Chapter 11

While Charlie was in the shower late that afternoon, Don called Alan. He told his father only that Charlie needed him, and asked him to cut his visit with Aunt Ida short.

After he picked Alan up at the airport the next day, he stopped at the first restaurant he found, and watched his father pale while he listened to the story.

"Charlie only told us a little of this, yesterday, when we found him in the mountains. Director Merrick took his statement himself yesterday afternoon. I got the rest of the details from his report this morning."

Alan rubbed a hand over his face. "My God. Where is he? Is he alone?"

Don shook his head. "I stayed at the house last night. He went to work this morning."

Alan raised an eyebrow. "He what?"

Don shrugged. "I couldn't stop him. He said it was bad enough that he missed one day of finals. I called Larry, after he left, asked him to keep an eye on him …"

"He's not hurt? Physically?"

Don shrugged again. "He's not shot or anything, if that's what you mean. But he's a mess, Dad. Exhausted. Shocky. I'm pretty sure he's getting a cold from being in the water … there's been some coughing and sneezing."

"I'll make soup. Stop at the store on the way home, will you?" Alan suddenly teared up, scaring Don half to death. "He killed someone? Charlie?"

Don reached across the table to touch Alan's hand. "Merrick says it's clearly self-defense. There won't be any consequences."

Alan snorted. "Maybe not legally. But how will he ever learn to live with what he's done? He's not like you, Donnie."

He saw the look that crossed Don's face and clutched madly at the fingers that were drawing away. "Don't, don't, I said that badly. I don't mean to imply that you in some way enjoy that aspect of your job. I'm sorry …"

Don offered a tiny smile. "It's okay. I know what you mean. We just have to keep reassuring him that he did nothing wrong in defending himself, and Colby. That we don't think of him as some sort of monster, now."

Alan sighed. "How can we do that, without words? I know your brother. He's not going to talk about this."

Don sighed too. "I don't know. We can't push him. Besides … besides Addison, there's Colby. He wouldn't leave him at all until after they got him off the mountain. When they put him in … when they closed the door of … of the hearse, he made a sort of strangled cry and went down like a ton of bricks. Passed clean out."

One of the tears escaped. Alan brushed at it almost angrily. "I don't think I can wait until tonight to see him."

Don cleared his throat, unsure how to say the next part. "He doesn't know I called you, Dad. After I did, he actually asked me not to … I changed the subject. I think he needs you." He smiled a little. "And I know you'd never let me hear the end of it if I let you stay away for another week." His smile faded. "But he's really fragile, Dad. You've got to try not to smother him."

Alan almost whined. "But you said he's getting a cold! I always make your grandmother's chicken soup when you boys get sick … oy, Donnie. How can I not smother him?"

Don tried to reassure him. "It's okay to make soup, Dad. Just don't pour it down his throat." Alan sighed again, and Don tried to lighten the mood a little.

"Maybe … maybe you could skip the green Jell-O."

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Larry hesitated in the doorway of the office. Classes had been over for hours, but Charlie had refused to leave after his last final, saying he needed to grade yesterday's. The stack of blue books on his desk didn't look as if they had been touched.

"Charles, let me give you a ride home. You can leave your car in the faculty lot this weekend. I'll pick you up Monday."

Charlie started, sneezed, looked at Larry and wondered at the darkness of the office. Where had the afternoon gone? "I …" He looked around for his keys, suddenly too tired to care where they were. Even if he found them, he didn't think he could stay awake long enough to drive home. He hadn't slept since his nap beside the stream, and weariness leeched out of his bones, making his limbs heavy.

Larry stepped a little further into the office. "Do you want to take the finals home? Perhaps you should just rest this weekend. It will all be here Monday."

Charlie looked at his desk, then back at Larry. "I don't have a backpack. I threw it away."

He looked forlorn, as if he were telling Larry that he had thrown away something much more important.

"It's all right. As I said, just leave it all here this weekend. I'm certain I have an extra book bag at home; I'll bring it for you Monday."

Charlie nodded, sneezed again. He didn't have anything else to say as he allowed Larry to lead him to his car and drive him home.

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Don had stayed at the house that afternoon when he brought Alan home, and he looked up from the newspaper when he heard Larry's car in the driveway. He slowly rose from the couch and went to the window.

He saw Charlie crawl out of Larry's car, and heard the kitchen door slam. He saw his father hurrying across the driveway, still drying his hands on a towel. Don wasn't really surprised that Alan couldn't even wait for Charlie to come into the house.

The towel dropped to the ground as Alan gathered his youngest son to him. Despite Don's warning, he couldn't seem to stop himself, and held Charlie tightly, loathe to let go. "It's all right," he kept whispering into Charlie's ear, trying to make them all believe it.

From the window, Don could see that Charlie's own arms hung limply at his sides. He was making no attempt to return his father's embrace.

This would have worried Don more than it did, if he hadn't seen Charlie lean his head into Alan's shoulder. If he hadn't seen Charlie's own shoulders relax, just a little. If he hadn't seen Larry's smile, as he watched the two of them.

If he hadn't known himself how much of a difference a father's love could make.