Ben dipped his pen in the ink well and carefully blotted it, holding it poised over the paper. Dear Mr. Thorkelson, he began with a sweeping flourish. It was a few minutes before he realized that he had not written anything further - that, indeed, he could barely remember who Mr. Thorkelson was and what business he wanted with him. Guiltily, he glanced back at the papers scattered by his right hand. There was lots of carefully collected information in those papers - the makings of an excellent business deal. He thought so, anyway. He had read them over half a dozen times and they were as meaningless to him now as they had been the first time.
With an impatient sigh, he heaved himself from his chair and wandered the short distance to the stairs. He had promised himself that he would stay away from there, at least for a little while. Adam's condition was more or less the same, floating in some twilight world out of his father's reach, and hovering over him didn't help - indeed, it possibly made things worse, triggering dark memories whose details he simultaneously longed and dreaded to know. He had been up and down those stairs all day, a nuisance, even to himself, until he had finally sworn he would be sensible about things. Practical.
He leaned against the banister. Still. There was nothing sensible or practical about this situation. And heaven knew he wasn't accomplishing anything down here. And Hop Sing was busy fixing supper, so maybe it would be a good idea if he…? Just for a minute, maybe. He rested his foot on the first tread, thinking back to the early morning.
He had almost finished his breakfast when he had heard the sounds of horse hooves outside. He abandoned his plate and gone to the door to look out, curious. He knew it wasn't Hoss or Joe. There had been a bit of a prolonged discussion over breakfast about getting everyone back to some sort of normal work schedule, and both Hoss and Joe had balked. Not about working, but about spending the day far out on the range.
Ben had argued at first, but since he had to admit to himself that he wasn't planning on going any further than his desk either, he had eventually given in to Hoss's argument that there was enough blacksmithing to be done to keep them both busy and close at hand. It was true enough, and it would give them some good physical activity to focus on, which had been his principal goal in setting them back to work anyway. He had shaken his head as he'd watched them gather their things and set off for the forge. Well, he had always wanted his boys to be close to each other - too late to complain about it now.
Outside, he saw Roy dismounting and Paul tying his carriage to the hitching rail.
"You gentlemen must have had a very early start this morning."
Paul yawned as he returned to his carriage and lifted down his bag. "Not me. Haven't been to bed yet. Thought I'd stop before I headed home since it was on my way from the Wetherfords'. How's he doing this morning?"
Ben shrugged. "Hop Sing is changing the bandages."
Roy took off his hat as he followed them in, strangely subdued. Ben glanced at him, and he managed a tight smile in return. "Have a few things I need ta ask 'em."
"Well, he hasn't been alert enough to talk yet, but we can go upstairs and I'll let Paul decide." Ben started toward the stairs.
Roy glanced at the stairs and hesitated, then nodded somewhat reluctantly and followed.
"How's Miss Amelia?" Ben asked over his shoulder.
Now it was Paul's turn to hesitate. "She's - well, it's hard to say. Physically, she's fine. Mentally…there are some places further east that are having some amazing successes with problems like hers. I'd like to send her to one. Maybe we can get the funds together if we put the Fairchild place up for sale."
"Where, precisely? How far?"
Paul scratched at his ear. "Well, there's one in Indianapolis which has a reputation for being humane. They focus on health of body and health of mind..."
"Humane," Ben was surprised at how bitter his voice sounded. "The way they were humane to my son." He paused with his hand on Adam's door, his jaw twitching. He took a deep breath. "Indianapolis?"
"That's right. There's one in Michigan, too…"
Ben nodded shortly. "I would be happy to contribute passage for either one of those. One way, of course."
Paul raised his brows slightly, but nodded. "That's very generous."
Ben barked a laugh. "It's nothing of the kind and you know it." He looked at Roy. "Any word on the missing Fairchild boy?"
Roy cleared his throat. "Have a posse out scouring the area. Sent wires first thing this morning with a description. Pretty soon he shouldn't be able to turn around twice anywhere there's folks without bein' spotted."
Ben nodded again. "I - would prefer…" he hesitated, then tried again. "I don't know what people know about this so far? Charlie's already come to me to say he and the hands know Adam is alive, so I assume word's around town, too."
Roy shrugged. "Pretty big news, Ben. Ain't every day one of our leading citizens returns from the dead. Folks were at the wake and the funeral - it's gonna be the center of talk for some time to come."
"I know." Ben pressed one hand protectively on the door in front of him. "But the - details. Nobody has to know those, do they? I can't imagine how much Adam would hate…" he swallowed, continued quietly, "I don't want him tortured all over again. I want it to end. Here and now, as much as possible." He glanced painfully from one old friend to the other.
Paul looked down at his bag. "The details of a patient's history are always confidential, as far as I'm concerned."
Roy folded his arms. "I ain't no blabbermouth, Ben. You know that." He glanced at the door too, glanced away and exhaled slowly. "Y'know…" he seemed to struggle for the words he was looking for. "I knowed all three of those young ones - Amelia and David and Adam - ever since I moved here. Knew 'em as kids. Remember 'em as kids. Oh, I knew David was sullen and liked his bottle as he got older and Miz 'Melia was - well - was a little flighty, maybe, but…" He shook his head, dropping his eyes to study the hat clasped in his hands. His mouth twisted. "Ain't a thing about this whole affair I care ta blab about. Not more than's necessary. Had my way…" he shrugged.
Ben set his mouth in a grim smile. "Yes. That's how I feel too." He lifted the latch and gestured them ahead of him. Paul entered promptly, Roy seemed to hold back. Ben looked at him questioningly and Roy gave him a guilty, abashed smile and moved reluctantly into the room. Ben left the door open behind him - a lucky thing, since Roy hovered near the opening.
Hop Sing was finishing up his bandaging job and appeared to be unbruised. Ben was tempted to ask him his secret, but decided it was better if he didn't know too many of the details. Paul was busy firing questions at him.
Roy stayed near the door, only half looking at first, then gradually looking more directly. It was a familiar gesture, and Ben tried to remember where he'd seen it before. Oh, yes. Joe. He had done almost the exact same thing. Ben studied Roy more closely. Some of the stiffness seemed to melt from his expression even as he watched him and Ben followed his gaze.
Adam was restless and flushed again, and you could clearly see the great white swathings of bandages that covered his chest and secured his arm, the mottled array of bruises and drying scabs. Still, Roy looked suddenly more relaxed and natural. Ben opened his mouth to ask about it, suddenly remembered Adam's condition when Roy had last seen him. He winced. Oh, God, of course.
Roy and Adam had always had a friendship, even when Adam was young. Really, in some ways Roy was almost like a second…instinctively, he reached up and rested a hand on Roy's shoulder. Roy gave him a quick, ruefully appreciative glance in return.
This wasn't just his pain. No matter how much he hurt, he wasn't the only one hurting. He needed to remember that. Somehow, the thought was even comforting.
He couldn't exactly remember climbing the stairs, but somehow he was at the top again, his palm resting lightly on the door. Quietly, he pushed it open. He wasn't really sure what he expected to see. Some magical transformation, maybe. Adam, the Adam he knew, back in his bed. Oh, Adam was there all right, but somehow he wasn't - it was more unsettling than Ben knew how to describe. He lingered on the threshold. He had promised himself one quick look…he glanced over his shoulder back down the stairs. Hoss and Joe were still at work in the smithy, Hop Sing was banging pots in the kitchen. He stepped inside and let the door swing to behind him.
Adam was lying very still, his chest rising and falling slowly, the terrible hitch in his breathing that he had found so alarming barely noticeable now. Hop Sing had probably changed the sheets half a dozen times today, and despite the extra work, he seemed pleased about it, claimed it was a sure sign that the drugs were sweating their way out of Adam's system. Ben wished that he could share his optimism.
He approached the side of the bed, looking. Despite the fact that tea colored late afternoon light spilled into the room, the lantern remained lit. Ben was haunted by the idea of Adam finally awakening to find himself still in darkness and had kept it burning all day. Next to it was a small dish of incense, smouldering low, and the sight of it made Ben smile. Maybe these small tokens were doing them more good than they were Adam, but they couldn't hurt. He pulled his rocker close to the bed and sank into it, resting his elbows on the edge of the bed.
"I thought you were dead, you know," he said conversationally at last. "And yet I didn't, if that makes any sense. So I'm not making excuses for myself. I'm only saying that I thought I had real proof that you were…" his voice failed him and he brushed one hand lightly down the long bump under the covers that represented Adam's arm. It quivered for a moment, but didn't jerk away. He cleared his throat sharply. "I was afraid to believe, but I should have believed anyway. I should. I'm sorry, Adam.
I honestly don't know what broke my heart more - thinking you were dead, or finding out you were alive all the time, while I…" he rubbed a hand over his eyes and sat very still for a moment, trying to breathe past the steel knot that had tightened around his heart. When he thought he could speak again he managed a faint, sad smile.
"I don't really know whether I'm longing for you to wake up or dreading it. How do I face you? I failed you. Oh, I know what you'd say, but I did - I know I did."
Suddenly disturbed by the sight of the bandages, brilliant white in the fading light, he reached out and gingerly tugged the covers upward toward Adam's chin, adjusting them delicately. "And no matter what I do now, it doesn't really change that, does it?" He leaned back in the chair and rocked gently to and fro. His hand hovered over the music box, dropped. Usually in these moments he reached out to Elizabeth, but somehow she seemed remote this time - unreachable. And why not? He had failed her too. She had entrusted him with their son's care and well being and he had failed.
He let his head drop back against the chair headrest. "Do you remember when you were just a little boy, and it was just the two of us? I've been thinking of that a lot lately somehow - seeing you so clearly. You were such a solemn little boy sometimes," his mouth quirked into a weak, involuntarily smile. "I used to have to leave you every day to work and you always looked so sad to see me go. Oh, I know you meant to be brave, but I could tell." He stopped the rocker, let his hand lie on the quilt near Adam's arm. "I did think about you - wonder what you did to pass the time. Thought about how long the day must seem to a little boy alone. You never complained, though - not that I can remember. You just waited." He tightened his hand in the fabric of the quilt, started the rocker up again, slower this time.
"It's my turn to wait now, I guess - wait for you to come back to me. So I won't complain either. You take as long as you need, son. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be waiting. I'll be here."
