“You want something?!”
“No, guess not.”
He wasn't sure what to do.
“Then beat it, and try not to do anything stupid!”
Benny swore at her and got back in his car. He had places to go and money to burn. He drove off without looking back.
*
Stan was waiting for his sister’s call.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Stan. On my way north, everything went smoothly.”
“Good, let me know when you hit town. I'll set up the delivery.”
They hung up and Stan called the Duncan’s.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Katie?”
“Yes?”
“This is Zeb Johnson. I am calling to arrange the appointment to drop off your new baby.”
“Really? Great, when?”
“Tomorrow afternoon okay?”
“Sure, what time?”
“Say four?”
“Great, see you then.” She hung up and called Wade, then her mom.
When she hung up with her mom, she looked at the living room. Their baby was coming home and that called for a celebration. A party was in order.
*
Blue balloons were hung from every light fixture, railing, and picture frame available. There were white streamers running back and forth across the ceiling in the living room. A table was set up in the room's center with plates, forks, and a large blue and white cake. On the cake were three words.
“Welcome home, Jack”, Katie read aloud to herself.
Shirley smiled.
“It was very sweet of you to name him after his grandfather; I am sure he's smiling down proudly from above.”
“It just felt right.”
Katie reached over to hug her mother. Wade was on the other side of the table and watched as the two shared somewhere between the tenth and twentieth hug today. Not that he minded; he had gotten his share, as well.
There was a knock and they all stopped. Staring at the door, nobody moved. Wade wasn't sure anyone was breathing. They stood frozen until Shirley finally broke the silence.
“Are you going to get it, Wade?”
He snapped out of it and rushed to the door. When he opened it, there stood the lawyer with the baby—their baby—wrapped in a blanket. Wade was sure he stopped breathing this time. My son.
“Come in, come in.”
Zeb came through the door and walked towards Katie. Katie was frozen in place, her eyes glued to the little bundle in the lawyer's arms. When he got to her, he reached out and gently laid the baby in her arms. Katie just stood staring down at the tiny bundle. When she looked up, Wade was watching her, tears running down his face.
Shirley stood looking over Katie's shoulder.
“Welcome, Jack. Aren't you a doll?”
Zeb pulled out a folder of papers and gave them to Wade.
“Do you have my clients’ check?”
Wade reached over to the desk and retrieved the check.
“Please tell your clients, again, how much we appreciate their sacrifice.”
“I will. I assure you that they did what they felt was best for the child.”
He turned and walked back to the door.
“I must go. They're waiting for me to notify them that the baby is safe. I wish you all the best.”
The door shut and then it was just them. A family. Not Wade and Katie and Shirley, but Dad and Mom and Grandma. Baby Jack had just changed the way they saw themselves forever.
Chapter 4
Michael Barton sat in the doctor's office, staring out the window. Large oak trees shaded the parking lot outside. People came and went, any one of whom might know something about what happened to his son. It had been two and a half years since their son had been taken, and it still consumed his thoughts on a daily basis. The police were no closer to finding him today than they had been on that awful afternoon.
He and Tammy had been cleared early on. What followed were searches of ponds, woods, and dumpsters. They didn't say it, but he knew that they were looking for a body. He couldn't accept that. He felt that his son was still alive; he knew it inside. He was the only one. Even Tammy had seemed to give up all hope.
He and Tammy had been trying for another child for the last year and a half with no luck, so Tammy had gone to the doctor. It had been a normal check-up with a pap smear, but the doctor's response had been unsettling. Instead of the standard letter saying everything was fine, they had received an ominous call asking them to make an appointment with a Dr. Sanders.
Dr. Sanders was an oncologist.
“What's an oncologist?” Tammy had asked him.
“It's a cancer doctor.”
“Oh,” was all she said, and then dialed the number that had been left with the message.
Her reaction still haunted him. She didn't seem surprised, or even upset. He, on the other hand, was shocked. It never occurred to him that them not getting pregnant could be the result of something as serious as cancer.
She had wanted to go to the first appointment alone, saying it was just a bunch of testing, but he wouldn't hear of it. She turned out to be right; they didn't talk to the doctor for more than a few minutes, but the tests had gone on for hours.
Today, they were back to hear the results. He heard someone come in, and turned to see the serious face of Dr. Jim Sanders. They shook hands and the doctor slid behind the desk. Opening a file he had been carrying with him, he looked up at Michael and Tammy. He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.
“I'm afraid the news is not good.” He paused and shifted again.
“You have ovarian cancer, and it has spread.”
There was silence for several minutes. Michael reached over and took Tammy's hand.
“What do we do to treat it?” he asked.
“Our options are limited, I'm afraid. Surgery will be pointless, as the cancer has metastasized. Chemo is one option. It is unlikely to stop it, at best, maybe slow it down.”
“What about radiation?” Michael pressed.
“Radiation is a possibility, but it, too, will likely only delay the outcome. I'm afraid that, short of a miracle, the cancer is terminal.”
Michael's anger flared. Not just at the doctor or the cancer, but all of it. His son was gone, they couldn't have more kids, and now he was being told that their life together was over. Michael lurched to his feet.
“That's not good enough!! What else?”
“Please, Mr. Barton. Sit down. Believe me, I am telling you the truth. The cancer is too far along for the treatments we have available these days. I'm sorry.”
Michael paced the office.
“What about trials, drug testing? Aren’t there things like that that she can try?”
“I did some research last night and there are no trials going on that are suitable for Tammy.”
“How much time would chemo give her?”
“Well, it's hard to...”
Tammy had not said a word, and sitting stiffly in her chair, she didn't even appear to be paying attention.
“No,” she said quietly. “I'm not going through that to gain a couple weeks or months.”
Michael stopped and stared at his wife. She was focused on Dr. Sanders.
“Unless you can tell me that it will be cured or will buy me years, I won't do it.”
“But Tammy...” Michael began.
“No, Michael, I will not go through that. I've seen what it's like.”
She was still staring at the doctor.
“Well, Doc, does it have that potential?”
“To buy you years or cure you?”
Tammy nodded her head at him.
“Well, anything is possible, but...no, probably not.” He shrugged his shoulders.
Michael slumped back into his chair. He had lost his only son and now his wife was going to be taken from him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. The injustice ate at his very soul. Something welled up in him. He didn't know if it was the a
nger and frustration or something else, something darker, stronger. He wouldn't accept what was happening. He couldn't.
He knew the reason his wife wouldn't fight the disease was because of their son. She had not been the same woman since that day. She'd lost her desire to take part in everyday life and seemed to just drift along.
The only fire he saw in her was when Detective Jason Strong would call with updates. She would get excited when she saw the number on the caller ID, and then she would sink back into depression when there was nothing new.
Dr. Sanders went on to discuss the path the disease would take and what steps could be taken to ease Tammy's suffering. He gave her four to six months. Michael looked at a calendar on the wall. Four to six months. Four months was the three-year anniversary of the kidnapping.
The rest of the appointment was a blur. He asked questions, but couldn't remember the answers. When they were done, he helped his wife up and out to the car. There were no words between them on the way home, but Michael was sure that his wife looked at peace. She looked as if a weight had been removed, not as if a death sentence had been delivered.
He didn't feel peace. He felt like he was dying inside, leaving an empty hole where his soul was. And he felt something else. A darkness was creeping in and filling the void. He sensed dark days ahead.
*
There was another blue and white cake on the table at Katie and Wade Duncan's house. This time it read: ‘Welcome Home, Jesse’. The house seemed as if it would lift off at any time because of the number of balloons hung around the walls.
“When's baby coming?”
Jack was standing on the couch, looking out the front window.
“Soon, Jack.”
Shirley ruffled her grandson's hair. Now her oldest grandson, she realized. She had a youngest and an oldest now, with the birth of Jesse.
It had been a wonderful three years with Jack, and the news that Katie was pregnant again had only added to it.
There seemed to be no fear this time and Dr. Phelps had even suggested that the adoption of Jack might have relaxed Katie enough that there wouldn't be any more problems. He was right. Jesse had come on time and the delivery had gone smoothly.
“They’re here!”
Jack jumped down, ran to the door, and pulled it open. Katie led the way, carrying a little bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. Wade followed with a diaper bag and gifts. When everyone was inside, Katie sat on the couch so that Jack could see his new little brother. Jack's eyes were glued to the little baby. He reached out and touched Jesse's tiny hand, and giggled when Jesse pulled it away. All of a sudden, Shirley saw Jack sit up, as if remembering something.
“Cake now?”
Laughter filled the house.
“Yes, Jack, cake now.”
*
Throughout the afternoon, friends stopped by to see the new baby and visit. There were more gifts and lots of pictures. The whole time, Jack played the big brother, telling everyone who came to see the baby that “his name is Jesse.” By the end of the evening, Katie was exhausted, and bedtime brought relief for everyone.
Wade tucked Jack in and sat on the side of the bed. They said their prayers, including a special one for Jesse. As Wade stared down at his son, he could tell that a question was forming. Jack always got that look of concentration when he was wondering something.
“What is it, Jack?”
“Will he get big like me?”
Wade grinned and kissed his son's forehead.
“Yup, and you and he will be best buddies.”
Jack liked the idea.
“Best buddies,” he repeated, and closed his eyes.
Katie was waiting for Wade at the bedroom door. Together, they looked back at Jack. He had made all the difference in their lives. He had made them a family. Now Jesse was here. Wade kissed her, and seemed to read her mind.
“Those people will never know what they did for us, will they?”
“No, but I wish they could.”
*
Three months had passed since Dr. Sanders had given Michael and Tammy Barton the news. Michael had never really recovered from the loss of his son, and he still hoped that someday he would be returned to them. Tammy had given up hope that she would ever see her son again, and her decline from the cancer was faster than even the doctor had expected.
Michael knew it was because she had lost the will. The will to keep looking, keep hoping, keep fighting. She stirred slightly in her hospital bed, and he realized she was looking at him.
“You okay? The pain meds helping?”
She nodded and pointed at the water pitcher. He got up and filled her water bottle, placing the straw to her lips when he was done. She smiled a thank you and rolled over. She was back asleep in moments.
Michael sat back down in the chair he had spent most of the last week in. They were in a semi-private room, but there was no one in the other bed. The woman who had been there had passed away two days ago. He had been glad that Tammy was asleep at the time. He didn't want to be looking into her eyes as they both thought the same thing: soon.
The TV had been on the Weather Channel constantly, but only as background noise. It didn't seem to matter how hot it was outside or if it was going to rain. Michael sat staring at the screen without seeing.
*
There was a commotion in the hall outside of Tammy's room. Michael got up to see what was going on and found a man, in cuffs, being dragged down the hall by two officers. Holding one arm was a uniformed officer, and the other was Detective Jason Strong.
“Jason, Jason. What's going on?”
The detective recognized Michael.
“Michael, this is the man who took your son. We got a tip and found him here at the hospital.”
Michael couldn't believe his ears.
“Where's my son?”
“We don't know yet; we're taking him downtown for questioning.”
Michael looked at the man that Jason was leading out of the hospital, and his anger took hold. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a knife, charging the cuffed man.
He stabbed him repeatedly in the back, jabbing the knife in over and over again. Blood spurted up his arms as panic set in around him. People were screaming his name.
“Michael...Michael!”
Michael nearly jumped out of his seat as he awoke with a start, looking around to see Tammy watching him.
“Yea...yea, you all right?”
“Yes, can I have some more water?”
He put the straw to her mouth again and sat back down.
“I guess I dozed off.” He rubbed his eyes.
“You must have been dreaming, because you were kicking your feet in the air!”
She smiled weakly as she said it. Michael had always kicked wildly in his sleep and they had taken to sleeping in separate beds.
He leaned forward to take her hand.
“You need anything?”
“Yes, I want to ask you something.” She paused to catch her breath.
“Anything.”
“If you ever see our son again, will you tell him I love him?'
Michael nodded and gave her a smile, but inside he was breaking apart.
“Of course.”
Frustration boiled inside him. He hadn't protected his son, and now he couldn't save his wife. It wasn't fair. The anger that had burned in him since the days after his son was taken threatened to take control. He would find the son-of-a-bitch who was responsible and there would be payback for all the pain. He promised himself the kidnapper would pay.
His dream had been disturbing, but even more disturbing was how good it had felt. He could imagine himself doing it for real. That was something he never thought he would be capable of. He could tell now that he was not only capable, but wanted to
.
*
A few months later, Michael found himself sitting beside her bed again, but this time they were in a nursing home. Tammy was on feeding tubes and no longe
r knew Michael was even there. The weeks since Tammy had gone into a coma had been filled with plans to somehow find the one responsible for his son’s disappearance. The heart monitor started to beep. It was a long, steady droning, and Michael knew she was gone. He didn't run to get doctors. He knew she wanted to be gone. He wished he could be gone, too.
A nurse rushed in and turned off the beeping but she didn't call for help. Tammy had made it clear not to try to resuscitate her when she went. A doctor came in and checked her vitals, looked at her pupils, and declared Tammy deceased.
Michael stood staring out the window while people moved around him in the room. All he felt now was hate. Hate for whoever had taken his son. Hate for every couple that would grow old together. Most of all, he hated the pain. It ate at his insides and left him short of breath. Somehow, he had to get rid of the pain. He heard the nurse say something. When he turned around, Tammy was already gone from the room.
“Take as long as you need,” the nurse said “I'll be at the desk.”
Michael nodded and turned back to the window.
Somewhere out there was his son. The only connection he had left to Tammy.
And now, he had a message to deliver. A promise to keep. He would not give up.
*
A steady rain fell on the proceedings at Oakcrest Cemetery. Detective Jason Strong stood across from Michael Barton, who was seated next to the grave of his wife. He saw no life in Michael's eyes, and it worried him. They looked like shark eyes: cold and dead. The last three years had brought Jason close to the Barton's. He had done everything in his power to try and track down their son. So far, it hadn't been enough. He refused to give up hope, and he had called the Barton’s regularly to tell them that he hadn't forgotten or that he was looking into a new lead, whenever one would surface.
Michael had called him when he had learned that Tammy was sick. Jason had listened, but he didn't try to make Michael feel better. He thought of his own wife, Sandy, and how he would feel about such news. He couldn't fathom it. He had met Michael a couple of times for a beer, and he sensed that Michael was headed for a dark place.
Where's My Son? Page 4