God Bless the Child

Chapter 18

Trixie and Honey were silent as they drove to Beth Abraham Hospital to visit Sammy.  They had spent a horribly illuminating day at White Plains Hospital where, thanks to Coop, they were able to look at some past records that pointed to an undeniable truth. Or at least, it would be undeniable after a toxicology analysis was performed.

After what they uncovered, they both felt a strong need to visit Sammy and touch his little face, make sure he was well. Safe. Happy.

“Oh Trix,” Honey finally said.  She kept one eye on the road as she glanced at her partner, the grim lines of Trixie’s face reflecting her own distress.

“I had better not see that woman today,” Trixie gritted out.  “I had just better not.”

Honey pulled into the familiar parking lot, turning off the engine and removing the keys.  “This is awful.  This is so awful.”  Her hazel eyes were stormy, her face drawn and tired.  She rubbed her forehead and sighed, a yawn escaping her throat.

In spite of her mood, Trixie couldn’t resist teasing her sister-in-law.  “Gosh, you don’t look like you got much sleep last night,” she said meaningfully.

A womanly smile replaced the black clouds forming on her brow for a moment.  “Mmmmm, I was a little busy after I left your house,” Honey replied, blushing slightly.

Trixie grinned.  “Ah, there’s no sex like mondo make-up sex!”  Last night, when Honey returned from her talk with Brian, she was more than a little rumpled, blushing furiously when innocent Katy wanted to know if she’d fallen down. 

Grinning, Brian hadn’t said a word, the dark shadowy look finally leaving his features.  He scooped his niece up when she ran to him, blowing a raspberry on her stomach while she screamed with laughter. 

“I’m going to miss my houseguest though,” Trixie said wistfully as they got out of the car.

Honey looped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a hug as they walked to the entrance.  “I’ll miss you guys too, but oh Trix, it was so good to be home.”  Trixie knew she wasn’t really referring to their apartment, and smiled.

“I wish we could take Sammy with us to Crabapple Farm,” Trixie commented as they got into the elevator.  “Is Brian going to be able to make dinner?”

“Oh yes.  He’s going to swing by the theater and pick Diana up from her rehearsal.  Mart went to the school to work on his article,” Honey explained.

“Work, work, work!” Trixie complained good-naturedly.  “Jim dropped Katy off at the farm this morning so he could get caught up on paperwork.”

“Well, what do you think we’ve been doing all day?” Honey pointed out, and Trixie had to admit she had a valid point.  As they got off the elevator, they spotted Meggie by the nurse’s station and waved at her to join them.  “What are you doing here?” Trixie asked, noting with relief that her jaw was no longer puffy.

“I got myself re-assigned to this floor,” Meggie admitted.  Before either woman could protest she added quickly, “I don’t go into his room unless the doctor or one of the nurses is there.  Honest.”

“Good girl,” Honey applauded.  She’d been horrified when Trixie told her what happened.  “Any sign of an angry, dark-haired man?” 

Meggie nodded.  “As a matter of fact, Mrs. Lewis’ ex-husband was here earlier.  He talked to the doctor for awhile and seemed pretty upset.”

The two women exchanged worried glances.  “Did he look familiar?” Trixie asked.  She remembered the furious look in his eyes when he pushed her, and unconsciously rubbed her upper arm.

Meggie shook her head.  “Uh uh.  But I never did get a look at that man’s face. He came up behind me and by the time I was able to look, he was heading out the door.”

“I’ve only seen the back of his head too, ” Trixie said, frustrated.  They walked into Sammy’s room just as the nurse was picking him up.  “How’s he doing today?” she asked, relaxing at Katje’s answering smile.

“He’s doing just fine,” she said as they gathered around her.  Sammy waved his little fists, gurgling happily at the attention.

“Any visitors?” Honey asked.

The nurse smiled in grim satisfaction.  “No.  And there won’t be—your friend was able to get a court order completely forbidding visitation.” 

The three women gasped in surprised joy.  “Oh God, that’s great! I wonder how she managed to pull it off?” Trixie wondered.

“It was the lab results that did it.  Oh, she can’t prove that Mrs. Lewis did it,” Katje hastily interjected, “but it was enough to convince the judge that no visitors of any kind should be allowed until this is resolved.”

Trixie grimaced.  “We shouldn’t be here, should we?”  At the nurse’s chagrined expression she continued, “Say no more.  We really need to get going anyway.” 

She bent down and gently kissed Sammy’s pink cheek.  “Bye darlin’,” she whispered. We’re not going to let what happened to your sister happen to you she thought, breathing in the unbelievably sweet baby smell that clung to him.  Sammy grabbed one curl and tried to move it to his mouth as Trixie gently disengaged the chubby little fist.

They stopped in the waiting room, goofy smiles on all of their faces.  “Joeanne must have a pretty good case if she was able to get that court order,” Honey said happily.

“I sure hope so,” Trixie said, but she couldn’t stop smiling either.  She turned to Meggie and gave her a bear hug.  “Do you have any idea how much you’ve helped with this case? You’ve been a great intern!”

Meggie felt warmth spread all throughout her body as she returned the embrace.  “Thanks,” she managed.

Honey felt like she could fly.  “Women of the world unite!” she said, spreading her arms.

Trixie grinned at her normally quiet friend.  “Hey, don’t leave out poor Dan.  He’s been with us practically every step of the way too,” she reminded her.

Honey’s face lit up with mischief.  “Ah, he’s getting his reward,” she insinuated. Trixie had told her all about Dan’s date and she couldn’t be happier for him.  She remembered how he looked when Joeanne asked him for a copy of his father’s music and grinned quietly to herself.  Oh Dan, you are one dead duck!

They all laughed as they got into the elevator, in such high spirits that their usual strong powers of observation were completely useless.

“Your friend Dan is sooooooooo gorgeous,” Meggie sighed, causing Trixie and Honey to break out into fresh giggles.

“Better not let Andy hear you talking like that,” Trixie advised.  She grinned wolfishly.  “But you are sooooo right, my friend!”

“He’s a hunka hunka burnin’ love,” Honey agreed in a singsong voice, the elevator filling with their happy sounds as they abandoned themselves to the moment.

Trixie and Honey were still laughing as they headed towards Honey’s car, leaving Meggie behind to wipe her eyes and think naughty thoughts.  “Dan’s ears must be on fire,” Trixie gasped as they got in and fastened their seatbelts.  They would have been shocked and sorry to know that Dan was, in fact, crying his eyes out at that very moment.

Honey drove out of the parking lot and made a left, heading for Route 100 for their return to Sleepyside.  It was just starting to lightly sprinkle, the breeze stirring up the leaves that lay in drifts at the side of the road.  She glanced in the rearview mirror to change lanes and frowned, an unpleasant prickling sensation starting at her hairline.  “Trix, I think somebody is following us,” she murmured.

Trixie brought the visor down, pretending to fix her hair in the mirror.  She saw what Honey meant immediately—not only did the dark haired man behind them seemed unusually intent, he was wearing sunglasses on a rainy day. “Speed up a little and change lanes.  See what he does,” she muttered, trying to get a fix on his face, but with the glasses, it wasn’t possible.

The man shadowed them, now practically on their bumper.  Their exit was coming up and Honey wondered aloud if they should take it or keep going.

“Keep going,” Trixie said tensely.  The rain began to come down harder and Honey turned the wipers up to their full speed, biting her lip.  She let out an involuntary squeak as she felt the first  jolt shiver through the car, and frantically grappled with the wheel as they started to fishtail.  The man behind them rammed the bumper again, and the next couple of seconds were like one of those dreams where everything seems muffled and in slow motion. 

There was no time to register the sickening sound of squealing tires or the dizzying spin as the car spun completely out of control, and yet all the time in the world.  Time to see loved one’s faces float sadly by, time for last regrets, for garbled prayers.

It was that time of evening that can be considered afternoon.  There were very few cars on that particular stretch of road, and only one man witnessed the final, mighty impact Honey’s car made as it smashed into a tree at the side of the road, ending the dream.  The man could feel blood streaming from a split lip as he exited his car; only one thing running through his mind.  All he wanted, all he desired, was for them to leave her alone.  For everybody just to finally, once and for all, leave her alone.

***

Jim looked at his watch again and sighed.  When Trixie was working on a case, she frequently lost track of time, and it looked like once again, this was the situation.

“Punctuality has never been one of my female sibling’s strong suits,” Mart said, guessing the reason for his brother-in-law’s annoyance.  The two men were sitting in Jim and Trixie’s living room, waiting for Trixie and Honey to arrive.

“You can say that again,” Jim muttered.  If there was anything he couldn’t stand it was being late, and they were expected at the Belden’s any minute.  He picked up the phone when it rang, sure it would be his wife, full of remorse and explanations.  “Yeeeeeees?” he said with exaggerated patience.

“Jim?” the voice was a little confused.  “It’s Di.”

“Sorry Di—thought you were Trixie,” Jim explained, beginning to smile at how odd he must have sounded.  He listened to her for a moment, his smile turning into a puzzled frown.  “That’s really strange.  It isn’t like Brian at all.”  He handed the phone to Mart saying, “Di says Brian still hasn’t showed up and he hasn’t called.”

Mart took the phone, a worried look filling his normally open face.  “Do you want me to come and get you, Princapessa?” He wished he hadn’t taken the car that morning, but it seemed like the best solution at the time—the twins would spend the day at Crabapple Farm, where they’d all meet up later while he finished an article he was writing.  What went wrong?

Diana spoke in reassuring tones.  “Oh Mart, it seems kind of silly for you to come all the way up here.  Now that the train stops at Sleepyside, I can just take that, and catch a cab out to your parent’s house if it comes to that.  I’ll just give Brian another twenty minutes.”  They spoke for a few moments, Mart looking increasingly troubled as he hung up the phone.  “Even if Brian had a medical emergency, he’d still have somebody at the hospital call Diana.  This is weird.”

Jim was nodding thoughtfully.  “It is weird,” he agreed, thinking about his sensible best friend.  Brian was nothing if not conscientious.  “Okay, I know I have a reputation for worrying, but Trixie’s not answering her phone, Honey isn’t answering hers and Brian has left Diana stranded.  Is it just me, or is something wrong with this picture?”

The phone rang again and he picked it up swiftly.  He listened to the voice on the other end for a moment, and when he barked “Are they all right?” Mart knew without a shadow of a doubt that something terrible had happened.

***

Jim and Mart burst into the Beth Abraham Hospital emergency room, rushing up to the nurse on duty.  “Trixie Frayne and Madeleine Belden,” Mart gasped, too out of breath for his normal extensive vocabulary.  “They were in a car accident.”

The nurse looked at the two men, their expressions softening her normal, harried work mode.  Gosh, they look like two frightened little boys!  “Hold on guys—let me check the computer.”  They waited impatiently while she tapped the keys.

“Hey,” a soft voice spoke behind them.  They whirled around to see Trixie, a bump above her eye, cuts and scratches covering her arms and face.  Jim’s heart leapt up into his throat and he swiftly embraced her without a word, holding her to him thankfully for a long moment.  He drew back and touched her face reverently.  “Are you all right?  What happened?” he asked when he could speak.  Mart took her hand, his relief at finding his sister in one piece obvious.

“I’m okay.  I...I don’t know what happened.  I can’t remember.”  Her voice was frightened; never in her life was she not able to have perfect recall of any event in which she took a part.  “They won’t tell me how Honey is,” she said, her voice starting to break as Jim took her other hand.  “Brian went in to her, but he hasn’t come out.”

“If you’re talking about Madeleine Belden, she’s in the ICU.  Head trauma.” The nurse they initially talked to looked at them sympathetically.

Jim and Trixie clutched each other, Mart tightening his grip on Trixie’s hand.  “Is she going to be okay?” Mart got out, the only one of the three who had any voice. 

“The best neurosurgeon on the East Coast is in there with her.  I’m sure she’ll be fine.”  The nurse came from around the counter.  “Have a seat right over there,” she said, pointing to a group of nearby chairs.  “As soon as we know anything, you’ll be informed.”  When they didn’t move she added gently, “This young woman needs to sit.” Jim and Mart jumped slightly, looking at Trixie with identical concern.

“I feel fine,” Trixie said, trying to reassure them, letting them lead her over to the chairs.  They sank down, Jim taking both of her hands in his.  “What do you mean you don’t know what happened?” he said quietly, looking at her intently.  Her lack of memory was disturbing—he couldn’t help but wonder if she was hurt worse than she was letting on.  He noticed her finger nails for the first time; they were torn and had obviously been bleeding.  “Your hands,” he breathed.

She looked at them, a frown crossing her face.  “I don’t know what happened to them.  The last thing I remember is joking around with Honey about Dan. Next thing I remember is coming to in the ER.  I called out for Honey but she wasn’t there.”  Her eyes filled with tears and she leaned forward, burying her face against Jim’s shoulder.

“Oh God,” Mart moaned in sympathy.  “And you don’t remember anything before that?”

“Nothing.”

“You were unconscious?  Maybe you should still be with the doctor,” Jim said, laying his hand on the back of her head.

“No, he said I was fine.  He said I passed out from smoke inhalation, not head trauma.”

“Smoke inhalation?” Mart asked.

Trixie’s voice was muffled.  “I don’t remember that either.”  She was clearly disturbed by her loss of memory; Jim and Mart exchanged worried glances over the top of her head.

“Excuse me—I need to ask you a few questions.”  Trixie raised her head and the three of them stared at the uniformed officer who had quietly approached them.  “I happened to be driving by; I was the first one on the scene,” he explained.  “How are you feeling, Miss?”  His ruddy face was genuinely concerned.

Trixie drew a shaky breath, determined to pull herself together.  “I’m okay, I guess.”

The officer took out a notepad.  “How much can you tell me about what happened?”

Trixie shook her head.  “Not much.  I can’t seem to remember anything.”

“Do you remember saving your friend’s life?”

Jim and Mart gasped, looking at her.

“I told you—I can’t remember anything.”

“Miss, I’ve never seen anything like it.  The car caught fire, your friend was pinned behind the steering wheel.  I radioed for an ambulance and got out to help, but you sure didn’t need any.” He stopped his narrative, looking at Trixie in wonder.  “I don’t know how you escaped being badly burned.”  He looked at the two men.  “She climbed into the back seat and somehow managed to pull the driver’s seat completely out of the track, away from the wheel.  The fire had evidently shorted out the adjustment controls.  Then you dragged her out of the back door.  That’s how you hurt your hands, miss.”  The officer’s voice was full of admiration.  “It was just in the nick of time too.  The car was completely consumed after that.”

Jim and Mart stared at Trixie, their faces white.  Jim was glad he was already sitting; he felt weak all over.  “Who hit them?” he managed, images of the accident all too clear in his mind thanks to the officer’s description. 

“The driver of the other vehicle managed to flee the scene.  I was more concerned about the young women’s safety than in pursuing him.  We’ll trace the car, of course,” the officer concluded, replacing his notebook.

The same images that were tormenting Jim were all too clear in Mart’s mind.  “Yes.  Please find the bastard that did this.”  His voice was full of emotion, his blue eyes, so much like Trixie’s, stormy.  The officer looked at him, his face serious.

“You can bet we will.  Probably some damn drunk,” he replied tightly.  “Thank God you’re okay miss.  I hope your friend is too—they told me at the desk that she’s still unconscious.”  He handed Trixie a card.  “If you remember anything, give me a call, all right?”  He touched his hat with an old-fashioned gesture and walked away from them.

“If I ever do remember,” she murmured, gazing at the card.  She looked at Jim.  “Now I know how Julianna felt,” she said, referring to Jim’s cousin who once experienced total memory loss after a traumatic accident.  “At least I know who I am.”  Her face was disturbed and unhappy.

“At least you’re all right,” he corrected, cupping her face and kissing her, the public display of affection doing much to improve her mood.  Besides, Mart always did it to them when Diana was around!

“I’m sure you’ll remember eventually,” Mart added, looking at his sister sympathetically, not disturbed in the slightest.  “Julianna had a lot more to remember and she snapped out of it,” he reminded her. 

“I suppose,” she sighed.  “I wish they’d tell us what’s going on with Honey.  I can’t stand sitting here and not knowing.”  She rubbed the back of her head, her voice tired and worried.

Mart stood up.  “I’ll ask the nurse again.  She seems pretty sympathetic—maybe there’s somebody she can page or something.”  He walked quickly away.

“Does your head hurt?” Jim asked, not liking the pale look of her complexion.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him, gingerly touching the bruise on her forehead. She glanced at Jim’s still, white face and knew he was fighting his protective instincts again, not wanting to smother her with concern.  She sighed inwardly, touching his cheek.  “Okay, I’m giving you 30 seconds to act like a mother bear with her cubs and that’s it!”

He looked at her and let out a startled laugh.  “Are you reading my mind again, shamus?”  He put his arms around her.  “Thirty seconds, huh?  Well, I’ll take what I can get.”  He pulled her close, hugging her in that complete way she loved.  “I just don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you,” he whispered.  “Is that so terrible?” He couldn’t hold her long enough.

“If it is, I’m just as guilty.  I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you either,” she whispered back.  She remembered a terrifying ride from White Plains to Sleepyside—she, Dan and John not knowing if they’d arrive in time to help him—and immediately wished she hadn’t.

“But I’m not the one with a black and blue lump on my head,” he joked.

“Mmmm, keep it up buddy—it can be arranged,” she bantered back, glad to feel some of the tension easing from his body.  Jim worried too much, but it wasn’t as if he could do anything about it, no more than she could do anything about her excessive curiosity.

“That’s it, talk dirty to me,” he said, causing her to let out a giggle.  Unfortunately, her head throbbed and she involuntarily winced.  She drew back, laying a finger over his lips.  “Sorry, thirty seconds are up,” she said, anticipating his concern.

He regarded her for a moment, but her coloring had returned.  He was hardly reassured, but it would have to do.  Mart came back and sat down next to them.  “Nada,” he sighed.

“Thank God—there’s Brian,” Trixie said, spying her oldest brother heading towards them, his face tired and strained.

“She’s going to be all right,” he said, sinking down on the chair next to Jim.  “She’s got one hell of a concussion and a few bruised ribs from being pinned against the wheel, but other than that...” he broke off, pulling his brother-in-law and sister into a hug for a long moment.  “It could have been so much worse,” he said, his tone anything but professional. Luckily, one of the volunteer doctors from his clinic recognized both Trixie and Honey, calling Brian immediately.  Brian doubted he would ever forget how he felt when he heard the news.

“Thank God,” Jim said, his voice low and thankful.  He knew if Brian was saying it, it must be so.

“Thank Trixie,” Brian replied, looking at his sister who blushed at the look of sheer gratitude.  “The highway patrol told me what you did.”  He laid his hand on her cheek.

“I just wish I could remember it,” Trixie replied, giving her brother’s shoulder a squeeze.

Brian pulled back and regarded her, his dark eyes concerned.  “Are you still experiencing memory loss?”

Jim was uneasy at the tone in his best friend’s voice.  “Is that serious?” he asked.

“No, no,” he hastened to reassure them.  “It’s actually quite common in a case like this.  It’s just, well, this is Trixie,” he finished lamely.

“Our sibling’s memory is normally a sharp tool of infallibility,” Mart put in, relief at Honey’s condition restoring his normal personality.  He patted Trixie’s leg.  “When you stop trying to remember, everything will come back to you,” he reassured her in a more normal tone.

Brian looked at Mart and visibly started.  “Oh man, Diana!” he began, his handsome face chagrined.

“Don’t worry about it, Brian.  God, it’s not like you don’t have the ultimate excuse,” Mart exclaimed. He shuddered at the very thought of Diana involved in a car accident.

“Can we go see her?” Trixie and Jim asked together, smiling at each other for having the exact same thought.

“She’s under sedation; she won’t know you’re there,” Brian replied, rubbing his eyes.  “But you want to see her anyway,” he added, smiling a little.  He knew how Jim felt; if the positions were reversed and it was his sister, he’d want to see her too.  And he could see by Trixie’s determined expression that she felt the same way.  “Finally ten years of higher learning pays off—I can get all of you in the ICU no questions asked,” he said wryly, standing up and extending a helping hand to his sister.

They followed Brian quietly, not wanting to draw attention to themselves as they made their way to the Intensive Care Unit.  They entered Honey’s room softly; she looked like a bruised angel fallen to earth, golden hair spread over the pillow, her breathing deep and slow.  Trixie could feel Jim’s hand trembling in hers and she leaned into him in wordless comfort. When you’ve experienced terrible losses in your life, you can never take the people you love for granted.  As hard as events like this were for most people, Trixie knew they were that much harder for Jim to handle.  She understood him deeply, this vulnerability making her love him even more. 

“She’s going to have a whopper of a headache when she wakes up, but she’s going to be fine in a few days,” Brian said, the look of relief on his face reassuring them more than his words.  “How’s your head?” he asked his sister, lightly touching her forehead with the back of his hand.

“You’d be surprised what a wallop those airbags pack,” she replied lightly, not wanting to worry her brothers or husband any further.  Truth was, her head was pounding so hard she could hardly think, the only thing she could smell was a kind of burlap odor and she was aware of an almost stultifying fatigue.

Jim wasn’t fooled. “I think I had five seconds left from before,” he said, pulling her into his arms, gently rubbing the back of her head.  She was steady, but her steadiness was fragile, as if she might lose control at any moment.  “You look like you’re going to pass out from pain any second.”

“Well, yeah,” she admitted, allowing herself to sag against him tiredly.  She managed to smile weakly.  “I can’t seem to get away from this place, can I?”  At least Sammy’s having a better day than I am, she thought, then at least I remember being here today.  That’s something, I guess.

“You need to rest, little sister,” Brian said firmly.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a prescription pad, swiftly writing.  He tore off the page and handed it to her.  “I know you don’t like taking stuff, but trust me on this one—get this filled, take one as soon as you get home and go straight to bed.  You’ll be feeling no pain within 10 minutes and you’ll sleep for hours, which is exactly what you need.”

In spite of her discomfort, Trixie was amused at his firmness.  She was suddenly glad that some things never change.  “Sorry Doctor Belden, but a couple of Tylenol will do me just as well,” she insisted, handing the paper back.

Brian sighed.  “I’d argue with you if I thought it would do any good.”

Trixie smiled at him.  “Not to worry—I’m wiped out.  Sleeping for hours shouldn’t be much of a problem.”  She looked at Jim.  “Who’s with Katy?” she asked.

“She’s at your parents,” Jim reminded her, feeling a tiny stab of worry.  It wasn’t like her not to remember these kinds of details.

“We should call them—they must be wondering where we are,” Trixie began, her voice a little stressed.  She felt a stab of pain behind her eye and had to grab Jim’s arm for support, swaying a little as everything swirled around her.

“I’m getting you home right now—Mart can fill them in on the way.” Jim silently congratulated himself for keeping the fear out of his voice.

Trixie was too tired to argue and she hoped she wouldn’t pass out again.  “Make sure you tell her we’ll be there first thing in the morning,” she ordered her brother, who smiled at her.

“Yes Mom!” he said.

“You’ll call if there’s any change?” Jim asked Brian as they headed for the door.

“Of course,” Brian replied, settling down in the only chair in the room.  “Ditto?”

“Of course.”

He watched them go, wishing that Trixie would take his advice about the medication, but not surprised that she didn’t.  He knew Trixie hated feeling like she was out of control, that she didn’t like the fuzzy head that comes with taking strong pain medication.

He turned back to his wife, gently pushing a loose hair out of her eye, tracing her eyebrow again and again.  He listened to the quiet sound of her breathing and finally let the tears he had been holding all evening slide down his face as he thanked God for sparing her.

***

“Okay, I’ll tell her.  Love you too.  Bye.”  Mart tossed the cell phone on the seat next to him and glanced in the rear view mirror at Trixie.  “Moms is having a cow, but I managed to convince her that you’re relatively unscathed,” he said with a grin.  “She says Katy has passed out from an overload of carbohydrates and sugar and not to worry about her.”

Trixie smiled.  “Translation, she gorged herself on Moms’ apple pie and is now fast asleep.”  She yawned hugely, feeling as if her face would split in two.  “I’m not long behind her.  See, I told you Tylenol would work just as well.”

“Feeling better?” Jim inquired, drawing her head down on his shoulder.  She half turned into him, her arm habitually falling across his chest, and he felt that familiar Jupiter-in-a-feisty-mood kick in the stomach, wondering why the depth of his feelings kept catching him by surprise after all these years.

“Mmm hmm.”  Trixie was having trouble keeping her eyes open, the pain behind her eyes finally fading to a more tolerable level.

“By the way, thank you for saving my sister’s life,” Jim said quietly in her ear, before brushing his lips across her temple.

Trixie’s hand flopped in a ‘don’t thank me’ gesture.  “My sister too,” she murmured without opening her eyes.  Jim’s voice sounded like it was coming from very far away.

“How’s our patient doing back there?” Mart asked.

“Fading fast,” Jim replied.  He listened to the steady sound of her breathing.  “Correction—out like a light.”  He felt a surge of tenderness; Trixie always was able to drop off like that, especially after they’d made love.  I could have lost her today.  Dear God, I could have lost her. AND my sister… His brother-in-law’s voice brought him back into the present.

“Guess we’ll have to carry her into the house.  Ah, brings me back to my college days,” Mart reminisced.  He grinned to himself, remembering one memorable evening when he, his roommate and Dan carried a passed out Trixie back to her dorm room after a party celebrating the end of midterms.  Poor thing’s such a lightweight, he thought affectionately.  I’m glad some things never change.

“Do I really want to hear that story?” Jim asked wryly.

Mart laughed.  “Probably not!” he admitted.  He made the turn off Glen Road onto the long driveway that led up to Jim and Trixie’s house.  “Do you think they’ll find the drunk driver?”  He stopped as gently as he could and turned off the ignition.

“Do you really think it was a drunk driver?” Jim asked, his eyes serious.

“Damn,” he said softly, turning around and gazing at his sleeping sister.  “You think it has something to do with the case they’re working on.”  It was not a question.

“I think there’s that possibility,” Jim replied, his face unhappy.  “And the answer is probably in Trixie’s memory.”  Mart got out of the vehicle, opening the passenger door as Jim slid out, Trixie lying limply in his arms. 

As he carried her into the house, he couldn’t help wincing at the contrast to carrying his bride over the threshold, feeling a bolt of anger at whoever had done this to Trixie and Honey. I’m giving you 30 seconds to act like a mother bear with her cubs and that’s it! Trixie’s voice whispered in his head.  Jim smiled grimly as he carried her upstairs.  If I catch up with that guy, it’s gonna be a lot more than thirty seconds, he thought to himself.

Chapter 19

I can feel her heartbeat

from a thousand miles

And the heavens open

every time she smiles

And when I come to her

that's where I belong

Yeah, I'm running to her

like a river's song

She gives me love love love  love, crazy love

She gives me love love love  love, crazy love

She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down

And when I come to her when the sun goes down

She take away my trouble take away my grief

Take away my heartache, I go right to sleep

                                                                                                        --Van Morrison

Dan took one look at the haggard face of the surgeon and knew.  He didn’t need to hear the doctor say, “I’m sorry; we did everything we could...”

Anybody who happened to glance at his face in that moment might have thought he was unaffected by the news that his former partner, Raymond Carter, was dead—killed in the line of duty while attempting to arrest the same kids that Dan himself had refused to bust a week before.  They would see an expressionless face set in stony lines, head slightly lowered, lips tightly compressed.

But those who knew him well would see muscles twitching in his jaw and throat, know the closed off stance for what it was—the worst kind of bleakness.

Dan forced himself to look unflinchingly at Ray’s wife—a tall, attractive woman in her late twenties, her normal air of quiet dignity gone as she let out an anguished wail at the doctor’s pronouncement.  She sat with her face buried in her hands while a much older man, obviously her father, stroked her back, his dark bald head bent protectively over her.  It took several moments for them to realize that Dan was silently watching them.

“I’m sorry,” Dan said, mentally cursing the stupidity of words that could do nothing, change nothing, mean nothing.

Grace Carter looked blankly at him, understanding nothing except for the fact that her beloved Ray was dead.  Ray had proposed by renting a billboard on the road he knew she took to work, “Marry me, Grace!” in thirty foot high letters almost causing her to swerve off the road, and now all that happy energy was gone.  Gone because nobody had ever taught Ray’s killer that there were other options, that getting caught was not the worst thing that could happen to you.

“Dan?” she finally croaked, placing him as Ray’s former partner.

“Yeah.  If there’s anything I can do...” he broke off, savagely thinking that his chance to do something already came and went.

For one awful moment, Grace had a similar thought, but to her credit not only was she able to read the guilt and pain flooding the man who stood before her, she understood the danger of such thinking, knew the potential destruction of misplaced anger and blame.

“There is something you can do,” she said after awhile, her voice trembling.  She leaned into her father, hugging his arm to herself.

“God, just name it,” Dan said fervently.  Her reply took him by surprise.

“You can stop thinking that you’re responsible for Ray’s...one wasted life is enough.  I couldn’t really bear...” she began crying in earnest, pressing her face into her father’s shoulder.  Dan appreciated the thought, but something this horrendous didn’t just happen.  Point A led to point B; somebody was at fault.

“Maybe you should just leave son,” the older man suggested quietly.

Dan nodded and began to walk away.

“Wait.”  That was all, but there was enough force in it to stop Dan in his tracks.  He slowly turned around.

“Ray told me all about what you said.  About those kids needing to be shown a different way of life, and why you didn’t want to arrest them that day.  He respected your decision.”  Grace Carter straightened up and blew her nose when her father handed her a handkerchief.

Dan felt so sick he almost fell down.  “He’d be alive right now if I’d done what he wanted that day.”  The words felt like razor blades, hurting his mouth and throat, but he owed it to her.

Grace shook her head as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.  “You don’t know that.  Only God knows when and why a life ends.’  Reminding herself of this would not be easy, but she knew she had to try.

Dan swallowed and replied huskily, “I’d sure like to believe that.”

“Try,” Grace urged.  She shook her head violently.  “The boy that shot my Ray is only 15 years old.  They told me he cried and asked for his mother when they arrested him.  Maybe if he’d gotten the help he needed sooner...” she buried her face again and Dan quietly left, slowly returning to his car as her words and his guilt played ping pong in his skull.

He drove aimlessly up one street and down another until he found himself near Joeanne’s apartment building.  He was disconcerted to realize he needed to see her more than he needed his next breath, understanding that for the first time in his life, he was completely, hopelessly and utterly in love with one person, a person who managed to look stunning even in sweats and an old college t-shirt, Dan thought when Joeanne answered his knock.  Harvard...Jesus, Dan’s thought continued as she regarded him in surprise.  She could instantly tell that something was horribly wrong.

“Are you okay?” she asked warily, wordlessly asking him in by taking a few steps back.  She wasn’t expecting him until much later.

Dan felt himself breaking and took a moment to get himself under control.  “No,” he admitted as he walked into the entryway.  He could see her small living room off to the left, the coffee table strewn with papers and cans of Diet Coke.  “You’re busy,” he continued, remembering that the trial started in a few days.  “I should go.”  He didn’t want to go.

When it came to empathy, Joeanne was on par with Diana Lynch-Belden.  She could feel sorrow coming off him in waves, could almost taste it in her mouth.  “It’s okay—I was just about to take a break anyway.”  She led him to the couch where they both sat down.  “What’s happened?” she asked simply.

Dan managed a lopsided smile.  “I must look pretty bad.”

Joeanne relaxed her leg until her knee leaned against his.  “You look like somebody’s just died,” she said unthinkingly, wincing when it was obvious she struck a nerve.  “Oh man, I’m such an idiot,” she cried, stricken.  She squeezed his shoulder in wordless apology as he told her not to worry.

“I got some very bad news today about my ex-partner.”

“At the Police Department?”

Dan nodded.  “Yeah.  He was shot.  Killed in the line of duty.  Remember those kids I told you about? That I wouldn’t arrest?”

Joeanne’s eyes widened in horrified understanding.  “Oh no!” she exclaimed.

“Oh yes,” Dan concluded grimly.

Joeanne put her arms around him.  It’s not your fault,” she said, rightly guessing at part of his anguish.

“But if I’d arrested them that day, it never would have happened,” Dan gritted out, pulling himself away from her.  He didn’t deserve the touch of the one he loved.  Grace was going without it, wasn’t she?  He felt a chill where her body had briefly rested and wondered if he would ever feel warm again.

“You can’t know that,” Joeanne protested.

“How can you say that?” Dan demanded.  First Grace and now Joeanne.  He wanted so badly to believe them.

“I can say it because it’s true.  Everything happens for a reason—you did what you had to do.”

“So you’re saying Ray was supposed to be gunned down?  Is that what you’re saying?”

Joeanne sighed.  “I’m saying that we just can’t know why certain things happen.  They just do.  And blaming yourself changes nothing.”  Her expression abruptly changed as the meaning of her own words sank in.

“Will you still feel this way if you lose this case and Sammy ends up dying?” Dan asked bluntly.  He heard her sharp intake of breath and was instantly contrite.  “God, I’m sorry.  I can’t believe I said that.”

“It’s okay,” she said weakly, wondering if he could tell how much she loved him just by looking at her.  If she wasn’t one hundred percent sure before, she sure was now.  It’s only the ones we love the most that can hurt us, yet heal in practically the same breath.

He closed his eyes and leaned back, a heavy feeling settling like a hot brick over his chest.  “Ray has a son,” he muttered shakily, and it was the thought of ten-year-old Ray Junior growing up without a father that finally broke him.

He was dimly aware of his head ending up somewhere in the vicinity of her neck and shoulder, but nothing else for long moments of choking, wrenching sorrow.  He hadn’t once cried when his mother died 13 years before, or when his first foster father shoved him into a wall, calling him one of God’s mistakes.  He hadn’t cried when the girl he’d befriended when he first lived on the streets was killed, or when the gang he joined made him think that his only choice for survival was to break the law.  Crying was a luxury he could ill afford—it was safer to pretend that nothing affected you.  To care enough to cry meant leaving yourself open to all kinds of dark potential.

He cried for them all—his beautifully sad mother, his forever young father, the old man who’d begged him to just take the money, take it, take it, just don’t hurt me while he’d stood there feeling as if the world had come to an end.  He wept for feeling like he was a million years older than the kids at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High when he first went there, and the helpless rage he’d felt when he couldn’t even blame Trixie for thinking he had something to do with the disappearance of Honey’s watch that time; hating himself when he made Honey cry.

He’d mugged an old man when he was 14 so that he wouldn’t have to sleep on the streets anymore.

Ray’s son would finish growing up without him because a 15-year-old boy didn’t know there were other choices for him besides mindless violence.

If Trixie and Honey hadn’t interfered, Jim would have ended up a drifter, growing hard and bitter as the years passed, his dreams of the future fading until he’d barely remember them.

Choices.  Second chances.  Knowing that even one person gave a damn about what happened to you.  A shoulder to cry on...

Dan finally came back to himself, strangely unembarrassed considering he’d spent the past several minutes bawling all over the woman who was rubbing his back, murmuring in a soothing tone how everything would be okay.  He found himself willing to believe her.

“Man, I’ve gotten you all wet,” he said with a half smile as he slowly straightened up, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Joeanne glanced down at her sodden t-shirt.  “Tear Drops on My Boobies, a Country and Western classic.  Didn’t Tammy Wynette cover that?” she gently teased.

Unbelievably, Dan felt a grin filling his face.  This woman was a keeper.  He didn’t care if she was still hung up on some other guy.  He’d take what he could get and appreciate every moment.  “You are something else, you know that?” he asked before lowering his head and kissing first her cheek then her slightly parted mouth.

The heat she’d felt the other day when he’d touched her hair returned full force and she surrendered to it with a soft moan, burying her fingers into the nape of his neck.  He responded instantly, pulling her so close her pulse pounded.  Richard had never spent much time kissing her, had never explored her mouth as if it was a banquet set before a starving man.  Richard never tasted me, she thought dimly, his image abruptly and thankfully erased forever as Dan’s tongue eased its way into her mouth.  An almost desperate need filled her and she was awed at its intensity, that she could want this much a revelation.  Her head lolled back as he kissed his way down her neck, never wanting him to stop.

“Take it off,” she half whispered, half moaned as his hands drifted down the sides of her shirt.  She almost cried at the reverent way he groaned her name as he complied, letting her know that he was just as affected as she was.  “Dan…Dan,” she murmured as the assault on her senses continued and even though she didn’t dare hope that he loved her too, she was happy to give the comfort he so obviously needed, accepting it for what it was, deciding to cling to the fairy tale for as long as it lasted.

***

Dan slowly came awake in the pitch black darkness, sleepily confused for a few seconds until everything came back to him in a rush—Ray’s death, Grace’s terrible grief, the unbearable guilt.  Making unbelievably hot, passionate love with Joeanne...

His eyes were growing accustomed to the dark, but he could barely make her out.  He felt rather than saw her lovely face resting against his chest, felt the warm tickle of her rhythmic breath against his skin as she sweetly slept.  His heart constricted—he’d never felt so happy, yet the remnants of shock, grief and disbelief over his former partner’s death remained a sharp stab in his belly.  But the one thing he did not feel was guilt, he realized to his surprise.  The guilt had transformed into a rich pain over the senselessness of it all; two lives were destroyed today, he thought. Wasting time feeling guilty is an insult to Ray—I have to find a way to prevent this from ever happening again.  The young boy, Ashton, floated into his mind for a moment and he suddenly knew what he had to do.

Joeanne stirred and wakened, breathing in Dan’s warm scent and rubbing against him like a contented cat.  “Hey,” she murmured, sliding up until her face pressed into the side of his neck.  She began softly kissing him on the jaw she’d admired from day one, languorously pleased at the freedom she felt, at the indescribable feeling of knowing that your touch is not only welcome, it’s craved.  Maybe it wasn’t love, but it was so special, so wonderful lying in the dark and feeling the warmth of him suffusing her skin.  She loved him so much she thought she might actually die, and for the moment at least, it was enough.

He pulled her on top of him and was just beginning to kiss her deeply when her phone began to ring.  “Don’t answer it,” he murmured into her mouth.

“No worries, gorgeous—I couldn’t get up if my life depended on it,” she moaned back impulsively, causing him to laugh and kiss her harder.  They could barely hear Joeanne’s outgoing message, but there was no mistaking the sound of Jim’s voice coming through the answering machine.

“Hi Joeanne, it’s Jim.  Trixie and Honey were involved in a car accident earlier...”

Dan and Joeanne froze in mid kiss, their hearts pounding from more than loving as they listened to the rest of the message, too stunned to remember to pick up the receiver, the second phone sitting only inches away on her nightstand.

“...they’re okay, thank God.  Trix is here at home, she’s fast asleep, and Honey is still in the hospital with a concussion and bruised ribs.  But listen Jo; I think there’s every possibility that our favorite dark haired loony had something to do with it.  I don’t want to scare you, but you could be his next target.  If your office won’t provide protection, I’ll hire somebody myself, or I’m sure Dan will want to help out.  Just be real careful, okay?  Bye.” 

Joeanne let out her breath in a rush as Dan sat up, his emotions going all over the place.  He wanted to rush over to Ten Acres and see Trixie; he wanted to check up on Honey, he never wanted Joeanne to leave this room.  He began to hyperventilate slightly, finally deciding to focus his immediate attention on Joeanne as Trixie and Honey were obviously asleep and out of danger.  At least for now.

“I’ll take care of you,” he began and stopped, realizing how ridiculously old fashioned that sounded.  “I mean...”

“Dan, you’re in danger too!” she cried.  She threw her arms around him and began shaking at the thought of him being taken way from her.

He stroked her hair.  “I don’t think so, honey.  I’ve been mostly behind the scenes, making phone inquiries and stuff.”  He thought about the visit he and Trixie had made to Mr. Lewis, but remembering how the man ducked back into the house and shut the door, he doubted he had anything to worry about on that score.  “And anyway, I can take care of myself.”

“So can Trixie and Honey,” Joeanne reminded him.  She felt her face grow warm, but couldn’t stop herself from adding, “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”

He brushed her cheekbone with a kiss so tender she thought her heart would explode.  “Nothing’s going to happen to me.  And anyway, you’re who’s important here.  You and Trixie and Honey.”

Joeanne knew better than to argue.  “You really love them, don’t you?” she asked, wishing that she could include herself in that statement. Wanting and loving were not the same thing.

I love you too he thought, but didn’t say it.  If he scared her away now, he’d never forgive himself.  “Yeah.  They’ve got my back.  There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for them.”  Or you, he finished silently, wrapping his arms around her.  He found himself wondering how Jim survived through the time that Trixie was missing years ago—just the thought of the mysterious, dark-haired man laying a finger on Joeanne was doing funny things to his lungs.

“That’s wonderful,” she said, her voice deep with admiration and more. 

“You’re wonderful,” he said, and time disappeared again.

***

“I’ve never slept with anyone before,” he found himself admitting as early morning light began to fill Joeanne’s slightly messy, but comfortable, bedroom.

Joeanne chuckled softly, nipping his chest.  “Now I find that very hard to believe,” she said meaningfully, sliding one warm thigh over his.  Boy, if she were only back in school now, she’d have some stories to add to those late night discussions!

Dan grinned.  “No, I meant sleep.”  He wasn’t sure how to explain how the thought of sharing sleep with somebody always seemed way more intimate to him than sex—that there wasn’t a more vulnerable time in anyone’s life than when they were asleep.

“Wow,” she said softly.  His admission surprised her—he was so obviously a caring person she found it difficult to believe.  “Why not?” she asked.  Why me? she really wanted to know.

“I’m not sure.  I guess I just never met anyone I trusted enough.”  He wound his fingers through her hair.  “That’s not really true.  It’s more like I never let myself meet anyone I trusted enough.  I’m not proud of this, but I’m starting to realize that I’ve only dated women I felt very casually about.”

Joeanne’s heart missed a beat.  “And you don’t feel casually about me?” she made herself ask.

“No.  Casual is not the word that comes to mind,” Dan forced himself to say.  Before she could reply, he rushed on.  “Look, I know you’re not entirely over that man who was in your office the other day.  It’s okay,” he lied.  It was anything but okay.  “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything.  I just want you to be happy,” he said, and that much at least was true.

Joeanne finally remembered to breathe.  “You think I’m still hung up on Richard?” she said slowly, incredulously.  “Why do you think that?”

“You were so upset when he left your office the other day.  I thought it was because you still had feelings for him.”

“The only feeling I have for him at the moment is hate.  I know that’s an ugly thing to say, but I can’t help it.”

Dan felt a smile growing on his face as he let the realization that she wasn’t still in love with another man fill him.  “You hate him?” he asked happily.

“He hit me.”  Joeanne didn’t know she was going to say that, hadn’t planned on ever revealing that to a soul.

Dan’s happy mood disappeared as if it had never been.  “What?” he said softly, going very still.

“He was very possessive as the relationship wore on.  I broke up with him, but he begged me for another chance, which stupid me gave him.  Not long after that I found out I...” she stopped talking as the old misery filled her, choking off her words.  She took a deep breath and continued.  “I told him something he didn’t like hearing and he hit me; he pushed me and made me fall onto a coffee table.  I haven’t been with him since.”  There was so much more to the story, but she couldn’t bear saying the words aloud.  Blaming yourself changes nothing her own words gently reminded her, but she still found herself unable to go on.

The rage filled him until he couldn’t see.  “I’ll kill him,” he muttered, remembering the disdainful look Richard had given him as he exited Joeanne’s office.  “That son of a bitch,” he hissed between clenched teeth.  He remembered Joeanne’s tee shirt.  “He teaches at Harvard, right?  He’s a dead man.”  His words were thick with anger—he hadn’t wanted to pound on somebody this bad since Kyle Dalton, who was only alive and in prison to this day because Trixie’s ex FBI boss had gotten to him first.

“Dan, please don’t do anything.  Please don’t.” Joeanne begged, frightened at the intensity in Dan’s dark eyes.

“Why not?” Dan growled.  “I thought you hated him.”  I know I sure do.

Joeanne was ashamed as she realized the thought of Dan beating Richard to a pulp filled her with savage satisfaction.  But the thought of Dan in jail for assault did not.  “You’ll get in trouble; I couldn’t bear it.  Please don’t do anything.  Please,” she begged.  When his face remained stony she knew what she had to do to protect him.

“Oh God, please don’t do that,” Dan exclaimed as she began crying, the sight of her tears threatening to tear his heart right out of his chest.

She pressed her wet face into his throat.  “Say you won’t do it,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Damn it,” he said gruffly and her heart soared.  You don’t know how lucky you are, Richard she thought to herself.

“If he makes his slimy way back to my office, and you happen to be around, I certainly wouldn’t object if you scared the crapola out of him though,” she said primly.  She thought of the darkly dangerous expression in Dan’s eyes, and his obvious physical fitness and almost laughed aloud at the thought of it.  Richard wouldn’t know what hit him.  She knew she was being immature and didn’t care in the slightest.

Dan’s happy mood suddenly returned and he chuckled a little at her pronouncement.  “It would be my pleasure,” he said, framing her face and kissing her gently.

“You’re a keeper,” she said happily, smiling against his mouth.

“Even if I am an out of work bum?” he said teasingly, still feeling woozy over her choice of words.

“Shut up,” she said fondly.  “And anyway, you’re working with Trixie and Honey, so technically that isn’t even true.”  She sobered and looked at him.  “You’ll figure out what you want to do.”

“I know,” Dan replied.  “Actually, I think I have figured it out.  It came to me in the middle of the night.”

“Uh oh—I once thought I wanted to be an actress in the middle of the night!”

Dan grinned.  “This is better.  I know somebody my age going back to school is kind of ridiculous, but I want to get my Masters in Child Psychology.  I actually minored in it, so that’s got to help me get into a program. Remember how I told you they don’t have any programs in Juvenile Hall to help kids figure out where they’ve gone wrong? Well...”

“Dan, that’s fabulous! I think that’s an incredible idea.  And you couldn’t be more wrong about ‘somebody your age’—there were plenty of people your age in my classes at school.  Plenty.”  Joeanne’s voice was enthusiastic.

Dan was surprised.  “Really?”

Joeanne nodded emphatically.  “Sure.  It’s pretty common for people in their late twenties to want something different in their life.  Heck, this one woman at school was in her forties.  She was divorced, her kids all grown up, and she realized it’s always been her dream to be a lawyer.  So she’s going for it.  Part time, but she’s going for it.”

“Wow.  How old will she be when she finally makes it?”

Joeanne shrugged.  “Who cares?  The time’s going to go by whether she goes to school or not.”

Dan’s heart gave a happy thump at the thought.  “Now I just have to figure out how to pay for it,” he mused.

“You’ll find a way.  And there’s always student loans.”

Dan shook his head.  “I don’t want to be trapped into a monthly payment that goes on for 10 years.  The kind of work I plan on doing isn’t going to pay much.”

“Maybe not financially, but it’s sure going to pay a lot emotionally,” she quietly pointed out.   

So will being with you.  “It’s really what I’ve wanted to do since I was 15,” he said.  If somebody had told him before he came to Sleepyside that he’d be ever be this happy, he would have laughed in their face.  The boy he was then never thought for a moment that he could ever make a positive change in somebody’s life. 

He buried his face in Joeanne’s hair.  “Let’s go visit Honey and Trixie.”

Joeanne started laughing.  “It’s barely six o’clock in the morning,” she pointed out.

“Hmmm.  Guess we’ll have to kill some time first.”  He pressed his mouth into the satiny skin below her ear, feeling her shiver in response, and didn’t need to add anything else as they communicated in a way that transcended mere words.

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