Author: Robyn Carr
“What’s going on?” Al asked.
“No idea,” Eric said, making a T-turn to head after Justin. And man, could that kid run, even wearing his station coveralls and steel-toed boots, he was like the damn wind. When the Jeep came up behind him and Eric gave the horn a blast, Justin didn’t even slow down.
“Pull alongside,” Al commanded, lowering his window.
Justin had already run through town, past the diner and sheriff’s office, three more blocks and up the hill.
“Justin!” Al yelled, leaning out the window. “Get in! We’ll drive you!”
But the kid didn’t even slow down. He just kept running, pumping his arms, panting, his floppy hair slicked back with wind and sweat. Uphill, and still flying.
Al pulled back inside. “Just follow him,” he told Eric.
“What the hell is he doing?”
“We’ll find out soon enough. We either let him wear out or I get out and chase him and tackle him and I’m not doing that. Follow him.”
So, driving about five miles an hour, Eric followed behind Justin for a few more blocks, then the kid cut across some lawns to get to a very small house in the middle of the block. Justin’s van was in the driveway but another newer car was parked in front. Justin crashed through the front door.
“I guess we’re here,” Al said.
Eric parked his Jeep and the two men walked up the driveway to the front door, which still stood open, and what they could see inside was shocking. The small living room was dominated by a hospital bed and Dr. Grant was sitting on the edge of the bed. There was a wheelchair, oxygen tank, other hospital paraphernalia. Dr. Grant had his stethoscope in his ears and was listening to the woman’s heart. Oxygen was being administered and the woman’s eyes were closed. Justin leaned over her from the other side of the bed, panting. He tenderly touched her forehead while two younger boys stood off to the side, worry etched into their features.
Dr. Grant took his stethoscope out of his ears and looked at Justin. “I’m afraid this is the end of the line, Justin.”
Oh, shit, she’s dead! Eric thought.
Then the doctor continued. “I called for an ambulance. She has to go to the hospital. She’s breathing better now, but she needs close medical supervision.”
Justin swallowed and said, “Then she comes home, right?”
“Come on, Justin. You gave it your best shot. Your mother needs a full nursing-care facility. We can try to get her a bed. This is end stage. Her quality of life will be improved in a care facility. And so will yours.”
Justin gave a short, bitter laugh. “Not for too fucking long!” he barked.
“I give you my word, I’ll do everything I can to help DHS find you boys a place together. I know right now you think it’s the end of the world, but this can work out. You can’t take on any more.”
“Six months, that’s all I need! Six months and I’m eighteen and—”
“Just being eighteen doesn’t guarantee you’ll get parental custody of the boys.”
“There isn’t any other family,” Justin said. “It has to be me!”
“We’ve talked about this. I’m going to step outside and wait for the ambulance while you talk to your brothers. You have to stay calm now, son. Don’t get your mom upset with a lot of emotion. Remember what I told you—you’ll have a little time. This isn’t going to happen overnight.”
Scott Grant draped the stethoscope around his neck, picked up his bag and stepped past Eric and Al and outside. Eric and Al followed him.
“What the hell?” Eric said.
“Justin’s mother is sick,” Scott said. “She has MS. She’s had it for a long time and she’s not going to get better. She’s been virtually bedridden for over a year now.”
“And Justin takes care of her?” Eric asked.
“He takes care of her days and the younger boys keep an eye on her when Justin works, but there’s also home health care. There’s a visiting nurse who looks in on them regularly and I check on her all the time. Justin wants to do the right thing for the family but I think the strain of what this is doing to her sons is also showing on her.”
“He takes care of her days,” Eric said. It was not a question.
Scott nodded.
“He dropped out of school. I should’ve known.”
“He just wants to keep the family together, but I think his decision to do that was as hard on Sally as anything. I found him a laptop and we got the GED information downloaded, if he ever has time to concentrate. He wanted to make it to eighteen, gainfully employed, so he could take on the house and his brothers. So they could be together.”
Eric frowned and shook his head. “How’s he going to manage all that on a service station attendant’s salary?”
“The family gets help from the Department of Human Services. Food stamps, health care and supplemental income, that sort of thing. It’s not a lot but it keeps body and soul together. But DHS is going to want to take over, get those younger boys placed in foster care. I can stall for a while—Justin and his brothers have been running that house for a long time, they’re capable. If I don’t place Sally in a facility right away, and in fact I might not be able to—it’s all about available space—DHS will have to be patient. But they’ve been ready to pounce for a long time now.”
“Are you telling me that three young boys are able to stay on their own with an invalid in the house, but they can’t stay alone without all that responsibility and stress?” Al asked Scott.
“The invalid mother is not only over twenty-one with a sound mind and their biological parent, there is also a doctor and home health-care nurse on the scene regularly.”
“What about Justin?” Eric asked.
Scott shrugged. “They might give him six months of foster care, but at eighteen, that program closes for him.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?” Eric asked. “I asked him if his mother was sick and he said she was tough. I saw him buying groceries in Bandon and he said he’d taken a day off from school to take her to the doctor. He said she was in a wheelchair and I thought maybe an accident or... Why didn’t he tell me the situation?”
“For the same reason he uses his food stamps in Bandon, Eric. He doesn’t want anyone’s pity. He doesn’t even shop for food in town. He’s a proud, strong, devoted young man.”
Al was scowling. “Where’s their father?”
Scott shook his head. “I have no idea. Maybe Justin knows, but he’s pretty bitter about his dad leaving them when his mother was sick. I haven’t had any luck getting that information out of him. And I couldn’t tell you if finding the father would be good for the family or only make things worse.”
They chatted for a while longer and finally a county ambulance pulled up to the house followed by Mac in the sheriff’s department SUV.
“No lights or siren,” Eric observed.
“It’s medical transport not an emergency. If you call 911 you get the fire department’s rescue squad.”
“I heard Justin tell his brother to call 911.”
“He called me first—I got here fast. He didn’t need rescue. Sally was having trouble breathing but didn’t need resuscitation.”
Just as he said that a couple of ambulance EMTs with a gurney passed them on the way to the front door. “Hey, Doc,” one of them said.
“Hey,” he returned. “I’ll follow you to the hospital, get Sally admitted. She’s stable at the moment but she needs the oxygen. She’s recovering from pneumonia—a complication of her MS. She shouldn’t need an IV until we get her to the hospital.”
“Thanks. We’ll see you over there.”
Mac joined them. They all kind of stood around, saying nothing, until the EMTs emerged from the house with a woman still wearing the oxygen cannulas, sitting upright on the gurney.
Eric looked at Mac. “She’s not doing very well. She’s being taken to the hospital.”
“So I heard,” Mac said.
* * *
When Al and Eric got back to the station, everything was fine. Howie was under control, pumping gas like mad. And Al said, “Listen, I know it’s your night to bug out early while Justin and I manage things, but I need a couple of hours.”
“For?” Eric asked.
“None of your business, but I’m not going to rob an armored car or anything that would reflect badly on you.”
“You’re going back there,” Eric said.
“I think someone should and I think it shouldn’t be you.”
“Why not? Seriously, I’ve been looking out for the kid since I hired him and—”
“And he thinks we have a common enemy—the boss. Let me go.”
“I’m not the enemy!”
“I know that, but he’s got a bomb inside him. Come on, try to remember how little sense the world made when you were his age—try to remember how many innocent people you thought were plotting against you. He’s a mess. He didn’t ask for the mess, either.”
Eric thought about that for ten seconds. “Yeah. Go. Take all the time you need. We got this. And if you see a chance, tell him I’ll do anything I can to help.”
“Sure I will,” he said. Al grinned. “You and Howie got the station. Have fun.”
Al took off before Eric could think of something more to ask or say. He went back to the Coastline, where he’d left his truck, and drove first to the pizza place, ordered two big ones, then returned to Justin’s house. The door was now closed. In fact the place looked sealed up, but the van was still in the drive. He knocked.
Justin opened the door with a snarl on his face. Oh, man, this was one tough customer.
“What do you want?” Justin asked.
Al shrugged. Okay, he thought, I’m balancing two large pizza boxes on one hand.... “Well, I invited a few friends over to your place for pizza, I hope you don’t mind.” Justin started to close the door and Al put his foot in the way. “I want to talk to you.”
That sneer didn’t go away. “I have food, you know.”
“But do you have this kind of food? Because I never met a young man in my life who didn’t like pizza. Jesus, can I come in? You’re being such a pain in my ass!”
“Then just go away.”
Al pushed his way inside. The younger boys were sitting at the table, where there were three glasses of some kind of liquid, no ice. It looked like a meeting had been taking place. He put the pizza boxes on the table. “One is pepperoni and sausage and some other stuff and the other one is just lots of cheese because I wasn’t sure what would float here. Maybe someone could get me a drink or something? Whatever that is you’re drinking?”
“It’s Kool-Aid,” Justin said. “We were just talking. Then we might head over to the hospital. But I’ll call Eric, tell him I can’t work....”
“Justin, he’s not expecting you to come back to the station tonight. I think he’s pretty clear you’ve had some crazy stuff going on.” He opened the top box. “Kool-Aid is great.”
Justin sighed. “Al, this here is Danny. He’s fourteen. And this is Kevin. Twelve. Guys, this is Al Michel. The guy I told you about. I work with him.”
They each said, “Hi.” Very quietly.
Al nodded at them, then opened the two pizza boxes. “Dig in.”
“Thank you,” two quiet voices said.
And a glass of Kool-Aid was placed before Al by Justin. “Sit down, son,” Al said. “I’m not dangerous. And I’m not going to injure your pride, which is about the size of the Pacific Ocean.”
“What’s going on?” Al asked.
“No idea,” Eric said, making a T-turn to head after Justin. And man, could that kid run, even wearing his station coveralls and steel-toed boots, he was like the damn wind. When the Jeep came up behind him and Eric gave the horn a blast, Justin didn’t even slow down.
“Pull alongside,” Al commanded, lowering his window.
Justin had already run through town, past the diner and sheriff’s office, three more blocks and up the hill.
“Justin!” Al yelled, leaning out the window. “Get in! We’ll drive you!”
But the kid didn’t even slow down. He just kept running, pumping his arms, panting, his floppy hair slicked back with wind and sweat. Uphill, and still flying.
Al pulled back inside. “Just follow him,” he told Eric.
“What the hell is he doing?”
“We’ll find out soon enough. We either let him wear out or I get out and chase him and tackle him and I’m not doing that. Follow him.”
So, driving about five miles an hour, Eric followed behind Justin for a few more blocks, then the kid cut across some lawns to get to a very small house in the middle of the block. Justin’s van was in the driveway but another newer car was parked in front. Justin crashed through the front door.
“I guess we’re here,” Al said.
Eric parked his Jeep and the two men walked up the driveway to the front door, which still stood open, and what they could see inside was shocking. The small living room was dominated by a hospital bed and Dr. Grant was sitting on the edge of the bed. There was a wheelchair, oxygen tank, other hospital paraphernalia. Dr. Grant had his stethoscope in his ears and was listening to the woman’s heart. Oxygen was being administered and the woman’s eyes were closed. Justin leaned over her from the other side of the bed, panting. He tenderly touched her forehead while two younger boys stood off to the side, worry etched into their features.
Dr. Grant took his stethoscope out of his ears and looked at Justin. “I’m afraid this is the end of the line, Justin.”
Oh, shit, she’s dead! Eric thought.
Then the doctor continued. “I called for an ambulance. She has to go to the hospital. She’s breathing better now, but she needs close medical supervision.”
Justin swallowed and said, “Then she comes home, right?”
“Come on, Justin. You gave it your best shot. Your mother needs a full nursing-care facility. We can try to get her a bed. This is end stage. Her quality of life will be improved in a care facility. And so will yours.”
Justin gave a short, bitter laugh. “Not for too fucking long!” he barked.
“I give you my word, I’ll do everything I can to help DHS find you boys a place together. I know right now you think it’s the end of the world, but this can work out. You can’t take on any more.”
“Six months, that’s all I need! Six months and I’m eighteen and—”
“Just being eighteen doesn’t guarantee you’ll get parental custody of the boys.”
“There isn’t any other family,” Justin said. “It has to be me!”
“We’ve talked about this. I’m going to step outside and wait for the ambulance while you talk to your brothers. You have to stay calm now, son. Don’t get your mom upset with a lot of emotion. Remember what I told you—you’ll have a little time. This isn’t going to happen overnight.”
Scott Grant draped the stethoscope around his neck, picked up his bag and stepped past Eric and Al and outside. Eric and Al followed him.
“What the hell?” Eric said.
“Justin’s mother is sick,” Scott said. “She has MS. She’s had it for a long time and she’s not going to get better. She’s been virtually bedridden for over a year now.”
“And Justin takes care of her?” Eric asked.
“He takes care of her days and the younger boys keep an eye on her when Justin works, but there’s also home health care. There’s a visiting nurse who looks in on them regularly and I check on her all the time. Justin wants to do the right thing for the family but I think the strain of what this is doing to her sons is also showing on her.”
“He takes care of her days,” Eric said. It was not a question.
Scott nodded.
“He dropped out of school. I should’ve known.”
“He just wants to keep the family together, but I think his decision to do that was as hard on Sally as anything. I found him a laptop and we got the GED information downloaded, if he ever has time to concentrate. He wanted to make it to eighteen, gainfully employed, so he could take on the house and his brothers. So they could be together.”
Eric frowned and shook his head. “How’s he going to manage all that on a service station attendant’s salary?”
“The family gets help from the Department of Human Services. Food stamps, health care and supplemental income, that sort of thing. It’s not a lot but it keeps body and soul together. But DHS is going to want to take over, get those younger boys placed in foster care. I can stall for a while—Justin and his brothers have been running that house for a long time, they’re capable. If I don’t place Sally in a facility right away, and in fact I might not be able to—it’s all about available space—DHS will have to be patient. But they’ve been ready to pounce for a long time now.”
“Are you telling me that three young boys are able to stay on their own with an invalid in the house, but they can’t stay alone without all that responsibility and stress?” Al asked Scott.
“The invalid mother is not only over twenty-one with a sound mind and their biological parent, there is also a doctor and home health-care nurse on the scene regularly.”
“What about Justin?” Eric asked.
Scott shrugged. “They might give him six months of foster care, but at eighteen, that program closes for him.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?” Eric asked. “I asked him if his mother was sick and he said she was tough. I saw him buying groceries in Bandon and he said he’d taken a day off from school to take her to the doctor. He said she was in a wheelchair and I thought maybe an accident or... Why didn’t he tell me the situation?”
“For the same reason he uses his food stamps in Bandon, Eric. He doesn’t want anyone’s pity. He doesn’t even shop for food in town. He’s a proud, strong, devoted young man.”
Al was scowling. “Where’s their father?”
Scott shook his head. “I have no idea. Maybe Justin knows, but he’s pretty bitter about his dad leaving them when his mother was sick. I haven’t had any luck getting that information out of him. And I couldn’t tell you if finding the father would be good for the family or only make things worse.”
They chatted for a while longer and finally a county ambulance pulled up to the house followed by Mac in the sheriff’s department SUV.
“No lights or siren,” Eric observed.
“It’s medical transport not an emergency. If you call 911 you get the fire department’s rescue squad.”
“I heard Justin tell his brother to call 911.”
“He called me first—I got here fast. He didn’t need rescue. Sally was having trouble breathing but didn’t need resuscitation.”
Just as he said that a couple of ambulance EMTs with a gurney passed them on the way to the front door. “Hey, Doc,” one of them said.
“Hey,” he returned. “I’ll follow you to the hospital, get Sally admitted. She’s stable at the moment but she needs the oxygen. She’s recovering from pneumonia—a complication of her MS. She shouldn’t need an IV until we get her to the hospital.”
“Thanks. We’ll see you over there.”
Mac joined them. They all kind of stood around, saying nothing, until the EMTs emerged from the house with a woman still wearing the oxygen cannulas, sitting upright on the gurney.
Eric looked at Mac. “She’s not doing very well. She’s being taken to the hospital.”
“So I heard,” Mac said.
* * *
When Al and Eric got back to the station, everything was fine. Howie was under control, pumping gas like mad. And Al said, “Listen, I know it’s your night to bug out early while Justin and I manage things, but I need a couple of hours.”
“For?” Eric asked.
“None of your business, but I’m not going to rob an armored car or anything that would reflect badly on you.”
“You’re going back there,” Eric said.
“I think someone should and I think it shouldn’t be you.”
“Why not? Seriously, I’ve been looking out for the kid since I hired him and—”
“And he thinks we have a common enemy—the boss. Let me go.”
“I’m not the enemy!”
“I know that, but he’s got a bomb inside him. Come on, try to remember how little sense the world made when you were his age—try to remember how many innocent people you thought were plotting against you. He’s a mess. He didn’t ask for the mess, either.”
Eric thought about that for ten seconds. “Yeah. Go. Take all the time you need. We got this. And if you see a chance, tell him I’ll do anything I can to help.”
“Sure I will,” he said. Al grinned. “You and Howie got the station. Have fun.”
Al took off before Eric could think of something more to ask or say. He went back to the Coastline, where he’d left his truck, and drove first to the pizza place, ordered two big ones, then returned to Justin’s house. The door was now closed. In fact the place looked sealed up, but the van was still in the drive. He knocked.
Justin opened the door with a snarl on his face. Oh, man, this was one tough customer.
“What do you want?” Justin asked.
Al shrugged. Okay, he thought, I’m balancing two large pizza boxes on one hand.... “Well, I invited a few friends over to your place for pizza, I hope you don’t mind.” Justin started to close the door and Al put his foot in the way. “I want to talk to you.”
That sneer didn’t go away. “I have food, you know.”
“But do you have this kind of food? Because I never met a young man in my life who didn’t like pizza. Jesus, can I come in? You’re being such a pain in my ass!”
“Then just go away.”
Al pushed his way inside. The younger boys were sitting at the table, where there were three glasses of some kind of liquid, no ice. It looked like a meeting had been taking place. He put the pizza boxes on the table. “One is pepperoni and sausage and some other stuff and the other one is just lots of cheese because I wasn’t sure what would float here. Maybe someone could get me a drink or something? Whatever that is you’re drinking?”
“It’s Kool-Aid,” Justin said. “We were just talking. Then we might head over to the hospital. But I’ll call Eric, tell him I can’t work....”
“Justin, he’s not expecting you to come back to the station tonight. I think he’s pretty clear you’ve had some crazy stuff going on.” He opened the top box. “Kool-Aid is great.”
Justin sighed. “Al, this here is Danny. He’s fourteen. And this is Kevin. Twelve. Guys, this is Al Michel. The guy I told you about. I work with him.”
They each said, “Hi.” Very quietly.
Al nodded at them, then opened the two pizza boxes. “Dig in.”
“Thank you,” two quiet voices said.
And a glass of Kool-Aid was placed before Al by Justin. “Sit down, son,” Al said. “I’m not dangerous. And I’m not going to injure your pride, which is about the size of the Pacific Ocean.”
