From: krk1@pyuxe.cc.bellcore.com (knights,katriena r)
Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative
Subject: The Sins of the Father - PART IV
Message-Id: <1993Apr23.201017.28652@porthos.cc.bellcore.com>
Date: 23 Apr 93 20:10:17 GMT
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The Sins of the Father

by

Katriena Knights

PART IV

****

The next twenty minutes were the longest Sam had ever experienced.  
When he finally heard the sirens outside, he thought he 
was dreaming.  Then he heard someone banging at the door.

Kelly looked up from the book.  "I'll let them in."

Sam started to reach out to stop her, but she was already halfway 
down the stairs.  He watched her from around the door frame as she 
circumvented her father's body and went to the front door.  Four 
white-coated paramedics came in, carrying two folded gurneys.  
Behind them was a pair of police.

"It's my mom and dad," Kelly told them.  "My dad fell down the 
stairs.  He's hurt real bad.  Mom's upstairs.  She says she thinks she 
has a concussion."

"Thank you," said the paramedic.  He peered up the stairs.  "Mrs. 
Cole?"

"I'm here," Sam answered.

"Mrs. Cole, we're going to have to move your husband off the 
staircase before we can get to you.  Just hold still."

"Okay."  Sam crawled out of the bathroom to the landing.  His head 
was starting to clear.  Now he just felt disassociated.  Looking down 
into the living room, he saw one of the cops -- a woman -- taking 
Kelly to one side to talk to her.

"Is she gonna be all right?" Sam asked Al.

The observer had settled down on the floor next to him.  He 
consulted the handlink.  "I'm not sure.  Obviously you saved Kelly 
and Laura's lives, but we're not sure yet what happens next."

Sam nodded.  At the foot of the steps, the paramedics had 
transferred Michael to the gurney.  Two were coming up the stairs to 
collect Sam.

"How's Michael?" Sam asked them.

"We're don't know yet, Ma'am.  Someone will give you a report as 
soon as we can."  He shone a penlight into Sam's eyes.  "Can you tell 
me what happened?"

"He was beating me and I kicked him down the stairs," said Sam 
bluntly.

The medic lowered the light, staring at his patient frankly.  "Well, 
good for you," he said.

Sam looked away, uncomfortable.  The medic turned his attention to 
the scalp wound.  "You have a concussion, Ma'am.  You'll probably 
have to spend the night at the hospital.  Is there someone we can call 
to take care of your little girl?"

"Marcia," Sam answered.  "Kelly's friend next door."

The man nodded.  "All right, Ma'am.  We'll take care of everything.  
Thank you."

****

Sam woke in the hospital bed to see Al lying on his side, asleep, two 
feet above the floor.  The observer had stayed by Sam's side through 
the ambulance ride, the examination and diagnosis, and Sam 
remembered seeing him off and on through the night when the 
nurses had come to wake him up every few hours.  Sam sat up 
carefully.  He had an excruciating headache.

"Al?" he whispered.  "Al, wake up."

Al stirred, then opened his eyes.  "What time is it?"

Sam looked at the clock on the table.  "9 am.  Have you been here all 
night?"

Al sat up, rubbing his eyes.  "Yeah.  I wanted to be sure you were 
okay."

"Maybe you should get up and go eat."

Al waved him off.  "I snuck out for something a couple of hours ago.  
I'm all right.  How about you?"

"My head feels like someone's running a jackhammer in it."

Al stood and poked at the handlink, putting himself back into proper 
alignment with his surroundings.  "Why don't you buzz the nurse?"

Sam was certain there were ulterior motives behind Al's suggestion, 
but he supposed it didn't really matter.  He needed something for his 
head.  He pushed the button that summoned the nurse.

She came almost immediately.  Al looked crestfallen; she was an 
older woman and not at all like Al's preferred buxom blonde.

"About time you woke up," she said, giving Sam a friendly smile.  
"How are you feeling?"

"I have a headache?"

"How bad?"

"Very bad."

"Well, let's see what I can do for that."  She consulted Sam's chart.  
"I'll be right back."

When the nurse was gone, Sam turned to Al.  "How's Michael?  Do 
you have anything?"

"I was over to see him while you were asleep.  He's in pretty bad 
shape."

"Is he going to make it?"

Al gestured to the door.  The doctor was coming in, followed by the 
police woman Sam had seen talking to Kelly.  "I think you're about to 
find out."

"Mrs. Cole," said the doctor.  "You look much better.  The nurse said 
you have a headache?"

"Yeah," said Sam.  "Can I get something for that?"

"She'll be here in a minute with a painkiller.  I can't give you 
anything too strong because we need you to stay awake for about 
twelve more hours."

Sam waved that off.  He knew the standard treatment for possible 
concussion.  "How's my husband?  Is he all right?"

The doctor looked reassuring, but didn't quite muster a smile.  "We're 
still running tests.  I'll let you know as soon as we know anything.  In 
the mean time, do you feel up to talking to the police?"

"I don't know, Doctor.  Do I?"

"Well, normally I would say no, but because of the situation I said 
they could talk to you if you were willing."  The nurse poked her 
head back in, handing the doctor a paper cup of pills and another of 
water.  The doctor handed them to Sam.

"I suppose I could answer a few questions."  He took the pills, hoping 
they would work.  What he really wanted was a good dose of 
codeine, but, as the doctor had said, that would be dangerous at this 
stage.

The doctor turned to the police woman.  "All right, you can talk to 
her, but try to keep it as brief as possible."

"Thank you, Doctor."  She stepped up to the bed.  "Hello, Mrs. Cole.  
I'm Officer Denton.  I'd just like to talk to you about what happened 
last night."

"Of course, Officer," Sam said.  He shifted and Denton moved quickly 
to help adjust the pillows.  "Thank you."  Denton sat down in the 
chair next to the bed.  Behind her, the doctor moved back against the 
wall, but did not leave.  "Mrs. Cole, I'd just like you to tell me exactly 
what happened.  How was your husband hurt, and how were you 
hurt?"

Sam glanced at Al, who nodded encouragement.  "I . . .   Well, I guess 
I should start at the beginning."

"It's okay, Mrs. Cole.  Take your time."

Sam hesitated, collecting the memories.  He had a sudden, strange,
 twisted feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he didn't want to 
remember.  He clenched a handful of sheet in his fist.

"Michael . . . Michael is very volatile.  He had beaten me two nights 
ago when I tried to take Kelly and go to my mother's."

"Why were you going to your mother's?"

"I was trying to get away from him.  I was afraid he was going to kill 
me."

Denton nodded.  "And last night?"

"Last night he wanted . . . he wanted to make love, and I told him I 
didn't feel like it."

"So he beat you?"

"No.  He said . . ."  Sam swallowed.  His breath was coming shorter 
and shorter as he forced his way through the story.  During the event 
he had been too concerned about keeping himself alive to worry 
about anything else.  Now he found himself back in the middle of it, 
but this time emotion was flooding in from every direction, and he 
couldn't control it.

"You okay, Sam?"  Al asked.

Sam nodded.  "I'm sorry, Officer," he managed.  "I just . . .  Could I 
have a glass of water?"

"Sure."  Denton got up and went into the bathroom.  She came back 
with a paper cup.  "Here."

"Thanks."  Sam drank, collected himself, and went on.  "Michael said 
that if I wouldn't give him what he wanted, he would find it 
somewhere else.  He went upstairs, and at first I thought he was 
going to get his coat, and leave the house.  Then I saw that he was in 
Kelly's room . . ."

Denton's reaction was controlled, but Sam could see the tightening 
around her lips and eyes.  "What did you do then?"

"I went upstairs and told him to leave her alone.  I said . . . 
something . . . I don't remember.  Just something to get his attention 
away from her.  The next thing I knew, he was beating me again . . . "  
Sam looked away from Denton, down at his hands.  He had crushed 
the paper cup in his fist, and both hands were clenched and shaking.  
The pain in his head had risen to a blinding stab through both 
temples and between his eyes.  He choked on nothing, then forced 
himself to go on.  "He had me pinned to the floor . . ."

"Sam."  Al's voice was quiet from the other side of the bed.  "Verbena 
said last night that you might have a delayed reaction to the trauma.  
That's all this is.  You're gonna be okay."

Sam gasped, suddenly realizing that the thick lump in his throat was 
tears.  Denton was leaning closer to him, then reached out and gently 
touched his arm.

"Mrs. Cole, I'm sorry to put you through this, but I have to know.  
How did your husband get hurt?"

"I kicked him down the stairs."  Sam could barely force the words 
out.  "He . . . he tried to rape me.  I kicked him down the stairs."

The doctor had stepped forward.  "I think that's enough for now.  She 
needs to rest."

Denton stood up.  "Thank you, Mrs. Cole.  That's all I needed to 
know."  She turned to the doctor.  "I may need to see her again later."

The doctor nodded.  "See me first."

The handlink squealed and Al poked at it, turning a little away.  The 
doctor knelt next to Sam's bed.

"Go ahead and try to get some sleep," he said.  "Your nurse will be in 
every few hours to wake you up, like we did last night."

Sam nodded.  "Thanks."

"Call the nurse if you need anything."  He took a last look at Sam's 
chart, then left.

"Sam," Al said then, "Verbena just asked me to see her.  Will you be 
okay by yourself?"

"I'll be fine," Sam said sharply.  "Just do whatever you have to do."

Al nodded.  "Hang in there, kid."

Sam turned away as Al departed, ashamed of his own tears.  He had 
a sudden urge to roll over and cry into his pillow.  _You're acting like 
a girl_, he told himself, but that didn't stop the pain.  Finally, unable 
to suppress the flood of emotion any longer, he pressed his face into 
the mattress and wept.

****

A nurse shook him gently awake two hours later and talked to him 
for a few minutes.  Sam had no idea what she said, and drifted back 
to sleep shortly after she left.  Later, he woke again to find that Al 
had returned.

"I'm sorry," Al said around his cigar.  "Did I wake you?"

"I don't think so," said Sam, although he thought he could remember 
the sound of the Imaging Chamber door intruding on a dream.  His 
face felt stiff and sore, but the headache had diminished.  "What's 
going on?"

"I just saw Verbena.  She says Laura's doing okay, and now that 
Michael's . . . out of commission . . . it's probably safe for her to come 
back."
"So why am I still here?"

"I don't know.  Ziggy thinks it has something to do with Kelly.  Or 
maybe Laura just needs a little more time . . ."  He broke off, looking 
at Sam.  "Or maybe you need a little more time to heal up."

"Do I look that bad?"

"You look pretty bad.  How's your head?"

"Better."  He pushed himself to a sitting position, then carefully 
swung out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To the bathroom," Sam answered testily.  "Do you mind?"

"No, go ahead.  Oh, Sam, you're gapping a little bit back there."

Sam gave him a dark look, but pulled the back of his hospital gown 
shut.  "Thank you, Al."

Al shrugged.  "Sorry.  Just thought you might like to know."

Shaking his head, Sam continued on his way to the bathroom.  The 
mirror above the sink showed him the reason for Al's concern.  His 
face -- or Laura's face -- was heavily bruised and swollen.  Carefully, 
he explored the injuries by touch, walking his fingers over his own, 
larger features.  They didn't feel as bad as they looked.

He was washing his hands when he heard someone enter the room.  
"Mrs. Cole?" called the doctor.

Sam poked his head out.  "I'm in here," he said.

"You're feeling better, I take it?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Why don't you come over here and sit down.  I need to talk to you."

Sam glanced at Al, feeling suddenly apprehensive.  "About Michael?"

"That's right.  Come on, sit down."  His voice was gentle -- that alone 
made Sam expect to hear the worst.  He walked across the room to 
the bed and sat down.

"Your husband was very seriously hurt," the doctor said.  "His neck 
was broken in the fall."

Sam winced.  "Is he going to be all right?"

"He's going to live.  But he may never walk again.  In fact, we're not 
sure he's going to regain any mobility below the neck."

"Oh, God," Sam breathed.  "This is my fault.  I shouldn't have . . ."

"Mrs. Cole," the doctor broke in, "I know I have no right to judge you 
or your husband, but I don't see where you had much choice.  Now, 
I've been speaking to a few people in our psychiatric ward, and I'd 
like you and your daughter to see them.  I think it would be a great 
help to you."

Sam nodded.  "All right."

"In the mean time, your husband is going through a great deal right 
now.  It's entirely up to you how you want to handle this.  You can 
give him your support, or you can walk away.  No one is going to 
force you into either decision."

"I should . . ."

The doctor cut him off with a movement of his hand.  "I'd really like 
you to talk to Dr. Wingate before you decide anything.  He'll be 
dropping by this afternoon.  Now, there's one more thing.  Officer 
Denton is here with your daughter.  She'd like to speak to both of 
you.  If it's all right with you, I'll send them in after I leave."

"That would be fine."

After a quick examination, the doctor told Sam he was mending 
satisfactorily, and left.  Al stepped closer to the bed, puffing 
contemplatively.

"I don't think this is what was supposed to happen." Sam said.  

"You should have killed him," Al stated flatly.

"Al!"  Sam was appalled at Al's reaction.  "What happens to him?"

Al consulted the handlink.  "He regains partial use of his arms, but he 
never walks again.  Three years from now, he OD's on sleeping pills."

"He dies?"

Al nodded slowly.

"Do you think I can change that?" Sam asked.

"Do you think you want to?"

Sam let his head fall back to the pillow.  "I don't know.  I . . ."  He 
broke off.  Denton was coming into the room, holding Kelly's hand.

"Mommy!"  Kelly cried.  She ran to the bed and Sam hugged her.

"You okay, sweetie?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Mom,"  she answered.  "How are you?"

"I'm doing better."

"Did the man hurt you, too?"

Sam frowned.  "Man?  What man?"

Denton sat down next to Sam's bed.  "That's what I'm here to talk to 
you about.  I asked Kelly to tell me what happened last night, and 
her story was a little different from yours."

Al poked at the handlink, then shrugged.  "I don't know what he's 
talking about.  The police reports don't say anything about Kelly's 
story."

"What did you tell Officer Denton, Kelly?"  Sam asked.

Kelly pushed closer to the bed, as if seeking reassurance.  "I told her 
about the man that came and beat Daddy."

Sam looked at Denton, confused.  Denton touched Kelly's shoulder 
gently.  "Why don't you tell your mom what you told me this 
morning, okay?"

Kelly nodded.  "I was in my room, and Dad came in and said he was 
going to tell me a story.  Then this man came in and started shouting 
at Dad.  Dad hit him, and there was a big fight, and then Dad fell 
down the stairs.  I came out of my room and Mom was on the floor in 
the hallway and she was bleeding a whole lot.  I thought the man 
hurt her, too."

Sam was staring at the little girl.  Al had started abusing the 
handlink, fishing for enlightenment from Ziggy.  "What did the man 
look like?" Sam asked.

Kelly shrugged.  "He was shorter than Dad, and he had brown hair . . .  
He was really angry."

"Do you remember anything else?"

"He had white in his hair."

"You mean he had grey hair?  Like your grandmother?"

"No, just one white spot.  Right there."  She pointed to her forehead.  
Sam looked over his shoulder at Al.  Kelly was too old to see Sam 
automatically as he really was, but something must have happened 
to short out her ability to see Laura's aura.  Certainly Michael had 
seen Laura.  Al gave him another helpless shrug.

"Mrs. Cole," said Denton, "I think you can see why I wanted to talk to 
you again.  Was there anyone of this description in your house last 
night?"

"No," said Sam.  "The only people there were me, Michael and Kelly."

Denton nodded.  "Kelly, could you wait in the hallway?  I'll be done in 
a minute, and then you can talk to your mom, okay?"

"Okay."

Denton waited until Kelly was gone, then addressed Sam.  "I talked to 
a Dr. Wingate about this.  He thinks that Kelly made up this man 
because she didn't want to remember that you hurt Michael."

"So all this is just a figment of her imagination?"

"Sort of.  The way he explained it was as a psychological protection 
device.  She can't bear the thought of her mother hurting her father, 
or vice-versa, so she invented this strange man to help her deal with 
it."

Sam nodded.  "I see."

"I just had to be sure, for the records."

"Yes.  I understand."

"Well, I'll be leaving you alone now, Mrs. Cole.  I may have to get 
back to you later, but for now I think I'm through here.  I hope 
you're feeling better soon, and I'm sorry about your husband."

"Thanks."

"It's about time, Ziggy," Al muttered.  Sam turned to him 
questioningly.  "Ziggy says it's possible that you were so angry that 
your emotional reaction shorted out Laura's aura enough so that 
Kelly could see you."

"What about Michael?  Michael didn't see me."

"Michael's not as susceptible, because he's an adult.  Kelly's still 
young, so she was able to see through you -- so to speak -- for those 
few minutes."  He consulted the handlink again.  "In fact, Ziggy says 
that might have been the best thing, because now, like the shrink 
said, she has this protection device on her memory, so she'll be able 
to deal with it a little better."

"What happens to her, Al?"

"Let's see . . .  Kelly does okay.  She's in college right now.  Laura 
divorces Michael, and she's still single, but it looks like she's okay, 
too."

"But Michael commits suicide."

Al shrugged.  "That's what Ziggy says."

Sam took a breath, trying to convince himself he had done 
everything he could.  Kelly came back into the room, went to the 
chair and sat down.

"You're gonna be all right, aren't you, Mom?" she asked.

"I'm going to be fine," said Sam.

"What about Dad?  The doctor said he can't walk or move his arms 
anymore.  What's going to happen to him?"

"I don't know what to tell her," Al said in response to Sam's look.

Sam put his arms out and Kelly jumped up onto the bed where he 
could hug her.  He pulled her close.  "Kelly, you're dad's been hurt 
very badly.  He's going to need a lot of help before he can be okay 
again.  He probably won't ever be able to walk.  But if we help him, 
he might be able to be happy."

"Can the doctors keep Dad from being mad and hitting you?"  Kelly 
asked.

Sam hugged her tight.  Trust a child to come right out and ask the 
hard questions.  "They might be able to.  I'm sure they'll do 
everything they can."  A thought formed, out of nowhere.  He leaned 
back and looked at Kelly.  "Kelly, I want you to promise me 
something."

"Okay."

"Promise me that you'll remind me about what I just said to you."

"You mean that if we help Dad, he can get better?"

"Right.  You promise?  You might need to tell me a few times, but I 
think it's really important.  And it's important that you and I see Dr. 
Wingate, too."

Kelly nodded.  "Okay.  I liked Dr. Wingate.  He was nice."

"Good."  He heard the handlink squeal as he hugged the little girl 
again.

"Hey, Sam," said Al.  "You changed history again.  Now Michael 
doesn't commit suicide.  It turns out he has some kind of chemical 
imbalance, plus he was abused as a kid, so he gets treatment and he 
goes into social work.  And get this -- Laura marries Dr. Wingate."

"That's great," said Sam.  Suddenly it all seemed worth it.

"What's great, Mom?" asked Kelly.

"That we're all going to be all right," he said.  He hugged her again, 
feeling the tug of the coming leap.

"I know that, Mom," said Kelly, and then her voice broke apart into 
the familar buzz and sparkle, and Sam leaped.

FINIS

-- 
-----
Katriena Knights
"I don't mind being in touch with reality, as long as I don't 
have to live there."