Ch 3 Casting Doubt

Mark leaned hard on the cane as he walked slowly out of the Center and over to a bench in the shade to wait for Hardcastle. It had been hard to hear the truth from John, but, he was glad to finally have some sort of time frame for his recovery. He hoped the judge wouldn't be too angry that it was taking so long, it wasn't like Mark could control it. He was doing everything they told him to do, so hard that they sometimes had to tell him to back off.

"No", he thought to himself, the judge would understand. He wasn't sure what he'd do if the judge didn't understand. Then he shook his head, Hardcastle had been amazing during this whole ordeal. From the minute he'd found him lying in that ravine, through his time in the hospital, and then bringing him into the main house after discharge, Mark had been the center of his attention. It had actually been a bit embarrassing at first, but gradually, over the weeks, Mark had gotten a bit used to it. No matter what the problem or obstacle, the judge had always been there to help.

He sighed and glanced around, appreciating the sound of the birds and the smell of the freshly mown grass. It was good to be alive.

"Hello McCormick, fancy running into you," the voice of Judge Gault still gave Mark the shivers after almost 3 years. He could never quite forget how hard Gault had tried to send him back to prison.

Mark looked up at him, "judge," he acknowledged.

"I heard about your accident," Gault answered.

" How would you hear about that?"

"It's general knowledge, in my circles. Where are you living now?"

"Same place as always," Mark answered in surprise.

"Really?" Gault seemed surprised as well, "I thought Milt had a one month rule? Well, that's what the word's always been."

"One month what?"

"If one of his ex cons needed more than a month to recover from an injury, that he'd cut him loose and find another ex con. It's not like they're hard to find." He paused, 'it's been longer than that since you got hurt though, hasn't it?"

Mark didn't answer him.

"Well, maybe he's decided to extend it. Anyway, I'll see you around McCormick," he finished and turned. As he walked away, a smile flickered on the ugly face. "You don't call me a cheater and get away with it," he whispered to himself.

Mark watched him go, a sinking feeling in his gut. He knew Hardcastle didn't even like Judge Gault, so how could he know anything about what Hardcastle was doing? On the other hand, they were both judges, and judges and ex-judges did have gatherings from time to time. He knew they had talked about him at least once, because Hardcastle had told him that he'd enjoyed rubbing their noses in his success. Maybe, back at the beginning, the judge had made some off-hand comment about a one month rule, but it couldn't still be true after everything they'd been through together, could it?

He knew in his logical brain, that Hardcastle wouldn't just 'cut him loose' for getting hurt, as Gault put it, but now that the idea had been voiced, he couldn't help a sliver of doubt from sinking into his gut. Sure, they were close, really close friends, but that didn't necessarily mean that Hardcastle would put up with a long recovery period in his home. And his parole was almost up too. Hardcastle wouldn't want to support him after his parole was up either, no matter how close they were. He was a grown man, and he should be able to take care of himself.

The internal argument continued, with Mark finally whispering to himself, "this is ridiculous. He's the best friend you could ever have, what Gault says doesn't matter, he's nothing to us. Less than nothing. If I can't work, the judge won't turn me out in the street."

He took a breath, feeling much better. Unfortunately however, it's very true that once a sliver of doubt is felt, no amount of logic will make it go away. Logic doesn't help. The doubt, however tiny, just sits in a corner of your mind and waits.