She looked at Mike.
“Mike, you should apply.”
“Maybe I will next year. Right now I’d rather get these crops growing real good. Bill, if you want, once the crops are planted I’ll start working with them a couple of evenings a week. My specialty is English, but I can teach them math and science and a little bit of history. I’m no Einstein. I don’t know an algebraic equation from a black hole. But I can teach them what they’ll need to get by. I can augment whatever they learn in school during the day.”
Anne spoke up.
“God bless you for offering to do that, both of you. We’ve been worried that they’d forget everything they’ve ever learned.”
“How old are they?”
“The oldest is twelve. The youngest is five.”
She turned to the children, who were digging in the dirt two houses away.
“Hey, kids! Come here a minute!”
The children were very well behaved, and came right over, the youngest covered with dirt from head to toe.
“I have good news. Miss Scarlett and Mister Mike have offered to start teaching school to you in a few weeks.”
The dirty one said “Yay!”
He obviously liked school.
The middle one was indifferent.
The twelve year old rolled his eyes and muttered, “Oh, great.”
-43-
Nurse Becky was going through a medical supply cabinet, looking for a suture removal kit, when Scott walked in.
“Well hello there, tall, dark and handsome. How are you this morning?”
Scott said nothing, but turned around to see if there was anyone standing behind him.
“Yes, I’m talking about you, you goofball. Go wait for me in Screening Room 1. I’ve got a couple of stitches to pull from someone’s arm, and I’ll be right with you.”
Scott did what he was told, got comfortable on the exam table, and tried not to doze off.
He’d been awake most of the night after having a dream about Joyce. And he was exhausted.
After about ten minutes or so, Joyce came into the room and unceremoniously plopped a red brick into the examiner’s chair.
Scott looked at the brick, thought for just a moment, but couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say. He made do with, “Uh… okay.”
“It’s a brick.”
“Yes. I can see that.”
He resisted the urge to ask the obvious question: why was there a brick in the exam room with him?
He assumed she’d tell him in time.
“Okay, Scott. How’s your hoof?”
“It’s getting better. At least the pain is. I assume the infection is also, if they go hand in hand.”
“The pain generally subsides as the infection clears up, yes. Take off your shoe and let’s have a look.”
She put on latex gloves and began examining his foot.
“While I’m doing this, Scott, call John Castro on your radio. See if they can spare you for an hour or so.”
“Uh, okay. But why?”
“You have a project you need to complete before we release you.”
“I wasn’t aware I’d been admitted.”
“Just do as you’re told.”
Scott smiled.
“And what if I choose not to play your silly game? Then what?”
“Then I’ll take your radio and call John myself. And you’ll have to explain to Chief Martinez and all those other big burly cops how a ninety pound woman managed to overpower you and steal your radio.”
“I don’t think Chief Martinez would ask how. He knows that of that ninety pounds, about eighty five pounds are pure meanness.”
She stood and reached for the police radio on his belt.
He put his hand on it and said, “Okay, okay, you win. I’ll call.”
He took the radio from his belt and said, “Charlie Two Five, Charlie Four Six.”
While waiting for an answer, he stuck out his tongue at Becky, and covered his face when she balled up a fist and waved it at him.
“Go ahead, Four Six.”
“I’ll be ten seven for another hour or so. Can you cover my district if anything comes up?”
“Ten four, Four Six.”
Scott put the radio back on his belt and said, “There. You satisfied?”
She smiled.
“Yes. Now stop being so grumpy.”
“Are you going to tell me what the brick is for?”
“Would you believe me if I said I was going to hit you over the head with it?”
“No.”
“Well, then. You’ll just have to wait until we’re done.”
She continued to poke and prod on his wound, causing him to wince a couple of times.
“Does this hurt? How about that?”
Finally, she applied antiseptic cream and a new bandage.
“It appears to be healing well. A few more days and we’ll have you running marathons again. Now then. Put your shoe back on. We have someplace to go.”
Becky led him to a small break room next to the nurse’s station. There were a couple of other nurses at a far table having coffee, and they said hello to the couple as they walked into the room.
Then Becky placed the brick on the center of an empty table.
It caught the nurses’ eyes, and Scott noticed they lost their smiles immediately. Their faces took on a look of sadness, and they looked at him with something akin to pity.
They quickly finished their coffee and left the room.
“Sit down, Scott. Get comfortable.”
She slid the brick over in front of him, and then walked over to a supply cabinet.
She took out a cardboard box and brought it to the table.
It was full of two dozen small glass bottles of fingernail polish.
He was puzzled.
She sat down across from him.
“Okay, the suspense is killing me. What’s this all about?”
“Consider it therapy, Scott. You’ve been taking Joyce’s death very hard. That’s understandable. You loved the woman. That’s understandable too. From everything you’ve told me, she was an incredible woman, and certainly worthy of your love.
“But a lot of us are concerned for you. You have a long path ahead of you. It’s time you started taking a few baby steps along that path. I’m not saying you should forget Joyce and your relationship with her. Joyce will always be a part of your life, as well she should be.
“All I’m saying is that you need to start moving forward again.
“And if Joyce were here now I think she’d agree with me.”
“So, what are we going to be doing with the brick?”
“We’re going to paint it. Actually, I shouldn’t say ‘we.’ You’re going to paint it. I’ve already painted mine.”
-44-
Scott unscrewed the lid off a bottle of hot pink nail polish.
“Hey, cool! It comes with its own little paint brush inside.”
Becky smiled, taking a small bit of comfort in seeing that he hadn’t already known that.
“Now, Scott, I want you to block out all the ugliness in the world. Block out all of that disgusting stuff you do on the job all day long. Block out having to live in the same house with John and Robbie and Randy and having to smell their dirty socks all over the house all the time.
“And especially, I want you to block out all the pain and misery that happened at what you and John call your ‘compound.’”
Scott looked at her, still unsure of where she was going with this. But he tried his best to comply with her instructions.
“Now, I want you to focus only on Joyce. Her smile. Her laughter. The way you felt the first time you held her in your arms. The way you felt the first time you made love to her. Block out everything else so you can see only her.
“Now picture her in the prettiest dress you ever saw her wear. And describe that dress to me.”
“It was the first time I took her ballroom dancing. The dress w
as bright red. Satin, I think, or something real shiny. It had a black belt with a red buckle and it just looked amazing on her.”
“Very good. Now I want you to remember her eyes, and describe them to me.”
“She had the bluest eyes. They just melted me whenever I looked into them. It sounds silly, I know. But when I looked into them they just seemed to go on forever.”
“What was her favorite color, do you know?”
“I thought it was purple. She’d laugh at me and tell me it was violet.”
“Do you know her favorite flower?”
“That’s easy. White roses.”
“If you had to describe a color to sum up your relationship, what would that color be?”
He had to think hard.
“I think probably orange. I think of orange as warm. And comfortable. And that’s how I felt when I was with her.”
“You’re doing fine, Scott. One last question. What was the thing she valued most in life? Not people, or you. I’m looking for her most cherished physical possession.”
“She had a brooch. A purple… no, a violet one that her grandmother had given her. She used to take it out and hold it sometimes and just stare at it, remembering visions of her grandmother when she wore it. She loved that thing. Linda placed it in her hands before we buried her.”
Becky looked at him with something in her eyes. He couldn’t read it. Sadness, maybe?
“You did fine, Scott. Now we can get started.”
“Started? What was all that, if we haven’t started yet?”
She ignored his question and placed the brick directly in front of him.
“Okay, let’s go back to the first question. The dress. I want you to find the color of nail polish that most matches the color of that dress she wore dancing. And I want you to paint the outer edge of the brick, all the way around, with that color.”
“What if I can’t find the exact color?”
She laughed.
“If you can’t find it in that box, say the word. I’ve got four other boxes full of nail polish. I went across the street one afternoon to the abandoned Walgreen’s. The looters had taken all the food long before that, but for some reason they left behind all the nail polish. I cleaned them all out of it.”
Then, “Oops. I forgot you’re a cop now. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that part.”
“Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure the statute of limitations for nail polish theft is only about five minutes.”
He found a red that matched Joyce’s dress and began painting the outer rim of the brick.
She said, “It dries quickly, but you still have to be careful where you put your hands so you don’t smudge it. When you’re finished with the red, I want you to find a blue to match her eyes. And use it to paint a blue heart in the upper left corner.”
“I’m not much of an artist.”
“You don’t have to be. Just do your best and it’ll be fine.
“I have to go take a couple of sets of vitals. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes or so to check on you.”
“Okay.”
Scott had never been to therapy, so he wasn’t sure if this was normal or just weird. He did know, though, that it was nice, clearing his mind of everything else and just reliving the good times he had with Joyce.
It was also nice that Becky was spending her time and efforts to help him deal with his grief.
She came back just as he was finishing up the heart.
“How are you coming?”
“Good so far. The blue is a perfect match. I can so see her eyes when I look at it.”
“Great. That’s kinda the point. Can I get you some coffee before you move on to the next step?”
“No, thanks, I’m getting tired of stale coffee.”
“Honey, this coffee ain’t stale. This is fresh grown and fresh ground.”
He just looked at her like her words didn’t register.
“One of the girls bought some real coffee beans on the internet a few months before the blackout so she could grow her own in a little greenhouse in her back yard. She’s dead now, I’m afraid, but we rescued her bean plants and her coffee lives on. We call it “Stacey Coffee” as a tribute to her.”
“Well, in that case, I’d love some.”
“Okay, I’ll get it. I would guess you’re the kind of man who drinks it black?”
“As black as a pirate’s heart.”
“Okay. While I’m gone, go ahead and start on the next step. Paint a white rose in the lower left corner, and the violet brooch in the upper right corner. I’ll be right back.”
-45-
Scott closed his eyes as he sipped his coffee. It was that good.
“I think this is the best coffee I’ve had in years. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And it is pretty good, isn’t it? Now that you know where it is, maybe you can come back more often and get some.
“Now then, turn your brick around so I can see how it’s coming.”
Scott’s artistic abilities left a lot to be desired, but his project was coming along quite nicely.
“Oh, my. The rose is beautiful.”
“Thank you. I’m afraid the brooch didn’t come out so well. It looks like a big purple blob.”
“It doesn’t matter. As long as you can look at that big purple blob and see the brooch it represents, it doesn’t matter what it looks like. And you’re wrong. If I walked in off the street and didn’t have a clue what you were doing, I’d look at that purple blob and I’d say, ‘My goodness. What a beautiful violet brooch you’ve painted.’”
“Liar.”
“Yeah, maybe a little.”
“Seriously, Becky, what’s this all about?”
“My, my. You are so impatient. As I said, this is about therapy. It’s to help you heal and help you get on with the process of living again. The painting of the brick is just the first part. You’ll really like what comes next.
“But first, you have to finish the brick. We only have two things left to do. Then all your questions will be answered.
“You said your couple color was orange, because it was warm and described how you felt when you were together. I want you to look through the box and find that color orange, or as close to it as you can get. And I want you to paint Joyce’s name in large letters in the center of the brick. Then I want you to find her favorite color and use it to paint one word to describe Joyce in the lower right corner. I need to go check on a couple of patients. Can you remember all that?”
“Sure.”
“If you can’t find your colors, remember there are several more boxes of paints in that cabinet over there, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. I’ll be back in ten or fifteen minutes.”
When she returned, she found Scott on the radio again, with John, asking him if he could have another half hour of down time.
“No problem, Charlie Four Six. Things are slow. Take your time.”
She stood behind him, looking over his shoulder, getting his perspective of the brick. She rested a hand innocently on his shoulder. She liked the way it felt there, and the warmth of his body. She liked the way he smelled.
She had no way of knowing, but he was thinking exactly the same things.
“It looks great, Scott. Now, the next phase of the project. Pick up your brick and bring it. We’re going for a walk.”
Scott picked up the brick as instructed, careful not to touch the parts that were still wet.
They walked through the huge hospital until they got to the center of the building, then exited into a small courtyard.
Most of the courtyard was covered with pavestone, but on one end, a circular section of grass about twenty feet across, brought life to the area. Centered in the grassy circle was a red oak tree, perhaps twenty feet tall. On each side of the tree were wooden park benches.
But the most prominent feature of the circle was a simple wooden cross, painted pure white and without ornamentation, abou
t halfway between the base of the tree and the edge of the circle.
Arranged in front of the cross were perhaps a hundred bricks, of uniform size, each one painted in bright colors with the names and treasures of lost loved ones.
“Place Joyce’s brick with the others, Scott.”
He did so, for the first time understanding what this exercise was all about.
Becky pointed to the third row.
“Those, right there in that line, are mine. My husband Eddie, my children Lisa and Johnny.
“I don’t know what became of their bodies. They were hauled away, like so many others, and only God knows where they wound up. I’ll never have a chance to visit their graves. So this is the next best thing.”
Scott looked at her and noticed she had tears in her eyes. He wished he could think of something to say.
“I come here at least once a day, during my coffee break. I talk to them. I tell them how proud I was of them then. How much I miss them now. I pray that they’re doing well and I promise them that we’ll all be together again someday.
“You’ll think I’m crazy, Scott. Heck, you probably already do. But when I’m here I somehow get the sense they’re here with me.
“And it’s not just me. The other nurses and doctors whose loved ones are there on those bricks have told me the same thing.
“Being here, even for just a few minutes, gives me peace of mind. It gives me a new perspective, and enables me to go on, even on my darkest days.
“Coming out here makes me realize it’s okay for me to go on living, even on the days when I feel somehow guilty for surviving when they didn’t.”
“I’m hoping that coming to this place, whenever you’re close by, will give you the same peace of mind it gives me and the others.
“I’m going to leave you now, and let you spend a few minutes alone with Joyce. You may see a couple of others standing at the doorway, waiting their turns to come out. Don’t let that bother you. We value individual privacy here. They’ll wait as long as they need to, so take your time. Stop by the nurse’s station on your way out and say goodbye. I’ll pour you another cup of coffee for the road.”
An Undeclared War (Countdown to Armageddon Book 4) Page 16