Chapter 5

© Copyright 2005 by Elizabeth Delayne



He hadn’t called her, Trisha thought, as she walked stepped from the hospital’s elevator onto the third floor. She would have been surprised if he had. He would never be able to handle an adult relationship ... until he dealt with the most important one in his life.

He’d been running from God for years.

He was in the waiting room, alone. Gabriel had been in, had been the one to call, to let her know. Jason sat in the chair, his head buried in his hands, so very weary and ... empty. Around his eyes the skin was red where it had been nearly rubbed raw, a sign that he’d gone through this vigil alone.

“I brought you something.”

She watched him look up at her, his dark gaze blank, shadows under his eyes ... as if he didn’t really see her.

She held out the bag from a popular drive through. “It’s not dad’s, but I figured anything I brought from town would be cold by the time I got it here.”

Jason took the bag, stared at it, then set it down at his side.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. How’s Nicole?” She ran a hand over his head, couldn’t help but feel the love squeeze her heart. He looked so lost and alone.

“In surgery.” He swallowed, blinked twice–his eyes dry. “She should–the knife wound. It should heal.”

He swallowed again, and closed his eyes in shame. “He stabbed her, ran her over–or tried to. What kind of man is that?”

“He’s not you, Jason.”

“But I left her with him. All that time, I left her with him. In the old neighborhood. I can still hear it, hear the sounds, the shouting ... the constant goings-on. It’s all in my head. I know what it was like. I know what it was like for her and I left her there.”

“You’re here now ...”

“Because I didn’t trust her. She was out there because ...”

“She broke into my house tonight. She ... left this–“ He reached in his pocket, pulled out a wrinkled paper. Wrinkled and worn, crumpled, he’d obviously handled it—worried over it—a great deal.

Trisha read it, and closed her eyes on a sigh. “Jason ...”

“She’s in there because of me.”

“She’s in there because of your father. And if you were angry, if you were cautious, you were that way in part because of him as well. But you’re different now, Jason. Remember that. You have more on your side now then you did then,” she reached out, gently turned his head until she looked at her. Those dark brown Italian eyes were so lost.

“You have a Father who loves you. You know Him now.”

“He could let her die, Trisha.”

“He could,” she said solemnly–and saw the grief in his eyes, “but he could also help her to live. When she comes out, when she wakes up, what are you going to do then? How are you going handle that then? Think of that. Pray for that. That’s where God can give you strength, give you healing ... I don’t know. Give you answers.”

He let out a breath, reached out and captured her face between his hands. “I need you,” he muttered, “I haven’t told you before.”

No he hadn’t. She smiled a little, and reached up to grasp his wrists. For a moment she just let it soak in; let the words poor over a wounded heart.

“There’s something else, Jason. Nicole didn’t come down here to see you ... at least, that wasn’t her main purpose.”

“I don’t know what her main purpose was.”

“I do. She told me and–don’t look like that. I promised her I wouldn’t tell. But this changes things. Your father ...”

“What is it?”

“She wanted to ask you to take custody of your brother. He’s deaf, Jason, and your father hasn’t been trying to bridge that barrier. Not as he should. And he doesn’t care. He’s a bad influence, takes Dusty places, leaves him places ... with all sorts of people. Nicole said that things were getting worse. She hasn’t been able to get custody because of her record, even with the fact that he’s ... you’re brother’s not getting what he needs ... so she needed to see if you would try. No–she needed you to do it.”

“Dusty ...” his brother’s name sounded foreign on his lips. “I can’t take custody of a ... kid. He couldn’t be more than a ten year old.”

“What are the choices? Nicole came down here because she knew what kind of man your father is ... the kind of man who did what he did to her. If you want to do something for her, then try to bring your family back together. Take care of Dusty for her. He’s the closest thing to her heart.”

“Dusty ... he’s in New York?” His mind began to spin with questions—barriers. “This is South Carolina. I wouldn’t even know how to get started.”

“But someone will. Gabriel will.”

* * *

Gabriel shifted the shoulder strap of his carry on as he came out of the LaGuardia Airport and looked around for Julie’s bright red convertible—her pride and joy. She shared a small apartment with four girls, bought just about everything used or on sale, and put her money into her car. She had to—to have such a car on a social services salary.

He saw her, just as he heard the familiar quick staccato beeps from her horn. There she was—as familiar today as she’d been three years ago.

She had a new do. Her brown hair was short and curled out all over her head. Spunky, he thought with a small smile. So Julie.

“You’re more New York than ever.” He tossed his bag into the backseat and slid into the front. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“You work quick,” with barely a glanced in her mirror she slid out into traffic and down Grand Central Parkway, toward Triboro Bridge and the Bronx.

They’d met in Trenton, on his beat. She still worked there, still dealt with the system. But she had connections in New York as well ... knew where to start, what might work.

Gabriel leaned his head back against the seat and smiled. It felt familiar, if not good, to be back.

And familiar wasn’t always bad.

But he hadn’t missed the traffic, he thought, as Julie dealt with it.

“You only called me—“ she checked her watch with a flick of her wrist, “four hours ago.”

“It’s imperative we work fast.”

“I talked to my connection. They’ve already retrieved the boy from the apartment. Whatever you said lit a fire on them.”

“They’ve been watching Rossi for sometime.”

“And left the boy—what did you say his name was?”

“Dusty.”

“They left Dusty with him?”

“He was being monitored by Social Services—that’s all I know,” Gabriel muttered, but he understood too well the constraints. They did the job, and did the best they could, but too many—so many—fell through the cracks.

So did Julie. She worked within those constraints everyday.

Even today, they were all doing the best they could—out of their own districts, with fewer options.

“What’s his sign?”

“Like zodiac?”

“No—Like sign-language, Einstein. What you called me for? His name, how he signs his name?”

“His sister was in surgery when I left. Until this morning—I didn’t know Jason had a brother or that the brother was deaf. Why?”

“It might help—he would know we’ve talked to his sister.” She ran a hand over her face. “With what you told me, I don’t know what to expect. Anger, hurt, fear—any of those emotions apply.”

She glanced over at him. “You know what those emotions do to people. Even little boys. Especially little boys.”

All too well. There were too many ghosts in his past, children who’d crossed his path in the line of duty. So many children who were hurting.

And bound by red tape and good intentions.

“Grab some shut eye,” she eyed the traffic ahead of them. “This is going to take some time.”

* * *

She looked so much like his mother ... that dark skin, the dark hair.

And so many memories were with her in a hospital bed.

“Come on, Nicole.” He murmured—her hand in his. “Come back to me.”

“Jason.”

He turned, and looked up at Trisha from where he sat by his sister’s bed.

“Gabriel’s on the phone. Do you want to speak to him?”

He looked over at Nicole, and hesitated. He wanted her to see him, he wanted her to know that he hadn’t left her this time.

“She only just came out of surgery. I’ll stay with her,” she promised. “In case she does wake up while you’re gone.”

He nodded and reluctantly pushed himself to his feet. He felt old ... so weary and tired as he went and located the courtesy phone in the waiting room.

Gabriel was at the police station, working through the red tape. Dusty was at least in protective custody. He’d met up with his friend—an old girlfriend that Jason remembered. Gabriel had a couple of his friends he’d met while on the beat in Trenton working to do everything they could.

It was barely an assurance.

What was he going to do with a ten year old boy? His home ... where would he put him? If he needed a room for Nicole and Dusty, Gabriel would have to find a new place. And neither of the rooms were outfitted for women or children.

Though, Gabriel always told him a child would live a happy life with his game and entertainment system.

But for someone deaf? He knew nothing about it.

“I have a meeting with a judge in the morning to ask for an allowance for Nicole to move to South Carolina. It may take a few days. If we can get Dusty cleared, I’ll send Julie back with him on her own. As for me, the DA’s office doesn’t see a problem, but they’ve told me Nicole will have to come back, make it official on her own.”

“Just do what you can, man.” Jason leaned wearily against the wall and pressed his forehead against the cool surface as he briefly closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept more then the few hours he’d had before waking last night. “And whatever you need. It’s yours.”

“I know. We’re praying.”

“Thanks.”

Jason hung up, and stood there, out of sorts. He’d never depended this much on anyone, not in a long time.

I don’t know how to do this, he thought, and realized with a start, that it was a prayer. When had he prayed last for Nicole, for his actions?

“Jason?”

This time, when he looked over, it was to see that his minister had come into the waiting room with his son Layton. They were close to the same age and had hung out at times when Payton was in from Chicago.

Jason pushed away from the wall, reached to shake Rev. Lewis’s hand, then Layton’s.

“I was in town, picking up Layton from the airport. We heard about your sister,” the Reverend said it so simply, even though it was clear that Jason had never mentioned her. “How is she?”

“Stable. They said she was just sleeping off the surgery. They say ... she’ll be fine. Maybe some therapy—then good as new. It doesn’t seem that way, though.”

“You’ll feel better when she’s awake.”

He nodded.

“Is there anything we can do for you?”

The answer was immediate. “No. No, thank you.”

He glanced involuntarily down the hall, then back at the Reverend.

His eyes were full of ... understanding, gentleness, emotions he had never seen in his own father’s eyes.

“We know you want to get back to your sister, so we won’t keep you. Shall we pray before we go?”

The prayer was simple and heartfelt, for Nicole, for Gabriel, for Jason, himself. As the prayer ended, he looked down at where his hand had viced on the Reverend’s. It took him a moment, but finally, he let go.

“Sorry.”

“You’re in our prayers, Jason.”

“Wait—“ he said, without thinking it through. They hadn’t prayed for Dusty, knew nothing about the entire situation. “There is something that you could do ... see to, if you would.” HEY! and don't forget to e-mail me if you have a comment!




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