“Yes?” There was an urgency in her voice, a pressing quality that told him she knew what was coming.
“Well, at some point we’ll have to make a decision about the desirability of perpetuating life support.”
“It’s too soon for that.”
“I agree. But … you might be thinking about it, just the same.”
The silence seemed interminable. He had almost moved on when he heard: “Thank you, Doctor. Now, if you don’t mind …”
“Of course. If there’s anything I can do …”
“Actually, there is. Do you know of a place nearby where I could get a harmonica?”
“A harmonica? May I ask why?”
“I’m going to play Bobby Darin songs. You know—like ‘Mack the Knife.’ I know it seems crazy. But he likes them.”
He had expected everything to be white, all white, but was pleased to find instead that it was a vivid Kodachrome green. It was a forest, deep and impenetrable and alive, just like the one he had played in as a boy behind his grandmother’s house in Arkansas. In fact, it was the one he had played in as a boy behind his grandmother’s house in Arkansas.
Never mind that his grandmother was long since dead, that the property had been sold, and that the forest had been clear-cut by a major lumber company. It was here, and he was in it.
“Be-en! Are you ready?”
He turned and saw her running toward him, weaving expertly between the trees, pigtails flying. It was his sister, Julia, except she was only nine years old. Come to notice, he was only eleven himself.
He remembered this summer. His parents had gone abroad for some Mediterranean cruise, and he and Julia had stayed with their grandmother, playing, drinking lemonade, basking in the sun. This was before puberty, before adolescence, before college and husbands and broken promises. This was back when the world was about lightning bugs and comic books and blindman’s buff, and he and Julia had been the two best friends in the entire world.
“Are you ready?” she asked breathlessly.
“I am,” he said. He wondered what they were going to do this afternoon.
“Where’s the first clue?”
Ah, a treasure hunt. Ben had prepared dozens of elaborate treasure hunts for his younger sister, with clues sending her far and wide across the property until at last she reached the Snickers bar buried at the final destination.
He handed her a scrap of paper. She unfolded it eagerly and read: “ ‘Not C, nor D, nor E, F, G, H, I. To the home of the traveler you must now fly’ ”
She peered up at him, confused, thinking it over. The sunlight made her freckles appear golden. “Traveler? You mean Mom and Dad. But they’re—”
All at once she beamed. “No, you mean the bird’s nest.” Yesterday, during their exploration of the forest, they had discovered a blue jay’s nest on a high branch of an old oak tree. They had watched it for almost an hour. They didn’t disturb anything. They just watched, watched the mother care for her hatchlings, watched her bring them grubs and bugs to eat.
“I get it.” The pride of solution made her face glow. “Not C, D, E, F, G, H, or I because they’re blue jays.”
She raced toward the old oak tree with Ben close behind. At the base, she stopped unexpectedly, pushed up on her tiptoes, and kissed Ben on the cheek. “You make the very best ever treasure hunts, Ben.” Her eyes were wide with excitement and admiration. “I hope this goes on forever.”
Ben watched as she shimmied up the tree, his eyes brimming with tears. I hope it does, too, he thought.
Ben?
What? What? Why was she interrupting?
“Ben, this is Nurse Tucker. You can call me Angela. I’m here to take care of you. Whatever you need, I’m here to provide.”
Go away, he thought. I don’t want to be bothered.
“ ’Course, it’s going to be hard for you to tell me what you want, since you’re not talking. Tell you what. You just think about whatever it is you want, and I’ll see if I can’t figure it out.”
He heard footsteps moving around the bed, surveying the situation.
“Sheets all appear to be properly tucked and folded. Your IV bag is filled. Respirator seems to be working normally. All outward appearances are A-OK.” There was a pause, and the voice drew closer. “What I’m more concerned about is what’s going on inside.”
He sensed her presence more than felt it. Was it the shadow, the warmth? Somehow, he knew she was drawing near.
“Ben, listen to me. I know it may be very … peaceful where you are right now. Very tranquil. It must be tempting to just stay there. But, Ben, you’re needed here. By your friends, your loved ones. All the people you’ve helped. And the however many more you could help in the future. If you come back.”
Yes, yes, no doubt. May I go now?
At the end of the summer, Ben’s parents arrived to collect their children. Julia met them both at the door, wrapped her arms around them, and smothered them with hugs and kisses. Young Ben stood by himself in the corner of the room.
His father noticed. He pulled a small package out of his coat pocket. “Hey, Ben. I have a present for you.”
Ben glanced up, then looked back down at the floor. He didn’t budge.
His mother, peering over Julia’s shoulder, frowned. “Benjamin?” She exchanged a glance with her husband. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know.” He walked over to Ben and laid his hand on Ben’s back. “Perhaps we should have a private talk.”
He escorted Ben into one of the back bedrooms and shut the door. “All right, son. Let’s have it.”
Ben twitched uncomfortably but didn’t say anything.
“Come on, now. I’ve seen that guilt-ridden expression before. Tell me what you’ve done.”
Ben’s mouth was so dry he could barely speak. “You remember … before you left you lent me your pocket knife.”
“Of course. My top-of-the-line Swiss Army knife. Bought that thing in Zurich when I was just a college kid.”
“You said I could use it if”—he coughed, sputtered—“… if I promised to take care of it.”
His father looked down at him sternly. “Ye-es …”
Ben reached into his pocket and held out the knife. It was rusted and faded; one of the blades was bent. “I left it out in the rain.”
His father nodded gravely. “I see. So that’s what this is all about.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You see your parents for the first time in three months, but you can’t enjoy it because you know you’ve done something bad. Is that about it?”
Ben brought his head up. His eyes were wide and scared. “Are you going to … to punish me?”
“Yes, Ben, I’m afraid I am.”
Ben threw his head down dejectedly. “You must hate me.”
“Whoa, boy. Wait just a minute.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, scooped Ben up, and sat him down on his lap. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea here. Sure, I’m going to punish you. How else would you learn not to do things like that? But that doesn’t mean I hate you. Just the opposite. You’re still my boy, no matter what you do.”
He put a finger under Ben’s chin and lifted it till their eyes met. “Understand that? Doesn’t matter what you do or say. Doesn’t matter what I do or say. You’re my boy, and you always will be. Got it?”
Ben was so overcome he threw his arms around his father and hugged him tightly. Of course, he thought. This is how it was. This is what I should remember.
Tears spilled out of his eyes. “We—we should probably go back with Mom and Julia,” he said between sniffles.
“No hurry,” his father said, patting Ben on the back. “Let’s just stay here a little while.”
That’s right, Ben thought, clinging to that warm and wonderful embrace. Let’s just stay here. Let’s just stay here …