Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3

by Karen McQuestion

  “It’s working,” he said excitedly. “She’s coming to.”

  Dr. Wentworth tried to shush him, but he wouldn’t be quieted. “Hang in there, dear,” Mr. Bernstein said, “we’re coming for you.”

  It was funny he phrased it that way because that’s exactly how it seemed to me too—that her essence had fallen into an abyss and needed a hand up. We’re coming for you. Metaphorically she grabbed his words and my energy and it became the rope she needed to claw her way to the surface. It took everything she had, but with great effort, she was able to open her eyes. For a moment, I saw the room as she did. Everything bleary like she was looking through a windshield smeared with Vaseline. When she located her husband, her heart surged with joy.

  Mr. Bernstein kept talking to her, holding her hand and weeping with happiness, but I didn’t stop. I moved slowly over the rest of her body, pausing when I sensed there was a need, covering every single damaged inch, until finally my bucket was empty. When I was done I stood up straight and shook out my hands.

  “Finished?” Dr. Wentworth asked and when she saw my answer was yes, she pressed a button above the bed. “I need the entire team in here stat.”

  Dr. Karke, who must have been right outside the door the entire time, came running in first. Instinctively, Carly and I moved back to make room for the doctors and nurses who rushed in. They exclaimed over the fact that President Bernstein was awake and responsive and began talking medical speak.

  “BP one ten over seventy.”

  “Pulse is steady and normal!”

  “Temperature ninety-nine degrees.”

  The staff surrounded her, checking her reflexes, calling out vitals, and generally just examining her like she was an unusual specimen. Her husband had been pushed back, his spot claimed by a white-jacketed woman who was placing a stethoscope on the president’s chest. “Steady heartbeat!” she proclaimed, as if she was adding something of value to the dialogue.

  Dr. Karke got out a small flashlight and checked the patient’s pupils, then raised his pointer finger. “Madame President, can you follow the movement of my finger?” He went from side to side. “Very good.”

  I knew what a gargantuan effort it took just to open her eyes. I’d felt how she’d heroically struggled to the surface when it would have been so much easier for her to stay submerged. And I instinctively knew that at this moment all this commotion was way too much for her. “Enough!” I said. “She needs to rest.”

  Dr. Karke turned his head and frowned at me. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Becker. We’ll take it from here.” Just like that, the guy totally blew me off. I stood there, with my mouth open thinking: you’ve got to be kidding me. They’d had the president for three days and there had been no change in her condition. I had two short sessions with her and she was on the road back to recovery. And he was telling me they’d take it from here?

  My back had been against the wall but now I stepped forward and forced my way into the inner circle. “Stop! All of you need to stop right now!” I held my hands over the patient and got a small faint feeling of gratitude, confirming my hunch. “This is too much for her. If you keep going, you’re going to slow down her progress. Her body needs quiet time and rest to repair itself.”

  “With all due respect, Russ,” Dr. Karke said, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think—”

  “Do what the boy says.” Mr. Bernstein’s voice thundered from behind me. A second later he’d forced his way forward and was standing next to me, his hand on my shoulder in solidarity. “My wife needs quiet. I want this circus out of here.”

  “Mr. Bernstein, it’s important that we assess your wife—” Dr. Karke spoke hurriedly but he still didn’t get to finish.

  “Now,” Mr. Bernstein said. “All of you. Out. I will call if you are needed.”

  Everyone froze looking from Dr. Karke to Mr. Bernstein and back again, waiting to see if the doctor would counter. When he threw up his hands in defeat, they filed out of the room one by one, leaving Carly, Mr. Bernstein and myself behind.

  Like most of the country, I’d always thought of Mr. Bernstein as the man behind the woman. Having a wife who was so educated, strong-minded, and accomplished, I’d sort of assumed he was a mild-mannered guy, a pushover. But I could see now how wrong that kind of thinking was. His kind of strength didn’t need to be front and center, but it was definitely there, ready to be pulled out at a moment’s notice.

  “Much better now,” he said, to no one in particular, rubbing his forehead in relief. “I can hear myself think.” His gaze was on his wife who now looked like she was sleeping; he stroked her cheek with one finger. “Will she open her eyes again?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It took a lot of effort for her to do it the first time. She just needs time.”

  “You’ll be back?” he asked.

  “First thing tomorrow,” I promised.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Russ

  As Carly and I were leaving the room, Dr. Karke asked if he might have a word with me. “I was hoping to speak with you alone,” he said, looking nervously at Carly. “If you can spare a few minutes. Please?” After being yelled at by Mr. Bernstein, he'd suddenly become super polite.

  “Is there a reason I can't be part of this?” Carly said, her eyebrows raised. It cracked me up that she sounded like our mother. My opinion of Carly was changing for the better all the time. She used to seem flaky and unpredictable, changing jobs, apartments, and cell phones, but now I knew that many of her actions were precipitated by a fear of the Associates. I had been guilty of judging her based on that and the way she dressed. The jeans with the bedazzled back pockets and the long hair, both of which made her look like a teenager from behind. Even though she was Frank's mom, I never saw her as a grown-up until recently. It's like she grew up before my eyes. “Is there something you're not telling me?” she probed. “Something you want Russ to do that I wouldn’t like?”

  “Nothing like that,” Dr. Karke assured her. “Just a few questions about the president's recovery. It's technically classified since it regards national interest. I was instructed to speak only to Russ about this matter.”

  She gave me a hard look, and must have decided his explanation was plausible. “Well, okay, but don't keep him too long.”

  Dr. Karke said, “Ten minutes or so. If you go down the hallway and to the left, you'll find a waiting area. We'll come and get you when we're done.”

  Carly hoisted her purse over her shoulder and headed that way, giving me one last forlorn look as she went. We weren't allowed cell phones in PGDC and didn't need money, so I had no idea why she carried that purse everywhere she went.

  “Right this way, Russ,” Dr. Karke said, heading in the opposite direction. "This won't take long."

  We walked toward the elevator, but turned down a side hallway I hadn’t noticed on the way in. The walls were lined with fake windows showing outdoor scenes. The sunshine slanted in, just like you’d see above ground. “Are these images computer generated,” I said pointing, “or are they from cameras somewhere?”

  He didn’t pause. “CG,” he said. “The sunlight coming through the windows moves in real time in order to regulate our circadian rhythm. Even though we’re underground, steps have been taken to mimic a natural environment. If you spend too much time in our outdoor area, you can actually get the equivalent of a sunburn. Sometimes they’ll have it set for a breezy day or it will mist or drizzle. After awhile most people forget they’re underground.”

  “No kidding.” I kept up with him step by step. “That’s amazing.”

  He shot me a sideways glance. “No one told you this?”

  “No, we just got into an elevator and went down and they were like, ‘now you’re in PGDC’.”

  “Okay, here we are,” he said, opening a windowed door labeled with Dr. Wentworth’s name. Inside the room, a man stood with his back to us, looking at the framed photos on the opposite wall. I sized up the room and saw standard office furniture: mahogan
y desk, bookcase, and filing cabinet. In one corner, a pedestal held a large luminous globe. Next to the doorway was a tan-colored leather couch, with a bedroom pillow on one end, making me think Dr. Wentworth occasionally slept here.

  The man turned around when we walked in and I had an immediate flash of recognition. The last time I’d met this guy he’d been wearing a white lab jacket embroidered with his name, “Dr. David Hofstetter.” He’d lost the lab jacket somewhere along the way, and now wore a dress shirt and suit coat, but otherwise he looked the same—dark hair, thin nose, and deep-set eyes. I imagined my nephew Frank would look a lot like him when he grew up.

  “David?” I said in disbelief.

  His smile was wide. “Russ!” He came over and pulled me into a bear hug. “Good to see you again. I hear you’ve been doing your magic on the president.”

  “Trying my best.”

  “Atta boy! I told them you could do it. Didn’t I, Karke?”

  Dr. Karke, who’d been standing quietly next to the door said, “Yes, you assuredly did.”

  David said, “Thanks for bringing Russ here. I won’t keep him for very long. If you want to come back in ten minutes or so, that should work out fine.”

  It was amazing to me how people around here said things without coming right out and saying them. You can get lost now is what David really meant, but he managed to tangle it up in all kinds of nice words so it came off well.

  “Very well,” Dr. Karke said, slipping out into the hallway. David reached over and shut the door. I could see through the glass that Karke was walking away from the room, but he was taking his sweet time about it.

  “No one told me you would be here,” I said. The last time I’d seen him we were in South America. “You told me there was a big mission coming up, but I didn’t think I’d be meeting the president.”

  “Of course we didn’t know about the coma until it happened,” he said leaning against the desk. “But the rest of it is still the same. The Associates are moving in and getting closer. If they manage to overthrow this president and install their man, it will be end times for all of us, Russ. A dictatorship. And those who don’t go along with what they want will be wiped out. Have they explained that to you?”

  “I know all that.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked. “Sorry. Of course you were briefed. I didn’t mean to be patronizing.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

  He said, “I wanted to see you before the Bash, so you won’t be surprised to see me there.”

  “You’re going to be at the Bash?”

  “Yes, in a professional capacity,” he said. “One more person to help keep the first family safe. My powers aren’t what they used to be, but I can still do a pretty good blast if I have to. You want to see?” I nodded and he pointed to the globe in the corner. At first nothing happened but eventually I saw a thin stream of electricity shoot from the end of his finger to the globe. The impact made the globe spin around, first in slow circles, then faster and faster. A high-pitched thrum filled the room until the moment he stopped.

  “Pretty good,” I said approvingly.

  “I know it’s nothing compared to what you can do. Hell, it’s nothing compared to what I used to be able to do.” He shrugged. “You lose power as you get older, you know.”

  “I know. I heard.”

  “Still, if I was standing close enough, that amount of electricity could down a man, or at least bring him to his knees. And that’s what you’d need in an emergency. Anyway.”

  I sat down on the couch so I was looking up at him. He’d stopped, but it seemed like one of those momentary pauses that didn’t require a reply, so I waited.

  “The real reason I wanted to see you is that I wanted to know about Carly and Frank.” The statement just hung there. He’d suddenly become nervous, resting his backside against the desk, which caused Dr. Wentworth’s pencil cup to knock over. Pens and pencils spilled out, several of them rolling off the desk and onto the carpet. Embarrassed, he leaned over and scooped them up.

  “Carly and Frank are okay,” I said. I wasn’t going to give him too much. Don’t get me wrong. I liked David Hofstetter a lot. The guy had saved my life in Peru, and he seemed to be honest and have good intentions and all that. But I wasn’t okay with how he’d broken my sister’s heart by faking his own death, reappearing a few years later under the guise of being his own cousin, impregnating Carly and then not being around for Frank’s childhood. Add that to the fact that he’d been spying on them for years because he wanted to see them (which seriously freaked Carly out every time she came across a bug or camera planted in her car or apartment), and there was no way we were going to be really friendly.

  “Just okay?” He turned back to face me.

  “Okay and doing fine.”

  “You didn’t tell Carly you met me?”

  “What do you think? You’re the one monitoring her apartment. Did you notice anything different?” Yeah, I knew I sounded like an ass, but it was because I was offended. I’d told him I wouldn’t tell and I didn’t tell. I didn’t say a word to my sister, even though I wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do and it killed me to keep the truth from her. And now he doubted me?

  “I stopped having her apartment bugged after you told me how much it upset her. Listening to them used to be the high point of my day. It feels empty not to have that anymore. It’s been killing me not to be part of their life.”

  He sounded sincere, so how could he be so clueless? Unbelievable. I swallowed to keep my anger in check. I needed to stay level to make my point. “David, I hate to tell you this, but you never were part of their life. Watching and listening to them is not even close. You’re like the guy who watches TV and feels like he’s friends with the characters on the show. You feel like you know them, but it’s all one way. They don’t know you. You’re nothing to them.” I’d been picking up speed as I went. I knew I’d gone too far with that last sentence when he flinched like I hit him.

  “Ouch.” He squinted and looked away from me, having acquired a sudden interest in arranging the pencils in a jar.

  I don’t have any trouble saying I’m sorry when I really am, but I wasn’t going to say it this time. What I’d said was cruel, maybe, but it was true. Sitting at a monitor watching your son grow up is no substitute for being there. I’d been the one Frank had asked, “Why doesn’t my dad love me?” Try explaining that one to a ten-year-old kid. I knew his pain, and I knew Carly’s pain too. No way was David Hofstetter getting off the hook.

  “Okay,” he said finally. “So I screwed up. I can’t go back in time, Russ. There is no rewind. What would you suggest I do?”

  “Man up right now,” I said pointing. “Carly is just down the hall. Go talk to her, tell her everything.”

  David looked down at his feet. “She will hate me.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I guess it’s better that she thinks you’re dead.”

  “You’re young, Russ. You think things can be fixed, that I can go have a heart-to-heart talk with Carly and that she’ll be mad at first, but then later she’ll forgive me. Then I’ll move back to Edgewood and get a job and slide into Frank’s life and become the dad he deserves to have. He’ll buy me a gift for Father’s Day and Carly and I will get married. We’ll come up with an excuse for my absence to tell other people. We’ll say I survived the car accident but I had amnesia or something. People will think it sounds fishy at first, but over time they’ll accept it. And then maybe Carly and I will have another child, maybe a girl this time. Carly can quit her job and stay home, or go back to school and follow her bliss. And everyone will be happy and everything will be fine.” His mouth turned upward, but his eyes weren’t smiling.

  “Yeah, that could happen,” I said. “Why not?”

  “Because life doesn’t happen that way, Russ. Sometimes it’s just too late. Too many years and the wounds are just too deep.”

  “Still. You could try.”

>   “And I will. But not today.”

  “If not today, then when?” I asked.

  “I need to get through this week first. After the Bash I promise I’ll talk to Carly.”

  “Are you sure you won’t chicken out?”

  “No, I’ll do it.”

  “If you don’t, I will.” I couldn’t keep lying to my sister. My conscience was killing me, and besides, as Carly had pointed out, I was a terrible liar.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Russ

  When Carly and I were finished at the hospital, we were escorted to a different building and shown our new luxury suites. Some mysterious person, or maybe a crew of people, had transported all our stuff from the hotel to our new suites, and it was already set up like we’d been staying there for ages. My toothbrush stood at attention in a cup in the bathroom, and my clothes, which now looked pressed, hung in the closet and were arranged a lot more neatly than if I had done it. Each suite was like an apartment with homey touches like fresh flowers on every flat surface, and food and assorted beverages in the fridge. It felt a little creepy, actually, like I’d crashed someone’s house and they might come back any minute.

  My luxury suite was conveniently located down the hall from Jameson and Mallory’s, while Carly and the other chaperones were on the other end of the building. When Carly asked about it, Dr. Wentworth said, “We need to establish some space between now and the Bash. These young people will be involved in a potentially dangerous situation and I don’t want their heads cluttered up with worrying about other people’s expectations.”