Sound Mind and Sound Body

Chapter Two: Stronger in the Broken Places

Charles rode his bike hurriedly through the park. In the two months since David's diagnosis, he and his Dad had been diligent about practicing and taking the sign language classes. Mum had sat in on a couple of sessions, but often had trouble. Most of the time she observed her husband and son communicate with the baby, and tried to learn through them. But, she complained of being a slow learner and was often embarrassed when she made little mistakes. Many times Emma clammed up when she tried to communicate with her youngest son. So she relied on Will or Charles to act as interpreter for her. It was a bit daft, Charles asked, David was a baby and he wouldn't be understood anyway. Didn't all babies make noise? But his Mum said that it wasn't the noise, it was the silence and gestures that bothered her. " I can handle a crying baby, I've done that before," She said to her embarrassed older son. "But ,when he's pointing, how do I know what he's pointing at?" So, that's why he hurried home. Dad would be working a shift soon and Charles had to be home to help his Mum.

He ran his bike through the park while a couple of boys his age were playing football. He was preoccupied thinking of the trouble that he got into in school, another reason that he was in a rush to head home. Really, it wasn't his fault. Helena Mitchellson had passed him a note and Mr. Lancaster caught him reading it. He read the note aloud to the laughing class and a very blushing Charles. The instructor could be rather cruel that way.

Anyway, it wasn't that big a deal not some soppy romantic note anyway. Helena asked Charles if he wanted to walk home with her. The young boy didn't like Helena and they were certainly going to be walking with her cousin, Henny, a girl who Charles really didn't like. But, she would make him feel embarrassed if he refused, so he darted home after the last bell rang, before she had a chance to catch up to him.

Charles' mind was on his dilemmas at school and home that he didn't notice the football until it hit him square on the back of the head and he tumbled off his bike. "Sorry," a voice called.

Charles turned to the direction of the missed football and a boy his own age who looked embarrassed. He was fair-haired and still retained his baby fat. He had a very friendly, but shy expression and was dressed in a public school uniform. The boy jogged towards him. "Sorry, again," he said. His accent and uniform suggested that he came from a wealthy family, but he had a very friendly demeanour that seemed to recognize no class distinctions or barriers.

"It's alright," Charles said. "Just give me a minute to remember my number." He paused for a second. "Ah, there it is."

The other kid laughed. "Anyway, I was trying to remember the save Gordon Banks did against Pele in the Cup and I messed up."

"Well I think you got it wrong," Charles said.

The other kid blinked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well unless my head is the goal post you got it completely off," Charles said. He jumped off his bike. "Here let me show you. I'm Charles by the way." He shook the other's boy hand.

"I'm Tom," the other boy replied. Charles and Tom moved closer to the playing field. The stands were empty except for a dark-haired girl wearing a bored expression and reading a fashion magazine. She looked about Charles and Tom's age but very made-up. She reclined in a position to make her appear older and cooler than the immature boys around her. Like Tom, she was also dressed in a public school uniform.

Charles and Tom practiced a few kicks moving the ball towards each other and saving it from each other. The two boys laughed enjoying the one-on-one game. "Okay watch this," Tom yelled. He held the ball in his hand and gave it a forceful kick. This time sending the ball right in front of the girl. She stared dumbstruck for a second as her magazine fell from her hands under the stands. "Tom," she yelled through gritted teeth.

"Sorry Fifi," Tom apologized. He nodded at her, "My sister." He explained to Charles.

The girl, Fifi, stomped her foot and glared. "Bugger off, Tom!" Charles ran up to the stands and picked up the girl's magazine. He could see it was the French version of Vogue and featured Catherine Denevue on the cover. He handed it to the girl. "I'm sorry," Charles said. "Here you are."

The girl looked stunned at the boy. "Thank you-" she paused.

"Oh, Charles," Charles replied. "Nice to meet you, Fifi."

"Fiona," the girl corrected. She smiled again. She was about to say more when a voice called, "Master Tom, Miss Fiona, it's time to go."

Tom and Fiona looked up to see a middle-aged woman call to them and wave her hand forward. "Yes, Mrs. Staples," the two said in unison.

Fiona picked up her magazine and Tom grabbed his football as they followed the woman. "Thank you, Charles." Fiona said.

"Yeah it was a good game," Tom said.

"You too," Charles said. "You're welcome, Fiona." He waved the two kids good-bye. He enjoyed hanging out with them. They both seemed like fun, even Fiona in her own way. He should have gotten their phone number. He glanced at his watch 4:30 p.m.! "Bugger," Charles yelled and ran towards his bike cycling home like a madman.

When Charles returned home, the house was in complete disarray. David was sitting on the kitchen floor, sobbing. His face was red and tears rolled down his cheeks. He pointed at the counter and made noises sounding like a small animal.

"David please shut up," His mother begged wearily. She sat at the kitchen table, her hand on her forehead and her hair askew. Her hair was in a small ponytail earlier. However, it hung messy as she ran her fingers through it. Her fuchsia turtle neck and white short skirt were stylish but right now, they were wrinkled and a complete mess. Emma looked at her son, her make up running down her face. She looked so much like a clown that Charles wanted to laugh, but the glazed look in his mother's eyes told him that it was not wise. "Where the hell were you?" she choked."You were supposed to be home half an hour ago."
Charles looked down at his shoes. "I'm sorry, mum," he said. Why did he always do something to make her upset with him?
"I um fell off my bike and-"

Emma held up her hand to silence her son. "I don't know what he's saying," she said her voice choked with tears. "This house is a mess. I need your help, Charlie. I don't need you to give me rudding excuses!" She grabbed her son's arms and forcefully pushed him. Charles winced in pain as his mother's long fingernails dug into him.

Charles screamed in pain. "I'm sorry Mum," he repeated. "I'm sorry I made you mad at me."

Emma pushed her son into the kitchen. "Will you please tend to your brother?" Even though it was phrased as a question, Charles could tell that his mother wanted complete obedience.

Charles knelt down to David taking out the small phrase book that the sign language interpreter gave him for class. He read through and waved at his baby brother. He signed and made exaggerated gestures for Hi.

David stopped crying long enough to look at his brother. Charles sniffed realizing that David didn't need changing, so he picked up the stool and motioned to the cupboard. He pointed at his brother's sipping cup and mimed for drinking. David made a happy noise. Charles then jumped down from the shelf glad he was on the right track. He then opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of juice and again made the drinking sign. David continued to give that same delighted noise as Charles poured his baby brother's juice for him and handed it to him. David then took the sippy cup and drank peacefully.

"All he wanted was some juice, mum," Charles said. He looked down as David removed the cup from his mouth, pointed at the sitting room and made a fist towards his mouth and sucked his thumb."-And his dummy." Charles answered as he picked up his little brother's pacifier from the bag near his pram. He washed it in the kitchen sink. Charles reached down and wiped his baby brother's face with wet cloth and put the pacifier in his mouth.

David reached up to his mother,his arms wide open. Emma gave her son an awkward pat on the head, then stood up keeping her hands to herself. Charles then waved at his little brother and knelt down. He picked him up and then carried him to the sitting room, his brother across his right hip and holding the sippy cup. David had the pacifier in his mouth as they moved. Emma followed the two brothers into the room, observing as Charles made faces at David as he drank. "He understood you," Emma said her voice hollow. "How?"

Charles shrugged. "I don't know, I just started doing a lot of signs with him. Some of them aren't really the ones in the book. I guess he just copies me and knows what I'm trying to ask him."

Emma gave a small thin smile and looked towards the kitchen. "The kitchen is a mess," she said in a monotone voice. "It needs to be cleaned. I need the floor to be scrubbed. Will you do that for me, Charles?"

She grabbed onto her son's arm again. Charles was about to say that he couldn't and that he had plenty of homework and an exam to study for (not a complete lie), but the way that she looked at him frightened him. He nodded.

Two hours later, Charles looked up from the bucket filled with soapy water and the sponge. His arms, back, and legs ached from bending over, but he did not complain about it. He knew that his mother would become angrier than ever. She often followed her son as he cleaned, checking for even the slightest bit of dust. Then she would make him go over the spot where she noticed it, several once in awhile, she would become so furious that she would push his face down to the spot to get a closer look so he could agree with her. Thankfully, she didn't do that this even returned to her bathroom to retouch her make up. Charles often noticed that she was only concerned about cleaning the house when she was upset about something else as though it were a distraction from other things on her mind. So, she focused on the house. If the house wasn't up to her specifications, then she became more upset.

Charles looked down at the sponge and bucket not looking at his mother but he tensed. He felt almost like a medieval serf in the presence of a lady. Emma leaned down on the floor and then ran her finger alongside of it. "It looks...alright, you may go now," she said. Charles was about to stand, when his mother stayed his hand. "But first, I want to talk with you," she said.

Charles wearily sat down as his Mum hesitated. "Charles, it's your father's turn in the rotation to be on call so that means that he won't be home tomorrow," Charles nodded. "I need you to stay home to look after things for me."

Charles' mouth dropped open. "Mum, I can't. I've been absent too many times this term already and I have an exam tomorrow, I've been studying for know Dad didn't like it when I had to last time. Besides Mr. Lancaster-"

"-I'll explain it to him," Emma said. "I'll think of father will be out all day, so he doesn't have to know. It will be our little secret. Besides,is school more important to you than your family? Please, David understands you. He doesn't understand me. You abandoned me already today. Please, Charlie I need you!"

Charles sighed. Why did she demand so much from him? He felt the scratches on his arms. Would she hurt him if he refused? But then again would it be something that his father would hear about later and be yet another reason for them to fight? Besides, he liked school. He almost considered it a place of rest away from his mother's and brother's needs where he could be with his friends.

"Mum," He began but then saw her eyes water and her lip quiver. She thankfully wasn't turning into her Mother personality, but she was becoming Mummy, or perhaps she had been all day. Mummy needed to be cared for as well as David.

Charles felt a lump in his throat about being late. He should have come home on time. He should have been there for his mother and brother. Why did he always mess up? Before he could say anymore he nodded. "Alright, Mum," he sighed. "I'm sorry about today."

Charles rose to go to his bedroom. His mother wore a different expression, one more of guilt and shame. "Charlie-" she began. Her older son stopped, but the expression changed and she smiled. "Thank you." The young boy nodded and returned to his room.

Even though, Charles didn't have to go to school tomorrow, he took out his school books and papers. Everything had to be right and perfect, so he worked on his homework. He spent an hour, reading, taking notes, writing answers, correcting and revising, and studying to hand to his teacher. When he finally finished, he sank down on the bed so exhausted that he slept with his clothes on.

The next day, Emma Carton lit her candles and incense and sat cross legged across the small Buddha statue. She put her hands together feeling the pranic energy pull through her fingertips, then chanted an "om." She felt her spirit rise as though she were weightless soaring above London. She felt like if she wanted to then she could fly. This was the most enlightening part of her day to feel a part of everything and at peace with herself. During these times, she was no longer a bored housewife approaching 30 with a husband that she no longer felt anything for beyond contempt for his protectiveness and two sons, one whom she couldn't communicate with and the other one who loathed and feared her. Instead she felt like a spirit of light one who could flit about among the rooftops and trees. That was who she wanted to be.

A loud cry disturbed her thoughts and anchored her to the present and to her own life. Emma sighed, blew out the candles and stifled the incense and returned to her youngest son's bedroom. Unlike yesterday's disaster, there was no doubt what David's problem was. She was about to wake Charles up to take care of it, but decided instead to look after this one on her own. She sighed as she changed the baby's nappy. Was this really what her life was about? Not just this particular task, but the demands of both of her children and her husband?

Emma felt like that she was sleepwalking through her life, not really a part of it or anything else for that matter. David reached up to hug his mother across the neck. She only absently returned the affection with a quick kiss, not feeling anything but uncomfortable at his spittle running down her chin. It was bad enough that Charles and David demanded so much of herself, now she had to live with the baby's deafness. When Emma saw Will and Charles effortlessly sign to each other, their fingers flying in conversation, she felt envious and shame that she couldn't even learn the basic letters or words. After awhile, she just gave up trying and closed herself off emotionally from her younger son blocking any attempts for closeness.

Besides her embarrassment at her lack of communication skills, she was afraid of herself with him, as afraid as she was with Charles. She hated having Charles do so thinking about the previous day filled her with self-loathing. A ten year old boy should not have to care for his mother as though she were a spoiled angry child who threw tantrums at the slightest provocation.

There were times when she felt like a spectator in her own emotional outbursts, unable to stop herself before she hurt her sons with words or her hands. She saw the panicked fear in her older son's eyes and knew that she caused it. Could she pass that fear to another child? No, it was better to emotionally cut herself off from David than have him live with fearing the woman that he called mother. It was better to just tolerate the boy's existence and not have him live with the years of disappointment and broken promises that his brother had.

She put the baby back into his bed, wanting to return to the meditation but she lost the momentum of it. Unlike many of her past pursuits to distract herself from the monotony of her life and her raging emotions, this one stayed with her. She tried many things therapy, drugs, alcohol, shopping,different hobbies-was even institutionalized for a period of months after Charles was born- but nothing seemed to work until she began to take her Yoga and meditation classes seriously. Oh she still got the urge to buy the most darling clothes, and she still needed her absinthe and Vallium-after all she was no saint- but she recognized a wholeness in this spirituality that she didn't have before. She discovered within her classmates and her instructor a strength and stability that she didn't have but desperately wanted and craved.

Emma suddenly felt confined in her house. She looked around feeling the walls closing in. Tears welled up in her eyes as she ran down the stairs. Her body shook as her heart clenched. Panic swelled through her body and mind. She struggled to get a hold of herself and tried to catch her breath. She slowly counted down feeling the madness pass, but she didn't feel any better. In fact, Emma felt empty inside. She glanced upstairs at the boy's bedroom and put on her shoes. She needed help and she needed to get out. Emma put on her jacket, briefly debating whether she should tell Charles where she was going. She shook her head, deciding not to since she didn't know where she was going herself. Besides Charles was good at handling things that's why she kept him at home today. Leaving no notice and having no idea where she was going, Emma walked out the door.

David's loud wail started Charles out of his sleep, "Bugger," he cursed. He waited for a few minutes to see if his mum would respond but David's cries only grew louder. Charles jumped off his bed, cursed to himself, and left the bedroom to tend to his brother. After all that's what he agreed to stay home for.

Charles turned on the bedroom light and walked into his baby brother's room. "It's alright, Davey," Charles signed and said at the same time. "I'm here, Charlie's here." He picked David up balancing him on his hip and felt his bum. He needed changing so Charles ran to the cabinet where they kept the fresh nappies and wet cloth. He then returned to his brother's bedroom and changed his nappy. He turned away from the smell, but continued to work. He then put the nappy in the rubbish bin and washed his hands. Then returned to his brother to comfort him.

David was still crying up a storm as Charles sat him down on the rocking chair and rocked back and forth with him. With David in his arms, Charles could not sign without disrupting him but he held his brother closer and continued to whisper to him, "It's alright." The sign language instructor told them not to feel embarrassed if they use their mouths to speak with David instead of their hands. "It's a perfectly natural reaction. You can't always unlearn the years you spent speaking to each other. Also, it's good training for him to read lips as well," so Charles continued to whisper to his brother speaking into his slightly better ear.

Charles reached over and picked up one of David's toys, a plush clown with a nose that lit up. He turned on the nose to distract his younger brother, but David only cried harder. Charles held his brother closer and felt his forehead. It felt warm. He then looked closer at the baby's face to see his flushed cheeks and forehead and glassy eyes. "Oh no," Charles panicked. He then ran to the lavatory and grabbed a thermometer, and put it under his brother's arm. David sobbed and began gagging. Charles tried to sign phrases like, "Big Brother is here," and "it's alright," putting his finger to his lips for emphasis, but it was hard to do it one handed and hold onto the baby at the same time. The thermometer read 102.5. Charles felt panic swell up. David was sick! What was he going to do? No sooner did Charles remove the thermometer from his brother, then David made one large gag and vomited onto his older brother's clothes.

"God, David," Charles whined as he searched for medicine. No he was out, besides he didn't know what medicine that David needed. He could be sick with anything! He ran for his mother's bedroom, but saw that it was empty. He stamped his foot upset and worried as he struggled with his brother. Should he call an ambulance? Should he call his father? What if he or Mum got in trouble? This was his fault again! What was he supposed to do?

He wrapped his arms around his younger brother in a tight hug and ran downstairs. "Don't worry," he said to his little brother. "I'll get help." He first dialed 999. The operator took his information and said that an ambulance will be on its way. He then dialed the number of his father's hospital, almost before he could stop himself, and told the receptionist, "Dr. William Carton please. It's an emergency!"

Will stood next to his colleagues over the patient. A young man was having cardiac troubles and needed stabilizing. Will held out his hand to the young nurse by his side. "Scalpel," he said. The nurse handed him the scalpel. Will looked at it up and down with mock surprise. "This is a scalpel? Oh that's a relief." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the nurse's eyes widen obviously fearful of the surgeon's presumed lack of medical knowledge.

The older nurse, Will's friend Madge, glanced sarcastically at the younger one. "He's kidding, Kate," she said. "I hope."

"Just having a lark," Will agreed. "Trying to lighten the mood." Even though she was in a surgical mask like her colleagues, Kate's eyes clearly seemed to relax and she gave a nervous laugh. He continued to work on the patient opening up the inside. "Now here comes the really fun icky part. Turn your heads if you're squeamish."

"Don't mind Will," Madge said. "He's a terror to all of the new people."

"Why Madge," Will said shocked. "I can't believe that you would spread such lies about me! I'm a terror to everyone get it right."

"Oh of course, silly me. I should have remembered," Madge wryly responded.

"Oh Madge, whatever would you do without me?" Will asked jovially.

"Really Will, I would love to find out someday," she challenged back. She playfully shoved her friend by the elbow in a sisterly manner which Will returned. Kate and the anesthesiologist glanced at each other amused.

Will continued to work on the patient as his heart rate began to increase on the monitor. "Alright," Will said. "Not 'The White Album' material but a wonderful beat anyway. I think our friend here is well on his way to recovery."

He continued to work as the intercom crackled. "Dr. William Carton you have a phone call, white outline phone, line 2."

Will rolled his eyes. "I'm right in the middle of something, Ivy," he called.

"It's an emergency concerning your son," Ivy called.

Will looked towards the nurses to the patient. He was almost finished. "Alright, give me a few minutes and I'll be right there." He stitched up the patient then changed from his surgical garb and scrubbed out.

Will approached the telephone expecting to hear the head master of Charles' school calling him. He was surprised to hear Charles' voice. "Dad, it's me!"

Will blanched. "Charlie, what's the matter?"

"It's David," Charles stammered. "He's really sick. He has a fever and he vomited all over me! I don't know what medicine to give him and I'm really scared-"

"Charlie, alright," Will said. "Now calm down and take a deep breath. First, why are you with David?"

He could just sense the tense silence before his son spoke. "Mum wanted me to stay home while you were on call. She didn't want you to know."

Will felt his anger simmer at his wife. He tried to keep it in to avoid exploding at his already fragile nervous son. He could hear David crying in the background. "Where is your mother now?"

"I don't know," Charles cried. "Am I in trouble?"

Will smiled despite the trouble. "No son, you're not." Your mother on the other hand, Will thought to himself. No time for that now. "What is his temperature?" "102.5"," Charles replied. "I called 999, they said an ambulance will be coming but it isn't here yet."

"It's alright son," will said. "You did the right thing. I'll be there as soon as I can."

He could hear a siren in the background and movement as though Charles rose to look out the window. "The ambulance is here, Dad."

"Good Charlie," Will said. "I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm sure he'll be alright." He said. "Don't worry, Daddy's here." He promised. Charles hung up the phone. Will rested his head on the phone jack and then rose to make arrangements for another doctor to take his place in surgery.

Charles and Will listened as Tricia explained that he had a tiny ear infection and needed penicilin. She gave them the perscription before they left. The two sat in the sitting room,after returning from the chemist and giving David his medicine. David instantly began to calm down and held onto a soft plush stuffed dog. while Will rocked his son back and forth in his pram, Charles continued reading The Story of My Life silently with tears in his eyes. "I know there are some sad scenes, but I didn't know they were that sad," Will quipped.

"I'm not crying about that Dad," Charles said. "I'm so daft. I really stuffed up today and yesterday. I wasn't home when Mum wanted me to be and now he got sick and I didn't know what to do!"

Will reached over and hugged his son. "Charles you did everything right today. You called for emergency, you rang me, you even locked the door on the door on the way out. There wasn't more that you could have done."Charles seemed unconvinced and Will shook his head. He loved his eldest son dearly, but he worried a lot and got nervous so easily. He was like those little dogs that constantly fussed and yipped until someone put a sweater on them when they were cold but ultimately proved to be loyal companions and loving protectors. Sometimes Charles reminded Will so much of his mother in that way. Will shuddered and prayed that his son wouldn't inherit any of Emma's worst traits. He broke himself from those dour thoughts to change the subject. He nodded at The Story of My Life. "Are you enjoying the book?" he asked.
Charles nodded. " Second time, I'm reading it. I tried to imagine what it was like when I first read it. I turned off all the lights, closed my eyes, and covered my ears in my room. I couldn't do it for a few minutes without bumping into things." He said. "I can't imagine what it was like for her or-" He glanced over at David not wanting to add 'or him' but silently thinking it anyway. "It must have been awful."

Will nodded."It probably was, but I think Helen Keller would have been the last person to need any sort of pity. Do you know what happened to her after she grew up?"

Charles nodded. "Besides writing this? I don't know."

"She became an author and lecturer," Will said. "She fought for women's votes, unions, on behalf of the poor, people with disabilities. She even had some very strong political opinions that put her at odds with everyone, even Annie Sullivan. She was a fighter, even from when she was a child and just continued to be so." He glanced over at his infant son. "I have a feeling your brother is the same way."

"If by fighter you mean that he cries all the time, and yells a lot then yeah you're right," Charles said. " FOr someone who's deaf, he can be quite loud." Both Charles and his father laughed at that ironic statement. "He can be a real brat."

"Well I knew a worse one," Will said dryly.

"I was not," Charles said shocked. He then thought. "I guess he's like Helen in the way that he just wants to be heard."

"I imagine so," Will said. "It's very hard for him to make himself be known. When he can't hear my voice, or your's, or your mother's. Can't hear music, or birds. But, he will manage. He's a tough little man, and I think this can only strengthen him. People are often stronger in the broken places. I believe Ernest Hemingway said that."

"I wish I were that strong," Charles said keeping his eyes on the book and lowering his voice so his father wouldn't hear. He felt tears come to his eyes once again.

Will put his hand on his older son's shoulder and tilted his chin up. He held out his hands and signed and spoke at the same time. "You are." He then gave Charles a large hug. "I am so proud of you today."

Charles pulled from his father and spoke and returned the sign. "Thanks, Dad."

Later that evening, Will and the boys had eaten their supper and were getting ready for bed when the phone rang. Will leaned over and answered it. "Hello?" he braced himself hoping that it wasn't the hospital.

An official sounding voice said on the phone. "Dr. William Carton? Are you the husband of Emmeline Carton?"

Will felt his heart sink. "Oh God! Yes. Is something wrong?"

"You could say that," the voice answered. "I'm PC Pembroke, of the Met and we are holding your wife."

"Dad what's going on?" Charles asked.

Will held up one finger for silence. "What happened?"

"Well for specific purposes, sir, we would prefer to discuss this in private," the officer replied.

"I'll be there," Will said. He hung up the phone and turned to the boys. He called their next-door neighbor to come and keep an eye on the boys.

"Dad, what's wrong? What's the matter with Mum?" Charles asked, his voice cracking.

Will leaned down and ruffled his son's hair. "I don't know, Charlie."He paced back and forth. "It's too late to call anyone." He then turned to his son. "Can you get your brother washed up and ready for bed?

"Yeah," Charles said." What is it?"

"I hope nothing bad," he said. "I want you to look after things until I return." He glanced towards his son as the boy straightened his back in almost heart breaking seriousness. Will was about to say more, but he shook his head. "It's short notice, Charlie, I will be back. I promise." He said before he left.

Will''s heart continued to thump wildly as he approached the police station and filled out the visitor's paperwork. He was greeted by the uniformed officer who led him to the holding cell. "Someone found her in the bushes behind their home near Kensington, babbling incoherently. They thought at first that she was violent, but she exhibited no tendencies of that and they rang us. She managed to tell us her full name and that's how we were able to locate did the tests and she wasn't intoxicated nor under any medicinal influences."

"She is a very ill woman sometimes," Will said sadly. "But she's not dangerous."

"Be that as it may sir," Pembroke reminded him. "She cannot be permitted to go off her rails like this."

He opened the door to the holding cell and Will saw Emma sitting in one corner of the cell, wearing a dejected expression on her face and nothing else. Her curly fair hair hung off her shoulders, surrounding her breasts, and haphazardly covered her face and eyes. She rocked back and forth hugging her knees and mumbling to herself. Her arms and shoulders were covered with scratches that the officer explained were from the rose and hyrdrangea bushes that she was found in.

Will kneeled down and spoke to Emma calmly with the same soft tone that he used for his younger patients when they were frightened of doctors. "Em," he said. "It's Will."

Emma at first darted up like a frightened animal, then she seemed to relax upon seeing her husband but only slightly. Her eyes filled with tears. "I thought that was our baby. He must have been switched, you see because our baby was laughing and talking! That one there isn't our baby. He's so quiet. Don't make me go back there, where it's dark and silent. It's so silent!" She lay her head on her knees and her voice was muffled through her sobs.

Will winced and held his fist to his mouth. The police officer nodded and spoke. "The people who found her said that she kept harrassing them about their baby insisting it was her's."

"We have an infant son," Will replied. "It can't be anyone else's. He was delivered on the way to hospital. He's deaf and it's been hard on her. It's a part of a delusion."

Will then leaned over to his wife. He reached out to her through the bars. She didn't relax or approach him. He wished that he could wrap his arms around his wife and tell her that everything would be alright. "Emma, David is our baby and he's worried about you, and so is Charlie, and so am I. We want you to come home." Emma shook her head and cried again saying once again, how everything was so silent.

The officer put his hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Sir, we may have to press charges on her. If you don't consent to her institutionalization, she may be charged with child endangerment, and creating a public disturbance."

Will shook his head. "She wouldn't intentionally endanger a child."

"Do you know that for sure, sir?" the officer asked rhetorically and Will had no answer for him after all look at what damage she caused not only to a strange child but to her own? He swallowed knowing what decision he had to make.

He called over to Emma. "Emma, you are going away somewhere. They are going to look after you for awhile. It won't be very long."

"Again?" she said.

Will nodded. "Again, but you can come home soon."

Emma began to shake and rocked herself back and forth again. She then let out a bloodcurdling scream. "NO! NO! NO!" She said to him crawling towards the bars and grabbing his hands and shoulders. "Please, Will, don't let them! It's too dark there, it's too cold! I didn't do anything wrong, I just wanted our baby back! Please, Will, please!"

"I'm sorry, Emma," Will said softly holding his wife's hand and kissing her face. He then waited for the guards to come and calm her down before he signed the papers consenting for her involuntary commitment.