I don't own the characters and make no monetary profit from this story. Peter Gunn and Edie Hart own each other. My profit consists of the fun I have with them.
The passage quoted by Edie as she's reading is from "A Tale of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens.
A Lifetime in Eight Days
Chapter 17: A Light in the Darkness
The lighting in Peter Gunn's room was still muted but was enhanced by the elusive rays of a brilliant sun that had, at least for the time being, finally pushed the clouds and rain away. The window blinds had been turned slightly upward to direct the bright sunlight toward the ceiling but it still gave the room a warmth and a glow. It was late morning of Pete's third day at St. Francis Hospital. Edie Hart sat at his bedside on the same chair she'd been sitting on since he had been moved to the third floor. She held a book against one knee as she read to him, her other hand wrapped around his where it lay on top of the blanket. The book had been Dr. Carson's suggestion. Not this specific book. He had simply said that many medical professionals, including himself, felt that talking or reading to an unconscious patient might aid in the person's recovery. So she was reading to him and in the process was reading to Pop, who seemed to be enjoying it whether Pete himself could hear her or not.
"'Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, incapable of his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight on him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away.'" Edie paused in her reading, placed a scrap of paper as a bookmark at the end of that chapter of A Tale of Two Cities and closed the book and lay it on the bedside table. She picked up her cup of coffee that was also on the table and took a cold sip, her lips pursing at the acrid taste. She had forgotten the coffee was there and by now it was hours old. Silently setting the cup down she leaned forward to peer at Pete's face. He seemed to be sleeping comfortably, his eyelids moving every once in a while as though he might be dreaming. She wondered if he was, and if so what those dreams might be about. She slanted a similar look at Frank Gunn, seated in his hard chair at the foot of the bed. His eyes were half closed and he looked like he might be nodding off or even actually dozing. He'd had a long thirty-six hours and needed some rest but neither one of them had slept much at all during the night.
Please don't stop reading! The last time someone read to me when I was sick I was eight years old and had the mumps. Mom read "Huckleberry Finn" out loud. She sat on the bed with me and kept her arm around me. She was so warm and snugly. And Bobby Cooper was jealous that I got to stay home from school for a week and got to eat ice cream and had chicken noodle soup for supper instead of carrots and peas. He wanted to have the mumps too and asked me how I got them. I told him I didn't know, they were just there. I said maybe he should just pray for mumps and maybe God would listen and he'd get them too. He finally did get them when he was thirteen. I don't think he was happy about that. He didn't have as much fun with the mumps as I did. Maybe I need to pray. If I pray really hard maybe God will hear me and this will all be over. I should have thought of that before. But according to Pop it's never too late.
Edie brushed her thumb gently along Pete's hand where she held it against the covers, her fingers laced between his. His hand was warm to the touch, so much warmer than it had been yesterday. She just knew that had to be a good sign and Frank Gunn seemed to agree. He got up from his chair at the foot of the bed when she mentioned it, going to the other side to touch his son's hand. Yes, he nodded. So much of a difference from early this morning even. Dr. Carson stopped by and smiled when Edie told him. That's good, he said. If she could tell the difference that probably meant something.
You know that's one of my favorite books. Read to me some more. I need to hear your voice. Maybe I can tell you. If I can just get my lips to move I'll be able to get the words out. They might not be too loud, though. My mouth is dry and my throat stings and my tongue feels like it doesn't fit anymore and my lip really hurts where that big guy kept hitting me and splitting it open. But I'll try to say the words. If I can just get my lips apart and maybe wet them a little they'll start moving and they'll do what my brain wants them to do. They won't. They won't move no matter how hard I try. Maybe my brain isn't getting through to them. The way my head is swimming right now my brain might not be able to tell any part of me to do anything.
Mother and Emmett stopped by not too long after she put the book down, the woman bringing with her a change of clothes and some toiletry items for her girl singer. Edie took a quick shower in the room's bathroom while Mother and Emmett helped Frank keep watch over Pete. Just in case. She stepped out of the small room refreshed and smelling of Ivory soap and a shampoo that gave her hair an aroma that Pete once said reminded him of a walk through fields of lavender. Then Emmett drove Frank to Pete's place, much to Frank's displeasure but he went along to please Edie, so he could drop off his luggage that was still in the trunk of the car and take his own shower and put on fresh clothes and bring back a few things Pete might need when he woke up. Pajamas and underwear and slippers. There was no reason not to be optimistic. He and Emmett made it back within an hour and Edie and Frank were left alone with Pete again.
Why can't I open my eyes? The one thing I want to do, because you're the one thing I want to see, and I can't do it. My eyelids are so heavy I can't raise them. But they don't weigh anything! Why can't I just open my eyes and look at you? That's all I want to do. If I can see you I'll know you're safe. Are you okay? I'll try to open my eyes. I'll try real hard. It hurts too much. I can't. I'm sorry.
Miss Miles entered the room on the quiet soles of her prim white nurses shoes. Moving to the other side of Pete's bed she deftly lay her fingers at his wrist to check his pulse and then gently wrapped his arm with the blood pressure cuff. She jotted down both numbers on his chart and said that Dr. Carson would be by in a about an hour. There had been a bad accident and he'd been called to the emergency department and was a little behind schedule. But he'd be by as soon as they let him go. Picking up the two empty coffee cups she promised to be back shortly with more. Her glance fell on the book lying on the bedside table and she smiled but didn't say anything. When she returned with the coffee she was carrying a copy of Oliver Twist which she placed next to the other book.
I'll try something else. I can feel your hand in mine, your fingers between mine. I bet I can wiggle my fingers a little if I try real hard. If I concentrate on the warmth of your hand I'm sure I can give your hand a squeeze. Probably just a little squeeze but enough of one that you'll know I hear your voice. I feel your thumb rubbing on my hand, back and forth, back and forth. Do you know I can feel that? You need to know! I'll put all of my strength into it. Just. One. Little. Squeeze. Why won't my fingers work? Someone help me move my fingers! I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry they won't move. That I can't let you know that I'm here with you.
After taking a sip of fresh coffee and hoping her bladder could handle so much of it, and after asking Pop if he was ready for more of A Tale of Two Cities, Edie picked up the book and started reading the next chapter. Frank decided he could listen to her voice all day and all night if need be. He was almost lulled to sleep but not quite. He managed to keep himself just enough awake to hear the story and make sense of it. It had been years since he'd last read it himself, probably not since Pete had been a boy. He remembered it had been one of his son's favorites and said so to Edie when she'd come back from the hospital library with it. She said she knew and that was why she had picked it out.
Oh good! Please keep reading to me. If you stop he might come back. But maybe you're not really here. Maybe it's another one of his tricks. Like the music and the perfume. It's all just a game isn't it? A game designed to see how much Pete Gunn can take, to find out what makes him tick. Or you could be part of another dream. Like that other one I had. We were dancing. The standing up kind of dancing, not the lying down kind. If I could get those words out I know you'd smile. That smile I haven't seen in weeks and that I miss more than you can ever know. You'd tell me I was a nut. In the nicest possible kind of way. I could feel your hair in that dream and hear your voice and your laughter. It was just like you were there with me. But you weren't. I woke up and you were gone. I wondered whether I'd ever see you again. And then he said some things. Denner. He said he was going to pay you a visit. And as much as I tried I couldn't do anything, I couldn't move, I couldn't scream. I wanted to kill him. If I could have gotten my hands around his neck I would have strangled him. Gladly. For you.
Edie finished reading the chapter and closed the book and lay it on the bedside close to Pete's hand. A comfortable silence claimed the room for a while until it was eventually broken by Frank Gunn. He said that while he was at Pete's apartment he had placed a call to Lieutenant Jacoby. He had spoken with a very nice Sergeant Davis and was told Jacoby had been tied up with a murder investigation since the previous evening. Davis said his boss planned to get back by the hospital as soon as time permitted. He would personally make sure the Lieutenant was made aware of Frank Gunn's call. Frank asked Edie if she thought Jacoby was avoiding him. Or her. Maybe both of them. The woman just shrugged. Her fondness for Lieutenant Jacoby waxed and waned depending on the day and the circumstances. As without doubt did his for her. But he was Pete's friend so he was her friend.
Who else is here? Who's that other voice? Wait, let me hear it again. Pop? What are you doing here? How did you get here? You need to get out! Take Edie and run! You can't stay here in this dark wet basement with me. He'll be after you next. You need to save each other. Run! Forget about me! You're both more important than me. I can take care of myself. Don't worry. I'll be all right. I promise. But you won't run will you? You don't run from anything. You never have. My Pop. I knew you'd come for me. If nobody else in the world came looking for me you would. And you did. You came to save me. Those hoods won't know what hit them by the time Francis Patrick Gunn gets through with them. You know all about goons like them, right Pop? They'll be sorry they ever messed with Frank Gunn once you take care of them. You'll save Edie and you'll save me and we'll go home and everything will be fine again. Just like it was. Before.
It was actually about an hour and a half before Joe Carson made his way back to Pete's room. His eyes were red and his white coat was rumpled and he looked like he hadn't had much sleep but he was chipper and in a good mood and had a smile on his face. He took a look at his patient's chart and took his own set of vitals and listened to Pete's heart with his stethoscope and gently felt the back of his head. Then he pulled his little stool from the corner and sat down and began discussing Pete's condition with Edie and Frank and spoke of the marked improvement he saw from the previous night.
I don't recognize that voice. It's a gentle but gravelly voice and it sounds nice but that's probably just a ruse. He must be another one of Denner's goons. That one fellow hasn't been around. The wiry one who was built like a boxer. Hit like one too. Went for the kidneys and punched below the belt. A boxer who didn't play by the rules. This new guy with the gravelly voice must have taken the other fellow's place. Great. Now there are two helpmates again. The more the merrier to have some fun with good old Pete. But that's okay. The more fun they have with me the safer Edie and Pop will be. That's all that matters. Just leave them alone. Leave both of them alone.
Dr. Carson pulled the sheet and blanket back to examine the bruising on Pete's chest and abdomen. He palpated the area above his belly button and felt underneath him to inspect his kidney region and ran gentle fingers across his ribs and inspected the abrasions just below his collar bone. Neither Edie nor Frank looked away, having watched him do this several times before, their gazes both locked on the man they loved so much. The bed covers were pulled back up and the doctor took a look at the cuts and lacerations and bruises on Pete's face. Reaching into his coat pocket he brought out his small flashlight. Leaning forward he gently raised one eyelid to shine the light into Pete's eye.
That's it! I'm tired of the bright lights glaring into my eyes. Why don't you just leave me alone? That bare bulb on the ceiling was bad enough but this one is right in my eye! It's blinding me and I'm seeing spots and it hurts. It hurts so bad! I can't stand it. Get it away from me! It's making me nauseous again and I want to throw up. But I can't. There's nothing left inside me to vomit. And it really doesn't feel as bad as before. I can control it. But that light!
The doctor jerked back, startled as Pete's right hand slipped from the protection of the woman's, reaching up to grab the front of his shirt with a grip that belied his weakened state. He pushed ineffectively at the doctor's chest, his eyes opening just a crack, groggy and unfocused. Edie was up in a flash, quickly grasping Pete's hand with gentle fingers, astonished at his sudden movement, trying to protect both him and Dr. Carson as she attempted to pull his arm down without hurting him. She felt Pop beside her as he tried to loosen Pete's grip on Carson's shirt.
Edie spoke close to Pete's ear in as soothing a tone as she could muster, begging him to please stop, telling him it's just the doctor, he's trying to help you.
"Please, honey, just let go. Everything is all right. You're all right. I promise. Just let go."
Edie. My dear heart. You're with me. But why are you here? You can't be here in this place. It's too dangerous. That man who brought me here does bad things. He kills girls. He killed a girl six years ago. He can't have you. No, no, no! Not you! I'll kill him. I'll kill him with my bare hands if he does anything to you. If Denner lays a finger on you I'll blow his brains out. If he runs I'll find him. If I have to go to the ends of the earth I'll find him. I'll beat him to death with my bare hands. I'll empty my gun into him. Then I'll find another gun and do the same thing. And I'll keep doing it until there's nothing left of him and I know he can't hurt you. And then I'll do it all again.
"It's okay, he's not hurting me. It's just a reflex action on his part." Carson held himself steady as Edie continued to talk to Pete and his grip gradually loosened and he let go of the doctor's shirt, his fingers instead gripping Edie's hand. "He just doesn't like the light, that's all, whether consciously or subconsciously. It probably hurts his eyes." Carson tipped his head to get a better view of his patient's barely visible and unfocused gaze and spoke to him in a soothing voice. "I'm just going to take a look at your eyes, okay Pete? No bright lights at all. I promise."
Why don't you leave me alone? Stop poking at me. Stop touching me. Stop shining that light in my face. Okay, you can touch me. Edie. You're the only one. No one else. Except maybe Pop. He can touch me. But everybody else just needs to leave me alone. I hurt all over. I really hurt. My head hurts. My chest hurts. I guess that's good. I guess it means I'm still alive. But why does it hurt so much to be alive?
Pete's eyelashes fluttered and his breathing remained erratic for a few minutes before finally settling back into a regular gentle rhythm, his chest moving to each sequence as he inhaled and exhaled. His fingers clung to Edie's hand as she sat down again, Frank dragging his chair from the foot of the bed to to sit beside her as the doctor completed his examination. His eyes became hidden as he appeared to find sleep once more.
Read to me some more. Please. You can begin the next chapter can't you? I want to hear your voice. I need to hear your voice. There's nothing else like it in the world. It's music to my ears. Your music. Can you sing to me? I haven't heard you sing in so long. Just in my head. Only in my dreams. I did it, didn't I? Got my body to do what my brain was telling it to do. Crazy. That's what you would say, right? Maybe I can do it again. I'll give it the old college try. I'll concentrate on moving one finger at a time and see if I can squeeze your hand again. One. At. A. Time.
Edie gave Pete's hand an encouraging squeeze as she grabbed the book from the bedside, her eyes going to their interlaced fingers as she felt a slight pressure being returned. She turned her head to tell Pop but didn't get the words out. His gaze was on their hands and tears were gathering at the corners of his eyes as he reached out his own hand and placed it over theirs.
I did it! Did you feel that? I know you did because your hand tightened on mine. And I can feel Pop's hand. Did you see that Pop? I did it...