178

Designed Intent

Chapter 37

Wednesday Night

After work, Bobby stopped at a bookstore and purchased several children's books. He enjoyed looking at all the selections and got caught up looking at the illustrations, reading the words. He found several that he remembered from his childhood, chose five and headed to the checkout.

"Your child is lucky to be getting such wonderful books," the lady said, taking his credit card.

Bobby's heart fell. He'd been fighting the thought of buying these for their child, their son, according to Gleason. Bobby smiled sadly, said nothing and waited for his card.

Afterward, he drove to Carmel Ridge.

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Mrs. Goren had just gotten back from dinner when he walked into her room.

"Hi, Mom," he said setting the bag of books on her bed and bending to give her a kiss on the cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, good. Where have you been? I was hoping to see you this weekend. Why didn't you come and see me? Where is Gleason? You didn't piss her off and lose her, did you?"

Bobby hated when she was coming off heavy sedation, she could be salty on a good day, but coming off those drugs, she was a brand new saltlick. "I brought you some children's books like you wanted," he offered, trying to change the subject. He retrieved the bag from her bed and handed it to her. "I got some good ones, I think."

Frances saw that the bag was from a store and not the library. "What the hell are these? You paid money for books? Bobby, why didn't you get books from the library? We always get our books from the library. Why didn't you? Is your library card no good anymore? If you use it, it will be good."

Bobby wiped his hands over his face and slouched down in his seat.

Frances continued, "Frank would have gotten them from the library. Frank is good with money, you're too extravagant." Frances pulled the books from the bag and examined them. "Well, at least you got good ones since we're stuck with them forever," she scowled.

Bobby could never please his mother, even as a child. Frank was the favorite son, he was named for her, and he favored her in appearance. Bobby always felt he was not wanted. He arrived six years after his brother, an after thought, a slip. Frank was not happy to have a baby brother taking attention away from him and was mean to Bobby. As he grew and it became clear that Bobby favored his father, things got worse. Bobby seemed to be the scapegoat when their mother got bad.

"I remember some of them from when I was little, Mom. You used to read them to me. And Frank. That Dr. Seuss one, about the fish, I always liked that one. And The Five Chinese Brothers, remember how we used to say the name with you?" Bobby would never give up trying to please her.

Frances looked at the book and he saw her smile. "Tiki-tiki-tim – something," she said, glancing at him.

"Yeah," he smiled back, sighed and relaxed.

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Sledge opened Eames's apartment door and she entered, he followed, shut it and locked it. "Do you want to go out or order in?" she asked, "Or, do you want me to cook? We should have talked about his before we left work."

Sledge hung up her coat and stood at the doorway to the kitchen, hands in his pockets. He didn't say anything and he didn't know how to say what he had to say. Eames turned when he didn't respond and said, "What's wrong?"

"Hon, I have to go to Toronto this weekend. I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon and getting home Monday night. I'm taking a couple vacation days."

Eames stood perfectly still. She knew what this was about. "Ok."

Sledge knew he had hurt her. But, he reasoned, Alex knew about Linda, they had talked about his arrangement with her; she understood, didn't she? He did not see understanding in Alex's face, he saw sadness and hurt.

"Ok," she said again, "you should get going then. Uh, have a, have a nice time. Call me when you get back, ok?" She couldn't hide the quiver in her voice.

"Hon, don't be upset. You know about this, right?" He stepped to her and took her in his arms. She returned his hug and he kissed the top of her head. "Alex, we talked about this. You said you understood."

She nodded against his chest. He stepped away from her, holding her at arm's length, "I love you, Alex. I love you."

"Then don't go."

"Alex, Hon –,"

"If you love me, don't go to Toronto," she stepped back and looked up at him.

"Alex –."

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Bobby went straight home after visiting his mother. He was hungry and out of food as he had been eating better this week, and eating more. So, he had a bowl of cereal for dinner and then made two slices of toast with butter and orange marmalade. Then, he ate applesauce from the jar. Then he had another bowl of cereal, finishing the box. Man, am I hungry, he thought.

He watched the clock and was eager to speak with Gleason. He missed her. He loved her.

Finally, his phone rang, "Hi, Sweetheart."

"Hi," she breathed. He heard her breathing hard and fast.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes. I was rushing to get in to call you. How was your day, Love?" Her voice sounded whispery and breathy.

"Are you sure you are ok?"

Gleason's eyes slammed shut and she had to wait a second before answering – the pain in her chest was suddenly sharper, heavier.

"Gleason? Honey, answer me. Glea –?"

"I'm, oh, I'm ok. Just give me a minute." Gleason set the hand holding the phone in her lap as she concentrated on catching her breath. She was getting concerned about this – it was happening more frequently and intensely.

Bobby was on his feet, "Gleason!" he shouted into the phone.

She heard him and said, "I'm here, I'm here. Calm down, Bobby," she dragged in a breath and continued, "calm down. I'm all right."

He didn't believe her for one minute. "Jesus, Gleason, I worry about you. I'm going with you to your appointment with Dr. Creighton Friday. I'm taking a few hours personal time." He listened to her breathing slow and asked, "Are you ok now?"

"Yes, Love, I'm better. I am sure this is nothing. Dr. Creighton will probably adjust my medication or change it again. Don't worry. It's fixable. Now, tell me about your day. How was your visit with your mum?"

They spoke for nearly two hours, each having to plug in their phones.

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Thursday

Eames and Sledge had had a terrible argument the night before. She was getting sick and tired of having half of him. She thought she had reconciled to 'sharing' him with his ex-wife; apparently, she had not. They ended up shouting at each other, she threw something and he left with the door slamming behind him. Goddamn him anyway.

Alex sat and forced herself to concentrate on the paperwork. She didn't even notice when Sledge came from the elevators; Bobby was right behind him.

"Morning," Bobby said, hanging up his coat.

"Yeah."

He noticed that she didn't even glance up, "You want some coffee?"

"I have tea, thanks."

Bobby pulled out his seat and said, "Gleason's coming home tonight. And Carter wants me to meet him at his office to begin prepping for the Ban –,"

"Yeah, I know – the Bandelli trial. So this means you're going to be out this afternoon and then heading to the airport from Carver's and I'm going to be stuck here finishing up this goddamn counterfeit book case by myself. Jesus!" and with that she stood up, took her cup and headed for the coffee room.

Bobby's eyebrows shot up and his hands went palms open at his shoulders. Sheesh! he thought, what is with her?

Sledge walked over to Bobby and said, "She bite your ass, too?"

Bobby looked up and said, "She seems upset."

"Yeah, well, your partner can be a jealous bitch."

Bobby looked away and said, "Whatever it is, I don't want to know. Excuse me." He stood with his cup and headed to the coffee room.

Eames was inside, slamming things, making a fresh pot of coffee that she didn't even drink. Bobby stopped at the door and hesitated about going in. Then he turned and ran right into Sledge, "Oh, sorry. I, uh, I don't think the coffee is done yet." He half grinned and nodded back toward the door.

"Yeah, well, let's see if we can speed things up a bit." Sledge stepped around Bobby and entered the coffee room, shutting the door behind him. Bobby just shook his head and wandered back to his desk. He set down his cup and shuffled to the soda machines.

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Gleason had finished lunch and was heading for her last class. She was going to let them go early so she could get home and meet the cab she had arranged. It was easier, and less expensive, to take a cab to the airport and back. She didn't have to fight traffic, didn't have to pay the outrageous parking fees, didn't have to walk forever. It had been Bobby's idea and she was glad to agree with him on this.

Midway through her lecture on the formation of pronouns in Western polysyllabic languages – blink! – the lights went out, literally. The projector whined to silence as the mob of students uttered expressions of surprise.

"Would someone get the lights back there, please?" she asked into the darkness.

A shuffling indicated someone had moved toward the switch and then a voice shouted, "I think the power is out. Nothing happens when I turn the switch."

The group moaned and the disembodied voice apparently moved to the door at the top of the ramp and pushed it open. Sunlight streamed in, adding dim light to the gloomy interior.

Another voice called out, "Can we go?"

Gleason hesitated and then said, "Well, I was going to let you go early anyway. See you Tuesday. Enjoy the darkness. Prop that door open, would you?"

The students shuffled and headed toward the doors. Gleason walked to her right and propped open the outside door at the bottom of the ramp. Using that light, she shut off the projector and stowed the computer, repacked her bag, shut the lower door and headed up the ramp. She saw Malcolm heading her way as she exited and shut the door.

"I was hoping to catch you."

"The lights went out so I let everyone go."

Without thinking, he put his arm around her waist and she pulled away, "I'm sorry, sorry. Apparently, the power is off in the whole Chicago area – a blackout; everything is shut down."

"Everything? What happened? Is it on the news?"

"Willow and I were talking whilst she was on her way in and she heard it on the car radio. She was stuck at a traffic light that had gone out."

"These things never last long, do they?"

"That one in New York a few years ago lasted several days."

Gleason stopped and said, "Well, I guess I'll go home, then."

"And do what?"

She looked up at him and read his mind, "Get ready to go home to Bobby," she said steadily.

"I see; you're going home a day early, eh? What about your class tomorrow? "

"Don't worry, they have an assignment. I shall bring you a doctor's note so you and Dr. Marlowe won't think I'm skipping out."

Malcolm was suddenly serious, "You're seeing someone about the pain in your chest?"

"Aye. Bobby is concerned; and I am as well. I am certain it is just a medication change or such."

"I worry about you, too, Gleason. You know how I feel about you," he said softly, walking so close that his hip brushed hers. He desperately wanted to put his arm around her; he felt himself begin to swell in his trousers.

"You never stop, do you? Malcolm, I have been very clear about this. I don't want . . ."

"You are breaking my heart, Love, you know that, don't you?"

"For God's sake, stop it. Just stop." They walked silently, Malcolm wanting her, Gleason thinking of Bobby. "Wait!" she exclaimed, stopping dead. It had just occurred to her that the blackout would shut down the airports. "I was supposed to go home this evening. I need to call Bobby."

With that, she headed to a bench and dug for her phone. Malcolm stood and watched with his hands in his pockets, looking a lot like Bobby in that pose. "I'll call you later to see if you're ok. All right?" he asked her. "Maybe I can come over. Just to talk, just to talk. I swear."

She glanced up at him and nodded, waiting for Bobby to answer.

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"Call the airline and see what the status of your flight is. . . . That's the first thing to do. If it's canceled, then rebook for the first flight possible. . . . I'll reschedule with Dr. Creighton if we need to. . . . I know, I know. . . . Call the airline and then call me, ok? . . . I love you, Sweetheart. . . . Call when you know something. . . . Ok, bye."

Goddamn it! He slapped his phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket. Sonofabitch!

"Everything all right, Detective?" Carver asked as Bobby returned from the Assistant District Attorney's outer office.

"Where were we?"

Bobby wiped his hand over his face and tried to refocus on the testimony he was to deliver at the Bandelli mob trial the following week.