“Well, at some point we’ll have to make a decision about the desirability of perpetuating life support.”
“It’s too soon for that.”
“I agree. But … you might be thinking about it, just the same.”
The silence seemed interminable. He had almost moved on when he heard: “Thank you, Doctor. Now, if you don’t mind …”
“Of course. If there’s anything I can do …”
“Actually, there is. Do you know of a place nearby where I could get a harmonica?”
“A harmonica? May I ask why?”
“I’m going to play Bobby Darin songs. You know—like ‘Mack the Knife.’ I know it seems crazy. But he likes them.”
He had expected everything to be white, all white, but was pleased to find instead that it was a vivid Kodachrome green. It was a forest, deep and impenetrable and alive, just like the one he had played in as a boy behind his grandmother’s house in Arkansas. In fact, it was the one he had played in as a boy behind his grandmother’s house in Arkansas.
Never mind that his grandmother was long since dead, that the property had been sold, and that the forest had been clear-cut by a major lumber company. It was here, and he was in it.
“Be-en! Are you ready?”
He turned and saw her running toward him, weaving expertly between the trees, pigtails flying. It was his sister, Julia, except she was only nine years old. Come to notice, he was only eleven himself.
He remembered this summer. His parents had gone abroad for some Mediterranean cruise, and he and Julia had stayed with their grandmother, playing, drinking lemonade, basking in the sun. This was before puberty, before adolescence, before college and husbands and broken promises. This was back when the world was about lightning bugs and comic books and blindman’s buff, and he and Julia had been the two best friends in the entire world.
“Are you ready?” she asked breathlessly.
“I am,” he said. He wondered what they were going to do this afternoon.
“Where’s the first clue?”
Ah, a treasure hunt. Ben had prepared dozens of elaborate treasure hunts for his younger sister, with clues sending her far and wide across the property until at last she reached the Snickers bar buried at the final destination.
He handed her a scrap of paper. She unfolded it eagerly and read: “ ‘Not C, nor D, nor E, F, G, H, I. To the home of the traveler you must now fly’ ”
She peered up at him, confused, thinking it over. The sunlight made her freckles appear golden. “Traveler? You mean Mom and Dad. But they’re—”
All at once she beamed. “No, you mean the bird’s nest.” Yesterday, during their exploration of the forest, they had discovered a blue jay’s nest on a high branch of an old oak tree. They had watched it for almost an hour. They didn’t disturb anything. They just watched, watched the mother care for her hatchlings, watched her bring them grubs and bugs to eat.
“I get it.” The pride of solution made her face glow. “Not C, D, E, F, G, H, or I because they’re blue jays.”
She raced toward the old oak tree with Ben close behind. At the base, she stopped unexpectedly, pushed up on her tiptoes, and kissed Ben on the cheek. “You make the very best ever treasure hunts, Ben.” Her eyes were wide with excitement and admiration. “I hope this goes on forever.”
Ben watched as she shimmied up the tree, his eyes brimming with tears. I hope it does, too, he thought.
Ben?
What? What? Why was she interrupting?
“Ben, this is Nurse Tucker. You can call me Angela. I’m here to take care of you. Whatever you need, I’m here to provide.”
Go away, he thought. I don’t want to be bothered.
“ ’Course, it’s going to be hard for you to tell me what you want, since you’re not talking. Tell you what. You just think about whatever it is you want, and I’ll see if I can’t figure it out.”
He heard footsteps moving around the bed, surveying the situation.
“Sheets all appear to be properly tucked and folded. Your IV bag is filled. Respirator seems to be working normally. All outward appearances are A-OK.” There was a pause, and the voice drew closer. “What I’m more concerned about is what’s going on inside.”
He sensed her presence more than felt it. Was it the shadow, the warmth? Somehow, he knew she was drawing near.
“Ben, listen to me. I know it may be very … peaceful where you are right now. Very tranquil. It must be tempting to just stay there. But, Ben, you’re needed here. By your friends, your loved ones. All the people you’ve helped. And the however many more you could help in the future. If you come back.”
Yes, yes, no doubt. May I go now?
At the end of the summer, Ben’s parents arrived to collect their children. Julia met them both at the door, wrapped her arms around them, and smothered them with hugs and kisses. Young Ben stood by himself in the corner of the room.
His father noticed. He pulled a small package out of his coat pocket. “Hey, Ben. I have a present for you.”
Ben glanced up, then looked back down at the floor. He didn’t budge.
His mother, peering over Julia’s shoulder, frowned. “Benjamin?” She exchanged a glance with her husband. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know.” He walked over to Ben and laid his hand on Ben’s back. “Perhaps we should have a private talk.”
He escorted Ben into one of the back bedrooms and shut the door. “All right, son. Let’s have it.”
Ben twitched uncomfortably but didn’t say anything.
“Come on, now. I’ve seen that guilt-ridden expression before. Tell me what you’ve done.”
Ben’s mouth was so dry he could barely speak. “You remember … before you left you lent me your pocket knife.”
“Of course. My top-of-the-line Swiss Army knife. Bought that thing in Zurich when I was just a college kid.”
“You said I could use it if”—he coughed, sputtered—“… if I promised to take care of it.”
His father looked down at him sternly. “Ye-es …”
Ben reached into his pocket and held out the knife. It was rusted and faded; one of the blades was bent. “I left it out in the rain.”
His father nodded gravely. “I see. So that’s what this is all about.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You see your parents for the first time in three months, but you can’t enjoy it because you know you’ve done something bad. Is that about it?”
Ben brought his head up. His eyes were wide and scared. “Are you going to … to punish me?”
“Yes, Ben, I’m afraid I am.”
Ben threw his head down dejectedly. “You must hate me.”
“Whoa, boy. Wait just a minute.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, scooped Ben up, and sat him down on his lap. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea here. Sure, I’m going to punish you. How else would you learn not to do things like that? But that doesn’t mean I hate you. Just the opposite. You’re still my boy, no matter what you do.”
He put a finger under Ben’s chin and lifted it till their eyes met. “Understand that? Doesn’t matter what you do or say. Doesn’t matter what I do or say. You’re my boy, and you always will be. Got it?”
Ben was so overcome he threw his arms around his father and hugged him tightly. Of course, he thought. This is how it was. This is what I should remember.
Tears spilled out of his eyes. “We—we should probably go back with Mom and Julia,” he said between sniffles.
“No hurry,” his father said, patting Ben on the back. “Let’s just stay here a little while.”
That’s right, Ben thought, clinging to that warm and wonderful embrace. Let’s just stay here. Let’s just stay here …
“Ben? It’s Nurse Tucker.”
Oh, please, not again!
“I don’t think you were listening to me. Or maybe you just forgot.”
He felt that touch again, that presence. Whatever it was.
“Ben, I kno
w escape is very close to you. Very tempting. But your time is not over. You’re needed here.”
Just leave me. Just let me go.
“Ben, I know it must seem hardly worth the trouble right now. Everything worth doing is so hard. But you can’t take the easy out, Ben. There are too many people who need you. In fact, here’s one now.”
The voice changed. “Ben?”
Christina? Christina is someone who—
“I’ve been stopping in to see Mrs. Marmelstein. She’s all right for now, but—well, you know. You’re the one she really wants.”
There was a long silence. He could feel her grasping, searching for words …
“Ben, I know I’ve been giving you a hard time lately, hassling you, telling you to be who you really are. It’s only because I care, you know? But—” Her voice broke off. “But I’m supposed to be your friend and now I’m afraid that maybe I’ve given you such a bad time that, like, maybe you don’t want to come back. Maybe you’d just as soon not have me pestering you. Maybe you’d like a little peace.”
Her voice seemed to dissolve. “And I just couldn’t stand that, Ben. Do you hear me?” Her voice swelled. “So if you’re in there staring at some stupid bright white light thinking about how nice and cozy everything would be on the other side, forget it, okay? You belong here, and I want you back!” She was shaking the side of his bed. “I want you back!”
Did I feel that, he wondered, or did I just think I did?
“And if you won’t come back on your own … I swear—I’ll resort to desperate measures.”
Christina, please—
“I’ve been going by your apartment every day. I don’t know why; I just like being there, after visiting hours end at the hospital. Someone had to get your mail. I suppose I didn’t have to read it … but when I saw this letter from a New York publisher, I thought—” Her voice sounded so hurt, so broken. “—I just thought that if I could find something new or exciting, something that would give you a reason, well, then I could make you come back.”
He heard the rustling of the envelope, the unfolding of the paper.
“Are you listening, Ben? They want to publish your book. Did you hear that? I’ll say it again. They want to publish your book! I’m not kidding.”
My book? My book?
“They think it has real commercial possibilities. Of course they want to make some changes.”
Changes? What—
“They say your use of language is a bit awkward in places, but they think their editorial committee can fix it.”
Fix it? Fix it?
“The art department wants you to add more vivid descriptions of the murder victims so they’ll have something to use for cover art. And the publicity department wants you to pump up the action. Maybe add a car chase.”
Now wait a minute …
“And of course, they want to change the title.”
Change the title? Change it to what?
Scales seemed to fall from his eyes. The gummy blackness faded away. He was aware of his arms, his legs…
“Change … the … title?”
He opened his eyes.
“Ben!” Christina exclaimed. “You’re back!” She lurched forward and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I asked you to come back and you did! You came back!”
The muscles of his jaw were like rusted gate hinges, but he made them move. “Have … I… ever … denied … you … anything?”
Chapter 52
THREE WEEKS AFTER he was discharged from the hospital, Ben made his way back to Jones and Loving’s offices. He still didn’t move with quite the bounce he once had; a broken rib was knitting and his head hurt whenever he moved too much or too fast. But all things considered, he was recovering quite well. Of course, all things considered, it was a miracle he was alive.
He rode the elevator to the seventh floor. He had left many of his belongings there while he was working on Earl’s case, and he didn’t want to abuse his friends’ generosity by trashing up their office space.
He crossed the corridor and headed for their office. He pushed himself through the double doors and …
“Surprise!”
The place was decorated in a cross between Mardi Gras and a nine-year-old’s birthday party. The lobby was festooned with crepe paper and brightly colored balloons. Streamers trailed down from the ceiling and across the walls. Christina and Jones and Loving and Paula all stood in a row blowing noisemakers and those party favors that stick out their tongue when you blow into them.
“Welcome home!” they shouted.
Ben stared at them, stunned. “Well … thank you, but you know, I just came to—”
“Let me show you your office.” Christina wrapped her arm around his and escorted him down the hallway. The others trailed behind.
“We gave you the largest office in the suite,” Christina explained. They swerved into the dark room and she flipped on the light. A fully furnished, fully equipped office sprang to life.
“See? It’s just like your old office. Well, except that the furniture is nicer. And the carpet is nicer. And the phone is nicer. Actually, everything is nicer. But other than that, it’s just the same.”
Ben’s eyes floated across the room, drinking it all in. It did have a pleasant look to it. A good feel. He could be comfortable here. Of course, Christina would know that. She would know how to decorate to his taste, just as she somehow knew he was coming to the office this morning.
“There’s more,” she said, shoving him back into the corridor.
“Right,” Jones said. He dropped Paula’s hand and skittered back to his desk, returning seconds later. “This is for you.”
What he held out to Ben was a snazzy brown leather briefcase with a bright red ribbon tied around the handles.
Ben took the gift from him, lightly brushing his hands over the smooth brown surface. “You shouldn’t have,” he said quietly.
“ ’Course we should, Skipper,” Loving said, piping in. “You can’t be a lawyer without a briefcase. I think that’s in the code of ethics or somethin’, ain’t it?”
Ben held the briefcase close to him and smiled.
Paula cut in. “Have you people forgotten this man was injured? Get him a chair.” Jones and Loving raced to be the one to do it. “How do you feel, anyway?”
As he took the proffered chair, Ben let his eyes wander all around, to the spanking new office, the new briefcase, and best of all, the beaming faces of his coworkers. His friends.
“I feel …” He paused, drawing in his breath. “I feel like I’ve come home.”
That evening, when Ben returned to his apartment, he found Christina sitting on the sofa and writing on a scrap of newspaper.
“There you are,” she said. “What took you?”
“I’ve been downstairs. What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking over your apartment by adverse possession ab initio.”
Ben sighed. More legal Latin. “Christina—”
“I thought now that I know all this Latin, you’d think I was more sophisticated.”
“Christina, you don’t have to switch from French to Latin for me. You don’t have to change anything for me. I like you just fine the way you are.”
Christina sat bolt upright. “You do?”
Ben turned away from the penetrating gaze. “Uh … what are you doing?”
“Well, I saw that you were stuck on your crossword, so I finished it for you.”
“I was not stuck,” he said, bristling. “I was pacing myself.”
“Ben, this puzzle is a week old.”
“Is there a rush?”
Christina set down the paper. “So … did you see Mrs. Marmelstein?”
Ben nodded.
“I suppose you told her about the nursing home.”
“I’ve worked out a schedule,” he said. He plopped a sheet of paper down on the coffee table. “Joni and Jami and their mother all said they would help. With four of us, an
d you pitching in for emergencies, we can manage to have someone looking after Mrs. Marmelstein all the time.”
“You mean—”
“That way, she can stay right here, where she wants to be.”
“But your tour—”
“There’ll be other tours. Besides, I need to focus on my law practice. Now that I have a spiffy office, it’d be nice to have a few clients to go with it.”
Christina raised a hand to her mouth. “Mrs. Marmelstein must’ve been … very happy when you told her.”
“Well … yeah. I think she was, actually.” He grinned. “Surprised?”
“That you did the right thing? No. I knew you would.”
“And how, may I ask, did you know?”
She pressed forward on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Because that’s who you are.”
About a week later, after Ben finished up at work, he hopped into his van and drove toward St. John’s. It had been a great day at the office—new clients, new cases, new challenges. Somehow it all seemed fresh again; he was recapturing the pleasure of practicing law.
Why had he ever quit? he wondered. What was it about life that made people want to be something other than what they were? Sure, some changes were improvements: Tyrone leaving the gang, Christina going to law school. But some changes weren’t; some were just people hiding from themselves. Professor Hoodoo, trying to bury himself in his brother’s life. Jones trying to create a false cyber-persona that almost chased Paula away. And Ben—running away from the thing he did best.
He was just lucky he’d managed to get himself straightened out. Lucky he had people who cared.
Which was why he was making this little trip. He passed through the electric doors outside St. John’s with a jumbo box of chocolates and a bouquet of roses tucked under his arm.
The nurse on duty recognized him as he approached the receiving station. “Mr. Kincaid. Good to see you again. How are you feeling?”
“Fit as a fiddle, thank you.”
“I can’t tell you how nice that is to hear. When they first brought you in here, well, I didn’t hold out much hope. But look at you now!”
Extreme Justice Page 32