The Door Into Summer
Chapter 15By nine-thirty the next morning everyone was in place. Roscoe was behind the switchboard; Suzanne sat in the backseat of Jeff's convertible with the biggest bouquet of flowers Jeff had ever seen, and Kookie rode shotgun. And the P.I. himself was behind the wheel of the car. "Everyone set?" Jeff asked before pulling onto Sunset Boulevard.
"No," Kookie answered. "I need to get something from Dino's." Kookie had noticed the look in Jeff's eyes; it was that of a man exhausted. Kookie hopped out of the car before Jeff could berate him and ran back quickly to Andre's kitchen. When he returned he carried two large black coffee's. He offered one to Suzanne and she shook her head 'no;' he handed it to Jeff instead and kept the second for himself.
"Thanks, Kookie," Jeff remarked, surprised at how thoughtful the young man was, and Kookie nodded in acknowledgment.
"Now are we ready?" Spencer tried again, but there was a teasing tone in his voice that hadn't been there before.
"Lead on, Macduff," the carhop answered.
"Really, Kookie, Shakespeare?" Suzanne asked from the back seat. She'd set the flowers on the floor next to her, so they wouldn't get blown to bits by the wind in the convertible.
"Actually, the line in Shakespeare is Lay on, Macduff," Kookie grinned. "Never said I wasn't educated."
Jeff didn't say much; he just drank coffee and drove. When the coffee was done he turned his head slightly to the aspiring P.I. "I gave this some thought last night. Actually, it was this morning, but that's irrelevant. Let's try a different tactic. Let's have Roscoe call the pipefitting companies in Orange County and see if we can find Waverly's new employer. I think it might be easier to pick him up at work and have him drive us back to the motel. We should be able to find Rachel there."
"Great idea, dad. Anything that gets me out from under her drooling over me is welcome."
"What's wrong, Kookie, don't you want a beautiful girl drooling over you?" Suzanne asked. "I thought that was every man's fantasy."
"It is, Suzanne, but not a beautiful girl that's sixteen-years-old," Jeff was quick to answer as he made the turn onto Route 12. "What do you think, Kookie? We can go after Don in a couple of days, as soon as Roscoe finds him."
"I think it's a good idea, dad. You can call Roscoe when we get to the hospital and tell him the plan."
"I hope Stuart's awake. He must be by now, don't you think, Jeff?"
"I hope so."
"Did you call the hospital this morning?" Suzanne questioned.
Jeff had been praying no one would ask that question . . . he didn't get any better news at six this morning than he did at eleven last night. "Ah, yes, actually I did. He was still the way I left him yesterday."
"Surely he'll be awake by the time we get there," Suzanne offered optimistically.
"Probably," Kookie added, and Jeff hoped fervently that Kookie was right. He was as worried about Stuart's unconscious state as the doctors. And he couldn't keep this semi-cheerful demeanor up much longer. Bless Kookie's heart; he saw fit to change the subject. "Why don't I call Roscoe when we get to the hospital? I can explain what you want him to do, and that way you and Suzanne can go right upstairs and see Stu. I'll be there when I'm finished with the call."
Jeff nodded, having noticed how responsible Kookie could be when he wanted to. Jeff and Stu had discussed the fact Gerald Lloyd Kookson III was growing up. He seemed more intent than ever to learn everything he could from the two men he called 'dad.'
"Jeff, it's the turn for the hospital," Suzanne told him quietly. His mind had been a thousand miles away, and he almost didn't make the quick right into the parking lot. That was twice already today that he hadn't been paying enough attention to what he was doing. He found a parking space, put the car in park, and sighed. Would he find his partner awake, alert and cranky, or would he still be in a land that none of them could reach? He got out of the car slowly, then held the seat forward and the door open for poor Suzanne, who was trying to get out of the car and hang on to the flowers at the same time.
"Let me have those, Suzanne," he told the woman he had a not-so-secret crush on. She handed Jeff the flowers gratefully and got out of the car. Then he took her arm and escorted her into the hospital. They passed Kookie in the hall, on the payphone. No doubt talking to Roscoe. It was a silent trip up to the ICU floor. Once they got there Suzanne sat in the waiting room with the flowers and Jeff went to find Karen Sharpe. "Nurse Sharpe, do you remember me?" he asked when he'd located her.
"Of course, Mr. Spencer. You're here to see Mr. Bailey, I assume?"
"Yes, and I've brought a dear friend with me, Suzanne Fabry. Has he regained consciousness yet?"
Karen shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not. Dr. Doerner is with him now; I'll let the two of you in together if he says it's alright."
Doerner came out of Stu's room and the nurse went to talk to him. Jeff saw the doctor nod, and Karen waved Jeff forward. "Mr. Spencer. Mr. Bailey still hasn't woken up, but he's had several small instances of restlessness. I believe he's attempting to fight his way out of the unconsciousness. We'll be keeping a close eye on him, but for now you and your friend can go in together. Send for Nurse Sharpe if he changes any at all."
"I will, doctor. Thank you." Jeff strode quickly to the waiting room and offered Suzanne his arm again. "We can both go in."
She smiled and allowed him to help her up, then handed him the flowers. When Nurse Sharpe saw them she took the blooms to put in water and bring them to the room. Jeff and Suzanne crept into ICU 236, and Jeff could hear the substantial intake of breath from his companion. She never flinched, however, and was as cheery as she was every morning. "Bonjour, Stuart." Stu's eyes remained closed; there was no discernable movement in the bed.
Jeff reached over and laid his hand on Stu's arm. "Hey, Stu, it's Jeff. Suzanne, Kookie and I came to visit. Well, Kookie stopped to make a phone call to Roscoe before coming up. A workaround on the Ames case."
There was a slight movement in the position of Stu's head, and Jeff saw his mouth twitch at the corner. "Remember, you were going to pick up Rachel at Zuma Beach before you were hit. Gil thinks it was Daggett; I don't disagree with him."
Suzanne leaned over the bed and kissed Stu's cheek tenderly. "You've had a good, long nap now, Stuart. It's time for you to wake up. We all need you."
Still no movement from the man in the bed. Jeff sighed; he wondered if there could have been something more than just a concussion, and that was keeping his partner from waking. He heard a sound and turned towards the door and saw Kookie standing there, not wanting to intrude. Jeff motioned him in, and moved over so Kookie could talk to Stu. "Hey, dad. I was really worried when you didn't show; then I got angry that you'd stood me up with the little brat one more day, but by the time I got back to the office, I was scared. I kept thinking of all kinds of reasons why you didn't turn up at Zuma. But I never once thought the next time I saw you . . . you'd be like this. You gotta wake up, dad. We gotta catch Rachel, and find Daggett, and go buy a new T-bird."
"Kookie, I hadn't told him about the car," Jeff interrupted.
"Oops. If that doesn't wake him up, I don't know what will."
Nurse Sharpe brought the bouquet in and set it on the table next to Stu's bed. "Your friends brought you some lovely flowers, Mr. Bailey. I wish you could see them." She turned to Jeff. "Dr. Doerner would like to speak with you again."
Jeff followed the nurse out to the desk and found Dr. Doerner waiting for him. "Has there been any attempt to regain consciousness since you've been here, Mr. Spencer?"
"There was a small twitch of his mouth, but nothing more than that. What are you worried about, Doctor?"
"I didn't want to raise this possibility, but after giving it some thought and examining Mr. Bailey's records, I believe it's my duty as your brother's doctor to warn you." Doerner paused, as if gathering his courage to continue. "Quite frankly, I'm beginning to wonder if Mr. Bailey suffered an injury to the brain."
"How likely is that?" Jeff asked, fear rising in him. He did his best to ignore it.
"Not likely, I thought at first. But the longer he remains in this 'coma,' the greater the chance he may have . . . slipped away from us."
"For good?" There was panic in the question.
"I don't mean to worry you unnecessarily, Mr. Spencer. I just thought you'd want to know the possibilities." The doctor paused before continuing, "We're going to keep him in the ICU for at least another twenty-four hours. I think that's best, given the circumstances."
Jeff gulped. Not worry him unnecessarily? There was scarcely a chance of that. He'd already been trying to ignore the little voice inside spewing out all the things that could be wrong with Stu. Damn Daggett! Why hadn't they paid more attention to the warning he was out of prison and less to a bubble-headed sixteen-year-old girl?
He walked back into the room to find Suzanne sitting on one side of the bed talking to Stu in French, and Kookie standing on the other side, watching Stu intently. Jeff moved to Kookie's side of the bed and asked quietly, "Seen anything?"
Kookie shook his head almost imperceptibly and murmured, "I haven't even seen a twitch." They stood like that for a minute or two before the carhop asked, "What did the doctor have to say?"
"Not much. They're gonna keep him here in the ICU for another twenty-four hours." Jeff sighed, and then wished he hadn't. It would probably tip Kookie off to the fact there was more that the doctor had imparted, and it wasn't encouraging.
That's exactly what happened. Kookie looked at Jeff sideways and then asked, "How about some java, dad? Suzanne is having a private conversation, anyway, and I don't think she'll miss us."
Jeff nodded, and the two men went downstairs to the hospital cafeteria. Kookie sat at a table; Jeff went through the cafeteria line and got two coffees, then took them to where the young man sat. "Thanks, dad." They remained in companionable silence for several minutes, each man alone with his own thoughts. Kookie drained his cup faster than Jeff and finally asked, "What did the doctor say that's got you so uptight, dad? You're wound tighter than the spring on a new watch."
"Keep at it, Kookie. You'll make a good detective."
"That's not an answer, Jeff. Be straight with me."
"Alright," Jeff finished the last of his coffee before continuing. He knew he couldn't dodge Kookie when the carhop called him by his given name. "He told me the longer Stu remains in his 'coma,' the greater the chance he's . . . slipped away."
"As in permanently?" The look of horror on Kookie's face matched the tone of his voice, and Jeff cringed. "He can't mean that."
"Oh, he meant it. He said he was making me aware of the possibilities. So I'd know what I might be facing. I'm sorry, Kookie. I didn't mean to lay all this on you, but the man I'd normally share news like this with is the man lying in bed upstairs. I've seen him in bad shape before . . . remember when he got shot and needed a transfusion? It took them almost a week to find compatible blood. But he was awake, and aware, and cranky as all get out. In other words, Stu. I don't know how to deal with him like this. And I don't know how to pretend that everything's going to be alright. What if it isn't? What if I lose my best friend and partner and you lose the man best equipped to teach you the ins-and-outs of this business? What do we do then?"
When Kookie replied he sounded more like an adult than Jeff at this exact moment. "We don't have to think about that because it's not gonna happen. Stu Bailey is one of the toughest men in the business, when he needs to be. And he needs to be right now. He wouldn't go off and leave us, not without a hell of a fight. We have to believe he'll get through this, just like he has so many other things. He's in there somewhere, Jeff, fighting to come back, and he needs to know we believe in him. You can't give up; none of us can give up."
Jeff was surprised. Everything Kookie said was true. And the most amazing part was that Kookie had said it. He was more of an adult than any of them gave him credit for being. Was the cheery, hair-combing, fun-loving surfer just an act? Jeff looked him in the eyes, man to man. Kookie didn't blink. "Very astute, Mr. Kookson, and just what I needed to hear. Thanks, Kookie."
In an instant the adult vanished, and the not quite what he seemed to be took its place. "You're welcome, dad," was followed by a big grin. As if to emphasize the transformation back to the kid he let everyone think he was, he took out his comb and combed his hair.
Jeff smiled, truly smiled, as he told their P.I. in training, "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." Jeff set down his coffee cup. "Shall be go back and see Stu?"
"You got it, dad," and the two men hurried to the elevator.