*****

Excerpt from ‘Timed Out’

Gary looked up into the face that he expected to belong to Captain Bailey, a pilot with the airline he had just used to fly back home to Chicago.  Instead, he found himself staring into the smiling face and hazel eyes of the enigmatic man he had come to know as Andrew.  The sandy haired man was holding out a pair of wooden crutches, the name and emblem of Hickory General Hospital clearly emblazoned down each side.  Stunned, Gary recognized them as the same pair that had followed him on his trip back in time.  The very same pair that he had used to foil Marley’s attempt to kill and discredit Lucius Snow during that fateful day in Dallas, in 1963.

Dazed, Gary had no idea, at first, what Andrew expected him to do with them.  Then a slow smile spread across his weary features, as he understood.  Reaching down, he quickly engaged the brakes on his wheelchair.  He then grasped each leg, one at a time, and moved his feet off the pedals before flipping them out of his way.  With the aid of his mom and best friend Chuck, he pushed himself to his feet and positioned the props under his arms.  Mindful of his dad and several of his friends, especially Marissa, standing less then ten feet away, he concentrated on his right leg.  At first, it seemed as if nothing was going to happen.  Taking his lower lip between his even white teeth, Gary poured all his will into the simple act of moving that one foot just a few inches.  Sweat beaded his brow as he felt that leg tremble slightly.  Then, to his overwhelming joy and relief, it slowly inched forward!  

Almost dizzy with a sense of elation, Gary nonetheless kept his mind focused on his Herculean task.  His job was only half done.  Keeping most of his weight on the crutches, he began to slide the left foot forward with just as much effort as it had taken for the right.  It hurt!  Oh, God, it hurt!  Muscles that had only recently relearned to move of their own accord protested at being forced to exert themselves.  Knees that had not had to bear weight for more than seven months threatened to buckle as he forced them to support him for just two more awkward steps!

Exhausted, Gary allowed his father and Zeke Crumb to help him sit, or rather collapse, back into the chair that his mother had slid behind his trembling legs.  As he tried to catch his breath, he was almost knocked backwards by Marissa’s exuberant embrace.  Gasping and laughing, he hugged her back with equal enthusiasm.  It was only then that he became aware of the crowd of reporters with video cameras aimed his way.  Miguel Diaz was there, too, snapping away with his 35mm camera.  For once, Gary didn’t care.  This had nothing to do with the paper.  This was entirely personal.

“Mr. Hobson, how does it feel to know you will walk again?” one woman asked, shoving a microphone in his face.

“Wwwon-der-fful,” Gary replied, unable to suppress a face splitting grin.  “G-good tto mmbe . . . hhhome . . . ttoo.”

His stammering speech startled the news crews for a moment, causing them to pause in their barrage of questions.  It was a brief lapse, but significant to Gary as he caught a look of pity flash across the woman’s face.  His smile became strained as he ducked his head to hide his obvious embarrassment.  The worst, though, was the shocked look on his dad’s face.  His father looked as if he had just been shot.  After that he let his mother and Chuck field all the questions, refusing to speak anymore.  A few minutes later, the pack of reporters was distracted by the arrival of the dignitary they had been there to interview in the first place.  It was at this point that Gary and his party took the opportunity to make their escape.

***************

Even the impromptu ‘surprise party’ at McGinty’s couldn’t perk up Gary’s dampened spirits.  He had been so . . . elated to be able to take those few faltering steps.  That moment had been the best thing he had experienced since the accident last May.  ‘So, why did I have to go and screw it up by opening my big mouth?’  he groaned inwardly.

Everyone was talking about the scene at the airport.  The ones who were there painted the event in glowing detail for those who had yet to see the newscast, which would not air until later that morning.  His dad was especially ebullient in his descriptions, feigning the looks of astonishment on the reporters’ faces.  Even Armstrong cracked a smile as Bernie related the expression on Gary’s face as that right foot slid forward.  Marissa was telling how she felt as Armstrong had told her, in excruciating detail, what Gary was attempting at the airport.

In fact the only one not practically glowing with joy, other than Gary himself, was Toni Brigatti.  She mostly stood off to one side, watching the young barkeeper as everyone crowded around him, showering him with unwanted attention. She wondered if he still held any animosity towards her for that night at her place.  The night when she had ‘seduced’ him while he was sick, injured, and only semiconscious from the medication he was on.  Their confrontation the next morning had been a disaster.  Instead of coming to any kind of understanding, they had been driven even further apart by her sharp tongue and that damned chip on her shoulder!  As she watched him now, she could only wonder if they had any hope for a future together at all. 

Feeling dejected, Gary nonetheless put on a pleasant front for his employees and friends before giving his mom a pleading look and a nod toward the office door.  Lois made their excuses and led the way up to his loft.  Once there, he wordlessly helped his mother put away his things.  As she hung his jacket in the wardrobe, he looked around at the once familiar room that now seemed so . . . alien.  While he had been recovering from that first devastating fall, Stan Kovaleski, the contractor he had once saved from an explosion, had come in and remodeled everything to make it more accessible for him.  There was even a set of parallel bars near the wall opposite the bed.

Gary found himself drawn towards the bathroom.  He paused in the open doorway, recalling all too vividly the last time he had been in that room.  Closing his eyes briefly, he waited for the flashback to hit.  It wasn’t long in coming.  Once more he could feel the bubbling water against his skin, see the warped reflection in the chrome of the handrail.  His breath caught in his throat as he felt the fingers of Savalas’ hand twist themselves into his hair, felt the water closing in over his head as he was forced beneath the surface.  Gary relived the shame and terror of finding himself sprawled facedown on the tile floor, naked and shivering, gasping for air.

As she put the last of Gary’s jeans on a hanger, Lois became concerned by his continued silence.  She knew he had been deeply shaken by those reporters reaction to his stutter.  It couldn’t have come at a worse time, either.  He had been soaring with the boost to his self-confidence those four hesitant steps had given him, only to come crashing down when he couldn’t answer that woman’s question without stammering.  He hadn’t said a word since, not even when they were ‘safely’ back home.  Whenever someone asked him anything, when they had been downstairs, he had merely smiled and nodded, or shook his head.  It was only when she had noticed how tired he looked, and had mentioned it aloud, that he had nodded with a relieved sigh and followed her upstairs.  Even now, when they were alone, he had yet to make a sound.

Concerned, Lois turned to see Gary with his wheelchair half in and half out of the bathroom door, hands tightly gripping the armrests as he stared into nothingness . . . and his memories.  He didn’t need to say anything.  She could see everything he was feeling, everything he was thinking in the play of emotions crossing his expressive features.  Gary was one of those people who, try as he might, could not hide what he felt.  Deceit was just not in his nature.  It was something he had been forced to learn in his dealings with the paper, but he had never been comfortable with lying.

“Are you okay, hon?” she asked as she eased up behind him.  “You’ve been awfully quiet since we’ve been home.”

“Dddon’ . . . ffffeel lllike . . . ttttal . . . k-king,” he mumbled haltingly.  “T-tired.”

Lois slipped her arms around her son, resting her chin on his shoulder.  “You have to keep trying, sweetie,” she murmured into his ear.  “I know it’ll be hard, but you’ll never accomplish anything by giving up.”

Gary reached up with a sigh and pulled her arms around him just a little tighter, tilting his head far enough to plant a kiss on her wrist.  “I knnnow,” he sighed.  “Mmbut nnnot . . . sssp-peak  pppu-mmblic.  Ppprrrivv-ate . . . ooonn-lly.”

“As long as you keep trying, Gary,” Lois replied.  “I’ll call Dr. Zimmerman in the morning.  Maybe he can recommend a good speech therapist.”  She gave him a gentle squeeze before straightening up.  “Oh!  And we need to call Diane, too.  She needs to set up a schedule for you.  Your father and I can help with the paper until you’re back on your feet.  Literally.”

Easing his chair back into the room, Gary pivoted to face his mother.  “Sssss’oo-kkay,” he said.  “Nndon’ hhave . . . ttto.  Yyyoou nnneed . . . gggett hhhomme.”

Lois paused in the midst of hanging up Gary’s jacket.  “Oh.  I guess I forgot to tell you,” she murmured.  “We’re not going back to Hickory.”  She turned to meet her son’s puzzled gaze.  “Well, after the way they practically ran you out of town on a rail, I couldn’t possibly live there anymore!  So, we’ve put the house on the market, and we’re looking for a place closer to the city.  In the suburbs, maybe.”

Gary was stunned.  He knew his parents had been upset by the way his hometown had, more or less, turned their collective backs on him, but to the extent of selling the house?  Of leaving behind the town where he had been born?  They were actually going to sell the house he had grown up in?  How could they?  Then he tried to look at it from their point of view.  Would he want to stay someplace where his child was unwelcome?  How would he feel if his son or daughter had been treated with the same kind of intolerance and suspicion that he had endured?  He recalled how hurt and embarrassed he had been by all the whispered innuendo, and baseless accusations.  Could it have been any less painful for his parents?

Wordlessly, he rolled his chair up to his mother and wrapped his arms around her waist.  Lois knelt down until she could return his embrace, pressing his face against her shoulder.

“Ssssor-ry, Mmmomma,” he murmured.  “Aahm sssoo . . . sssor-ry.”

“Whatever for, sweetie?” Lois crooned.  “It wasn’t your fault.  I guess it wasn’t anyone’s fault, really.  They just don’t understand you anymore, if they ever did.  That’s no excuse for the way they treated you though.  Especially at Christmas.  No one should be made to feel like an outcast at Christmas.”

“Lllove yyyou, Mmmomma,” Gary sighed.

“I love you too, dear.  Now, let’s go back downstairs for a bit.  It’s almost time for the morning news.  I want to see if we’re on it.”

Recalling the look of shock and pity on the reporters’ faces, Gary shook his head as he released his hold.  “Yyyoou gggo,” he told her.  “Nndon’ wwwant ttto sssee.”

Sitting back on her heels, Lois looked up into her son’s despondent features.  “What’s wrong, hon?  Don’t you want to see your ‘triumphant’ return to Chicago?”

“Nnnot ssso tttrri-umm-pphhant,” Gary stammered, looking away.  “Dddon’ wwwann’ . . . ssseee fffac-ess wwhhenn . . . hheear . . . sssp-eakk..”

“Oh dear,” Lois sighed, understanding at last.  “You’re embarrassed.  You think they’ll look down on you for stuttering.”

“Wwwoorse,” Gary replied with a shake of his head.  “Ttthhhey . . . fffeeell . . . sssor-ry fffoorr mmee.  Dddonn’ wwann’ sssor-ry.  Wwwan’ mmbbe llefft . . . ‘lllone.”

“What are you going to do?” Lois asked, starting to get worried.  “Are you going to hide up here in your room until the problem goes away?”

“Iiifff hhavve tttoo,” Gary replied stubbornly. 

‘Oh, dear!’ Lois thought.  ‘This is not good!’  Her only son was in real danger of becoming a hermit.  “That’s not going to work, Gary, and you know it,” she told him firmly.  “You have to face this.  No problem ever gets solved by hiding from it.  Now, get ready.  You’re going back downstairs to talk to your staff and your friends.”

Stubbornly, Gary shook his head.  No way could he face everyone after they heard his poor excuse for speech! 

“That’s not a request, mister,” Lois told him. She stood in front of him with her arms crossed, her stance radiating a stubbornness equal to his own.  “You are coming down to the bar with me.  You will let your staff, and your friends, know what is going on.  They can’t help you otherwise.  You will do all this right now.  Understand?”

The look Gary gave her almost broke her heart.  He looked like a trapped animal, scared and alone.  It was almost enough to weaken her resolve.  Almost.  She returned his gaze with a level one of her own.

“I’m serious, Gary,” she told him in a ‘no nonsense’ tone.  “I didn’t raise you to be a quitter or a coward.  Just because what you have to do looks impossible is no excuse not to try.  You deal with the impossible everyday.  Don’t back down now.  Not when you’re so close.”

With a sigh, Gary nodded.  He had never won an argument with his mom, especially when she was right.  It didn’t look as if he were going to start now.  She was determined that he would not hide from this, no matter how much the idea appealed to him.

*************

Everyone sat in stunned silence, having just seen one of the newscasts covering the scene at the airport.  Bernie and Crumb exchanged glances.  They then stood to face the speechless group.

“Okay,” Bernie sighed.  “Let’s get this out before he comes back down.  C’mon, I know you all have some kinda smart remark you can’t wait to try out.  Do it now, and get it over with.”

“Why can’t he talk straight?” Robin asked, a worried frown on her pretty features.

“A left over side-effect of the snake venom,” Bernie told them, having learned everything from Lois and Chuck on the way home.  “It’s gonna take a little time, and therapy, but he can get past this with our help.  Who’s next?”

“He’s walking again,” Jimmy, one of the bartenders, commented with a big smile on his face.  “That’s the main thing.  I mean, he‘s always stuttered when he‘s nervous.  This is just, well, like he‘s really nervous.”

“Exactly!” Crumb spoke up.  “Remember that.  This speech thing, it’s temporary.  He’ll be barking orders and making our lives miserable in no time.  Just don’t even act like you feel sorry for the guy.  He hates that.  He wants your help, not your pity.  Just the same as when it was his legs that didn’t work.  So let me spell this out for youse guys.  Act like it’s no big deal, just another day in the life of Gary Hobson.  He feels bad enough about this little set back.  Don’t make him feel any worse, or you’ll answer to me.”

“And me,” Bernie added, determined not to be left out.  Anything else he might have said was put on hold by the distinctive sound of the chairlift in operation.  “He’s on his way down,” Bernie hissed.  “Just act natural.  And remember, don’t even look like you feel sorry for him.  He’ll pick up on that right away.”

“Remember this, too,” Chuck spoke up from his seat at the bar.  “Gary’s lucky to be alive and talking at all.  He came within an ace of being a vegetable.  Just the fact that he’s breathing is more of a miracle than we had any right to hope for.”

By the time Gary and Lois returned to the barroom, the channel on the TV over the main bar had been changed to a later newscast.  Everyone was watching the scene as if for the first time.  Gary knew better, and was genuinely touched by their blatant attempt at deception.  He sat back and watched the faces of his friends and employees.  No, scratch that.  They were all his friends.  As he observed them going through the motions of their little pretense, he knew that, however rough this next challenge would be, he was not going through it alone.  Gary looked up to meet his mom’s glimmering eyes, and knew that she understood what was going through his mind.  He was going to be okay.

As the newscast ended, shortly after his stammering statement, everyone started talking about how wonderful it was to see ‘the boss’ on his feet again.  No one said anything about his stutter, or his obvious embarrassment at the reporters’ reaction.  They were all pretending not to have noticed, chattering to each other about the news report, without one word about this new setback.

Gary rolled his wheelchair towards the center of the room and made a loud throat-clearing sound.  All eyes turned on him, everyone feigning various looks of surprise and embarrassment.  Robin even managed a convincing blush.

“Nnnice . . . tttrry,  ggguys,” he told them, a shy smile breaking through on his tired features.  “Ttthhankks.  Nnndon’ hhaff tttoo pprre-ttend.  Jjjuss’ dddon’ lllafff tttoo . . . llloud.”

“No one’s laughing, Gary,” Marissa told him, stepping forward in the sudden silence.  “We all know how serious this is for you.  Just don’t let your pride make you forget that you have friends that want to help you, even if we drive you crazy sometimes.”

“Nnnott ddrrivve,” Gary stammered, smiling a little as he attempted an old joke.  “Ssshhorrt pputtt.”

“Oh, kiddo,” Bernie groaned.  “That was lame, even for you!”

“Well, what do expect?” Lois snorted daintily.  “Bob Hope?  He’s only been out of the hospital a little over a day!  Let the man get his breath!”  She reached out and playfully ruffled Gary’s hair as she said this, earning an exasperated grin from her son. 

“Sure thing, Mrs. H,” Jimmy spoke up as he nervously wiped spots off a glass that he had already cleaned twice.  “You just give the orders, Boss,” he added, “and let us make the speeches.  You know how we all love to hear ourselves talk.”

“Especially you,” Crumb quipped.  He then turned to Gary.  “I’ve gotta run.  Some guy thinks his partner is pulling something shady.  You take care, kid.  Oh!  I almost forgot.  We need to talk as soon as you’re walkin’ a little better.  I got this . . . project . . . I need your help with.”

Crumb sounded so . . . hesitant, that Gary was instantly put on his guard. “Wwwhhatt aarrre yyyou uuupp . . . ttoo, Cccrrummb?”

“Nothin’ ya haven’t done before, so stop worryin’,” the ex-cop snorted.  “Take care of yerself, Hobson.”  With that, he gave Gary’s shoulder a rough shake and headed out of the bar.

Gary watched his friend go, wondering what the gruff detective had in mind.  Suddenly feeling very tired, he barely had time to cover his mouth before failing to suppress a deep yawn.  Lois flashed him a brief smile before making his excuses for him and turning his chair back towards the office. 

“You didn’t get much sleep on the plane, did you dear?” Lois commented as she navigated the chair through the office and to the back stairwell.

Gary just shook his head wearily.  He had tried, stretching out in the first-class lounge for most of the flight, but had been too tense with anticipation at being home again.  Also, that little scene at the airport had taken a lot out of him too.  Truthfully, he was happy to let his mother do the driving . . . just this once.  She soon had him upstairs and was helping him get ready for bed. 

“I-I ccan nnddo zzzis, Mmmomma,” he stammered in a half-hearted protest.  “Yyyou tttirred tttoo.  Gggett ssoomme rrressst.”

“I will, sweetie,” Lois told him with a smile as she tugged at one of his shoes.  “I got plenty of rest on the plane, though.  Can I get you anything?  Are you hungry?  Thirsty, maybe?”

“Aah’m fffinne, Mmmomma,” he smiled, stretching out with a tired sigh.  “Jjjuss’ nnneedd rrresst.  Wwwake mmee  ‘ow-er . . . tttwo?”

“Sure, hon,” she replied with a smile, all the while thinking that he needed a lot more than that.  “How about in time for lunch?  That’ll give you, oh, four hours,” she added, glancing at the clock.

“Ssoun’s ggood,” Gary mumbled drowsily.  A moment later, he was making soft snoring sounds, having drifted off to sleep almost instantly.  He hadn’t even gotten as far as getting his pants off.

Lois lifted his legs onto the bed and pulled the comforter up to his chin.  She stood there a moment, watching him.  It had always amazed her that she had given birth to this handsome young man, but lately she was amazed, and overjoyed, that he was still alive.  Lois picked up a magazine she had bought for the flight and settled onto the sofa, planning on keeping watch over her sleeping son in case he needed her.  She must have been more tired than she had thought because she soon found her own eyes growing heavy.  Moments later, mother and son were both sound asleep.

*******************

Lois wasn’t sure what had awakened her, at first.  She sat up abruptly, aware only of a vague feeling of uneasiness.  Something had pulled her out of a sound sleep, not to mention a beautiful dream of a yard full of grandchildren.  Wiping the sleep from her bleary eyes, she looked around for the source of the disturbance.  Mumbling and groaning noises from the bed had her on her feet in an instant.  Gary!  She quickly stepped over to see what was happening to her poor baby this time. 

The young bar owner was tossing his head from side to side fitfully, his hands making warding off gestures as his legs twitched feebly under the covers.  Animal-like moans and whimpering emanated from his throat, but nothing close to coherent speech.  Lois reached out hesitantly to wake him, only to jerk back as he gave out a loud, shuddering, sigh.  His eyes fluttered for a moment, as if he were about to wake up.  Instead he turned onto his right side and settled deeper into the mattress, hugging his left arm against his chest protectively.  For a few seconds, Gary seemed to be sleeping peacefully.  It was only a moment’s respite, however, as his youthful features were soon twisted into an expression of pain.  And fear?  What was he dreaming about?

***************

Running.  He was running down dark, deserted streets.  No.  Not deserted.   A nameless, faceless pursuer was hot on his heels!  Dark, anonymous figures loomed from out of nowhere to block his path only to fall back with fingers pointing accusingly.  ‘Murderer!’ they silently screamed as he ran past.  ‘Killer!  You let them die!  It’s your fault!’

“Nnno,” Gary stammered, pleading for understanding.  “I ttried!  I d-did!  I-I’m nnnot Gggod!  Cccan’t ssave e-ev’ry . . . b-bo-dy.”

Gary was once more chained to that damned chair!  His left arm throbbed painfully as Savalas gave a vicious yank on the handcuffs.  They were in the area next to the bed, but there was no bowling pin peeking out from under the bed this time.  There was nothing at all to defend himself with as the felon pulled a piece of rope from a drawer and pulled Gary’s right arm around until it, too, was bound to the chair frame.  Both arms were now stretched painfully around the back of the wheelchair, totally immobilized.  He looked up into Savalas’ evil smirk, meeting that amused gaze with a steady, defiant glare.

“Y-you‘re dddead, Ssa-vvall-uss,” Gary stammered through clenched teeth.  “I fffelt y-you ddie.”

“And you will again,” the specter of Savalas replied with a patronizing smile.  “Over and over again.  That’s the beauty of it!  You get to watch me die every time you close your eyes!  Isn’t that wonderful?  And I get to come up with new and better ways to torment you!  Like this.”

Suddenly Gary’s left arm was stretched painfully across a narrow table, held in place by those cursed handcuffs.  His arm was twisted into an awkward position, straight out from his shoulder and palm up.  Before he could form a protest, his tormentor brought his own hockey stick down on his wrist in a savage blow!  The pain was incredible!  Unable to get in enough breath to scream, Gary could only hang his head and ride out the wave of agony that shot up his arm!  The only sound that escaped his lips was a long, shuddering, sigh.

He was lying at the top of the bluff, the deadly rattler less than a foot away.  Gary didn’t care.  He rolled onto his right side, cradling his injured wrist against his chest.  The pain was so intense it blocked out almost every other sensation.  Gary knew the viper was there, knew it was preparing to strike.  It simply didn’t matter anymore.   He watched through heavy-lidded, half-open, eyes as the venomous reptile drew it’s head back. Saw that flat, arrow-shaped head launch itself straight for the exposed side of his neck . . .

****************

Gary sat up with a strangled cry as gentle fingers caressed the left side of his neck.  Startled, he looked around with a panicked look on his face.  Chest heaving as he tried to slow the rapid beating of his heart, Gary rolled onto his back.  His eyes darted about the room in confusion.  Where . . .?

“Are you okay, hon?” Lois asked her panting son as she lowered herself onto the side of the bed.  She softly caressed his left cheek with the back of her right hand.  His skin was pale and clammy.  It was almost as if he were in shock!  “Gary?  Sweetie, say something,” she pleaded. 

“M-momma?” he murmured, obviously disoriented.  “Wh-where . . .?  O-oh.  Ss-sor-ry.  Dddidn’ m-mmean . . . ssscare . . ..”

“Don’t apologize for something you haven’t done, Gary,” Lois admonished with a tiny smile.  “You were having a nightmare.  Want to talk about it?”  When Gary just rolled back onto his side and curled into himself, Lois scooted a little further onto the bed with a sigh.  “I wish I was the one to kill that . . .  You need to talk to someone about this, hon.  This is your home.  You should be able to feel safe here, not threatened.  Want me to call Dr. Carter?  Maybe he can recommend a good therapist.”

“Ssseeing . . . tttwo . . . nn-nnow,” Gary mumbled.  “Nnno tt-ttime ffoor a-an-ny-mmore.”

“Then a priest or a minister.  Somebody,” Lois sighed, frustrated.  “You can’t go on like this, Gary.  It’s not healthy.”

“Sssoo-kkay,” Gary murmured softly.  “I-it’ll . . . pppasss.”  He rubbed his right hand over face, as if trying to wipe away the memory.  He kept his left arm hugged protectively against his chest. 

“When, Gary?” Lois snorted daintily.  “When you’re eighty?  Or when your next head injury leaves you with amnesia?  Didn’t that group therapy help at all?  Or did everything happen too fast?  Doug and Hailey said you got quite a bit off your chest, but you still seemed edgy.”

Gary turned onto his back and gazed up at his mom with a pleading look.  “Lllett der-op, p-please?” he begged her.  “I-I’ll wworkk . . . ou-tt.”

“How?  By hiding from it?” she asked sarcastically.  “That’s worked wonderfully so far.”  Lois crowded a little closer against her son, putting an arm around his shoulders.  “Not to mention that keeping quiet is lousy speech therapy.  You could try telling me about your dreams.  It’ll let you get things out in the open, and help you practice speaking.  Or, if not me, your dad.”

“Th-think ‘mmbout’t,” Gary sighed, snuggling into his mother’s embrace.  “T-try a-ny-th-thing.”

“Then let me call and make an appointment with Dr. Zimmerman tomorrow,” she suggested.  “He needs to order the physical therapy, anyway.  And he might be able to help us in these other areas, too.  Alright?”

Gary just nodded silently, absently rubbing his left wrist as if he could still feel the pain of his old injury.  He would try.  That was all he could promise, but he would try.

*****************

Gary and Lois sat outside Dr. Zimmerman’s office early the next morning.  There had been no need to call him.  He had called them shortly after seeing the newscast when it was replayed that evening.  He had been ecstatic to see Gary walking and wanted to see him right away to do an evaluation before Diane continued his therapy.  They were not kept waiting very long.  The moment he entered his office waiting room the doctor strode briskly up to his patient, a big smile splitting his pleasant features.

“I can’t tell you how wonderful it was to see that newscast,” he said without preamble.  He took Gary’s hand and shook it vigorously.  “That just made my whole year!  I was on the phone with Dr. Sloan first thing this morning and he promised to send me all the data as soon as you sign a release.  This is . . . ‘incredible’ is too mild a word.  I’m not sure if ‘miraculous’ is sufficient to describe your situation.”

“T-try . . . fffrrus-ttrra-tting,” Gary sighed.  “Gggo-inga ffrromma wwon . . .”  With a frustrated sigh he turned pleading eyes on his mother.

“I think he’s trying to say that it’s so frustrating, swapping one disability for another,” Lois translated for him.  At Gary’s relieved nod, she continued.  “We were hoping you could fix us up with a good speech therapist.”

Dr. Zimmerman’s expression became serious as he took in the haggard, haunted look on his earnest young patient.  “Perhaps we should continue this in my office,” he replied.  “I have other patients due to arrive shortly.”  The doctor led the way behind closed doors, then sat on the edge of his desk facing his visitors.  “I can fix you up with a speech therapist,” he told them as Lois settled comfortably on the sofa, “but I’d also like you to talk with a psychologist.  Don’t take that the wrong way,” he pleaded when Gary stiffened in his wheelchair.  “With everything you’ve been through lately I think, and Dr. Sloan agrees, that you could possibly be suffering from what we call ‘Conversion Syndrome.’  That’s where the mind has been so traumatized by events, that it creates a disability to express the need for help.  In your case you were already suffering from one, very real, disability.  Then everything else happened and, from what I’ve been able to piece together, kept on happening.  It was too much.  Granted, the paralyzing effect of the snake venom played a big part, but that should have cleared up by the time you left the hospital.  Brain damage would’ve shown up on any number of the scans they did later.  Of course I don’t have those results yet, but this Dr. Sloan seems like a pretty sharp character.  If he had seen anything like that, he wouldn’t have kept it from you.”

Lois was watching her son carefully during the doctor’s explanation.  She had seen him stiffen up at the mere mention of a psychologist, just as he had with her.  Then, as the physician continued, Gary had listened with growing interest, cocking his head to one side as he always did when his attention was so focused.  He nodded slowly to show he understood what was being said.  Then he turned his head to meet her gaze.  She just smiled and nodded.

“Nnno derugss,” he insisted, turning back to meet Dr. Zimmerman’s hopeful stare.  “Tttalka oon-lly.”

“That’s all you’ll do,” Dr. Zimmerman promised.  “At the most he may try hypnosis, but only if all else fails.  Drugs will be a last resort and only with your consent.  So you’ll let me set you up?”

Gary shook his head reluctantly.  “Hhavv . . . th-ink . . . mmbout zziss,” he replied haltingly.  “Nneedd . . . time.”

“Well,” the doctor nodded, sitting back with a sigh, “let me know when you’re ready.  There’s a gentleman who just moved into Chicago a few months ago and already has an excellent reputation.  I’ll give him a call whenever you’re ready.  In the meantime, Diane is waiting for us downstairs.  She can’t wait to put you through your paces!”

*************

Diane did more than put him through his paces.  She started off by taking his vital signs.  Then she pushed, pulled, stretched and prodded every muscle he had!  Then she had him get on the parallel bars and watched him take a mere three steps before having him turn around and head back to his wheelchair.  The therapist took his vitals, again, before putting him through another round of stretching, etc.  By the time she was finished with him, Gary felt as if he had run a marathon!  On his hands! 

Sweating and aching in places he had forgotten he had, Gary nonetheless listened attentively as Diane described what the next few months held in store for him.  He began to think he would be better off in the chair!

“I intend to have you out of that chair before the end of this month,” she told him in no uncertain terms.  “Before the middle of April you’ll toss the walker and move up to canes.  It won’t be much longer after that when you can toss those.  I’m not saying it’ll be easy, and it’s going to hurt.  But you could be running again by the end of August.”

Gary tried to keep his expression neutral, but Diane could see the hope shining out of his eyes.  This man would do whatever it took to get back on his feet, no matter what!  Aware of his speech problem, she knelt down by his wheelchair and took his hand in hers.  She wasn’t at all surprised to feel a slight, nervous, tremor.

“We’ll get you through this, Gary,” she told him earnestly.  “You have my word on that.  I’m getting married this June, and I want you to give me away.”  At his stunned look Diane went on to explain.  “I want you to walk down that aisle with me in place of my father, who passed away two years ago.  And I want you to speak up for me.  This is the most important day of my life, Gary,” she added. pleadingly.  “I want to share it with someone special.  Will you do this for me?”

Wordlessly Gary nodded slowly, amazed to have been included in such an integral part of her life.  She barely . . .!  Well, actually, they had come to know each other fairly well.  Still . . .

“Mmmbee . . . ‘onn-or’d,” he stammered.

Diane’s response was to give him a huge grin and a hug that almost took his breath.  “That’s wonderful!” she exulted.  “Now, we have even more reason to get you back on your feet.  We can do this, Gary!  I know we can!”

********************

A few days later, Gary was putting his own parallel bars to work.  He tried to get in just a few extra minutes each day, encouraged whenever he was able to get in an extra step.  The young barkeep was just turning for the return trip when he heard a gentle rapping on his door.

“Gary?” his mom called out.  “You decent, hon?”

There was a first!  She usually just let herself in lately.  He looked toward the door, not really surprised to see two silhouettes through the rippled glass.  “C-c’mon i-inn,” he told her.  The door swung open to admit his mom and . . . Crystal?  What was she doing in Chicago?  Then he recalled the suggestion he had made to her about amateur theater.  “Hhhellllo, C-crystal,” he stammered. 

The young woman stepped forward boldly as she spoke.  “Hi, Gary,” she said with a hesitant smile.  “I decided to take your advice.  About the amateur work?  I did some research on the web and found that Chicago and New York have more little theater groups than any other large city, so here I am.  In the meantime, I need to eat and you have this ad in the paper for a waitress.  Your mother said it pays decent and there’s a vacant apartment just across the street.  I hope you don’t mind.  It just all seemed so perfect, you being the only people I know in the whole city and all.”

Gary held his hand up as he settled back into his wheelchair, hoping to slow down the young woman’s rush of words.  How could anyone talk that fast?  “Yyou aarr h-hi-erd,” he assured her.  “Ssstart . . . wwhhen?”

“Tomorrow?” Crystal suggested hopefully.  At Gary’s nod she relaxed, her smile becoming less strained and more radiant.  “Great!  Morning or evening shift?”

“Late morning to start with,” Lois spoke up hurriedly.  “Then four to midnight.  That’s the best one for big tippers.  If you find a part, we’ll try to work around rehearsals and such.  Right, hon?”  At Gary’s quiet nod, she continued.  “So, how long are you going to be in town?”

“If I find a part,” Crystal replied uncertainly, “then for as long as it lasts.  If not, then I should try New York for a while.  I figured to give it three months?  I mean I want to give it a good shot, but I can’t afford to just sit still.  You know what I mean?  Or I might find an agent who’ll really work to get me some decent parts.  I guess it all sort of . . . depends.”

“Zzzat’s fffine,” Gary told the young actress, smiling hesitantly.  “Mmmomma wwill sshhow yyou ‘rround.  Wwwel-c-come t-to Shhi-ca-go.”

“Thanks,” Crystal sighed, favoring him with another smile.  “First thing in the morning, then.  This is going to be so great!” she added as she turned for the door.  “Just wait ‘til I tell Jade!”

Lois shot Gary an amused look as she followed the younger woman through the door.  She mouthed a silent ‘Be right back’ as she disappeared through the portal.  Gary just smiled and shook his head.  Crystal could either be a breath of fresh air or a minor tempest.  Only time would tell. 

When Lois returned, with Marissa in tow, she found her son once again sitting in his wheel chair between the parallel bars and the sofa.  He was doing the simple strengthening exercises Diane had taught him that week.  He was so determined to speed up his recovery that he spent almost every waking moment at them.  Which was just as well.  It left him with less time to worry about the paper . . . and who was handling it.  If Bernie didn’t stop taking foolish chances, Gary was going to end up with more gray hair than his dad! 

“I think Crystal is going to work out just fine,” Lois commented to the young blind woman, acting as if Gary were not in the room.  “Don’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Marissa replied with a mischievous smile.  “She seems very friendly.  And she was especially taken with Gary.  Went on and on about how nice he was to her back in Los Angeles.”

“I think she likes him,” Lois remarked in a loud, conspiratorial whisper as she took a seat on the sofa.  Marissa settled down in the easy chair.  “Such a nice girl.”  She turned to find Gary giving her a lopsided grin as he wordlessly continued his exercises.  “What did you think of her, Gary?”

“Sshhee’s nnnice,” Gary admitted, his face reddening just a bit. “P-pret-ty . . . t-to.”

“Is she?” Marissa asked innocently.  “I didn’t notice.”

“H-ha-ha,” Gary deadpanned.  “O-old jj-joke, Mmma-rri-ssa.  Ve-ry . . . old.”

“I know,” the young black woman smiled.  “She did seem nice, though.  And very fond of you.  Maybe you should ask her out sometime.  Not right away,” she added hastily.  “After you get to know each other a little better.  About a week or so?”  This last was said more in Lois’ direction.

“At least,” Lois nodded.  “They shouldn’t rush into things.  A lot of broken hearts come from not taking the time to be sure of where you stand with someone.  Oh, there’s that jazz exhibition at the Cultural Center next week.  That would be a good first date.  Or a nice play.  There’s a mystery opening next Thursday.”

“There’s always the aquarium,” Marissa shrugged.  “Or the art museum.  What about . . .?”  She was interrupted by Gary, who shoved a hastily scribbled note into her hand.  Puzzled, she handed the piece of paper to Lois.

Gary’s mother took the note, smiling as she began to read it out loud.  “‘Should we have a June wedding or do you like Fall better?’  Alright,” she chuckled.  “Enough teasing.  She is a sweet girl, though, and she likes you.  As you’ve often told me, anything’s possible.”

Grinning, Gary slowly stretched his left leg out until he could give Marissa’s cane a gentle nudge with his foot.  “G-got zzat rrright.”

*****************

Chuck came by the next day to bid his friend farewell.  He had been spending most of his time trying to help Bernie with the paper since his return to Chicago.  That situation, alone, was enough to give Lois and Gary matching nightmares!  Somehow the two men had managed to survive over a week of near misses and bad timing.  Now it was time for Chuck Fishman to return home to his family.  As he ascended the stairs to Gary’s loft, his mind drifted back over the last several months.  It still frightened him, a little, knowing how close his best friend had come to becoming nothing more than a fond memory.  Seeing him in the hospital right after he was brought in for that snake bite . . . It had been ten times worse than when Gary had been struck by that car.  Then he had been unconscious only a few hours.  To see him lying there, knowing he was awake and totally helpless had almost been too much for the young producer. 

He opened the door without knocking; something that he knew annoyed Gary to no end, which was one of the reasons he did it.  As Chuck eased inside, hoping to surprise his friend, his breath caught in his throat at the sight that greeted him. 

Gary was on the parallel bars once more.  He was almost to the end, shuffling one foot slowly in front of the other.  Sweat beaded his brow from the effort he was putting into a simple task that most people took for granted.  When he reached the end, Gary turned by placing both hands on the same rail and pivoting on the balls of his feet.  It was only then that he noticed his audience of one.

“Hhi, Ch-Chuck,” he panted.  Gary shot his friend a strained smile as he began the shambling trek back to his wheelchair.  To his relief Chuck waited patiently by the sofa, making no move to assist him.  His friend understood that Gary needed to do this on his own. 

“I didn’t think you were supposed to be doin’ that alone,” Chuck commented as he sprawled on the sofa.  “Don’t you need a ‘spotter’ or something?  In case of trouble, I mean.”

“I . . . ssup-p-pose,” Gary stammered as he reached his goal.  Sinking into his chair with a sigh of relief, he paused a moment to wipe the sweat from his face and neck with a towel he’d left slung across the back.  He took the time to study his friend.  Chuck was dressed in a suit and tie, something he had avoided while helping Bernie with their ‘errands.’  “C-come to sssay ‘guh-ood-mmbye?’”

“Yeah,” Chuck shrugged.  “Jade and the kids need me more than you do.  Besides, I miss ‘em.  Got a seat on the five o’clock out of O’Hare tonight.  So . . . when do you graduate to the walker?”

“Nnnexsst www-eek, mmay-be” Gary replied with a sigh.  He made it sound as if ‘next week’ equated to ‘forever.’  “G-onna mmiss yyyou.”

“It’s not like we’ll never see each other again,” Chuck shrugged, trying to keep a light tone.  The tightness in his voice betrayed him, however.  “I mean . . . you know where I live.  I know where you live.  We can get together for holidays and birthdays . . . and such.”

“Sssurre,” Gary replied, trying for a matching air of nonchalance.  “G-ot to . . .”  Frustrated, he grabbed a pad and pen off the table, scribbling furiously.  When he was finished, he tore the page off, handing it to Chuck.  ‘Got to keep in touch with my Godchildren,’ he’d written.  ‘You’ll bring them out to visit sometime?  Let me know when they start to walk and such?’

“Of course,” Chuck promised.  “And you’ll have to keep me up on what’s going on here, too.  I want to know when you meet someone special.”

Gary handed him another note.  ‘Pictures!  Take lots of pictures!’

“Gary!” Chuck protested.  “I’m in the ‘Industry’ now!  I’ll make movies.  Send you a video every month, I promise.  And stills for the album.  No sweat.”  He paused a moment, hesitant to bring up the next subject.  “What will you do if, you know, you don’t get . . . all your mobility back?  What I mean is . . . what if you need crutches or canes the rest . . . Gary, please!  Don’t look at me like that!  I’m just tryin’ to play ‘Devil’s Advocate’ here.  Will you be able to handle everything?  The paper and all?”

Stung, Gary handed him the next message and pivoted his chair so that he was facing away from his well-meaning friend.

‘I did alright before,’ he’d written.  ‘I will walk on my own.  Believe in me.  Please.’

“Gary,” Chuck sighed, rising to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “if there’s anything in this crazy world I do believe in, it’s you.  Take care, pal.”  He gave Gary’s shoulder a rough shake and turned to go.

“Mmbbe sssaffe, Ch-Chuck,” Gary murmured as the door closed behind one of the best, and truest, friends he had in the world.

****************

Crystal came up a few days later to bring Gary some papers Marissa said had to be signed ‘right away.’  She found him once again on the bars, shuffling his feet in time to a stammered rhyme. 

“P-p-pe-ter P-p-p-pi-per p-p-picked p-p-peck p-p-p-p-pic-culed p-p-p-p-pep-p-p-pers,” Gary muttered.  As he reached the chair he executed a graceful turn and recited the rest of the tongue twister as he made his arduous trek to the other end.  He was concentrating so hard on his twin tasks; he failed to notice her until he finally eased into his wheelchair with a sigh of weariness.  “Wh-what . . . c-can . . . I d-do . . . ffffor yyyyou, Crrrys-ttall?” he asked.

“Oh!  Um, Marissa said these needed you signature,” she said waving the sheaf of papers at him.  Crystal lay the forms on his coffee table, handing him a pen from her apron pocket. “Not making any progress with the speech therapy?” the young actress wannabe asked sympathetically.  When Gary shook his head ruefully she sank down on the sofa, her slender features composed in a thoughtful frown.  “You know, one of my acting coaches had this technique for helping some of us lose regional accents.  He taught us sign language.  His theory was that, if we were too busy concentrating on how the words were shaped, we’d be too preoccupied to worry about how they sounded.  As we shaped the words with our hands our minds just sort of, well, followed along.”

Gary looked at her with growing interest as he listened to her explanation.  He then signed the stack of forms wordlessly, using the time to formulate a response.  Finally, he turned to face his new waitress, handing her the papers.  “D-d-did itt wwwork?”

“Can you tell I’m from the Bronx?” she asked with an impish smile.

Surprised, Gary shook his head.  If anything, he would have thought she was from the west coast.  Perhaps Los Angeles. 

“Then I guess it worked,” Crystal remarked with a laugh.  “Another technique is to learn to sing.  That’s something I still need to work on, but I met this nice young man who’s offered to teach me.  Perhaps I could persuade him to include you?” she added hopefully.

Hesitantly, Gary nodded.  He had done a little singing in the church choir back home in Hickory, but not since he was a kid.  It had never been one of his favorite activities and he had only done it to please his mom.  Once his voice began to change he had used it as an excuse to quit.  Now he was being asked to take it up again!  If it helped rid him of this damnable stutter, though, he’d sing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ at the next Cubs game!

“Great!” Crystal gushed, clasping her hands together in her enthusiasm.  “I’ll give him a call tonight.  He’s a really nice young man with a wonderful gift.  I think you two will hit it off great.”  She flounced off the sofa and was halfway to the door before she remembered the papers.  Flashing him an embarrassed grin, she snatched them off his table and practically ran down the stairs. 

Shaking his head with an amused grin of his own, Gary turned his wheelchair and headed for the bathroom.  He’d worked up quite a sweat trying to walk and talk at the same time.  Right now, even images of Savalas couldn’t keep him from a hot bath.

******************

Danny Bellagio was a very handsome young man about Crystal’s age.  He was tall, athletic, with classic good looks and pale blonde hair.  When Crystal first introduced him, the younger man shook Gary’s hand with a guarded expression. 

“Crystal said you had a speech problem,” he said, looking pointedly at the wheelchair.  “She didn’t say you were crippled, too.”

“Nnot mm-mmuch lllong-er,” Gary told him, bristling slightly at the word ‘crippled.’ “G-gget-ting mmbet-ter.  Mmbe ww-alk-ing sssoon.”

“Wow!  That is some stutter!”  Bellagio observed with surprise.  “I don’t know if singing lessons will help that!”

“We won’t know until we try,” Crystal spoke up.  “Please, Danny!  You promised!  Gary’s in a real fix, here!  The speech therapy isn’t working and he needs your help!”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t try, darling,” Danny hurriedly assured her.  “I just don’t know if it will help all that much.”  He turned back to his new ‘pupil.’  “Let’s hear you do the scales.”

Gary shot Crystal a doubtful look, then slowly began to recite.  “D-do, rre, f-fa . . .”

“Nonono,” Danny quickly cut him off.  “Don’t say them.  Sing them.  Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do!  Like that.  Try it.”

Feeling like a fool, Gary nonetheless did as he was told.  To his surprise he got through it with hardly a stammer. “D-do-re-mi-fa-sso-la-ti-d-do.” 

“Excellent!” Danny exclaimed.  “This just might work after all!  And your voice has a marvelous timber.  We need to start with your breath control, first of all.  You need to bring your voice up from the diaphragm, not just the throat.”  He proceeded to demonstrate what he meant, letting loose with a note that rang out with remarkable clarity, holding it for several seconds.  “Now you try it.”

Gary surprised himself by reproducing the note to a recognizable degree.  He wasn’t able to hold it as long as Danny had, but he came pretty close.

*****************

And so began Gary’s singing lessons.  Danny came by every other afternoon, driving Gary like a drill sergeant.  In between, Crystal taught him sign language.  By making him say each letter and word as he shaped them, she forced him to enunciate his words more carefully.  It was slow, tedious work with a lot of repetition.  Still Gary stuck it out, making Crystal laugh with some of his more spectacular errors. 

Days passed into weeks as Gary was pushed to his limits both physically and mentally.  On the few occasions that he left his apartment, it was usually on ‘errands’ for the paper.  It seemed there were still times that his ‘personal touch’ was required to make something come out right.  He was also required to deal with the routine business that went with owning a bar. 

Lois and Bernie were having little luck finding a house closer to the city, and even less in selling their old home in Hickory.  Several times a day, they got calls from friends and neighbors begging them to reconsider.  Lois was polite but firm.  She reminded some of them about their cruel treatment of her son at a time when he was in serious need of their support and understanding.  She then asked how they would feel if it had been their child.  Those were the ones who did not call a second time.

It was the first week of March when Diane finally upgraded her patient to a walker.   This forced Gary to depend more on his legs to support his weight, rather than his arms.  It also made riding the chairlift up and down a little scarier.  The first few times he tried it left Gary pale and shaking.  He managed to overcome this problem simply by keeping his eyes closed, a practice his mother tried to discourage. 

“What if that contraption breaks down while you’re on it?” Bernie asked, trying to reason with his son.  “Are we supposed to pick your broken body up and put it back together again?”

“W-what sshould I do, D-dad?” he asked.  “Sstay in my a-part-ment?  Can’t nna-vigate those  sstairs wwith this . . . thing”  Gary shook the walker slightly for emphasis.  “You can’t hhave it both wways,” he added, saying each word carefully.  “You can’t . . . pro-tect me and ex-pect me to mmake any pro-gress.”

Bernie and Lois wisely backed off and let Gary proceed at his own pace.  Nevertheless, they kept a careful eye on him.  Surreptitiously, of course.  Thus they were the first to see him advance to the next stage on his own.  Hearing a strange, clattering noise in the back stairwell just a few days later, Lois and Bernie cautiously peered around the door.  Lois put a hand to her mouth to keep from making a sound, her breath catching in her throat at the scene before them.  Bernie just grinned like the proud father he was.

There was Gary, slowly working his way up the stairs, holding onto the railing with one hand and the walker with the other.  Using only the front legs of the device on the steps, he worked his way upwards.  When he reached the first landing, he turned and carefully began his decent.  This time he used the back legs of the walker to maintain his balance.  The decent appeared much more precarious than the ascent, and Gary arms were trembling from the exertion . . . and the strain.  With a sigh of weariness, he hit the button that activated the lift then lowered himself until he was sitting cross-legged on the platform.  In this manner he rode the lift until he was out of sight.

Bernie and Lois never questioned him again on the matter of the stairs.

******************

Diane presented him with a pair of aluminum canes on the third week of March, a full three weeks ahead of her projected schedule.  Gary’s determination had proven to be his biggest asset.  It had been painful, as she had promised.  To Gary it had also seemed incredibly slow.  Nonetheless he was progressing at a much faster pace than was normal. 

His speech therapy was also proving effective.  Under the ‘triple whammy’ of the regular therapist, the voice training, and Crystal’s sign language lessons, Gary’s stutter had improved measurably by the time Diane took away his walker.  He was assured that, in time, he would hardly notice the slight hesitation he still had when trying to pronounce certain sounds.

A few days after Diane’s pronouncement, Crumb came by for a ‘friendly visit.’  He found Gary working out with ankle weights.  The ex-cop turned detective settled onto the sofa, watching as the younger man continued to do leg lifts while flat on his back. 

“What can I d-do for you, Crumb?” Gary huffed. 

“Nice to see you too, Hobson,” Crumb remarked.  “Got a little project I’m tryin’ to put together.  A little . . . mystery play.  Ya interested?”

Gary stopped his exercises and rolled on his side to face Crumb.  “You serious?  I th-thought you hhad enough of that af-ter the llast time,” he commented. 

“Yeah, well, I got talked into this by Darlene,” he grumbled sheepishly.  “She was lookin’ around my place one day and . . .  Get that smirk off yer pan, Hobson!  Nothin’ like that was goin’ on!  She was just there for coffee.  Anyway, she saw what was left of my memoirs, and asked if I’d ever thought of writing a stage play.  Well, one thing kinda led to another . . . You know how . . . I swear, Hobson, if you don’t wipe that grin off yer face . . .!”

“Ssorry,” Gary chuckled, enjoying the big man’s discomfort.  “Sso you wrote a p-play?  Wwhat kind did you say?  Mys-tery?”

“What else?” Crumb snorted.  “Crime and police work is all I know.  So I let her talk me into writing this play together.  We’ve been working’ on it since before . . . you know.”

“My ac-ci-d-dent,” Gary replied with a slow nod.  “Hhow’s it coming?”

“We finished it just before you got back to town,” the ex-cop admitted.  “The last coupla months we been tryin’ to book a theater and put a cast together.  We got our hero, a crusty hard-bitten retired cop.”

“Ssoundss familiar.”

“Yeah yeah, I know,” Crumb snorted.  “Whadya expect?  We got our list of suspects and a few supporting characters.  What we don’t got is someone to play the victim.  For some reason you come to mind whenever that word comes up.”

“Ha ha, Crumb,” Gary responded, levering himself up to a seated position.  “Sso you wwant me to get k-killed on sstage rather than real llife.”

“Nope,” was Crumbs surprising response.  “The play is about who’s trying to kill you.  But you do get wounded in the first and sixth act.  That’s when we uncover the perp and she gets one last crack at you.”

“Nnice,” Gary murmured.  He gave his friend a speculative look.  “Iss it a big p-part?”

“You only have a few lines in each act,” Crumb assured him.  “You’re a young tycoon, nice enough guy, but you didn’t get where you are without stepping on a few toes.  Late one night, while you’re sitting at your desk at home, someone pops you.  They think they’ve killed you, but it’s only a flesh wound.  Most of your scenes are in a hospital bed until the last act, when we spring you on the suspects and the killer reacts by trying again.”

“Been in enough hhospital beds, thank you,” Gary grumbled as he used his canes to pull himself to his feet. 

“We figured that,” the big detective replied hurriedly.  “So we did a few rewrites.  You only spend two acts in the hospital, the rest we keep you out of sight in a seedy hotel.  It means an extra set, but Darlene wants to get everybody back together.  Kinda like a reunion.”

The young tavern owner eyed his friend speculatively as he made his way to the easy chair.  Sinking down with a sigh, he continued to think over the ex-cop’s proposal. 

“I d-don’t know,” he murmured.  “I’m nnot ‘zactly at my b-best right now.”

“That’s okay!” Crumb was quick to assure him. “You don’t have to be for this role!  We thought about writin’ it for you to be in that wheelchair, but you won’t even need it by the time openin’ night gets here.  Your first scene is behind a desk.  You don’t even stand up until just before you’re shot!”

“I st-still st-stutter some,” Gary pointed out reasonably.

“So?” the ex-cop shrugged.  “You’ve had a stutter since I’ve known you.  Didn’t stop you last time.  C’mon, Hobson!  Don’t make me beg!  This’ll mean a lot to the others.  Besides, it’s not like you got anything else to do.”

“H-how do yyou know?” Gary grumbled.  “I’ve st-still got a llife, you know.”

“I can see that,” Crumb commented dryly.  “You’ve hardly been outta this dump in a month.  So?  Will ya do it?”

Miffed at the acid, and all too accurate, assessment of his social life, Gary pretended to give deep consideration to the request.  Then he noticed Crumb squirming out of the corner of his eye and decided to let his friend off the hook.  ‘This must mean a lot to him,’ he thought.

“It might be ffun,” he reluctantly conceded.  “I g-guess you can c-count me in.”

“That’s great!  I’ll let the others know we got you on board.”  Crumb rose to go, stopping at the door as if he had just remembered something.  “You don’t happen to know anyone else who’d like a part, would you?  We got one left, your kid sister.  She needs to be in her twenty’s, kinda pretty.  You know the type.”

Gary immediately thought of Crystal and said so.  Crumb promised to check her out.  As the burly ex-cop disappeared through the door, Gary sat back with a sigh.  Something told him he had just bitten off more than he could chew.  How would he balance rehearsals, the paper, and rehab?  That was an awful lot to put on one plate.

*******************

“A play, Gary?” Lois murmured hesitantly.  “Are you up to something like that?  I mean, you’re making tremendous progress,” she hastened to add as he gave her a hurt, disappointed look, “but look at everything you’re trying to deal with!  You’ve become more involved in the bar, doing at least half of the rescues for the paper, two hours of rehab each day, plus the voice lessons and the sign language when you can fit that in.  How are you going to fit rehearsals into a schedule like that?”

“I’ll m-manage,” Gary assured her.  It was a little over a week since Crumb’s visit and a beautiful spring day.  The two of them were taking their time, strolling through Grant Park on their way to stop little Davy Williams from choking on a pretzel.  Gary gave himself as much time as he could to reach his destination.  Although he was now using only one cane, he still was not able to manage more than a shuffling trot, at best.  He hoped the new treadmill he was having delivered that day would help with the problem.  It meant having to dismantle the parallel bars, but they had served their purpose and could be ‘retired’ with honor.  “It mmight even hhelp with the sspeech therapy,” he added.  “Hhaving to rre-peat the ssame lines over and over, I c-could be sspeaking normally by o-pen-ing nnight.”

Lois put an arm around her son’s waist as they neared their goal.  She knew how hard he was pushing himself and how badly he wanted things to return to the way they were before the accident.  It was one of the things that worried her, this single-minded determination.  She also knew he was still having nightmares.  The lack of sleep showed in the dark circles under his eyes.  Lois often wondered if Gary was driving himself so hard as a means of coping with the horrors he had faced during the past year.

Gary arrived on the scene just as the ten-year-old boy scarfed down a huge chunk of soft pretzel.  A surprised, frightened look materialized on Davy’s young face as the morsel lodged in his throat.  He looked around in panic, struggling to pull air in past the obstruction.  All that he succeeded in doing was to wedge it in even tighter!  Gary quickly wrapped both arms around the child and gave a quick, forceful, upward thrust under his ribcage.  The bit of pretzel went flying as air was driven upwards, expelling it like a doughy projectile.

The boy drew in a huge, wheezing gulp of air.  Holding onto his rescuer for support, Davy tried to get his breathing back under control.

“You ok-kay, kid?” Gary asked as he guided the boy to a bench.  “Sit here a m-moment.  L-look at me.  C’mon, open your eyes.  That’s good.  Still dizzy?”  The boy nodded wordlessly.  “Thought so.  Where’s your ffolks?  Are they close?” 

The child pointed a shaky hand toward a couple headed in their general direction.  At the same moment, the woman could be heard giving vent to an alarmed cry as she caught sight of the strange man hovering over her son.  Breaking into a run, the couple quickly covered the short distance, demanding to know what had happened! 

“Who are you?” the mother demanded.  “What’s wrong with Davy?  What did you do to him?”

“Ch-choking,” the boy stammered.  “C-couldn’t breathe.”  Davy pointed to Gary.  “He . . . he saved me, Mom.”

Gary was already backing away to rejoin his own mother who was bristling to come to his defense.  Ever since practically the entire town of Hickory, Indiana, had seemed to turn against him, she was more than a little sensitive to any accusations leveled against her son.

“L-let it go, M-mom,” Gary told her as he took her elbow and turned her back the way they had come.  “P-par for the c-course.”  They hadn’t gone far when Gary felt the touch of a hand on his shoulder.  Half turning, Gary saw the man he assumed must be the boy’s father.

“I didn’t want you to leave without saying ‘thank you,’” the man told him.  “And to apologize for my wife.  See, Davy’s the only child we’ll ever have and she’s very protective of him.  You saved his life and I just wanted you to know how grateful we are for that.  I’m Justin Williams.  You‘ve, um, you‘ve met my wife, Melissa, and my son, David.”

“G-Gary Hhobson, and y-you’re wel-come,” Gary replied with a smile and a nod.  “Glad I was able to h-help.  I’m an on-lly ch-child myself,” he added.  “I know how p-protective mom’s can be.”  He gave Lois a sly, sideways look.  “Th-this is my mom, Lois.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Lois murmured, a slow flush coloring her cheeks.  “Gary’s trying to remind me that he’s all grown up and I should stop jumping to his defense.  That will never happen,” she added, favoring her grinning son with a stern gaze.

Justin looked over to where his wife was still fussing over his son.  “I know,” he sighed.  Turning back to his child’s rescuer, he smiled sadly.  “Again, thank you.  If there’s ever anything I can do for you, just call,” he added, handing them a business card.  “I’m a casting director for Tri-Star. We’re based in L.A., but we’re here on vacation.”

“Chicago’s a great city for that,” Lois told him warmly.  “Well, take care of that son of yours, Mr. Williams, and have a good day.”

Williams turned back as he hurried back to his family.  “If you know anyone trying to break into the business,” he called back, “let me know.  I might be able to help.”

“Th-thanks,” Gary replied.  “I j-just might.”  He turned back to his mother, stuffing the card in his pocket.  “See. Mom?” he said.  “Not everyone is ungrateful.  Times like th-this are rare, but they happen.  When they do . . . well . . .”

“It makes it all worth it,” Lois sighed as she linked her arm with his.  “I just wish, for your sake, that they happened more often.”

“Me, too,” Gary murmured softly.  “Me, too.”

*******************

A few days later, Gary was standing in front of the same theater where he, Crumb, and the rest of their little troupe had put on an amateur production of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’  Had it really been just a little over a year ago?  After that one moment in the limelight, he had never imagined that he would agree to another such adventure.

“Are we going to stand here all day?” Crystal asked, tilting her head to give Gary an impish grin, “or are you going to show me around?”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry,” Gary murmured as he snapped himself back to the present.  “J-just sorta . . . It’s a nos-tal-gia kinda thing.”

“Ah, yes,” the young actress nodded sagely.  “Reminiscing over the first time you ‘trod the boards,’ so to speak.  You feel the excitement, the thrill of being on that stage, hearing the thunder of applause and knowing that it’s for you!  Admit it!  You’ve got the acting bug!”

“What I’ve g-got is rocks in my head for agreeing t-to do this,” Gary sighed as he led the way to the backstage door.  “C-c’mon.  It’s time for you to mmeet the others.”  They followed the narrow alley until they came to the metal door, finding it partially ajar.  “Hunh,” Gary murmured.  “They mmust’ve left it o-open for us.”  He let Crystal take his arm, leading her into the darkened entry. 

The soft murmur of voices led them to where a small, but varied, group was standing around on the open stage.  Crumb was talking animatedly with Oscar, the theater owner, about getting the right props for the various scenes.  Darlene was huddled with Sophie and Reggie, pouring over a sheaf of papers; evidently the infamous script.  A young man with dark, curly hair was setting up a table on center stage with the assistance of a pretty blonde woman.  Gary recognized him as the pizza delivery boy he had accidentally injured while trying to save someone else from a more serious injury.  He was the one Gary had been shanghaied to replace in their last production.  Chris something?  The woman seemed vaguely familiar, too.  Maybe when he heard her name he’d remember.

“Gary!”

Crumb and Oscar were coming his way.  Oscar was looking at the cane Gary was leaning on with a worried frown.

“Glad to see you could make it,” Crumb huffed.  “We was gettin’ worried you’d changed yer mind.”

“Oh, Gary wouldn’t do that!” Darlene said, raising her head to smile in their direction.  “He’s a trouper.  Remember how he went through that whole production with a sprained ankle last time?  And not a whimper out of him!”

“I-it wasn’t sprained,” Gary gently corrected her.  “Just twisted.”

“It was swollen like a grapefruit,” Crumb grumbled.  “We was beginnin’ ta think we was jinxed.”

Gary was very careful not to look at Reggie.  Although Crumb had been the one to catch him in the act of trying to sabotage the theater, the young barkeep had finally weaseled the whole story from the ex-cop before opening night.  Reggie had just been too embarrassed to admit to a horrible case of stage fright in front of Sophie, the young woman he was head-over-heels in love with. 

“You up to this, Gary?” Oscar asked.  “Last time I saw you, you didn’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” Gary assured everyone.  “M-my speech is al-most back to normal, and I’m walking around p-pretty good.  I never got to th-thank all of you for the cards and f-flowers you sent while I was hhos . . . hhosp . . . l-laid up.  It meant a lot.  Th-thank you.  Um, everyone, this is Crystal, one of my waitresses and a b-budding actress.”  He quickly introduced the others, although she was already familiar with Crumb.  When he came to the blonde, though, Gary was at a loss for words.  He still couldn’t think of where he had seen her before!  “I don’t believe I caught your name,” he shrugged apologetically.

“Elaine,” she told him, smiling sadly.  “I doubt you would remember me,” she added.  “I was only one of several people you rescued that week, from what I understand.”

Then he knew.  The library.  She was the woman who would’ve been crushed, or skewered, by a broken mobile sculpture if he had not done a ‘Tarzan’ and scooped her out of harm’s way.  His shoulder had ached for a week.

“The, um, the Emily B-Bronte Society?” he ventured to guess.

Her smile brightened immediately.  “You do remember!”

“How could I f-forget?” Gary replied with a rueful grin.  “Between you, a li-brar-ian named Abby, my chef Tony, and my b-best friend Chuck, I had one of the c-craziest weeks of my life!  Not to m-mention a real beaut of a sh-shiner.  No hhard ffeelings, though.  Right?” he added hopefully.

“Of course not,” Elaine replied with a radiant smile.

A little too radiant.  Gary was finding it hard to hold his own smile as a chill ran up his spine.  Something had just delivered a stern warning. ‘Watch out for this woman,’ it had said. Gary wasn’t sure what, exactly, was wrong about her.  Maybe it was the fact that her smile never reached her eyes.

Darlene handed the two latecomers their own copies of the script.  It was time to get down to work.  They spent the rest of that afternoon getting to know their characters and blocking out scenes.  After several hours, it was Crystal who finally called a halt.  She had noticed how her boss was beginning to have difficulty getting up and down, which he had to do a number of times while rehearsing the first scene.  He was also having a little trouble staying focused and his hand was trembling as it gripped his cane.  Gary was exhausted and trying hard not to show it.  She pulled Darlene aside, speaking softly.

“I think Gary’s had enough for one day,” the younger woman observed.  “He’s just too stubborn to admit it.”

“You could be right,” Darlene agreed, glancing over to where the object of their concern had his elbows leaning on the table, trying to scrub the weariness from his pale features.  “He’s pushing himself much too hard, isn’t he.”  It was not a question.

“He insisted on walking here from the bar, rather than take a cab or the van,” Crystal related with a sigh.  “Does that tell you anything?”

“I’ll call a cab,” Darlene replied.  She turned to the rest of the group and clapped her hands to get their attention.  “Time to call it a night, children.  We can pick it up again tomorrow at the hospital scene.  Six o’clock?  Excellent!” she exclaimed when everyone agreed.  “Gary, you sit back down.  I’m going to get you two a taxi.”

“That’s okay,” Crumb said as he shrugged into his jacket.  “I’ll drop ‘em on my way to the office.  There’s some paperwork I gotta get ready to mail in the morning, anyways.  C’mon, Hobson.  You look beat.”

“I’m okay,” Gary mumbled, unable to hide his weariness.  Even from himself.  He arose from his chair with visible effort.  Leaning on his cane a little more than he had coming in, Gary hobbled painfully toward the back stairs.  “Just a little tired.  Let’s go.”

A few minutes later, Gary leaned back into the front passenger seat with a sigh.  He ached all over, especially in his legs and shoulders. 

“You’re trying to do too much, Hobson,” Crumb grumbled as he helped Crystal get comfortable in the back.  The ex-cop circled around the car and slid behind the wheel, glancing over at the younger man.  “You’re gonna kill yourself gettin’ better.”

“Give it a rest, would ya?” Gary sighed.  “I know I over did it today and I’ll try to get more rest tomorrow.  Just . . . I can’t let up too much, or I’ll never get back to a hundred percent.”

Crystal leaned forward, resting her chin on the back of his seat.  “Do you realize,” she asked, “that you just got through that whole statement without stuttering?”

Gary turned his head, shooting her a startled, thoughtful look.  Crumb, too, looked at her, then at Gary with a big smile. 

“Come to think of it,” the crusty ex-cop observed, “you’ve hardly stuttered all night.  Just a little there when you first came in.  I think you even managed to do that whole first act without once stumbling over your tongue.”

“I did, didn’t I,” Gary murmured in an awed tone.  “Hunh!  How ‘bout that?  You-you think maybe I’m cured?”

“I hope so,” the girl smiled.  “Your friends say you’ve always stuttered when you’re excited or nervous.  At least you’re back to what you were before the accident.”

“This calls for a celebration,” Crumb insisted.  “You kids hungry?”

“Starved,” Crystal said with an exaggerated sigh.  “Chinese?”

“Sounds good,” Gary nodded.

“Chinese it is, then,” Crumb agreed as he slid the key into the ignition.  “My treat, and no arguments from you, Hobson.  Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

*************

“So this bozo tries to frame his partner for the embezzling that he’s been doin’, but he doesn’t know that all the passwords ‘ve been changed.  So there’s all this money sittin’ in an account he‘s dummied up under his buddy‘s name, and he can’t touch it!” 

Crumb was regaling his captive audience with some of his more colorful cases.  The two younger diners listened patiently through the combination platter as he had told of the man who was not only cheating on his wife, but also on both of his girlfriends . . . with a guy, no less!  Their entrees were delivered as he had launched into his latest tale.  Which sounded strangely familiar.

“Whoa!” Gary pleaded.  “H-hold on a minute.  Isn’t this kinda like the plot for that Pat-rick Swayze movie?  What was . . . ‘Ghost,’ I think it was.”

“I said he wasn’t too bright,” Crumb replied with a sly grin.  “To top it off, he started his little scam while his pal was on a wilderness retreat.  Not even a laptop for miles.”  The ex-cop shook his head ruefully.  “Some guys think that a fancy degree puts them ahead of everybody else in the brains department.”

“Hey,” Gary protested.  “D-don’t knock ‘higher education,’ Crumb.  I got a degree myself.  You can hardly be a s-stockbroker these days without an MBA.”

“True,” the big man shrugged.  “But I don’t see you haulin’ it out every ten minutes to impress people.  In fact, this is the first time since I’ve known you that you’ve even mentioned it.”

Gary suddenly found something fascinating about his Szechwan shrimp.  “N-never came up before,” he murmured.  “It’s not like I was a b-brain surgeon or anything.”

“Oh!  That reminds me,” Crystal spoke up around a bit of lo-mein.  “Dr. Sloan called this morning.  He wanted to know how you were doing and to let you know that he and Steve were going to be in town tomorrow night for that law enforcement seminar next week.  He also said to tell you that they’d be stopping by the bar for lunch on Friday, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Gary replied with a sly grin.  “New customers are always welcome.”

*****************

Crumb dropped Crystal at her apartment across from McGinty’s, then insisted on helping Gary into the bar.

“I’m not helpless, Crumb,” the younger man grumbled.  “J-just a little tired, that’s all.”

“And stubborn as a mule,” a familiar voice said from the darkness.

Both men spun to face the newcomer, with Gary almost losing his precarious balance.  The petite figure of Toni Brigatti stepped into the glow of the nearby streetlight. “How ya doin’, Hobson?” she asked in a casual tone. 

“Fine, Brigatti,” he replied in a guarded voice.  “You’re . . . You’re lookin’ good.  Is there something I can do for you?”

“Is that all you have to say?” the slender woman asked, her brown eyes studying his face as if she could read his intentions there.  “No ‘where ya been, Brigatti?’  Or ‘why did you stay away for so long?’  Nothing?  Aren’t you even curious?”

Crumb edged slowly back around to the driver’s side of his car.  “I think maybe you two need to be alone,” he grumbled.  “The day after tomorrow, Hobson.  Five o’clock.  Be ready. ”

“Sure thing, Crumb,” Gary nodded.  “And thanks for the lift.”  He leaned on his cane and waited until his friend had driven out of sight before turning to his visitor.  “To answer you’re question,” he told her, “I guess I th-thought you’d lost interest once you saw I wasn’t gonna be stuck in that chair for the rest of my life.”

A grimace of pain flickered across Brigatti’s olive-skinned features as his cutting remark hit home.  She figured that, after their last encounter, she deserved that.  At a time when he had badly needed a friend, someone he could trust, she had not just, in essence, betrayed him.  She had also used him for her own gratification.  Then, when he had tried to talk to her, to get their muddled feelings for each other sorted out, she had verbally attacked him.  He had, more or less, fled from her presence in self-defense only to wind up half-frozen in a snowdrift a few hours later.  Gary had been found just in time, his body wrapped protectively around a small child.

“That was pretty cold,” she commented, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. “I would’ve thought you’d have worked your way past that by now.  It’s not like you to hold a grudge.”

Gary had taken a few hobbling steps toward the front door.  Now he stopped to face her with a smoldering gaze.

“I’m not holding any grudges, Brigatti,” he told her in a tightly controlled voice, “but it takes two people, p-preferably two people who are actually talking to each other, to work past something like this.  Now, do you want to come inside, or would you rather we scream and yell at each other out here?”

“Lead the way,” she shrugged.  “It’s your place.”

With a nod, Gary led the way inside.  It was late and business was light.  He led her to a table near the back and, after seating her, eased himself into a seat, barely suppressing a sigh of weariness as he did so.  With a wave he got Robin’s attention and requested coffee for himself and the detective.

“So,” he huffed.  “Where do we start?”

Brigatti looked around at the sparsely tenanted bar apprehensively.  “Could we take this to your office?” she asked hesitantly.  “Or someplace more . . . private?”

“This is fine,” was Gary’s cool reply.  “I’d rather we had a few witnesses in case things get ugly.  Now, it’s late and I’ve had a busy day.  What do you want?”

Under normal circumstances, the fiery detective would have been all over him for talking to her in such a tone.  In this instance, however, Toni felt she had it coming.  In spades.  Still . . .

“For someone who’s not holding a grudge,” she grumbled, “you don’t sound very happy to see me.”

“Should I be happy?” Gary asked grimly, keeping his voice low and even with an obvious effort.  “You . . .”  He looked around to be sure no one was close enough to hear.  “You practically rape me, drug me against my will, and then act as if it were all my fault!” he hissed, leaning forward to make himself heard.  “Now, maybe I’m missing the big picture here, but I don’t see anything for me to be happy about!  Do you?  The last few times we were in the same room alone, you seemed to enjoy taking me apart.  And it always starts out with you wanting to ‘work past’ whatever happened last time, so excuse me if I’m a little suspicious of any peace overtures where you’re concerned.”

“Whoa!  Who’s been feeding you gunpowder!” Brigatti exclaimed in surprise.  “You’re not usually this . . . hostile. And what happened to your stutter?  You sound almost . . . normal.”

“I’m w-working on it,” Gary snapped.  “Now, can we get to the point here?  I’m t-tired and climbing those stairs is a royal pain.  I’d like to get it over with as soon as possible.”

The slender detective waited until Robin had set a couple of cups in front of them and poured the steaming brew.  She killed a little more time by fixing her coffee the way she liked, then taking a sip.  Finally, she could stall no longer.

“I’m not exactly sure what I wanted,” she admitted, staring down at the cup in her hands.  “Maybe . . . maybe I thought we needed to talk this out.  See if . . . if what we had that night was . . .”

“‘We?’” Gary repeated, eyes wide with astonishment.  “There was no ‘w-we’ that night, from what little I recall.  You decided to take things to ‘the next level’ on your own, at a time when I was in no shape to either p-protest or-or ap-prec-i-ate what was hhappening.  You stripped away e-every shred of dignity I had left, every p-pretense of free will, and left me w-with nothing!  Then, once my head was clear enough that I could th-think straight, I tried to t-talk to you about it.  About the . . . the possible consequences of what we’d done.  I asked you to marry me, and you made it very c-clear that you could do a lot better than me before storming out!  You acted as if I’d insulted you by caring enough to-to even suggest marriage!”

Brigatti took a sip of her warm coffee as she tried to marshal her thoughts.  Being on the defensive like this was a new thing for her.  Usually, she was the one with the upper hand.  Gary must have been terribly hurt to still be this angry.  He had every right to be, she realized.  Even before that disastrous night she had been brutal, trampling his feelings at every turn.  The role-reversal set her teeth on edge, making her feel defensive.

“Can we try to keep this on a civil basis?” she asked stiffly.  “I’m trying to apologize, here, for cryin’ out loud!  I thought . . . maybe . . . we could start over.  Take it one step at a time and see where it goes.”

“Why?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why would you want to b-bother?” Gary elaborated.  “It seems to me we’ve t-taken it as far as we can w-without actually coming to blows.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Brigatti snorted derisively.  “It hasn’t been that bad!”

“Hasn’t it?” he asked.  “Every t-time we try to have a ‘civil’ dis-cuss-ion, lately, it ends up with you t-telling me how w-worthless I am before slamming the door in my f-face!  For a while there, I was even starting to b-believe it!  I had honestly started to believe that I deserved all the crap that was being dumped all over me!  H-how’s that for an ego trip?  But I’m back on my feet, now, thank you very much, and my life is starting to fall back into some old familiar rhythms.  I’m actually starting to feel good about myself, Brigatti, and I don’t need someone coming along and knocking me down all over again.”  He looked down to where his own coffee had grown cold.  Pushing the cup away impatiently, he licked dry lips as he tried to get his jumbled emotions in order.  “I n-need to feel good about myself, Toni,” he finally said.  “I need to know that I am ‘w-worth the effort’ of at least getting a relationship s-started.  I’ve been going through hell this p-past year and it doesn’t look like it’s g-gonna let up any time soon.  So don’t go tearing me ap-part, then waltz back in four months later and try to ‘make nice.’  I can’t take it.”

“I see,” was the tiny detective’s rigid reply.  “Maybe we should table this discussion for a later date,” she suggested.  “Some time when you’re back to normal.  Did I just say something funny?”

Gary had let out with a choked laugh, recalling his little ‘inside joke.’  “D-define ‘n-normal.’” he chuckled with a rueful shake of his head.  “Toni, things may nnever be ‘n-normal’ with me.  For now, let’s just call it a truce until we can both come at this with clear heads.  Okay?”

And there it was.  An offer of peace, a ‘cease fire’ as it were, which was probably the best she could hope for at this time.  But then, what had she expected?  Everything he had said was true.  She had turned her own insecurities into a bludgeon and beat him with it unmercifully.  She returned his strained smile with a matching one of her own.  Then he rose and bid her goodnight.  Toni sat there until he had made his painful trek to the office door.  It occurred to her, then, that Gary Hobson was a lot more man than she gave him credit for.  Probably a lot more than he gave himself credit for.

*******************

Gary awoke at his usual time, 6:30 AM, just in time to hear the cat and the paper hit his doorstep.  With a sigh, he levered himself out of bed and fumbled for his cane.  Mornings were especially hard for him.  His legs felt stiff and leaden after six to eight hours of disuse.  Plus, he had not slept well after his little confrontation with Brigatti.  True, it had felt good to get everything out in the open.  Gary worried that he had been too rough on her, though.  He didn’t want to drive her away. He just wanted her to respect the fact that he was every bit as human as she was, with all the same rights, responsibilities and fallacies that word entailed..

Truthfully, he was curious to see where their relationship might go.  Some part of him wanted to believe they could have something special.  The rest of him wanted to cringe at the mere mention of her name.  That woman was driving him crazy!  Gary found himself torn between wanting to forgive her and start over, and never seeing her again as long as he lived.

“Mrrowwrr!”

“Keep your fur on,” Gary grumbled as he shuffled toward the door.  It was moments like this that he wished his parents had not decided to rent an apartment across the street.  They said it was for their benefit, but he knew they had grown concerned about crowding him.  ‘Just as well,’ he thought to himself.  ‘I need to be looking after myself more anyway.’

Gary finally opened the door, stepping aside to let the cat trot in with his usual air of aloofness.  The young ‘Guardian,’ as someone had once labeled him, watched as the feline sauntered regally up to the food dish.  The orange tabby sat next to the empty container, staring back at him expectantly.

“I’m m-moving as fast as I can,” Gary sighed as he reached down for the paper.  After a quick glance at the headlines, he tucked the periodical under his arm and closed the door.  Once he had the cat taken care of he would sit down and go over it from cover to cover.

A few minutes later, he was sipping at a fresh cup of coffee as he skimmed the headlines in search of trouble.  There didn’t seem to be anything before ten o’clock.  A man would be hit by a taxi while talking to his wife on his cell-phone.  An hour later, a woman would be mugged near the fountain in Grant Park, just a few blocks away.  That left one case of food poisoning from contaminated seafood later on that evening.  Nothing he couldn’t handle on his own.

Gary spent half an hour on his new treadmill, which was ten minutes more than he had done the day before.  He was still barely able to do more than a lumbering trot, but he was lumbering a little faster each day, or so it seemed.

Showered and shaved with an hour to spare, Gary called a taxi to take him to State St. and 8th.  It was time to get to work.

******************

“Too bad they couldn’t wait ‘til June for this seminar,” Dr. Mark Sloan said as their taxi turned off onto South State St.  “I would’ve loved to have been here for the Blues Festival.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed.  “Me, too.  I think that’s why they chose April, so we’d actually get some work done.”  The younger man gazed out his window at the scenery and the people.  “Maybe we can at least see a little horseracing.  Or a ballgame.”  He leaned forward as he spied a familiar face.  “Isn’t that Gary Hobson?” he asked, pointing at a dark-haired figure in jeans and sweatshirt hobbling rapidly up to the intersection just ahead of them.

“Well, I’ll be . . . You’re right!  And he’s walking!” the kindly physician exclaimed.  “Or limping, at least.  I’ll have to call Dr. Fraiser and give her the good news.  I wonder where he’s going in such a . . . “

“Look out!”

The taxi slammed on its brakes, going into a controlled skid and narrowly missing a middle-aged man with a cell-phone pressed against his ear.  The man would have been crushed by the cab if not for Hobson grabbing his arm and practically slinging him back onto the sidewalk.  Still, the momentum spun Gary half into the street where the vehicle caught him a glancing blow on the left hip.  As he tumbled to the pavement, Dr. Sloan leaped from the now stationary cab and rushed to his side, with Steve only a few steps behind him.  Gary was already trying to get up, with little success. 

“Don’t move!” Dr. Sloan snapped.  “Wait for the paramedics.  You!” he barked at the man Gary had saved.  “Call 911!  Now!  Just hold still, Gary, and let me check you over.”

“D-Dr. Sloan?” Gary murmured in surprise.  “I thought you guys weren’t due in ‘til tonight!”  He reached a hand up to the silver-haired older man.  “Could you help me up?  I’m n-not hurt.  Just lost my balance.”

“How about letting me check you over, anyway,” Dr. Sloan insisted.  “I like to keep in practice.”  He gently probed for injuries, not finding much until he got to the left thigh.  Gary was unable to suppress a grimace as the doctor’s trained hands encountered a painfully tender area. “Lost your balance, hmm?  I think an x-ray is in order.  Gary, lie still!  You’ll hurt yourself!”

Gently, but firmly, pushing aside the doctor’s restraining hands, Gary levered himself up on his elbows.  “That’ll take hours and I don’t have that much time,” he tried to explain.  “I have to get to the fountain in G-Grant Park before eleven.”

Steve knelt down next to the injured man and placed a hand on his chest.  “Easy, pal,” he said.  “What’s so urgent that you want to risk another session in a wheelchair?”  Then it hit him.  “Is this something like what happened back home?  A, ahm, a premonition sorta thing?”

“Sorta,” Gary grumbled impatiently.  “Look you can take me to the hospital after I do . . . what I gotta do.  Please!”  He pushed their hands away and struggled to his feet with the help of his cane.  After a few limping steps, he was able to convince them that no bones were broken.  This time.  “Now, can you p-please take me to Grant P-park?” he pleaded.  “It’s just a few blocks away!”

They got there with fifteen minutes to spare.  The three men hung back until the mugger actually laid hands on the woman named in the paper.  Steve gave a shout and collared the man before he had gotten ten paces.  The woman thanked them profusely as the mugger was taken away in the squad car Mark had flagged down.  Moments later, they were on their way to Cook County Hospital.

*******************

“I thought we agreed not to meet like this anymore,” Polly quipped as she slid the film into the tray beneath the x-ray table.  “People are sayin’ we got a ‘thing’ goin’ on.”

“Trust me, Polly,” Gary replied with a grimace as she turned his left leg outward, “this wasn’t in my p-plans when I got up this morning.”

The middle-aged tech grinned as she stepped around the lead barrier to the console.  “Hold your breath, sweetie,” she instructed.  A loud beep sounded, followed immediately by permission to breathe.  Polly stepped back into the room to retrieve her film. “You can relax now,” she told him.  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

True to her word, Polly was wheeling Gary back to the ER less than ten minutes later.

“How come you’re always here when I get brought in, Polly?” Gary asked.  “I think you’ve x-rayed every inch of me at one time or another.”

“After last May,” she joked, “I had it put in my job description.  ‘To be called in whenever G. Hobson needs an x-ray.’  Seriously, though, it’s just coincidence.  Don’t go thinkin’ we got some ‘karmic link’ or anything like that.”

Gary shook his head with a rueful smile.  “I don’t know,” he chuckled as they approached the treatment room.  “Stranger things have happened.”

Polly just smiled and shook her head as she helped him back onto the exam table.  She then handed the packet of films to Dr. Carter.  “Here ya go, Doc,” she told him.  “Don’t lose these.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you, Polly?” the young resident sighed as he took the films.

“Two hours work on one of the orneriest patients to ever come through these doors?” the normally placid tech responded acidly.  “What do you think?”  Polly flicked Gary a jaunty wave and a smile, then left to return to her department.

Carter shook his head ruefully as he put the first film on the view box.

“What was that about?” Dr. Sloan asked as he peered closely at the x-ray of Gary’s pelvic bones.  “Did you lose some films?”

“For a while,” Dr. Carter sighed.  “A guy tried to hang himself and the rope broke, dropping him down a steep embankment.  I ordered a number of films and she did a great job, ‘specially as the guy was being a real jerk.  Somehow, they got mislaid when the guy was transferred to psychiatric.  Polly had to repeat every single film so we could generate a report.  She was not happy.”

Mark winced in sympathy as he imagined her reaction.  “Can’t say as I blame her, really,” he murmured, engrossed in his study of the film.  He took down the first image to replace it with the second view of Gary’s hip joint.  “I take it they were found later?”

“Someone had slid them under the stretcher pad to be transported with the patient,” the youthful physician replied.  “Of course, they were found over a week later, so . . . Anyway, Polly assures me that she’ll get over it.  Eventually.”  They studied the films of Gary’s thigh for a moment, then turned to face the man on the table.  “You got lucky this time, Gary,” he said.  “No broken bones.  I was worried about that femur for a moment, but it’s holding up well.  Still, you’re going to have one hell of a bruise.”

“I can live with that,” Gary quipped.  “Does that mean I can put my clothes on now?”

“Sure,” Carter nodded, making notes on Gary’s chart.  “Just stay off your feet for a few days.  I know that’s not what you want to hear at this time, but that’s going to be extremely painful for a while.”

“All things considered, Doc, I‘ll take the p-pain over not feeling anything at all” Gary replied as he slipped into his jeans.  “I’ll try to stay off my feet as much as p-possible, though,” he promised.  He tried, and failed, to hide a grimace as he bent down to tie his shoelaces. 

Steve stepped forward, gently pushing the younger man onto a stool.  “Let me do that,” he said.  “Just sit still.”

“I can do that!” Gary protested, trying to push the detective’s hands away.

“Sure you can,” Steve grinned.  “But it doesn’t hurt when I do it.  There you go.”

“I thought you guys were here for a seminar,” Gary grumbled as he levered himself to his feet with a little help from Steve.  “Not to baby-sit me.”

“We are,” Steve replied with a grim chuckle.  “We just couldn’t pass up a chance to return a favor.  You do remember the kid with the snake?”

“I remember,” the young barkeep murmured uncomfortably.  “C-could we talk about this outside?  I need t-to get back home.  Th-there’s some business I’ve gotta take care of.”  Meaning a certain restaurant he had to call before they began preparing tonight’s entrees.  With any luck, he could come up with a convincing reason for them to alter their menu for one night.

****************

Continue to Installment 2
 

Email the author: Polgana54@cs.com
 

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