A Special Man

by Billie Green

  Danny stared at the horizon. "I don't like him. He's..." He frowned and she knew he was trying to reach for a word, a thought. It hurt to see the frustration in his face.

  It was so wrong, she thought. She simply refused to believe Danny couldn't be helped with therapy. She knew that Ted had told her, but doctors had been known to make mistakes. Danny was a special case. He was different. There was something below the surface that needed exploring, something...

  Suddenly Amanda felt weak as the truth hit her like a tidal wave. She believed he was different because she wanted it to be so. Because she loved him. Not as she would love a child but as she could love a man.

  My God! she thought weakly. It couldn't be happening. She had known she was too involved; she had known it for days. But the possibility that she could be falling in love with him had never occurred to her. Not even when she admitted she had never in her life been as happy as when she was with Danny.

  She pushed her hands roughly through her dark hair. What was she going to do? What could she do? She needed to think.

  "I wish—"

  She glanced at Danny to find him staring at her, his gray eyes brooding. "What do you wish, Danny?"

  "I wish it was all different."

  "Different how?"

  He shook his head. "I don't know. I wish I weren't me or you weren't you." He sat up abruptly. "I said we were alike, but we're not. You and Dr. Sutherland are alike."

  He had said aloud what she had not been able to admit even to herself. There was a dividing wall between them. An insurmountable wall. Racial, social, religious barriers were nothing compared to the barrier between them.

  He stood up and for a moment his eyes met hers, then he glanced away quickly. But not quickly enough. Amanda had seen and recognized the hopelessness in his eyes. It was the same hopelessness she felt in her heart.

  "Oh, Danny," she whispered as she watched him walk away from her. "What are we going to do now?"

  Chapter Six

  It was only two days later that Amanda heard about Maribel Fortnoy.

  As usual, Ginny had come in to spend her morning coffee break in Amanda's office. Amanda, preoccupied as she was with her relationship with Danny, only half listened to the nurse's bits of gossip. It took her a while to sense a restlessness in her friend.

  "Is something bothering you?" she asked.

  Ginny set down her cup. "Sometimes I don't know why I ever became a nurse. Why couldn't I have chosen something dull—like prostitution or bomb control? Anything would be better than this."

  "You really are upset," Amanda said in surprise, "What's wrong?"

  "Oh, I don't know," she said in exasperation. "I seem to be in a mood lately. Everything gets to me. Now we've been asked to double Maribel's medication, and it just seemed like the last straw."

  Amanda glanced up from her coffee. The tone of Ginny's voice should have warned her, but it didn't. It simply sounded like nurse talk.

  "I hate it when they get worse," Ginny said, pushing her hair back with a careless hand. "It's bad enough with a regular patient, but when it's one of the Special Ones, Dr. Sutherland takes it hard."

  Now she had Amanda's complete attention. "What's wrong with Maribel? I didn't even know she was sick. When her niece was here yesterday, she looked fine." Amanda thought of the older woman as she had seen her the day before, all pink and white ruffles, a smear of chocolate on her chin. "I don't like her niece," Amanda added, frowning. "She was abrupt with Maribel. I know Maribel's a pain sometimes, but that's no excuse for rudeness."

  Ginny nodded her agreement. "I didn't care much for her either, but that won't keep her from getting all of poor old Maribel's money when she dies." She gave Amanda a significant look. "The niece is her only relative."

  "Is there a chance of that happening?" Amanda asked, shocked somehow at the thought of it.

  Ginny shrugged. "She's not good. She's given all the nurses hell, but I hate to see her get sick. Dr. Sutherland ordered her medication doubled this morning...that's always a bad sign." She sighed. "That poor man. He gets involved with all his patients. But especially the ones with Sutherland's Complex."

  Amanda had seen no evidence of that herself. In fact, beneath the surface, he seemed to be a rather cold man. But it wasn't Amanda's place to burst Ginny's bubble.

  "He takes it as a personal failure when something happens to them because it's his specialty," Ginny continued.

  "Well," Amanda said as she picked up her coffee cup, "let's just hope she gets better."

  But she didn't. The next morning, the word went around in whispers as though it were a mysterious disease that would somehow spread if spoken of aloud—Maribel was failing.

  During her morning break Amanda made her way to B-North to see Maribel for herself. She walked into the older woman's room, nodding to the nurse who sat beside the bed. The room was dim, but there was enough light for her to see that the whispers had been true. The woman on the bed was an empty shell. She looked directly at Amanda, but there was no recognition in her pale eyes.

  "Maribel?" Amanda said softly.

  "She won't know you," the nurse said, her voice subdued. "She's already gone past that. Last night she lost control of her movements and her bodily functions. I'm afraid she hasn't got long."

  How could it happen so fast? Amanda wondered, rubbing her temple as she turned to leave the room. Dying shouldn't happen this quickly if it wasn't through violence. Disease should linger and give one time to get used to it.

  She couldn't get Maribel out of her mind, even when she met Danny at the stables. As though sensing her mood, he set a frantic pace. They rode hard and fast, and at times she felt they were trying to outrun fate,

  By the time they dismounted beside the woods, Amanda felt less restless, but it was only as they walked through the woods that she actually felt peace return.

  "Do you ever get scared?" Danny asked suddenly.

  "All the time, Danny," she said quietly. "All the time." She glanced at him in concern. "Why do you ask? Has something scared you?"

  "It isn't something exactly. Sometimes... not any special time, just sometimes, I feel funny. Dizzy or something—I can't explain—and... and I know something is wrong, and I can't tell what it is." He glanced at her. "They said Mrs. Fortnoy is dying."

  "And hearing that made you feel the strange way?"

  "Not exactly. It just makes me remember those times. And I don't want to remember them. I want to pretend they never happen."

  "Come on, let's sit down." They walked down a slope toward a pond and lay propped up on their elbows as they watched the ducks.

  "My father used to tell me a story," she said, smiling as she sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs. "I remember the first time he told it—I must have been about five at the time—and in the middle of the night I woke up from a nightmare with my heart pounding like it wanted to get oat of my chest. I ran down the hall to my parents' bedroom." She laughed. "Oh, how I begged to sleep with them. Just this one time, I said. But my father wouldn't let me. He sat on the side of the bed with me on his lap, and he made me tell him all about the dream. It was full of shadows and robbers and dragons that especially like to eat five-year-old girls."

  Danny smiled slightly, his eyes trained on her face as she continued. "When I finished, he told me a story about a little girl who was afraid. Not just of dragons but of everything. She hid in a box because inside she felt safe; she had definite boundaries, and she could see into every corner. Nothing could get her there." She glanced at Danny. "At the age of five that didn't sound so bad. But then he started to tell me what else couldn't get into the box. Things like laughter and sunshine and love. Nothing new and exciting could happen because nothing could get in. Then he told me something I'll never forget. He said, 'Amanda, nothing in the world is as bad as being afraid—no dragons, no monsters, no shadows. You've got to turn on what frightens you. That way you control the fear instead of letting it control you. Confront the dragon, baby. A
lways confront the dragon.'"

  She picked up Danny's hand. "I've been afraid a lot of times since then, Danny. But I always remember what he told me. I've found out that fear is a diminishing emotion. It makes you seem less in your own eyes. So let's make a pact. When either one of us gets scared we'll find the other, and we'll confront the dragon together."

  He stared down at her silently for a long time, then he said, "I love you so much, Mandy."

  Her breath caught in her throat. "I love you too, Danny," she whispered hoarsely.

  Later that same afternoon, Amanda heard that Maribel Fortnoy was dead. She had known since her visit that it would come, but still it was a shock. She had never felt this particular helplessness, the frustration that death brought to the survivors. It left her restless. Dinner was out of the question, and she couldn't stand the thought of going to her room.

  Maribel's file would have to be closed sooner or later, she thought as she shifted in the leather chair behind her desk. And there were insurance papers to be taken care of. Now was as good a time as any to tackle it all.

  But when she went to the file cabinet and began going through the files, Maribel's was not among them. Muttering in annoyance, Amanda went to the nurses' station.

  "Ginny," she called as she saw the nurse leaving. "I can't find Maribel's file. Was it kept somewhere else?"

  "Not the financial records," Ginny said, frowning. "Her medical file is in the basement along with the other Special Ones. Dr. Sutherland keeps them there so that when he's working in the lab, he can pull them and compare them to his notes. The financial records are supposed to be in your office." She grimaced. "Lord, I hope Maxi hasn't screwed up again. If she stuck financial records in with the medical file, it could be the last straw."

  Amanda shook her head. "There's no need for anyone to know. I'll simply go to the lab and cheek."

  Ginny leaned against the wall, scratching her chin thoughtfully. "I'm afraid you can't do that. The laboratory and the file cabinet are both kept locked. Danny's and Maribel's medical records are always filed at the end of the day by Oates, the warden. Other than Dr. Sutherland, she's the only one who has the keys."

  "But wouldn't she have noticed if a financial file was in there also?" Amanda asked.

  "Are you kidding?" Ginny gave her a skeptical glance. "She only knows how to run this place. She would think it was beneath her to know about the files. She only takes care of them because it shows her authority—the Keeper of the Keys."

  "All the files should be color-coded to keep mistakes like this from happening," Amanda said as she rubbed the back of her aching neck. "But I'm afraid that won't help Maxi right now. What a mess."

  "Look," Ginny said, glancing around furtively, "I know where Oates keeps the keys. If you'll meet me in the basement, we can check the files and straighten them out without anyone knowing about it."

  Amanda agreed readily, and later she arrived at the lab door just ahead of Ginny. "Thank goodness the warden was having her tea," Ginny said, unlocking the door. She handed Amanda the keys as they walked inside. "It's the small one. I'm going to check on a couple of the animals."

  Ted's laboratory, covering the entire basement, was just as enormous, just as elaborate as Ginny had said.

  Baffling machines and gadgets sat around on gleaming white counters. Along one wall was a row of cages containing, from what Amanda could see, monkeys and white rats.

  The file cabinet was in one corner of the huge room, along with a small metal desk. Walking to the cabinet, Amanda unlocked it, feeling like a cat burglar as she began to go through the files.

  "Egan... Everett... Falcon," she murmured, laying the keys on the top as she came to the right file. "Fortnoy."

  She began to pull it out, but it was wedged up against the others and two more came with it. At that moment one of the monkeys screeched, causing her to jump skittishly. All three files fell to the floor.

  "Oh, great," she muttered to herself. "Some great burglar you'd make."

  Kneeling, she gathered up the papers, glancing through them to make sure they went back into the right folders. Suddenly her eye caught something in one of the files. Frowning, she looked at the other one and checked it also.

  Standing abruptly, the papers she had held fell unheeded to the floor as she began going through the files in the cabinet. Her movements were awkward, becoming frantic as she checked file after file.

  Suddenly she stopped and leaned against the cold metal cabinet. Her face was gray as she stood there trying to still the tremors that shook her from within.

  Turning slowly, she walked toward Ginny, her movements stiff and mechanical. Ginny turned with a smile that died suddenly as she stared at Amanda. "What's wrong?"

  Amanda closed her eyes and swallowed. "All those patients... those are the ones with Sutherland's Complex, is that right?"

  Ginny nodded, her expression puzzled.

  "There must be twenty, twenty-five files there, covering a seven-year period."

  "Yes."

  "Ginny...they all died," she whispered hoarsely. "Every one of them died."

  Ginny sank back against the counter. "God, Amanda, I thought you knew. I'm sorry."

  "Tell me."

  "The Special Ones all die within two to two and a half years of developing the first symptoms. It would be a lot quicker if Dr. Sutherland hadn't discovered the drug we give them. What happened to Maribel would happen within weeks if left on its own."

  It was too much. The room swam crazily around her; gravity pulled at her. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to remain upright.

  Danny was going to die.

  Chapter Seven

  Amanda held on to the spotless white laboratory counter, trying to get the feel of something solid. Don't let me scream, she begged silently against the pain in her chest.

  "Amanda?" Ginny was staring at her curiously. "I asked if you found the file."

  Amanda shook her head. "No," she said, her voice sounding rough to her own ears. "No, it wasn't there."

  She turned and walked out. In her room, she lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The whole thing had a feeling of fantasy about it. It couldn't be happening. Danny was so young and strong. He simply couldn't be dying.

  "God!" she cried aloud. The word was an exhortation; it was an angry plea, a shaken fist. But there was a wall of glass between her and God. She knew he was there, but she couldn't reach him. So she lay alone through the long night, falling into a restless sleep only when the first lifting of the darkness was visible through the window.

  When she awoke, the weight of her discovery made her weary before she had even begun the day. She went through her work in a daze. When it was time to meet Danny, Amanda pushed back her chair with mechanical movements and walked out of Greenleigh toward the edge of the woods.

  She saw him long before he saw her and couldn't take her eyes off him. She watched him, loving him, and today the loving had an acute feel to it, a painful, sharp edge.

  "You're sad," he said in his soft, deep voice, his eyes sad for her as he watched her approach.

  She felt tears surface and looked away, avoiding his caring gaze. "There are some days when you just wake up sad." She glanced at him to find him nodding in understanding. "I always tell myself that those sad days are mourning days. Days that we feel all the suffering in the world. We don't realize it, but since we're all a part of man, we have to share the pain sometimes."

  "That makes it more important, doesn't it? I like the way you say it. That means... It's like..." She could see his hands clench into fists as he fought the hesitation. "You feel sad for no reason, or sad just because no one will even let you choose what shirt you want to put on." He exhaled and shook his head. "I can't say it right."

  "No, I know what you mean. You said it just fine." She bit her lip. He felt guilty because he minded that the people here had taken away his freedom of choice, his dignity as a human being. Amanda felt the sadness slip away, and a welcome rush of
anger took its place. Even though his surroundings were plush and his every need attended to, Danny had been dehumanized. The whole thing stank.

  They began to walk, and today she steered him away from the place by the stream. She didn't think she could stand it. Not now, not so soon.

  On the trail, they ran into John and stopped to talk. After a moment, Danny moved away to watch a group of noisy birds. Amanda stared after him, barely hearing what the old man beside her was saying.

  "What's wrong, Amanda?" John said, breaking a silence she hadn't realized had fallen.

  She turned back to look at him, her eyes stormy. "He's going to die" she said, the words erupting angrily as though they had been just below the surface. "I just found out, and it hurts so bad, John. I know it's wrong, but I feel like he's going to die a prisoner."

  "It's not wrong," he said, staring after Danny. "Danny and I have both been left here to die. People don't like death, even the nicest people. They hide it away so they won't have to look at it. They don't want to be reminded that someday it will happen to them, too." He stooped to pick a weed. "I've had enough. I thought I could stand it to make my daughter feel better, but I can't. She's young. She'll have to work out her problems, her guilt on her own."

  He paused and glanced up at the blue sky. "I'm leaving here. I'm going to find a place where I can participate in life again. If I could, I'd take Danny with me. We both need out of this velvet zoo."

  She stared at John for a moment, then put her arms around him. "Good luck, John J. Pike."

  Danny came back as John walked away. "Why were you hugging John J. Pike?"

  "He's going to live somewhere else," she said. "Somewhere where there are no gourmet meals, no designer drapes—and no walls."

  She wished it could be the same for Danny. She wished they could go somewhere where he could be free. Free to die with dignity.

  Several days later, a thought came to her in the middle of a sleepless night. Why not? the voice said slyly. Why shouldn't she take Danny away and make what was left of his life happy?