Chapter 4
“I can explain.”
“So it’s true?” Caleb swallowed hard. Once again, he was going to lose a woman he’d come to care about. Maybe even a woman he was falling in love with.
“I—”
“Answer my question, damn it.”
She raised her chin and looked at him, as if she was totally innocent. “All right, it’s true.”
He sank onto the chair. She did too. Now the night air felt smothering. “How long after being with him did you sleep with me?”
“It was early on, Caleb, right after we met at the Grill. You and I weren’t close yet.”
That sounded reasonable. But still, his throat clogged. What kind of woman slept with two different men two weeks apart? He took a deep breath and stood. “I need some time.”
She bolted up. “No, please, don’t go.”
“I need some time.”
“Stay here. We’ll talk it out.”
“Not a good idea. I’ll call you.” After he processed this.
“Okay. But if you hear from Harlan, let me know.”
“Of course.”
On the drive home, the image of Gemma with another man plagued him. Added to his worry over Harlan, he could barely contain it.
What did you expect? That she’d lived like a nun?
Damn it, God. Leave me alone.
Never.
Hell, he was so confused that he fell back into thinking those messages came from God. Stop it right now , Shepherd .
Caleb reached his house and tried to leave the evening in his car. He got inside, went to his office, sat at his desk, then called up his notes on his last few patients.
But he couldn’t concentrate. He knew it was dangerous to his well-being to wallow so he picked up his phone to call Maisy. And put it right back down. He’d ruin her night. And Jackson’s. Besides, they were worried about Harlan, too. He tried the boy’s number for the hundredth time. No answer.
Then he remembered his counselor’s advice to write in his journal when he felt stuck. So he took out the leather-bound book he’d bought for this purpose. He felt stupid when he began to write, like a teenage girl pouring out her heartbreak, but he kept going. And soon, he lost himself in the activity.
* * *
Gemma walked around the pool distraught. First off, the nagging sensation of Harlan’s situation was more important than Caleb’s accusations. She tried to tell herself that they’d hear from Harlan soon. And she told herself she could get over Caleb, that she hadn’t known him very long. But she kept going back to being with him—in bed and out.
“Arrgh!” She whipped off her coverup and dove into the deep end. The water was warm from the heat outside. She did a few laps, the waves following her.
When she was ready, she climbed up the ladder in the deep end and wrapped a fuzzy pink towel around her. She checked her phone which sat on the table. No calls about Harlan. Hell. Where was he? She stuck the cell in her pocket, picked up her drink and went into her house. She caught sight of the brown paper bag that contained their meal for the night. Scents of chicken and soy sauce wafted up to her.
“What the hell?” She got out her chopsticks and opened a carton. She ate standing up at the counter and finishing her G&T. When she was full, she fished out the other carton to put in the fridge, then caught sight of the fortune cookies. She unwrapped one. Read the message inside.
Go after what you truly want .
“Shit.” She’d already tried that.
Worry followed her when she went upstairs, where she changed into a sleeveless white islet nightgown with a ruffle at the bottom and opened the bedroom window. She tried to let the heat of the day warm her, to let the crickets’ nightly song cheer her up. “Damn him.”
Her computer pinged from the desk across the room. She flew to it. The missive was from Caleb.
Dear Gemma,
I’m sorry if me leaving tonight upset you. I’ve done some writing about you, what happened tonight and my feelings about our whole relationship. My conclusion is that I did exactly what I’ve been avoiding since I left my church. Since the bombing.
I never wanted to get close enough with anyone who could hurt me. I threw myself into my work, into remodeling the house with Maisy, into starting a practice.
I know what this says about me. I tell my patients to never run away from their feelings. And yes, I’m a hypocrite because all I want to do now is run away. It’s hard enough that I love Maisy and Jackson. But I can’t take any more risks like I did with you. I’m sorry if you’re hurt, Gemma, but it’s over between us.
I’ll keep you posted about Harlan. No news yet.
Caleb
Gemma dropped down into the chair. She wasn’t shocked by his decision. She knew, she knew all along he wanted to avoid entanglements. She’d apologized for pushing him that day at lunch.
Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t help.
She put her folded arms on the desk and her head on top of them. And cried. Over Caleb. And over Harlan.
* * *
Two days later, Harlan was still missing. Caleb dressed for a scheduled meeting with Jackson at Pathways. He hoped Jackson had news about him.
Gemma would be there. Caleb vowed to endure it.
When he opened the outside door from his office, he found someone on his small porch. It took a minute to register who the visitor was. Saul Jacobs had aged since the bombing. His hair was turning gray and his eyes were dull.
“Hello, Caleb.”
Caleb gripped the doorknob. “I-I thought you were in jail.”
“Turns out they didn’t have enough to convict me. Probably because I didn’t bomb the church.”
He wasn’t buying that. “Why are you here?”
“I want your forgiveness. For Marlena.”
“Are you and Marlena still together?”
“No. It…didn’t work out.”
Caleb shook his head. “All that for nothing.” There truly was no God.
“Can I come in?”
“No, I have a very important meeting about a boy I’m counseling.”
“I need to talk to you, too.” His desperation melted some of Caleb’s anger at the man.
“Give me your contact information. I’ll think about calling you.” The guy handed him a card. “Now goodbye.”
Jacobs left—limping--and Caleb went to the garage to get in his car. All the way to Pathways, he blocked out Jacobs’ visit and focused on Harlan and what to do next.
He walked into Jackson’s office to find Gemma already there. “Is there news?” he asked Jackson.
“No. Harlan’s still MIA.”
Caleb dropped down in a chair, avoiding Gemma’s gaze.
Jackson continued, “He’s in violation of Pathways’ agreement with the law. Technically, he should go to juvie now.”
Gemma leaned over the table. “That’s ridiculous. The school year’s over. He fulfilled his requirements. Graduation’s less than a week away.”
“I know, Gemma.” Jackson seemed at his wit’s end. “But I have responsibilities to Pathways to obey the law.”
“Who would you report to?”
“I have a contact with the State.”
Gemma’s expression turned sad. “I don’t mean to hurt you with this but remember what happened last time you reported a boy from Pathways? It turned out to be a mistake.”
Jackson looked as if she’d punched him in the gut. “Frankie Pecorino. I righted my mistake.”
“Listen to yourself. You know that it was a mistake then, and it’s a mistake now.”
She was right and Jackson knew it.
Just then, Caleb’s phone rang. “Maybe this is him.” He fished out his cell. “Caleb Shepherd.”
“Hello. I’m Dr. Paxton Barry. I run the Main Street Clinic in Syracuse.” Caleb pressed the speaker button and placed the phone on the table. “The police found a boy in an alley near here. They brought him to us. He had your card with your number on it in his backpack.”
“Is it Harlan Ford? We’ve been frantic about him.”
“It is. And you were right to worry. The boy’s in bad shape.”
“Could you explain that?”
“Physically. And mentally, too. Dr. Shepherd, he slit his wrists. Luckily, we got to him in time.”
Gemma gasped.
Jackson spun around.
And Caleb went into counselor mode.
* * *
Gemma’s heart was pounding when the three of them climbed into a Pathways van and headed to the thruway. She sat up front with Jackson but was aware of Caleb in the back.
Jackson reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix this.”
“I hope we have another chance with him.”
From the rear, Caleb squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t buy trouble, honey.”
“Thank you, both.” She took in a deep breath. The support helped.
They got off at the first exit to Syracuse and headed straight downtown. The streets got rougher and rougher, the buildings shabbier and shabbier. Men and women hung out on the street corners.
“How on earth did he end up here?” Gemma asked softly.
“It was good luck that he did,” Jackson answered. “He got help here.”
They parked the van in front of a building. A shabby sign hung over a door. It said simply, Clinic .
They rushed inside and found a packed waiting room with people squeezed into seats and standing against walls. A child cried softly in his mother’s arms. A bent-over man hacked with cough. One teenager moaned. They were all wearing masks, which were probably required.
Jackson approached the desk. A nurse in a white uniform looked up at them. Her eyes were tired and her shoulders slumped.
“Hello. I’m Caleb Shepherd. I got a call from Dr. Barry. One of our students was brought in here. Harlan Ford.”
Her eyes flashed with worry. She picked up the phone. “Dr. Barry. The people to see Harlan Ford are here.” When she hung up she moved to a door at the left, opened it and said, “Go right in.”
They walked into a treatment area that smelled like blood and sickness. It, too, was crowded with stalls full of people. Jackson called out, “Dr. Barry?”
A man walked out of one of the curtained areas. He was tall and fit with a shock of thick hair. But his face was lined with concern. “I’m Pax.”
“We’re from Pathways,” Caleb told him.
“Come with me.” He moved down three stalls and drew aside the curtain. A woman in street clothes stood from the chair where she was seated next to the bed. “Hello.”
“How’s our patient?” Dr. Barry asked.
Harlan lay still. His face nearly matched the color of the sheets. Starker white gauze was wrapped around his wrists and an IV was attached to his arm. Gemma stumbled as she got closer. Caleb was at her side in moments. He let her lean on him. “He’s alive, Gemma.”
“He looks dead,” she whispered.
“He’s not,” Jackson put in firmly. He turned to the doctor. “What more can you tell us?”
“That he meant business. His cuts are vertical. These kinds of slits shred the radial artery, causing more loss of blood than horizontal cuts. The patient can bleed out fast.”
“But he’s all right?” Caleb asked.
“He’s stable for now. But he’s far from all right.”
Gemma’s hands shook. “We’ve been trying to help him. All of us. Caleb and I are both psychologists and Jackson runs Pathways.”
“Can we stay with him?” Caleb asked.
“Yes, of course. I can use Ms. Lancaster elsewhere. She’s a volunteer.”
Harlan moved restlessly on the bed but didn’t awaken.
* * *
Dr. Barry pulled two more chairs into the curtained off area. Caleb and Gemma sat on either side of the bed. Gemma reached out and touched Harlan’s shoulder. Jackson caught the doctor before they left. “I can’t tell you how grateful we are, Pax.”
“Of course. I know Pathways and the work you do there.”
“This is some set up.”
“The state’s shutting us down at the end of the month. No funding.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks.”
When Pax left, Caleb sighed. The inside was old but well kept. The lights were dimmable. And there wasn’t much noise back here. Jackson said, “It’s amazing they kept the place going for as long as they did.”
“Yeah,” Caleb agreed.
Jackson added, “I wonder if there’s anything we can do to help out.”
Gemma gave her first smile of the day. “If there is, I’m sure you’ll find it, Jackson.”
* * *
Harlan’s head was swimming but he stayed motionless and kept his eyes closed. Images came…the bus ride to Syracuse, him wandering around…an alley that smelled like garbage. The knife. He didn’t care. It’d be over soon. No more worry about his future, no more shame, no more disappointing people. I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…
* * *
Harlan slept for an hour, then he woke up. His eyes darted from one side to the other, then focused on Dr. Shepherd. “Where am I?” His voice came out scratchy.
Caleb grasped his hand, grateful that the boy regained consciousness. “You’re in a clinic in Syracuse.”
“How did I get here?”
“We don’t know, Harlan. We were hoping you’d tell us.”
He blinked, then lifted a wrist. “It didn’t work. I couldn’t even do this right.”
Caleb went on gut instinct. “You hit bottom, son. You aren’t alone. We’re here for you.”
The boy’s eyes were as bleak as a February dawn.
Gemma sniffed. There were tears in her eyes. “We’ll help you, Harlan.”
“You already tried to.” His expression was bleak. “Nothing’s changed.”
Jackson leaned over and squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll help you with that, too. You can stay at the Med Center at Pathways while you recuperate.”
His gaze transferred to Jackson. “What about the new boys comin’ in?”
“That’s not till next month. Let’s take this one day at a time.”
Once again, his gaze went to Caleb. “Would you still want me as a patient? After this?”
“Of course. I’d never abandon you.”
Gemma said, “Would you like us to leave so you can talk to Dr. Shepherd now?”
“No, that’s okay.” His eyelids drooped. “I’m tired.”
“Go ahead and sleep.” Caleb squeezed his shoulder. “We’re staying with you until we can bring you back to Westwood.”
Harlan nodded off.
Jackson stood. “I’m going to go talk to Dr. Barry about getting Harlan out of here safely.” He left the room.
Gemma looked over at Caleb. He wanted badly to console her and be consoled by her.
She said, “This makes our problems seem small.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Have you been okay?”
“Shaky over Harlan mostly. It didn’t help that Saul Jacobs came to see me.”
“The youth pastor? I thought he was in jail.”
“He said he was let go because there wasn’t enough evidence at the trial to convince the judge he was guilty.”
“Why did he come to see you?”
“He wanted my forgiveness for having an affair with Marlena. Apparently, they’re not together anymore.”
“Wow. That’s a lot to deal with. You must be conflicted over this.”
“Not as much as before. I guess I’ve healed some.” He angled his chin to Harlan. “But he takes precedence over that anyway.”
She gave him a comforting smile.
* * *
Pax Barry sat in his makeshift office, a utility closet in former days, filling out the new boy’s chart, though he didn’t know much about Harlan Ford.
He took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. It probably didn’t matter anyway as the files wouldn’t exist soon. Thank God that three angels of mercy had come to get him.
He knew all about Jackson Kane. Once, in a different life, he read the news and stayed current with the location he’d landed in. Even though Pathways was in Westwood, the place was a legend. Kane had worked miracles. Once, he was seen as a miracle worker. Not anymore. Pax understood Harlan Ford’s desperation. After all that went down, he himself almost didn’t make it.
“Am I interrupting?”
“No, come on in. It’s crowded but clear off that chair and stack the papers on the shelf.”
When Jackson sat, he said, “Do you keep this place running by yourself?”
“Ah, no. I have a skeleton crew.”
“How have you done it?”
“We’ve kept going even though it was hard. But the city makes these decisions. I fought them, but to no avail.”
“I’m sorry. What will you do?”
“I have no idea.” At least he had the money in his 401K plan. And savings, from when he’d been rich.
Jackson took out his card and handed it to Pax. “When you’re through here, give me a call. Maybe I can help you.”
Nobody can help me. “ Sure, I’ll do that.”
Jackson stood. “We’d like to take Harlan back to Westwood with us. We have a med center at Pathways to take care of him.”
“You’ll need to stay a couple of more hours. And then, an ambulance has to transport him. He’s still critical.”
Jackson stood. “I can arrange that.”
Pax remembered when he’d had that much power.
“I’ll come with you. I want to check to see if he’s well enough to travel, even by ambulance.”
“Of course.”
When they walked back into the cubicle Jackson asked, “He’s asleep again?”
Pax put in, “Probably the loss of blood is causing that.”
Jackson spoke to the very pretty woman and the man who waited with her. “Dr. Barry said we can take him home in a few hours. I’ll arrange for an ambulance. We’re going to get him back to Pathways’ Med Center and work with him.”