by Jay Sherfey
Frank, however, was not close. Jason stretched his abilities more than ever before. He took more energy from Suzy and Russ. He discovered Frank by his mother’s bed in Kearny; he watched over her as she slept.
The work on Frank turned out to be the most difficult. The man on his own managed to change some of his own files regarding Lydia and his mother. Jason needed some of these pages restored for things to get back to normal in the Dubois house.
“No, you can’t.” Jason heard Suzy’s voice. “Let it play out, Jason. You can make changes later if you need to.”
“How are you doing this?” Shocked, Jason turned and saw Suzy’s face. It floated as if on television. She looked down on him.
“I…I don’t know. I just suddenly woke up and knew what you were going to do and I had to stop you.” Her image frowned down.
“Why?” Jason felt his security threatened. Leaving Frank’s emotional improvements in place was a risk.
“Do no harm, Jason.” Suzy’s face faded; her words echoed to silence. Jason was free to choose. He scanned his clipboard. One item remained unchecked; the power was his. The risk that he might be found through Frank scared him. What happened to Russ’s little sister, would not happen to him. One check and Jason would be safe. Frank would be back in his hell hole with Edna and Lydia lording over him; Jason would breathe easier. The pencil tapped against the clipboard. He rocked back and forth on his heals unsure about which path to take. Finally he touched pencil to paper.
I’m gonna regret this no end. With a quick stroke, Jason crossed out the issue. It faded from the list like disappearing ink will as it dries. Suzy had it right, he thought, the high road no matter what. Besides, I am not like Lydia. Jason pulled back to the confines of his own mind satisfied that his actions worked as intended. He disconnected from Suzy and Russ. He managed to open his eyes a moment and saw his circle of friends asleep. Satisfied they were safe, he fell back unconscious.
Chapter 28
“I may have killed her,” moaned Jason on Sunday morning. The rumor of Frank’s mother’s death spread quickly through the house. He fretted in the kitchen with Suzy as Frank braved Lydia’s onslaught.
“No, you didn’t,” insisted Suzy. “You would have seen it. You would have fixed it, if you saw it coming. It wasn’t there. How could you know?” She touched Jason’s shoulder as he sat at the table.
“How can I know? How…how can you be so sure?” Jason stuttered. He felt guilty and fearful beyond anything he had known. His actions might have killed someone. His stomach churned. He might throw up.
“Look at me,” insisted Suzy. Jason just sat there. His forehead bounced on the tabletop. “Look at me!” she yelled. Slowly he raised his head and turned to look at her. “When have you ever done anything to hurt anyone? When you had Lydia completely in your control, did you hurt her?” Suzy waited a heartbeat. “No, you didn’t. You did something to help all of us.”
Jason stared at her; he could not comprehend what she said. He felt responsible. He was the superhero. Superheros don’t kill people, he thought. Frank’s mother was dead.
“She was old! She died, but you had nothing to do with her death. If anything you made things better as you always have when you do what you do. Do I need to remind you?” Suzy fumed, frustrated with Jason’s stubbornness.
“I need to talk to Frank.” Jason jumped to his feet and started for the porch.
As if on cue, the front door opened and closed. They heard Lydia’s footsteps on the stairs to the second floor. Jason headed outside and found Frank crying. His foster father straightened up and glared at Jason as he walked out onto the porch. Jason stopped, ready to back off, and leave him alone.
Frank smiled and waved him over when he saw who it was. He wiped his eyes.
“Sorry, I thought you were Lydia coming back for round two.” The two just stared at each other for a moment neither sure what to say.
“I am so sorry about your mom, Frank,” said Jason, finally. “I mean…that’s the last thing I wanted to see happen.” He fidgeted under Frank’s intense gaze.
“Thanks. I had hoped to hear something like that from…someone else.” He nodded toward the house. He let it go; blood never came from a stone. After a pause he said, “I knew it was coming. Her dying, I mean.” He thought for a second and realized that he really liked this kid. He looked at Jason for a moment and thought that if he had ever had a son, he would want him to be like the tool shed kid. He smiled and remembered what he and Lydia used to think of him.
“I thought,” Frank continued, “she would pass on and leave nothing settled. Settled for me, that is.” He took a deep breath. “She gave me a gift; then died before I could say thanks.” He choked on his last words. Jason said nothing; he waited. “It was a CVA, ’cause of her high blood pressure. A cerebral vascular accident the doctors called it. They were surprised she lasted as long as she did.” Frank stared off into the distance and whispered, “Four days is better than nothing.”
“I’m still sorry, Frank. You shoulda had more time.” Frank just nodded, his tears flowed again. Jason left him alone.
A few hours later Jason met Russ and Suzy in the shed.
“Looks like, I probably didn’t kill her,” said Jason as he entered.
“So, what happened with your foster dad’s mom?” asked Russ in his usual spot at the tool bench.
“She was sick. I didn’t look for it.” Jason sighed and took a seat. “I might have saved her but…I just didn’t take the time to look.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.” Suzy would not allow him to take responsibility for any part of this death. “You had no reason to look for anything. As a matter of fact, you simply tested your abilities and did Frank a big favor. So…”
“OK, Suzy,” said Jason harshly. “OK,” he followed more softly. Jason never wanted to feel this way again. He would never be less than thorough in the future. Fortunately, Russ decided it was time for a change of subject.
“I have no idea what happened by the oak tree,” said Russ. He scratched his nose with his fingers and looked at Jason. “I kinda recall carrying you somewhere.”
Russ and Jason turned to Suzy. “Fill us in. What happened?” asked Jason. “I have no memory of it either.”
“Well, I woke up first,” began Suzy. Her annoyance with Jason slipped away. “Russ was half awake. You,” she pointed to Jason, “were lying across the roots of the tree, out like a light. The adults were asleep too.” She took a deep breath. “I pushed and tugged on Russ to help me half drag and half carry you beyond the hedge where the broken fountain is. Then I waited. Russ fell asleep again on your shoulder. It was kinda cute. You two leaning together.”
“Oh, god,” moaned Russ. “Don’t you ever repeat this outside of our little group.”
Jason just chuckled.
“The adults,” Suzy continued, “woke up before Jason came around. They acted confused at first; then they got up and walked away as if on a mission.”
“When did I come around?” Jason asked.
“Not long after the adults left.” Suzy smiled at Jason. It made him uncomfortable. She knew something, he did not.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Russ, impatient to get to the good stuff. “So what happened with the bomb? Did it all work?” Russ squirmed in place ready to jump out of his skin in anticipation.
“Yes, Russ,” said Jason, turning to his energetic friend. “It worked. I’m just a kid to everyone. A very smart kid to a few.” He returned his gaze to Suzy.
“And, and …?” Russ wanted details.
“Well, I did a few special things for you.” Jason nodded to Russ. “The girls are going to love you, my friend. You’re going to start wearing dresses and growing your hair long and…”
“Sonovabit…” Russ was dumbfounded. He believed every word Jason spoke.
Suzy laughed out loud. Jason’s serious demeanor gave way to laughter. Russ was too good a target.
“Just a regular kid, Ru
ss. Nothing more than that.” Jason slapped his back and laughed at his reaction.
“Hey, man, don’t do that.” Russ ran his fingers through his hair. “Like, I take you very seriously. The girls like me well enough, ya know?” He calmed and sat quietly for a moment. “So what did you tell the adults in our circle to do?”
“Basically, I set things up so they would return to a familiar site, like their homes, or the library. Once there, they’d do a few little familiar things. About then, their memories of me would change.” Jason smiled sadly. It was too easy.
“What more did you do?” asked Suzy suspicious.
“Let’s just say that Mr. Downing will be visiting the library a lot more.”
“Mary Tremont?” asked Suzy.
“Of course.” Jason nodded.
“You setup ol’ Downer and Mrs. Tremont?” laughed Russ.
“Do you think that was wise?” Suzy sounded worried; she ignored Russ’s amusement.
“It will be the greatest thing he will never thank me for.” Jason felt good about his little action on Mary’s behalf in Mr. Downing’s mind.
“Hey,” yelled Russ, “I may want to never thank you sometime too. I’ll let you know for what.”
“So,” said Suzy, “that explains it.”
“Explains what?” Jason knew there was something Suzy held back.
“Why Mr. Downing and Mrs. Tremont left the park arm in arm. It was dear.” Suzy dropped all of her opposition and acknowledged Jason’s action on Mary’s behalf as a good thing. “It was probably long overdue.”
“Thanks,” said Jason, smiling broadly. He could not read Suzy’s mind but he imagined what she described nevertheless.
They spent the rest of the day enjoying each other’s company. They joined Rachel and the other Dubois house inmates for lunch. Later, even Frank joined and insisted that Russ stay for dinner. The plans for his mother’s funeral could be set aside for a time. He taught them how to play poker; he broke out a new deck of cards and strands of uncooked spaghetti. He snapped the pasta in half and laid the pieces in the middle of the table.
“Why don’t you guys divvy those up.” Frank stood and headed to the basement. “I need something from downstairs.” He returned after a few minutes with a bread basket sized, off-white box. “Too quiet, don’t you think? We need some music.” He placed the old radio on the counter next to the sink, plugged it into the socket under the cabinet, and fiddled with the dials. A song blasted out.
I left my heart in San Fran… “Aw, that Tony Bennett can sing a good tune.” He turned down the volume and returned to his seat. “Are we set?”
“All set,” said many voices simultaneously.
“Whoever wins the most eats the best tonight my friends.” Frank laughed as the kids around the kitchen table giggled. This was the best he felt in a long time. He could not remember when he last laughed spontaneously. “Five card draw is the name of the game. Everyone ante up. One piece will do.”
Spaghetti strands rolled to the middle of the table. The cards slid across the table top. Jason saw no ghosts haunting the occupants at the table. He heard only what was said aloud. Like Frank, this was the best time he could ever recall. He turned out to be a lousy poker player, easily bluffed. The big winners, however, Suzy and Sam, shared their winnings. Everyone ate well and everyone laughed.
Chapter 29
On a rainy Saturday afternoon late in September in a suburb of Bismarck, North Dakota, children concentrated on their tasks to meet the deadline. Reena Sorenson supervised her crew of eight and nine year olds, gathered in groups of four around her enormous kitchen table. The kids, boys and girls, laughed and giggled. They squished cookie dough through their fingers certain to mix all of the ingredients well.
A boy leaned closer to his partner, a girl wearing a pink dress under a white apron, and said, “Like sticking your hands down a clogged drain full a fish guts.”
“Ahh, gross!” cried the other girls around the table; they laughed anyway. Quickly, the game became who could find the most disgusting description of what they pressed between their fingers. Worms and three day old mashed potatoes with gravy gave way to fresh, warm cow pies when Mrs. Sorenson stepped in.
“Enough my dears, we have a schedule to keep.” She tapped the kitchen counter near the sink with her large wooden, mixing spoon.
“Oh jeez, Mrs. S, we were just ’bout to get to the good ones,” whined a brown haired boy at the end of the table.
“Don’t be petulant, my dear Edward.” She frowned at the eight year old.
“Yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am,” said the boy quickly.
Reena went from bowl to bowl and checked the consistency and readiness for the cookie sheet. The neighborhood kids loved her. Mrs. S’s kitchen could be fun, and you might learn a thing or two. Having fun, of course, trumped learning. Some of the parents of these children had made cookies in Reena’s kitchen when they were eight or nine.
“Cookie sheets everyone. Start shaping the balls. You are all doing very well. There will be cookies going home today.” She smiled as the children cheered. A mountain of chocolate chip or oatmeal cookies poured out of her oven for the end of the summer festival.
Reena, an attractive woman with black hair falling just below her ear, a practical cut she called it, showed streaks of gray. She had been around for a long time, but her face did not betray her age. The gray she added, a sensible thing to do in her opinion. She stood five feet six inches and could be described as sturdy in her build but not overweight. A whirlwind of activity, Reena stood as the standard by which other women were measured. To be told you had pulled off a Mrs. S. was the height of compliments in her neighborhood.
Every head turned with a knock at the kitchen door. Mr. Bill Sorenson stepped into the warm room full of magnificent odors given off by baking cookies and clapped his hands in appreciation.
“Are we going to make it this year?” He glanced at the children in mock skepticism of their ability to deliver to Reena’s exacting specifications. Like his wife his full head of brown hair possessed the marks of aging at his temples but his face told another tale. No shadows of wrinkles or laugh lines touched his pleasant face. At six feet tall, he emanated health; he stood in the kitchen entry in his green t-shirt dotted with wood splinters. When not working for their Community, Bill Sorenson spent his days shaping wood into beautiful, as well as, useful pieces of furniture. He liked the feel of the wood in his hands. He often disappeared into his workshop behind their house for days. Bill returned to the house only when the piece stood finished; the first layer of stain drying.
A quiet man, he and Reena suited each other well.
“We’re already ahead of schedule.” She leaned over and kissed Bill on the cheek. They stood and watched the kids for a moment; then Reena whispered to Bill, “I need to talk to you.” He nodded. They stepped back into the hallway.
“I spoke to Rodney,” she said softly. She let out a long, disappointed breath.
“He messed up again?” Bill frowned. He brushed the wood debris from his shirt.
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Maybe not. You know how he is?” She shook her head disappointed. “I would have left it alone except I picked up a whisper of another event. By the time I was able to focus my full attention, it was gone.” She shook her head, crossed her arms, and sighed. “Either I mistook some background noise as something significant, or there is a new power with which we must reckon.”
Bill nodded. “What do you need done?”
“It’s not what I need,” she said, suddenly cross. “It’s what the Community needs.” She defined all of her special actions as “good of the Community”. Reena looked into his pleasant face and calmed. Bill had that effect on her.
“Of course,” he said. He sensed her concern and her need to rationalize her actions.
“I want you to take the next month or two and scout in Philadelphia and the area south of the city for any signs of our special abilities.”
“I may not be the best choice for this task.” Bill leaned back against the wall mildly shocked by the request. Reena showed no concern. “I can’t read thoughts to discern what has happened. You may want a more talented scout in that sense.”
“You can’t be read is more to the point.” She placed her hand gently on his chest. “If Rodney got it wrong, there may be a very powerful person living there. We need to know and you, my dear, are perfect for the task.”
“I understand. Makes sense.” His hand covered hers affectionately. His mind moved to the task; Bill started to make a list in his head of what he would need for the trip.
“I would expect you to be back by Thanksgiving.” She pulled her hand out from under his and put her arms on his shoulders. She pulled him into an embrace. “Just take your time and settle this for me. OK?”
“OK, hon. I’ll take care of everything. I always do.” Bill leaned down and kissed her lips, hugging her tight.
“Mrs. S?” asked a shy voice from the kitchen entrance.
“What now, Edward?” She let go, stepped back from her husband, and turned to the child.
“We think we’re ready for the next batch to go into the oven.” The boy smiled. His face showed clear signs of having sampled the raw cookie mix. Chocolate smeared his cheek; it started from the corner of his mouth and gave him a brown, painted smile. Reena chuckled.
“Then by all means we need to get this train rolling down those tracks. Into the oven they go.” She shooed him back into the kitchen. She turned and smiled at Bill who returned her affection with a grin of his own. He headed upstairs to start packing. When Reena asked, everyone, especially Bill, jumped. Tomorrow he would be in Philadelphia.
* * *
As Bill Sorenson collected his things and packed his bags, Jason shared the back seat of the blue Valiant with Suzy and Rachel. Jim, the eldest of the foster children, sat in the front with Frank. The mood was somber; everyone wore their best which meant the cleanest jeans, shirts, and socks available to the kids. Frank wore a navy jacket over a white shirt and tie. He drove fast toward Kearny. It was the last time.