Chapter 19 Don could not bring himself to persuade his father to go home. When Dr. Gregory, the trauma surgeon who had performed Charlie's procedure, made his final rounds that evening, he found them both in the room.
He nodded, checked the notations on Charlie's chart, looked carefully at his patient. Then he turned, looking at his watch.
"It's almost 8 p.m.," he said to them. "He's out for the night. Hospital policy - you are, too"
Alan started to protest. "But"
The doctor began to herd them, as if they were stray cattle. "He's not in any danger," he said. "There is nothing you can do here"
Still, Don kept his mouth closed. His father started to look at him, seemed to stop himself; deflate. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, straightened, looked the doctor in the eye. "My other son," he said, "I need to take my other son home. He needs rest. Our emergency contact numbers are on your chart"
The doctor checked. "Yes, home phone, cell phones...but as I said, Charlie's not in any danger"
Don kept hearing those words, as he allowed his father to take his arm and lead him from the room. "Charlie's not in any danger." Megan had come back, was waiting in the hall to drive them home. Sitting in the back of her car, head back, he still heard them...and he knew that they weren't true. Somehow, he and his father had let Charlie fall into the greatest danger of all. Two years after his mother's death, two years that passed as slowly as forever and as quickly as yesterday, two years after Don had physically pried him away from his garage blackboards filled with numbers and dragged him, he thought, back into their lives...two years later, Charlie could look at a crazy woman holding him at gunpoint, and ask to die.
Charlie was not out of danger.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX The next morning in the bullpen, Colby looked up, saw Don and Alan step from the elevator. "Heads up," he said and David and Megan followed his gaze.
Megan stood, walked to meet them. "How are you this morning?", she said to them both, but she was looking at Don. He had on his work face. "Good," he said shortly, kept walking. "Let's go the conference room. Tell us what you've got"
The group made their way into the conference room, and sat around the large table. David looked at Alan. "Charlie"
"I called the hospital before we came. They said he had as good a night as could be expected..." He looked uncertainly at Megan. "I'm not sure what that means"
"We're going right there as soon as we hear what you've got," Don interrupted impatiently.
Megan met his eyes. "You've both had breakfast"
He sighed, rolled his eyes. "Oatmeal. Now what did you find out? This lady just fixated on my Dad over a copy of 'Moby Dick' and morphed into...into...I don't even know what"
"No, it was a longer road than that," Colby answered, opening a file. "Apparently Rosa Marimot lost a child almost 30 years ago. Her husband divorced her. She became progressively reclusive after that. She was very self-contained out on that property. She's lived there for years, but people in the same area hadn't even met her"
"Why did she join a book club, then?", asked Alan.
"Obviously something served as a catalyst," Megan said. "If I had to guess, which I do, since she's still catatonic, I'd say it was the upcoming 30th birthday of that child. Somehow she convinced herself that she could get him back, or a reasonable substitute. Maybe she thought if she could prove herself as a mother, her husband would come back"
Don shuddered, held up a hand. "Stop guessing." The three agents and his father all looked at him. He looked back, knew he could never explain something he didn't understand himself. "Anything else"
"Well..." Colby was still looking at Don, but dropped his eyes to the file again. "A search of the property didn't turn up much you don't know about. The room, the rifle...the cat..." He looked back at Don. "Except"
"What?" Don watched Colby's face.
"When we were looking for you, we went over the cases of other people reported missing in that area in the last six months. We tied Rosa Marimot's name to a carpenter, still missing. One of the things our CSI guys took samples of was the fertilizer in the greenhouse. They figured it was some kind of home manufactured stuff, because it was packed in plain burlap bags." Colby stopped talking for a moment, looked at David.
He took pity on the other man and took over the narration.
"There are human bone fragments in it." He let that sink in. "They're trying to get enough for DNA," he added, "but even if they do, we may not be able to get anything of the missing carpenter's to compare it with; he went missing four months ago, his apartment has been cleaned out and rented again"
"But one thing we know for sure," Colby took over the report again, "is that part of that fertilizer used to be human." He looked again at a photo in front of him. "Pretty impressive tomatoes, though"
All three agents looked at Alan in surprise when they heard him groan, saw him turn green and press a hand to his mouth. "Mr. Eppes?" Megan touched his arm lightly. "Are you all right? Do you need some water"
He stood. "I think air is more in order," he answered, looked briefly at Don. "I'll wait for you outside." When he reached the door of the conference room, he turned around again to face the agents. "Thank you," he said softly. "I want to thank you all"
"You're sure you're all right?" Megan half-stood, but he waved her back down. "Yes, yes. I just need some air"
"Should someone go with him?", David asked Don as the door closed behind Alan.
"I'm going," Megan said, and followed Alan out the door.
"What happened? What did I say?" Colby seemed genuinely concerned, and Don stood up as well, walked slowly to a window.
"I stayed with him at the house last night," he began. "When we got there, I found a jar of home-canned tomatoes on the kitchen table. He said they were from Rosa"
"Shit," Colby breathed, while David uttered an anxious, "He didn't eat any, did he"
"No, he's allergic to tomatoes. And when he told me where they were from..." Don turned around to face his friends again. "I threw the jar against a wall. Shattered it." David and Colby were silent as Don walked back to the table, sat down.
"We spent the next half hour," he continued, "cleaning up glass, and washing your carpenter off our walls." XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Alan had been anxious to reach Charlie again, but his son still lay in much the same position as he had left him. He looked at his face for a moment, touched the part of arm he could access, and wandered to the window, leaving Don standing at the end of the bed.
"She didn't hurt you?" It was almost a whisper, but Don heard it. "No, Dad. At least she kept us together"
Alan turned, the light at his back as he faced Don. "I've hurt you, though." He held up his hand to stop his son's protests. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let you take on so much, these last few years"
"Dad..." Don felt the tears pressing at the back of his eyes. "I wanted to be there for you. I want to, now"
Alan walked back toward his son. "I will always need you, Donnie. You will always be my boy, no matter how old either one of us gets." He stood directly in front of Don, now. "But maybe it's time," he said, softly. "Maybe it's time for me to work a little harder at standing on my own, again"
His hand was on the back of Don's head, buried in his hair...like Charlie's had been once, in the room, Don remembered...and he let his head be drawn to his father's shoulder. He didn't plan it, he didn't think about it, he didn't know how long it had been going on...he just knew that he and his father had their arms around each other, when they both heard a stirring from Charlie's bed.
Like Keystone Kops they tripped over each other's feet as they rushed to the head of the bed. Don saw Charlie struggling to open his eyes, moving his head on the pillow. "Wake up, Buddy," he encouraged, while he saw his father's hand on Charlie's brow, heard his father murmur, "Come on, Son, wake up, now"
Slits. The eyes were open slits. It looked like he was trying not to breathe too deeply, as if he didn't want to risk moving his shoulder. His brother swallowed, painfully it seemed, and his father's voice commanded, "Give him some water." Don carefully lifted Charlie's head off the pillow, but still his brother groaned. He placed the straw in Charlie's mouth, and he sipped weakly. Don placed his head gently back on the pillow, returned the glass to the bedside table. He looked back at Charlie, and his eyes were opened wider now. Don was not sure that was a good thing, because his brother's eyes, always so expressive, seemed almost black with pain.
Charlie swallowed again, more easily this time, looked at Don. "Please," he whispered.
Don looked over at his father. "Do you think he means 'thank you"
Alan shook his head in confusion, and they heard the door open behind them. A nurse was soon as their side.
"Good morning, Dr. Eppes! How long have you been with us"
Alan looked at her. "Just now, he just woke up"
Charlie was still looking at Don. "Please," he said again.
"That's all he's said," Don looked at the nurse helplessly. She reached for Charlie's IV bag, raised a syringe to the port. "He's probably needing this," she offered. "It's morphine"
Don looked back at Charlie and saw both recognition there and something else...a hope like one he hadn't seen since his brother was seven years old, and was reaching eagerly over the table to accept a birthday gift from his mother. "Please," Charlie said again, and closed his eyes.
The nurse finished with the syringe, capped it, leaned over Charlie. "What does he love?" she asked softly. "Numbers," said Don, while his father offered, "Hiking? He went to a state park in Oregon last summer, brought back beautiful pictures of waterfalls"
"Charlie," she said, more loudly this time. "Listen to the roar of the water. Remember the feeling of walking behind the falls, catching the mist on your face...In between the falls, the woods were dark, smelled earthy, were silent and noisy all at the same time...Can you hear the birds? Can you see them flitting from tree to tree"
Don watched his brother's forehead smooth, saw his breathing become more regular, knew he was sleeping again.
The nurse straightened, smiled at Alan and Don. "Silver Falls. I've been there myself"
"Thank you," Alan breathed, as she walked to the wall to the sharps container.
"When he's a little more alert, later today, we'll put him on a PCA," she said. "Patient-controlled analgesia. He can administer his own morphine as the pain becomes too much." She stopped at Alan, patting him on the arm. "Don't worry, he can't overdose. The PCA is strictly regulated, but it should keep him more comfortable overall, and he won't have to wait for a nurse who's...", she looked at her watch, "20 minutes late"
"I appreciate that," Alan said, and she smiled again and left them alone with Charlie.
He nodded, checked the notations on Charlie's chart, looked carefully at his patient. Then he turned, looking at his watch.
"It's almost 8 p.m.," he said to them. "He's out for the night. Hospital policy - you are, too"
Alan started to protest. "But"
The doctor began to herd them, as if they were stray cattle. "He's not in any danger," he said. "There is nothing you can do here"
Still, Don kept his mouth closed. His father started to look at him, seemed to stop himself; deflate. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, straightened, looked the doctor in the eye. "My other son," he said, "I need to take my other son home. He needs rest. Our emergency contact numbers are on your chart"
The doctor checked. "Yes, home phone, cell phones...but as I said, Charlie's not in any danger"
Don kept hearing those words, as he allowed his father to take his arm and lead him from the room. "Charlie's not in any danger." Megan had come back, was waiting in the hall to drive them home. Sitting in the back of her car, head back, he still heard them...and he knew that they weren't true. Somehow, he and his father had let Charlie fall into the greatest danger of all. Two years after his mother's death, two years that passed as slowly as forever and as quickly as yesterday, two years after Don had physically pried him away from his garage blackboards filled with numbers and dragged him, he thought, back into their lives...two years later, Charlie could look at a crazy woman holding him at gunpoint, and ask to die.
Charlie was not out of danger.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX The next morning in the bullpen, Colby looked up, saw Don and Alan step from the elevator. "Heads up," he said and David and Megan followed his gaze.
Megan stood, walked to meet them. "How are you this morning?", she said to them both, but she was looking at Don. He had on his work face. "Good," he said shortly, kept walking. "Let's go the conference room. Tell us what you've got"
The group made their way into the conference room, and sat around the large table. David looked at Alan. "Charlie"
"I called the hospital before we came. They said he had as good a night as could be expected..." He looked uncertainly at Megan. "I'm not sure what that means"
"We're going right there as soon as we hear what you've got," Don interrupted impatiently.
Megan met his eyes. "You've both had breakfast"
He sighed, rolled his eyes. "Oatmeal. Now what did you find out? This lady just fixated on my Dad over a copy of 'Moby Dick' and morphed into...into...I don't even know what"
"No, it was a longer road than that," Colby answered, opening a file. "Apparently Rosa Marimot lost a child almost 30 years ago. Her husband divorced her. She became progressively reclusive after that. She was very self-contained out on that property. She's lived there for years, but people in the same area hadn't even met her"
"Why did she join a book club, then?", asked Alan.
"Obviously something served as a catalyst," Megan said. "If I had to guess, which I do, since she's still catatonic, I'd say it was the upcoming 30th birthday of that child. Somehow she convinced herself that she could get him back, or a reasonable substitute. Maybe she thought if she could prove herself as a mother, her husband would come back"
Don shuddered, held up a hand. "Stop guessing." The three agents and his father all looked at him. He looked back, knew he could never explain something he didn't understand himself. "Anything else"
"Well..." Colby was still looking at Don, but dropped his eyes to the file again. "A search of the property didn't turn up much you don't know about. The room, the rifle...the cat..." He looked back at Don. "Except"
"What?" Don watched Colby's face.
"When we were looking for you, we went over the cases of other people reported missing in that area in the last six months. We tied Rosa Marimot's name to a carpenter, still missing. One of the things our CSI guys took samples of was the fertilizer in the greenhouse. They figured it was some kind of home manufactured stuff, because it was packed in plain burlap bags." Colby stopped talking for a moment, looked at David.
He took pity on the other man and took over the narration.
"There are human bone fragments in it." He let that sink in. "They're trying to get enough for DNA," he added, "but even if they do, we may not be able to get anything of the missing carpenter's to compare it with; he went missing four months ago, his apartment has been cleaned out and rented again"
"But one thing we know for sure," Colby took over the report again, "is that part of that fertilizer used to be human." He looked again at a photo in front of him. "Pretty impressive tomatoes, though"
All three agents looked at Alan in surprise when they heard him groan, saw him turn green and press a hand to his mouth. "Mr. Eppes?" Megan touched his arm lightly. "Are you all right? Do you need some water"
He stood. "I think air is more in order," he answered, looked briefly at Don. "I'll wait for you outside." When he reached the door of the conference room, he turned around again to face the agents. "Thank you," he said softly. "I want to thank you all"
"You're sure you're all right?" Megan half-stood, but he waved her back down. "Yes, yes. I just need some air"
"Should someone go with him?", David asked Don as the door closed behind Alan.
"I'm going," Megan said, and followed Alan out the door.
"What happened? What did I say?" Colby seemed genuinely concerned, and Don stood up as well, walked slowly to a window.
"I stayed with him at the house last night," he began. "When we got there, I found a jar of home-canned tomatoes on the kitchen table. He said they were from Rosa"
"Shit," Colby breathed, while David uttered an anxious, "He didn't eat any, did he"
"No, he's allergic to tomatoes. And when he told me where they were from..." Don turned around to face his friends again. "I threw the jar against a wall. Shattered it." David and Colby were silent as Don walked back to the table, sat down.
"We spent the next half hour," he continued, "cleaning up glass, and washing your carpenter off our walls." XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Alan had been anxious to reach Charlie again, but his son still lay in much the same position as he had left him. He looked at his face for a moment, touched the part of arm he could access, and wandered to the window, leaving Don standing at the end of the bed.
"She didn't hurt you?" It was almost a whisper, but Don heard it. "No, Dad. At least she kept us together"
Alan turned, the light at his back as he faced Don. "I've hurt you, though." He held up his hand to stop his son's protests. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let you take on so much, these last few years"
"Dad..." Don felt the tears pressing at the back of his eyes. "I wanted to be there for you. I want to, now"
Alan walked back toward his son. "I will always need you, Donnie. You will always be my boy, no matter how old either one of us gets." He stood directly in front of Don, now. "But maybe it's time," he said, softly. "Maybe it's time for me to work a little harder at standing on my own, again"
His hand was on the back of Don's head, buried in his hair...like Charlie's had been once, in the room, Don remembered...and he let his head be drawn to his father's shoulder. He didn't plan it, he didn't think about it, he didn't know how long it had been going on...he just knew that he and his father had their arms around each other, when they both heard a stirring from Charlie's bed.
Like Keystone Kops they tripped over each other's feet as they rushed to the head of the bed. Don saw Charlie struggling to open his eyes, moving his head on the pillow. "Wake up, Buddy," he encouraged, while he saw his father's hand on Charlie's brow, heard his father murmur, "Come on, Son, wake up, now"
Slits. The eyes were open slits. It looked like he was trying not to breathe too deeply, as if he didn't want to risk moving his shoulder. His brother swallowed, painfully it seemed, and his father's voice commanded, "Give him some water." Don carefully lifted Charlie's head off the pillow, but still his brother groaned. He placed the straw in Charlie's mouth, and he sipped weakly. Don placed his head gently back on the pillow, returned the glass to the bedside table. He looked back at Charlie, and his eyes were opened wider now. Don was not sure that was a good thing, because his brother's eyes, always so expressive, seemed almost black with pain.
Charlie swallowed again, more easily this time, looked at Don. "Please," he whispered.
Don looked over at his father. "Do you think he means 'thank you"
Alan shook his head in confusion, and they heard the door open behind them. A nurse was soon as their side.
"Good morning, Dr. Eppes! How long have you been with us"
Alan looked at her. "Just now, he just woke up"
Charlie was still looking at Don. "Please," he said again.
"That's all he's said," Don looked at the nurse helplessly. She reached for Charlie's IV bag, raised a syringe to the port. "He's probably needing this," she offered. "It's morphine"
Don looked back at Charlie and saw both recognition there and something else...a hope like one he hadn't seen since his brother was seven years old, and was reaching eagerly over the table to accept a birthday gift from his mother. "Please," Charlie said again, and closed his eyes.
The nurse finished with the syringe, capped it, leaned over Charlie. "What does he love?" she asked softly. "Numbers," said Don, while his father offered, "Hiking? He went to a state park in Oregon last summer, brought back beautiful pictures of waterfalls"
"Charlie," she said, more loudly this time. "Listen to the roar of the water. Remember the feeling of walking behind the falls, catching the mist on your face...In between the falls, the woods were dark, smelled earthy, were silent and noisy all at the same time...Can you hear the birds? Can you see them flitting from tree to tree"
Don watched his brother's forehead smooth, saw his breathing become more regular, knew he was sleeping again.
The nurse straightened, smiled at Alan and Don. "Silver Falls. I've been there myself"
"Thank you," Alan breathed, as she walked to the wall to the sharps container.
"When he's a little more alert, later today, we'll put him on a PCA," she said. "Patient-controlled analgesia. He can administer his own morphine as the pain becomes too much." She stopped at Alan, patting him on the arm. "Don't worry, he can't overdose. The PCA is strictly regulated, but it should keep him more comfortable overall, and he won't have to wait for a nurse who's...", she looked at her watch, "20 minutes late"
"I appreciate that," Alan said, and she smiled again and left them alone with Charlie.