You're father is suffering from depression."
"Lisa mentioned it tonight."
"She doesn't understand his refusal to do things he once enjoyed with her. John's retreated into this brooding silent world."
Filtering through her anger he heard an underlying fear.
"You're visit—" she confirmed, "hit him hard. He's going through his own self-inflicted, what ifs."
"I hope you aren't holding me responsible."
Sighing, "When you left you made it clear you weren't interested in mending fences, Johnny. He's been depressed over this ever since."
"I don't know what to tell you," He said coolly.
"If you aren't troubled about his welfare can I ask you why you called me tonight?"
"I never implied I wasn't interested in his welfare, but I called for Lisa's sake."
"I see."
He got the impression she wasn't buying his answer.
"If you knew me better Johnny you would know I'm a straight-hip shooter. You can tell me to butt out, get lost, whatever—after I'm done. The person who abused you years ago no longer exists. In his place sits a stranger you do not understand, and this frightens you."
He inhaled sharply, "What? Where are we going with this, Liz?"
"Lisa and I play second fiddle to his past. The shadow of his former family is always present."
As she talked Johnny could hear the hospital's intercom going off in the background.
"He held on to the belief that one day his son would come home. Now that you have, and it didn't work out the way he envisioned it would, the hope is gone and he's seeing this as a failure. I caught him looking at his AA chip," she shared. "This is the first time since he's been clean and sober I am afraid he may—slide. I warned him this could happen."
Johnny ran a hand through his hair. He felt like a child being chastised. He didn't mention the brief stiff phone conversation he'd just had with his father. "I made him no promises."
"I know you didn't. He figured you would at least talk to him over the phone when you called for Lisa, yet you haven't. I hate being a hard-ass—you came back into our lives Johnny. He didn't seek you out. Lisa did. While I'm happy you embraced her as family and want to share in her life, something you said when you were here has since bothered me."
A decided frost entered his tone, "Go on."
"You thought because your father remarried, and wanted a child, he'd somehow erased you and the memory of your mother from the picture. It isn't so, in fact just the opposite. He wanted a child to bring back what he' lost. He still visits the grave of your mother. He loves his daughter there no mistaking it but mourns a life gone, and the lost connection of a son."
He absently began to twirl the phone cord in his hands. "Liz, he wants more from me than I can give at this point. I don't know if I can ever give him what he's looking for."
"I fully respect your choice not to have a relationship with him, Johnny. I'm not asking you too, but I want you to understand something. Everything isn't painted black and white. There is a gray area here. John pulled his life together, the intention? Seeking you out aiming for reconciliation. It didn't happen."
His hand tightened around the phone cord. "I'd rather not discuss my—"
"Please let me finish," She said swiftly, "I'm taking this opportunity while I have it. He sent you letters you never received. Your aunt prevented you from knowing his intentions—had him believing you wanted no contact. He respected those wishes thinking they were yours. The reasoning behind why your aunt did what she did is up for interpretation. Think on this, Johnny. If your aunt hadn't interfered things may have turned out differently between you two."
"I can't change what my aunt did, Liz," His explanation sharp and to the point. The pain of his aunt's deception, still fresh and keenly felt, left a sour taste in his mouth. I imagine she thought she was protecting me. Why are we discussing my aunt anyway? It has no bearing on why I called you."
She brushed aside his answer. "In an odd way it does."
Johnny was fast becoming impatient with this conversation. "I won't let him off the hook this easily." He felt the pressure of the phone cord wrapped around his hand and released the tension. He noted it left a red welt.
"Forgiveness doesn't mean letting one-off the hook for past injustices, Johnny. You should hold him accountable for those actions. True forgiveness involves a progression of steps; only to achieve them you must want to take the first step."
"What is it you're asking Liz?" Johnny hated psycho-babble. "Get to the point."
"Like it or not, whether it is by fates hand, or the divine power of the universe, you have become intertwined in our lives through Lisa. I'm asking you to attempt the first step for the sake of Lisa's future. If John falters now, Lisa's world will change and not for the better."
An unpleasant sensation entered the pit of his stomach. Her reasons were sound. Liz understood her job well. She knew just what to say and how far to go with it, adding to his displeasure. Lisa was now part of his life. The last thing he wanted to see happen was his sister's childhood sacrificed to his father's indifference like his had been. What made it worse? Liz knew this too.
"You weren't exaggerating about being a heavy hitter," He said testily.
Ignoring his remark, "No one can erase the past for you Johnny; it will always be a part of your life story. There's opportunity here. To move forward. To change the memory. It's up to you to take it. All I'm asking of you is to give it some thought."
A deep male voice interrupted, "Excuse me Liz, you can leave when you're ready,"
Ah, my replacement is here. I'll have a talk with Lisa about calling so late."
"Please don't. I want Lisa to feel comfortable calling me when she needs too."
"We'll talk again soon," Liz finalized. "Think about what I've said Johnny."
"Sure," he commented now wearing a frown his good mood shattered.
His stepmother's words continued to sound long after he hung up.
Roy asked his preoccupied partner the next morning, "What's wrong with you? Date didn't go well last night?"
"Huh? No, the date went fine."
"Then why the long face?"
"It's nothing." Changing the subject he said, "So what did you do after I left?"
"You mean after I mowed the lawn, used the weed whacker, and dug a couple of holes for Joanne's new plantings?"
"Okay," Johnny grinned, "I get it. You were busy."
"Believe me I would have much rather watched the kids play in the back yard. At least then I'd have sat."
Slinking into the room Chet commented, "I thought you'd be tired of watching kids Roy, cuz don't you gotta watch Johnny-boy every day?"
"Ha ha. Get lost Kelly," Johnny ordered tucking his shirt into his pants.
"Guess if you're gonna be that way, you don't need to hear the news I have," the Irishman wore a smug look rocking on his feet.
"What news?" Johnny said before thinking. He could smell a set-up.
Wearing a downright wolfish grin, he said, "The chick who works in admitting, the foxy one? I think her name is Denise? Johnny you know her cause she blew you off when ya asked her out."
Johnny rolled his eyes. "Her name is Denise. What about her?"
"The crazy chick asked Bellingham out on a date."
"Are you for real?" Johnny said.
"Jackson from 95s let it slip last night. He's dating the girl's roommate."
"Are you sure he said Bellingham?"
"Positive."
"C'mon guys," Roy attempted to still Chet's gossip. It had landed the man into trouble on a few occasions, "It isn't our business."
"Roy, good buddy, I've tried to tell ya this before. It's okay to be mean once in a while," Chet's laughter rang loud in the locker room. "The chick is certifiable is all I'm sayin'." Chet slapped Johnny on the back, "Ya must be losing your touch dude." His laughter followed him from the room.
When his partner said nothing Roy eyed Johnny sharply, "Okay, now I know something's up."
"Whuddaya mean?" Johnny closed his locker.
"Chet purposely told you that story to get a rise out of you. You didn't bite. Wanna talk about whatever it is that's got you a million miles away?"
"Not a million Roy, only a thousand and if I thought it would do any good I'd talk about it."
"We've been down this rocky path before junior," Roy warned.
"Then here's some advice for ya— step off—or find a smoother path."
Johnny's flippancy left the senior paramedic at a complete loss for something to say.