Chapter 14

 

 

When Chris finally regained consciousness he was weak, confused, and frightened.  It was Johnny’s voice that finally calmed Chris and enabled him to focus on the situation. An overwhelming feeling of exhaustion made it difficult for Chris to open his eyes more than halfway.

 

“What...whaz happ’ning? Sounds--bullets?”

 

Johnny bent over Chris so the young paramedic could see his face. 

 

“We’ve got ourselves in kind of a tough situation here, Chris, but we’ll be all right.”

 

“Wha’...wha’ happened?”

 

Chris panicked when he couldn’t move his head.  He raised his arms, his hands reaching for his neck.  Johnny grabbed the young man’s arms and laid them back against Chris’s side.

 

“Hold still, Chris.  Don’t move. You...you were shot, but you’re gonna be okay.”

 

Chris’s question was muffled by the oxygen mask.

 

“Sho-shot?”

 

“Yeah.  There’s some nut in that house with a gun. With a whole lotta guns.”

 

As bullets bounced off the street, Johnny flung himself over Chris once again.  When a reprieve took place, the paramedic cautiously raised to a crouched position.

 

Chris’s eyes flicked to the right and left, though because of the towel Johnny had secured around his neck, he couldn’t get a good view of the area.

 

“Co-cops?”

 

Sirens continued to wail as more police officers arrived.

 

“The cops are here,” Johnny confirmed. “They’ll have us on the way to Rampart in no time.”

 

Johnny continued to talk to Chris while pulling down the blanket and checking the bandage on his chest.  It was soaked with blood, just as Johnny surmised the one on Chris’s back was too.  The paramedic quickly attached another folded square of Chris’s turn-out coat to the bandage already covering his chest, then said, “I’m gonna have to roll you to the right, Chris, so I can take a look at your back. You let me do all the work, okay?”

“ ‘Kay-okay.”

 

Johnny cut the strips of duct tape he’d need and attached them to a bandage square before log rolling Chris. He wanted to make this as quick and painless as possible for the young man.  When Chris drew a ragged gasp of air, Johnny assured, “It’s okay.  You’re okay.  I’ll be done in a second.  Just hang on for me, Chris.  Hang on.”

 

After Johnny got the bandage secured, he rolled Chris to his back and covered him with the blanket again.  The oxygen mask was fogged up by Chris’s strained puffs for air; beads of clammy perspiration clung to his forehead. The paramedic chief’s attention was so narrowly focused now that the gunshots, flashing lights, and sirens didn’t exist for him. Johnny rose just high enough to grab another towel from a compartment, then crouched beside Chris and dabbed at the sweat on his brow.

 

“You’re gonna be okay, Chris. Just hang in there for me. You’re gonna be okay.”

 

Chris blinked heavily three times. “Ba...bad, huh?”

 

“Nah, just a scratch.”

 

Chris gave the man a lopsided half smile. “Doesn’t...doesn’t feel like a-a scratch.”

 

“You’ve lost some blood, but you’ll be okay.  I’m in touch with Rampart.  You’re gonna be fine until I can get ya’ there.”

 

Johnny continued to wipe at the perspiration breaking out on Chris’s face. He knew the young man was in shock, yet Johnny could tell Chris was trying to access his injuries.  Both of Chris’s arms moved beneath the blanket, and then his fingers and thumbs rose a few inches from the pavement. Chris’s brow furrowed next and his shoulders tensed as he tried to raise his upper body.

 

Johnny pressed the young man’s shoulders to the street.

 

“Chris, don’t do that.  Relax.  Just relax. You’re gonna be fine.”

 

Johnny saw nothing but panic when Chris’s eyes opened wide.  Before he had a chance to wonder what was going on, Chris panted, “Johnny...Uncle Johnny, I can’t...I can’t feel my legs.  I can’t...I can’t feel my legs, Uncle Johnny!”

 

That was the only time since Chris DeSoto had started his paramedic training with John Gage, that he’d referred to the man as “Uncle Johnny”.  “Uncle Johnny” had gone by the wayside during recent months, to be replaced by “Chief,” or “Chief Gage,” when Chris was in Johnny’s classroom, or just “Johnny” when they were riding together in a paramedic squad, or when they were away from the fire department and Chris ran across Johnny at his parents’ home, or stopped by Johnny’s ranch to shoot the bull.

 

“I can’t feel my legs, Uncle Johnny! I can’t--”

 

“Okay, okay,” Johnny soothed. “Calm down, Chris.  Calm down and I’ll check it out.”

 

Johnny remained by Chris’s head and shoulders until the young man gained control of his emotions. He patted Chris’s arm.

 

“I’m gonna see what’s goin’ on with you, okay?”

 

“O-okay,” Chris said with trepidation, as though he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know why he had no sense that his legs were still attached to his body.

 

Johnny carefully removed Chris’s right boot.

 

“Can you feel me taking this boot off?”

 

“N-no.”

 

Johnny removed the left boot next.

 

“How about this one?”

 

“No…no.  I can’t feel anything.”

 

“Okay.  Don’t get upset.  It’ll be all right. You’re gonna be all right.”

 

Even though a part of Chris was aware Johnny’s words were meant to keep him calm and nothing more, there was also a part of Chris that clung to what the man said.  If Uncle Johnny said he would be all right, then Chris believed him without question.

 

Johnny took Chris’s socks off, then grabbed a pen from the pocket of his turnout coat and ran the dull end over the sole of Chris’s right foot.

 

“Feel that?”

 

“I didn’t...didn’t feel anything.”

 

Johnny turned the pen around, so the pointed end was now running up Chris’s bare foot.

 

“How about this?”

 

“No.”

 

Johnny repeated his actions on Chris’s left foot. Chris’s responses remained the same. 

 

“I can’t...Uncle Johnny, I can’t feel anything!”

 

“Okay, Chris, okay. It’s all right.  Calm down, kiddo. Just calm down.” 

 

Johnny put his pen back in his pocket.  He picked up the sheers and slit the legs of Chris’s bunker pants to his upper thighs, then grabbed a thin sealed packet from the drug box.  He tore it open, and pulled out a sterile needle.

 

“Chris, I’ve got a needle here. Let me know if you feel anything.”

 

“All...all right.”

 

Johnny poked the needle in various places from Chris’s left ankle, all the way to his upper left thigh.  Each time he’d ask, “Can you feel that?” Chris would say, “No.”  By the time Johnny finished with Chris’s right let, Chris’s “No’s” had grown distant and disheartened.

 

Johnny hid his own heartache from Chris.  He put the needle in a disposable container, tossed it into the drug box, then moved to Chris’s head again.  The young man’s eyes sought out his mentor. Johnny had to strain to make out the soft, weak words over the sound of a man’s voice shouting through a bullhorn, and the crackle of radio transmissions coming from the squad cars lining the street.

 

“I-I can’t feel...Uncle Johnny, I can’t feel my legs.”

 

Johnny squeezed Chris’s shoulder.  “I know, Chris, but don’t jump to conclusions. We won’t know anything for certain until after the docs at Rampart have had a chance to look at you.”

“Do you...do you think...do you really think I might...that I might still...still be able to walk?  Still be able to…to be a para-paramedic?”

 

Chris DeSoto respected John Gage more that night because he told him the truth, rather than lying to him and giving him false hope.

 

“I...” Johnny paused and swallowed hard.  “I don’t know, Chris. I can’t make you any promises.”

 

Chris gazed at Johnny through half-open lids, then gave a slight nod.

 

“Than-thanks for bein’ hon-honest.”

 

Johnny’s “You’re welcome,” was soft and strained.

 

“Don-don’t.”

 

“Don’t what?”

 

“Bla-blame yourself.  Not...not your faul-fault.  Bad...bad call.  Juz...just a bad call.” Chris shot Johnny a weak smile. “Guess...guess I shoulda’...shoulda’ listened to Dad when he tole’ me...tole’ me to stay in school, huh?”

 

As the young man drifted off, Johnny closed his eyes and whispered, “Yeah, Chris.  Yeah, I guess you should have. I guess we both should have listened to your dad.”

 

For the remainder of the time Johnny and Chris were pinned behind the squad, Johnny tended to his patient. He let Brackett know that Chris had no sensation in his legs and feet, and provided the doctor with updated vital signs every ten minutes.  When Chris would regain consciousness for brief intervals, Johnny never failed to assure the young man that he was going to be all right, and that he – Johnny - would remain by Chris’s side until this ordeal was over.

 

At one point, Chris ordered,     “If...if they...the cops...if they can-can get you out...go. Go.”

 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere without you.”

 

“Uncle Johnny--”

 

“Chris, don’t argue with me. When I go, you go with me.”

 

“Dad...Dad always...always said you were stub-stubborn as a mule.”

 

“I am. And proud of it, too.”

 

That remark earned Johnny a lopsided smile before Chris lost consciousness again. 

 

Johnny didn’t know what transpired after the S.W.A.T. team arrived, but suddenly the front door of the dark house was rammed in, and men were shouting and running through the neighborhood. It wouldn’t be until Troy Anders interviewed Johnny, that the paramedic chief discovered the man who’d been shooting at him and Chris had somehow eluded the police and fled. Anders promised Johnny they’d catch the guy, but by then, Johnny’s only concern was that Chris survive surgery.

 

When the scene was secured, the paramedics from Squad 22 helped Johnny get Chris ready for transport. Because Chris’s blood pressure was rapidly dropping, it was as close to a “wrap and run” as possible.  Johnny rode in the ambulance with Chris, as did Clem Harding, 22’s senior paramedic.

 

Johnny and Clem worked together to keep Chris alive on that swift ride through city streets. Johnny was thankful the hour was early yet, meaning traffic was light and no one hindered the ambulance’s progress.

 

Chris surfaced to a semi-consciousness state when they were halfway to the hospital.  He was too weak to talk, and that same weak, lethargic feeling made it impossible for the paramedic to figure out where he was or what was happening. The only thing Chris was aware of with any certainty, were Johnny’s assurances that he’d be all right.

 

“You’re doin’ fine, Chris. You’re gonna be okay.  Everything’s gonna be all right. We’re on our way to Rampart now. You’re gonna be all right.”

 

Chris’s eyelids fluttered until he was able to open them far enough to focus on Johnny.  He tried to give the man a smile, but had no idea if his mouth moved at his brain’s distant command. The two things Chris’s foggy brain did absorb, was Johnny’s pasty features, and the fine tremor of his hands.  Chris wanted to say, “I’m okay, Uncle Johnny. I’ll be okay. It’s not your fault,” but talking was too much effort, and in a few seconds, Chris was unconscious once again.

 

Johnny had unloaded patients at Rampart with just as much urgency as he unloaded Chris DeSoto, but this was one of the few times he’d had such close personal ties with a patient. Johnny felt like it was someone else running beside the gurney holding Chris’s IV bags aloft and giving Brackett an update. He was on autopilot now, doing everything by habit, because to acknowledge that the young man on the stretcher was like a son to him was more than Johnny could handle.  So instead, now that Chris was in Brackett’s hands, it was easier to pretend Chris was just another patient.  That game of pretend was why Johnny was able to competently assist the team of doctors and nurses Kelly Brackett had assembled in Treatment Room 2, and why, after Chris was whisked to surgery, Johnny was able to calmly and thoroughly answer all of Troy Anders’ questions.

 

It wasn’t until eight o’clock that morning, when Johnny silently slipped into Rampart’s small chapel, that the facade of professionalism he’d kept in place ever since Chris had been shot began to crumble.

 

Although the room was empty, Johnny sat in the back pew on the right and slid all the way to the far end. During the three hours he remained there, a few people came and went – a gray headed man who knelt in front of the alter, made the sign of the cross, and used a rosary while reciting some prayers, a teenage girl and her mother, and two women in their mid-fifties, who seemed to be wrestling with a medical decision that had to be made regarding an elderly parent – but no one noticed the paramedic. 

 

The room was dimly lit by round, recessed ceiling lights and contained no windows. The majority of light was shining through a six-foot high white cross at the front of the chapel.  The cross was built into the wall a few feet above the small podium that held a lectern. Johnny hadn’t been aware that a minister actually held services here, though he did know Rampart had two volunteer chaplains. Based on what he was seeing, Johnny assumed services of some sort were held on Sundays, and maybe on certain holidays, but overall, it didn’t matter to him, because he wasn’t here to sit through a church service, and if one started, he’d get up and leave.

 

Johnny remained in the dark corner, willing his hands to stop shaking. He finally clasped them together in what some would say was a form of prayer. Johnny; however, had no conscious memory of praying for Chris DeSoto’s life while he sat in that quiet little chapel with his hands folded. Instead, he was assaulted with a jumble of images that ranged from the first day he’d met Roy, to the first time he’d been introduced to Roy’s wife and children. So many years had passed since then. Chris had been in kindergarten, and Jennifer was just three years old. Seven years after that first meeting, another child was added to the DeSoto family. A boy named after John Gage, which was a testament to all Johnny meant to not only Roy, but to Joanne, Chris, and Jennifer as well.

 

It was when Johnny thought of those years of friendship with the entire DeSoto family, that a tear trickled down his face. The last thing he wanted was for Roy and Joanne to have to bury their oldest son, or for Chris never to walk again. When he thought of those alternatives, either of which were strong possibilities, Johnny couldn’t help but feel that he’d let Roy down. That he hadn’t done what Roy asked of him six months earlier right here at Rampart. 

 

Johnny had been recovering from a back injury after having gotten caught under a collapsing circus tent. For several days prior to that incident, Roy was struggling to come to terms with Chris’s decision to drop out of college and join the fire department. Johnny was the person Chris coerced into breaking that news to Roy, which caused a temporary rift in Johnny and Roy’s friendship.

 

On the day Johnny was released from Rampart, Roy picked him up.  The paramedic recalled a portion of their conversation.

 

“And now I want you to make me a promise.”

 

“Anything,” Johnny had said, without inquiring first as to what type of promise Roy was going to extract from him.

 

“You took care of my youngest son for me yesterday, now I’m asking that you take care of my oldest son.  There are a lotta reasons why I’d rather see Chris go into almost any other line of work but ours, and first and foremost is because I don’t want to see him injured in the line of duty.  I worry about that a lot, Johnny. I know you won’t always be the person Chris reports to, but while you are...during the time period he’s training in the field with you, take care of him for me, okay?  Promise you’ll take care of him.”

 

“I promise, Roy. I won’t let anything happen to Chris. I promise I won’t.”

 

Now that promise haunted Johnny. He’d thought of it so many times during the hours since Chris had been shot.  He wished to God he’d never made it.  But how could he have refused to make it?  How could he have refused his best friend something that was a given?  Johnny would have laid down his life for Chris.  If there were any way he could go back and change what happened outside that dark house, he’d do so without giving it a second thought.  If there were any way it could be him on that operating table fighting for his life and his ability to walk again, then Johnny would make that happen.  Chris would still be healthy and whole, and Johnny...well, it didn’t make any difference what happened to him.  He wasn’t young like Chris, with his whole future ahead of him. He wasn’t married.  He had no children.  Why the hell couldn’t it have been him?  Why the hell did God let this happen to Chris?

 

Johnny was alone in the chapel when he clutched the lip of the pew in front of him and laid his forehead on its smoothed polished wood.

 

“Why?” he murmured. “Why Chris? Why damn it? Why couldn’t it have been me instead of him? Just tell me why.”

 

The paramedic’s head shot up when a hand rested on the back on his turnout coat.

 

“Johnny, don’t do this to yourself.” Dixie’s voice was soft and wrought with sympathy. “Don’t blame yourself.”

 

Johnny swiped at the moisture on his cheeks and stared at the floor. 

 

“Who do you want me to blame?”

 

“The man who was hiding in that house with a gun.”

 

“I was the one who told Roy he had to accept the fact that Chris dropped out of college.”

 

Dixie sat down next to the paramedic.  “And what does that have to do with what happened this morning?”

 

“If Chris had been in school, he wouldn’t have--”

 

“Chris is a grown man, Johnny. You had no control over the decisions he made, any more than Roy did.”

 

Johnny didn’t feel like debating with the nurse, because in the end, the facts would remain the same. Had Chris stayed in school, he wouldn’t have been on the call with Johnny, and he wouldn’t have been shot.  Rather than point any of that out to Dixie, Johnny questioned, “Chris?”

 

“He’s still in surgery.”

 

“Roy and Joanne?”

 

“They’re in the surgical floor waiting area. Jennifer and John are with them. Some of the guys who work for Roy are up there too, along with a few other people I don’t know, and a red headed young lady who seems really worried about Chris.”

 

Johnny smiled slightly. “Wendy Adams.”

 

“Chris’s girlfriend?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Dixie removed the lid from a large Styrofoam cup and handed the cup to Johnny.  That action forced him to look at her.

 

“Drink this.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Orange juice. And after it’s gone, I’ll buy you breakfast.”

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

“Johnny--” 

 

Johnny’s, “I’m not hungry, Dix!” came out louder and sharper than he intended for it to.  He took a deep breath.

 

“I’m sorry. I just...I don’t feel like eating right now.”

 

“Then at least drink the orange juice. I put ice cubes in it.  You look hot.”

 

“I’m okay.”

 

The paramedic saw the woman eyeing him with doubt. He knew his hair was matted to his head with perspiration, and since he hadn’t removed his turnout coat, he understood why Dixie was under the assumption that he was warm.  But he wasn’t warm. In fact, he felt cold despite the heat within his heavy boots, coat, and bunker pants.

 

“Johnny, why don’t you go to Kel’s office, take your coat and boots off, and stretch out on his couch. I know he won’t mind.  I’d like to have Mike take a look at you, then I think you’d better eat something and--”

 

“No.”

 

“Johnny--”

 

“Dix, I’m fine. I just wanna be alone for a while, okay?  I came in here to be alone.”

 

The woman waited. On the rare occasions Johnny had been short with her, he usually apologized within seconds of losing his temper. Today, however, he didn’t.  Today was different. Today Johnny’s soul was weighted with worry for his best friend’s son, which superseded everything else going on around him.

 

Dixie patted the paramedic’s knee. “I understand. I’m sorry I intruded.”

 

As the woman stood, Johnny grasped her hand and looked up at her.

 

“Dix...will you...will you come and tell me if anything changes with Chris? Please?”

 

Dixie nodded. “I will.”

 

“And thanks for the orange juice. And for...for caring.”

 

Dixie leaned forward and kissed the top of the paramedic’s head.  She’d known him for so long, thought of him as a lovable, pesky little brother for so long, that it seemed like a natural thing to do.  The show of affection was part maternal, party sisterly, and that’s the way Johnny accepted it.

 

The man shot Dixie a smile.  “Better not let Brackett find out you did that.”

 

Dixie frowned and tried to look stern.  “Just what is that supposed to mean?”

 

“That people aren’t nearly as good at keeping secrets around here as you might think.”

 

“Believe me, I’ve never thought that.”

 

Johnny’s smile faded almost as quickly as it had come. He turned and stared straight ahead at the altar.

 

“Johnny, when you’re ready to go upstairs, I know Roy and Joanne want you to wait with them.”

 

Johnny hesitated a moment, then nodded.  He wasn’t certain if Dixie was correct; however, he also wasn’t going to voice that to the nurse. What happened from here on out was between Johnny and the DeSoto family.  If things...if things went sour with Chris, and Roy and Joanne blamed Johnny for that, then Johnny didn’t want anyone interfering and trying to mend fences on his behalf.  Roy and Joanne had enough to deal with.  They didn’t need further stress as a result of people sticking their noses where they didn’t belong.

 

“I’ll...I’ll be up in a little while.”

 

“All right.”

 

Dixie stood over the man a few seconds longer, waiting to see if he’d drink the orange juice she’d handed him. He didn’t, so Dixie hoped that once she left he would. The paramedic was pale, shaky, and his face was covered with beads of clammy perspiration that he appeared to be oblivious to. Dixie was about to suggest again that Johnny lie down in Brackett’s office, when he requested in a weary voice, “Dix, go...go, please.  I’ll be okay. I just...I just need to be alone for a little while longer.”           

 

Although Dixie thought Johnny needed a friend by his side right then more than he needed to be alone, she respected his wishes and quietly left the chapel. 

 

When Johnny heard the double swinging doors softly plunk against each other, he put the lid back on the Styrofoam cup and set the cup on the floor beside his feet. He rested his head on the pew in front of him again, wondering how he’d face Roy and Joanne if Chris didn’t make it through surgery. 

 

Chapter 15

 

 

Johnny paused after stepping out of the elevator. He had a clear view of the waiting area where Roy’s family and friends were gathered around Kelly Brackett.  Since there were no visible signs of hysterical grief, and since Dixie hadn’t given Johnny any further updates on Chris’s condition after her visit to the chapel two hours earlier, the paramedic assumed Chris was still alive.  However, judging by the expressions Johnny could see on the faces of Wendy and Jennifer, the man knew Brackett was in the process of delivering bad news.

 

Johnny couldn’t think of any other situation that would find him wondering if he was welcome at Roy’s side. Through all their years of friendship, through all the ups and downs, Johnny had never questioned whether Roy would be receptive to his presence, or instead, tell him to go to hell.  In the past, when the going got rough, they’d always been there for one another without hesitation, no matter what disagreement they might have been having five minutes earlier.

 

But this was much larger than a disagreement about the purchase of a hot dog stand, or if they should go into the floor cleaning business together, or if Johnny was hearing things again when he insisted there was a mysterious rattling noise coming from the squad’s engine.  This was about Chris’s life, and what role Johnny had played in altering a promising future. 

 

The paramedic closed his eyes.  An observer might have concluded Johnny was gathering the strength he needed to face Roy DeSoto. On the other hand, when Johnny swayed to the right and threw a hand out for the wall, the observer might have concluded Johnny was gathering the strength he needed to stay on his feet.  In the end, both conclusions would have been correct.

 

Johnny fought to rise above the physical exhaustion that was so heavy his shoulders sagged beneath its weight, and shoved aside the emotional exhaustion that made him long for the oblivion a deep dreamless sleep would give him.

 

The paramedic finally opened his eyes, squared his shoulders, and headed down the corridor that seemed one hundred miles long. 

 

When Johnny was a few feet from the couch Roy and Joanne were seated on, he stopped.  He didn’t make eye contact with anyone, but instead, focused on the white floor tiles. He ignored John DeSoto when the boy shouted, “Come sit by me, Uncle Johnny!”

 

Johnny didn’t want to hurt the child’s feelings, but this wasn’t the time to force himself into the DeSoto family circle. The paramedic refused to take advantage of a six year old’s inability to understand the gravity of the situation, and why his parents might hold John Gage accountable for at least some of what Chris was suffering.           

 

The chief slipped his hands into the pockets of his bunker pants. He was hot now rather than cold; thirsty, and just light headed enough to wish he hadn’t tossed his orange juice into a garbage can without drinking any of it.  With his eyes on the floor, Johnny listened to what Brackett was saying. 

 

“I'm sorry, Roy. Joanne. If I could have done more, I would have. I promise you that.”

Random thoughts raced through Johnny’s mind.  Had Chris died on the operating table? Had the blood loss been too great for the surgeons to combat?  Had a bullet damaged a vital organ?

 

Roy’s voice pulled Johnny from his internal dialogue. Roy wanted to know what Brackett meant. Johnny’s eyes briefly flicked to the physician’s face before returning to the floor. If a person hadn’t known Kelly Brackett for as long as John Gage had, he might not see through the professional veneer to what was beneath the surface.  Sorrow, regret, sympathy, and a look that said Brackett wished it were anyone but himself who had to deliver this news to Roy. 

 

Johnny knew whatever was coming wouldn’t be good. His only hope now was that, when things calmed down, Roy would allow him to help in any way he could.

 

“The bullet damaged Chris's spine. We already know he's suffered paralysis to his lower extremities.”

 

Johnny heard the fear in Roy’s one word question.

           “Permanent?”

 

Then he heard the finality in Brackett’s brief, matter-of-fact answer.

            “Yes, Roy. It's permanent.”

 

Silence hung over the area, brought on by shock and a momentary inability to fully accept what the doctor had said.  The only one who didn’t have trouble accepting it was Johnny. Not that he wanted to accept it.  What he wanted to do was shout, “No! No, goddamn it, no! Not Chris! Not Chris, damn it!  Not Chris!” But shouting wouldn’t change the damage the bullet had done, and ever since Chris told Johnny that he couldn’t feel his legs, Johnny’d suspected that the news Brackett had just given Roy and Joanne would be the end result.

 

Because Johnny’s head remained bowed, he never saw Roy coming at him.  Even if he had seen the man charging him, Johnny wouldn’t have moved.  The paramedic kept his hands in his pockets.  He refused to defend himself, even as Roy shouted, “You bastard!” while grabbing the front of Johnny’s turnout coat with one fist, and landing a hard right against Johnny’s jaw with the other.

 

The beating continued with Roy raging hate-filled words.  Johnny wasn’t nearly as shocked by Roy’s behavior as everyone else seemed to be.  He heard the shouts from various voices for Roy to stop; yet the paramedic on the receiving end of Roy’s fists said nothing.  Roy’s actions and words told Johnny just how deep the father’s pain went.  Just how much blame Roy was putting on himself, too, for Chris’s decision to join the fire department. Despite Roy’s, “You did this to him, you bastard! It’s your fault my son will never live a normal life,” Johnny knew it wasn’t just John Gage whom Roy was blaming.  Roy was remembering the little boy who’d idolized his father, and imitated everything his dad did. Roy was remembering how much Chris loved to visit Station 51 when he was a kid, and how happy Roy always was when Joanne stopped by with Chris and Jennifer.  Roy wasn’t blaming just Johnny for Chris’s decision to leave college, but he was also wondering what more he could have done to keep his son focused on getting a degree, and then choosing a career in any field but firefighting.

 

In a distant, dreamy sort of way, Johnny found it interesting that he knew with so much clarity what Roy was feeling and thinking. No one else had figured it out, not even Joanne.  As blood gushed from Johnny’s nose, Joanne cried, “Roy, stop it! Please stop it!”  Even she didn’t understand the depths of her husband’s pain, or that he was shouldering a good portion of the blame for Chris’s injuries as well.        

 

Hands were pulling at Roy now. Johnny felt like a rag doll that a little kid was refusing to give up as he was jerked forward, then backwards, then forward again. Nonetheless, the only time Johnny wished Roy would stop was when he heard John’s terror filled screams.

 

“Daddy! Daddy, stop it!  Daddy, don’t! Stop! Stop it, Daddy!  You’re hurting Uncle Johnny!  Daddy, stop!”

 

Poor kid. He shouldn’t have to sit there and watch this.

 

Scuffling feet, rubber soles squeaking against tiles, and men’s shouts filled the air. Powerful tugs yanked Johnny forward as Roy was yanked backwards. Everything was growing dim and distant. Even the pain caused by Roy’s fists wasn’t nearly as sharp as it had been just seconds earlier.  As Roy’s hands were finally pulled loose from Johnny’s turnout coat, the paramedic wanted to tell someone that he needed to sit down, and he wanted to ask Dixie to get him another glass of orange juice, and he also wanted to tell her that maybe laying down on Brackett’s couch wasn’t such a bad idea after all, but before he got any of those words out, Johnny’s knees buckled.  As he sank toward the floor with black dots dancing in front of his eyes, Johnny was aware of hands thrusting forward to catch him.

 

Roy’s hands.  

 

That was one of the first memories Johnny had upon regaining consciousness in an ER trauma room twenty minutes later, but he didn’t allow it to give him false hope. Even years after the incident, Johnny wasn’t certain if Roy’s gesture was made from genuine concern for his safety, or simply reflex. 

 

Given the chance, Johnny would have asked Roy, but he wasn’t given the chance. Roy never came to see Johnny during the twenty-four hours he was hospitalized, nor did he attempt to contact the paramedic in the weeks that followed.

 

That gave Johnny a good indication of what the future held for his and Roy’s friendship, because as the old saying went, actions speak louder than words.

 

Chapter 16

 

It was Kelly Brackett who gave Johnny a ride home upon the paramedic chief’s release from Rampart the next afternoon.  At first, Johnny had been hesitant to accept the man’s offer. Although in a sense he’d worked for Brackett during his years as a paramedic in the field, and now worked with the doctor as chief paramedic instructor for the fire department, Johnny still looked upon the man as more of a superior than a peer.  He had an enormous amount of respect for Doctor Brackett, but the friendship they shared was on a professional level and based on their ties to the paramedic program, as opposed to being based on things they had in common.  They didn’t go to ball games together. They didn’t go fishing together. And they didn’t normally have a reason to offer one another a ride home. 

 

Johnny cast about for someone to call while Brackett waited for him to get dressed. There were plenty of men he considered to be friends, but they all worked for the fire department. By now, over twenty-four hours after the shooting, they’d all undoubtedly heard what happened.  Because Johnny had no desire to answer questions about the incident, he decided accepting a ride from Brackett was probably the best alternative.

 

“As long as I’m not putting you out,” Johnny finally said while dressing in the clothes Dixie had brought him before she’d gone on-duty that morning.

 

Dixie had left Rampart the previous afternoon with Johnny’s key ring in her pocket, and with his permission to go to his ranch and get a change of clothes for him so he had something to wear home other than his bloody turnouts and heavy boots. As Johnny dressed, he tried not to dwell on the fact that these types of favors – retrieving clean clothing for him, and then giving him a ride home when he was released from the hospital – were all things he’d been able to count on the DeSotos for over the years.

 

Brackett’s voice interrupted Johnny’s thoughts.

 

“You’re not putting me out.”

 

Johnny didn’t argue with the man, though he was well aware Brackett would have a two hour round trip by the time the doctor drove him to his ranch, then returned to his own home.

 

Johnny finished buttoning the denim shirt Dixie had taken out of his closet, then tucked his shirttails into the waistband of his blue jeans before bending to tie his tennis shoes. He grabbed the sturdy shopping bag Dix brought for his turnout coat, bunker pants, and boots.  Johnny shoved those items into the bag and picked it up by the handles.  He followed Brackett into the corridor.  It wasn’t until they were in the elevator and away from anyone who could overhear them, that Johnny asked quietly, “How’s Chris doin’?”

 

“He’s critical, but he remained stable throughout the night. He’s got youth on his side, Johnny.”

 

Johnny nodded. Life could be such a mocking bitch.  It was Chris’s young age that might help him survive this ordeal and yet, at such a young age, his ability to walk had been taken from him.

 

“Do you want to see him before we leave? He won’t know you’re there, but we can stop in for a minute.”

 

Johnny shot the doctor a sideways glance. Given the bruises on his face from Roy’s fists, Johnny thought that was the most asinine question he’d ever been asked.  He’d be about as welcome in Chris’s room at this moment as a rat carrying the bubonic plague. Though when Johnny took the time to mull the physician’s question over, he realized Brackett probably had no clue that Roy’s anger went far deeper than a brief, crazed moment when an upset father was looking for someone to blame for his son’s injuries.  Because Roy’s friendship with Kelly Brackett was just as much on a professional level as Johnny’s was, Brackett had no insight into how much Chris’s decision to drop out of college had upset Roy, and how ticked off Roy was upon discovering Chris confided in Johnny about it long before Chris discussed it with his dad.

 

“I’ll...I’ll wait a few days.  Let things...calm down some.”

 

Brackett must have decided there was wisdom to those words, or maybe he didn’t want to have to patch Johnny up again should Roy give a repeat performance of the previous day’s beating.

 

“That sounds like a good idea. Besides, you need to get home and rest.”

 

“I’ve been resting.”

 

“No one ever rests in a hospital.”

 

“Then why’d you keep me here overnight?”

 

“Because I’m not in the habit of sending someone home who looks like he’d pass out before he made it through his front door.”

 

Had Johnny been in the mood for humor, he could have bantered with the doctor on this issue all the way to his ranch.  But he wasn’t in the mood for humor, and the hour-long ride was a quiet one.  Brackett made a couple of attempts at small talk that didn’t progress far.  Johnny gave him one-word answers before turning to stare out of the passenger side window again, effectively preventing any further conversation.

 

After Brackett pulled his car into Johnny’s driveway, he said, “I can take you to get your Land Rover tomorrow if you need me to.”

 

Johnny’s truck was parked in Station 36’s lot, as was Chris’s vehicle.

 

“Thanks, but I can get my neighbor to give me a ride there.”

 

“The guy who takes care of your horses when you’re on duty?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

Johnny’s Malamute, Joe, had recognized his master in the strange car, and was now barking at the passenger side door. Johnny commanded, “Sit,” through the open window. The dog did as his master instructed, and then quit barking when the next command was, “Quiet, Joe.”

 

The paramedic reached for the door handle.

 

“Thanks for the ride, Doc.”

 

“You’re welcome. Before you get out, I have a message from Jennifer.”

 

“Jennifer?”

 

“She wanted me to tell you that she and Joanne came to see you yesterday afternoon in the ER.”

 

When Johnny didn’t do anything but stare out the windshield, Brackett asked, “Johnny?  Did you hear what I said?  Jennifer wanted--”

 

“Yeah...yeah, I heard you. Thanks for lettin’ me know.”           

“And Joanne wanted me to contact her if you needed a ride home today.”

 

“And Roy?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Did Roy want you to call?”

 

“I...that I don’t know. Roy wasn’t with them.”

 

Brackett’s answer didn’t surprise Johnny. He grabbed the shopping bag he’d set between his feet and opened the car door. Before the paramedic could climb out of the vehicle, the doctor spoke again.

 

“Johnny, give Roy a few days. He’ll come around.  I’ve seen parents react like he did more times than I can count.  You were nothing more than a convenient target.  He doesn’t really blame you, and you can’t blame yourself. You did all you could for Chris. None of this was your fault.”

 

Johnny turned and looked at the man.  “In all the years you’ve been a doctor, have you ever had an angry father blame you for something that wasn’t your fault? Blame you for something that happened to his son, even though you did all you could for the boy?”

 

Brackett gave a slow nod.  “I’ve experienced that a few times.”

 

“It caused you to stop and think, didn’t it.”

 

“Think about what?”

 

“What you would have done differently if you’d only known the outcome.  What you would have done if you had the opportunity to go back and relive the moment when things started to go wrong.”

 

“Yes,” Brackett admitted, “but after I got past the heated emotions an incident like that causes, I always had confidence that I’d done my best. Done all I possibly could for the patient. You have no reason not to have that same level of confidence where this situation is concerned.”

 

The paramedic shrugged.

 

“Maybe I would if it had been any other trainee with me but Chris.”

 

“How does that make it different?”

 

“He’s my best friend’s son.  That’s how it makes it different.”

 

Before Brackett could respond, Johnny said, “Thanks again for the ride,” grabbed the shopping bag, climbed out of the car, and shut the door.

 

Johnny bent to pet his dog, then straightened. “Come on, Joe.”

 

As Johnny headed for the house with the Malamute at his heels, he was aware of Brackett’s car idling in the driveway.  It wasn’t until the paramedic had entered his home that the doctor finally left.

 

Johnny sat the shopping bag by the door.  He shuffled to the kitchen table, finally giving in to his weariness as he pulled out a chair and sagged to its seat.  Johnny hadn’t wanted Brackett to know that he was just as exhausted as he had been when the doctor hospitalized him, and that a feeling of overwhelming depression seemed to have taken all the light from his world.

 

With Joe sitting at his side, Johnny rested his elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands.  A part of him knew Brackett was correct. He’d done the best he could for Chris.  He couldn’t have given the young man more in the way of medical care than he had. But the part of him that reminded the paramedic he was Roy DeSoto’s best friend was the part that contained all the doubts and regrets.

 

If I could just turn back the clock. If only I’d let Chris drive, then I would have been the one who got out on the passenger side. 

 

If I could go back to the first time Chris told me he wanted to be a paramedic.  To the first time he made me promise not to share that news with Roy.  If I’d only known what was gonna happen, I never would’ve tried to make Roy accept Chris’s decision to drop out of college.  I never would’ve been so accepting of Chris’s decision myself. I woulda’ told him there was no way he should leave school.  I wouldn’t have been the friend he could confide in. Instead, I woulda’ been the guy kickin’ his butt all the way back to class.

 

Then other doubts crept in.

 

Would Chris have lost the use of his legs if I hadn’t moved him?  Was he paralyzed from the time the first bullet struck, or did I cause the bullet to move when I dragged him around the side of the squad?

 

At the moment it seemed like an insignificant fact that, had Johnny not moved Chris to safety, the gunman would have killed the young man before the night was over.

 

The paramedic paid no attention to the passing time. It had been years since he’d felt this adrift, this alone, and this depth of sorrow.  Not since Kim and Jessie died.  In many ways, the DeSotos had become Johnny’s family in the years since he’d move to L.A., and now gut instinct told him that bond was broken.  Maybe things would be okay between Johnny and Roy after a few days passed, as Brackett had said, but Johnny didn’t think so.  He didn’t think anything would ever be the same between them again.

 

Johnny finally stood and headed for the barn with Joe following him.  Later that evening, he picked up the phone five times before working up the nerve to dial Roy’s house. He didn’t want to make things harder on the DeSoto family if a phone call from him wasn’t welcome, yet he wanted Roy and Joanne to know he cared, and that if they needed his help for anything from babysitting for John, to mowing the grass, all they had to do was ask. 

 

Based on what Brackett had said about Jennifer and Joanne, Johnny assumed they’d be at least somewhat receptive to hearing from him.  As he listened to the phone ring, he hoped one of them answered. If he talked to either of them first, he’d be able to determine if Roy was willing to speak with him.    

 

 On the sixth ring the line was connected, but the answering machine clicked on.  The paramedic listened to John’s voice.

 

“Hi, this is where the DeSotos live. My dad’s busy puttin’ out a fire, Chris is busy savin’ someone’s life, Mom’s busy keepin’ me outta trouble, and if you got this machine, that means Jennifer isn’t on the phone for a change.  Tell us who you wanna talk to, and someone in this family will call you back.”

 

Johnny gave a slight smile at the message he’d helped John record a few weeks earlier.  He waited for the beep, hesitated a few long seconds, but then hung up without saying anything.

 

The paramedic went to bed shortly after that.  It was the first night of many where Johnny’s sleep was haunted by dreams of the shooting that caused him to wake up wondering what more he could have done for his best friend’s son, and wishing he’d been the one to take the bullet in the back instead of Chris DeSoto.

 

 

Chapter 17

 

I left Johnny alone while I made supper. I’d found a package of thawed ground beef in the refrigerator. Since I’d never heard of a kid who didn’t like Sloppy Joes, and since I knew Johnny liked them, I decided that was a safe meal to settle on.  Johnny was already mad enough at me. I didn’t want to make him madder by fixing something for supper he wouldn’t eat.  Although if there is a food Johnny won’t eat, especially when someone other than himself is cooking it, I can’t think of what it is.

 

It took time to locate everything I needed for the Sloppy Joes, then to find the cabinets and drawer where plates, glasses, and silverware were located. The fact that I didn’t know where to find things in Johnny’s kitchen wasn’t a bad thing.  At least not considering the circumstances.  It gave me something to do while Johnny...well, while he sat in his office cussing me out, or throwing things, or stomping around in circles, or brooding, or whatever it was he was doing to let off steam.  I figured I was smart to stay out of his line of fire until he’d cooled down a bit.  

 

 I set the table while our supper simmered on the stove. I searched for hamburger buns but didn’t come across any, though I did find a cabinet filled with canned vegetables.  I grabbed a can of corn since corn’s a popular choice with kids, although I’d never known Trevor to be a picky eater. He takes after his father where his appetite is concerned. But since it was my first night taking Clarice’s place – in a manner of speaking – I wanted things to go smoothly.

 

Supper was ready at quarter to five. I turned the oven on ‘warm’ and set the pans inside. I stood in the kitchen for a few minutes, waiting for Johnny. I assumed he knew Trevor had to be picked up at five-thirty, since it was noted on the calendar in Johnny’s handwriting. Because of his recent health problems, I surmised the reminder had been written back when basketball season started in mid-November, but it was in thick black marker and impossible to miss if you went anywhere near the refrigerator.

 

I watched as the clock’s hands indicated it was now five, and still I couldn’t hear movement coming from the office. It doesn’t take more than ten minutes to drive to the grade school from Johnny’s home, but the snow would add time to the trip. Given Johnny’s physical limitations, it would also take him longer to get his coat and boots on than it had in the past. I didn’t think Trevor would head for home on foot in the middle of a storm if he thought someone had forgotten to pick him up, but I didn’t want to take that chance either. That’s another way Trev is like his father. Or at least like Johnny in his younger years. Trevor’s impulsive and doesn’t fear much of anything – or at least he never lets his fear rule him. How many eight year olds have the guts to stow away on a plane, fly to a city they’ve never been to before, and launch their own search for their father? If Trevor would do that, I had no doubt he’d trudge several miles through a snowstorm after dark if he thought he had good reason to.

 

I kept an eye on the clock, giving Johnny five more minutes. When those five minutes passed and he hadn’t appeared; I headed for his office. I paused outside the closed door, listening. He has a radio/CD player in there sitting on a bookshelf, along with a portable T.V. set. I didn’t hear any sound – not from the radio or the television, nor sound that indicated Johnny was moving around the room, or using the computer.  I glanced down. No light was spilling from beneath the door. I suddenly had a vision of Johnny sprawled on the floor because of an aneurysm the doctors hadn’t detected.

 

How could you have been so stupid, Roy? You came here to make sure he was okay, not to leave him alone for two hours just because he stomped off in a huff. You should have checked on him. You should have...

 

I knocked on the door.

 

“Johnny!” I called in a calm voice, despite what I’d just been thinking. “Johnny, you okay?”

 

When he didn’t answer, I knocked again.  The room had originally been the home’s master bedroom and included its own bathroom.  I didn’t want to walk in on Johnny if he was in there. If I’d thought my presence wasn’t welcomed two hours earlier, I could just imagine Johnny’s reaction if I crossed this last boundary of privacy.  I was pretty sure I’d find myself planted head first in a snow bank, and then hitchhiking back to Carson.

 

I pounded on the door three times with my fist so he’d hear me if he was in the bathroom. 

 

“Johnny! Hey, Johnny!”

 

When I still didn’t get an answer, I had no choice but to open the door. The room was dark. My right hand slid up and down the wall in search of the light switch. I found it and flipped it on.

 

Johnny was sitting behind his desk. He’d started to turn around when I entered the room. From the way the chair was angled I knew he’d been staring out of the French doors. He blinked at the bright overhead light, looking like an angry owl who’d had his solitude disturbed.

 

“Uh...sorry to bother you, but it’s after five.”

 

He arched an eyebrow and shrugged. The look on his face plainly said, “So what?”

 

“Trevor needs to be picked up at five-thirty.”

 

His expression changed.  The emotions were fleeting, but I saw upset, disappointment, and then anger.  The upset and disappointment were directed at himself for the faulty memory that caused him to forget his son needed a ride home.  The anger, which wasn’t fleeting, but instead caused the corners of his mouth to turn down and his eyes to narrow to a squint, was directed at me. I wasn’t sure if he was mad because I’d entered the room without his permission, or because I’d had to remind him Trev needed a ride, or if he was just mad in general because I’d shown up on his doorstep after he’d told Carl he didn’t want me to come.

 

“Look...I know you don’t want me here, but--”

 

“En-en go.”

 

My voice was quiet but firm.  “No, I’m not going.  Or at least not anywhere except to the school to get Trevor.” I smiled, hoping he’d take that as a peace offering. “Now come on. Let’s go pick up your son.”

 

The negative shake of his head surprised me. Johnny has a close relationship with Trevor.  I thought he’d be eager to go with me considering he hadn’t seen Trev since early that morning.

 

“Don’t worry. Supper’s ready.  There’s nothing you need to do here.”

 

His scowl deepened, his glare growing darker.

 

“Um...I didn’t mean--”

 

“Know...know wha-wha you me. You...li-li ev one...you t-t-tin I ca-ca’t ta’ car me...mesel’ and me so--son.”

 

“You’re wrong.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes you are. At least where I’m concerned. I do think you can take care of yourself and your son. It’s just that right now, you need some help.”

 

“Did-did as you...as you ‘el.”

           

“Friends don’t have to ask for help. Sometimes help’s just a given, don’t cha’ think?”

 

Johnny didn’t immediately respond. When he did finally speak, I couldn’t understand what he said.

 

“Why...why ca-ca’sh my?”

 

I tried to decipher the words by putting them in context to what I’d asked about help between friends being a given.  The trouble was, the only appropriate response to my question would have been a simple yes or no. 

 

“I’m sorry, Johnny. I’m not sure what you said. Can you repeat it?”

 

His jaw muscles worked in exaggerated fashion as he tried to enunciate each word.

 

“Why...why ca-ca-sh my?”

 

I understood “why” and “my,” but the closest I could come to determining the other sound he was making was “cash.”  And even the “why” and “my” was iffy, since he could have been pronouncing words wrong, and simply making the sounds necessary for why and my.

 

“Cash? Are you talking about money? If you need me to take you to the bank, we can do that tomorrow.”

 

Disappointment blanketed his features, softening the scowl and causing the glare to recede as his eyes settled on the floor as though he was too embarrassed to look at me. Since my arrival just two short hours earlier, my success at understanding Johnny had caused him to think I was the one person who would always be able to comprehend anything he said.  Admittedly, I’d foolishly thought the same thing.

 

I walked toward the desk.

 

“Why don’t you write it down for me,” I suggested in a tone that I hoped broadcast support and patience. “Do you have paper and a pen in one of these draw--”

 

“Go.”

 

“But--”

 

He looked up. The embarrassment was gone. Once again, anger dominated his features. 

 

“Go-go gee Tev-Tevor. Go!”

 

I decided the best thing I could do for both of us was drop the issue of the misunderstood sentence.

 

“Yeah, we’d better get going.”

 

“You.”

 

“Me? Without you?”

 

“Ye-yes.”

 

“You’re not riding along?”

 

He shook his head and turned to look out of the French doors again.

 

“Johnny--”

 

“Ju-juz go, ‘oy.  Juz-juz go.”

 

I stood there for a few seconds but he didn’t turn around, nor indicate in any way that he’d change his mind. I glanced at the fire engine clock Joanne and I had given him for Christmas. 

 

“I...I guess I’d better getting going then.”

 

Johnny’s nod was barely perceptible.

 

“Sure you don’t wanna come with me?”

 

He shook his head no.

 

I sighed.  “All right then. I’ll be back in a little while.”

 

Johnny didn’t respond. He stayed in his office while I went to the laundry room and put on my coat, hat, boots, and gloves. I locked the door behind me and stepped out onto the deck.  I bent my head against the wind and slogged through snow to the garage.  I opened the service door, and fumbled around until I found the light switch. 

 

The Land Rover was parked in the middle of the concrete floor.  I slipped behind the wheel, reaching for the garage door opener clipped to the visor. I could hear Nicolai and Tasha – Johnny’s Malamutes - barking.   I didn’t see them, and after a few seconds realized they were locked in the barn.

 

I hit the button on the opener and started the Rover. I backed out into the storm, then hit the opener’s button again and watched to make certain the door closed.

 

I fumbled around until I found the switch for the lights. I turned them on, put the truck in drive, and headed toward the road.  As the vehicle passed by the house, its headlights swept over Johnny. He was still seated in his office staring out of the big glass doors. He didn’t seem to notice the Land Rover. Even with the storm raging and the distance that separated us, I got the impression his thoughts were on another time and place. 

 

That made me wonder what I’d interrupted when I’d knocked on the door. But then the need to concentrate on my driving, and figure out where the switches were for the windshield wipers and the heater, caused me to set aside the concerns I had for Johnny, and the questions I had about the far away look I’d just seen on his face.

 

 

Chapter 18

 

Johnny stared at the wind driven snow pelting the French doors. He refused to acknowledge the departing Land Rover by tracking its progress with his eyes, or by walking to the great room and watching it through the front window. It should have been him driving, not Roy.  He should be the person heading out in a blizzard to pick up Trevor.

 

It wasn’t that Johnny didn’t trust Roy to get Trevor home safely, even though Roy rarely drove in snow. It was just that Trevor was his son, not Roy’s.  From the day Trev had been born, Johnny had seen to his needs.  Yes, Clarice helped out, but it was Johnny who made the final decisions where Trevor’s well being was concerned, and Johnny who fielded the requests of, “Papa, can I go to Juneau with Jake and his parents on Saturday?” or “Pops, can Dylan and Dalton come over after school tomorrow?” and Johnny who kept track of where his son was, what he was doing, who he was with, and what time he needed to be home.  A lot of men in Johnny’s situation would have turned those responsibilities over to whomever it was that watched the kids while the father was at work, but not Johnny.  He had no concerns about Clarice’s judgment; nonetheless, he’d decided long ago that when Trevor looked back on his growing up years, he’d always say that his father had raised him, as opposed to saying their housekeeper had done that job.

 

Now someone else was doing what Johnny saw as his responsibility – probably the most cherished and important responsibility he had - and that only made him angrier with himself for failing Trevor, and angry with everyone who was interfering, including Roy.  Most especially Roy, now that Johnny gave it some thought.

 

Roy, of all people, should know to respect boundaries, because twenty-one years ago he’d erected more than a few of his own with Johnny where Chris was concerned.  Where his entire family was concerned.  Ultimately, those boundaries had driven Johnny from California.  As odd as it might seem to some, Johnny didn’t blame Roy for that.  He never had. At the time it seemed like just punishment, and then after Trevor was born, Johnny even better understood how fiercely protective a father is, and how you can’t put into words the enormous love you feel for your child from the moment the squalling newborn is placed in your arms. The last thing you want is for anything to happen to that child, regardless of whether he’s an infant, a toddler, a young boy, a teenager, or a grown man.

 

Sometimes, that desire for safety and good health even extends to your best friend’s children, which was why Johnny still felt like he’d failed a son of his own whenever he saw Chris DeSoto sitting in his wheelchair.

 

 

Chapter 19

 

Her hand on his bare arm was warm and comforting, in complete contrast to the regret and sadness in her eyes.

 

“Johnny, I’m sorry.  I’m just...I’m really sorry.”

 

Johnny briefly covered her hand with his own, then slipped his arm from beneath her light grasp. 

 

“It’s not your fault, Jo.”

 

“I thought I could talk some sense into him.  I thought if he had time to think things over without any pressure, he’d finally realize he’s being a horse’s ass.”

 

Johnny laughed.  An odd sound to hear for both himself and his visitor, considering reasons to laugh these days were hard to come by.

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

“You.”

 

“Why?”

 

“ ‘Cause when I think back to the first time I met you, I never woulda’ guessed that someday you’d be sittin’ at my kitchen table calling your husband a horse’s behind.”

 

Joanne smiled at the way Johnny still couldn’t use off-color language in front of her, even after all the years they’d known each another, and even after she’d used it first.

 

“Why? Because I was a young wife with a bad case of hero worship for her husband back then? Or because I thought you had all the maturity of a fifteen year old, along with an ego the size of the Grand Canyon.”

 

“And don’t forget about telling Roy that you had about as much use for me as you did a leaky bucket.”

 

Joanne chuckled. Too many years of friendship had passed between herself and John Gage for the woman to remember any longer if she had been the one who’d eventually told Johnny of her initial dislike of him, or if Roy had.

 

Joanne fingered the condensation on the glass setting in front of her.  “There’s that too.”

 

Johnny pointed to the glass that held three half-melted ice cubes.  “You want another Coke? Or I can get you something else. Water? Juice?”

 

“No thanks.  I’m fine.”

 

“Sure?”

 

“I’m sure. Or at least where cold drinks are concerned I’m fine.”

 

Johnny’s puzzlement was plain to read.

 

“I’m not fine where this thing between you and Roy is concerned.”

 

“I’m not fine with it either, Jo, but I don’t know what else to do about it. I tried ta’ apologize to Roy – ta’ talk to him - two weeks ago, and he turned his back on me.”

 

“When was this?”

 

“After a department meeting.  I caught up to him in the parking lot.  I was hopin’ he’d be willing to come back here and talk to me, or let me take him to lunch or something.”

 

“Back here” was Johnny’s ranch.  Joanne had arrived at two o’clock that afternoon without letting Johnny know she was coming.  It was the first time since Chris had been shot a month earlier, that they’d seen or spoken to one another. On Johnny’s part, the silence was a result of his assumption that, for all concerned, it was best if he had no contact with the DeSoto family. On Joanne’s part, the silence was a result of her waiting to see if her husband would change his mind regarding the declaration Roy had made to her and Jennifer two days after Chris was shot.

 

“I don’t want to hear John Gage’s name spoken in this house again.”

 

“But, Dad--”

 

“Oh, Roy, for heaven’s sake--”

 

“I mean it.  And I don’t want anyone having contact with him, either.”

 

“But that’s not fair!” Jennifer had protested. “Just because you don’t wanna see Uncle Johnny doesn’t mean the rest of us feel the same way.”

 

“Well the rest of you should.”

 

“Dad, come on!  You’re being ridiculous.”

 

“You wanna see how ridiculous I can be when you’re grounded for the rest of the summer?”

 

“Dad! Now you’re being just plain stup--”

 

Before Jennifer said something that caused her more trouble than she wanted, or than any of them needed at that moment, Joanne stepped in.

 

“Jen, go and make sure John’s still playing in the back yard.”

 

Jennifer looked out the patio doors. “He is. I can see him from here.”

 

“Go make sure.”

 

“But--”

 

Joanne jerked her head toward the glass doors. “Jennifer, do as I asked, please.”

 

Jennifer must have realized her mother was giving her time to cool off before she ended up spending the remainder of the summer in her room.   The teenager got off one last parting shot before she threw back the screen door and stomped outside.

 

“You’re not being fair, Dad. You’re not being fair to any of us.”

 

Joanne walked over and slid the screen door shut, then slid the glass door shut, too, so the children couldn’t hear what was being said.  She crossed her arms over her chest as she turned and glared at her husband.

 

“She’s right, you know. You’re not being fair.”

 

“She’ll understand when she’s older.  When the day comes that she realizes how much Chris’s life has changed.”

 

“She’s not a little girl any more, Roy. She already realizes that Chris’s life has changed.”

 

“She doesn’t act like it.”

 

“Why? Because unlike you, she doesn’t blame Johnny for it?”

 

“Yeah.”  Roy turned his back on Joanne. “Yeah, something like that.”

 

“John Gage has been a friend to this entire family for a lot of years now.  We named our youngest child after him.  Have you forgotten that?”

           

“No, I haven’t, and now I wish we hadn’t.”

 

“Well we did, and with good reason.”

 

“Good reason at the time.”

 

“No, Roy, not just at the time.  Johnny saved Jennifer’s life.  He risked his own life to keep both her and Chris safe that night. Nothing has changed that fact.”

 

“I guess you’re right. Nothing has.  But things have changed, Joanne.  Things between me and Johnny.  You know the reasons why. I shouldn’t have to rehash them again and again.  We’ve talked about this enough over the past couple of days.”

 

“We have,” Joanne agreed, “but I think we need to talk about it some more.”

 

Roy finally turned to face his wife once again. “Don’t interfere, Jo.  That’s all I’m asking.  Don’t interfere. Don’t try to make things better.”

 

“Between you and Johnny, you mean.”

 

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

 

“Okay, if that’s the way you want it, then I won’t.  But I don’t see why you have to drag the whole family into this.  If I still want to have contact with Johnny, or if the kids do, then--”

 

Roy’s words were harsh, yet Joanne detected his underlying hurt and sense of betrayal.

 

“You’re going to choose Johnny over me, is that it?  Your oldest son will never walk again because John Gage didn’t come to me when I might have had a chance at talking Chris into staying in college, and you’re gonna side with him?”

 

“I’m not siding with anybody.”

 

“From where I’m standing it sure looks like you are.”

 

“Don’t you think Johnny is hurting, too? Don’t you think he feels everything we’re feeling at this moment?”

 

“No I don’t, because he’s not Chris’s father, Joanne! He’s not Chris’s father!”

 

Roy’s fury was evident by his red face and shouts, but his pain was also evident.  Tears filled his eyes. The first Joanne had seen since this nightmare began.

 

“He’s not Chris’s father, dammit.” Roy took a ragged breath. His voice dropped so low that Joanne could barely hear him. “He doesn’t know how it feels because he’s not Chris’s dad. He’s not Chris’s dad. I am.”

 

Joanne held her arms out to her husband. Roy stepped into her embrace and clung to her in a way that indicated he finally needed someone to be strong for him, instead of him bearing that burden for the rest of the family.  His head burrowed into the crook between her shoulder and her neck.  It was then that Joanne decided to drop the subject of John Gage, and hope that with time, Roy would see the last thing he wanted to do was toss aside thirteen years of friendship.  That for the sake of his own emotional wellbeing he needed Johnny more now than he ever had. 

 

So far though, Roy hadn’t come to that conclusion, which was what finally brought Joanne to John Gage’s doorstep.  Roy was on-duty, Jennifer was at work, Chris was in a physical therapy session at the rehab center he’d been moved to three days earlier, and John was at a birthday party.  All four of those factors gave Joanne just the opportunity she needed to slip away for a few hours without anyone wondering where she was.

 

“Did Roy say anything to you that day?”

 

“Of the meeting?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Uh huh. He just walked away from me. There were other guys headed to their cars, so I didn’t wanna push it with Roy and end up giving them something to gossip about. I’m sure most of ‘em noticed that when Roy came into the meeting he sat across the room from me.  Just that alone woulda’ given them a clue something was up.”

 

Joanne nodded. She didn’t have to ask in order to know Johnny meant he and Roy always sat together at department meetings, and had since the day they’d met.  Of course the other men would notice.  Johnny and Roy’s partnership had lasted longer than any other amongst the paramedic teams.  Their tight friendship was common knowledge. Joanne had little doubt that their co-workers had easily guessed things weren’t good between the two men, and had also easily guessed the reason behind the rift.  By the time that meeting took place, there wasn’t a man or woman within the fire department who didn’t know what had happened to Chris. It was also safe to assume that many of them had heard how Roy attacked Johnny at Rampart, and what Roy had shouted during that altercation. Even given the loyalty Roy’s crew had for him, Joanne knew all it would have taken was for one of the men who’d witnessed the beating to tell someone else, who then told someone else, who then told someone else, and so on. Roy and Johnny’s long-standing friendship was too well known for their falling-out not to be big news within the department.

 

Without giving it conscious thought, Joanne mumbled, “I wish I knew how to make things better.”

 

“Believe me, Jo, I wish I did, too.”

 

The woman’s gaze moved from her glass to her husband’s best friend.  Well...maybe ‘former’ best friend was the appropriate way to think of Johnny now, though it broke Joanne’s heart to do so.

 

“I’ve...I’ve lost a lotta sleep thinking things through,” Johnny confessed.

 

“I’m sure you have, because so have I.”

 

Johnny gave the woman a soft smile of thanks. Although he’d been fairly certain Joanne harbored no ill-will against him based on what he’d learned the day Kelly Brackett gave him a ride home, it wasn’t until Jo had shown up on his doorstep today and given him a firm hug before even saying hello, that he’d known for sure how she felt. 

 

“I...for as much as I wanna talk to Roy, Jo...to try and work this out between us, I keep...I keep reliving that night and everything that came before it, and end up feeling like Roy’s right.  Like if I was in his place, I’d feel the same way about someone who let my son get shot.”

 

“You didn’t let Chris get shot. You did everything you could for him that night.  I know it, you know it, and deep inside somewhere, Roy knows it, even if he can’t bring himself to acknowledge that fact yet.  He...I’m not making excuses for him, Johnny, but he’s really hurting right now.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Chris is his oldest child. His oldest son.  It’s an old-fashioned notion, but even today, I think a lot of men still have high expectations of an oldest son.  I know Roy always has where Chris is concerned.”

 

“Really?  It never seemed that way to me.”

 

“No?”

 

“Uh huh. Yeah, I knew Roy expected Chris to do well in school and go on to college, but Roy...well, he’s always been so...gentle with the kids, is the best way I can put it. ‘Soft-spoken’ is the way my mom would have described Roy if she’d ever gotten the chance to meet him.”

 

“He is soft-spoken,” Joanne agreed. “And one of the things I’ve always loved about him is how gentle he’s always been with our children.  He exercises a quiet influence over them. Yet they know when they’ve pushed the limit with him and he means business.  John always says that when Daddy crooks a finger at him, frowns, and says, “Come here, young man.  We need to talk,” that it makes his stomach do flip flops.”

 

Johnny chuckled. That was one thing he’d always admired about Roy.  How he could usually get his kids back in line without spanking them or yelling at them. Not that Johnny hadn’t witnessed the kids getting a whack or two on the behind from Roy now and then when they were young, and not that he hadn’t heard Roy raise his voice to them, but overall, as Joanne had said, Roy’s influence was a quiet one that held a lot of love.  At one time when Johnny thought that someday he might have children of his own again, he’d hoped he could put some of what he’d learned from Roy into practice. But as he approached his thirty-ninth birthday, dreams of children had died, and Johnny had assumed the DeSoto kids, and eventually the DeSoto grandkids, would be the closest thing he’d ever have to children and grandchildren of his own.  Now, even his surrogate family was slipping from his grasp, and Johnny was hard pressed to know how to regain all he was losing.

 

The paramedic focused his attention back on Joanne as she said, “With Chris...well, I guess Roy just didn’t want to see Chris go through some of the hard times he did. He wanted Chris to take advantage of opportunities Roy’s mother couldn’t afford to give him.”

 

Johnny nodded. He didn’t need further explanation. He and Roy had talked about this subject enough for Johnny to know Roy had wanted Chris to get a college degree.  He wanted Chris to put off getting serious about a girl until after he graduated and got settled in a good job.  He wanted Chris to be earning the kind of income that wouldn’t cause him to struggle to make ends meet when a wife, a mortgage payment, and children were all part of his life.

 

The paramedic stared out the patio doors. Joe was sprawled beneath a lounge chair on the deck.  Beyond the deck was the backyard, and then the rising slopes of the San Gabriel Mountains.

 

Johnny shifted his gaze to Joanne. “Give me an honest answer. Do you think when some more time has passed, Roy...well, that he and I can somehow...that things can be good between us again?”

 

Joanne wanted to say yes. She wanted to tell Johnny to be patient and that yes, given enough time Roy would come around. But Johnny had asked her to be honest, and she knew it would hurt him worse if she gave him false hope, rather than just come right out and tell him the truth.

 

“I...Johnny, I--”             

 

The man’s voice was flat and defeated.  “You don’t think so.”

 

Joanne reached for Johnny’s hand and squeezed. “No, I don’t.  Or at least I don’t think he’ll be ready for a long time.  I wish I had a different answer for you. I wish to God I did, Johnny, but I don’t.  I just don’t.”

 

“He’s forbid you to contact me, hasn’t he,” Johnny stated, suddenly realizing why he hadn’t heard from Joanne or Jennifer. “He’s told all of you not to contact me.”

 

Joanne swallowed hard as tears welled up in her eyes.  She couldn’t stand the pain she saw on Johnny’s face.  As though someone had taken his family away from him for the second time.

 

The woman was too choked up to speak.  She nodded as a tear rolled down her face.

 

Johnny reached out and brushed the tear away with the knuckles of his right hand.

 

“Jo, don’t cry.”

 

Joanne clasped his hand, the dry skin and calluses a testament to his love for the outdoors. 

 

“This is goodbye, isn’t it.”

 

“No. No it’s not.”

 

“The look on your face says it is. Johnny...please...”

 

“Jo, I won’t cause trouble between you and Roy, or between Roy and the kids.”

 

“But--”

 

“But what? You just told me that my friendship with Roy is probably over.  Or at least as far as he’s concerned it is.  I can’t...for as much I wanna keep my friendship with you and the kids, I can’t.  Roy’s your husband and the kids’ father.  It’ll just cause too many problems.  It’ll just end up putting you and the kids in the middle.  Roy doesn’t need that right now, Jo.  He needs your support. He needs to know he can count on you, and count on Jenny and John too.”

 

“I wish he’d see that he needs to count on you too.”

 

“So do I, but no matter how much I wanna make him see it, I can’t, and neither can you.”

 

The woman nodded. She reached for the chair her purse was sitting on.  She dug inside the purse for a packet of Kleenex. She pulled a tissue out and wiped her eyes while Johnny said, “Just do me one favor.”

 

Joanne crumpled the tissue and stuffed it back into her purse. “Anything.”

 

“Tell Chris...tell Chris I’m sorry, and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of him.”

 

“Go see him, Johnny.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Johnny, he wants to see you.  He asks me about you all the time.  He doesn’t blame you.”

 

“I can’t see Chris for the same reasons I can’t see you, or Jenny, or John.  I won’t come between Chris and Roy.”

 

“But unlike Jenny and John, Chris is an adult. Roy has to understand that Chris has the right to keep in contact with you if that’s what he wants, and it is Johnny.  It is.  Chris wants to see you.”

 

“I can’t do that to Roy.”

 

“But what about what Roy’s doing to you?”

 

“Maybe if I was in his place I’d be doing the same thing.”

 

“Maybe you would, but then again, maybe you wouldn’t. Besides, that’s not the point.”

 

“Yeah, Jo, it is.  It is the point. So would you tell Chris what I said?”

 

“Please go and tell him yourself. Go this evening while Roy’s on-duty.”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I won’t go behind Roy’s back like that. Besides, if he walks in for some reason, if his crew is in the area and he stops in to see Chris for a few minutes and finds me there it’ll just cause too much upset.  I don’t wanna do that to Chris, and I don’t wanna do it to Roy, either.”

 

“Johnny, quit being so goddamn stubborn.”

 

That got a smile out of Johnny. “There you go swearin’ like a fireman again.”

 

“You’re giving me reason to swear like a fireman.”

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.”

 

“I just wish you’d change your mind and go see Chris.”

 

“Well I won’t.  At least not right now.  So please give him my message, okay?”

 

“Call him. He’s got a phone by his bed. You can call him.”

 

“Jo...”

 

The woman sighed at the plea in Johnny’s tone. 

 

“All right, I’ll give him your message.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”  Joanne glanced at her watch.  She grabbed her purse and reluctantly got to her feet.

 

“I need to get going.  John has to be picked up from the party at five.”

 

Johnny stood and slid open the screen door for the woman. He followed her across the deck and down the steps.  Joe lifted his head slightly, but decided the afternoon was too warm to move from his cool spot beneath the lounge chair.

 

When they reached Joanne’s vehicle, she opened the driver’s side door and tossed her purse to the passenger seat.  She turned around, looking up at the paramedic chief standing behind her. She put her arms around his slim waist and briefly wondered how a man rapidly approaching middle age could stay so darn skinny.

 

Joanne laid her head against Johnny’s chest, and felt him return the hug.  He patted her back three times, then stepped from her embrace.  She reached for his right hand and gave it a tender squeeze.

 

“You were wrong about one thing, Johnny.”

 

“What was that?”

 

“You can keep your friendship with the kids and me. Maybe...maybe it’ll be different from the way it was before, but I’ll always think of you as a treasured friend, and I know my children will always think of you as their Uncle Johnny.”

 

Johnny turned to look at the barn, but not before Joanne saw the moisture in his eyes. He squeezed her hand in return, then said in a voice full of tightly controlled emotion, “Take care of yourself, Jo. And the kids and...and Roy. Take care of the kids and Roy for me too.”

 

Joanne could barely contain her own emotions as she promised around the lump in her throat, “I will.”

 

Johnny released Joanne’s hand. Without looking back at her, he headed for the house. 

 

“Johnny!”

 

The paramedic hesitated, then slowly turned around.

 

“Be good to yourself, Johnny.  Just please, be good to yourself.”

 

It took a moment for the man to acknowledge Joanne’s words.  She hoped he realized that she meant he wasn’t to blame himself for how things had changed between him and Roy, nor for what had happened to Chris. She hoped he realized she meant that, no matter what he did in the future, she wanted him to be happy, and that she didn’t want him spending the rest of his life punishing himself for events that were out of his control - Chris’s decision to leave college and join the fire department.  The decision of a crazed man with a gun on a hot July night.  And Roy’s decision to end what had been a close and valued friendship.

           

Johnny nodded. His soft words barely carried to Joanne’s ears.

 

“I will be.”

 

There was no conviction in the man’s tone, but instead, only sorrow and loss. Joanne hoped that given time, Johnny would come to see he deserved whatever good things came his way, and he deserved to go after those good things rather than ignoring them in an effort to continue punishing himself for what had happened to Chris.

 

Joanne watched until Johnny entered his house.  She stood outside her car a minute longer, drinking in the sights, sounds, and smells that were Johnny’s small ranch.  It was a place filled with happy memories. She had unpacked boxes of dishes and utensils in Johnny’s kitchen the day he moved here, while Roy and the A-shift crew from Station 51 had carried furniture and appliances into various rooms. A week later, she and Roy had helped him paint the laundry room, bathroom, and bedrooms.  Her kids had spent weekends here riding horses, and then roasting hotdogs and marshmallows over campfires. The whole family had picnicked on the deck more times than Joanne could count, and had even come for Thanksgiving dinner in more recent years when Johnny and Roy no longer worked together. 

 

It had been a joke at the DeSoto house the first year Johnny extended that invitation. Roy and the kids wondered if they’d end up eating hamburgers and Oreo cookies, but Johnny surprised them all by cooking a turkey that came out of the oven tender, juicy, and golden brown, and having pumpkin and apple pies cooling on the counter. He finally admitted he’d bought the pies at a bakery, but only after getting the most from his joke of fooling Roy into believing he’d actually baked them from scratch. Roy’s mother and Joanne had taken over Johnny’s kitchen to make the kinds of side dishes only women think to include, and had kept up that tradition every year since. Joanne blinked back tears as she thought of the laughter that filled Johnny’s house on those Thanksgiving Days, and of how the kids and Roy always helped him hang his outside Christmas lights while she and Harriet made casseroles, mashed potatoes, gravy, and set the table. 

 

The woman chided herself for being overly sentimental. Here she was standing under a broiling August sun crying while thinking of Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas lights.  For some reason, however, Joanne had the feeling she and her family would never be in John Gage’s home again, and that made her cry even harder for all that had been altered because of one mentally ill man with a gun.

 

Joanne finally wiped the tears from her face and climbed in her car.  She had to pick up John, get supper for him from McDonald’s, then drop him off at Harriet’s while she went to visit Chris.  After that, she had to stop and get a few groceries, then retrieve John from his grandmother’s so she could get him home, supervise his bath, read him a story, and get him to bed by a reasonable hour.

 

The busy mother pulled onto the highway and headed for Carson.  She didn’t realize Johnny was watching her from his living room window, nor did she know that as soon as her car was out of sight, he headed to the back of the house where cardboard boxes filled the home’s two bedrooms.  Johnny resumed his packing. He was glad he hadn’t started dismantling the kitchen or living room yet.  He didn’t want Joanne to know he was leaving. He hadn’t told anyone yet, though that would change soon enough.  Tomorrow he’d turn his letter of resignation into headquarters, because in three weeks he’d be moving to Colorado, where he’d accepted a position as a Senior Paramedic with the Denver Fire Department.             

 

Chapter 20

 

Jennifer slammed the Pinto’s gearshift into fourth. She eased off the clutch and pressed down on the accelerator.  She paid no attention to her speed as the little car raced to John Gage’s ranch.  The teenager was furious with her father.  Because of a chance meeting at the library that Saturday morning with Lori Stoker, Jennifer had found out that Uncle Johnny was moving away. Lori didn’t know where he was going, but she’d overheard her father tell her mother that Johnny had turned in his resignation and was leaving soon.

 

Jennifer didn’t know how “soon” soon was, but she hoped she could talk the man out of going. It took every ounce of control the girl had not to confront her father the minute she walked in the door after arriving home from the library.  If Mike Stoker knew Uncle Johnny was moving, then Jennifer was certain her father knew it too.  Yet he hadn’t said anything at all.  Or at least not to her, or to John, or to Chris, because even though Chris was still at the rehab hospital, he would have told Jennifer if he knew something that important, and as far as John went, there was no way he’d be able to keep a secret that big. 

 

Maybe her dad told her mom, but even if he had, it wasn’t Mom who Jen was angry with.  It was her father she wanted to shake some sense into.  If it was true that Uncle Johnny was leaving Los Angeles, then it was her father’s fault he was going.  But if she’d asked her dad about it, they’d have ended up in a huge fight, just like they did every time Jennifer brought up the forbidden subject of John Gage.  Then she would have lost her driving privileges, meaning Dad would have taken her car keys away, which in turn would have meant not being able to leave the house with John after Mom and Dad went to visit Chris. 

 

Because of all that, Jennifer bided her time during lunch and acted as normal as possible while picking at the roast beef sandwich she had no appetite for.  She’d retreated to her room under the guise of doing homework just as soon as she’d helped her mom clear the table. She’d then played the role of dutiful daughter when her father knocked on her door, opened it when she gave her permission, and said, “John’s watching a movie in the living room. We’re headed to see Chris now. After we leave the hospital we’re running some errands, then I’m taking your mom to dinner.  There’s money on the table for a pizza. Call for one whenever you and John are ready to eat.”

 

Jennifer pasted a smile on her face and forced herself to say what she knew her father expected to hear. “Sure, Dad.  Thanks. Tell Chris I said hi.”

 

Jennifer’s dad smiled in return.  “I always do.”

 

Her father had left her door open like he always did when she was supposed to be paying attention to what John was up to. She heard John run to his room while telling Dad he had more pictures for Chris.  Dad exclaimed over the childish artwork, then told John what a terrific little brother he was, and how big a help he’d be to Chris when Chris came home.

 

Jennifer responded to her mother’s call of “Bye, Jenny!” and “Keep the doors locked,” with, “Bye, Mom! I will!”

 

When the teen heard the door shut that led from the laundry room to the garage, she climbed off her bed and walked to her window. She gingerly pulled one side of the curtains from the frame, peering out at the street.  She watched as Dad backed the car onto the street, then as he waited a few seconds to make sure the garage door was automatically closing.  When he finally drove off, Jennifer ran for her bed.  She pulled a pair of tennis shoes from beneath it. She left her books and papers sprawled on her bedspread while plucking her purse from amongst the mess.  She shoved her feet in her shoes and went in search of John.  She found him in front of the television watching an old Disney movie called the Love Bug.  Jennifer reached for the remote and stopped the movie, then shut the T.V. off.

 

The boy’s head whipped around from where he was seated a few feet in front of the T.V.

 

“Jenny!  I was watching that!”

 

“I know, but we need to go.”

 

“But it was just getting to the good part where Herbie goes ‘round and ‘round in circles.”

 

“You can finish watching it when we get home. Besides, you’ve seen it about ten times already.”

 

“So? Besides, I don’t wanna go anywhere.  Mom said you’d help me with my spelling words after the movie, and then we could have a pizza.”

 

“I will help you with your spelling words, and we’ll get a pizza too.  But first we need to go somewhere.”

 

“Where?”

 

Jennifer hesitated a moment, but it wasn’t like she could keep this from John considering he’d have to come with her.  She couldn’t drop him off at Grandma’s without the woman telling her parents at some point that John spent the afternoon at her house, and Jennifer knew her parents would kill her if she dropped John off anywhere else – like at the home of one of his friends – without them being aware of it and giving her permission to do so.

 

Jennifer crouched down.  “Can you keep a secret?”

 

John’s eyes lit up. “Sure!”

 

“No you can’t.”

 

“I can too!”

 

“You’ve never kept one before.”

 

“But I can, Jenny! I’m in the first grade now. I’m not a baby any more.  I can keep a secret. I promise I can keep a secret.”

 

“It’s a really important secret. You can’t tell anyone. Especially not Mom or Dad.”

 

“I won’t tell ‘em if you say I can’t.”

 

“You can’t.”

 

“Okay then, I won’t.  I’ll...” the boy’s eyes cast about as he thought. “I’ll stick a big long knife in my heart before I ever say a single word. Now come on, tell me. What’s the secret?”

 

“We’re going to see Uncle Johnny.”

 

“Right now?”

 

“Yes, right now.”

 

“Yay!”  John jumped up and danced in a circle. “Yay!  Yay!  We’re gonna go see Uncle Johnny!  Yay!  Yay! We’re gonna see Uncle Johnny.”

 

“If that’s how you keep a secret, we’re both gonna be in big trouble.”

 

The boy stopped dancing and let his arms fall to his sides as his sister stood up. “I won’t tell anyone. Dad...he gets really mad if I talk about Uncle Johnny.  He says he doesn’t want me to even think about Uncle Johnny any more.”

 

Jennifer ran a hand through her brother’s hair. The poor kid looked so sad.

 

“I know.”

 

“But it’s hard not to think of Uncle Johnny.  I tried to tell Dad that, but he said I just needed to put him outta my mind, and that when I start thinking of him, I should go outside and play.”

 

Jennifer nodded in sympathy.  She and her father had gotten into several fights over this subject, so she knew what John was going through.  She also knew it was harder on the little boy than it was on her, because there was so much of what had happened that he didn’t fully understand.

 

John’s voice dropped to just above a whisper.  “Don’t tell Dad this, but sometimes me and Mom talk about Uncle Johnny.”

 

Jennifer smiled and winked while leading her brother out the front door. “Don’t tell Dad this either, but sometimes me and Mom talk about Uncle Johnny too.”

 

John took his sister’s hand, squeezed it, and ran with her to the Pinto. He’d been quiet throughout the drive, but Jennifer had seen him watching out of the window, as though he was so eager to arrive at Uncle Johnny’s that he was absorbing every familiar landmark.

 

The girl eased off the accelerator when she noticed her speed nearing sixty-five.  They were in a fifty-five zone. Her parents would have a fit if she got a speeding ticket, and especially if she got one with John in the car. When her father had taught her to drive, he’d stressed how important it was to have a clear head when behind the wheel, and how you should never drive when you were angry or upset.  The teenager did her best to wipe both her anger and her upset from her mind, so she could concentrate on getting safely to John Gage’s ranch.

 

Chapter 21

 

 

Johnny carried the last of the boxes to the U-Haul trailer he’d rented. A moving van would arrive at eight the next morning.  His furniture, mattresses, and appliances would be loaded onto it.  Everything else Johnny was bringing in the U-Haul that he’d already hitched to the Land Rover.

 

During the past month, Johnny had made two quick flights to Denver that both involved stays of just forty-eight hours so they’d coincide with his scheduled days off.  Those brief trips had allowed Johnny to make all the arrangements he needed to from securing a job, to finding a place to live. Most of his things would be put in the storage unit he’d leased, because they wouldn’t fit in the small apartment he was renting on a month-to-month basis. Once he was settled, he’d begin looking for something larger and more permanent. 

 

The ranch had been sold to his neighbor’s daughter and her husband.  They’d made a standing offer on it two years earlier. When Johnny had refused to sell at that time, they’d told him to call them if he ever changed his mind. That neighbor, Bob Emery, had bought Johnny’s horses from him, though they would remain here in the barn they were familiar with, and Bob’s daughter and granddaughter, who both wanted to get involved in competitive riding and showmenship, would see that they were fed, exercised, and given lots of attention.  The cats would remain behind in the barn as well, and Johnny’s beloved Joe would live with Bob and his wife Doris.

 

Johnny had considered contacting Joanne to see if the DeSotos would take the dog, but after giving it further thought, decided not to.  He wanted Joe to have a good home where he was loved and taken care of.  Johnny knew Joanne and the kids would provide that for the dog, but considering Roy’s current feelings, the paramedic was left uncertain of what would ultimately happen to Joe.  He didn’t want to find out someday that Roy had taken Joe to the Humane Society because he didn’t want any reminders of John Gage around.  It was hard for Johnny to imagine Roy taking such an action, yet it was also hard to predict what anger could drive a person to do. Therefore, Johnny decided it was best to leave L.A. with the assurance that Joe would be able to live out the rest of his life with people he knew well and liked. Bob and Doris fit that bill just as well as the DeSoto family did.

 

Johnny had kept his departure as quiet as possible. Of course, once he’d turned in his resignation word had gotten around, but he’d downplayed the whole thing. Therefore, he’d been able to put the kibosh on any going-away parties. After a lot of nagging on Chet Kelly’s part, Johnny had finally consented to meeting Marco, Chet, and Charlie Dwyer for dinner three nights earlier, but he didn’t even reveal to them his true reasons for leaving. Johnny wasn’t so foolish as not to assume they’d figured it out, or at least realized that what happened to Chris DeSoto was a major factor behind this decision.  Chet tried to get Johnny to say where he was going, but the paramedic chief was firm in his refusal to answer any questions about the move. He saw Marco shake his head at Chet and mouth, “Drop it,” right before the waitress brought their steaks, and that put an end to the discussion.

 

Johnny looked around while patting Joe’s head.  There was nothing holding him here now. The house was empty of everything other than the furniture, appliances, and what little he needed in way of food, towels, and clothing for tonight and tomorrow morning.  All of his beloved animals would be well cared for, and he didn’t need to come back to testify against the guy who had shot Chris. The cops finally caught him two weeks after the incident.  The man’s name was Scott Monroe, and he’d pleaded guilty by reason of insanity at his initial court appearance.  From what Troy Anders had told Johnny, Monroe was as nuts as they come, and would probably spend the rest of his life locked up in a mental institution.  

 

The paramedic secured the door on the rear of the U-Haul. He started walking toward the barn, when he heard the crunch of car tires on gravel.  He turned around, then frowned when he recognized the vehicle stopping beside the Land Rover.  The passenger door was thrown open and John ran toward him with his arms wide open.

 

“Uncle Johnny! Uncle Johnny!”

 

Despite strong reservations about this surprise visit, Johnny swept the boy up and hugged him tightly. He closed his eyes and whispered, “Hey, Little Pally.”

 

John squeezed the man’s neck as though he never planned to let go.

 

“I’ve missed you so much.”

 

“I’ve missed you too, buddy.”

 

Johnny allowed the boy to decide when the hug should end. When John finally began to squirm, Johnny set him on his feet.  His eyes met Jennifer’s for the first time.

 

“Unless your dad has had a big change of heart, you shouldn’t be here.”

 

“He hasn’t had a change of heart, but I don’t care.”

 

“You should, Jen. It’s not right for you to disobey him like this, and to drag John into it besides.”

 

John looked up at the man.  “Why is my dad so mad at you, Uncle Johnny?  Is it ‘cause Chris can’t walk any more?”

 

Johnny gave the boy a sad smile while ruffling his hair. “You’re dad’s really sad right now, kiddo.  That’s all that matters, okay?”

 

“But how come he’s mad at you? How come he says I can’t talk about you?”

“It doesn’t matter, John.  It’s not important.”

 

“It is to me.  And to Jenny, and Chris, and to my mom too.”

 

Johnny couldn’t stand to see both the love and confusion in the eyes of the child gazing up at him.  He wished there was some way he could make things better for John.  Better for all of them.  But he couldn’t, so he did the only thing he could think of in order to make this last visit a memorable one for the six year old.

 

“Hey, how about if you take a ride around the corral on Cheyenne?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Okay, let’s go get her saddled up then, pardner.”

 

John ran ahead of Johnny to the barn, Jennifer and Joe trailing along behind them.  Once John was on the horse, Joe sat by the corral’s fence as if to guard his young friend, while Johnny and Jennifer headed for the deck.  From there they could keep an eye on John, and yet be out of his hearing range.

 

The deck furniture was folded and leaning against a wall of the house. The cushions that belonged to the chairs and chaise lounge were stacked in one corner. Jennifer didn’t ask Johnny to put any of it back together.  Instead, she sat down on the deck with her feet resting on the second step.  Johnny copied her posture, but because of his longer legs he rested his feet on the third step.

 

Jennifer didn’t beat around the bush, but then, Johnny didn’t expect that she would.

 

“You’re leaving because of my dad, aren’t you?”

 

“No, Jenny, I’m not.”

 

“Don’t lie to me, Uncle Johnny.  I know you’re leaving because of Dad. Because of what happened to Chris.  Because Dad blames you for it.”

 

“I’m leaving because it’s time for me to go, Jenny Bean. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

 

“But I don’t want you to go. None of us want you to go. Dad...he’ll change his mind. I know he will. He won’t stay mad forever. Just give him some more time. Please give him some more time.”

 

Johnny shook his head. “This is for the best, Jen.  You’ll see. It’s for the best.”

 

“No it isn’t!  It’s not for the best. If it was for the best, I wouldn’t have heard about it at the library from Lori Stoker. If it was for the best, you’d be at our house having a going away dinner tonight, not...not...not sneaking off without telling any of us where we can find you! Without telling any of us goodbye!”

 

Johnny put an arm around the distraught girl and brought her to head to his chest.

 

“The reason I didn’t wanna say goodbye is because things have already been hard enough on you, and your brothers, and your mom.   It’s just that...that sometimes goodbyes are easier when they’re left unsaid.”

 

Jennifer pulled away from the man.

 

“Not this time, Uncle Johnny.  It’s not easier this time.”

 

Johnny shrugged. “I’m doin’ the best I can, Jenny Bean.  The best I know how to do.  Your dad...nothing is ever gonna change the fact that your dad was my best friend for a lotta years.  I’ll probably always think of him as my best friend, even when I’m old and gray and can’t remember my own name.”

 

Jennifer couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. It was hard for her to picture John Gage as old and gray. 

 

“Because of how much I respect your dad, because of how much I think of him, it’s best if I start over somewhere else.”

 

“No it’s not!”

 

“Yes it is.  I’ll tell you what I told your mom a few weeks ago.”

 

“You saw Mom?”

 

“She showed up here one day outta the blue just like you.”

 

Jenny blushed. “Like mother like daughter, huh?”

 

“Yeah, just like that,” Johnny agreed with a smile. “Anyway, I told your mom that I won’t come between Roy and his family, and I meant that.  It’s important that all of you pull together for Chris’s sake right now, and for your dad’s sake too.”

 

“But what about you? You’ve been a part of our family for as long as I can remember.  Dad and Mom named John after you.  It’s not fair that you’re just...just...just kicked out in the cold because Dad’s blaming you for something that’s not your fault.  Chris doesn’t blame you, so I don’t see why Dad should.”

 

“Someday when you’re a parent you’ll understand what your dad’s going through right now. What he’s feeling. Don’t hold it against him, Jenny. Please, for me, don’t hold it against him. He loves you kids more than you can imagine. What’s happened to Chris is tearing him apart.  I don’t have to be in contact with Roy to know it’s killing him.”

 

“Then he should be mad at the guy who shot Chris, not at you. That Monroe guy. That’s who Dad should be angry with.”

 

“It’s not for you to decide who your dad should and shouldn’t be angry with.  When a man is dealing with what Roy is – something bad...painful...that involves one of his children - anger becomes a real personal thing, Jen.”

 

Jennifer thought a moment, then gave a reluctant nod. She would have disputed what Johnny said, but she knew his only child had been murdered years earlier, so that meant she also knew he was speaking from experience.

 

“Keep an eye on John for a minute. I need to get something from inside.”

 

The girl said, “All right,” as Johnny rose and entered the house. He was back within thirty seconds. He sat down beside Jennifer again and handed her a plain white envelope.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“It’s a letter for Chris. I was gonna mail it on my way outta town tomorrow. Promise you’ll give that to him for me, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Jennifer folded the envelope in half and put it in the back pocket of her blue jeans.

 

“And now I want you to make me another promise.”

 

“What?”

 

“Go to college, and then go on to medical school like you’ve been talking about since you were thirteen.”

 

“It’s going to take a lot of years of studying, and cost a lot of money.”

 

“Yeah, it will,” Johnny agreed.  “But I know how determined you are. It’ll take a lot of work on your part, and it won’t be easy.  It’ll probably turn out to be the hardest thing you’ll ever do, but I have faith in you.”  Johnny grinned while vowing, “Someday I’m gonna walk into Rampart’s ER, and when I ask to have Doctor DeSoto paged, you’d better show up.”

 

Jennifer’s throat swelled at the man’s words as tears spilled from her eyes.  Through blurred vision she looked over Johnny’s shoulder at the U-Haul.

 

“I wish you weren’t leaving.  I wish things hadn’t turned out this way.”

 

“I know you do, sweetheart.”

 

“Where’re you going?”

 

“I...I don’t know.”

 

“How can you have all your stuff loaded up and not know where you’re going?”

 

“I just don’t.”

 

“You’re a rotten liar, Uncle Johnny.”  Jennifer started to cry harder then because somehow she knew she’d never see or hear from John Gage again. “You’re a totally rotten liar.”

 

“I’m sorry, Jen.”  Johnny pulled the girl to his chest again and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Pro-promise me you’ll write? That when you get to wherever it is you’re going, you’ll write and let us know you’re okay?”

 

“Sure. Sure, Jenny Bean, I promise.”

 

That promise sounded like a hallow one to Jennifer, but she said no more about it. She could tell that her tears were only making things harder for the man.  She sat up and wiped her eyes with her palms while working hard to gather her emotions. 

 

Johnny and Jennifer watched John ride for another twenty minutes, neither of them saying anything during that time. Jennifer was reluctant to leave, but she couldn’t risk her parents coming home early and finding her and John gone.

 

“We...we need to go.”

 

“Your folks don’t know you’re here, do they.”

 

“No. They’re visiting Chris. They think John and I are at home.”

 

“Then you’d better get back there.”

 

Jennifer nodded.  As they stood, she wrapped her arms around Johnny’s waist, gave him a quick hug, and then backed away before she started crying again.  She hurried down the steps and headed toward her brother.  Johnny swallowed hard before following her.

 

Although John couldn’t have heard the conversation that took place on the deck, he must have noticed his sister’s red eyes and sensed John Gage’s sorrow.  Between that and the fact that Uncle Johnny’s barn no longer held any tools or other personal items the boy associated with it, and the deck furniture was all folded up, and there was a trailer attached to the back of Uncle Johnny’s Land Rover, the six year old had a pretty good idea as to what was going on.  After Cheyenne was unsaddled and the trio was walking toward the Pinto, John looked up at the paramedic.

 

“Are you goin’ away, Uncle Johnny?”

 

Johnny put an arm around the boy’s shoulders. He didn’t want to hurt John, but lying wouldn’t do the youngster any favors either. It wasn’t fair to let John believe that he could return to the ranch at any time and find Johnny still living here.

 

“Yeah, John, I am.”

 

“Can we come see you at your new house?”

 

“It’s pretty far...” Johnny glanced at Jennifer, stopping himself before he revealed more than he wanted to. “It’ll probably be pretty far away.”

 

“Too far for Jenny to drive us there?”

 

“I’m afraid so.”

 

“But why?”

 

“I...that’s just the way it is, John.”

 

“Are you leaving ‘cause my dad’s mad at you?”

 

This was one time Johnny felt a lie was justified.

 

“No, kiddo. This has nothing to do with your dad.”

 

“But I don’t want you to go.”  John threw himself at Johnny, clinging to his legs and making it impossible for the paramedic to move.  “Please don’t go, Uncle Johnny!  Please don’t go.”

 

Johnny picked the boy up and hugged him. He closed his eyes for a few seconds while rubbing a hand in comforting circles across John’s back. That tender gesture only made the boy cry harder and cling to Johnny even tighter.  When nothing Johnny said would calm John down, the man was finally forced to pull the boy away and place him in Jennifer’s arms. 

 

“Take him home, Jenny,” Johnny said in a choked voice. “Take him home please.”

 

Jennifer didn’t have a chance to answer since the paramedic turned and hurried to the house, but not before she’d seen the tears in his eyes. She started crying again too as she helped John get in the car.  She fastened the sobbing boy’s seatbelt for him, then rounded the Pinto to the driver’s side.

 

Like her mother had done, Jennifer stood outside of her vehicle for a moment and absorbed this place that had been such a big part of her life. She knew she’d never come to the ranch again, and even if she drove by it every so often there’d be no point in stopping, because John Gage wouldn’t be here.

 

As she climbed in the car, Jennifer whispered softly between her tears, “Goodbye, Uncle Johnny. We’ll miss you. We’ll miss you so much.”

 

 

~ ~ ~

 

By the time Roy and Joanne arrived home that night, John had cried himself to sleep surrounded by every toy his Uncle Johnny had ever given him, and a subdued Jennifer was in her room struggling to concentrate on her schoolwork.

 

All seemed as it should be to Roy.  There was an empty pizza box in the garbage can, and the Love Bug was in its case and back on the shelf where it belonged. John’s spelling words for the coming week had each been practiced five times like his teacher assigned, and the thick manila paper he’d printed them on was in the middle of the kitchen table awaiting Joanne’s review.  Jennifer was in her room studying, and John was asleep in his bed with toys piled all over his mattress.

 

It was Joanne who noticed the distinct odor of horses on her youngest son when she bent to kiss his head. And it was Joanne who noticed the significance of the toys John was sleeping amongst. And it was Joanne, as well, who noticed her daughter’s puffy eyes when she stepped into Jennifer’s room and asked if everything had been okay while she and Roy were gone.

 

Jennifer’s eyes flicked to the open pages of her chemistry book. 

 

“Everything was fine.”

 

Joanne heard the television come on in the living room.  She glanced down the hall. When Roy didn’t appear, she knew he was waiting for the ten o’clock news to start. She returned her attention to her daughter.

 

“Jenny, if there’s something you want to tell me...something you need to talk about...”

 

Jennifer refused to meet her mother’s gaze.

 

“I’m fine, Mom. I don’t need to talk about anything.”

 

Joanne considered pressing the issue, then just as quickly decided to let it drop.  Now wasn’t the time for confessions or punishments.  Now was the time to acknowledge that her daughter was growing up, and that with adulthood came mutual respect between a parent and her child, along with the harsh reality that even a mother’s love can’t always mend life’s hurts and make things better.

 

Right before she closed the door Joanne said, “I wish he wasn’t leaving too, sweetheart. I wish with all my heart that it hadn’t come to this.”

 

Jennifer waited until she heard her mother walk down the hall before looking up.  With tears in her eyes she murmured to her empty room, “I wish it hadn’t either, Mom.  I wish Dad could see how much all of us don’t want Uncle Johnny to leave.”

 

The exhausted teenager dropped to her pillows, and like her younger brother had done two hours earlier, cried herself to sleep.

 

 

Part 4