Fire and Agate

by Andrew Grey

  The service was lively, with enthusiastic music and another great sermon. Tyrone didn’t seem to be a “hell and brimstone” kind of guy, which was very refreshing. His messages seemed to focus around community and helping others, and Chris thought that was pretty cool.

  “There will be refreshments in the park, presented by the women’s circle.” Tyrone ended the service, and everyone filed out.

  “Can we go?” Pavle asked as Isaac raced up.

  “Will you swing me?” he asked, and when Pavle turned to Chris, he could only sigh at his big beseeching eyes. This was not a good idea, and he didn’t want a repeat of last week, but it was damned near impossible for him to say no to that look.

  “Okay. We can stay for a little bit,” he agreed, and Isaac pulled Pavle outside with him.

  “Isaac, you be nice,” Anika cautioned as she followed them.

  Chris went as well and poured a glass of lemonade, then stood off to the side, watching as Pavle played with the children, laughing right along with them. It was hard to believe how far Pavle had come in a few weeks. He had started seeing the therapist more often this week and that was working out for him, or at least Pavle said it was.

  “Have you figured out if he’s the weeds or the grass?” Nadine asked, coming to stand next to him.

  “Pavle? He’s definitely the grass—green, lush, and perfect. But I don’t know if I’m the grass for him.” He could hope he was, but Chris honestly didn’t know. He’d have liked to think he was more confident than that. Pavle would have to make a decision soon. Circumstances were going to dictate it.

  Chris swiped at a buzzing bug near his ear. At least that’s what he thought it was at first. Then he realized it was a bullet by the divot in the ground. “Nadine, get everyone inside and call the police. Right now.” He turned, and to Nadine’s credit, she was already moving as a second shot rang out.

  Pandemonium broke out as everyone raced for the church at the same time. Screams reached Chris’s ears, but he concentrated on where Pavle stood with little cover and Isaac crying in the swing. Chris raced toward Pavle and Isaac, pulled Isaac off the swing, and pushed both him and Pavle to the ground. “Take him, stay low. Move behind that rise over there, and stay put.” He pressed Isaac into Pavle’s arms and got them to some sort of safety as more shots rang out, followed by screams and panic.

  He raced for cover and watched as Pavle held Isaac to him, both of them lying tightly to the ground behind the small grassy mound. They were safe, but for how long?

  The shots were coming from the house right on the edge of the park. He had no idea how many shooters there were and he was pretty much pinned down.

  Chris pulled his gun from under his jacket and called in to the station as he scanned for the gunman’s location. Another shot echoed over the park, and Chris returned fire two times until flames shot through his upper chest. He fell forward, but lifted his head enough to see movement from the window where the gunman had been. He steadied his hand and fired twice right at the figure in the window before darkness overtook the edges of his sight. When no further shots were fired, he hoped he’d gotten the shooter.

  “Get to the church… now. Stay low and go fast.” Sirens were already sounding, and Chris watched for any additional movement as Isaac and Pavle hurried to the church, Pavle looking back toward him as he went.

  Chris’s shirt clung to him and darkened as he looked down at it. The realization that he’d been shot kicked in, but he didn’t feel anything now. Chris knew it was bad, but his first thought was to make sure everyone else was safe. Thankfully, the park was now deserted and there were no bodies lying around. His strength flowed away, but he did his best to stay alert and on guard until teams of officers in blue swarmed the park and he collapsed to the ground.

  Then Pavle was back with him, kneeling next to him.

  “You were supposed to be inside,” Chris scolded.

  “I help you.” Pavle rolled him over and pressed to his chest. “I helping.”

  “You always help me. You know that?” Chris tried to smile to make Pavle feel better, but all he could do was groan. His eyelids were too damned heavy. Chris placed his hand on top of Pavle’s, just happy to touch him. “I need to sleep.”

  “No. Stay,” Pavle told him. “You stay.” Pavle’s hand caressed Chris’s cheek as he sighed a final time, giving up the battle against weakness and closing his eyes. “You stay,” he heard Pavle say…

  And then everything was quiet and dark.

  DAMN IT all, he wished someone would shut off that infernal beeping. He was comfy, swimming through warm water, and wanted to stay there.

  The beeping finally stopped and he settled into the water once again. Chris simply floated, with nowhere to go and in no particular direction. He lay still, arms out, eyes closed, chilling like he was on the world’s best vacation ever.

  The beeping started again, only this time getting louder. Off to his left. He wanted to swat at it, but his arm was too heavy and he couldn’t lift it.

  “Chris,” a familiar voice said. “You need to come back. If you can hear me, follow my voice.”

  Why? I like it here.

  “Follow my voice. I know you can hear me. Move your hand again, open your eyes. You’ve spent too damned much time in bed, and you need to wake up and stop being a layabout.”

  “Nanna?” he said, moving his lips, hoping sound came out.

  The dream changed and the water drained away. Lights shone on the edge of his consciousness, but he didn’t want to go. They dimmed then, and he sighed.

  “Chris, come to me. Open your eyes.”

  He tried, but they didn’t want to cooperate, and he figured he’d get some more rest. “Sleep.”

  “No. It’s waking-up time. So open your eyes and look at me. You need to see the extra gray hair I have because of you.”

  “Nanna.”

  “See. You’re almost there. Just try to open your eyes again.”

  Someone held his hand—Chris could feel it. He tried opening his eyes again, and this time they responded. The room was dark, with Nanna leaning over him. “Hi,” he said even though his mouth was Sahara-dry.

  “Sweet boy,” she whispered. “You gave all of us a scare.” She held his hand. “Your mom and dad were here, and they’ll be back in a minute.”

  It took his eyes awhile to focus. “Where am I?”

  “The hospital. You’ve been here for nearly a week. That guy who shot you nearly took you away from all of us.”

  He closed his eyes again. “But I’m alive?”

  “Yes. You surprised all of them.” She squeezed his hand.

  “Is everyone else okay—Pavle, Isaac, the other people from the church?” He tried to make his mind remember all that happened.

  “Everyone is fine. One person was hurt, but they’re okay and much better already.”

  Chris sighed and relaxed. “Where is Pavle? Is he here?” Nearly his entire being cried out to know he was okay, to see so he knew for himself. “I need him.”

  Nanna shook his hand. “I don’t understand. Pavle is leaving.”

  Chris opened his eyes once again. “Where is he going?”

  “He’s going home because he said you told him to.”

  Chris gasped and tried to get up. The beeping starting again.

  “Just stay there. It’s okay. You need to stay in bed.”

  “But Pavle is leaving?” Chris asked as people rushed into the room.

  “You need to rest and calm down.” The nurse leaned over him, pressing him back onto the mattress. “Please. You just came around, and things can be a little confusing. Relax and lie still. I don’t want to have to give you anything to make sure you do.” She checked things over. “Now lie quietly, and no getting up. I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.” She left the room again.

  “Nanna, you have to get Pavle. I need to talk to him.” Chris raised his hand, holding hers. “You have to. Don’t let him leave.” Fatigue set in, and as much as Chr
is wanted to stay awake, his eyelids became heavy, and he wondered if the nurse hadn’t slipped something into his IV. “Please, Nanna.”

  “Just go to sleep.” She patted his hand, and Chris lost the fight, slipping to sleep.

  HE WOKE multiple times over the next few hours, each time hoping Pavle would be there.

  “Mom, Dad,” he said softly to his parents sitting by the bed, talking. “How are you?”

  “Sweetheart, that’s what we should be asking you.” His mom smoothed his hair off his forehead, then picked up a cup of ice.

  “I’m awake and alive, and from the fact that everything hurts, I must still have all my parts.” Chris accepted an ice chip and swallowed gently, the pain diminishing as his throat remoisturized. “Thanks. How long have you and Dad been here?”

  “We got here the day after the shooting, so six days, I guess.”

  Chris was a little surprised his father didn’t go down to hours and minutes. He had this thing about giving precise answers to every question.

  “I’m sorry I scared you.” He accepted another ice chip as he processed what he’d just been told. A week. I’ve been out of it an entire week. “Where’s Nanna?”

  “We sent her home a little while ago. She’s been here every day for hours, and she needs to get some rest,” his father answered, barely looking up from the newspaper he was reading. “She said she’d be back in a few hours.”

  “Tracy, that’s enough. Why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and get yourself something to eat? You’re getting grumpy, so maybe your blood sugar is low.” She glared at him, and his dad stood and left the room without another word, for which Chris was grateful. “Are you still thirsty?”

  “Yes. Can you see if I can have some juice or something?”

  His mom left the room and returned with the doctor and a nurse, who pulled the curtain and folded back the covers.

  “You’re very lucky. We had to do a lot of work to put your insides back together.” He checked the bandages and shone lights in his eyes. “It was very touch and go for a while. So you need to lie still and let yourself heal.” He stopped fussing and stood near the foot of the bed. “You’re going to be weak for some time as you heal, and we’re going to be on the lookout for infection for a few more days, but so far you’re doing very well.”

  “Okay.” Chris somehow managed to get comfortable but kept glancing at the door.

  “I’ll be in to check on you again.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” his mother said as his father returned.

  Chris closed his eyes to rest and so no one would see how worried he was. Pavle was leaving because he didn’t think Chris wanted him to stay? Chris used the quiet time to try to figure out how that could be. Yes, he hadn’t tried to pressure Pavle. But maybe Pavle had interpreted Chris letting him make his own decision as Chris not wanting him here. God, this was a mess, and he was stuck here and couldn’t move. Meanwhile, Pavle could be leaving the country and Chris would never see him again. The thought made him sick.

  “Dad, I need your phone,” he whispered.

  “Yours is on the table right there,” his dad said as he handed it to him.

  Chris thumbed through the contacts. He called Nanna first, but she didn’t answer, and then he tried Marie. Her call went to voicemail, and he left a message.

  His hand was shaking at this point, and his dad gently took the phone. “You need to relax and rest. I’ll turn on the television for you.” He got the remote and found a rerun of The Nanny, keeping the volume low.

  Chris ignored the television and closed his eyes once again. There was nothing more he could do at this time but try to sleep.

  “CHRIS.”

  Nanna’s voice worked its way into his dream. He opened his eyes and turned toward the sound.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Worried,” he said softly.

  “I know.” She turned toward the door, and Pavle walked into the room, keeping his gaze on the floor.

  As Pavle approached the bed, Chris lifted his arm. He took Pavle’s hand, holding it firmly. “Nanna says you’re leaving,” he asked, and Pavle nodded. “Why?”

  “You say I should go home?” Pavle whispered.

  “No. I said you could go back if that was what you wanted.” He held Pavle’s hand more tightly. “I wanted you to decide what you wanted.” His throat constricted, and he wasn’t able to talk. “I don’t want you to leave. You told me that you wanted home to be with me… at our house. I hope that’s still what you want.”

  Pavle nodded. “But what you want?”

  “I want you to stay,” Chris answered simply. “I want you to live here with me because I love you.” He tugged Pavle closer. “But you have to do what you want.”

  “Oh, for the love of Christ,” Nanna groaned.

  “Mother,” his mom said, sounding scandalized.

  Thankfully Nanna ignored her. “You both need to stop worrying about what the other wants and talk to each other.” She turned to his parents. “Come on, you two. You can buy me lunch while these two talk.” She took Chris’s mom’s hand and led her out of the room, with his father following.

  “Come here,” Chris whispered, and Pavle came closer. “I want you to stay here with me and live with me. That’s what I want. I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you that. But if you wanted to go back to Serbia, if you still do, I’ll understand.”

  “But I no want to go. I think you want me go,” Pavle groaned out as tears ran down his cheeks. “You no ask me to stay.”

  God, how could he have been so stupid? He should have known Pavle wasn’t going to understand the nuance of what he’d been trying to say or that he’d been quiet to let him choose. “I didn’t want you to think you had to.” Chris blinked. “So, I want you to stay. Do you want to stay?”

  Pavle sniffed. “Yes, I want stay.” He leaned down, and Chris carefully folded his arms around Pavle’s back.

  “Then live with me and love me just as much as I love you.” His own eyes filled with tears, and he held him as close as he dared. “Where have you been staying?”

  “With me,” Briggs said as he popped into the room. “Your grandmother got in touch with me, and she’s pretty convincing. She said that you needed to see Pavle.” He stood near the foot of the bed.

  “Thank you.” Chris lowered his arms, and Pavle straightened back up, wet patches shining on his cheeks, but Chris continued holding his hand.

  “You need to thank him. The EMTs at the scene said that Pavle kept you from bleeding out. He saved your life.” Even Briggs seemed to have been touched a little by Pavle’s actions, judging by the hitch in his voice.

  “What about the shooter?” Chris asked.

  “You wounded him, and he’s in custody. The FBI has him. Between Anthony, who is now scared for his life, and this guy, who the FBI has apparently been leaning on for a week, they’ve been rounding up suspects by the dozens.”

  “So do you think Pavle is safe now?” Chris squeezed his hand.

  “Yes, I safe,” Pavle said.

  Briggs nodded. “We think so. They have much worse issues on their hands, and Pavle’s testimony is much less important now that they have people from the inside who are talking.”

  Chris nodded, his eyes growing heavy once again as fatigue set in. “Did you find the leak?”

  “Not yet, but I will.” Briggs touched his other hand. “You concentrate on getting well. I’m going to need you back in top form as soon as possible.” He smiled. “You did an amazing job, and I’ve pointed that out to the sheriff. Your quick action saved countless lives and got all those people out of danger.” Briggs turned to Pavle. “And your quick action on him…. You both deserve a lot of credit for getting everyone out of that situation alive.”

  Pavle leaned over the bed, and Chris waited for him to get close enough before kissing him. “I kept looking for you,” Chris whispered.

  “I almost go.”

  Briggs stepped closer to the bed. “If you we
ren’t hurt, I’d smack you. Both of you. Even I know that you need to talk, especially with your language issues.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me get in the middle of things with you again. Romantic drama with my wife on occasion is about all I can take. I don’t need you two adding to it.”

  “Did the church buy his ticket?”

  Briggs shook his head. “Pavle was about to leave for Philadelphia in a few days, and they were going to process him through so that way we could figure out what was needed.”

  “Yeah. But he’s staying. Right?” Chris looked at Pavle with a smile.

  “Yes, I stay!” Pavle grinned brightly enough to light up the darkened room and send Chris’s heart and empty belly fluttering.

  “Then get with Marie and make sure she knows. We’re going to have to apply for asylum.” And God knew how much red tape that was going to involve.

  “I tell her,” Pavle said. “I happy now. I stay.”

  “Yes. You stay with me as soon as I get out of here. It’s going to be a few days before they let me go.” Chris rolled his head to look at Briggs. “Can he stay where he is for now?”

  Briggs rolled his eyes. “I think my wife would file for divorce if I didn’t agree. Apparently she and Pavle are redoing our backyard, and the two of them have bought out half a nursery.” He sounded gruff, but Chris shared a smile with Pavle.

  “Yard was ugly. No color. Now it pretty, and Gretchen can make pretty again next year.” He looked at Briggs as though he were crazy. “Flowers are pretty.”

  “If you want to stay, you’re going to need a job,” Briggs offered, changing the subject, probably because Pavle was impossible to argue with.

  “You can plant people’s gardens. I bet there are a bunch of lawn and yard services who would love your talents.” Pavle had a gift. “We’ll worry about that once he gets asylum and then is able to get a green card.” There were so many things that had to be hurdled before Pavle could legally work. Chris yawned as fatigue washed over him. He closed his eyes, still holding Pavle’s hand, happy for the first time since he’d woken back up. Pavle wanted to stay. Now they had to make it happen.