Chapter 15

Amita stood, leaned over the table and closed the lap top. "It's been three hours," she said.

"What? Wait…" Charlie tried to open it again. "I just got started…"

This time she dragged the lap top over to her side of the table, quickly saving the open document and shutting down the system. "You know the deal. Three hours a day, and only on the days you don't see Dr. Sanderson." She shot him a look. "The time you spend working increases every week, just be patient." She reached for a stack of papers, pushed them across the table. "Here. These are graded. I think the two of us working together again on Saturday, we can get everything caught up."

Charlie accepted the papers. "That will be a relief." He looked at his friend. "I can't thank you enough for this, Amita."

She smiled. "I'm happy to help." She suddenly focused on the wall clock over Charlie's head. "I need to get going, though. One of those early departmental faculty meetings in the morning."

Charlie stood. "Let me walk you to your car."

Amita smiled again and leaned out of the dining room far enough to see Alan in the living room. "Good-night, Mr. Eppes! Thank you again for dinner."

He looked up from his book. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Amita. I'll see you Saturday?"

She nodded, felt Charlie's hand on her arm and let her guide them through the kitchen door.

Charlie helped Amita into the car, lifted a hand, then knocked on the window before she started backing away. After she lowered the window, he leaned in. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Remember when we were conducting that study to determine the detectable patterns to behavior as influenced by color?"

"I remember. I was considering including it in my thesis, but I didn't need it."

"Is it my memory, or did we discuss our own color preferences? Yours is green?"

Amita could see where this was going. "Um hmm…"

"So I did mention that I don't like yellow."

She laughed. "I couldn't bring myself to tell Megan. She seemed so fond of that color. And it's not egg-yolk yellow…it's a pastel. Try to think of it as 'cream on steriods'."

Charlie laughed. "I'll do that. I'm getting used to it, now."

"That reminds me. I wanted to borrow that book again, the one you let me borrow when I was working on my thesis?"

"Henderson's theory of binary entanglement reduction?"

She nodded.

"I'll look for it. I should have it for you next time."

Amita checked her rear view mirror. "Don's home. I'd better back out so he can get in the driveway. She turned back to Charlie, impulsively kissed his cheek. "I'll see you Saturday afternoon."

He waited in the driveway while his friend and his brother exchanged places. Don was smiling when he got out of the SUV. "What was that all about?"

Charlie was watching the last place he had seen Amita's car. "I'm not sure." He turned to Don. "You've been gone all afternoon. Back to work?"

"No, not officially. I had lunch with the team today, stayed a few hours to help them out on something. Then I went to a movie, actually."

"Good. You should do more for yourself." The two brothers started walking toward the kitchen door. "Take tomorrow. It's Friday. Dad will take me to my appointment, we'll probably have lunch afterwards, then I'll come back and sleep all afternoon, if it's another session like Tuesday's."

Don opened the door. "Hard to believe you're only going twice a week, now. And working at home."

Charlie hesitated. "Why is that hard to believe? Yesterday, when you went to your apartment to get some more clothes, and Dad was still after groceries…I was alone for 37 minutes."

Don wandered to the refrigerator to grab a beer, sat down at the table. "We're suffocating you."

Charlie joined him at the table. "A little bit. I just feel like you're waiting for me to break."

Don didn't answer.

"It's been over a month, Don. Dr. Sanderson and I are talking about my going back to Cal Sci full time in three weeks, when the new semester starts."

"Really? Are you ready for that?"

Charlie looked over Don's shoulder, "I said we're talking about it. Every day, I have so much more energy. I can't make this house my world forever."

"You can't push yourself too hard, either. You always have."

"No consulting. No research projects. At least for a while, until I see how it goes just to be working again. If I'm thinking of working again, you should be, too."

Don considered how to present his next statement, finally decided he might as well just say it. "Charlie…my job…an agent has to have his wits about him. His concentration can't be somewhere else, in the field. That's how accidents happen."

Charlie stiffened, and words poured out of him. "You're right. You shouldn't go back. Don't go back. It's not time to go back."

Don placed the bottle on the table. "Calm down, Charlie. I'm just telling you that so you will see that I take it seriously. I do everything I can to be responsible, and careful, for myself and other agents." He circled the bottle in the condensation on the table. "I wonder if we could make a contract."

"A what?"

"I could promise you that I will always view my job that way, that you can trust me to do it wisely…and you could promise me that if you see a pattern developing, that isn't safe for you, you'll do something about it. Tell me. Dad. Dr. Sanderson."

Charlie looked at Don, saw the sincerity in his eyes. "I think I could live with a contract like that."

Don smiled. "I'll count on that."

Charlie rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "You know all that energy I was talking about?"

"Still gotta take care of that head, Charlie."

Charlie pushed up from the table. "I'm going to find a book for Amita before I forget it, then I'm done for the day." He looked at Don. "So you're back to work Monday?"

"How did you know?"

Charlie smiled. "Just don't forget our contract. 'Night, Don."

Don swallowed some more beer as he watched Charlie head for the solarium. "Night, Bro."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Charlie searched the shelves. He thought the book had a brown binding. Maybe it was in his room. No! There it was. He had grabbed the volume and turned to leave the solarium when he saw the picture, the one with the safe behind it. He stood and stared at it for a long time, long enough for Alan to find him, loosely holding the book.

"Charlie?"

He tore his eyes away from the picture. "I needed a book." He held up the evidence.

"You're all right, then?"

Don had wandered up behind his father, and they were both staring at him. He looked at the two of them, concern on their faces, and decided he couldn't tell them that he had remembered. Especially Don. It might make them both feel better to know that he had decided not to do it, at the last second, but it would also bring Don guilt. Charlie knew what guilt could do to a person. He was pretty sure Don had felt guilt already, but he hoped that staying at the house, helping Charlie, putting his own life on hold for the last month, he hoped all that had helped relieve him.

But he did know what guilt could do. He knew what hiding could do. He needed to find a way to make sure Don was all right.

"I…uh…I guess I was just thinking. I never apologized to you."

"Charlie," protested Don, "you don't need to apologize…"

Charlie held his brother's eyes. "If you had a root canal, it wouldn't be my fault, but I would still be sorry for your pain."

Alan's eyes filled, and he looked away briefly. "We appreciate that, Charlie. We understand that."

"Do you?" Charlie was still looking at Don. "Do you understand that it wasn't something you did, or didn't do?"

Don tried to break the stare, found that he couldn't. "I…you don't remember it all, Charlie…"

"I remember enough. I remember who you are. I remember that you would never hurt me. I remember what's important."

"Good," Don whispered, "good." He cleared his throat. "Let's add that to the contract. We'll both always remember what's important."