Author's Note: Hello, Readers. Thank you all for your prayers and kind words over the last couple of weeks. I'm home now and finding solace in my writing. I'll try to post again in a few days instead of waiting a week, but I can't promise it will happen.
My dad was an extraordinary man. I have faith that one day I will see him again in Heaven. Until then, he lives on in my heart and in my stories. Much of what I write for Roy's interaction with his kids is based on my interaction with my Daddy when I was a little girl. The final scene of this chapter comes directly from my fondest childhood memories. I wrote it with my Dad's old Peterson pipe sitting on my desk in its new place of honor.
TW: This chapter depicts an incident of self-harm.
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Sunday, 24 December 1972
"Roy?"
Roy turned to see Dr. Brackett at the door to Johnny's room. An older grey-headed man stood with him. Roy got up and stepped into the hallway. "He's sleeping." Johnny had been moved that morning from the ICU into a private room in a step-down unit, and the activity had tired him out. Roy didn't want to risk waking him.
"Roy, this is Dr. Hennessy, from the Bennett Center for Recovery. He's prepared to offer a spot at the Center to Johnny — he's explained their program to me, and I think they can really help him. Dwight, this is Roy DeSoto. He's listed as John's next of kin, so all decisions need to be cleared through him."
Dr. Hennessy offered his hand and Roy shook it. "Hello, Mr. DeSoto. I've read Mr. Gage's case notes, and I'd like to observe him for a few hours. If he chooses to come to the Bennett Center and if he's ready, we can move him over there as soon as tonight."
Roy narrowed his eyes. "If he chooses? Dr. Hennessy, he's not able to make choices like that right now. And tonight is Christmas Eve!"
"Mr. DeSoto, the first rule of treatment at the Center is that the patient must make the choice for admission. And time is of the essence. If he chooses to come, it's best he start the program immediately. I'll explain it to him when the time comes. But first, I want to see how he interacts with you and —" He checked the notepad in his hand. "Susanna Levin?"
"Soon to be Susanna DeSoto," said Roy.
The doctor's eyes homed in on Roy's wedding ring. "Oh, really?"
Roy shook his head. He wasn't sure he liked this Hennessy guy. "Adult adoption. She's going to be my sister. She and my mom are with a lawyer signing paperwork right now. She'll be back after lunch."
"Interesting. What made you decide to take such a step with a virtual stranger?"
Roy bit back the retort he wanted to make. What business is it of yours? After all, Brackett said this man could help Johnny and that's what they all wanted. It wouldn't be good to get on his bad side. He took in a deep breath, trying to put together a respectful but terse answer. "Susanna needs the love of a family. We've got plenty of that to offer. Besides, she helped save my best friend's life."
"Yes, yes." Hennessy nodded. "I read about that. Quite extraordinary, given the circumstances. All right then, I'll just sit in the corner out of Mr. Gage's line of sight and take notes. Forget I'm here." He strode into the room, grabbed a chair, and moved it to the far corner where he could see and not be seen.
"Umm, Doc," Roy growled. "Susanna's gonna need that chair when she gets back."
"Oh. Of course. I'll… um… go ask a nurse for another one." He brought the chair back and then stepped out the door.
Roy slumped back in his chair and reached for Johnny's hand. "Dang, Junior. I know I've said I can put up with just about anyone, but I'm not so sure about this fellow." He sighed. "But if he can help you, that's the important thing, right?" Just then, Hennessy returned.
Forgetting that the doctor was there, his notepad at the ready, wasn't easy. Roy could feel the man's eyes watching him as he sat with his friend. Once Johnny woke up from his nap, Roy struggled to act natural.
"Hey, Pal." Roy could see in John's eyes that he was more alert today, and for once he didn't wake up muttering. His gaze met Roy's for a moment, then settled on Susanna's empty chair. "She'll be back soon, Junior."
"Uh huh," said Johnny. "Soon." His hands meandered to his nasogastric tube. "Out!" he demanded. He sounded a lot like Chris when the little boy was in a petulant mood.
Roy grabbed the hands and gently pulled them down. "No, Junior," he said firmly. "You need that. It's just till you're ready to eat on your own. Give it a couple days, OK?"
His eyes got big. "I'll get real food?"
"Yeah. Eventually. For a while it'll just be soft stuff, but when you get outta here, I'm buyin' you a steak dinner."
"Steak?" Johnny leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes.
"Yeah, steak. Juicy, medium-rare, just the way you like it. Grilled in my backyard. And Jo'll bake up some potatoes to go with it. And green beans like your Aunt Taloa makes and those big flaky dinner rolls. It'll be delicious." He glanced over and saw the beginnings of a crooked grin on Johnny's lips. Was he remembering? Roy decided to continue painting the picture. "You'll push Chris on the swing set and carry Meggie on your shoulders. No one makes Meggie laugh like her Uncle Johnny. Oh, and we'll finally put up that little baby slide you got for her. We thought you'd want to see the first time she uses it. You really shouldn't spoil her rotten, you know, Junior?"
"My princess… deserves it."
That was enough to tell Roy that Johnny really was remembering. Those were the very words he'd used when he showed up at the DeSoto house with the slide in the back of his truck, a week before he was abducted. It wasn't even Meggie's birthday. Johnny just saw the thing and decided she needed it.
"Yeah, pal. You love the kid. I get it."
Johnny nodded. Then he pointed at the TV. "Be my neighbor."
Roy chuckled as he checked the time. "I could set my watch by you, pal. Show starts in about a minute." He turned on the television and tuned it to PBS. Soon, the chimes started playing the theme song. John's eyes were riveted to the screen. For the next half hour, he was silent as Mr. Rogers talked about liking his viewers exactly as they are.
Susanna returned just as Rogers was changing his shoes and bidding his viewers farewell. When she noticed Hennessy in the back corner, she opened her mouth to say something, but Roy put a finger to his lips and shook his head. "I'll explain later," he said, and she nodded.
Then she sat down and reached for Johnny's hand. "Hello," she said, smiling at him. "I'm glad to see you awake. I'm sorry I wasn't here, but I was having lunch with Mom and Dad."
She was taking the DeSoto name, but she was already calling Merritt Stirling Dad. Roy liked the man, but Danny DeSoto loomed large in his memory, the only dad he wanted. Maybe Susanna embraced the title so easily because she'd never had a positive father figure.
"I was afraid Dad would resent me," she said as she stroked Johnny's arm. "Not taking his name and all. But he said that family is more about love than sharing a name. And he would love me as a daughter whether I was a Levin or a DeSoto or a Stirling. Did you know he adopted four children? Four! On top of the two he and his first wife already had. Neither of his adopted sons took the name Stirling, and it's perfectly fine with him!" Her eyes danced, and it suddenly struck Roy that he had stopped noticing her scars. "He says if I get my GED, he'll help me go to college. When I was little, I wanted to become a teacher, but my uncle said I was too stupid. Maybe I can manage it after all."
"Susanna," Roy said, "you can do anything you set your mind to. You've got Mom and me and Marta and Merritt all backing you up. Johnny too. And probably those six new siblings and all those nieces and nephews we're getting in the bargain." He hadn't met any of Merritt's kids or grandkids yet, but Mom said they were supportive of their widowed patriarch's new marriage and looked forward to enlarging their family.
After a couple hours of observation, Dr. Hennessy approached Johnny's beside. "Hello, Mr. Gage. I'm Dr. Dwight Hennessy. I work at the Bennett Center for Recovery with men and women who have been in your situation. I would like to help you to reclaim your identity and get back to your old life. But the choice is yours." He looked around the room, his eyes settling first on Roy, then on Susanna, then going back to Johnny. "You can stay at Rampart and be moved to the psych ward, or you can come with me. I know it's incredibly difficult for you to imagine choosing anything right now. Hera took that power away from you. But I have a challenge for you, John Gage. Can you make this one choice to start the journey toward reclaiming your life?"
Johnny's eyes went to Susanna, then to Roy, then back to Susanna. Roy could practically see the wheels turning in his partner's head. Finally, John pointed a long finger at Hennessy. "You can make me better?"
Dr. Hennessy smiled. "Mr. Gage, I'll do my darnedest, but the real work will be yours. You have to choose recovery and put in the effort to achieve it. If you do, I'll walk alongside you the whole way."
John nodded slowly. Roy wasn't convinced he was ready for a decision like this, but he bit his tongue.
Susanna, however, started to speak her mind. "Johnny, you should…"
Roy put a hand on her back and shook his head. Hard as it was, it had to be John's choice. She nodded slightly and fell silent.
John thought for a moment longer, his eyes drifting to Roy's and Susanna's several times before fastening on Hennessy again. "I'll go. I wanna get better. Don't wanna be a … a freak."
Susanna leaned over him and wrapped a hand around his. "Shh," she soothed. "You aren't a freak, Johnny. You aren't." Her other hand smoothed the hair from his forehead. "You are a good, kind man."
A slow smile spread across John's face as he basked in Susanna's praise.
Dr. Hennessy cleared his throat. "Very well, Mr. Gage. We're ready to transport you to the Bennett Center as soon as Dr. Brackett signs your transfer paperwork. And now, Miss Levin? Mr. DeSoto? Could I speak with you both in the corridor for a moment?"
"Sure." Susanna kissed Johnny's knuckles. "I'll be right back." Then she walked out to the hall with Roy and Hennessy. "What is it, Doctor?"
"I've read Mr. Gage's file. I understand, Miss Levin —"
Susanna cut him off. "Miss DeSoto. Or at least, it will be after the hearing next week." She grasped Roy's hand. He gave her hand a squeeze. Hennessy's dark gaze was not encouraging.
"All right then, Miss DeSoto. I understand that you were involved with Mr. Gage's escape from the cult."
She nodded. "Yes. We had to escape. They would have killed us both."
"Yes, that's what I've read in his chart. You did a wonderful thing for him, Miss DeSoto. I want to offer you the Center's services as well. You are a victim of Hera as much as he is, though I think you'll be better served on an outpatient basis. But right now, I'm thinking about Mr. Gage. Based on my observations, he is far too dependent on you and your approval. He needs to rebuild his identity separately from you."
As she looked up at the doctor and she was squeezing Roy's hand so hard it hurt. "What are you asking, Dr. Hennessy?"
Roy was starting to fume. Maybe Hennessy did have Brackett's backing, but this was too much. "Yeah, what are you asking?"
Hennessy's gaze turned to Roy's. "I want the same thing from both of you. He's too dependent on you too, Mr. DeSoto. I saw how he looked to you both for guidance on what he should choose. He has to regain the ability to make his own decisions, and he can't do that as long as the two of you are hovering over —"
"Hovering!" Roy was on the verge of his own Gage-style rant, but Hennessy put a hand on his arm.
"Mr. DeSoto, the kindest thing you could do for your friend right now is to back off and give him space. In many ways, the treatment he received in Hera's cult has pushed Mr. Gage into a childlike state. We call it age regression, and it's a normal response to extreme trauma, a coping mechanism. His treatment in the cult robbed him of the ability to cope as a mature adult. I want to help him regain that ability. But the two of you patting on him and treating him like a child will not help him. In fact, you might push him so far into that state that he can't come out. That's why you need to go back in there, tell him you'll see him later, and then leave. I'll let you know when he's ready for a visit from one or both of you."
"Leave him?" Susanna's eyes filled up with tears.
Roy pulled her into a hug. This was going to be as hard on her as it was on Johnny. "Doc, it's not fair. We're just trying to help him."
"You're right, Mr. DeSoto. None of this is fair." He sighed and his tone softened. "Listen, I appreciate that you want to support him. As firemen, you have to depend on one another. But that's a healthy dependence between adults. What Mr. Gage is exhibiting is unhealthy and will impede his recovery. He's my patient now. Please trust that I have his best interests at heart. He cannot regain his confidence if he's depending on the pair of you to guide him every step of the way and make choices for him. A clean break will be the least painful, so go ahead and say your goodbyes." He pulled a card from his wallet and pressed it into Susanna's hand. "Call my office to set up an appointment if you want to proceed. I promise that I will do my best for both you and Mr. Gage. Mr. DeSoto, I understand that you are Mr. Gage's next of kin and you have to sign off on this transfer while he's considered non compos mentis. I urge you to respect his choice and let him go."
Roy was speechless for a moment. He wanted to hate Dr. Hennessy. He wanted to refuse to go along with him. But he couldn't argue the point. They had been coddling Johnny, hovering over him and treating him like a child. For a while, Roy had been afraid the regression was caused by brain injury, but all the tests for that were negative. This was psychological, not physical. They needed to listen to Dr. Hennessy. As much as it hurt, they had to break John's dependence on them. He finally nodded. "OK," he said. "I'll sign for it. We'll do as you say." Susanna blinked as she pocketed the card. Together, she and Roy walked back into Johnny's room.
Roy wiped the emotion from his face. He leaned over his friend's bed and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "Hey, Junior. I'm sorry, but, uh… Susanna and I hafta go for now. We'll see you later, though. Dr. Hennessy's gonna take good care of you."
Then he stepped back and made room for Susanna. She clasped Johnny's hand and Roy wasn't sure she would ever let go. Johnny seemed to suspect something was up because he clung to her. Roy worried that if she got emotional, it would just make things harder.
Susanna lifted his hand to her mouth and brushed her lips across his knuckles. A tear crept out of one eye and tracked its way down her cheek. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I don't want to go, but I —" She glanced towards the door where Hennessy waited. "I have to. But I'll be back. I promise. As soon as you're ready."
Johnny stared up at her, and his face crumpled like Megan's did whenever she was about to start bawling. Big tears pooled in his eyes. "Don't leave me," he pleaded. "Please. Don't go."
"We'll be back, Junior." Roy reached down and forcefully broke John's grasp on Susanna's hand, then led her towards the door. He hated this. It went against everything he believed as a fireman. You didn't leave a man behind. Johnny had to feel betrayed, but this was a battle he had to fight for himself.
"Hey," Roy said softly as he pulled Susanna into another hug. She pressed her face against his shoulder and wept. "Everything's gonna be OK. Johnny's gonna be OK. This is temporary." She nodded.
"You love him, don't you?"
"Yes." She was still sobbing. Roy had suspected her feelings all along, but they hadn't talked about it yet. "What if when he gets better, he doesn't want me? What if he rejects me because I remind him of Hera?"
Roy pulled back a little and lifted her chin so she was looking into his eyes. "Listen to me, little sister. I know Johnny better than anyone. That's not the kind of thing he would do. But right now, you both need to heal. Like Dr. Hennessy said, you're a victim too. When you're both healthy, then you can see where your friendship goes. You can't build a good relationship on the shaky foundation you've got right now. It will be better and stronger for waiting."
She gave him a brisk nod, but he was pretty sure her heart wasn't in it.
"Come on," he said, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "JoAnne and the kids will be thrilled to have us both home for supper." Jo had gotten the guest room all set up for Susanna a few days ago, but she hadn't stayed in it yet. Roy rattled the car keys in his pants pocket. Doc Brackett had finally signed off on letting him drive again, and Cap had dropped off his convertible after getting off shift this morning. He couldn't wait.
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Monday, 25 December 1972
Mike awoke just before the six-thirty alarm sounded throughout the Center. Breakfast would come soon. His stomach growled. He got up and took himself to the restroom. Might as well get ready before breakfast arrived at seven. He took a quick shower and pulled on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt that said "Bennett Center" in big maroon letters on the front.
Over the last few days, he'd fallen into a routine. At mealtimes, he stayed in his room. He would nod his thanks to the orderly for bringing his meals. Once he was alone with his tray, he would drink the milk. Then he would savor the aroma of the food for just a few seconds before flushing every last bite down the toilet.
Eventually, they would figure out what he was doing. Less than a week into his treatment program, Mike's weight had already dropped several pounds. Probably, they would put him back on a nasogastric tube. He wouldn't mind. It was better than he deserved. Even enjoying the smell of his food made him feel guilty. Guilt seemed to be the only emotion he felt these days. Well, that and fear.
In between meals, he was kept distracted from hunger. Dr. Hennessy met with him daily at eight and at four. Otherwise, mornings and afternoons were spent with his therapy group. At nine, they all went to the greenhouse for gardening. Jake said working with the soil would lift Mike's spirits, but that hadn't happened yet. The rest of the group went from the greenhouse to the stables for horseback riding, but the first time he tried to step into the stables, Mike had a panic attack. After that, Jake had him stay at the greenhouse for an extra hour of gardening until lunchtime. "You've got time to work up to the stables," he said.
For a couple of hours after lunch, Mike's group met for discussion, led by Jake. Mike kept his notepad and pencil handy, as he still found it hard to get words out with anyone but the doctor. After the group session, the men had free time either in the quad or the gym, depending on the weather. The other guys would try to pull Mike into a ballgame, but Mike didn't have much energy and preferred to sit on the sidelines, observing. He kept his eyes open, hoping for a sight of Johnny. He was afraid that his friend hadn't made it and no one was willing to tell him.
After dinner, they might watch a movie or they could check out books from the library and go back to their rooms for some alone time. The hour before bedtime was for reflection. Mike was supposed to write in his journal during this time. He would hand Dr. Hennessy the slim volume every morning and get it back after their afternoon session.
He craved the alone time and yet he hated it. He didn't feel comfortable with the other men in his group. Activity helped keep Hera's voice at bay, but sharing his feelings with strangers didn't appeal to him. And as soon as he was alone she started talking in his head again.
A knock sounded at the door. "You gotta open it for me this time, Mike!" Jake's voice.
Mike obliged and Jake stepped inside. Today he was wearing a Santa hat and his arms were full. "Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!" he said as he set the bounty on the table. Mike hadn't even realized what today was. "Doc H. says routine's important, so we'll follow the usual schedule, but everyone gets treats today. Take a look at the tags. There's some special stuff in there. Are you coming to the dining hall for breakfast with the group?"
With a shake of his head, Mike declined. He was about to write his usual question on his notepad, but Jake beat him to the punch.
"Hey, I've got news for you," he said as he recorded Mike's vitals. "Your friend John Gage is at the Center now. He was admitted yesterday. He's on the north campus, in the infirmary. I guess he had surgery for a broken cheekbone, and they want to keep an eye on him while he's healing. But he's here. He won't be in my group, though. Doc H. assigned him to Brian."
Mike frowned. Jake's group and Brian's never intersected, not even at mealtimes. He scrawled a note on the pad. I gotta see him.
Jake shook his head. "Sorry, pal. His visitors have to be approved by Doc H., and you're not on the list. Talk with him about it."
The orderly pounded on the door, then stepped inside with Mike's tray and placed it on the table next to the pile of gifts.
"Eat your breakfast," Jake said. "I'll see you at the greenhouse after your session with the Doc."
Mike nodded. Inside, his blood was starting to boil, but he wasn't going to let Jake see it. They couldn't keep him from Johnny! He wouldn't let them! When Jake was gone, he paced the floor for a few minutes, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He tried tamping down his anger, imagined himself stamping out the sparks before they could ignite into a raging fire that would burn down everything in its path. But it was too late. The fire was loose inside him, and he couldn't snuff it out. His whole body was growing hot with it until he felt like he was about to explode. Suddenly, his arms swung wide, sweeping the food tray and the pile of presents to the floor. Oatmeal splattered the walls and a sausage rolled under the bed. He didn't care. He wasn't going to eat them anyway. But the sound of something shattering made his heart skip a beat.
A gift-wrapped box lay smashed on the floor. The tag said, From Beth. His childhood Christmas stocking had fallen out. Mike went to his knees, grabbed it up, and reached inside. Something jagged tore at his hand, but he didn't care. He pulled out the contents of the stocking, a framed picture of his Beth, a letter, and a cassette tape. The picture had been damaged by the broken glass and the frame was broken. He held it to his chest and began to sob. "I'm sorry, Bethy. I'm so sorry. I don't deserve you. I never did. I'll always love you, though. Always."
A sudden urge gripped him. Hera's voice in his head prompted it. He closed his eyes, covered his ears, tried desperately to shut her up and push her out, but he couldn't do it. He could hardly breathe, and the fire inside was still consuming him. Finally, he gave in. Resistance was impossible. He reached into the stocking and grabbed out a shard of the glass frame. Then he pulled up his left sleeve and scratched the word LOSER into his arm in big, red letters. Suddenly he could breathe again. The pain worked as a sort of release, like opening a pressure valve. He felt all the heat in his body escaping through the letters. He pulled up his other sleeve and transferred the glass to his left hand. On this arm he scratched the same word that had been tattooed on his chest, but in English letters. HERA'S. Best to admit it. Dr. Hennessy could say what he pleased, but Mike had finally accepted that he could never be free. Mike Stoker was gone. He was the Bone Man and that's all he could ever be.
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Dwight Hennessy waited ten minutes for Mike to show up for his morning session. When he didn't come, the doctor called Jake. "Have you seen Mr. Stoker? He didn't show up this morning."
"I checked in on him at about seven," Jake said. "Took his vitals. Delivered his Christmas presents. He's been asking me every day about his friend John Gage, so I let him know that Mr. Gage had been admitted and was in the infirmary, but his visitors had to be approved by you. He didn't take it very well. He was trying to hide it, but I could see he was plenty mad. I told him he needed to talk with you about it."
Hennessy sighed. "All right, thank you. I'll go check on him." He shoved a batch of papers into the top drawer of his desk, then headed for Mike's room. After knocking, he pushed the door open.
He found Mike on the floor, clutching a photo of his wife. It was scratched up and stained with blood that seemed to have come from Mike's hands. Hennessy pushed up his patient's sleeves. It wasn't the first time he'd seen this sort of reaction. At least he hadn't cut very deep. The wounds should heal without permanent scarring, as long as Mike was prevented from doing it again.
He fetched a washcloth from the bathroom, wet it down, and then returned and sat next to Mike and began cleaning the blood from his arms and hands. "What happened, Mr. Stoker?"
Weeping, Mike held the photo to his chest. "I hurt Bethy. I ruin everything I touch. You should just send me back to the Farm. It's where I belong."
Hennessy laid a hand on Mike's shoulder. "I can't do that, Mike. Hera's in prison. The Farm's been shut down." He eased the photo out of his patient's grip. "This is only a picture, you know. We can get another one. The only way you could hurt Beth is by not working to get better. Come on. I'm taking you to the infirmary to get these wounds treated. Then we'll figure out what to do next."
He helped Mike to his feet, taking note of how he was trembling. The man didn't need the long walk over to the north campus, so Hennessy guided him to the bed. "Sit here for a moment. I'll send an orderly for a wheelchair." A moment after he punched the call button, Sam Towson popped his head in the door. "Sam, bring us a chair please."
Mike sat with his shoulders slumped, his chin almost to his chest. Hennessy settled on the bed next to him and placed a hand on his back. "I hope you'll choose to trust me, Mike. I believe you can get home to your family and go back to your old life. Maybe it won't be exactly the same as the old life, but it can be just as good or even better. It will be what you make of it."
His patient nodded silently but wouldn't meet his eyes. Sam returned with the wheelchair and Hennessy got Mike ready to go.
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Johnny trembled. He had awakened this morning in a strange place among strange people. It seemed to be another hospital, though his room here had curtains instead of walls. He tried to remember how he got here, but he couldn't. All he knew was Susanna and Roy weren't with him. He was alone and he didn't know what to do. A tube was running into his nose and that scared him. Had Hera gotten hold of him again? Was he back at the Farm? He reached for the tube and started tugging on it, but stopped when a snatch of something Roy had said came into his head.
It's OK, Junior. It's just till you're able to eat on your own. He heard it in Roy's soothing paramedic voice. "He's gonna get me a steak dinner," he murmured. "When I get outta here. Nice an' juicy. I'll see Susanna an' Roy an' Jo an' Chris an' Princess Meggie Moo and I won't be a freak anymore and everything will be good again. Gotta do what the doc says and make it happen."
Out of the corner of one eye, he saw a familiar figure moving past his room. He was sitting in a wheelchair, pushed by a tall skinny man that Johnny also recognized, though he couldn't remember his name. He gathered all his energy and called out the first man's name as loud as he could. "Mikey!"
The man in the chair looked up and then put his feet on the floor so the tall skinny guy couldn't push him anymore. Then he lumbered to his feet and through the curtains into Johnny's room. "John! You are here."
Mike's hand was bleeding. And he had blood on his shirt sleeves. That worried Johnny. He pushed Mike's sleeves up and frowned at what he saw there. "No, Mike," he said. "Isn't true."
He wrapped his arms around his friend's neck and pulled him into a hug. "Hera's lies. Don't believe it, Mike. You gotta beat this." Mike started crying and Johnny patted his head. "We gotta beat this. Together."
"Together," Mike echoed, and he gripped Johnny's arm. "You're right, pal. We will beat it."
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Dr. Hennessy watched his patients from the hallway and reconsidered his decision to keep them separated from one another during treatment. They clearly needed each other. He pushed the wheelchair into the small curtained-off cubicle. "Have a seat, Mr. Stoker, before you dislodge his IV. Stay here with Mr. Gage and I'll fetch Dr. Corrigan to tend your arms."
About fifteen minutes later, Mike's wounds had been cleaned, salved, and bandaged. He was still sitting with John while the two doctors talked in the hallway.
"Mr. Stoker is dangerously underweight," Corrigan said in his lilting brogue. "I want to keep him here a few days, to make sure he's getting the nourishment he needs."
Hennessy nodded and sighed. "I think that's a good idea. Can he have the cubicle next to Mr. Gage's? Perhaps open up the curtain between them? I think they'll be good for each other."
Corrigan nodded. "Excellent idea. It looks to me like they are already helping each other heal."
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Though he was still worried about Johnny, Roy was glad to be home with his family on Christmas Day. The kids had opened all their presents and Meggie was down for a mid-morning nap. Jo and Mom were busy in the kitchen, and Roy was downstairs in his den, a fire burning on the hearth, setting Chris' favorite record on the turntable. Gus Pup was stretched out by the Christmas tree with a rawhide bone, and Chris was waiting eagerly to climb in his daddy's lap. Roy's old, patched chair was their favorite place to spend time together. They would listen to music or Roy would read to his son, or sometimes they would just talk.
As Peter, Paul, and Mary launched into their song, "Marvelous Toy," Roy lowered himself into his black leather recliner and tamped down the tobacco in his old Peterson pipe. Chris watched, eyes wide, as his daddy lit a match and touched it to the tobacco, then drew in that first breath of smoke. He let Chris blow out the match, then patted on his lap for the boy to scramble up and snuggle in for some Daddy time. Roy took the pipe out of his mouth for a second to give the little fellow a kiss on the head. "I sure do love you, Chris DeSoto."
"An' I love you, Daddy." Chris reached up and patted on Roy's cheeks, then settled in with an ear against his chest, right where he always said he could best hear the thump thump thump of his Daddy's heart. He let out a contented sigh. "This is the best Christmas ever, isn't it?"
Roy thought for a moment before answering. John and Mike were safe and getting treatment. Roy was pretty much back to his old self. And he was home with the family that had loved him through all the difficulties of the last few months. Was it the best Christmas ever? "Yes, Son. It certainly is."