He exhaled like he had been sucker punched in the gut then turned and walked away—back toward the truck. Micah was sweating, his blood drained from his face. Sensations draped the Plaza in a black, odious shroud. The assassination 16 months earlier punched a hole in the place’s reality, and it was unbearable for Micah.
Mr. Dorsey and Cory caught-up with him as he turned down a side street and headed toward the old pick-up. Cory grabbed Micah, who was noticeably paler and verging on collapse, and he held him tightly. This was not an embrace of friendship or even of concern. Cory felt the life leave his friend, and he was healing Micah, sharing some of his strength with him. Micah filled his lungs with air and recovered almost instantly.
“You’ve got to control it better,” Cory pleaded. “You gotta turn it off. You know what it does. You need to try harder.”
Tom Dorsey listened to the incomprehensible dialogue. “What’s wrong, son?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Dorsey. Must be breakfast upsetting my stomach.” Micah knew that someday soon he would have to tell his elderly friend the truth, but today was not that day.
They hopped into the truck, and ten minutes later they were parked at the hospital and walking into admittance. Micah was pre-registered, and the three were led immediately to a room with two beds. The walls were painted gay colors, and there was an open area where kids could congregate to watch television or play games. Micah threw his rucksack onto his bed while Cory and Mr. Dorsey took seats.
A nurse entered, and Micah recognized her from his previous visit. “Master Sherwood, back so soon?” She was a young and pleasant woman. “Mighty handsome today, you wore that hat for me? You certainly know what I like,” she smiled and looked toward Cory and then back at Micah. “Okay, I’m pretty sure you are Micah Sherwood, so this is obviously your doppelgänger.”
“Naw, that’s my cousin. Look closer and you’ll see that I’m way better look’n than he is.” Micah grinned and Cory made a face.
“Cousins? You look like identical twins. You both are gorgeous,” she teased the boys who each turned a bright shade of red. “Now get this on and the doctor will be in momentarily,” and the nurse tossed him a gown. “I’ll be right back.”
“She must be pert near totally blind if she thinks you’re gorgeous,” Cory spoke up. “Compared to you, a horny toad would look like Miss America.”
“So what does that say about you,” Micah posited as he stripped, threw on the gown, and hopped on the edge of the bed.
The nurse returned and took Micah’s vitals. “Let me see your incision,” and she pulled open the gown and examined the long, red blemish in the center of his chest. “Very nice. Any tenderness or pain?”
“At first there was some pain but not anymore.”
The nurse listened to the rhythm of his heart. “Sounds perfect to me.” Then the doctor entered the room.
Dr. Ford was a short and lean man, 40 years old but looked like he was barely out of high school. He jumped up and sat next to his patient. “How you feeling buckaroo?” He didn’t wait for an answer but pulled Micah’s gown down to look at the scar from the open heart surgery.
“I am well,” Micah replied.
The doctor reviewed his files and looked at his vitals, then listened to the boy’s heart. “Have you been having any shortness of breath or any pain in your chest? Or dizziness?”
“No, I feel good. None of those things, and no dancing heart like I used to have either.” Micah sized up the doctor and decided that he liked the guy.
“No fatigue?”
Micah smiled, “No, nothing but perfection.”
“Your heart sounds strong and normal. There is no murmur, and it has a regular rhythm. Let me tell you what we’ve got planned. First, we will take you on a ride to get an EKG just to make sure you’re not hiding something from us,” Dr. Ford smiled. “Dr. Reeves requested an EEG and some other headwork to make sure that there’s nothing scrambled in your noggin. Do you have epilepsy?” The doctor flipped through Micah’s chart.
“Petit mal and Cory does too,” Micah tilted his head toward the other boy. “It’s nothing serious, and I don’t understand why he keeps making it an issue.”
Dr. Ford smiled. “Because it is an issue. You survived a devastating illness and then surgery to correct a congenital heart valve defect. These things sometime have a cascading effect on the body. We need to make sure that there are no adverse changes, because if there are, we can treat them before they escalate into something worse. Does that answer satisfy you?”
Micah grinned, “For the moment, but I’m watching you.”
“I’ll be on my guard.” He paused and then continued with the plan of the day. “A staff neurologist will review the results of those tests and compare them to the ones taken last October. Miss Glover will drain you of some blood and then we can get started on the other procedures. I apologize, but your afternoon and evening will be busy. Your brother can come back around 8:00 and spend the night with you; we’ve reserved that bed for him. We also have two dinner trays ordered.”
“As you know, we have a holistic approach to medicine,” the doctor addressed Mr. Dorsey. “So by mid-morning tomorrow we’ll meet with the team and review most of the labs and plan our path forward. Be here by 10:00, and the get-together will last probably an hour depending on your questions. After that, you can head back to Amarillo.”
Mr. Dorsey and Cory left when the nurse started drawing blood. Most of the afternoon Micah spent in a wheelchair waiting for the next exam, another bit of torture and boredom. He got back to his room and dressed to wait for his family in the open area across from his room. There were a few other boys watching television, but Micah sat quietly and aloof from his surroundings. He only wanted to be home with his dog, Raggéd, in his barn bedroom.
After a quarter hour, he saw Cory run into his room and look around. Micah whistled and his friend turned and smiled. Tom Dorsey soon followed and the three sat together in the lounging area.
“Have they fed you yet?” the old man questioned.
“No!” Micah felt oppressed. Even though he tried and tried hard, he was unable to shut himself down completely. A hospital is full of fear, pain and dread; those emotions came at him in waves, and he absorbed them like a big sponge. He typically could ignore them, but in some places there is a concentration of bad feelings. In those settings, he would become an open funnel, and everyone’s pain channeled toward him. That’s what happened at Dealey Plaza earlier in the day. The past leaves an impression on the environment, and when something horrific occurs, that imprint might last for eons.
Tom Dorsey moved next to his ward and embraced him. No words were exchanged. Initially Micah felt awkward; after all, he was ten years old and a cowboy. But the warmth of the old man’s love relaxed him, and the pain that he had been absorbing was replaced with his friend’s tenderness. And tears flowed; Micah could not control them and he didn’t care.
Cory sat on an adjacent couch. His arms were folded as he pretended not to see or feel the happenings in the chair next to him, but his red and moist eyes gave him away, and soon he was folded into the group cuddle. For a few moments, the three became one.
The huddle broke when dinner arrived. They migrated to the room, and the boys each took a bed while Tom said his goodbyes and left. They uncovered their dinner trays: a cold hamburger, fries, milk and pudding.
“You have some money?” Micah looked at Cory, who smiled and jumped out of bed and headed toward the door.
He stuck his head outside to look for any nosey nurses. The stairs were across the hall and two doors away. The boys went down the stairs and made it past admissions and into a large lobby.
Micah walked over to an information desk. “Where’s the cafeteria?”
An elderly man smiled at the boy. “Is this an escape?”
Micah’s eyes widened. “Certainly not, it’s a food raid, so are you going to cooperate or do I need to hogtie you and lock you in a closet?”
&n
bsp; The man laughed, placed a ‘Closed Sign’ on the desk, and told the boys to follow him. He led them out the doors and over to a very big hospital across the way. He pointed them in the direction of the cafeteria and said that he would wait for them. But they could take their time, he was in no hurry.
The two smiled at the man and ran into the dining hall. Cory counted out his money, and the boys ordered fried chicken and pecan pie. And they feasted. They grabbed a big cinnamon roll on their way out and gave it to their elderly accomplice.
“What’s the room number?” the old guy asked once back at Children’s Hospital.
“Umm… I forgot to look,” Micah smiled.
“Room 232,” Cory piped up, “Tom and I had to ask when we came back this evening.”
He escorted the boys upstairs. “Now you littluns don’t go roaming but stay in place, okay?”
Micah heard the word, littlun. Only his dad and his Missouri kin used that word. “You’re from the ‘Hills?’”
“That’s right, from Neosho in fact. How’d you know?”
“Littlun! That’s what my dad says, and he’s from Seneca. He’s a Sherwood. What are you?” Micah spoke enthusiastically.
“I’m a Moser, Lester Moser, but I haven’t seen the old place since forever. Sherwood is a common name back home. In fact, Mosers and Sherwoods intermarried. It was hard dating because everyone in Newton and MacDonald Counties are some degree of cousin. The world is mighty small. I’m glad to meet you two. I’m sorry, but I have to go. My old lady gets anxious if I’m not home on time.” The man shook the boys’ hands and left.
The boys stripped and hopped into bed. Cory studied Micah’s scar. It stretched downward from just below his neck and nearly halfway to his bellybutton. “It will go away with time,” he told his friend, but Micah shook his head no.
A heavyset elderly nurse came in. “Made it back. Thought you could sneak out of here without me seeing, but I got eyes everywhere. I told Lester to watch for you ‘cause I knew where you were heading. Don’t blame you. If you weren’t already sick, the garbage they call food here would make you sick.”
The boys were smiling at the chunky black lady as she continued her monologue.
“You with the scar move over here and let me check you out. You know the drill. I don’t need to explain it.”
Micah hopped over Cory and the nurse took his blood pressure and pulse. Then she listened to his heart. For some weird reason, Micah was enjoying this check-up. He was being nourished, that is how he felt. A warm golden haze glimmered around the lady, but there were emerald green tongues of flame that erupted around her upper body. Normally Micah would have to concentrate to see someone’s enveloping light, but once in a while a person’s flicker stood out.
“It’s called an aura,” the nurse said, “but I like your word, ‘flicker,’ better.”
Both boys’ mouths fell open. They had never met anyone whose ability seemed to exceed their own, and they were excited.
“I’m off duty now, but I hung around so I could talk with you two. It’s not often you meet people that share your talents. And I knew that you were struggling with it,” she looked at Micah.
The boys watched her. They studied her. They touched her. Micah set his face level with her eyes and peered deeply into her dark brown irises. He did so for over a minute and then moved back.
“Help me,” Micah pleaded.
She grasped his hand and rubbed his head. “As much as I can, I will. It is not a curse you know. It’s not a blessing either. It just is. You cannot help everyone; you can only help a few, and you will know the ones. It’s that simple. Don’t go looking because they will come to you.”
She took a seat and gestured for Cory to sit in her lap. She spoke in a whisper. “You need to help your brother because he cannot control his compassion. You know what I mean and you know what to do. He is dependent on you, though he won’t admit it. He has a very complex nature and that makes his life difficult. His guardians watch over him and guide him, but he trusts you and the old man more than anyone. It will take time, but I think he will get it managed.”
She looked into his eyes. “Yes you are brothers; you have always been brothers and always will be. You share a soul. Each of you balances the other. It’s the same for the other three. The five of you make a perfect whole. Now I need to talk with Micah.”
“Wait,” Cory was a little perplexed. “Five of us, there are only four of us: me, Micah, Tandy and Dane.” He jumped down from the black lady’s lap before she could respond.
The nurse wiggled her finger and Cory stepped nearer. She spoke softly into the boy’s ear, “The old man is your brother too.” She smiled and motioned for Micah to come over.
She embraced and held Micah for several minutes. He needed her touch more than he needed her words. She spoke where Cory could also hear. “You already know so much. There is nothing I can say that you haven’t already figured out.”
“I wish that I could open you up and turn off that part of you which makes you feel responsible for everyone and everything. I can’t do that, only you can help yourself. Listen to your inner voice and to your friends. If you do that, life will be less complicated for you.” She reached into a bag and pulled out a gift. “Take this little book and feel its words.”
“Please my baby, be at peace with yourself.” She cupped the back of his head and held it against her shoulder like a mother would a newborn.
For a moment, Micah and the black lady became a unity—feeling both lost within her mind’s images and found within some type of obscure holiness. Her hand was the only thing tethering and keeping him from fading completely away into her being, that and the jasmine and rose fragrance that flooded the room.
“Okay my children, I will be listening for you. Now I’ve got to go.” She kissed their foreheads and left.
The boys sat quietly for some time. Micah looked at Cory. “What did she say to you?”
Cory smiled at his friend. “She said you were a wussy and would be a drag on my love life. She thought I should drop you like a hot potato. What’s the book?”
Micah grinned, “Um, she told me that you were a girly-boy and would give me a bad reputation if I kept hanging with you.”
They laughed at their play-talk.
“It’s called ‘Desiderata.’ She said to ‘feel it’.”
They were again silent for the longest time. They lay head to head in bed considering the messages that the black woman delivered.
“She wasn’t living you know, not like we are.” Micah did not face Cory when he spoke. “She’s a caretaker, that’s the sense I got. You heard what she said, but did you feel what she said?”
Cory rose up in bed and scrutinized his friend. “It was a pep talk, and it was a curing. So she is like a nurse, like a caretaker but more—a mother.” He studied his friend. “Are you testing me? You know that I’m not as good as you at this stuff. I can read the surface, but I’m afraid to go too deep. I see what it does to you and it scares me.” Cory waited for a response.
“You can sense as well as I do, but you can control it better. She whispered things to you because she knew that I could hear without listening. It was a confirmation; she validated what we already knew about ourselves. She came to heal, but not the body, the spirit.”
Micah turned on his side toward Cory, his eyes closed, and thought about the visitor. He never prayed and didn’t really believe in prayer, but within his mind, he thanked her and promised to do his best for her (and he always kept his promises). And then he went to sleep.
Chapter 2: Harry Benoit
Micah and Cory had gotten up late; their breakfast trays were already in place when Mr. Dorsey walked into the room and roused the sleeping ten year olds. They hopped out of bed and investigated the dishes: scrambled eggs, oatmeal, toast, and apple juice. Micah drank the juice and then pushed the table away. Cory just ate the toast. The boys showered and dressed. When Dr. Ford arrived, he led them to the meeting area.
It was not a big room. It had couches and some comfortable chairs. They waited for the other specialists. Tom Dorsey was staring out the window while the two boys sat together on a single overstuffed chair. Soon there were a half dozen people sitting at the table. The medical report was straight forward. Micah’s EKG was normal, and ten weeks for recovery is not uncommon for the type of surgery he had, which was complicated by the Rheumatic Fever and endocarditis. The EEG and other head work were comparable to the tests done the previous October.
“Okay Micah, here is your release so you can return to school. I want to see you in August for a final exam, but you are doing great. You can go back to normal activities, but if you experience any shortness of breath, palpitations, fatigue, you go immediately to the emergency room even if it’s at midnight. You understand?”
Dr. Ford looked toward Mr. Dorsey as he continued to speak. “But I am more concerned with drug resistance. You and Dr. Reeves need to watch for any signs that the medications are not working. That means frequent doctor visits. Developing drug resistance is a serious possibility.”
Micah stood up. “So I can ride Styx and do my chores and take boxing lessons and do everything I did before?”
“Absolutely,” Dr. Ford smiled. “Go be a 10 year old.”
It was a long six hour drive back from Dallas. They didn’t stop but drove straight through to Amarillo. Micah was famished as he sat on the back of Styx looking across the barn at the other horses. The black gelding felt sturdy and strong underneath him. He had yet to ride the demon horse, but tomorrow he would run him across the prairie to the playa with his friends. He had ridden Nellie a couple of times. She was gentle and trustworthy, and Micah was confident that she would not accidentally hurt him, but Styx was a different matter. He was spirited and demanding and spooked easily. He held off riding him until the doctor gave him the okay.
Greg was taking him out for supper, just the two brothers out for the night. Greg turned 18 in February, almost seven years older than Micah. He worked, went to high school and was in the Navy Reserves. Plus there was Isabella, Greg’s girlfriend, who seemed to take an extraordinary amount of his time.
Willow Wood Road: Lavender and Sage Page 2