Whispers in Silence -- 12
by BeckyS
15 Nov 2004

Adam was sitting up against a pile of pillows when Joe entered the room that evening. He pulled a chair over next to the bed, to Adam's left.

"Hey, brother," he said softly. "You were asleep when I came by earlier."

One corner of Adam's mouth lifted in a small grin of pure satisfaction and he held up four fingers.

"Yep, that's me, Cartwright number four," Joe laughed, then got serious again. "Doc said you wanted me to talk to you. I dunno why—"

Adam lifted his hand to cup it behind his ear, then shrugged.

"You can hear me better than Pa?"

Adam thought for a moment. He raised one finger.

"Pa," Joe guessed.

Adam nodded, then moved his hand forward, but with halts and starts. Then he raised four fingers, and moved his hand forward again, this time smoothly. He shrugged again.

Joe tilted his head to the side, thinking. "So you get more of what I say than Pa, but you don't know why."

He nodded again. Joe wondered idly if he was getting tired of nodding. Well, if Adam could put up with the frustration, so could he. "Doc said you had questions about what happened – why you can't talk."

Adam waved his hand in a series of get-on-with-it circles.

Joe blew out a breath. "Okay, okay. Doc explained it to me, and I'll do the best I can. Maybe we can just hit the big stuff tonight – save questions for tomorrow."

Adam simply waited, regarding him steadily.

"You were up at the mine, checking out the drift to tunnel three. Do you remember?"

Adam slowly shook his head.

"Do you remember the mine?" Joe asked.

Adam's eyebrows drew together as he thought. He snaked his hand forward, then to the side, and to the side again, drawing a pattern Joe recognized as a map of the first two tunnels.

"Tunnel three?"

Adam rubbed at his forehead, and his breathing quickened. He frowned, as if trying to remember. He eventually drew a third line in the air, but the frown didn't go away and Joe saw a fine tremor in his hand.

"It's okay, you don't have to remember everything."

The frown eased a little.

"You were in the drift to tunnel three, and the supports gave way."

Adam's eyebrows drew together again. Something was definitely bothering him about the drift, Probably because he got hurt there, but Joe had been told to explain his brother's injuries. They could get back to the mine later if the doctor thought it was important. "You were hurt when the ceiling came down." He paused to see if Adam was following him. When he had his attention again, he went on. "One of the rocks hit you on the head." He knocked himself on the side of the head where Adam's injury was, and waited.

Adam's hand went slowly to the lump above his ear, prodded at it gently. He winced.

"It's been about four weeks since the cave-in. That's how bad you were hurt."

Adam raised his eyes to his brother, questioning.

"Yeah," he breathed. "We thought for sure you were gonna die. Heck, we were surprised you were alive when we hauled you out. Everyone else—" He broke off. Adam didn't need to know.

But he did. Joe guessed he could see it in his face. He finished his sentence. "The others died. Good men." He rubbed his hands against his pants leg, as if he were back at the mine, trying to clean the dust and blood from them. "We did what we could for their families."

He took a deep breath and went on. "One of the rocks that fell busted your skull. Doc says it hurt your brain. You were completely out for a solid week – and it's only the last day or so you've really been back with us."

Adam's gaze seemed to turn inward. He shifted his right leg, then his left, wincing a little. He lifted his right arm and studied the splint, then ran his left hand over his ribcage. Finally he turned back to Joe.

"That's pretty much all of it. A real bad gash in your leg, cracked ribs, some broken bones in your hand. Doc says the bones should be in pretty good shape by now, but they aren't healed yet. The leg was doing fine until you whacked it the other day, set it back a week or so." He paused, not sure how much of that his brother had taken in.

Adam raised his hand to his head again.

Joe nodded. "That's gonna take longer. You're still seeing double – or triple, right? That's why you feel sick a lot."

Adam's eyes widened in what Joe could only interpret as grief. His voice softened. "I don't know why you can't talk. Doc says it has to do with where you got hit on the head." He paused. "He doesn't know if it'll get better."

Adam nodded slowly. He reached for Joe's hand and squeezed tight once, then closed his eyes and sank back into the pillows, his head turned away.

Joe rose and looked down at his brother. "You're welcome," he said softly, and left him to his thoughts.

When Joe came back downstairs, Ben could hear the heavy steps long before he saw his son. Joe trudged over to the settee and flopped down, sliding down until his head rested on the back. He blew out a heavy sigh and said, "Good thing you don't want me to do anything else tonight; I'm whipped." He looked around. "Where's Doc?"

"Sent Harry to drive him home. He's working too hard." Ben tamped a little more tobacco into his pipe and looked his son over appraisingly. "How did it go?"

"I think I got through to him, at least the main part. He was pretty tired, though. I don't think he got it all." He rubbed at his eyes, and Ben wondered if it was from fatigue or emotion.

"I'm sure you did the best you could," he said gently.

Joe stared into the fire. "It's hard, Pa."

"Hard to figure out how to talk to him? Hard to know what he wants?" He lit his pipe and drew deeply. "I know."

Joe held his fist against his chest. "It's hard . . . in here."

Ben felt his eyes fill. He knew exactly what Joe was talking about. "Yes, son," he answered. "It is."