Chapter 21

Frank looked up at him. "How did you know? The nurse didn't come to help, she didn't answer the bell. He was going to kill Anthony, and me - and if you hadn't come in…"

Mort let a slow breath out. He hadn't noticed Frank was gone. His being there was coincidental. Seth had come to check Jessica's vitals, and Mort had used that time to come up to see how Anthony was doing. He noticed that his entry onto the floor wasn't challenged, and calling for backup he saw that both the nurse and the officer who were to be on duty were slumped behind the desk, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to tell him they both were dead. He had turned at the sound of the bed pan crashing across the floor and was only a few seconds behind the man who had threatened Frank.

"If you're up to it, Mrs. F should be awake by now… Andy will stay with Anthony, he's safe now," Mort said gently. "And, uh, I wouldn't let your aunt hear what you said to that guy, or repeat anything like that, that you overhear from Willie Mac, Kapeash?" He felt Frank give a nod, and helped him up to his feet. Frank was still a bit wobbly as Mort guided him out of the room and down to the elevators. To Frank's relief, there were enough State Police officers moving around to secure the area.

Frank was relieved to see that Jessica was awake when he was brought down to her room. He hesitated at the door though, the strong feeling that he was guilty of hurting her overshadowing his heart again. She couldn't lift her head to look at him, or turn it. The fall had not affected her hearing though.

"Frank?" she said softly. Mort nudged Frank into the room, giving him a curious look. Frank went in, and then over to the bedside where he flung himself onto her and began to sob, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" over and over again. Mort had no idea why Frank was saying that, but the look that Taylor shared with Willie and Tipper spoke volumes. Jessica let him cry for a while. She knew there was more of what was going on, and it would come out in time. Finally when he was reduced to sniffs and a few hiccups, she said softly, "Dear, it wasn't your fault."

"But you fell on one of my pencils. I wasn't careful and you got hurt."

Jessica couldn't shake her head. But even Frank couldn't mistake the chuckle in her voice. "Oh, Frank. It wasn't your pencil. Taylor told me what Sydney found, and yes, a few of yours did fall, but I found those right away. That pencil was the one I use at my telephone. It doesn't have a proper string, and its always falling down. It had to have fallen when I went to get you and the neighbor's tree was hit by lightning. If you weren't there, who knows how long I would have laid there?"

"A long while until Seth came for some of that apple pie," said Mort, grinning.

Frank gave a hiccup then said, "So you're awake, and you can come home now…" The adults exchanged looks and after a silence Mort coughed. He wasn't sure what they had planned at this point.

It was Tipper who said to him gently, "Mrs. Fletcher has to stay in the hospital for a few days. She hit her head pretty hard, and her back isn't as strong as it used to be."

"Okay, well, there is an extra bed here - just have to figure out where the showers are…unless you plan to send me to Grandma and Grandpa Mayberry's house?" he said with some trepidation. He saw Jessica look at Mort. Maybe he would be safer there, thought Frank, but then again, the Mayberrys wouldn't know who to watch out for, and where they lived the whole neighborhood was full of strangers. He wasn't about to worry Jessica with the fact that he was almost killed a few floors above.

"One night the hospital would overlook, especially last night. But until Mrs. F is discharged from the hospital by Dr. Hazlitt, you're best off staying with Ms. Andrews and Willie Mac," said Mort, a bit pleased with himself for discovering a solution. Jessica saw Taylor's surprise, the look that was exchanged between them, and then back to Mort, who knew something but wasn't saying.

Seth chimed in. "That's an excellent idea. Would give these two a chance to discover what parenting is all about," he said with a wink. "For now, Jessica, you have some tests that your insurance company has authorized me to have preformed on you, one of which is having your head examined, and we are going to have some room changes shortly. I suggest that if Dr. Henderson wouldn't mind taking Ms. Andrews, Mr. Mac, and Mr. Fletcher home to get things in order, they could return later for afternoon visiting hours?"

"All right," she agreed. Frank gave her a careful hug and then walked over to where Taylor was and took her hand in his. It wasn't that he was being clingy, he just needed support just then.

They were nearly at the door when Jessica said, "Oh, Tipper, Bert Davis asked me last night for you to check Lucky for a quill behind a back tooth - and he mentioned that they needed someone to take care of Lucky just for the summer. Bert said they had to go away unexpectedly. "

"Coinnigh cuimhne orm, le do thoil," said Willie softly, crossing himself.

"When did you speak to Bert?" asked Mort, curious. He gave Seth a look, then looked at Tipper, who was quite pale.

"Last night," said Jessica, looking at them with some confusion.

"I'll check Lucky for the quill Mrs. Fletcher. Would you mind if Frank took Lucky in?" Tipper asked, trying to steady her voice. "She really loves kids, and I don't know of any other families around here who don't already have a dog. I know it's a lot to ask…"

Jessica saw Frank's hopeful face. "All right," she said softly. Seth took that as a cue to shoo them all out of the room. He would tell Jessica about the Davis family later

Tipper carefully felt inside of Lucky's mouth for the second time. She didn't find anything the first time when she picked her up at the kennel, but knowing that Lucky had just been dequilled a few days before by the her partner, and that Jess would have had no way of knowing about the dequilling, she wanted to be sure. The kennel owner had said Lucky hadn't been eating right. For a dog that relished eating the back screen door and had gnawed three of the steps from the Davis's back porch and not had any problems eating afterwards, being off was a clue something was wrong.

An x ray of the jaw showed the half inch quill stuck into the inside of the upper back molars. Lucky gave a sigh of relief once the quill was removed. With a quick swab of antiseptic Tipper cauterized the wound and then settled Lucky into her cage until she was able to travel to Taylor's house.

THUMP CLUMP THUMP CLUMP THUMP CLUMP THUMP echoed Frank's feet as he bounded up the steps from Taylor's basement bringing the extra sheet set upstairs. Willie's answer to Frank's boundless energy was to wear him out. Taylor had laughed. It had been a while since Willie was a young boy, but during her time at her job she had seen many a young set of parents exhausted long before their children were. Frank had made six trips to the basement and wasn't even winded. Willie was coming in from outside and he wore a bemused grin on his face. He had figured out something else that Frank could do. It didn't take more than a moment for Taylor to notice the noise in her house had stopped. Curious, she finished tucking the blanket in on the futon and went downstairs to find Willie sipping a cup of tea. His hands were shaking visibly.

"Willie? Where is Frank, and what's wrong?" she asked, taking the cup from him to take a sip then handing it back to him.

"Oh, outside cutting the grass. I checked it and it's dry enough," he said, tilting his head to the back yard. "An' when he's done with that, Jessica's yard needs doing as well, but she's got rose bushes in the back, so it's only the front. I calculated that should keep him busy for at least two hours."

"But I don't hear the mower…" Taylor said, going to where the back porch doors were. She saw Frank gamely pushing the reel mower. "Oh, Willie! You didn't!" she said, a bit shocked. "He's just a young boy! Why isn't he using the electric mower? The power is back on," she said, putting her hand to her mouth as she went back to him.

Willie had no apology in his eyes. "Aye, it is. An' he didna ask to use that one when he heard no doubt it was the one like his Da used when he stayed with his Aunt Jessica. He reasoned if his Da could do it, so could he."

She placed her hand on his chest and felt his heart racing, his body trembling beneath her hand. "And what has you shaking like a leaf?"

Willie put his cup down on the counter behind him and laid his hand over hers, taking it.

"Only that it took an observant eleven year old to say that as I had slept with you last night, that it would be in my best interest to marry you afore others found out. I realized when I woke up with you in my arms this morning that, well, it was the way that I wanted to wake up every morning. I ha no name I can give to you, Taylor. My gram gave me my da's name, as do those who take in foundlings, but I don't know if I ha any right to give that name to anyone else. Even my mother's people dinna come forward to lay claim to me. An' if that's not from havin' a child of shame, I don't know what else is."

"Well, I can guess. Willie, when you were born, it was at an age where a woman could not just raise a child on her own. You said your father died before you were born. What choice would she have to give you a normal child hood except to leave you with your grandmother? How hard it must have been to leave you behind, to know that if she came back, she would just have to leave you again. I have known you only a short time, Willie Mac, and I know you to be an honorable man. There is no shame in the life that I have seen of yours, nor of your parentage."

Willie let out a slow breath, then his hands dropped and slipped about her thin waist, pulling her closer to him. "You are a most remarkable Anam Cara," he said giving her a long hug.

Frank pushed and pulled the mower across Taylor's back yard. When Willie had first asked about cutting grass, he was going to remind Willie that as an apartment dweller, he had no experience to do such a task, but Willie had shown him it wasn't that hard at all, and with someone so full of boundless energy it wouldn't take long at all. He snuck a glance back at the house. The casual hint about Willie marrying Taylor - he wasn't playing matchmaker, but he knew that married couples kissed far less than unmarried ones. Not that he had seen Willie kiss Taylor much, not like those sloppy face-sucking ones in Hollywood. But if he was distracted about that, then, well, there would be fewer chores that he would be thinking up for Frank to do.

As Frank pushed the mower his mind began to go over what he would write for his paper that he had to present to the principal in a week's time. He stopped in the middle of a push and gave a giggle. Of course he would tell the truth. No one would believe it, but it would be worth it to see their expressions. He resumed pushing the mower. Not all of his stay here was with the same feeling. He missed his parents, and as they were traveling a lot now, they didn't have time to call every day. He knew that would happen. His dad had said in the last call that his mom was resting a lot and Grady had let slip that she had been to the Doctor's the day before for some tests. He had asked his dad if it was the type that failing them was a good thing, or passing them would be better. Grady laughed and said it was the type that was more of a true or false test. That had confused Frank. He was going to ask Willie about it, but decided until he knew more, he would wait.

The back yard wasn't that hard to cut at all and the front yards, with him pretending to be driving a race car back and forth, went faster. Willie had told him when he was done he had to clean off the mower and put it away before coming in. Frank entered the kitchen after kicking off his shoes and leaving them by the door. He closed the screen door softly and locked it before coming around the corner to find Willie and Taylor still in an embrace with Willie's lips gently touching Taylor's. It was as if Willie had never seen a Hollywood movie kiss, and perhaps, Frank mused, that was a good thing. Frank cleared his throat. At least they didn't jerk apart like there was anything to be guilty about.

Willie looked at him. "Done already?" he asked, curious. He saw Frank nod. "Very well. Off to be a fish and scrub the green from your face. An' when you're done with it, take your dirty clothes down to the laundry basket downstairs. An' don't use all the hot water!"

Frank opened a bottle of shampoo. It held a purple liquid inside and it reminded him of his mother. For the longest time he stood there, smelling it before deciding if he was going to use it for his shower. Jessica had impressed on him the need to restrict how much water he used. The first time he had forgotten and had spent time with the shampoo in his hair making it go in all different directions. He realized too late that when all the hot water was used up, it became very cold water and he had to finish washing the soap off while he shivered. Ducking in to get wet, turning it off, then washing with the water turned off gave him more time in the shower to play. Sometimes he drew on the steamy walls, but he was very careful to use a soapy cloth to wash the walls down after as he knew the oils from his hands would make the image visible for the next person. A quick rinse followed, then he wrapped up in a fluffy towel. Belatedly he realized he hadn't brought his cloths into the shower with him. He grabbed Taylor's fluffy robe from the hook and put it on then ducked into his room. Pulling on his white cotton socks, bvds and his jeans, Frank bundled up his dirty cloths and went down the steps through the kitchen and down into the basement.

THUMP CLUMP THUMP CLUMP THUMP CLUMP RATTLE CLUMP echoed in the small basement room. Frank paused. He had been thumping up and down the steps all morning and hadn't heard the rattle before. He backed up a step and thumped it again, and heard the soft rattle again. It wasn't like a rattlesnake rattle, it was different. He clumped down the rest of the steps and put his cloths in the laundry basket as Willie had said, then went to the underside of the steps to see what could possibly be making that noise. Almost at once he bumped his head. He realized it was dark under the steps, and the spider that he saw crawling around was huge. He didn't want to mess with any other creature that could be in there. Backing up, he looked around and spied a flashlight on the small work bench. The batteries were dim in the flashlight as he flicked it on then moved back under the steps. He saw the glint of metal and, curious, he gave it a tug.

"WHOA…" he said as the long sword slid from the shelf and fell with a clatter onto the stone floor.

In the kitchen Willie heard the clatter and knew exactly what it was. "Damnú air," he muttered, sighing as he left Taylor's embrace and hurried down the steps.

Frank had dragged the sword in the scabbard to where the washing machine was and with both hands tried to lift it up onto it. The scabbard fell to the stone floor as the blade wobbled in his hands and he almost dropped the heavy sword as the oil that coated it made it slick. He didn't hear or see Willie come down the steps until his hand caught the sword as it slipped out of Frank's hands and tumbled towards his leg.

"An' what do ye think ye are doing? How would I be explaining to Jessica ye lost ye leg to foolishness? Don't let me catch you touching that again, it will slice ye to the bone."

"I heard a rattle when I was coming down the steps and when I looked it was tucked up under in a cubby hole - I was just curious. What do the markings say on it?"

He saw the struggle on Willie's face as he slid it back into the sheath and wrapped it in the oil cloth that had fallen away. Willie went under the steps and put it up into the next cubby hole slot higher than what Frank could reach on his own. When he stepped out he looked at Frank and said softly, "That I am a coward."

It wasn't what Frank expected. Willie pointed up the steps and Frank scurried up them, not quite sure what to say.

Nothing more was said about the sword as he rode in the back seat of the taxi with them to the hospital. Jessica was sitting up in bed looking tired from everything she had been through but she still smiled as Frank came in with a small vase holding cut flowers and a balloon that was tied to one of the stems. He didn't need to be asked twice to get up beside her and nestle next to her shoulder. He wrinkled his nose. "You smell like an old person… but it's not how you smelled before. Is it the hospital soap that makes you stinky?" The words were out of his mouth before he realized it. He ducked his head down as he flushed. "Sorry, that didn't come out right."

Jessica instructed him to open the tray on her table and to take a sniff of the soap at hand. He did, and wrinkling his nose again. "When you get home, the first order of the day will be to take a proper bath with some of that purple stuff you have… I like that smell."

She turned her head and sniffed him. "Oh, so that's why you smell of lavender…" she said smiling. "With any luck, I should be out of here in the next day or so. Seth is keeping me here as a precaution. Now, what is this I hear about you and a flying bed pan?"

In a rush Frank told Jessica about his trip upstairs. He had reasoned that in all the hospital, if Anthony was there, he would be upstairs, as were most of the people who were in bad accidents. It was a simple process of elimination, and while he didn't think that he was the proper sort of man for Taylor, Jessica still liked him and it felt like a right thing to do. The bed pan just happened to be there. But he was greatly relived that it had not been used.

It was later that night, after the visit back to the hospital, lessons, dinner and tucking Frank into bed that Taylor found Willie outside, sitting on the step of the back porch slowly packing tobacco into a clay pipe's bowl with his thumb. Mud season was over. Spring crept over the cove, yet the air still had a chill in it as he struck a wooden match and lit the pipe. Taylor hadn't even known that Willie smoked - in all the days they had been together, she hadn't ever seen any trace of it, nor smelt the smoke on his jacket. He drew on it, and coughed, then drew on it again and closed his eyes as the smoke filled his lungs. He coughed again. He saw her regarding him curiously.

"Woman, allow me one vice to get through days like this, an' tomorrow we will have the boy, an' his dog ... Some men drink away their problems, some men chase beautiful women, others smoke pipe. Ye know I canna abide by the grain, an' I'm na a ladies' man…" he shrugged ruefully.

"Or is it that I am not beautiful enough to be chased?" she asked, withdrawing from him.

"Muirnín, you are far more beautiful than any man deserves. Least of all, I." He took another draw from his pipe and coughed again.

"It's not yours - you've no experience with it. You're not a man of the pipe, Willie, and kissing men who smoke is the hardest thing a woman should ever have to do," she said, regarding him in the darkness. She saw the soft glow of the tobacco in the pipe as it smoldered.

"It's one of my Gram's. She packed it for me an' said that there would be days when I would need it. I canna stop shaking like a wee páistí. I'm terrified of all that has been happening, and what will happen, an' most of all, of losing you to Anthony. He loves you above all else, and I see in your heart you do still love him. I canna compete with the likes of him. I canna offer you what he can give you without questioning if it is right of me to even try. It wouldn't be fair for you to have a man who dresses in homespun an' is too much of a cladhaire to work in the profession he was trained to do all of his life."

"Your grandmother is a wise woman, but I don't think she means for you to smoke the pipe," Taylor said, gently taking it from his hands before he could take another draw from it. He looked at her, curious. She held it in her hands and took a breath of the smoke that curled between them. "Close your eyes and take a breath - what do you smell?"

'The tobacco burning, a new mowed lawn …" he said softly.

"What do you see?" she asked. She saw a tear come down his cheek from the corner of his eye.

"Gram sitting at the fire having her evening smoke. The cottage, the herbs hanging to dry. When it was safe in the world to go to bed. " He opened his eyes up.

"She gave you the pipe so that you would always be able to hold that memory in your heart, to comfort you when times were very bad," she said, handing him back the pipe. "As for Anthony, he wanted marriage and babies, and I could never see him as father material. It was one of the reasons why I told him it was something that I would have to think about, and a reason why I didn't go back to California to be with him. You, on the other hand, will make a wonderful father." Taylor waited until he had made the decision to put the pipe out, gently tapping the clay bowl with his finger so that the tobacco fell against the stone walkway before snuffing it out with his shoe. He pocketed the pipe and regarded her.

"I have nothing to offer you, Muirnín."

"What makes you feel I would want for anything? Until you came, I was here waiting to die. There were days I didn't get out of bed, nor eat, or speak to a soul beyond Sydney, who had at that time a better life than I did. You came and tore away that veil of darkness that covered me. I haven't felt this alive in years. What magic have you poured into my life?" she asked simply.

In his room Frank listened to them conversing. He had gone to bed and closed his eyes for a bit, but in truth he was waiting for them to finish up their evening, and then he had some plans of his own. It had occurred to him that he did recognize what the markings

on the sword were, and that he did have a way to find out what it said.

He had mentioned to Taylor that the flashlight in the basement needed new batteries and while they were at the hospital they stopped off at the gift shop and bought Jessica flowers. They learned from Seth that she had been moved to CCU where it would be easier to keep her safe along with Anthony. Willie had waited while Taylor had gone in to see him. Seth had said his heart was strong, and while he had some broken ribs and a punctured lung he would recover. Frank had seen that most of the one side of Anthony's face had heavy bandages on it. The doctor who had taken care of him mentioned reconstructive surgery, in time. Contact with the road had buffed off a lot of the skin. Jessica was in good spirits. Seth had chosen to keep her there as a precautionary measure and, as he said, give her a rest to replenish the energy that she expended caring for Frank. She was still sitting up in bed when they had left, though even Frank could see she was very tired.

Not everything was going along with Frank's plan though. When Willie came up to the room he spent a long time tossing and turning, and for a bit after Frank thought he heard a catch of a sob. Curious, he looked over and saw that Willie was asleep, curled up in a tight ball, the covers tossed aside. Frank got out of bed and pulled the covers over Willie then waited a moment before he gathered the paper and crayon that he had placed on the edge of the dresser. He looked into Taylor's room and saw the lump of covers and Sydney, who looked at him then laid her head back down. Softly he went down the steps to the first floor, and then into the basement. He had already been down to the basement earlier to replace the batteries, and had placed a chair under the steps so that he could have access to the sword. Willie hadn't forbidden him to touch it - he had said not to let him catch him touching it, and there was a distinction in Frank's mind regarding that. Willie had commented that Frank had the weight of an angel and that it would be years before his muscles caught up to his frame.

Frank knew the sword was heavy. He was very careful so that it didn't fall this time. Gently he eased it to the floor and opened the oil cloth. It made a soft scraping sound as he slid it from the scabbard. Deftly he laid the paper over the sword and in the flashlight glow made a quick rubbing of the blade on each side. He then took a separate paper and copied down all of the markings that were on the blade and scabbard and folded it tightly into his robe pocket. Satisfied that he could make out the markings on the rubbings, he slid the sword back into the scabbard and refolded the oil cloth the way that Willie had it. It took two tries to get it back into the cubby hole. Sighing with relief he lifted the chair back to where it had been and folded the rubbings papers, and discovered that his hands were a bit oily. Going up the steps in the dark he was surprised to see Sydney waiting at the top of the steps for him wagging her tail. He pulled the door closed behind him, careful not to get any of the oil on the door knob, and went to the sink to wash them. He wasn't quite sure what would take it off. He used a paper towel to turn on the water, picked up the dish washing soap and gave his hands a good squirt. It didn't seem like it was doing much and Frank got the feeling that the oil used on the blade and the handle wasn't food quality oil. He heard a footstep behind him and saw it was Taylor. She regarded him, and then opened up the cupboard doors pulled out a small bottle marked GUNK and squirted it on his hands. He gave it a good rub and the oil came off, washing down the drain. Frank sighed in relief.

"Thank you," he said softly. He looked at her. "How did you know?"

She shrugged. "Sydney let me know that you had gone down into the cellar, and except for your laundry and canned food, the only other thing down there was Willie's sword. Didn't he tell you not to touch it?"

Frank squirmed. "Well, his exact words were not to let him catch me touching it … Are you going to tell him?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Taylor sighed. "No. But you will tomorrow morning. The reason why is the oils from people's hands have acid in them, and it can destroy the blade. Willie will have to re-oil the blade before it's re-wrapped and put up for storage."

"I didn't know that … It's just I have seen the markings before, and Willie says that they say he is a coward. I don't believe that he is, though. I want to understand, Taylor. I really do."

"Did you ask him to show you the sword at a later time?" she asked softly

Frank shook his head. "He was ticked off enough that I had it out of the scabbard in the first place to look at it. When I left the room a bit ago, it sounded like he was crying in his sleep. Dad says that grown men do cry, and they aren't being a baby about anything. He said he cried when I was born because Mum was squeezing his hand so hard, and because I was, as he said, very beautiful," he said, making a face at the thought. In a way he was trying to sidetrack the issue and divert attention to what he had been doing.

"So, what was worth you getting grounded by taking the sword off of the shelf?" she said, folding her arms over her chest. Grounding him was going to be difficult. Frank didn't realize it, as he really didn't have any privileges to be taken away and he had been through so much already.

"I just did crayon rubbings of the markings on the sword blade, and I wrapped it up the same way that Willie Mac had. It didn't fall this time and I only touched the handle, not the blade. Well, the paper touched the blade, but would that hurt it?" he asked, curious.

He saw Taylor sigh. "I don't know. Please understand, Frank, that sword isn't a toy. It's very old, and the blade is sharp enough to remove a limb from your body. Think about how Willie would have felt if even after he put it on the shelf it had slipped and harmed you? And the other thing is … it's Willie's sword. Whatever the writings are, it's not for you to read unless he says you can. It's very personal. Can you understand that?"

"Sort of. I just don't understand what the big deal is, or what is going on."

Taylor sighed as she glanced at the clock. It was going on 11 pm and she knew the sun would be up in five hours.

"It's something that we will discuss tomorrow," she said, holding her hand out for the crayon rubbings. Frank handed over the folded papers. She turned him around to the direction of the steps and marched him upward. They were almost at the top of the steps when Frank heard a distinctive sob coming from the room he shared with Willie Mac. He stopped and looked at Taylor and knew she had heard it too. She sighed and inclined her head to her room "Tuck into my bed with Sydney. I'll see to things," she said softly. Frank nodded. She waited until he was in her bed with the covers up before she closed the door and then he heard his door closed and her soft voice comforting Willie. Sydney crawled up to Frank and wiggled next to him trying to lick his nose. He gave Sydney a pat, and then, exhausted, he fell asleep.

Dawn came. Frank woke and carefully opened the door to the room where his clothes were. He looked at the bed and saw Taylor sitting up, asleep and wrapped in her robe. Willie had his head on her lap and she had been rubbing his back to comfort him. Frank remembered a man who lived in the apartment near them. He had been in one of the wars, and his dad had used the term 'shell shock' to explain the man's behavior, much like what Willie had been going through. He snagged his back pack and his clothing and went into the bathroom to take a shower and change for the day. He unzipped his back pack and slipped the small folded paper that was in his pocket into one of the zipper pockets and closed it. If he was going to be grounded, it may as well be for really doing something.