Bloody Point (17 page)

“I quit my job to take care of Wes. The doctors predicted I’d
last six months.” Trudy laughed softly. “I lasted twenty years.”

“Twenty years?” Jake asked. His mouth was dry. He couldn’t
imagine being paralyzed and helpless for twenty minutes, much less twenty
years. Nor could he imagine caring for someone who was.

“Twenty years of taking care of him. Oh, not without help.
Eventually, I hired nurses to come for part of the day, so I could get out. I
began teaching preschool in the mornings, just for a break. And Jim bought the
house next door and he and the children helped, too. Oh, I didn’t do it alone.
But I did succeed in having Wes spend his life in his own home.”

“And all this time, he was paralyzed?”

“Totally paralyzed, and unable to speak. For years I sensed
he knew what was going on around him, but his face was frozen in the expression
you see there.” She nodded toward the picture. “And so we had no confirmation.
I would talk to him as if he understood everything. I played his favorite
music. I would read the Bible to him and play tapes. I hung hummingbird feeders
outside those windows, and moved his bed so he could see them. In the winter, I
put a regular bird feeder there and dried corncobs for the squirrels. I tried
to create as stimulating an atmosphere as I could for him.

“I bought a puppy for me. With Wes paralyzed and no children
around, I needed something energetic to remind me how lively things could be. I
bought a Springer spaniel, Jazzie’s mama and she was my companion for thirteen
years.

“And then, a few years before Wes died, technology gave us a
gift. They developed a computer sensitive to eye movement. Wes was one of the
first ones to try it out. He’d lie in his bed and move his eyes and spell
things out. He could even play games. Oh, what an amazing thing! For the first
time he was able to communicate!

“We discovered then that he had retained his full cognitive
function. He just was unable to move or speak.”

Jake’s heart literally ached. “So he was frozen in his body.
That had to be awfully frustrating!”

“Oh, I know. And he couldn’t do a thing about it. He couldn’t
even kill himself if he’d wanted to.”

Jake glanced away.

“But do you know what? Wes coped. Somehow, he coped. And not
only that, he still was able to love. Every morning, when he signed on the
computer, the first thing he said was, ‘I love you, Truly.’” Her eyes misted
over. “That was our little joke, our pun. He used Cassie’s pet name for me. Isn’t
that sweet? I felt like he cherished me, right up to the end.”

Jake sat motionless, his elbows resting on his knees. “He
must have been an incredible person. And you, too, for sticking with him.”

“It’s funny. I miss him terribly now.” She laughed softly.
“Strange as that sounds. I’m happy for him, because I know he’s in Heaven,
totally healed, but I miss him. Every time I walk in this room, I automatically
look for that big hospital bed. And it’s not here any more. All I have is my
little Jazz.”

A comfortable silence fell between them, a sacred pause.
Finally, Trudy stood up. “Jake, you must be hungry. Please let me fix you
something to eat.” Before he could protest, Trudy went into the kitchen and
began to pull food out of the refrigerator: salad, meat loaf, potatoes. Soon
the kitchen was filled with wonderful smells. Jake followed her in, and stood
watching her, lost in thought.

“You must have really loved him,” he said.

“Loved? Oh, yes, I loved him in that young married,
not-a-care-in-the-world kind of way. After his accident, though, it was often a
matter of choosing to love him every day.”

“Choosing to?”

“Yes. Every day.” She put some biscuits in the oven. “I
discovered love is an action, not a feeling. It’s a commitment played out over
time. It’s just doing the best for somebody else day after day after day.”

“But in the process, you kind of got left out. I mean, what
happened to your dreams?”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“You could have divorced him. Married again.”

“No.” Trudy tossed the salad. “The way I saw it, I was going
to honor my vows.” She filled a plate with food and put it in front of Jake,
who was sitting at the farm table. “For better or for worse, in sickness and in
health.”

“Thank you,” he said, picking up a fork. “You are amazing!”

Trudy laughed.

• • •

Hours later, after Trudy had gone to bed, Jake still couldn’t
sleep. He wandered through the parlor and the kitchen and then was drawn to the
large room where Wes had lived. Jake turned on a light and scanned the room,
trying to imagine what it must have been like to spend twenty years totally
paralyzed, unable to speak or move but fully aware of your surroundings. He
shivered.

Trudy’s Bible caught his eye. He walked over the to table by
the recliner, picked it up and opened the black leather cover. On the first
page was an inscription: “To my wonderful wife, Trudy, on our first
anniversary. All my love, all my life, Wes.”

The poignancy of it caught Jake’s heart. He sat down in the
recliner and leafed through the book. Near the back, where a ribbon marked Trudy’s
place, he began to read.

†

Bloody Point

Chapter 17

T
HE next morning, when
the sun was still low in the sky and the grass was wet with dew, Jake went
outside and rummaged around in the shed until he found what he wanted: some
work gloves and a strap, actually an old dog collar. Next to the door was an
axe, and the blade was still pretty sharp. He picked it up and walked outside,
to the oak tree lying across the grass.

Resolutely, Jake shoved his right hand in the glove, working
to get his fingers in right. Then he fitted the axe in his hand, and wrapped
the dog collar around it to hold his hand in place. He grabbed the axe handle
with his left hand, and using the muscles of both arms to power the axe and his
left hand to guide it, he began to chop up the fallen tree, blow by blow.

He might be hurt, but he wasn’t paralyzed. He wasn’t lying in
a bed, totally helpless. It was time to get up and do something. Even if it was
just chopping up a tree, it was time to do something.

† † †

On Thursday Cassie filled her car with two more bags of
Mike’s clothes for Jake. She needed to go see him. After going through
Frederick Schneider’s Palm Pilot, she had some questions. Maybe, if she talked
to him, Jake would remember something. So she’d called in to work and told them
she’d be out most, if not all, of the day. Nobody seemed to care, as long as
she was getting her stories done on time.

The large majority of the names in Schneider’s contact
directory were normal entries: his doctor, his dentist, his wife, his brother,
and so on. But four were curious. They were identified only with initials: “D,”
“J,” “M,” and “F.” The first one was easy: “D” stood for “Desiree.” The phone
number matched the one Cassie had. The other three were a mystery. She’d called
the second one: it was the cell phone of a teenage girl. Why?

She knew she was going to have to give the Palm Pilot over to
the Bureau. Their access to phone information was much better than hers would
ever be. Plus, it was evidence. Evidence! What was she doing holding onto it?

She crossed over the Bay Bridge, turned south on Route 50 and
made her way back into the country until she drove up the lane leading to Aunt
Trudy’s house. When she saw the Bureau car parked in the driveway, her stomach
dropped. She was in trouble. In a flash, she considered driving past the house
and back to Annapolis. But she couldn’t! She’d come to see Jake. She had to go
in.

“Hello?” she called as she walked in the front door. Jazz
came racing to greet her.

“In the kitchen, honey!” Trudy called.

Cassie hugged the bags of clothes to her chest like body
armor, as though they would shield her from what was to come, and she walked
back. Jake was sitting in the big chair in the corner, a pair of work gloves
next to him. Aunt Truly sat in one of the Windsor chairs, and Craig Campbell,
dressed in a tan business suit, white shirt, and tie, stood next to the
refrigerator.

Her stomach knotted up. “Hi, Jake. Craig.” She gave her aunt
a smile. “Hello, Aunt Truly. Do you feel like you’ve been invaded?” And awkward
silence followed. She put down the bags.

Craig leveled his blue eyes on her. “You should have told me,
Cassie.”

“I was handling it. Jake didn’t want the Bureau to know where
he was.” Cassie opened a cabinet door, got out a mug, her favorite blue pottery
mug, and poured herself a cup of coffee. The smell told her it was freshly
made. She inhaled it, bracing herself.

“You put him at risk.”

“I did not!” She turned to face Craig, her eyes blazing.

“You absolutely did! And not only him, but your aunt.”
Craig’s face was tight with anger.

“I was careful. I didn’t tell anyone he was here!”

“Oh, really? Like your father?”

She snorted. “Who’s he going to tell? The ospreys? A few
oysters maybe? Now there’s a threat.”

Craig pointed his finger at her. “People talk. What if
someone was watching you? And followed you here?”

“Nobody followed me.”

“They could have.”

“I was careful!” She paced away from him. She felt the
familiar anger rising. “I was incredibly careful. I was watching for that as we
drove down here … I made odd turns, I varied my speed, I looked for blue
headlights …” Cassie stopped short. Why had she said that? How stupid!

“For what?” Craig and Jake asked simultaneously.

Furious with herself, Cassie didn’t answer. She turned toward
the cabinet and took a long drink of coffee. It was black and hot, too hot to
drink that fast, but she didn’t care. Why did she open her big mouth? Why?

When she turned around, Craig had his back to her and was
rubbing his neck, one hand on his hip, his jacket pushed back. He was staring
at the floor as if he were planning his next move.

Jake was sitting forward in the chair, focused on her, his
dark eyes intent. “What, Cass? What about blue headlights?”

She could never escape that stare. Jake knew her too well.
“Nothing. I was just looking for anything that … that looked wrong. Just, you
know, anything weird.” She leaned back against the sink, crossed her arms in
front of herself, and fumed.

“Has someone been following you?” Jake demanded.

“I’ve seen some headlights lately that look similar. Blue
headlights. Those halogen things. That’s all. It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have
even brought it up.” She shouldn’t have opened her mouth, she shouldn’t have
come here, she shouldn’t have left the Bureau, she shouldn’t have to explain
herself to these two men.

Craig turned around, and Cassie confronted him head-on.
“Forgive me for trying to help my friend. I thought the job the almighty Bureau
was doing taking care of Jake was less than effective. Inhumane is perhaps a
better description. Shipping him off like that, without any kind of emotional
support, as he tries to come back from that kind of injury … it was ridiculous.
Ridiculous.”

She turned to Jake. “I’m sorry, Jake, if I’ve hurt you
somehow. I was simply trying to help. And Aunt Truly, you know, I would never
do anything that would endanger you. I’m sorry if this has upset you.” Then she
pushed past Craig and walked out the back door.

Cassie stormed out into the back yard. High in a poplar tree,
a mockingbird called out. She forced herself to stand still, feeling the heat
of the sun, letting it boil out her anger. What now? What was next? She heard
the screen door open and shut behind her, but she didn’t move.

She heard Jake’s voice. “Hey, Cass,” he said softly, but then
he stopped, and there was an odd noise. When Cassie turned around, Jake was
falling.

“Oh, no!” Cassie caught him. His weight pulled hard on her
shoulders and she cried out, trying to ease him to the ground. The back door
opened and Craig came running out, followed by Aunt Trudy and Jazz.

Jake lay still, his head turned to one side. Cassie loosened
the collar of his blue chambray shirt, one of Mike’s that she had given him,
and she put her fingers on his neck, feeling his pulse, trying to calm the
pounding of her own heart.

Craig bent down beside her, on the other side of Jake. He
straightened out Jake’s legs to make him more comfortable and felt for his
pulse in his wrist. “Did he hit his head? Going down?”

“No.”

Trudy grabbed a towel off the clothesline, folded it, and
brought it over, and together Cassie and Craig put it under Jake’s head. Jazz
laid down close to Jake.

“So this is how it happens? No warning?” Craig asked.

“Yes. This is what happens. This is what he’s been dealing
with. Sometimes he can tell it’s coming. His right hand begins to close and he
says he gets a metallic taste in his mouth. But if he’s distracted he may miss
the signs.”

Craig took a deep breath. He picked up Jake’s hand again,
checking his pulse at his wrist. Jazz growled softly at him. “I guess I’m the
bad guy,” he said.

Cassie stroked Jazz’s head. Forced to focus on Jake, her
perspective was returning. “No, you’re not, Craig. It’s been … a difficult
time.” She glanced up at Trudy. “Look at how Jazz is lying on him. Isn’t that
odd? It’s almost like she’s trying to protect him.”

“She doesn’t usually take to men,” Trudy responded, “but
she’s been following Jake around ever since he got here.”

Craig stood up and walked to the back steps, pulled off his
suit jacket, and sat down, draping the coat on the step next to him. “So now we
wait?”

Cassie kept her eyes on Jake. “Now we wait.” She slipped her
hand into his useless right hand, and stroked the back of it. “The longest I’ve
seen is half an hour, but often it’s just a couple of minutes.” She glanced at
Craig.

“He’s got to be frustrated with this,” Craig said.

“Can you imagine, going from who Jake was, the marathon man,
the one we all looked to as a role model for fitness, to not being able to walk
across a yard without worrying about passing out, not being able to drive, not
being able to live on your own, to … to use his right hand … it’s got to be one
of the most devastating … ” Cassie trailed off, glancing involuntarily at her
aunt, thinking instantly about her Uncle Wes. Devastation came in all shapes
and sizes.

Craig reached down, plucked some grass, and rolled it between
his fingers. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I think you’ve done a lot for him,
Cassie.”

She looked up, surprised.

“He wouldn’t even talk to me when I called the rehab center.
He was withdrawn and depressed. Now, he seems a lot healthier, mentally.
Happier. He told me what you did … getting Tam to bring the kids to the park.
That was wonderful. Very kind.”

Cassie nodded, grateful for his words.

“I’m sorry I was angry. I’m concerned about his safety, your
safety, your aunt’s safety.”

“Jake would be safe in a cage, but I don’t think that would
be very good for him,” Cassie retorted. “How’d you find him, anyway?”

“When I was talking to you on your cell phone, I could tell
you weren’t as concerned as you would be if you didn’t know where he was. I
figured somehow you knew where he was. So I called your dad.”

Cassie frowned. “Who have you told?” Did Foster know? The
bigwigs at the Bureau? What would they have to say about it?

“I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Why don’t you just concentrate on finding out who attacked
him? And let us worry about our own safety?”

Craig studied her face. It seemed like forever before he
spoke. “I don’t think Jake’s being here is a good idea, Cassie. I’m sorry. I’ve
got to tell the Bureau, and I’m going to find him a more secure place.”

Cassie stared at him, furious.

“Mrs. Monroe,” Craig said to Aunt Trudy, “you’re a wonderful
person. Thank you for agreeing to take Jake in. I hope you understand. As soon
as I can move him, I will.”

“I understand, Mr. Campbell.” Trudy cocked her head and
smiled softly. “But I don’t agree.”

• • •

Emerging from a blackout felt like slugging through a swamp
in the fog. Gradually things began to come into focus, but Jake was exhausted
from the exertion of it. This time when he opened his eyes, Craig was there. He
kept trying to talk to Jake, but Jake couldn’t make sense of what he was
saying. The words were not coming through, and the sky … the sky behind Craig
was so bright! Jake closed his eyes again.

“I’ll wait,” Craig told Trudy. “I’d really like to ask him
some questions.”

“Would you like some coffee?” Trudy asked.

He readily accepted, and she left to go make it. While she
was inside, Jake opened his eyes again. This time, Craig and Cassie were able
to help him to a sitting position, and then to his feet, and finally into the
house, where he collapsed in the armchair in the kitchen.

Cassie saw that he was okay, that he just needed to sleep it
off. “I’ve got to go,” she said abruptly, and she left, too irritated to be
around Craig any more.

She was angry, angry she’d gotten caught in her deception,
angry the Bureau was now aware of where Jake was, angry with Craig for
interfering with what she was trying to do for him, and angry that he was
planning to take Jake somewhere else. Who was Craig to dictate what Jake should
do?

Suddenly she realized she hadn’t given Craig the Palm Pilot.
“Oh, well!” she muttered, and she knew immediately she should go back, turn in
the evidence, let the Bureau have it, but she could not make herself turn the
car around. Instead, she pressed down on the accelerator.

† † †

When Jake finally roused, he heard voices in the sunroom and
smelled coffee. Glancing over to the kitchen counter, he saw the coffee pot was
half-full. He stood up, fought to keep his balance, then walked slowly to the
counter. Steadying himself, he found a mug, and poured the steaming liquid into
it. The smell of it alone helped clear his head. Even the warmth of the mug in
his hand felt good. He took a big swig of it, black.

When had he lost consciousness? He searched his thoughts. The
last thing he remembered was walking outside.

He followed the sound of voices to the sunroom. Craig was
sitting on the couch. Trudy, who had her Bible open in her lap, was sitting in
her usual chair. She closed the Bible when Jake appeared at the door, and
invited him in. “How do you feel? Can I get something for you?” she asked.

“No. I’m fine. Thanks.”

“How’re you doing, guy?” Craig asked.

“All right.”

“Come sit down!”

Craig moved to make room on the couch. “That’s something,
Jake, blacking out like that. It’s gotta be hard.”

“Yeah.”

“And what’s the prognosis? What do the doctors say?”

Jake gestured angrily. “They tried all kinds of drugs.
Couldn’t get the mix right. They say they think the seizures can be controlled,
but man, they weren’t making it happen.” Jake took a gulp of coffee and looked
around. “Where’s Cassie?”