Many of you have asked me where my other stories are located, so, for those of you who don't know my sad little story, they are under my original LissaB account on this site. It would be nice to have them all together, but that does not seem to be possible.

PENNSYLVANIA

Scylla and Charybdis

(Part 7)

It seemed like a long time before the peripheral sounds began to filter back. Ben raised his face from Adam's slowly, his back straightening. He cradled the curly head in one hand and caressed the round cheek gently with his thumb, reality twisting at his heart. His loved one was all right – unhurt. He was very lucky. But others – so many others – were not as lucky. Adam blinked contentedly at him, offering the book again. Ben didn't feel as though he could manage to separate from his boy again, but he knew he had to. Other people needed him. It was the least – the very least – he could do to show his gratitude for Adam's life. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Adam – " he cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the residue of smoke and tears. "Adam, I am so happy to see you, but I – there are some people who need Papa's help. People in trouble. I need you to go with Miss Lillibelle for a little bit while I help them. All right?"

Adam's face changed, his dark brows lowering ominously. "Doh," he growled flatly.

Ben sighed. He knew just how he felt. "I know, Adam, but it will only be for a while and there are people in trouble – we must always make time to help people in trouble."

Adam scowled, his lower lip creeping out. "Go 'way," he accused darkly.

Ben raised his brows. For a second he thought Adam was telling him to go away, then understanding dawned, and he groaned inwardly. What had he done? How would he ever be able to make Adam understand? "No, Adam," he said quietly. "I am not going away. I'll be right here." Adam watched him with an expression that Ben had never seen on his face before – a shadow of doubt and fear. Ben thought his heart would break. "I promise you, Adam," he insisted, and, when Adam looked unconvinced, "Perhaps…" he glanced pleadingly at Lillibelle. "Perhaps Miss Lillibelle will take you a little ways up the slope, out of the way, and sit with you where you can watch? Then when you look down, you'll be able to see where I am all the time. How would that be?" Adam's face wavered, and Ben pressed his advantage. "Maybe…" he gave a quick look at the ragged mess of cloth that Adam was still holding onto, "…maybe, if you're a very good boy, Miss Lillibelle will even read your book to you while you wait for me?" and, in response to Lillibelle's look of panic, "It's only pictures. He'd just as soon tell you about them, given the chance."

Adam looked from Ben to Lillibelle, unsure. "Adam – " he cupped the small head carefully but firmly and looked directly into his eyes. "I promise you. I'm not going anywhere. I promise. Now, let Miss Lillibelle look after you for a bit for me?" Adam ducked his head. Ben smiled. "That's my good boy." Lillibelle held out her arms, and for a second Ben didn't think he'd be able to let go – but he satisfied himself by closing his eyes and pressing a kiss at Adam's hairline. Thank you, God. Thank you. Thank you. When he opened his eyes again, Adam allowed himself to be lifted into Lillibelle's arms, his gaze still fixed on Ben. Ben gave him an encouraging smile. "I promise, Adam." Adam wrinkled his forehead at him, slipping his three fingers into his mouth. Ben winced and started to say something, stopped himself. With everything else he'd survived today, probably sucking on filthy dirty fingers wouldn't kill him.

"Don't worry, Ben," Lillibelle winked at him. "We'll be fine. Now, there, Sport – " she tilted her head at Adam. "You gonna read me this book o' yers or what?"

Ben watched them make their way up the slope, part of him tugging after them in panic, wanting to run and catch up, to reassure himself that they weren't an apparition after all. Over his shoulder he became aware of the sounds of new voices approaching – help from the mines, probably – and he turned to greet them.

He tried to block Adam out of his mind and focus on them – on the people who needed his help. He kept his mind a blank and functioned mechanically, following the orders of the assistant foreman, sorting through the tools they had brought and selecting some, helping to find shoring timbers to prop up the clinic so they could check the interior for the doctor or medical supplies. He was moving like a zombie, but he knew he was more effective this way – obedient, with his feelings severed and set aside. Cut off. Or so he thought.

They had shored up the clinic, and two of the men were cautiously testing the door when he found his eyes turning automatically to the slope, trying to see where Lillibelle and Adam might have settled themselves. His heart jumped when he saw them right away – Lillibelle seated on the ground with Adam on her skirt between her legs and the book open in front of them, Adam with his fingers in his mouth, for once oblivious to the book as he stared at the remains of the town below him, wearing that serious, intent expression of his. Ben smiled before he could stop himself and lifted his hand in greeting. Adam saw him immediately and jumped to his feet and grinned at him, flapping his hand vigorously in return.

Ben chuckled - he swore he could even make out the dimples from here - returning to his work with a lighter heart. He helped steady one side of the clinic, musing absently that he would really have to ask Lillibelle what would be the right age to break Adam of sucking those fingers.

BBB

Ben leaned back in the rocker and let out a deep sigh. The old willow chair groaned under him, creaking ominously, but it held. It was dark now - in the smoke and coal smudged sky he could just make out a few faint stars. The house behind him was silent except for the barely audible stir of busy women, a sliver of light from the kitchen brightened the porch. Adam sat on the weathered floor of the porch a few feet away, carrying on a voluble conversation with himself while building something with his blocks. Ben couldn't follow a word he was saying, but it eased his heart some to hear him anyway. His fingers wandered automatically to his front pocket before he remembered he hadn't been able to afford tobacco for months. Too bad. He could really do with a smoke. He watched Adam with the blocks for a moment before sighing again, rubbing a hand through his thick hair. Those blocks.

Someone had found his carpetbag at the damaged tavern - Barney had recognized it as his and saw that it was returned to him. It was good to have back his few scant possessions - the music box, the copy of "Paradise Lost", the teething ring Adam had inherited from the Stoddards, their small stock of clothing that he had forgotten to give to Barbara anyway…but he had felt horribly guilty receiving them in light of the people who had lost everything today. He had had Adam returned to him - surely that was enough.

Unable to bear it any longer, he rose from the rocker and lifted Adam from his place on the floor. Adam objected to being dragged away from his work with a yelp, but philosophically made a grab for the discarded book instead as Ben hefted him into his arms and sat down again, settling him on his lap. What a day. What a horrible, memorable day.

Most of Fernley lay in ruins - the population decimated. Dr. Chesterfield had been discovered inside the listing clinic, unconscious, but able to stagger into action once he came round and understood what had happened. He had worked tirelessly, paling only slightly when Ben had broken the news to him about Barbara. Ben closed his eyes at the memory. What an awful day.

The clinic was doing duty as a hospital for the injured - the owner's house was serving as a morgue for the dead - at least, what dead could be recovered. So many were already claimed by the ground. When it grew dark and all their lanterns combined could no longer illuminate things enough for them to continue the rescue efforts, they had finally lain down their tools and tried to see what they could do for those who remained living. Whatever buildings were found to still be sound would serve as shelter - any kitchens still intact served what little food they had and what pallets could be found held the walking wounded and children for the night - three and four to a pallet. Those who, like himself, were relatively well and whole made do as they could - when one woman had apologetically offered him the use of her rocker and porch with its tiny band of roof in case of rain so that Adam could be sure of some sort of bed, he had accepted gratefully. He would rather be out here anyway - away from the packed crowds of shocked and grieving, away from the broken women quietly trying to prepare their dead. Here, alone and in the open, he almost felt as if he could breathe again.

He ran a hand over Adam's head, felt his callused fingers snag in the silky curls. It had been a lot of work, but they had hauled enough water to manage some sort of clean up for everyone. Lillibelle had scrubbed up Adam before he had even been able to drag himself to the washing station at the pump house to help. Now she was helping the other women clean up the corpses. A good woman. Elizabeth would have approved of her, too. He surprised himself with the thought, squinted at the few stars he could see.

Now, why was that? Elizabeth was a well-bred and upright New England girl, while Lillibelle…well. But Lillibelle had grit, and Elizabeth would have admired that - had had plenty of her own. He smiled faintly. He had, perhaps, been a little guilty of sanitizing Elizabeth since her death - turning her into a person she had never been. He needed to watch that. He remembered Elizabeth warning him once that he "couldn't put her in a box - that she wasn't that sort of woman." Indeed. He needed to remember. He pulled Adam more firmly back against him. But I suspect, little one, that you will play a big part in refreshing my memory on some of your mother's less saintly characteristics as we go forward. That made him think of something else and he closed his eyes again.

Going forward. How was he to go forward now? He had made a choice - a torturous choice, but one that he had truly felt was in Adam's best interests. And he had nearly lost him as a result. Now, even if he knew of someone besides Barbara that he could trust to take Adam back to Boston he didn't think he could muster the will to let him go again. What if something else should happen to him while he was so far away? What if letting go of him meant never seeing him again? His exhausted heart reeled within him, and the ready tears that had dogged him all day sprang, once again, to his eyes. "I don't know what to do," he whispered. "I don't know what to do."

Adam blinked up at him from the book he was trying to scrutinize in the dim light, and Ben fought hard to smile at him. Adam seemed to take it for encouragement and pointed to the stained picture before him. "Buhd," he said hopefully.

Ben didn't answer, just tightened his grip on him. Oh, Elizabeth…I want so much to do right by our son - to be a good father. I want to be able to make any sacrifice that will make his life better. But…he must have tightened his grip a little too much, because Adam gave a squeak, and he loosened his hold hastily. Adam eyed him curiously in the dusky light, then turned back to his book. Ben leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes tight shut. But. I don't think I can do it again. I just don't think I can. It almost killed me the first time and then I almost lost him today and I don't know…I don't think…I know it sounds selfish. I don't mean to be selfish. I just don't think I'm strong enough or brave enough to let our little boy go again. I can't let him go. Please, please - show me what to do. Oh, Elizabeth, if only you'd lived…there wouldn't be any decision to make then…we'd be a family…he saw Adam look up at him again and realized that he was crying in earnest now, tears coursing down his unshaven cheeks. He tried to stop - he didn't want to frighten Adam - but the physical and emotional trials of the last few days had taken their toll, and he had no resources left to fight the tears. Adam patted his forearm awkwardly with one hand, and Ben reached over and enveloped the small hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and kissing it fiercely. He still clung to it as he wrapped his arm around Adam's chest and rubbed a cheek against his hair. Please, show me what to do. I don't know what to do…

Ben woke with a start. He blinked at the darkness, unable to estimate how much time had passed. He felt a prickle of panic - where was Adam? Woke enough to notice that he was still comfortably ensconced in his lap, the book forgotten for now while he sucked quietly on his fingers. Ben settled back with a gasp of relief. He noticed Adam's other hand was still in his and adjusted his grip, running his thumb gently over the tiny fingers. He had some sense that he had been dreaming, but he couldn't bring any images or specific memories of the dream to mind. Still. He felt…different, somehow. Better. His heart more at rest. He pushed the rocker softly into motion, thinking.

"You know, " he said conversationally after a minute, "I don't know what I'm doing. I've never been a father before. I'll probably make a lot of mistakes. You'll have to be patient with me." Mindlessly, he counted the fingers in his grasp…one, two, three, four…and a little thumb…the rocker continued its sawing motion gently beneath them. "And if we do it this way…there's so much that I can't promise you. I can't be sure how we'll eat - where we'll sleep all the time. It will be a bit of an experiment, and I suspect that it won't always be pleasant. I CAN promise you that I'll always do my best by you, Adam - that what you need will always come first and foremost. That I can promise with all my heart. I just can't be sure about the rest. But then, maybe nobody can be, really, given what life is. Maybe we just like to fool ourselves about that. After all - look at today." He wrapped his fist completely over the hand in his, sheltering it within his own. "But…" This felt so good somehow - all logic, all good sense aside. So right. "But I do think…I think there's something to be said - for a father and son being together."

Adam tilted his head back to look at him, his eyes gleaming faintly golden in the minimal light. Ben rumbled a small laugh deep in his chest. "What are you trying to tell me - that you knew that all along?"

Despite the warmth of the night he cuddled Adam close, his tattered heart suddenly at peace. He had never been a man to play it safe. Foolish to think that he could change his nature now. He rocked for a few moments in silence, enjoying the closeness with his son.

"So," he said lightly at last, "You walked all the way from the Chesterfields' to the tavern today to find me? That was a very long way for you to come all on your own." And very unsafe. He must put an end to that.

He had a hundred lectures assembled in his head - a hundred sensible explanations marshaled as to why Adam must never, ever try anything like that again. They were important, and he opened his mouth to deliver them.

For the life of him he could never figure out why the only words that came out were, "Good boy. Good boy."

BBB

Ben frowned at the misty rain obscuring his view of the harbor, surprised to find the memory as sharp and fresh and vivid as if it had just happened. He frowned harder when he realized that more than the rain was obscuring his vision, made an angry dash at his eyes. How on edge he was - exhausted - just as he had been way back then.

He turned to apologize to Mrs. Chambers, then raised his eyebrows and fumbled for his handkerchief instead. "Here - take mine." She accepted the handkerchief gratefully, and he studied her face with some concern. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, blowing her nose daintily.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to upset you. A horribly long story, too - "

She shook her head vigorously. "No. No, I'm glad you told me." She dabbed at her nose. "What happened to the people of Fernley?"

"They stayed, believe it or not - tried to rebuild further up the slope. Couldn't even think about moving on, I guess - said it was home."

"Did they succeed?"

Ben was silent for a moment, then he shrugged. "I don't know. I moved on. Couldn't understand what they were thinking." He frowned. "I do now, maybe. A little." He peered harder through the curtain of rain. "Is that our boat docking?"

Mrs. Chambers glanced at the quaint timepiece behind the counter. "Perhaps. But it will still be some hours before it sets sail. They'll have to take on wood, I suppose, and restock supplies."

Ben nodded resignedly. "Then perhaps we should track down your husband. We have time for a real meal before it leaves port." He offered her his arm.

She took it, glanced at him hesitantly. "Ben - I think - "

Ben waited.

She tightened her grip on his arm for a moment. "You did the right thing. I know it. You did."

Ben's smile softened some and he sighed. "You're very kind, Katherine," he said, replacing his hat with polite resignation. "Very kind."

TBC