Chapter 4
'Hi gals. Sorry I'm late.' Kristin Oldman joined her friends at the cantina of the County General Hospital where she had already been expected impatiently by a group of fellow nurses. She sat down, adding mysteriously: 'If I tell you what kept me so long you won't believe it.'
This introduction guaranteed the others' absolute attention. 'You all know Dr Sabourin's special friend Caine, that strange old Chinese magician with his herbs and teas who often comes to see the patients in her ward?' All of them nodded.
'Remember his son, Peter, the cop? That gorgeous-looking guy who was with him lately?' Again, they nodded in unison, some of them groaning or showing signs of displeasure.
'Detective Peter Caine? Of the 101st precinct?' asked Karen Granger, the young student nurse who was new to Dr Sabourin's ward. 'You know him? Wow, that's great! He's been my cousin Blythe's hero ever since the day he rescued her from that madman... uh, what was his name,... ah, yeah, Forrester, Max Forrester. This guy had taken an entire school bus full of kids as hostages only to get revenge on their teacher, and Detective Caine saved them all. Single-handedly. He even shielded the teacher with his own body and caught himself a bullet when Forrester wacked out and started shooting all over the place. According to Blythe, he must be terrific, downright incredible. I've never met him, but I'd really love to.'
'Yeah, that's just like him, a veritable knight in shining armour, always putting his own life in the line to protect the innocent. And while Channel 3 Action News spread details about his latest exploit, nobody gives a damn about the people who patch him up again and who have to put up with him and his impatient ways.'
This indignant comment came from April Prince, an elderly nurse who worked at the surgical ward. She addressed Karen directly, seeing her enchanted and dreamy look. 'Your cousin has told you so much about him that you're a kind of fan, aren't you? And judging by your excitement, Kristin, that goes for you as well, doesn't it?'
Noticing that both of her colleagues were blushing, she added understandingly, 'Well, that's no surprise. This Peter Caine's damned attractive, just the kind of guy every woman would fall for at first sight: young, awesome body, big hazel puppy eyes, charming voice and a smile to die for. Nevertheless, let me give you a good advice: Stay away from him if you can. This guy means trouble. Trouble with a capital T. Outside a hospital, he may well be the gentlest person in the whole world; but in here, he's restless, impatient, stubborn, and bad-tempered, and he disobeys the doctors' orders. He hates being in hospital about as much as we hate having him here. Each time he leaves, the ward throws a party.' All the nurses who worked in her ward nodded in agreement.
Sighing deeply, she added, 'Too bad he keeps coming back one or twice a year, usually with a bullet or stab wound he gets himself in a fight with a bunch of criminals. Never really serious, just bad enough for him to be pissed off and venting it on us.'
One of the group asked apprehensively, looking at Kristin, 'Don't tell us he's done it again – has he?'
Kristin nodded. 'Yep. He was taken up from the emergency ward just ten minutes ago. I practically ran into Dr Sabourin on my way here. She gave me a lot of instructions on his account, that's why I'm late. Seems he's been involved in a car crash.'
'Boy, am I glad that I'm not in your ward!' April grinned while another one asked, 'How bad is it? Any chance you get rid of him soon?'
'Dunno.' Kristin shrugged. 'He's got no injuries other than a severe concussion, but there are complications of some sort. You know, head injuries can be quite tricky. Dr Sabourin is optimistic that his condition will improve within the next few days and that he will regain his sight soon, but right now he can't see. He's blind.'
Startled, Karen blurted out, 'Oh no! How awful! The poor man!' – Whereas April said, at the same time, 'Oh my, you've all got my deepest sympathy. You're bound to have a very bad time.'
At Karen's utterly reproachful look, she said soothingly, 'Let me put my remarks into context, Karen. I can imagine how frightening this must be for anyone, even if it's only temporary. All the more for such an active, restless character like Peter Caine. And I really do feel sorry for him. But somehow, I can't help thinking that, as long as he is in your ward, it's going to be you who will need all the sympathy and support you can get. Mark my words – he's maddening enough under normal circumstances. I don't dare think of what a really serious injury like this one might do to his state of mind and his behaviour.'
* * *
Ouch, what's the matter with my head? Has somebody hit me with a baseball bat? Or do I have a hangover? And what's that funny noise, this strange blip.. blip.. blip?
When Peter gradually awoke from his sedative-induced sleep, his head was throbbing, his memory seemed to have left him entirely and he didn't have a clue where he was or what had happened to him. Slowly, very slowly, bits and pieces came back, until, at last, the final piece fell into place and he remembered everything: a little girl, running at his car... the horrified expression in her face... his head hitting something hard... darkness... his coming to in the ambulance and – utterly appalling – his not being able to see a thing!
The overbearing terror he had felt then came back, washing over him like a tidal wave. He was blind!
NOOO! This can't be! Please!
For a long time, this was the only thing he could think of. Then, suddenly, comforting words came to his mind: 'This is normal and usually passes within a few days.' This encouraging thought drove some of the despair from his heart. Who had said that? He didn't remember. After some thinking, it came back to him: it had been Dr Sabourin. She was an excellent physician. He trusted her judgement – maybe it was over already? He had no idea how much time had passed since she had said that to him. Minutes? Hours? Days?
Maybe he could already see again? With renewed courage, he opened his eyes.
Nothing. Only darkness.
Peter felt a new wave of despair rush over him as his hopes were disappointed. Several minutes passed before he could think straight again.
Come on, you fool! Dr Sabourin spoke of several days – you'll just have to wait. Right now, you'd rather find out where you are, what's going on and how you can get help!
As for the 'where', he most likely was in hospital, probably in Dr Sabourin's ward. Thus, all he needed to do was call a nurse – at least if he could find the alarm button which was supposed to be somewhere within his reach.
He started to grope around for the alarm button, suddenly noticing that something was attached to the back of his right hand. He tried to feel what it was, using the fingers of his left hand, when a sharp pain made him realise that it was a needle – very likely an IV canula – that his fumbling had shifted. So he definitely was in hospital! He better be more careful from now on.
If I could just find the alarm button! Then I could get help.
After what seemed like an endless time, his fingers hit something hard. He tried to feel what it was, find out its shape. It seemed to be a button he could press, all right. Attached to its smaller end, there was a piece of string.
Is that a cable? This has to be the alarm button, please let it be the alarm button!
Peter pressed it as hard as he could and waited for a reaction. Any reaction.
Very soon, he heard quick foot-steps approach. Then there was a faint creak, like a door being opened. The steps were coming towards him, now louder than before. A pleasant female voice said shyly, 'Hello Detective Caine. I'm student nurse Karen Granger. How are you feeling?'
Out of habit, Peter turned his face in the direction where the voice originated, but a sudden sharp pain in his head and a feeling of nausea made him regret the movement instantly. 'Aaaah... My head is throbbing, it aches like hell... Where am I? Where's Dr Sabourin? What's going on here?'
Talking to someone else without knowing what the other person looked like felt very strange. Judging by the sound of her voice and the clearly noticable undertone of shyness, Peter guessed that student nurse Granger probably was very young. He heard her say, 'You're in Dr Sabourin's ward at County General Hospital, detective. She asked to be informed about any change of your condition so I‘ve paged her as soon as I noticed that you had pressed the alarm button. She'll be here very soon. – Please, don't be startled, I'm going to check on the IV now, it looks as if it had been dislocated.'
'Yes, I accidentally shifted it when I tried to find out what it was.'
He felt a light touch at his right forearm, fingers probing for the position of the needle, correcting it. Then she said, 'I'm done. You shouldn't feel the needle anymore – is it okay now?'
Further footsteps, the door again, then Dr Sabourin's voice. 'Hello, Detective Caine. How are you feeling?'
Thank God! She would tell him what was going on. He turned his head towards her, ignoring the increasing pain, and asked almost imploringly: 'My head is aching terribly. And my eyes... Please, tell me what's going on? What happened to my eyes, what's wrong with them? Why can't I see a thing? Will I ever be able to see again? Please!'
Dr Sabourin couldn't help perceiving the unmistakable terror in the young man's voice. A very natural feeling, given his current situation. Luckily, she could give him a somewhat comforting answer.
'Yes, I'm pretty sure of that, detective. You suffer from severe concussion, and as a side effect to that, you have lost your sight. We did a CT to rule out brain damage and skull fractures, and the results are very good, so the chances are excellent that your current blindness will pass very soon. However, I cannot say when – only that it is very likely a matter of days. But it's way too early to tell. We'll have to perform further tests and we'll monitor you very closely for the next twenty-four hours. Then I can tell you more.“
He swallowed, his hands clenched to fists as if he were fighting very hard to retain his composure. These words had obviously not been what her patient had hoped to hear, so Dr Sabourin added quickly, 'Waiting is not easy for you, I know. Especially under circumstances as frightening as these. But all I can say so far is that with head injuries like yours, most of the side effects usually pass within three to five days. I see no reason why it should be any different now.'
It took a few seconds for the message to sink in. At last, he took a deep breath and said, 'Five days?'
He sounded far less desparate than before, just as if a load were off his mind. He even managed a feeble grin. 'I guess I'll live through a couple of days in hospital. I just hope the nurses will survive, too.'
Dr Sabourin and Karen exchanged meaningful looks. Clearly, this attempt at a joke was not very convincing, but Dr Sabourin complied, chuckling, 'We'll only let the toughest ones come near you.'
She continued more seriously, 'We're going to give you another dose of the pain killer now, and you should try to get as much sleep as possible, detective. Give your body the chance to heal. We only have to make sure you don't drift from sleep to unconsciousness, so every hour, a nurse will check on you, wake you up shortly if necessary. At night, every two hours should do. But apart from these interruptions and the tests I already mentioned, you should rest.'
He nodded, only to wince again, unable to suppress a moan. Then, suddenly, he seemed to remember something and asked anxiously, 'The girl? What happened to the girl who ran at my car? Is she okay?'
Dr Sabourin replied, 'Yes, she's all right, please calm down. There's no need to worry. She's still a bit shaky from the shock, but she'll ride it out. Her father called a short while ago, he wanted to see you and thank you for saving his daughter's life. I told him you were in no condition to have visitors and that he should call again later. I'm sure he will come by this evening or tomorrow morning; then you can ask him directly about the girl.'
Hearing the good news, he relaxed visibly. 'Thank God!... But when he comes back, you will let me see...' – a sharp intake of breath – '... er, meet him? I'd love to talk to him and his daughter.'
'Yes, of course. For now, I'll let you rest. – Nurse Granger, will you come with me for the pain killer, please?'
And they left their patient to ponder about everything he had learnt in this conversation. However, when Karen returned shortly afterwards to inject the pain killer into the IV, fatigue had already overcome the young detective and Peter Caine had drifted into an exhausted sleep.
* * *
Chapter 5
In the evening, Peter was drowsing when he felt the presence of another person, even a tad before he heard the gentle knock on the door and the low squeak of the doorknob being turned.
'Who's there?', he asked although he thought he knew the answer already. It was probably Dr Sabourin. She had come to see him several times in the past few hours. And, true enough, he heard a well-known voice say, 'It's Dr Sabourin, I've brought you a visitor.'
He heard two people approach his bed. One of them was the doctor, but why would she come to his bed instead of showing the visitor in and leaving? This was unusual unless – unless she was guiding someone – unless the visitor was... 'Mom?'
'Yes, darling, it's me.' Annie had reached the bed and sat down carefully. She felt for her son's features, gently touching his cheeks, moving her fingers lightly over his face. Then she took his hand.
Peter felt immense relief and bitter remorse at the same time. 'How come you're here? I didn't want Dr Sabourin to call you at the cabin, didn't want you to worry. Why did she do it?'
'It was Frank Strenlich who called, not Dr Sabourin. And I'm very glad he did. How are you?'
She could hear him trying to keep his voice steady, but he failed miserably. 'I'm fine, except for a bit of headache and my eyes... ' He faltered, searching for the right words. '... Oh Mom, I'm so sorry I spoilt your Christmas. I wanted to be there for you, and all I have done is to cause you even more grief. I'm so sorry.'
That was bad. Very bad. Peter seemed to be in his 'it's-all-my-fault-and-I'm-unworthy-to-be-loved' mood. Of the seemingly infinite variations of Peter's forms of self-reproach, this specific one was the one Paul had always handled best. But Paul wasn't here, so she had to do this on her own. Annie suppressed a sigh. She could handle it, all right.
She asked severely, 'Peter Matthew Caine, are you seriously telling me you are sorry that you saved a girl's life? You don't mean that, do you? Would you rather have killed her?'
'No, of course not. You know what I mean.' He sounded astonished, also slightly irritated.
That's good! As long as he's not too depressed to be irritated it should be easy to coax him out of this mood and make him see reason.
Affectionately, Annie replied, 'Yes, I do. And I'm very proud of you. Even if Frank's call scared me out of my wits. Even if I die a thousand deaths each time you land up in hospital. But that doesn't change one iota – I am very proud of what you have done for that girl.'
She heard him swallow hard. Gently, she continued, 'Why don't you tell me what's really on your mind? I can sense you're afraid. Afraid because of what happened, afraid of what lies ahead, aren't you?'
This time, he said nothing. Annie was silent, patiently waiting for Peter to open up. At last, he admitted, in a low voice, almost against his own will, 'I'm scared, Mom... I know I shouldn't be – Dr Sabourin says that the chances are excellent that this blindness is only temporary and that it is only the shock. She keeps telling me to be patient, that only a few hours have passed since the accident and that I shouldn't worry. But I can't help it. It gives me the creeps. What if... what if she's wrong? What if I'll never be able to see again?'
Although he desperately tried to suppress it, Annie could hear the fear clinging to every word he uttered. Silently, she embraced her foster son and held him in her arms, showing him he wasn't alone and they would face together whatever lay ahead.
After a minute or two, Peter turned away, ashamed of himself. 'I'm sorry, Mom, I shouldn't let myself go like that, that was uncalled-for. Especially now.'
'Why? Because of me? Because I am blind?'
'Yes, of course.' Judging by the bewilderment in his voice, he seemed surprised that she asked at all. 'In all the years I have spent with you, I've never ever heard you lament the way I just did. I know that I'm giving in to self-pity. Logic tells me that I should do as Dr Sabourin says and that even if.. ' he swallowed again, then forced himself to continue, '...even if I remain blind this doesn't mean my life is over. There are very few things blind people can't do, and I know for sure quite a lot of things my mom does better than any sighted person ever could. Still, I – '
He stopped when he heard Annie's quiet laugh. 'Patience never was one of your virtues – oh Peter, you expect way too much of yourself.'
Earnestly, she continued, 'Darling, you didn't "let yourself go". You are experiencing a perfectly normal reaction to a threatening situation. Nobody can accept a fate like blindness or deafness or life in a wheel chair in a matter of days. I came to terms with my blindness long before you were born, but it took time. Do you really think that I never envied the other kids? That I never wished I could run or jump without a care as they did, instead of having to concentrate on every single move? That I never wished I could do all the "normal" things like driving a car or just looking at the ocean? Well, you're wrong.
You know, one day... one day I simply realised that it was no use looking at what others could do but that I had to concentrate on myself instead. I found out that it was necessary to accept things as they were and then go on. And suddenly I was free to enjoy and appreciate all the good things in my life, free to be proud of everything I had achieved on my own. And simply because I was no longer occupied with comparing my life to that of others.'
She took his face in her hands and put all her love into her voice.
'You have suddenly been confronted with the loss of your sight, with the possibility, however small, of never regaining it. Don't you think it's normal to be afraid? To feel rage, desperation? To wonder why this has happened to you of all people? These thoughts are not helpful and, in the end, they must be overcome. But not here and not now, this is neither the time nor the place. Don't think so badly of yourself because you are confused or furious or drowning in self-pity!'
Immensely grateful for her understanding, Peter held her tightly. As always, she had read his soul like an open book. She was perfectly right. He was desperate and at the same time beating himself up for his very desperation.
'Thanks, Mom. What would I do without you?' he replied at last, his voice trembling with emotion.
Annie smiled fondly. 'Anytime, my darling. And now that I've lectured you long enough, do you think you feel up to meeting your sisters? They are anxiously waiting outside.'
Chapter 6
'It's been a long day, and I'm tired. I think I'm going to bed. Good night, girls. See you in the morning.'
Conjuring up the last bit of strength she could muster, Annie embraced her stepdaughters, went upstairs to her bedroom and closed the door. She was alone at last! Finally, she could let herself go.
All the energy that had brought her through the evening evaporated in an instant. She slid to the floor and just sat there, leaning against the bedroom door. The tears she had resolutely held back for hours now came with such force that her whole body shook with misery and exhaustion.
Peter was blind! He was trapped in the same endless black void she herself had known for almost her entire life, had been catapulted into a world of faceless voices and unexpected obstacles where he had to grope around in the dark for everything he needed instead of seeing it and simply picking it up.
In a split second, without even a moment's preparation, without time to adjust to it, without the possibility to train his other senses so they would eventually replace his missing sight.
From the moment when Dr Sabourin had told them the entire truth, Annie had known that Peter would be petrified, desperate with fear, and that it was her task – not only as his mother, but as the only blind person Peter knew well – to alleviate his horror. She had to be strong for his sake, mustn't give in to her own feelings. So she had pulled herself together, focussing on supporting her foster son. To her great relief, she had been able to take away some of his panic and help him find some of the strength and courage he'd need during the next days.
But now the very last bit of her own self-restraint was gone. She couldn't do anything but sit on the floor and wait for the flood of tears to end. At last, clinging to Dr Sabourin's positive forecast, she calmed down somewhat. Wearily, she got up, undressed and went to the bathroom, concentrating extra hard on the familiar routine to prevent her thoughts from circling around the same thing over and over again.
However, sleep and the oblivion Annie longed for didn't come. After tossing and turning in bed for hours, she finally gave up. If she was to spend a sleepless night anyway, she might as well cogitate about the best way to help Peter endure the time until his sight returned.
Annie knew plenty of things she could teach him. Learning would keep him from pondering if and when he would be able to see again. And it would help him fight his self-pity as he would find out for himself that he wasn't forced to wait passively until his sight returned, but that he really could do something to improve his situation.
They would have to start with something simple and effective at the same time. Maybe she could teach Peter to read a watch. Yes, that was a good idea. He had complained that he felt totally helpless because he had no idea whether it was day or night, let alone what time it was. She would give Peter her old watch, Paul's first birthday present for her. First thing tomorrow morning she'd have it overhauled; then she'd take it to the hospital.
She sighed. Never, not even in her wildest dreams, had she imagined that her old watch would be needed again for practical use. Once in a while, Annie would take it out of its case and feel the tiny ornaments, happily recalling the day Paul had presented it to her. But who would have thought that someone else beside herself would use it one day? That it would be Peter of all people? Agile, lively Peter who seemed incapable of keeping still for more than a second – who was now virtually immobilised, not only by his fears, but also by the high doses of all those pain killers and sedatives the doctors administered.
For the very first time in weeks, Annie hoped that Paul had really cut all ties to his family, as he had told her on their way to Kwai Chang Caine's flat, right before they parted. Believing that even to attempt to make contact was much too dangerous, he had implored her not to try and find out where he was and how he was doing, adding that he would do the same in order to protect them all.
Poor Paul, it must be bad enough for him out there, alone, without news of his beloved ones – however, knowing about Peter's accident and not being able to support his family in such a situation would be devastating. Living hell.
O Paul, I hope you're fine wherever you are. You know I miss you, we all do. I pray you get rid of the demons that are chasing you and come back to us. We need you. I need you.
Thinking of her husband, Annie gradually drifted into a very uneasy sleep.
* * *
At the same time, the night nurse looked up from the medical report she was reading. It was time to check on the CCI patient in room 304 to see if he was responsive. Stifling a yawn, she got up and went towards the patient's room, hoping that this time he would not be as disoriented. On her previous visit, he had called her 'Paul' and 'Dad', telling her in a very sad voice how much he was missing 'her', obviously still dreaming. It had taken her a while to make him realise where he was. Well, disorientation was very common with craniocerebral injuries, and not being able to see his surroundings was making it even more difficult for this patient to get his bearings.
Quietly, she entered the room, turned on the night light and approached the bed, shaking him gently. 'Mr Caine? Time to wake up. Can you hear me?' Muttering under his breath, he sluggishly opened his eyes. She repeated: 'Mr Caine? It's Nurse Mitchell, the night nurse. I have to check on you every two hours, remember?'
'Yes, I do,' he replied sleepily, but promptly.
Whew! That was easy this time, she thought and asked: 'Are you okay? How's your head?'
'It aches a bit, but not too much. The pain is tolerable.' She was about to leave when he added, 'Could I have something to drink? I'm thirsty.'
'Sure, I'll get you some water. I'll be right back.'
While the nurse was away, Peter tried to remember the dream she had just interrupted. It had been a pleasant one. But now it was gone. He couldn't remember a thing, just a lingering sense of contentment, even happiness. Too bad the dream was over! He could do with a bit of happiness in his present situation. No, that was unfair – he had been happy today when his family had come to see him. His discussion with Annie had meant a lot to him. Before, he had been petrified, thoroughly daunted by his situation; but the moment he had uttered his fears, they had become less paralysing and seemed to shrink to something he might have a chance to cope with. Feeling his family's support, knowing he wasn't alone in this predicament had made all the difference to him. It had put him at ease, he'd even been able to tease his sisters. Thinking of those relaxed moments made him smile even now.
The nurse returned and helped him drink a little. Then she left, bidding him good night. He heard her switch off the light and close the door. Her steps faded away, his eyelids grew heavy and he gave up the fight to stay awake, letting himself sink into the velvet blackness of deep sleep.
* * *
Chapter 7
The morning promised to become a day just as fine as the previous one. When she got out of her car at the visitors' car park, Mary Margaret Skalany was unconsciously humming a tune she had just heard in the radio. She was on her way to work so she did not have much time, but before she began another long day at the precinct she wanted to see Peter and find out how he was doing. And this time she had no intention whatsoever of letting herself be put off again, especially since she had learnt from Dr Sabourin the previous evening that Peter had already had visitors.
When she reached the information desk, the nurse in charge told her that the rounds were taking place right now, but if she cared to wait for a few minutes, she'd be able to see her partner soon. Would she please take a seat in the waiting area?
Shortly afterwards, Mary Margaret gently knocked at Peter's door, turned the door-knob and entered. He was lying in his bed, with his eyes closed, pale, looking exhausted. This impression was yet increased by the white hospital clothes he was still wearing; they made him look very vulnerable, totally unlike the dynamic, reckless Peter Caine she knew. This sight dreadfully reminded her of his last dangerous accident when a conscienceless kidnapper had almost killed him a few months ago.
Peter had turned his head towards the sound of the steps and was opening his eyes, but Mary Margaret noticed immediately that he could not see her. So she said quickly, 'It's me, partner. Mary Margaret.'
His face brightened, and he smiled. 'Mary Margaret!'
She sat down on a chair beside his bed. 'How are you doing?'
'Could be better. My head's aching, in spite of all the pain killers they're giving me. I'm feeling sick and also kind of dizzy 'cause of the medication, and I still can't see a thing. That drives me crazy! Talking to voices without knowing what people look like is totally weird. And all the "normal" things like eating or drinking are suddenly a huge problem.'
To attenuate these sombre words, he grimaced and continued, trying for a nonchalant tone, 'Then again, I guess I'm lucky just the same; Dr Sabourin and her team ran a lot of tests yesterday, and none indicated physical damage of any kind, so they say that the chances are excellent that my sight will return soon and that I'll make a full recovery. I just need to be patient.'
He made a face. 'As if patience ever had been my strong point.'
'No, definitely not,' Mary Margaret smiled. 'But I'm very glad to find you alive and conscious. You know, you gave us quite a shock yesterday! And when I saw your Stealth...' She shuddered in remembrance, then continued, 'Speaking of which – it has been taken to the police garage, and you'll have it back as good as new in no time. Since you had been on the way to the precinct, it practically was an accident at work, so Metro is going to pay for the repair.'
So far, Peter had completely forgotten about his car, it being the least of his worries. Still, it was good to know that he didn't have to do anything about it. He thanked Mary Margaret for telling him, but then another thought crossed this mind. He asked, 'How come you're still here? Didn't you want to go to your parents' place last night right after work?'
'Yeah, but that was before I called them on Christmas Day and my mother accidentally let slip that cousin Michael and his wife Trudy were coming to stay with us until New Year. As much as I like Michael – but Trudy and me, well, that's something completely different. We just don't get along. She's a stupid cow (pardon my French), just the sort of pseudo-modest, 'all-for-my-family' type of busybody-housewife that makes my teeth itch. And as if that by itself weren't bad enough, my mother simply loves her – it's Trudy this, Trudy that all the time, she's the role model of a "modern lady" as Mom puts it. Horrible! Know what I mean?'
Peter's previous encounters with Mrs Skalany had given him a very good idea of her hopelessly old-fashioned opinion about a woman's role in life. Apart from that, he could detect a clear undertone of irritation in Mary Margaret's voice where she normally bore her mother's little peculiarities with good humour. So he confirmed: 'Yeah, I think I get the picture. And now you've told your Mom you wouldn't be coming – I bet she didn't take that very well, did she?'
'Oh... well... it wasn't exactly like that..' Mary Margaret hesitated, now sounding definitely guilty. 'At first I was too surprised and angry to say anything. I thought about it for a while, 'cause I was in a kind of dilemma. You know – should I stay here and annoy my parents or rather go to see my family and risk permanent arguments with Trudy, spoiling everybody's holiday mood? But before I had come to a decision you had the accident and... and when I recovered from the shock I... I found that this was the perfect excuse for staying here. So I called Mom and told her that I'd stand in for you and wouldn't be able to see them until New Year.'
Peter was stunned. At first, he didn't know whether to be mad at his colleague for exploiting his accident in such a way or to admire her for finding a simple solution that would help her without disgruntling her parents. Then his sense of humour kicked in, and he grinned broadly. 'So I saved your day, didn't I? Jeez, your mother must be mad at me 'cause I ruined her plans! Next time we meet she'll probably bite my head off.'
'Oh no, on the contrary! You know she's got a soft spot for you, and when she heard that you risked your own life to save the little girl's, she was all admiration. And, can you believe it?, for once she completely agrees with me that I simply have to help out, even if that means cancelling private plans for my police work. This is definitely a first.'
They chatted for a few more minutes until it was time for Mary Margaret to leave. 'OK, partner, I'll see you tonight after work. – Oh, and I forgot to relay to you that the precinct gang send their best. I'm sure that they'll all call on you, too, now that you're allowed to have visitors.'
Peter grinned. 'Sounds like a busy day. Thanks for coming by, partner.'
* * *
While driving from the County General to the 101st precinct, Mary Margaret couldn't help thinking of her conversation with Peter. He had been greatly altered, completely different from the dynamic, energetic hotshot cop she knew. She had visited him in hospital often enough – his reckless ways sometimes seemed to downright attract the villains' bullets – but usually he was more than eager to leave hospital and get back to his normal life, often risking overexerting himself because he ignored the doctors' orders.
Not this time, though. He was uncommonly acquiescent, the shock of losing his sight and a feeling of being isolated from the rest of the (sighted) world by the dark void that enveloped him dominated his thoughts; at the same time, it had lowered his defences, permitting a glimpse at his soft, caring, vulnerable side which he normally concealed very carefully behind his reputation as daredevil and womaniser.
*** Flashback ***
'You know what my father always says about negative emotions like fear or anger? "Do not fight them, embrace them and then let them go." But I can't do that, at least not yet. I mean, I can admit my fears that I might remain blind, no matter what the doctors say. But embracing them or even letting them go – that's something entirely different. That's asking too much of me, I'm not ready for that.'
Moved by this rare openness on his part, Mary Margaret laid her hand on his and pressed it slightly.
Smiling wanly, Peter continued, 'Before Annie came to see me yesterday, I had been totally wrapped up in desperation. Since then, I'm more optimistic – Dr Sabourin is an excellent physician, after all, and I do trust her. But it's very difficult to be positive if you're constantly reminded that you need help for every little thing you want to do. I can't help it, I just keep wondering if I'll ever be able to do that on my own again...'
He broke off, just as if he had said too much, betrayed too much of his inner turmoil. Mary Margaret did not dare break the silence, confining herself to pressing his hand, showing him without words that she understood his feelings, certain that Peter, in turn, knew what she wanted to communicate.
At last, Peter simply said, 'Thank you, partner'.
*** End of flashback ***
Mary Margaret arrived at the precinct, parked her car and entered the building. At the front desk, she saw Officer Meyers talking to a man standing with his back towards her. She was about to pass the pair of them, nodding to Meyers, when the other man turned. She recognised the father of the girl who had caused Peter's accident the day before. She stopped and, extending her hand, said, 'Oh, good morning, Mr – Carruthers, isn't it? I'm detective Skalany. We met briefly at the scene of the accident. How's your daughter?'
He replied, shaking her hand, 'Hello, detective Skalany. Celia's doing ok, thanks for asking. She had a nightmare about the accident last night, but that was to be expected. I think it will take some time until she really gets over the shock. Apart from that, she's perfectly fine.'
'Well, that's good to hear,' said Mary Margaret. 'I hope she'll get over it soon.'
A little hesitantly, he asked, 'I'm afraid I didn't notice very much of what was going on yesterday, I was too busy comforting my daughter. But I think I remember that you went to the hospital to find out how the driver of that Stealth was doing, didn't you? Please, do you know anything about his condition? The doctor in charge wouldn't tell me anything yesterday, only that the young man wasn't allowed to have visitors. That didn't sound very reassuring to me; I fear he might be more badly injured than I thought at first.'
He sounded so anxious that Mary Margaret proposed, 'The driver is my partner, Detective Caine. I've just been to the hospital to see him, so why don't we go over to my desk? We can have a cup of coffee and talk.'
She led him to her desk and provided a chair for him. 'Please, take a seat. I'll get us some coffee. – Cream? Sugar?'
He smiled wearily. 'That's very nice of you, detective. Black is fine.'
When Mary Margaret returned with two mugs of coffee and handed one of them to him, he looked imploringly at her and said, his voice laced with worry, 'Please, tell me – how badly is he injured? Will he be okay?'
She tried to comfort him, answering, 'Apart from severe concussion he's unharmed, and yes, he will be OK.'
I pray to God that this is true.
Having automatically held his breath, Robert exhaled, relieved. 'That's good news, thanks a lot for letting me know! I could never forgive myself if it were otherwise. After all, everything's my fault.'
Mary Margaret was stunned. 'What gave you that idea?'
Robert looked down at his coffee. 'For a few moments, I was distracted, so I noticed too late that Celia had seen a friend across the street. If I had only been more attentive and had reacted sooner then I could have held her back and prevented her from running at your partner's car. I don't dare to think what might have happened if the car had been a bit faster, or if your colleague had reacted just a little bit more slowly. And now he's in hospital because of my carelessness.'
The thought had never occurred to Mary Margaret; she was puzzled, and so it took a few seconds before she could reply. 'Don't blame yourself for what has happened. I don't think that you could have foreseen, let alone prevented it. Children are sometimes unpredictable, especially when they are as young as Celia and have no notion of the dangers of traffic.'
Looking doubtfully at her, Robert shook his head. 'Nice of you to say that, detective, but it is my fault... I can't get that picture out of my mind... the sight of the young man lying unconscious in his car...' He shuddered, then asked again, hopefully, longing for confirmation: 'And he will really be ok?'
'Yes, if Dr Sabourin says so then he will be fine. She's an excellent physician.' Mary Margaret hesitated, then decided it would be wiser to tell the whole truth. 'However, I should add that it might take a while. Concussions are never to be taken lightly, and in Detective Caine's case it's very severe. He has temporarily lost his sight, and although it's most likely just a matter of days before he can see again the doctors don't know when this is bound to happen. And even afterwards, he might suffer from distorted vision for some time. That's what Peter, er, Detective Caine, told me this morning.'
Celia's father turned pale, an expression of horror in this face. 'Oh my God, are you telling me that he is blind? And,' he swallowed, 'that he might possibly remain so? Forever?'
'The chances for that are very very low, I think there's no need to worry about that. But, yes, at the moment he's blind.'
bout that. But, yes, at the moment he's blind.'