by Brad Kelln
After his last appointment, Jake had looked out the window and seen Friday afternoon gridlock on Lower Water Street. He had turned the radio on: a three-car pile up on the Macdonald Bridge had backed traffic up everywhere. Jake had two choices — sit in traffic or let the traffic sort itself out. The Old Triangle was a five-minute walk from the his office.
A visit to the pub served another function. It allowed him to unwind after a day full of patients. He refused to take home the tension and stress of his job. Better to take a thirty-minute break at the pub, avoid the traffic, and get home in a good mood.
Especially now.
Especially with Wyatt being sick.
Jake took his usual seat at the bar and ordered a Rickard’s Red.
“Hard day, boss?” the bartender asked. Even though he recognized Jake, they weren’t on a first-name basis. Jake had never offered his name. He didn’t like amateur psychologists.
“Same thing over and over.” Jake hated this kind of small talk. Sometimes, he felt like his entire job consisted of forcing small talk. Some sessions were so difficult. After work, the last thing he wanted to do was have an awkward conversation with the bartender.
“You must work around here,” the bartender concluded. “I’ve seen you in here a few times.”
It was hard for Jake not to roll his eyes. “Yep.”
The bartender had expected more. The guy obviously took it as a challenge to figure out his customers when they didn’t want to share.
“What do you do?” he pushed.
“Stool samples,” Jake said without cracking a smile.
“What’s that?”
“I work up in the hospital lab. I analyze stool samples. I sift through them and look for parasites and other abnormalities.”
The bartender obviously wanted to laugh. He wanted to share in the joke but was waiting for a sign that it actually was a joke. Jake looked completely serious.
The silence stretched until the bartender spoke again. “What kind of work is that? I mean, how do you like that?”
Jake looked at him, still not smiling. “I can honestly say it’s a shitty job most of the time.”
The bartender snorted but Jake just stared at him and nodded thoughtfully. Then he turned his attention to his beer, and the bartender slid away. I hope Wyatt’s going to be okay.
Jenna, Maria, and Karen sat in a booth at the back of the Old Triangle. There was a half-full pitcher of Alexander Keith’s beer on the table.
“You need to get back on the horse,” Maria announced.
“And hope he’s hung like one, too,” Karen giggled.
“You guys,” Jenna said. “Behave yourselves. We’re supposed to be respectable nurses.”
“Only when we’re on duty,” Karen answered. She took a pull from her mug.
“Do you have any prospects?” Maria asked.
“Honestly,” Jenna said, “I don’t want to talk about me all night. Let’s just have fun.”
“Talking about you is fun!” Karen laughed. She finished her beer and reached for the pitcher.
Jenna shook her head. She didn’t need pep talks. She’d matured past the point of needing to be in a relationship. She just wanted to be her own person for a while. She wanted to do her own things and not have to negotiate with a partner. She really wasn’t in the mood to have these two convince her she needed a man.
“What about a fling or two?” Maria asked with a curious smile.
“What makes you think I haven’t?”
“Oh.” Karen perked up. “Do tell.”
“I’m not saying I did and I’m not saying I didn’t.”
“Then you didn’t,” Karen said flatly.
“I don’t think you’re a fling kind of person,” Maria said, squinting at Jenna.
“Well, why’d you suggest the fling, then?”
“Ooh,” Karen breathed. “What about him?” She was looking at the bar. The restaurant was busy, but the bar was clear except for one lone man. “He’s kind of hunky.”
Maria and Jenna looked.
“I can’t really see his face,” Maria said.
“But he has nice hair,” Karen said. “And look at that butt.”
“You guys,” Jenna said, embarrassed.
A waiter set a large plate of chicken wings on the table. “This side is mild and this side is hot,” he said. “Do you ladies need anything else?”
Karen, grinning, motioned the waiter over. He bent toward her and she whispered, “We might need you to invite that sexy stranger at the bar to our table.”
The waiter straightened and laughed. “I’m afraid I can only get you what’s on the menu. Just let me know if you need anything else.” He headed to another table.
“You tit,” Jenna said, scowling at Karen.
“Yeah,” Maria said as if agreeing with Jenna. “Don’t invite him over until we get a look at his face.” She laughed.
“No problem,” Karen said. “Keep your eyes on him.”
The three women looked at him. “What are you going to do?” Jenna asked nervously.
“Hey guy!” Karen shouted, then looked away.
Maria and Jenna were still looking at him when he turned. They turned their heads quickly.
“You tit!” Jenna said again, trying not to smile at her friend’s brazenness.
“Well?” Karen asked. “Is he cute?”
Jenna said, “I think I know him.”
“What? Who is he?”
“I think he was a friend of someone I used to date a long time ago.”
“Who?” Maria and Karen asked in unison.
“Just a guy, back at university.”
“Not the guy?” Maria asked.
Jenna didn’t answer. She was pretty sure it was Jake.
“Is it the friend of the guy who left you to be a priest? That guy?”
It was. Jake Tunnel, Benicio’s best friend at Columbia. She knew he’d relocated to Nova Scotia but she’d never bumped into him. She wasn’t sure he’d remember her after all these years. And just this morning she’d been thinking about Benicio. What are the odds? Next thing you know I’ll be running into Benicio.
XXXVI
“How’s your stomach feel?” Jeremy asked, grinning.
“Asshole,” Maury snapped. “You know I’m going to have to change bandages all the time. It’s going to slow us down.”
Jeremy just smiled.
The two were traveling north in their rental car. For a Friday evening, traffic was light. After they left the Younger house they’d contacted the church, and the cardinal ordered them to pursue Benicio and the boy, who were traveling north. The brothers had no idea how Cardinal Espinosa got his information, but they had never known him to be wrong. Exitus acta probat, the old priest had mumbled on the phone. It meant nothing to them. They just did what they were told.
The satellite phone beeped on the backseat. Maury reached over and grabbed it.
“Hello.”
“Where are you?” Cardinal Espinosa barked.
“Headed north, out of Connecticut,” Maury answered.
“They may be heading to Canada. Stay on a direct path to the border. Contact me once you near the crossing. I will ascertain that they have crossed the border.”
“Yes sir.” He hesitated, then added, “Sir?”
“What?”
“What about Benicio?”
“He no longer serves the best interest of the faith. He stands in the way of your freedom and the continued health of the church. You may deal with him accordingly.”
Maury was surprised. Benicio was a highly trusted agent. “Should we speak to him first? Do you want us to find out his intentions?”
“I don’t wish him to further complicate the directives of the church, but if he will cooperate then so be it.” Cardinal Espinosa hung up.
Maury listened to the dead line for a moment then pushed the off button. He tossed the phone into the back.
“What’s up?” Jeremy asked, grinning. �
�Wrong number?”
“We’re supposed to head to Canada.”
“And?”
“And I doubt we’ll be bringing Father Valori back.”
Jeremy’s smirk faded but he nodded in resignation. They followed orders. That’s all they did.
XXXVII
The Izaak Walton Killam Children’s Hospital strategic plan included Saturday appointments — Jake had heard something about a commitment to reduce wait times and increase sensitivity to consumers. The strategic plan didn’t make it any easier to be sitting in a pediatric neurologist’s office on a Saturday morning.
“Thanks for seeing us today, Dr. Merrot,” Abby said as she took a seat.
Jake sat next to her, and they both looked across a wide desk at the gray-haired doctor. His round features and the reading glasses perched at the end of his nose gave him a slightly comical appearance, as if he were a caricature of the aging country doctor.
“Not at all,” Dr. Merrot said, his expression serious.
“So?” Abby asked. She wanted to get straight to business.
“And where is young master Wyatt today?”
“He’s at home with his sister,” Jake said. “We got a babysitter.”
Dr. Merrot nodded. “Fine, fine.”
“The tests?” Abby prompted. “What’d you find out?”
The doctor frowned. Jake felt as if he had a knife in his heart. He held his breath.
“Well, Wyatt’s going to need surgery,” Dr. Merrot said. “There’s no easy way to tell you. We’re going to need to do a little investigating.”
“Investigating what?” Abby asked. Her voice trembled, and Jake could hear the panic sneaking in. He put an arm across her shoulders.
“There’s no reason to think Wyatt isn’t going to pull through everything and be fine, so let’s stay positive,” Dr. Merrot said, and offered them a weak smile.
Jake knew the worse the news the more preparation there was. He wished the doctor would blurt it out.
“Wyatt has a tumor. We aren’t entirely sure about the size or the kind. It was difficult to find on the ct scan.”
“A tumor,” Abby whispered.
Jake gave her a little squeeze. Tumor was one of the words they didn’t want to hear. He bit his lip; he didn’t want to get emotional. He knew if he let Abby see him cry he would be useless to her.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean a whole lot just yet,” Dr. Merrot added quickly. “We need to take a biopsy and have a better look at its exact location.”
“What did you mean it was tricky to find?” Jake asked.
Dr. Merrot took a deep breath. “Well, not all tumors are encapsulated. Sometimes they branch out slightly and so aren’t as easy to detect. Wyatt’s tumor was spread thinly enough that it was difficult to find.”
“Will that make it more difficult to remove?” Abby asked quietly. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Dr. Merrot nodded. “There is that chance. With tumors that branch it is sometimes more difficult.”
“What’s the next step?” Jake asked. He wanted to keep the conversation moving forward so they could stay focused on action.
The doctor leaned his elbows on the desk. “We’d like to admit him as soon as possible. That will give us first crack at the next operating suite. We’re going to make Wyatt one of the hospital’s top priorities.”
In all likelihood, every doctor at the children’s hospital said this to every parent, but it still made Jake feel a little better. He wanted to think there was a team of doctors devoted to Wyatt, working around the clock to make him better.
“You mean today?” Abby asked. “Should we bring him down today?”
“Tomorrow would be fine,” Dr. Merrot said.
“How long will he be here?”
“I really can’t say. You should probably plan on at least all of next week. Possibly longer.”
The room was silent for a moment. The news was a weight that sank through Jake and kept pulling him further and further down. He was afraid to look at Abby. His eyes filled with tears as images of Wyatt played in his mind. Images of his son laughing and playing with his big sister. Images of him sitting on the couch playing video games.
“What are the risks?” Abby asked.
“There’s the normal risks associated with this type of surgery. Whenever you are dealing with the brain there are serious risks.”
“Brain damage? Death?” Abby asked. Panic was creeping into her voice. “Could he die?”
Dr. Merrot’s expression didn’t change. “Little Wyatt’s sick,” he said calmly. “We’ll need to do some surgery to help the guy get better. I’m afraid there aren’t any other options.”
Abby nodded, sniffed, and blew her nose.
“As you leave you can register Wyatt for his stay. That will make it quicker when you come tomorrow,” Dr. Merrot added. “The nursing station is just down the hall, and the nurses can help you. When you come tomorrow I hope to have a surgery time arranged. They’ll know at the desk.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Jake said. “Thanks for everything.” He stood and looked at his wife.
Abby also rose, and they left Dr. Merrot’s office.
XXXVIII
Benicio stood beside the car and watched the traffic moving through the customs booths. There was a steady lineup of cars going in and out of Canada.
He’d driven through the night, stopping only for gas, the washroom, and snacks. Matthew had had only a bag of Doritos and a small carton of chocolate milk. The rest of the time the boy slept.
Benicio wasn’t sure how they would get across the border; if the customs official asked for identification, he and Matthew would be detained.
They probably don’t even allow rental cars across the border without some special permit. They’ll probably stop us and search the vehicle.
Then Benicio noticed a lane dedicated to truckers, extra-wide and almost hidden by a parade of semitrailers. It gave him an idea. Not necessarily a good idea, but an idea nonetheless.
He turned to the car, opened the passenger door and crouched down.
“Hey,” he said quietly, “do you want to get out for a bit? Stretch your legs or go for a bathroom break?”
Matthew didn’t answer.
Benicio looked around. They were at the far end of the parking lot near the duty-free shop. The last chance to buy before crossing the border. He didn’t want people watching when he tried to deal with Matthew.
“Do you want to get out for a bit?” he asked again.
Matthew turned stiffly and swung his legs out of the car. Benicio backed away to give him room, and the boy stood on the pavement.
“There you go,” Benicio said warmly. “That must feel better.”
Matthew began walking toward the front of the vehicle.
“Do you want to use the washroom?” Benicio asked.
Matthew stopped in front of the car and undid his pants. He began urinating on the ground.
“Whoa,” Benicio called. “Che fai? What are you doing?”
A motor home pulled up near them, and a middle-aged man poked his head out the driver’s window. “Hey buddy, do you know a good place —” He stopped abruptly when he noticed Matthew. “Is that kid taking a leak right there?”
“I’m sorry. He’s a little different.”
“I’d say he’s a lot different,” the man said. “That boy’s too old to be pissin’ out here when the facility is just right on over there.”
“My apologies. My son is autistic.”
The man didn’t have a response to this. From somewhere inside the motor home, a voice yelled, “Leave the poor man alone and let’s get going!”
The motor home driver gave Matthew a disapproving frown, and the big vehicle drove away.
Matthew was doing up his pants. Benicio ran a hand through his hair. I need to find a phone, he thought. Time to call Jake.
XXXIX
Jake paid Becky, a shy fifteen year old and one of their best babysitters. She l
ived only a few doors down the street. Wyatt and Emily always reported having a wonderful time with her.
On the way home from the hospital, Jake and Abby agreed to be strong for the sake of the kids. It wasn’t fair to allow grown-up concerns to filter down to them.
But everything went out the window when Wyatt ran up to his mother. Abby scooped him up for a hug then started crying. Jake immediately sent Abby upstairs to collect herself, then dealt with the sitter.
Becky was a bright kid. She knew enough not to ask how the visit to the hospital had gone. She thanked Jake for her babysitting money and left.
Jake closed the door behind her then walked into the living room. Emily was sitting on the couch reading.
“Where’s Wyatt gone?” Jake asked.
“To his room. Playing video games, I think.”
“How’re you doing?”
“Good. What’s wrong with Mom?”
“Mom’s okay. It’s just tough sometimes.”
“What happened at the hospital? What’s wrong with Wyatt?”
“Oh, just some routine stuff. Some more tests and things. Wyatt’ll have to stay at the hospital for a bit. Nothing for you to worry about.” Jake wondered how much he should tell a seven year old. Emily was perceptive beyond her years, but it wasn’t just a matter of understanding; it was a matter of carrying a burden. A seven year old shouldn’t have to contemplate losing her little brother.
“He’s going into hospital?”
“Yep, but don’t worry about it. Everything is going to be fine.”
She made a funny face. “You’re the one who keeps saying I’m worried. That makes me more worried than anything.”
Jake grinned. She’s so smart. “Are you being sassy with me?” he asked in mock anger. “Do you want to suffer the wrath of the tickle monster?”
Her face lit up. Jake hunched over, wiggled his fingers menacingly, and moved close to her.
“Dad!” she screamed. “No!”
Jake kept wiggling his fingers. “I can’t stop it!”
Emily dropped her book and jumped to her feet. “No!” she pleaded, laughing.
Jake lunged at her. “Must … tickle … sassy … girl.”