“Ben? It’s Nurse Tucker.”
Oh, please, not again!
“I don’t think you were listening to me. Or maybe you just forgot.”
He felt that touch again, that presence. Whatever it was.
“Ben, I know escape is very close to you. Very tempting. But your time is not over. You’re needed here.”
Just leave me. Just let me go.
“Ben, I know it must seem hardly worth the trouble right now. Everything worth doing is so hard. But you can’t take the easy out, Ben. There are too many people who need you. In fact, here’s one now.”
The voice changed. “Ben?”
Christina? Christina is someone who—
“I’ve been stopping in to see Mrs. Marmelstein. She’s all right for now, but—well, you know. You’re the one she really wants.”
There was a long silence. He could feel her grasping, searching for words …
“Ben, I know I’ve been giving you a hard time lately, hassling you, telling you to be who you really are. It’s only because I care, you know? But—” Her voice broke off. “But I’m supposed to be your friend and now I’m afraid that maybe I’ve given you such a bad time that, like, maybe you don’t want to come back. Maybe you’d just as soon not have me pestering you. Maybe you’d like a little peace.”
Her voice seemed to dissolve. “And I just couldn’t stand that, Ben. Do you hear me?” Her voice swelled. “So if you’re in there staring at some stupid bright white light thinking about how nice and cozy everything would be on the other side, forget it, okay? You belong here, and I want you back!” She was shaking the side of his bed. “I want you back!”
Did I feel that, he wondered, or did I just think I did?
“And if you won’t come back on your own … I swear—I’ll resort to desperate measures.”
Christina, please—
“I’ve been going by your apartment every day. I don’t know why; I just like being there, after visiting hours end at the hospital. Someone had to get your mail. I suppose I didn’t have to read it … but when I saw this letter from a New York publisher, I thought—” Her voice sounded so hurt, so broken. “—I just thought that if I could find something new or exciting, something that would give you a reason, well, then I could make you come back.”
He heard the rustling of the envelope, the unfolding of the paper.
“Are you listening, Ben? They want to publish your book. Did you hear that? I’ll say it again. They want to publish your book! I’m not kidding.”
My book? My book?
“They think it has real commercial possibilities. Of course they want to make some changes.”
Changes? What—
“They say your use of language is a bit awkward in places, but they think their editorial committee can fix it.”
Fix it? Fix it?
“The art department wants you to add more vivid descriptions of the murder victims so they’ll have something to use for cover art. And the publicity department wants you to pump up the action. Maybe add a car chase.”
Now wait a minute …
“And of course, they want to change the title.”
Change the title? Change it to what?
Scales seemed to fall from his eyes. The gummy blackness faded away. He was aware of his arms, his legs…
“Change … the … title?”
He opened his eyes.
“Ben!” Christina exclaimed. “You’re back!” She lurched forward and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I asked you to come back and you did! You came back!”
The muscles of his jaw were like rusted gate hinges, but he made them move. “Have … I… ever … denied … you … anything?”
Chapter 52
THREE WEEKS AFTER he was discharged from the hospital, Ben made his way back to Jones and Loving’s offices. He still didn’t move with quite the bounce he once had; a broken rib was knitting and his head hurt whenever he moved too much or too fast. But all things considered, he was recovering quite well. Of course, all things considered, it was a miracle he was alive.
He rode the elevator to the seventh floor. He had left many of his belongings there while he was working on Earl’s case, and he didn’t want to abuse his friends’ generosity by trashing up their office space.
He crossed the corridor and headed for their office. He pushed himself through the double doors and …
“Surprise!”
The place was decorated in a cross between Mardi Gras and a nine-year-old’s birthday party. The lobby was festooned with crepe paper and brightly colored balloons. Streamers trailed down from the ceiling and across the walls. Christina and Jones and Loving and Paula all stood in a row blowing noisemakers and those party favors that stick out their tongue when you blow into them.
“Welcome home!” they shouted.
Ben stared at them, stunned. “Well … thank you, but you know, I just came to—”
“Let me show you your office.” Christina wrapped her arm around his and escorted him down the hallway. The others trailed behind.
“We gave you the largest office in the suite,” Christina explained. They swerved into the dark room and she flipped on the light. A fully furnished, fully equipped office sprang to life.
“See? It’s just like your old office. Well, except that the furniture is nicer. And the carpet is nicer. And the phone is nicer. Actually, everything is nicer. But other than that, it’s just the same.”
Ben’s eyes floated across the room, drinking it all in. It did have a pleasant look to it. A good feel. He could be comfortable here. Of course, Christina would know that. She would know how to decorate to his taste, just as she somehow knew he was coming to the office this morning.
“There’s more,” she said, shoving him back into the corridor.
“Right,” Jones said. He dropped Paula’s hand and skittered back to his desk, returning seconds later. “This is for you.”
What he held out to Ben was a snazzy brown leather briefcase with a bright red ribbon tied around the handles.
Ben took the gift from him, lightly brushing his hands over the smooth brown surface. “You shouldn’t have,” he said quietly.
“ ’Course we should, Skipper,” Loving said, piping in. “You can’t be a lawyer without a briefcase. I think that’s in the code of ethics or somethin’, ain’t it?”
Ben held the briefcase close to him and smiled.
Paula cut in. “Have you people forgotten this man was injured? Get him a chair.” Jones and Loving raced to be the one to do it. “How do you feel, anyway?”
As he took the proffered chair, Ben let his eyes wander all around, to the spanking new office, the new briefcase, and best of all, the beaming faces of his coworkers. His friends.
“I feel …” He paused, drawing in his breath. “I feel like I’ve come home.”
That evening, when Ben returned to his apartment, he found Christina sitting on the sofa and writing on a scrap of newspaper.
“There you are,” she said. “What took you?”
“I’ve been downstairs. What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking over your apartment by adverse possession ab initio.”
Ben sighed. More legal Latin. “Christina—”
“I thought now that I know all this Latin, you’d think I was more sophisticated.”
“Christina, you don’t have to switch from French to Latin for me. You don’t have to change anything for me. I like you just fine the way you are.”
Christina sat bolt upright. “You do?”
Ben turned away from the penetrating gaze. “Uh … what are you doing?”
“Well, I saw that you were stuck on your crossword, so I finished it for you.”