It was Wednesday before Barbara could manage to rearrange her schedule enough to get away without raising any undue questions. She mentioned her plans to no one, saying only that she had some errands to run before Christmas, so she would be leaving the office at 11:00, and would be in again the next morning. During that entire time, she could feel the cold, hovering presence deep inside her. It was as if the ghost of Rachel Quest had invaded her very soul and was watching the world through her eyes.
By the time she made the drive and worked her way to her destination it was nearing 4:30. Praying she wasn't too late, she parked in a nearby municipal parking garage and made her way on foot to the Garrett J. Blackman Corporate Plaza. She paused for a moment outside the building and gazed around at the bustling streets and then upward toward the soaring heights of the skyscraper. A long way from the rural Maine countryside he grew up in, she thought to herself, and she felt that cold presence agree.
Turning resolutely back to her goal, she shoved open the door and entered the building. The lobby was huge, rising several stories before reaching the ceiling. Gleaming floors of polished granite reflected the light of the suspended chandeliers while the glass walls of the ground level made you feel as though you still were part of the bustling city street. Isolated islands of seating were scattered throughout the open area and at the very center was a large fountain. The water tumbled over the burnished silver sculpture leaving the impression of an ancient tree standing in the rain. Barbara stood staring at the fountain for several minutes, the peaceful sound of the falling water and the image of the tree filling her with a quiet sense of tranquility. Finally, she shook her head slightly and looked around, immediately spotting the reception desk situated back near a bank of elevators.
She approached the desk and smiled at the man behind it. "Hello. I wonder if you can help me. I'm trying to contact a young man who works here. His name is Jonathan Quest. Do you know how I can reach him?" Behind her, she heard footsteps approaching but took little notice.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"I'm afraid not," she replied regretfully. "My trip to the city was rather unexpected and I didn't have the chance to call ahead."
"I can see if Mr. Quest is still in the building, but it is rather late in the day. Your name please?"
"Mason. Barbara Mason."
As the man reached for the phone, a voice behind her questioned, "Dr. Mason? Of Rockport?"
Barbara turned in surprise and found herself facing a young black man she didn't know. He was dressed in business casual attire and carried a large briefcase. "Yes. I'm sorry, I don't believe -"
He laughed and held out his hand. "Blake Fearday. We've spoken once or twice on the telephone."
She smiled back, taking the hand he offered. "Of course, Blake, I remember. It's nice to finally meet you."
"And you. Did I hear that you're looking for Jon?"
"Yes, and I'm afraid he's not expecting me, so I don't even know if he's here."
Blake grinned as he reached out for a pen to sign the log sheet. "Oh, he's here. He's always here. Don't know how Jessica puts up with him. I'll take you up. Adam, give me a visitor's badge, will you?"
The guard looked hesitant. "Perhaps I should check. I mean, with everything else -"
"Don't be a jerk, Adam. Just give me the visitor's badge. I'll vouch for her."
Reluctantly, Adam handed Blake the requested item and gestured for Barbara to sign in. Then the two of them walked toward the elevators.
"He takes his job very seriously," Barbara observed as the elevator doors closed behind them. Blake shrugged.
"A little too seriously sometimes, if you ask me. But we've all got our jobs to do I guess. So, you're paying a surprise visit." Blake paused and then said hesitantly. "I hope there's nothing wrong with his dad again."
Barbara smiled. "No, nothing like that. Benton is fine. I was just in the area and hadn't had the chance to see either he or Jessica in some time, so I decided to take my chances and see if I could catch them."
"I'm sure they'll both be glad to see you," he replied as the elevator slid to a stop and the doors opened with a sigh. "Follow me." Blake led the way across a small reception-style room to a set of large glass doors. Pushing them open, they crossed into a large office complex filled with cubicles. Without pausing, he crossed to one of them and stuck his head in, but withdrew again immediately.
"Hey, Jon, you here?" Blake called loudly.
"Yeah," a disembodied voice replied. "What is it?"
"You've got company."
"What kind of 'company'," the familiar voice called back suspiciously, still staying mysteriously invisible. "The last time you told me I had company, I spent a week trying to convince everyone the 'visitor' wasn't my idea."
Barbara raised an eyebrow at Blake who grinned back devilishly. "Yeah, but it sure was a lot of fun."
"For you, maybe, but if Jess ever finds out -"
"Uh, I'm not sure that's a discussion you want to pursue right now," Blake broke in hastily. "You really do have a visitor, and she's not one of my making."
Jonny's head suddenly popped out of the door of a cubicle about halfway down the long hallway. "Who - Dr. Mason?!?" The instant he saw her, his suspicious scowl disappeared and he broke into that familiar, lopsided grin. Trotting up the hallway, he greeted her enthusiastically, enveloping her in a warm, exuberant hug. "Man, it's great to see you! What are you doing here?"
Barbara laughed breathlessly, the warmth of his greeting sending a contented flush through her and driving that lingering chill further back into the recesses of her soul. "I'm fine," she replied, returning his hug. "I was in the area and I thought I'd stop and say hello. I missed you the last time you were home."
"The last two times I was home," he corrected her with a grin. "And how's my thoroughly clueless father these days?"
She could feel herself blush, but laughed and responded in the same tone, "Still clueless, as always." That caused both of them to laugh. "No really, he's fine. As I said, I just stopped by to see you and Jessica."
"Well, I'm glad you did."
"Barbara!"
The two of them turned and smiled as Stan Knight came striding up to them. "It's wonderful to see you again. No problems, I hope?"
"No, not at all. This call is purely social."
"Glad to hear it . . . in more ways than one." He turned a critical eye on Jonny. "I can use you as an excuse to get this young man out of here at a decent hour for a change. Pack it in and go home, Jon."
A look of concern suddenly flitted across his face. "Oh, but I -"
"Go . . . home," Stan said sternly. "It will all be here tomorrow."
Jonny sighed. "Yeah, I know. That's the problem." At Stan's scowl, Jonny held up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay. I'm going. But just so you know, I have to be back here by 8:00 tonight. They're running the first beta test on the new screening software, and I promised I'd be here in case they have a problem."
Stan didn't look happy, but nodded reluctantly. "All right, if you have to come back, then you have to. But you're to leave now, and if you can't get the thing up and running by midnight, you're to pack it in and call it a night. Clear?"
Jonny straightened sharply and snapped off a salute. "Yes, SIR!"
"Get out of here," Stan grumbled at him good-naturedly. He, Blake and Barbara watched as Jonny strode off jauntily toward his cubicle to shut down his computer and get his coat. As he disappeared they all heard a phone begin to ring and Stan immediately yelled, "Don't you dare answer that phone! That's why you have voice mail."
"Yes, mother," came Jonny's distant reply. Blake snickered, but the amused looked disappeared when Jonny added hesitantly, "It's Tokyo . . ."
"NO!" Stan thundered as Blake said, "I'll take it!" and ran for his desk.
"Is he always like this?" Barbara asked, bemused.
"No, not at all," Stan replied in disgust. "Today's a good day. I swear, if we put a bed in here for him, he'd never go home."
She chuckled. "Benton always did say he had a one track mind."
Stan just gazed heavenward in supplication and then called, "Come on, Jon, let's go. You're keeping the lady waiting."
"I'm coming," he mumbled, juggling an armload of printouts as he attempted to struggle into his coat.
Stan reached out, retrieved the stack of papers from him, and paged through it as Jonny shrugged into his coat. Snatching it back when Jonny would have reached for it again, Stan said, "I'll just set this on your desk for tomorrow."
"But -"
"Get him out of my sight, Barbara," Stan commanded. "Before I do something rash."
Barbara laughed and caught the young man by the arm, pulling him toward the doors. "Give it up, Jon. You aren't going to win this argument."
"Yeah, okay," he replied reluctantly, and then grinned at her again. "Let's go." They chatted companionably, talking about mutual acquaintances and life back in Rockport, as they descended the elevator and made their way out to the street. As they exited the building, Jonny paused.
"How did you get here?"
"I drove."
"So your car's parked around here somewhere?"
Barbara nodded. "Just up the street."
"Okay. Why don't we take your car and I'll leave ours here. Then I can take the T back in this evening and drive the car home when I'm done."
She arched an eyebrow in surprise, but nodded agreeably. "All right. I thought you didn't have a car."
Jonny grimaced slightly. "We have our Jetta from home. Dad insisted I take it when I left to come back here. Said it would cause him undue stress if I didn't."
"Taking advantage of the situation, was he?" she asked with a laugh.
"Pretty much. I have to admit, it sure is convenient to have it, though."
"I would imagine. Here we are." She routed in her purse and then tossed him the keys. "You can drive since you know where we're going."
"Where are we going?" he asked as he started the car.
"Well, I thought maybe we could pick up Jessie and then I'd take the two of you to dinner."
"Okay. I guess the best place to find Jess is at home. By the time we got down to MIT, she'd probably be out of her last class and we'd likely miss her at the transit station. It's just easier to go where I know she'll be heading."
"Fine. I'll leave it up to you."
Jonny swung out of the parking garage and turned, heading out into the gathering rush hour traffic. For a time the two of them were quiet as he moved expertly though the congestion, making for the freeway. When he hit the ramp, he accelerated aggressively, reached the end of it going the speed limit, and slotted neatly in between two cars with little more than two inches to spare. When Barbara released the pent up breath she didn't even realize she was holding, Jonny grinned at her.
"Only way to survive traffic in this town. If you aren't pushy, you end up at a dead stop at the top of the ramp and the people that pile up behind you are likely to do something nasty." Then his grin faded. "So why are you really here, Dr. Mason? Not that I'm not glad to see you, but this is a long way to come just to pay a social call. Is there something wrong with Dad?"
"No, Jon, I promise you. Healthwise, your father is fine."
"And otherwise?" When Barbara didn't answer immediately, Jonny sighed. "It's the business with Jess, isn't it? He's angry."
"No, he's not angry. It's her parents that are angry. Benton is the exact opposite. It's almost like he's using her anger as a form of penance. He feels bad about everything that happened and he's very grateful to her for standing up for you the way she did."
Jonny sighed. "I knew it. Hadji said they fought after Dad and I got into it that last time."
"Yes. And while I know that you and your father are making good progress in resolving your own problems, I think Jessie is having a tough time. Benton understands that, but that doesn't mean that her unwillingness to let it go doesn't hurt."
"I really don't understand her, Dr. Mason. She just can't seem to let it drop, even though she knows that Dad and I have made peace. There are still times when Dad can set me off and times when I do the same to him; that's natural I guess. But she won't give an inch. It's not like her to hold a grudge like this."
"Isn't it? Her parents say it is . . . that it takes a lot to push her that far, but when something finally does, she can cling to that anger tenaciously."
"Yeah, okay, she can be that way sometimes," he acknowledged reluctantly. "But not without good cause and definitely not about stuff that's blatantly unfair. If he had acted the way he did deliberately and with malice . . . then yeah, it would be like her to hang onto it. But not like this. Not when she knows that it was something beyond his control."
"Well, I'm hoping to talk to her about it. See if I can figure out what the problem is. Do you think she'll be willing to do that?"
Jonny shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Maybe. She won't talk to me about it, that's for sure. I've tried. But you told us once that when you're really upset like this, sometimes the last person you want to talk to is someone that's close to the situation. You're close, but not as close as her parents or me, so maybe she will."
"It's worth a try at any rate."
Conversation between them died down, and eventually, Jonny turned onto a narrow, tree-lined street some distance from downtown. Here, his aggressive driving tendencies were not in evidence, as he moved slowly and cautiously down the snow-packed road. In the rapidly gathering twilight, Barbara could still see people moving around the neighborhood. On one side of the street were a group of children working diligently on a huge snowman. They stopped and stared at the car and Barbara got the feeling that strange vehicles were not the norm in this private little backwater. They all began calling and waving, however, as they recognized Jonny at the wheel. He grinned and waved back cheerfully. A bit further up, she spotted an elderly woman standing ankle-deep in snow next to what was obviously an old apartment building. Her hands were on her hips and the tension in her stance told Barbara that she was angry.
Carefully, Jonny parked the car along the curb across the street from the apartment building and climbed out hastily. "Is everything all right, Mrs. Taylor?" he called anxiously, crossing to her as Barbara stepped out into the snow.
The woman turned her formidable glare on Jonny, only to have it fade into a pleasant smile as she recognized him. "Oh hello, dear. Home early, are you? That's nice. It will make young Jessica very happy . . . although, she's not home yet. Mercy, she's getting to be as bad as you are. Young people nowadays . . . never seem to stay at home any more. Mrs. Jensen down on two needs to talk to you. Claims her windows aren't opening properly again, though why she would want to have them open in this weather is beyond me. MAGNUS, YOU COME HERE THIS INSTANT! Stupid creature. Don't know why I put up with him . . . more work than he's worth. MAGNUS! I don't believe I know your friend, dear."
Barbara would have sworn that the woman's entire speech had been uttered without a single breath of air and it left her feeling a bit dazed, but Jonny seemed to take it totally in stride. "Mrs. Jensen and her windows. Yes, ma'am. I'll check on them as soon as I can. This is Dr. Mason. She's a friend from Maine who's just here for the day. If you'll look after her for a minute, I'll go get Magnus. Is he in the Winchester's back yard?"
"Well, of course he is, dear. That poodle of theirs is probably in heat again. Those people shouldn't be allowed to own a pet if they aren't going to take care of it properly!"
"Yes, ma'am," Jonny replied, having obviously heard the lady's opinion on this matter before. "I'll be right back." And with that, he took off through the snow between the two buildings calling for the creature Barbara assumed was a dog.
"It's very nice to meet you. I'm Mrs. Taylor. I live downstairs from Jon and Jessica."
"How do you do, Mrs. Taylor. I'm Barbara Mason, a long-time friend of Jon and Jessica's family."
"So the boy said. And a doctor, too. A medical doctor?"
"Yes."
"Good for you! Girls these days should have something to keep them busy. This business of sitting at home embroidering is nonsense. Not that I have anything against embroidery, mind you. Every girl should know how to do it. But it can be incredibly boring sometimes, can't it?"
It was all Barbara could do to keep her smile hidden. "Absolutely," she agreed. "It is nice to have something else to get you out of the house."
"Now see, that's what I keep telling my nephew. But does he listen to me? Of course he doesn't! Ah, here they are . . ."
Barbara looked up and blinked in astonishment as Jonny reappeared leading the largest dog she'd ever seen. The animal bounced along beside him, trying to lick his hand while Jonny clung tenaciously to his collar and told him what a bad dog he was. He greeted the tiny Mrs. Taylor exuberantly, causing her to laugh.
"Magnus, this is Dr. Mason," Mrs. Taylor told the animal, gesturing for Barbara to hold out her hand. "She's a friend." The dog sniffed the hand and then licked it, wagged his tail, and let out a thunderous bark of approval. All three of them laughed.
"Can you handle him from here, Mrs. Taylor?"
"Yes, dear. We'll be fine now. Mind you, don't forget Mrs. Jensen."
"Yes, ma'am."
Jonny led the way into the apartment building and punched the button for the elevator. "You're lucky," he commented to Barbara. "I think it's working. We finally found a repair service worth its weight in gold. They see to it that it stays in running order. So what did you think of Mrs. Taylor?"
"What a wonderful lady. But really, Jon, that dog!"
"Magnus is okay," Jonny said, chuckling a little, as they exited the elevator on the fourth floor and walked up the hall toward a door at the far end. "And he defends her faithfully. No one gives her any grief out on the street. Magnus may seem friendly, but he's an entirely different animal if someone threatens Mrs. Taylor. And the nice thing is, he's really good with all the kids in the area, too. This is a pretty safe neighborhood generally, but we had a problem with a drug peddler trying to approach the kids a couple of months ago. When Mrs. Taylor found out about it, she turned Magnus lose on him and we haven't been bothered since." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. "Well, here we are . . . home, sweet home."
He shoved open the door and flipped on the light, allowing Barbara to precede him into the room. She crossed the threshold and then stopped dead, gazing around in astonishment. The room looked like a set from some bad French Revolution movie. She swallowed hard, trying desperately to think of something nice to say, but wasn't able to come up with a thing. Behind her, she heard Jonny snicker.
"Don't even try to be polite," he told her. "It's god-awful. But the place came furnished and I guess the previous owner loved the stuff. Here, let me take your coat."
Barbara handed it over and then bent to look more closely at the coffee table in front of her. "Well, it may be out of date, but it's in beautiful condition. This stuff could be worth a fortune, Jon! These are high quality antiques."
"We're hoping so," he replied, turning from the coat closet and waving her to a chair. "Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? I think there might even be some hot chocolate?"
"I wouldn't mind something warm, if it's not too much trouble."
"No trouble at all. How about coffee? I could use some too."
"That would be fine. What do you mean, you hope so?"
"Well, this building is owned by a tenant's association that was established by the former owner. She died some years ago and left the building and an endowment to the tenants to ensure that they would always have a place to live. The proceeds from the endowment pay the taxes and general everyday maintenance, but there really isn't much left over to cope with sudden, catastrophic problems. Most of the people living here are older and many of them are on fixed incomes, so coming up with the money to take care of something major is a real problem." He reappeared in the kitchen door and leaned against the jamb comfortably. Behind him, Barbara could hear the sound of the coffee pot as it began to gurgle. "For example, I mentioned that the elevator was working again? We just had to have the drive motor and all of the wheels and pulleys replaced. The thing was ancient and we kept getting people stuck on it. The whole job cost over $20,000. These people don't have the money for that kind of thing."
"So how did you fund it?"
Jonny shrugged. "I helped the tenant's association put together a grant application to the Quest Foundation. This building is actually on the National Register of historic sites, so it qualified for aid. But they don't like taking 'charity' - that's how they think of it - so we're looking for better ways to bank for emergencies. We're in the process of getting all of the furniture and artwork in this apartment appraised. If it's worth even half as much as we suspect it is, we're going to contact some top-flight auction houses about selling all of it and then use the money to set up a trust, the earnings of which can be used to help fund maintenance of the building. It will make the tax situation a little more confusing, but I've found them a good attorney who tends to do most of the work pro bono, so that's helped a lot."
Barbara shook her head in amazement. Leave it to this young man to find a creative way to solve the problems of his neighbors. "What about you? What are you going do for furniture."
Jon shrugged. "We'll make do with what we can find at used furniture stores and the like for a while. There's also a really nice woodworking shop downstairs at the back of the building . . . belongs to one of the tenants. Her husband was a furniture maker before he died. She says Jess and I can use it any time, so we can probably build some pieces, too. We're not too worried about it." He laughed a little. "We're not home that much, anyway." He turned and glanced over his shoulder. "Looks like the coffee's done. You take it with a little bit of cream, don't you?"
She smiled at him. "You remembered." He grinned back and disappeared into the kitchen as she rose and wandered to the front window to look out. The streetlights had come on in the late evening dusk and they reflected off of the snow, giving the quiet street a particularly picturesque appearance.
"Here you go," Jonny said, handing her the cheap ceramic mug, adding apologetically, "I hate to abandon you, but I really should go down and check on Mrs. Jensen."
"Go right ahead. I don't mind a bit. Actually, I'd been thinking. Rather than taking you out to dinner, why don't I see what I can come up with to fix here? It saves us from going out in the snow, and it may be that Jessie will be just as happy to stay in once she finally gets home."
"I can't ask you to do that," Jonny protested. "You're a guest in my home -"
"No, I'm a friend in your home," Barbara corrected. "Your father lets me cook in his house. Why is this any different?"
"But -"
"Go on. Go see to Mrs. Jensen and let me see what I can scrounge up."
Reluctantly, Jonny trailed out as Barbara rose and went into the kitchen to forage. After a little bit of searching, she pulled out a couple of fresh chicken breasts, a can of tomato sauce, an assortment of spices, some fresh mushrooms and a box of spaghetti. By the time she heard the door again, the sauce for chicken cacciatore was bubbling in a pan on the stove and she had just turned on the heat under a pot of water to start the pasta.
"It's nothing fancy, but with a salad it should feed all of us," she called out, thinking Jonny had returned.
"Hello?" a startled voice came back in return, and an instant later Jessie Bannon appeared in the kitchen doorway. She held a hat in one hand and had not yet shed her coat. "Dr. Mason? What are you doing here?"
"Jessica!" Barbara came around the counter and crossed to hug the young woman. Jessie returned the gesture willingly enough, but when she stepped back, Barbara could see a frown hovering at the corners of her mouth.
"This is a surprise. What brings you to Boston?"
"Purely a social call."
"No, it's not," she replied in a hard tone, the frown blossoming into a full-blown scowl. "Dr. Quest sent you, didn't he?"
"No."
"Then my dad."
"No, not him either. Or your mother."
"Then why are you here?"
Barbara crossed her arms and surveyed the young woman in front of her thoughtfully. She was so tense Barbara could almost see her quivering, and her face was too white, emphasizing the dark circles shadowing her eyes. Barbara suddenly recalled a recent conversation with Estella. She had commented that she was worried about her daughter's continuing struggle to come to terms with what she'd seen and done in Bangalore, and looking at Jessie now, Barbara thought she had a right to be concerned. "I'm here because I'm worried about you," she replied quietly after a long moment.
"Well, you don't need to bother," she replied jerkily and then turned and disappeared into the other room. Barbara stared thoughtfully after her for a moment and then returned to the stove where she stirred the sauce and began adding pasta to the now boiling pot of water. She could hear Jessie moving around in the living room and waited patiently. After several minutes, she reappeared in the kitchen doorway.
"What are you doing?"
"Making dinner."
"You're a guest in our home. Why are you stuck making dinner? Where's Jon?"
"Down checking on Mrs. Jensen's windows." She glanced up from the pasta pot and grinned. "I had the chance to meet Mrs. Taylor and Magnus on the way in. That's quite a pair."
Jessie grinned reluctantly. "Not many like Mrs. Taylor around. She's an angel, though."
"She certainly seems to be. And she's definitely taken a shine to the two of you. Come over here and sample this sauce and tell me if you think it needs more oregano."
Obediently, Jessie did as Barbara asked. "No, it's good. I wouldn't add anything else. Look, Dr. Mason, you really don't -"
"Let's leave it for right now, shall we? I'd like to spend some time just catching up." Barbara smiled at the young woman next you her. "I've missed both of you. Rockport just doesn't seem the same without you guys around." Barbara didn't miss the look of longing that flickered across Jessie face, but in the blink of an eye it was gone again and the shadow of a frown returned. Barbara sighed softly. "Jessie, I won't lie to you. I came down here specifically to talk about your problems with Benton. But I've never taken sides in any of the disputes you've had within your family and I'm not going to start now." Deep inside of her, Barbara felt that cold presence stir, the anger it harbored licking along her senses like a living thing. Once again, she crooned silently to it, urging patience. "Jon has to go back into work tonight, so what do you say we enjoy ourselves while he's still here and we can talk once he leaves again?"
This time is was Jessie's turn to sigh and shake her head. "Naturally. Work is all he ever does."
"Well, what can you expect? Benton's a work-a-holic, so I'm not surprised the rest of you are, too." Both of them heard the sound of the key in the door at the same time. "We can talk about that later, too, if you'd like. And if it's any consolation, he has to be out of the office by midnight - Stan's orders."
"Well, that's something . . ."
"Dr. Mason? Jessie? Hey, where is everybody?"
"How about another cup of coffee?" Jessie asked about three hours later. Jonny had left to head back to the office and the two women had just finished cleaning up the kitchen. "We can take them out and sit at the dining room table."
"Sounds good to me." While Jessie poured the coffee, Barbara wandered back out into the living room and gazed around her.
No, this environment really isn't them, she mused with a touch of humor. I'm not sure I'd want to spend a lot of time here, either.
"Is all the furniture like this?" she asked Jessie as she came out of the kitchen.
The young woman grimaced. "Every bit of it. Didn't Jon show you around?" When she shook her head, Jessie gestured and the two of them spent the next several minutes wandering through the two-bedroom apartment. When they returned to the living room, Barbara shook her head again.
"I don't claim to be an expert on French Provencal furnishings, but I've done enough antiquing to suspect that you're right about the value of all of the stuff here. And not just the furniture, either. The rugs, the pictures, even the frames on some of the reprints in the back room . . . I think all of it is probably valuable."
Jessie raised her eyebrows. "Even the picture frames? I mean, they're the most awful things I've ever seen!"
Barbara grinned at her. "There's no accounting for taste, and they are classic for the period. I'd be sure to have all of it appraised . . . and probably by more than one person. I've got some friends who are seriously into antiques. I could probably get you some names if you'd like."
"That would be great. We've got a local guy coming in, but a second opinion is probably a good idea." Jessie gestured Barbara to a chair and the two of them settled down across the corner of the table from each other. Then Jessie sighed and said quietly, "You know, Dr. Mason, I really do appreciate your willingness to try to intervene again, but it really isn't any of your business."
"It wasn't the first time, either," Barbara pointed out with a smile, "but it didn't stop me then and it won't now. Jessie, you need to talk to someone about this . . . if not me, then someone else. The truth is, right now you're acting as strangely as Benton did when he pulled the stunt with Jon's admission to M.I.T."
Jessie's mouth tightened and anger flared in her eyes. "Am I? Don't I have the right to be angry when the one person who can really hurt Jon verbally abuses him? Were you there? Did you hear what he said?"
"No." Barbara watched as Jessie flushed, the memory of the incident fueling the anger that had been bottled up inside her for over two months. She surged to her feet, obviously unable to sit still any longer, and began prowling the living room restlessly. Turning in her chair to keep the young woman in sight, she said encouragingly, "Tell me about it."
"You don't know what it's been like . . . living here. Both of us love it, but it's not easy. We were stupid when we first moved out . . . put ourselves in an awkward position financially, particularly since I had to quit working when I started going to school full time. So money is really tight. But that's the easy part . . ."
"And the hard part?" Barbara prompted softly, when Jessie stopped to stare out the window at the snow-shrouded streets. For a moment, she was silent. Then she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the windowpane wearily.
"He works. And he works. And he works . . . it's like an obsession. He has to do everything anyone asks. He has to meet deadlines . . . even unreasonable ones . . . without trying to find some sort of compromise that's do-able. And worst of all . . . he seems to feel that he has to be perfect. He can't make mistakes." Jessie turned from the window and looked at the older woman with an expression that made Barbara's heart ache. "You couldn't know what it was like then. He was exhausted . . . fighting to meet a deadline that no one could have made . . . doubting himself and his abilities . . . so certain he was going to fail, and terrified he'd lose his job and not be able to pay the rent." Jessie closed her eyes and Barbara saw her fighting to suppress the tears that were choking her voice. "The night before Dr. Quest called, he didn't get home until almost 3:30 in the morning. He was so tired he could barely even walk, let alone think clearly; and he kept talking about blowing the presentation he was trying to put together and getting fired . . ."
Barbara fought the urge to go to her, knowing that it was vital that she keep Jessie talking rather than offering comfort that might give her the chance to bottle it all up again. She sat at the table in silence, letting Jessie struggle to find some way to continue. Finally, she looked at Barbara again, and this time the expression was bleak. "I couldn't take it anymore, Dr. Mason. I couldn't stand seeing him do this to himself."
"So what did you do?" Barbara prompted softly.
Jessie scrubbed at her forehead with her hand and then sighed deeply. "I called Stan. Jon was due at a staff meeting at 7:00 that morning. Rather than waking him, I called and asked if I could let him sleep late and get some rest. I- I guess I kind of fell apart. Stan was really nice about it . . . said they weren't deliberately trying to do this to him, and that all he had to do was ask for more time. He also told me that he wanted me to let him know when Jon was getting like this and that they would find a way to put a stop to it."
Barbara nodded. "Stan made a stray comment to me once that they had to watch him or he drove himself too hard."
"It's just that he feels like he has so much to prove."
"To whom?"
Jessie gestured vaguely. "To Dr. Quest maybe? Or to himself? Maybe even to all of those nameless people who seem to expect so much from him just because he's Benton Quest's son. I really don't know. All I do know is that after all of that, Dr. Quest came along and ruined everything!" And just the quickly the anger was back.
"How? What did he do?"
Her eyes were almost feverishly bright, her fury a living thing, as she spat back, "You really want to know? Fine! I'll show you!" Whirling, she disappeared down the hallway toward the back of the apartment and a moment later, Barbara could hear her searching for something.
The anger from that other presence that had been simmering for the last three days erupted into icy fury as Jessie disappeared from the room. Its force was enough to cause Barbara to sway in her chair as the ghost of Rachel Quest fought for dominance within her.
NO! Barbara snarled silently, pitting her will against that of the dead woman. YOU WILL LET ME DEAL WITH THIS!
Through the fury, Barbara could pick up a sense of injustice and denial.
He was sick! And that sickness was causing him to be unfair. She wasn't there . . . didn't see what it did to him.
Again the rage surged, threatening to engulf her, and again she fought to suppress it.
What would you have had her do? Barbara questioned the angry spirit, her own anger rising to give her strength. Stand back and let your son face the onslaught alone until he couldn't take it any more and he broke? Abruptly, the relentless pressure eased, and Barbara felt a sudden sense of uncertainty. Ruthlessly, she pressed her advantage. She loves him . . . just as you loved Benton. Didn't you try to protect him when you thought people were taking advantage or treating him unfairly? Agreement came wordlessly. Then how can you fault her for doing the same for your son?
Barbara could sense the spirit's reluctance to be reasonable, but finally felt her icy presence retreating back into that distant place once more. There was a clear sense of warning in those final fleeting moments, however, to which Barbara replied, She's a good person and Benton loves her. You have to give her a chance. And then Jessie was back, something small clutched in one hand. Crossing the room to the answering machine, Jessie popped the tape holder open, removed the tape in the machine and inserted the one she had retrieved from the other room.
"Here. I'll let you judge for yourself," she said in a clipped, angry tone. "You tell me if I don't have a right to be mad." Barbara sat silently, listening as the tape ran through two brief messages of Benton calling looking for Jonny. She noted sadly that Benton hadn't asked for or about Jessie in either message. Barbara sat forward sharply as the tape began playing back the third message and she realized that the answering machine had caught the entire fight between Benton and his youngest son.
No wonder she was so angry, Barbara thought wearily as she listened. The strain in Jonny's voice was unmistakable, and initially his responses were sluggish and inattentive, as if he was having trouble thinking clearly. Benton, on the other hand, sounded as though he knew exactly what he was doing, and the condescension and sarcasm in his tone as the conversation progressed caused her to shudder. The image of Jessie's face on that fateful day rose to her mind's eye, and her words echoed in Barbara's ears . . . "He's done nothing to deserve having you say those things to him, and I won't tolerate it! You just remember what I said, Dr. Quest. If you want to be a part of your son's life . . . of Rachel's son's life, then you better not do this again, or I swear to you . . . I'll see to it that you won't have the chance to do it a third time!"
The spirit within her shuddered convulsively, sending a chill through Barbara's entire body, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if she would ever be warm again. But the sense that filled her from that ghostly presence was no longer anger . . . now it was betrayal and grief. An emotion so deep that it was all Barbara could do not to burst into tears where she sat.
Silence descended both within and without after the recording ended. Jessie sat motionless on the nearby sofa, as if the replayed conversation had destroyed the last remaining strength she possessed, while Barbara struggled desperately to bring her own battered emotions under control. The resounding **CLICK** of the answering machine shutting off caused both of them to start violently. After a moment, Jessie rose, returned to the machine, and hit the rewind button.
"You don't know how many times I've tried to throw this away," she said wearily, her earlier anger seemingly spent. "For a while, I kept it locked away in the safety deposit box, but I finally retrieved it, intending to get rid of it. And yet, somehow, I just can't."
"Why not?"
"I don't know."
"What do you want to do with it?"
"I don't know that, either."
"It was the illness, Jessie. Surely you know that."
"Do I?" she asked heavily, her back still to Barbara. The machine kicked off again and Jessie removed the tape and put the original one back in. Clutching it tightly, she returned to the sofa, sat down again, and stared at it for a long time. When she finally looked up at Barbara once more, her eyes were dark and full of pain. "Do we really know it was the illness? Or are we simply hoping that it was? I've gone over and over it, trying to find some way to assure myself that Dr. Quest wouldn't do something like this to his own son. But I keep coming back to the same things. How many families have you known, Dr. Mason, who got along beautifully until their children reached high school, only to have the entire dynamic change . . . just like it did with us? And those people don't have Smallwood's chip to blame it on. I mean, are fights about school, and girlfriends, and life choices really so unusual? What makes Dr. Quest so different that he's above being unreasonable when he disapproves of his son's choices?"
"You know him, Jessie -"
"I'm not so sure anymore. And let me ask you something else that's really been bugging me. If it was the illness that caused his behavior, then why were only Jon and I the targets? I never heard that he became angry or unreasonable with Hadji. Or Mom and Dad, for that matter . . . only with Jon, and by association, me. Isn't it more likely that the illness only amplified a mindset or behavior that was already there? And if that's true, then what's to prevent him from doing this again the next time Jon does something he doesn't like?"
Barbara sighed softly and shook her head, recognizing the apparent logic of Jessie questions. "You weren't there, Jessie. You didn't see the illness progress the way we did . . . watch the way it changed him, day by day, until he became someone we hardly even knew anymore. Am I going to tell you that his concerns about you and Jon and the initial roots of his distress were caused by the illness? No. They were there long before Smallwood's tampering began to manifest itself. But they are the natural concerns of any parent. Even Race admits that he suffered the same reservations. He just never let you see them. The illness didn't change his worries, only changed the way he reacted to them. And it's not just Benton. I can document the same sort of changes from the medical records of more than 500 other people who suffered and died as the result of Smallwood's tampering. As for Hadji and your parents? Benton's behavior changed toward them, too. Not as markedly, certainly, but it did change. I can only guess why, but I think I'm fairly close to the mark. In some indefinable way, Benton simply wasn't as close to those three as he was to you and Jon."
"Are you saying that he did this because he loved Jon and me more than he did Hadji, Dad and Mom?" she demanded incredulously.
Barbara shook her head. "No, but his emotional ties to the two of you were stronger."
"I might buy that with Dad and Mom, but not Hadji!"
"Jessie, even if he didn't realize it, Benton has been slowly disengaging himself from Hadji ever since the discovery was made about this past."
Jessie shot to her feet, glaring at Barbara as she began to pace restlessly again. "That's a terrible thing to say! Dr. Quest never loved Hadji any less than he did Jon."
Barbara struggled to hide the smile that tried to form as she finally felt herself beginning to make headway. I wonder if she even realizes that she's started defending Benton? Barbara thought, and deep inside she felt that spirit stir again.
"Hear me out. You have to remember how many people of singular importance Benton has lost in his life. He is extremely sensitive to it. He knew clear back when Hadji was only 14 that the day would come when he would have to relinquish that close association the two of them had shared. All of you have pointed out time and again how much alike they are, and it had to have been hard for Benton to accept that one day Hadji would have to leave permanently. I doubt that any of you ever dreamed that Hadji would give it all up to stay here. So as a defense mechanism, they both began to withdraw. Did that mean they didn't love each other just as much? Of course not. What it did mean was that they both began building emotional walls around themselves in an effort to shield themselves from the hurt of separation they knew was inevitable. But Benton never did that with Jon, or with you. He never dreamed that he would have to. Which is why it was the two of you who took the brunt of it when his behavior changed."
"I don't know . . ." Jessie replied painfully. "I don't know what to do."
Barbara rose and crossed the room to hug her consolingly. Then she led her back to the sofa where the two of them sat down again. "I know. But there's only one thing you can do, Jessie . . . one thing you should do . . . if not for Benton's sake, then for Jon's. You have to talk to him . . . preferably face-to-face . . . and try to work out these issues." She reached out and tilted Jessie's head up until she was forced to meet her eyes. "He loves you very much. Don't keep punishing him for something he had no control over."
"But what if I can't control my temper?" she whispered. "What if I get mad again and lash out at him the way I did the last time?"
Barbara smiled. "As he keeps reminding me, he's a lot stronger than any of us are willing to give him credit for right now. I think he'll weather the storm, as long as the two of you are willing to try to work through this. I know he is. Will you at least try?"
Jessie sat for a minute, turning the tape over and over in her hand as she stared at it intensely. "I - I don't how -"
"You take it one small step at a time. Come home for Christmas," Barbara urged her, "even if it can only be for a day or two. Your parents want you there and so does Benton. And Jon will be crushed if you refuse."
Finally, Jessie sighed deeply. "All right. I'll try. I won't promise anything, but I'll try."
"Good." Barbara reached out and closed her hand around the fist that clutched the tape. "Will you do one more thing for me? Will you let me have this? I swear I won't destroy it. And if, after Christmas, you want it back again, I'll give it to you. But for now, can you try letting it go and see if that will help you deal with this?"
Jessie's eyes bored into hers as if she was trying to read deep into her soul. Finally, reluctantly, her fist opened and she allowed the tape to drop into Barbara's waiting hand. "You swear you won't destroy it?"
"I swear."