PENNSYLVANIA

Scylla and Charybdis

(Part 5)

Ben did think about it - all the way back up the slope to the tavern whose windows flickered with only a fraction of their usual brightness. He thought about everything Barbara had said and everything Lillibelle had said and about how small and white and defenseless Adam had looked on the doctor's table. He thought about what he had been trying to push out of his mind ever since the doctor found that chunk of glass - how easily it could have been elsewhere…Adam's eye or his chest or his forehead. He hissed as if hurt and wrapped his arms more tightly around the blanketed bundle, as if crushing Adam close would somehow make him a part of himself and keep him safe from everything forever. If only it were that simple. He reached the door to the tavern and paused, half wishing he never had to go inside again. But their small bag of possessions was in there, and shelter for the night and his pay for the week, and it was foolish to blame a building for what had happened. After a moment, he lifted the latch and entered.

Lillibelle was sweeping up the last of the glass and smashed crockery and broken chair legs. She stopped and leaned on the broom, watching as he entered and glanced around.

Everyone else seemed to have gone to bed. The tables had been righted, the broken chairs piled in one corner to be repaired or turned into kindling, and the last of the debris was in a heap in front of Lillibelle's broom. It was remarkable how quickly a semblance of order had been restored, but then, he reminded himself, this probably wasn't the first time for them.

Lillibelle studied him. "Chair?" she said at last. "I think that one there's pretty much still whole."

Ben suddenly found his knees shaking under him. He dropped into the chair with more speed than grace. "I'm - sorry," he said at last. "To have run off like that without helping. I - had to - I had - " He thought for one, awful, humiliating moment that he might cry, so he closed his mouth abruptly and bit down on his lip, hard.

"Don't matter," answered Lillibelle easily. "We managed. Gonna tell me why?"

Ben lowered his eyes and cleared his throat. "Adam was - um - injured. He was - bleeding - quite badly. I didn't - I…"

Lillibelle nodded casually. If she noticed he was unraveling then she gave no sign. "Figgered it was somethin' like that. He doin' okay? Doc fix him up?"

"Yes…" He cleared his throat again and tried to speak with more authority. "The doctor - um - took stitches. He seems - he seems to have stopped…"

"Well, that's fine." Lillibelle swept her pile of rubbish into the dustbin and plunked it outside the door. "Need anything for him?"

Ben tried to thaw his frozen brain enough to remember the doctor's recommendations. "Um…liquids? Water and milk and broth…"

"I'm pretty sure we got somethin' like that around here." She glanced at the woolly wrapping that hid Adam but didn't come any closer. "I could probably leave some broth on the back of the stove for the night. That way you could just fetch it as you need it."

Ben felt those annoying tears pricking at his eyes again. "Thank you," he said hoarsely.

"Oh, well, it ain't like it's a lot of trouble." She put the broom back in its corner and wiped her hands on her skirt. "I'll go get it started. You put him down. Looks like a little lay-down wouldn't hurt you any either."

Ben nodded vaguely, but she had already left. He forced himself heavily to his feet, glanced up the seemingly insurmountable stairs. Adam stirred, and Ben hugged him even closer to his chest, closing his eyes for a moment. The hurt and fear of loss swirled through him. He lifted a foot and began the long, lonely climb to their attic room.

What had he been thinking? Why had this seemed to make sense to him?

Each step seemed to reproach him, to mock him with his failings. Barbara had said that Adam belonged somewhere safe and consistent and clean and stable - steady meals, the same bed every night, the same faces every day.

He bent to enter the low attic door and set Adam down on the pallet. Even now, it took all his strength to wrench him out of his arms, and he stayed kneeling on the floor beside him, stroking his cheek with his thumb. Adam lifted his lashes and looked at him. His eyes seemed a little unfocused - the way they did right after he woke from a nap - and Ben smiled at him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly. "Any better? You know, Adam, you were a very brave soldier. Papa's very proud of you."

Adam blinked at him for a moment. Then he smiled.

Ben tucked the flimsy blanket over the wool one the doctor had lent them and bent to kiss him good night. His scalp felt hot and moist now. He hoped it wasn't a bad sign. Adam was asleep before he could even tell him good night.

He sat for a long time with his hand resting on Adam's chest, feeling it rise and fall steadily under his palm.

No, Dr. Chesterfield, he thought tiredly, Barbara probably isn't right all of the time.

But she probably isn't wrong all of the time, either.

BBB

"Hold still, now…Adam! I said hold still."

Adam paused his squirming and looked at Ben. "Itzs," he explained plaintively, wrinkling his nose.

"It - ? Oh. Yes, well, that's the stitches. The doctor will take them out in a week or so, and then it won't itch any more." Ben set the soiled bandage aside and reached for the salve.

"Down?"

"Not this minute. Let me finish my work here. You know how this goes, Adam - just sit still and it will be over much faster." Ben rubbed the oily salve carefully into the cut.

Adam jumped a little. "Ow."

"Yes, I know it stings." Ben studied the stitched gash closely. The cut looked a little red and swollen, but not too bad. Adam was healing quickly. Ben wished that he could do the same.

He had been determined to stay upstairs and look after Adam the whole day after the accident, money or no, but except for his scheduled administrations of broth or milk, Adam had slept heavily, and as Lillibelle had pointed out, he could watch him sleep as easily behind the bar as he could up here.

He had reluctantly admitted that this made sense and created a makeshift bed out of an empty crate and some blankets and tucked Adam into it behind the bar. He had looked at it for a while, and then added a low table over it as a sort of roof. Now, he thought, if any stray glasses or mugs came Adam's way he would have some protection.

An hour later it occurred to him that the small lamp burning behind the bar could easily start a fire if left untended, and he moved the alcohol and rags away from it and placed a glass of water handy - just in case. It was another two hours before he noticed how sharp the breeze was that blew in every time the door opened. Well, he couldn't keep that closed - patrons had to come and go - but he took his jacket and tucked it over Adam and his blanket. By halfway through the evening he was exhausted - jumping at every sound, trying to anticipate every possible threat to Adam's well being. He looked around the bar with new eyes. Why hadn't he noticed before how dangerous it was? Drunken men, rolling and flying bottles and tankards and shot glasses - there were a dozen different things that could hurt his son. A terrible place to keep a child. That night he sat up again by Adam - thinking.

But the morning had brought him no further clarity - nor had the next. This was the day he had planned to leave - payday - but now he wasn't so sure. He didn't want Adam too far away from a doctor when time came for the stitches to come out, and the thought of trying to take them out himself turned his knees to water. So maybe they should stay - just a little while longer.

He felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down at the upturned face. "Yes, son?"

"Huhts," Adam offered timidly.

"Hm?" Ben looked at the bandage. Well, no wonder, with his mind wandering he'd tied it too tight - it was a miracle if the arm was getting any circulation at all. He untied the knot and tried again. "Better?"

Adam nodded. "Down?"

Ben hesitated. "Adam - what would you think of playing up here tonight while Papa works?"

Adam's brows drew together. "Down," he insisted.

"You could have fun up here. You have your blocks…" He had found the blocks sitting on the bar the morning after the brawl, washed clean of blood. Lillibelle, most likely. He needed to thank her.

"'Nano," Adam pleaded.

"Yes, well, I know - but I'm not sure you should be bothering Barney anyway…" he frowned a little, picturing the long lengths of stairs in his mind's eye and Adam suddenly deciding to navigate them on his own while Ben worked below, unknowing. "All right," he agreed reluctantly. "I suppose it's for the best. But you stay close to Papa, you understand?"

Adam nodded cheerfully and hopped from the low trunk to the floor.

Ben stood hastily. "Adam, you wait for me!"

Adam gave him a puzzled look, but leaned against the door to wait.

Ben tidied up his medicines, carefully returning the remaining bandages to the muslin bag and counting them, calculating how many he had left until he needed to make another trip to the doctor. A couple of days. Yes, they should probably stay until Adam's stitches came out - no point in taking chances. He straightened, dusting off his knees. "Now…" Adam deftly worked the latch and slipped out the door. "ADAM!" Ben was across the small room in one stride, very nearly cracking his head on the low ceiling. He fixed Adam with a stern look. "I told you to wait for me."

Adam twisted his hands in the bib of his overalls. "'Nano," he offered in a small voice.

"Well, no piano if you don't obey me. Now, what's our rule for going down the stairs?" Adam meekly lifted up his hand. "Much better. Good boy. Now, we never run on the stairs - we take our time…" Ben took his hand and stepped down the first step. Adam followed with his shorter stride.

Despite the stern tone of the words, deep inside Ben wondered if there was really any better feeling in the world than having your child's hand wrapped in your own.

BBB

The mood in the tavern these days was one of increasing surliness and barely suppressed rage. The miners would enter after a long day, shaking off the coal dust and glowering at each other, muttering dark phrases. Ben kept a rifle behind the bar now, and Barney one next to the piano. It seemed a better reason than ever to get out of here just as soon as Adam had his stitches out - Ben couldn't even think about what it might mean if gun play started in this tight box of a room. He had lost interest in trying to determine what the discontent and disagreement was about - he just wanted to shake the coal dust of Fernley from his feet and be on his way to Ohio. A little voice inside whispered to him that he had no reason to suppose that things would be any better or safer in Ohio. The little voice sounded suspiciously like Barbara Chesterfield. He pushed it down ruthlessly.

Ohio would be better. He'd have a clearer idea what to expect. He'd stick to the cities - travel by river, maybe - he'd heard about the Ohio River. And he felt at home on the water. All he really needed was to find better work - be a little bit ahead financially - to make up some of the money it had cost to settle Mrs. Callahan comfortably on her trip to Philadelphia. Not that he begrudged her a penny - it just took a long time to regain ground, that was all. He smiled grimly. The miners' complaint exactly. He was so distracted by his plans that he hardly noticed last call, or the last of the stragglers being good-naturedly shooed out the door by Lillibelle. He scooped up the final payments from the counter, figuring it absent-mindedly in his brain. Good. Not much to clean up tonight - he could put Adam to bed and grab some sleep himself. He glanced down to see if Adam had dozed off yet. No, he was sitting in front of his blocks, lethargically moving them around. Ben knelt down to get a better look. "Tired, hm? I told you to take it easy - that cut is going to leave you tired for a while to come."

Adam scrubbed at his eyes and blinked at him. "Itsz," he mumbled.

"What itches? Your arm?"

Adam nodded.

"Well, let's take a look…" Ben lifted him onto his knee and frowned. He looked at him more closely and touched a hand to his face. "Well, you're very warm - have you been playing hard?"

Adam shook his head. To Ben's surprise, he sagged against him and closed his eyes.

"Hm," Ben picked at the knot in the bandage. He felt a funny frisson tickle his spine. "How about your teeth? Are they bothering you?" Please, let it be your teeth…

Adam shook his head without opening his eyes. The knot gave way under Ben's fingers, and he unwound the bandage carefully. He could see the discolored matter staining the cloth before he even got to the gash. He stared at the cut for a few minutes, trying to rally his welter of feelings. After a second, he carefully rewrapped the arm and gave Adam a little squeeze. "I'll tell you what," he said carefully. "Before we head up to bed, how about we a pay a little visit to your friend Dr. Chesterfield?"

BBB

"Don't look so guilty, Ben – it's not that bad and it was almost unavoidable, really. That coal dust is pervasive – just ask the women trying to keep their houses clean."

Ben frowned, looking not at all comforted. Adam eyed Dr. Chesterfield dubiously, then turned questioning eyes to Ben. Ben patted his knee. "What do you need to do?"

Dr. Chesterfield smiled reassuringly at Adam and stood to rummage through a cabinet with row upon row of drawers. "I'll lance it and drain the stuff out – give you something to soak it with. Should clear up in a couple of days."

Ben's frown deepened and he lowered his voice. "Lance it. You mean – cut him?"

Dr. Chesterfield found what he wanted and unrolled a towel on a small table nearby. "That's right."

"But – " Ben glanced at Adam, then back at the doctor, appalled. "He's – just a baby!"

Adam ceased his intent study of his feet at the unusual tone in his father's voice and cocked his head at him. Ben mustered what he hoped was a comforting smile. From Adam's curious stare he deduced it wasn't very convincing.

"Better out than in, Ben. Can you hold him still and distract him for me? There's some books and toys and things in that cupboard over there."

Ben hesitated, then rose reluctantly and went to the cupboard. He chose a new cloth book and handed it to Adam, watching the doctor almost as uneasily as Adam was.

Dr. Chesterfield glanced at him as he arranged his materials. "You know, Ben," he said casually, "If you're scared, then he will be, too."

Ben shrugged apologetically. He tried to swallow down the roiling in his stomach and sat down on the table next to Adam and pulled him onto his lap. Adam leaned gratefully into him, his eyes dropping half-closed. Ben helped him turn a page, brushing against his hot little hand. He wished it were even a little cooler. "Look, Adam – " he hoped he sounded more normal than he felt. "What's this here?"

Adam blinked drowsily at the picture and tucked his fingers into his mouth. "S'eeps," he mumbled around them.

"Er – yes, but that's sheep, not sheeps."

Adam opened his eyes a little further and used his free hand to point to first one sheep and then another and another.

Ben nodded. "I know it doesn't sound like it makes sense, but we say sheep for one or for many sheep."

Adam looked at him as if he was trying to decide whether or not he was making it up, then pointed experimentally at the next page. "Pig?"

"That's right – that's a pig. And together, we say pigs."

Adam frowned, concentrating hard on the pages. "S'eep?"

"That's right."

"Pig?"

"Um-hm."

"Pigs?"

"Yes."

"S'eeps?"

"No, it's sheep."

Adam took his fingers out of his mouth as if to ask another question about this curious phenomenon, then let out a yelp of surprise. He turned to gaze reproachfully at Dr. Chesterfield. Dr. Chesterfield dodged his look and kept his grip on Adam's left arm, setting aside the sharp knife to push on the wound, squeezing out the poison. Adam's startled yelp rose to a roar.

He kicked and squirmed against Ben's grip, the book dropping from his hands to flop, unheeded, to the floor. Ben caught one glimpse of his face and closed his own eyes and hung on, trying to keep him as still as possible, murmuring a steady cadence of mindless platitudes in Adam's ear, hoping to be heard over his wails of distress and wishing he could close his ears as well as his eyes to block out that sound that was wringing his heart raw.

Dr. Chesterfield continued calmly, inspecting his work thoroughly and callously finishing with a scrub of a solution of something or other that made Adam quiver in Ben's arms. Adam's cries lost heart and gave way to a ragged sobbing, his face buried in Ben's shirt. Ben rested his forehead on the top of the hot, damp scalp and wished that it would just be over.

"There you are," Ben glanced up as Dr. Chesterfield deftly tied a fresh, white bandage over the wound. He peered at both of them. "We'll finish off with a little whiskey and water, I think."

Ben straightened his sagging spine at that and bristled. "Whiskey! Is this some sort of frontier medicine? Why is it that everyone keeps trying to dose my son with whiskey?"

Dr. Chesterfield's eyes twinkled discreetly from behind his spectacles. "The water was for Adam, Ben. I was thinking of the whiskey for you. You look like you could use a shot."

Ben swallowed, reddening. "Oh. I – I – I – "

Dr. Chesterfield chuckled. "Yes, I know. Coming right up."

Ben rocked Adam as he waited for the doctor to return. Adam wasn't crying any longer, but his breath stuttered in shuddering gasps that made Ben want to cry himself.

Dr. Chesterfield came back with a shot of whiskey in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He handed the whiskey to Ben and touched Adam's shoulder to offer him the water. Adam shook his hand off and buried his face deeper in Ben's shirt.

Ben tried to peel him away from his chest. "Adam, Adam," he chided gently. "Dr. Chesterfield is only trying to help you."

"Doh," came the muffled voice from the folds of his shirt.

Ben threw back his whiskey and put the glass down. His eyes widened for a minute as the liquid exploded throughout his chest, then he took Adam by the shoulders and tried to position him to get a look at his face. Adam ducked his head. Ben shot Dr. Chesterfield a weak smile. "He gets - stubborn, sometimes…Adam, I want you to have a drink of water for me. Come on - you're hot - you must be thirsty."

Dr. Chesterfield perched on the edge of the table and looked amused. "Well, I can't say that I blame him. Every time I come near him, he gets manhandled. There's a little hartshorn in the water - I don't like to dose much when they're that size, but I thought a little bit might help you both sleep. You both look like you could use it."

Ben reached for the glass, trying to lift Adam's chin with his other hand. "You do, too. Sorry to get you out of bed."

"Ah, well. If I'd wanted to keep regular hours I would have chosen another profession." He watched as Ben managed to maneuver the glass to Adam's mouth. Adam peeped at him over the brim with wet and tragic eyes. Dr. Chesterfield smiled. "What do you think, Adam? Think you can forgive me?"

Adam swallowed water. "Doh," he mumbled crossly, turning his face back into the refuge of Ben's shirt.

Dr. Chesterfield chuckled, but Ben frowned. "Now, Adam - that's no way to behave. Thank the doctor for helping you." Adam shook his head obstinately, keeping his face hidden. Ben sighed. "He'll probably be a little more grateful tomorrow…drink a little more water for me, then…"

"Don't worry about it. I'm going to give you a poultice to put on it - should draw out anything I didn't get. Doesn't look like it had gotten much of a hold - good thing you didn't wait to bring him in. Sometimes by the time I see these things they've been subjected to all manner of home remedies that do more harm than good and have all but putrefied. Keep it as clean as you can. If it gets worse, come back and we'll lance it again."

"Again!" Ben almost lost his grip on the glass he was putting aside. Adam stirred at the sound, but his lids were drooping. Ben lowered his voice. "You mean we might have to go through this again?"

Dr. Chesterfield shrugged. "Coal dust didn't disappear, Ben. It's still in the air."

Ben set down the glass and glanced at Adam, all but asleep now, his good hand tightly entwined in the front of Ben's shirt. He draped an arm protectively over him.

"It's in the air here," he answered grimly. "Here."

BBB

Ben heard the straw that stuffed the pallet squeak under him as he turned over for the third time. His back ached with tiredness, but sleep seemed far away. Adam, on the other hand, slept soundly next to him, twisted into a fetal position as though protecting himself against further attacks. Ben smiled a little and rubbed him lightly between the shoulder blades, his brain fussing at the tangled knot of his thoughts.

How his life had changed.

When Elizabeth had died he had thought that his life was completely thrown out of kilter, altered forever - and it had been. What he hadn't realized at the time was how much having Adam had changed his life, too.

During Elizabeth's pregnancy he had looked forward to fatherhood in a vague, theoretical sort of way - had had some indistinct visions of Elizabeth bringing him a neatly dressed little boy (for Elizabeth had been insistent that it was a boy) to kiss good night, of teaching the child some things, perhaps, while the he sat decorously still - extolling him, maybe, with stories about the sea. In his imagination, it had all been very tidy and remote and manageable - a pleasant addition to a happy life. The reality was shockingly different. Much more complicated. More frightening. More daunting. He moved a little closer to Adam and stretched out behind him. More…wonderful.

There was a difference between being a father to some imaginary child and being a father to Adam - his child - a separate being with heart and feelings and personality and ideas of his own. He chuckled in the dark. Very definite ideas of his own. If what he was like at two was any indication, then God help them both as he got older. He curled a hand protectively over Adam's abdomen.

Yes, fatherhood had changed everything. What he should do. How he should do it. What really mattered. It had honed things, in a way, to utter simplicity: Adam mattered. Everything else was secondary. What was best for him was what was important. Now, if only he could be sure what that was.

Adam frowned in his sleep and made a small noise, and Ben slid the hand up to rest it on his head instead. Adam settled back into sleep. Ben dropped his own head back to the pallet and sighed through his nose. He was kidding himself, of course. Traveling as he was placed his child in harm's way - vulnerable to the elements, accidents, hunger - to the fickle hand of chance. What he hadn't understood when he'd left Boston was now far too clear for comfort: deciding to take on the hardships of the journey himself was one thing - deciding to let Adam take them on was quite another. Did he even have a right to do that? If a safer alternative existed, didn't he have a responsibility to take it?

He ran his hand over Adam's hair, trying not to think about what that would mean. Then he spotted the bandage, like a bright white flag in the darkness, and his heart twisted within him.

It could have been so much worse. He had been lucky - he had been given another chance. He pushed himself onto his elbow and tried to feel lucky. He studied what he could see of Adam's face in the gloom, memorizing it - fixing it in his mind. It had only been part of his life for two years, and yet he couldn't imagine a day without that face.

He sat up slowly. He didn't have to decide this minute. Tomorrow was Tuesday - Barbara wouldn't be leaving until the following morning. He could write a note, just in case…have it ready. Henry had pen and paper downstairs…he wouldn't mind if he borrowed them. He would check his funds - maybe ask around - see if anyone knew anything about Ohio. Then he would choose. He would decide.

Careful not to disturb Adam, he slipped out from under the blanket. Something scuttled across his foot in the dark, and he jumped, swearing softly but potently. Hopping on one foot, he grabbed a handy boot and smashed it against the floor. Adam stirred and turned over, but didn't wake. Ben brought the boot down two more times, quietly but decisively, tracking the tiny movements across the floor in the dusky room and putting a period to them. He stood a moment, staring at the crushed remains, then straightened slowly. He'd ask Lillibelle for more kerosene. He glanced over at Adam and rubbed wearily at a painful spot between his brows. Good God. Suddenly heavy hearted, he made his way down the creaking staircase.

Henry's desk sat in an alcove just off the stairs, bright in a shaft of moonlight from a nearby window. Ben found a neat stack of writing paper and a well-sharpened pen and uncapped the ink well. He stared at the paper, as if writing on it would bind him to something irrevocably. His mind drifted unbidden to his son's cries of pain in the doctor's office, the cold, rain-sodden trail, the scant provisions, the dead vermin upstairs on the bedroom floor. The painful spot between his eyes grew more intense, and he dropped his head into his hands and rubbed it again, vigorously.

Then slowly, he picked up the pen and began to write, Dear Captain…

BBB

The next day passed like a dream for Ben - everything seemed momentous and far away at the same time. He went through the motions of his plan deliberately and efficiently, barely noting what he did as he did it. He counted his money. Asked someone to talk to MacNamara for him. Sent a note round to Barbara. Folded and sealed his letter to Abel. He felt as though he were sealing off something else - his future, maybe. Once again his life was going to change.

He watched Adam as though he had never seen him before, trying to store every gesture, every expression, for the days ahead. Adam had woken surprisingly bright with only the slightest hint of a temperature, but he had soon become quiet and pensive, his spirits damped by his father's unusual mood. Ben would look up to find him watching him with that serious, intent expression of his. He reached out automatically to touch his forehead. "Are you feeling all right, son? Arm hurting you?" Adam had answered with a shrug. Ben wondered briefly where he had learned that.

By the time night came they were both tired and quiet, the atmosphere like a small grey cloud that hovered over both of them. Ben thought Adam's cut still looked clean when he wrapped it for the night, but he put a little hartshorn in his water anyway to help him sleep. He barely even admitted to himself why - he simply sat by the pallet, stroking Adam's hair wordlessly and trying to keep his mind a blank. A cold, jagged rock seemed to be lodged in the middle of his chest.

When Adam appeared to be deeply settled into sleep, he lifted him gently into his arms, trying to manage a deep breath around the rock. Adam turned his face as he sometimes did so that it was hidden in Ben's shirt, and Ben smiled slightly, despite the pain in his chest.

It's going to be all right, Adam, I promise…he thought silently. You'll love Boston - there's so much for you to see there. Lots of huge buildings, just like you build with your blocks, more books than you can imagine. Streets full of people, all kinds of pianos…other instruments, too. Just wait until you see. He ducked out of the attic and started down the dimly lit stairs. And your grandfather. Your grandfather will just love you, Adam. He'll find some nice woman to take care of you - the way you should be taken care of. The way you deserve to be taken care of. He shifted Adam to one arm so that he could unlatch the tavern door. Adam stirred, curling a hand in Ben's shirt but not waking. Ben held him tighter for a moment, trying to breathe. And while you're seeing Boston, I'll be building a home for us. I'm going to find some land and build it just as fast as I can - very fast, I promise. And then I'll send for you, or come back for you - either way, we'll be together again - just as soon as I can give you a home. A real home, not some battered old tavern along the trail. It won't be long, Adam, I promise…I'm going to build us a home so fast…and then we'll be together again. In the meantime, you'll be growing tall and strong…

He reached the door to the Chesterfields and knocked. The door swung inward nearly immediately. Barbara stood there with the lantern light spilling out from behind her. She opened her mouth, but something in Ben's face must have silenced her, for she closed it again and simply held out her arms instead. For a moment Ben balked…what on earth was he doing? Then he clenched his teeth and held out two envelopes.

Barbara glanced at them, hesitated. "Oh, Ben," she whispered, "I don't need your money…" Ben continued to proffer them silently, and after a minute she acquiesced. She gazed at the envelopes, then back at his face. "I'll send word as soon as we get there…"

Ben nodded.

She held out her arms.

Ben stared at her, suddenly torn. He looked back down at Adam, warm and heavy against his chest, and for a second he was sure he couldn't go through with it. Not even for Adam's sake. Not for anything. Barbara reached to take Adam, and Ben had a wild thought of clutching Adam tightly and running away - far and fast. He stroked the dark head again, trying to remember all the reasons why this was the right thing - the only thing - to do. He let Barbara lift Adam from him, leaving his arms suddenly light and empty. Adam's hand remained entangled in his shirt, and he used his fingers to pry it, very gently, loose, then dropped his vacant arms to his sides. Barbara opened her mouth to say something again, but Ben turned his back and walked away. He would not look. He would not see. He could survive this thing if only he didn't have to see.

He heard the door shut behind him, snuffing the small light cast by the lantern, leaving the night suddenly dark and cold. He closed his eyes for a second then started his way back up the slope, still not thinking, still not daring to feel. He was almost back at the tavern before he noticed the words, like a small prayer, that had been running over and over inside his head ever since that door had shut behind him…he leaned against the tavern for a moment and whispered them aloud.

"Please, Captain…take care of my boy."

TBC