Teri took a sip of coffee, and got up to pour herself another cup. Michael had listened patiently, without rushing her, and she had been grateful for that. It had, to a large extent, she supposed, kept her from breaking down and crying. “More coffee?”
“No, I better not. I’ll be up all night.”
She stared down at her empty cup, debating. Last night had been a light sleep, lots of tossing and turning; breezy, unremembered dreams; the sounds of the house bringing her up; her exhaustion taking her down again. It would be nice if her dreams could keep her in their fold tonight. She left the coffee cup on the counter and returned to the table.
“So what are we dancing around?” Michael finally asked.
Teri looked at him, seriously, not knowing how else to skirt around it. Her voice was soft. “I don’t think it’s over. I think Gabe’s got something similar to Hutchinson-Gilford Syndrome.”
She explained as much as she knew, and Michael took the news like a trooper, barely a reaction. He suggested they have him tested, since they were relying primarily on the word of Childs and neither of them had reason to trust anything the man said. Especially as it related to Gabe. Teri agreed. She called Cindy to let her know what they were going to do, in case she wanted to have Cody tested as well.
At first, Cindy balked at the idea. She was still whirling from the shock of finding Cody alive, and Teri suspected she hadn’t even had a chance yet to deal with the fact that Cody was the same age today as he had been when he had disappeared. When you looked at him, there wasn’t a hint of what was going on inside his body. He appeared as healthy and as precious as the day he had been born.
But looks could be deceiving.
“He’s the same age, Cindy. How do you think he got that way?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it wasn’t by the love of God.”
There was a long pause at the other end. Then Cindy said, “Maybe it was, though. Maybe that’s exactly what it was. The love of God.”
After that, it felt like an uphill battle. Teri did her best to try to convince her friend that she had nothing to lose, that neither of them had anything to lose. But that wasn’t entirely true, and they both knew it. There was something to lose. There was Cody. And there was Gabe. In the end, Cindy said she needed to talk it over with her husband. They both needed to think about it, that it was not something to be taken lightly.
The next morning, to Teri’s surprise, her friend called back and reluctantly agreed to have Cody tested, too.
[4]
After a barrage of doctors and batteries of tests, Teri finally admitted two things to herself. First, that Childs hadn’t lied after all. The physicians and specialists all agreed that Gabe’s cells were not regenerating the way normal, healthy cells regenerate. It was a classic indication of Hutchinson-Gilford Syndrome, they said. After which, they went into long explanations that all boiled down to the same thing: Gabe was aging prematurely, and as with most cases of progeria, he probably wouldn’t survive his teens. The news in Cody’s case was equally as grim.
Teri was devastated. The next few days, she fell into a funk that had her sleeping long hours throughout the day and struggling on and off with a barrage of headaches throughout the night. Michael helped out with most of the duties around the house – cooking the meals, doing the dishes, mowing the lawn. More important, he spent a great deal of time with Gabe. For both of them, it was time long overdue.
Several days later, Teri bounced back. She went to Michael one night after Gabe had gone off to bed and told him that she didn’t know what they were going to do, but they were going to do something.
“Like what?” Michael asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “Search for a specialist, I guess.”
Michael looked at her, entertaining a thought he didn’t seem to want to share.
“If you have any suggestions…”
He glanced away.
“This is Gabe we’re talking about, Michael. Your son for Christ’s sake.”
“I know that.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’ll be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.”
“Just say it, will you.”
“What about Childs?”
“Oh, Jesus.” Teri was stunned. She shook her head, and climbed up from the couch. “Jesus, Michael. How could you even think such a thing? I mean—he’s the cause of all this. He’s the one who did this to Gabe in the first place. How could you even—”
“He’s the only one who knows what’s going on inside Gabe. He may be the only one who can put a stop to it. I don’t think he could make it any worse. Do you?”
She shook her head again, and ran a hand through her hair. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you.”
“Just think about it, Teri. Will you? At least give it a chance.”
It was not an idea that deserved a chance. Not from her way of thinking. Not so soon after all that had happened. And for a while, Teri not only hated the idea, she hated Michael for bringing it up. But what she hated even more was that he was probably right. This wasn’t about Dr. Childs. It was about Gabe. And if that’s what it was going to take…
[5]
There were four branches of the Devol Research Institute nationwide: Houston, Texas; St. Charles, Illinois; Reston, Virginia, and the local branch. In those four facilities, a total of eighty-seven children, not including Gabe and Cody, had been discovered. All of them had been comatose.
Seventy-four of the children were returned to their parents, who had to assume the responsibility of caring for a child they thought had been dead for better than ten years. Thirteen of the children were placed in state care facilities, some because efforts to locate their parents had failed, others because the parents no longer proved to be capable of providing care.
Over the next few months, seven other children would come out of their comas.
[6]
Six Months Later
The Last Day
They left the house around ten-thirty. Gabe was dressed in the same dark blue suit Teri had bought for him for Walt’s funeral shortly after that last night at the Institute. Michael did the driving on the way over. Teri didn’t know if it had been the right thing or not, but she had been the one who had made the funeral arrangements for Walt. She had purchased a plot for him at the Hillcrest Cemetery, next to his father and son. Maybe in death they could find the peace that had eluded them in life.
Gabe sat in the front seat between her and Michael on the ride over.
All three of them were quiet.
It was a beautiful fall day, the sky blue, the temperature in the mid-seventies, a few degrees higher than normal for this time of year. They walked hand-in-hand-in-hand down the row of tombstones, past a family mausoleum, past a cinerarium to the end of the third row where the oak tree was now barren of its leaves.
Teri, who had brought a bouquet of roses with her, stood in silent prayer.
Gabe looked up at her, his eyes trying to see what was going on inside her heart. A little piece of her was dying, she thought. That was what was going on.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
She let him take the roses from her hands and place them at the base of the gravestone. Michael, who was standing behind her, placed his hand over her shoulder for comfort.
Gabe looked up. “You think we should say something?”