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.
Thanks to Melchy for a few good words and thoughts delivered following the previous chapter. Large oaks from tiny acorns grow. It's the same with ideas when you're stuck and looking for an angle from which to write.
A Lifetime in Eight Days
Chapter 22: The Emotions in the Memories
Peter Gunn couldn't shake the feeling that washed over him the very moment Lieutenant Jacoby walked into the room. If asked he would have found it difficult to describe, but it was almost as though he was suffocating. Almost as if someone had pulled a plastic bag down over his head and slowly siphoned out the air, leaving him gasping for breath and for something else he couldn't define. Something hiding at the back of his mind, lurking like those glowing green monsters that had invaded his dreams when he was a little kid, sending him running through the open doorway of his bedroom, through the monsters themselves, and down the hall to the hallowed safety of the bed where Mom and Pop lay sleeping. It had been a long time since the memories of those nightmares had clawed their way into his consciousness, years upon years, but suddenly there they were again. And he wished he was back in that big bed from all those years ago, huddled beneath the blankets, secure in the embrace of the two people in the world who loved him most.
Jacoby was talking, his soft voice the only distinct sound in the room. If there were any background noises Pete didn't hear them. The policeman sat forward in his chair, fingers gripping his hat and deftly tipping and turning it as he spoke, his eyes moving between it and Pete's face. Jacoby didn't get nervous, he didn't fidget like the PI did, but on this particular September afternoon he was getting awfully close to that point. Pete eyed him curiously, not really listening as the cop seemed to drone on, his own mind elsewhere. For some reason he was unable to rid himself of those monstrous visitors in the night that had crept back into his head.
He had met them again. Recently. Somehow he knew that. It was part of that something hiding at the back of his mind. He had tried running through those same monsters again but this time it didn't work. He never reached that haven of comfort, never felt the safety of those loving arms wrapped around him, hugging him, calming his fears, wiping away tears. This time those monsters were stronger than he was and he was wasn't able to slip through. This time they caught hold of him. They grabbed him and they wouldn't let go. And they did to him what he was afraid those monsters of long ago were going to do. The feeling of suffocation morphed into a sensation of drowning as he was surrounded by those hulking creatures. Then came extraordinary fear and then blind panic as pain engulfed him and then blackness and nothingness.
Memory was knocking at the door but it couldn't quite make it through that door. Pete felt the sound of Jacoby's voice penetrate the fog of his mind. He actually felt the quiet vibrations coming at him. His gaze dropped to the policeman's lips as he spoke about inconsequential things, as he mentioned something funny that had happened at home and an odd experience with a new case he was working on. His lips kept moving as he continued his one-sided conversation. Then suddenly the movement of his lips changed. His mouth opened and closed in an odd manner, slowly, like that of a goldfish in a glass bowl. The detective frowned. It was still Jacoby's voice he heard but this time they were in the policeman's office. Jacoby was sitting behind his desk. He was talking about a different case, was asking him for some help, wanted to know if he would talk to some people for him. Pete frowned harder. His head was throbbing. It was as though something was inside, kicking at his skull, trying to fight its way out. He felt sick.
"I'm really sorry, Pete. I want you to know that."
Pete was jerked back to the present by the sound of his name falling from Lieutenant Jacoby's lips. He stared at the policeman, the bile rising in his throat. This wasn't right. Jacoby was his friend. He'd known him for years. Why did he feel this way? He tried to concentrate as the Lieutenant continued to speak. But he couldn't understand what the other man was saying. He stared at him blankly, the words coming out of Jacoby's mouth a jumble of unintelligible noise. He tried to say something but when he did the bile in his throat rose even higher until he felt he might gag. The feeling of suffocation returned and suddenly Dr. Carson was standing beside him, helping him to stand up and leading him into the bathroom where he quickly fell to his knees and lost his lunch in the toilet.
Jacoby dropped his hat onto the seat of his chair as he stood and watched the bathroom door swing shut behind Pete and the doctor. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen the other man subtly trying to get his attention but he had forged on tenaciously, suddenly desperate to have Pete understand that he hadn't intended for him to get hurt, to almost die simply because he had been helping him. Because he had asked him to do a favor and Pete had done what he always did. He'd said yes. Jacoby felt guilty. Beyond guilty if that was possible. His actions, and in some instances his lack of action, would have been a contributing factor had his friend been killed. And that was something he would have had to live with for the rest of his life. Jacoby wasn't sure he would have been able to do that. It was bad enough just knowing what Pete had gone through at the hands of Pauly Denner and his goons.
The policeman's gaze slid to the door leading from the corridor as Edie Hart pushed it all the way open and stepped into the room, a white ceramic coffee cup in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other. She set both items on the tray next to the bed before sending a concerned glance his way. It was the first time they'd been alone together, never mind that Pete and the doctor were in the next room, since Pete's first day in the hospital.
"Where's Pete?" Edie looked toward the bathroom at Jacoby's nod in that direction.
"The doctor's in there with him."
"Why? What happened?" Her blue stare met his as she awaited his response, a frisson of worry shooting through her insides, the beginnings of a confused frown forming.
Jacoby shifted uncomfortably. He didn't understand why he was so ambivalent toward this woman. He'd known her for over a year now, since the previous July when Pete had introduced her to him. The surprise he'd felt at that time spontaneously swept over him as he stood there returning her gaze. He'd been flummoxed. Much as he hated to he had to admit that to himself. He hadn't thought she was Pete's type then and maybe he still didn't think she was his type. But he guessed that was Pete's business, not his. It wasn't that he didn't like Edie Hart. He just didn't understand her. He guessed he knew what his friend saw in her. She was pretty and she was well built. She had a sense of humor. She had a nice voice and was a good singer. And Pete loved her. There was absolutely no question about that. Maybe his hesitancy came from his concern that while she was all those things to Pete, she might not be as deeply invested in the relationship as he was. The past few weeks should have absolved him of those thoughts but for some reason he couldn't force his mind to accept that. Maybe he was allowing his wife's weird ideas to influence him again. The policeman sighed and ran a hand over his thinning hair.
"I just wanted Pete to know how sorry I am about what happened."
Edie continued to stare at Jacoby as her mind absorbed what he said, the meaning behind what he didn't say becoming clear when he didn't continue. He'd said something to Pete, something that he shouldn't have, something that he'd been warned against. That much was obvious from the self-censure she read in his eyes. After everything Dr. Carson had said to him before he came in to visit Pete, after being forcefully reminded that Pete had no memory of what had happened to him, that the PI would remember in his own time and at his own pace, that he wasn't to mention anything concerning his friend's ordeal, Jacoby had said something anyway. He might not have had to say much. An offhand comment that in any other circumstance would be meaningless. The simple mention of a name. Anything might have triggered a response.
"What did you say to him?" Her words were worried more than anything else.
"I mentioned the conversation he and I had in my office," the policeman said. "When I asked him to talk to those two hoods," he elaborated. He listened to the silence and he watched Edie's face and he waited for a reaction. When it finally came it wasn't what he expected. She didn't yell, she didn't chew him out. She just looked at him guardedly and spoke in a calm voice, her words almost too low for him to hear.
"How could you?" the woman murmured. Not in an accusing manner. Not insultingly. "After what Dr. Carson said... Pete was out there helping you, doing you a favor because you're his friend." Edie's lips moved silently as she struggled to find words. "Couldn't you have stopped being the cop for once and treated him that way? As your friend?"
He didn't know why her gentle response made him so very angry. It just did.
"You know what?" Jacoby's voice was as soft as always but the words that came out of his mouth spilled out unfiltered. He couldn't stop them. He heard them himself as they passed his lips and he knew they were wrong and hurtful and untrue and they caused his stomach to churn and he recognized the sudden anguish in the woman's eyes as he said them, but he didn't seem to have any control over himself or his thoughts or his speech. "Maybe if you had been around he wouldn't have been at such loose ends all the time. Maybe he wouldn't have been so willing to help me out when I asked him to. Maybe I wouldn't have asked him to do me that favor at all. And he would never have gotten himself beaten half to death by those thugs and we wouldn't have found him on his last breath in the trunk of that car in that dirty warehouse. And we wouldn't be standing here having this stupid conversation." He took a breath and continued, unable to put a halt to the flow of words. "But you weren't there were you? Instead you were probably off sulking somewhere because you'd thrown him over and he didn't come running back to you like you wanted... and you suddenly realized you'd tossed out the best thing that ever happened to you."
The silence was deafening. Jacoby had heard that phrase throughout his entire life but this was the first time he had experienced it first hand.
Where did all that come from? He didn't mean it. Surely she knew he didn't mean any of that. He was just upset and angry over the injustice of it all and felt guilty as hell at what his friend had gone through and he had just wanted Pete to know that, to understand that. His best friend. A man in a job like his didn't make many friends and those that he had made he cherished to no end. He and the PI didn't have the best friend relationship that you would find as defined in a dictionary or thesaurus. It was something more, it was at a higher level. And he might have just ruined that forever. He hadn't meant those things he said at all. They had just come out at the spur of the moment, the raw emotions that he had tried so hard to contain during his search for his friend finally boiling over when he least expected it to happen. He had to make her see that.
But it was too late. Even as he reached out his hand in entreaty, even as he opened his mouth to apologize, to take the words back. Edie was staring at him, her blue eyes wide with shock, with disbelief at what he was implying. He saw the tears gather in her eyes as she took an involuntary step backwards, he caught a glimpse of her face crumpling with pain as she stumbled through the door and out into the hallway. He tried to follow her. He really did. But his feet seemed glued to the floor. By the time he regained his equilibrium and went after her she had disappeared.
He heard Carson talking, telling him not to worry, it was just a result of the concussion. They'd discussed the symptoms he might continue to experience over the coming weeks. Did he remember that? The detective nodded weakly, that simple movement causing his insides to roil. He managed to avoid being sick again and after a few minutes cautiously stood up and leaned against the sink. He saw his face in the mirror, pale and perspiring. He felt better and his mind was clearer but his head continued to throb.
Pete grabbed the bottle of hospital-issued mouthwash and took a large swig, swishing it around in his mouth until he could no longer taste the bitterness then spitting it into the sink. When his legs ceased trembling he pushed away from the sink and walked ahead of the doctor into his room, praying he could make it to his wheelchair without stumbling and falling flat on his face. He managed to do just that, folding himself slowly into the chair as he glanced around and wondered at the emptiness of the room. Jacoby was gone although his hat lay on the chair he'd been occupying. Edie had never returned from getting the coffee she'd promised him, a first-time treat of his hospital stay. Something about caffeine. But there was a mug of coffee on the tray situated between the bed and his chair. There was also a sheet of paper which he picked up, a menu of the hospital's evening meals. Another treat? He'd not received a menu before. So Edie must have been there, must have returned while he and the doctor were otherwise occupied.
Mrs. Henry stuck her head in the door and asked if everything was all right. Her eyes shifted between Dr. Carson and his patient. Carson answered in the affirmative but his face seemed troubled. He wondered at the nurse's question. Following her out into the hall as Pete got himself situated, he was told that Miss Hart had gone rushing off down the hallway like the devil himself was chasing after her. The policeman had followed a few seconds later, obviously looking for her as he almost jogged toward the elevator.
As the doctor and nurse stood quietly talking Lieutenant Jacoby appeared from around the corner and slowly approached them. He looked like he'd just run a marathon. His face was perspiring, his tie was askew and he was breathing heavily. He swiped at the sweat and looked at his hand then wiped it dry on his pants as he threw a despondent glance at the nurse.
"I don't suppose she came back?" He grimaced when Mrs. Henry shook her head, his head tipping back and his eyes finding the ceiling. He closed them briefly, sending up a silent prayer that things wouldn't get any worse, then snapped to attention as the sound of the elevator doors opening echoed along the hallway. The policeman felt his stomach drop when Frank Gunn stepped out and began walking in their direction.
"Oy." Jacoby had a feeling this next conversation wasn't going to end well. Gunn had a mediocre impression of him to begin with. It wasn't going to get any better.
She wouldn't have left the building. Frank knew that as surely as he knew his own name. Beyond that he had absolutely no idea where the woman might be. The girl who held his son's very heart in her hands. Girl. Woman. It was difficult to figure where the one ended and the other began. He'd learned a lot about Edie Hart in the short time he'd been here. She was complicated, as most women were. She was also independent and headstrong and bewitching and compassionate and exasperating. And she very obviously loved his son with the maturity and relentlessness and completeness of a full-grown woman. On the other hand she could be awkward and unsophisticated and flirtatious and puzzling and girlish and sometimes exhibited a childlike innocence that couldn't help but bring a smile to his face. It was no wonder Pete was so crazy about her.
Pushing the door open at the second floor landing Frank took a quick look up and down the hallway. Nothing seemed out of sorts. No helter-skelter looks from the folks he saw moving about. He stepped out of the stairwell and walked a circuit of the floor, peering into waiting rooms and empty rooms and meeting rooms, everywhere but the ladies rooms, and finding no trace of a runaway blonde. Arriving back at his starting point he stepped back into the stairwell and moved down the steps to the first floor landing. Next to the elevators as he exited onto the floor he found the big sign that pointed visitors in whatever direction they needed or wanted to go. He scanned it and stood irresolute for a moment then made a decision and turned on his heel and headed past the reception desk in the direction he elected. Frank continued to glance into each waiting room he passed, peered into the cafeteria and looked through each doorway leading outside to steps and sitting areas. His chosen destination was where he ultimately found her.
Edie Hart felt the cushion dip as Frank Gunn settled down next to her on the pew. She was sitting toward the back of the small, softly lit hospital chapel, eyes staring fixedly forward to the small altar and the single stained glass window behind it. Bright sunlight streamed through the window, its rays casting a multi-hued glow upon the wooden cross stationed in front of the window as well as on the church chaplain as he completed the brief one o'clock service with a short prayer. Edie really couldn't find the energy to kneel and once she felt Pop's arm slip along the back of the pew to embrace her shoulders she found she didn't want to move. They sat that way for a long while following the service, neither saying anything, a companionable silence settling over them. Finally the woman stirred and looked for the hour but discovered she wasn't wearing her watch.
"What time is it?" She sighed tiredly when Frank told her it was a little after two. "Pete will probably be wondering where I am."
"Probably," the man benignly agreed.
"He'll begin to think I'm like that man who told his wife he was going to the grocery store to pick up a pack of cigarettes and then never came back."
They both chuckled at the old joke. Frank's laugh was accompanied by an amused smile. Edie's laugh quickly turned to tears and a sniffle.
"It was so stupid," she choked out. The tears came faster as Pop wrapped his arm more securely around her shoulders and pulled her close, his other arm encircling her waist as he turned slightly toward her, her head dropping to the curve of his neck. "What I did to Pete... It was so stupid."
"It wasn't stupid," Frank soothed, settling his chin on the top of her head. "It was just one of those things that happens. Every relationship has its ups and downs, believe me. If the past month or so is the worst thing that ever happens between the two of you then you can consider yourselves luckier than most. A lot of couples go through less and never find their way back to each other again."
"Pete told you what happened." It was a statement, not a question. Edie felt him nod and lifted her head, wiping at the tears with one hand as Frank reached into his shirt pocket and handed her his handkerchief. "So you know the whole sordid story," she half joked.
"Pete told me about it last night when he had trouble sleeping." The elder Gunn smiled slightly at her questioning look. "I knew something had been on his mind. Sometimes a man just wants to get something off his chest. And sometimes a father is lucky enough to be there for his son to talk to." His expression turned serious as he continued. "Life is short. When two people love each other a relationship, marriage... it deserves a lifetime. What's a couple months in the grand scheme of things? In another fifty years it will just be one of those long ago memories that you laugh about and ask each other how you could have been such idiots. Both of you," he stressed. "He realizes he made mistakes, that you both share the blame for what happened."
"He said there was a reason he was working so much, taking all those jobs. Always being away," Edie said. "But we haven't really talked about it. I should have asked him. Talked to him before..." She gave a damp chuckle. "But he was never there to talk to." She scrubbed at her cheeks with the handkerchief and said simply, "I missed him."
"You know, honey – and I apologize if this sounds corny – love, real love between two people, isn't like a fairy tale. It doesn't always begin with once upon a time and it doesn't always end with happily ever after. There's an awful lot of muck you have to work your way through to be successful at it." Frank squeezed her shoulder. "Take it from someone who's been there – it's a lot easier and much more rewarding when you do it together."
He watched as Edie neatly folded the handkerchief and carefully returned it to his shirt pocket for him.
"As for all that extra work Pete was taking on," Frank Gunn's narrow shoulders lifted in a shrug. He wasn't going to let on that Pete had told him a few things Edie wasn't aware of. That was for the two of them to sort out between themselves. "You know my son as well as I do. There's a reason for everything and everything has its reason. Now," Frank shifted on the pew, removing his arm from around her shoulders and giving her knee a pat. "Do you want to talk to me about whatever it was Lieutenant Jacoby said that had you so upset?"
Edie shook her head and turned her gaze to an elderly couple walking up the aisle to a front pew, smiling softly at their joined hands and how closely they sat as they settled on the pew. She wondered what brought them here. "Maybe later," she eventually told him.
"Jacoby's an odd sort isn't he?" the man mused. "I haven't quite been able to figure him out yet."
"Join the club," he heard the woman murmur.
"I get the distinct impression that you and he don't have the best of relationships."
"I'm not sure what our relationship is," Edie admitted. "Some days I love him and other days I think I hate him. And I'm pretty certain the feeling is mutual."
"So why do you put up with him?"
"He's Pete's friend," she answered, showing him a wry smile. It was as simple as that.
Frank gave a muffled snort and leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he looked at her and suggested they head back upstairs. Pete would be wondering where Edie was, he wasn't even aware that his Pop had returned to the hospital, and Dr. Carson mentioned earlier that he wanted to have a conversation about Pete with the two of them sometime this afternoon or evening. If he was still around this was as good a time as any. When Edie told him to go on ahead, that she'd follow in a few minutes, Frank nodded. He was quiet for a long moment, still sitting in the same position, his blue gaze resting where Edie's had earlier, on the stained glass window and the wooden cross.
"Pete's mom – Elizabeth," he glanced at Edie and away again. "She was something else. There never has been and there never will be another woman like her. Not for me. I'd tell you that you have no idea how much I loved her but I'd be lying, because I know beyond any doubt that you love Pete just as much. You two have a very special relationship." He sat up straight and leaned against the back of the oak pew and turned his head to look straight into Edie's eyes as he continued in a soft voice. "God couldn't have given me a better son. And God couldn't have given my son a better woman than the one I hope to call my daughter-in-law one day."
Frank gave a crooked smile as he saw the sheen of tears well up in the girl's eyes. Then he leaned sideways and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing the back of the pew in front of them and pulling himself to his feet.
"Don't be too long," he winked at her as he stepped away toward the door. "You know how fidgety that boy gets about things. If you don't show back up pretty soon he might decide to come looking for you himself in that wheelchair of his. I don't think the poor hospital has insurance enough to cover what might happen if he does."
Edie's gaze remained on his back as he walked through the doorway and then paused and turned around to look at her. His gaze was thoughtful and compassionate and held some knowledge she wasn't sure of until he spoke again.
"What happened to Pete wasn't your fault." Frank's voice was soft and steady. "I know that, you know that, Pete knows that. That's all that matters." He shook his head. "Pete does what Pete does. If he doesn't want to do something he doesn't do it. He's his own man, and sometimes that comes back to bite him, but that's just the way it is."
He watched Edie closely as she digested his words, then crooked his right eyebrow in silent interrogation and held out his hand, smiling as she stood up and joined him in the weary walk that would lead them back to Pete. The two people in the world that loved him most.