Growing Pains III:
The Spirit of Christmas
By
Debbie Kluge
Part I
Hark! The herald angels sing,
"Glory to the newborn King.
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled."
Barbara sighed as the joyful sound reached her. Carolers . . . again. Through the closed door of her office, she could hear her staff greeting the newcomers cheerfully and their laughter just seemed to feed into her general feeling of depression.
What is wrong with you? she demanded of herself with a touch of anger. You don't sit around and mope like this. You love Christmas. Go out and join Kathy and Nikki . . . say hello to the people who stopped in to wish you happy holidays. They cared enough about you to go to the trouble - the least you can do is thank them!
But still she sat, staring out the window at the snowflakes that drifted by, unable to rouse the ambition to get out of her chair. It had been snowing gently for the last hour . . . the first real snow of the season. The flakes were large and wet and they were sticking where they fell so that most everything now had a uniform coating of white. It was only about five degrees below freezing, however, so the streets were staying clear and Barbara could hear the joyful sounds of children playing in the snow.
Somehow, time had slipped away from her this year and now here it was, two weeks away from Christmas and she hadn't done anything. Her house wasn't decorated, her tree wasn't up, her baking wasn't done, and she hadn't even started shopping yet.
Maybe I just won't bother this year, she thought suddenly. It's an awful lot of trouble when there's only me. That thought conjured memories of earlier days . . . times when her parents were still alive . . . when her brother and sister-in-law were still around. But her parents had died long ago and once they were gone, so was her brother.
Half brother, she reminded herself. Davis was your half-brother . . . a fact he pointed out frequently during those last couple of years. Barbara sighed and sat forward, automatically starting to pick up the clutter on her desk. Deep in her heart, she knew what the problem was. Christmas was a time for family . . . something she no longer had. Unfortunately, she had become deeply involved in someone else's family troubles in recent months and she let herself get swept away . . . let herself get too close . . . to care too much. And now she was paying the price.
She needed to find something . . . do something . . . that would snap her out of the mood she'd been in recently. Most of the people around her didn't realize she'd been down, as she'd taken great care not to let it show. But the truth was, the last three months had been tough. Knowing he was going to die -
"NO!" she whispered sharply, jerking as if she had just been burnt. "Don't go there . . . don't even think about it!
'Or is that the problem?' the familiar little voice whispered. 'You're running away . . . refusing to acknowledge the way you feel.'
"Go away, I know what I'm doing!" she replied.
But the little voice was insidious, just as it had been every day for the last two months. It simply wouldn't leave her alone. 'You need to face it and decide what you want to do.'
The problem was, she knew exactly what she wanted to do . . . she wanted to go out to his house, walk straight up to him, grab him, and kiss him senseless. But wanting to do it and actually following through . . . well, that was an entirely different matter.
'Tell him.'
"I'm his doctor. It's not professional."
'Your feelings for him aren't professional. Tell him.'
"He's been through too much recently. He doesn't need anything else to worry about."
'He needs to know someone loves him. Tell him.'
"He still loves his wife."
'She's been dead for over ten years. Tell him.'
"And what if he doesn't feel the same?"
'You're a coward . . .'
Yes. Yes, she was. The idea of losing him entirely was simply more than she could bear.
"We're friends . . . good friends," she whispered to that little voice. "That's enough."
'Is it? Or it that just a lie you tell yourself to avoid dealing with the situation? What do you tell your patients when they feel this way? Physician, heal thyself. Tell him.'
As if on cue, an elegant dark gray Mercedes sedan rolled to a stop on the street in front of her building. It was perfectly framed in the window of her office, as if the little voice in her head had conjured it up to make her do something about the situation. Sudden panic caught at her as she realized that he was waiting for traffic to clear so he could make a left turn into her office parking lot. He was coming here.
I can't face him, she thought frantically. Not now . . . not like this!
Leaving everything where it lay, she leaped up, snatched her coat and purse from the rack beside the door, and ran for the back exit into the staff parking lot.
"I had no idea what time it had gotten to be," she said breathlessly to her nurse, Kathy Stephens, as she paused in the doorway to their small, in-house pharmacy. "If I don't leave right now, I'll never get any shopping done! Just leave the patient files on my desk and I'll come in sometime tomorrow and finish."
Kathy laughed. "Go on. I've got a little more to do here and then I'm on my way out, too. You have a great weekend."
"You, too!" Barbara replied and fled out the back just as she heard the bell on the front door jingle. The indistinct sound of his warm, friendly voice was cut off abruptly as she eased the door closed and moved hastily toward her car without a backward glance. A few seconds later and she was out of the parking lot and heading northbound on a narrow residential street that was comfortably out of sight of her office.
'Now what?' her little voice asked her. 'You've run away from him again. Are you going to keep running for the rest of your life?'
"Shut up!" she snarled.
But one thing was certain. If she was serious about avoiding him, she couldn't stay in Rockport. This was the third time this week that he'd come looking for her, and he was just stubborn enough that when he found he'd missed her again, she was sure he would go searching. And unless she wanted to have the dreaded conversation, she needed to make herself scarce for a while.
"Christmas shopping," she told herself firmly. "Somewhere away from here."
Three hours later found her standing on a street corner in downtown Bangor, loaded down with brightly wrapped packages, boxes, and bags. She was also feeling substantially better. Getting out among the cheerful, bustling crowds in the brisk winter air had invigorated her and she could feel her normally cheerful attitude returning.
Shifting her packages slightly, she reached into her coat pocket, searching for her car keys. She groped awkwardly, muttering to herself in vexation as her gloves made the process difficult. She squirmed slightly, trying to shove her hand deeper as the ring of keys slid away from her. Just as she finally found them, her slight movements and gravity combined to cause her load of gifts to slip. Her desperate attempt to save them from falling was thwarted when her hand became tangled in her pocket and she tottered unsteadily, thrown off balance by the shifting weight and her trapped hand. Then, her foot slipped in the wet snow and she fell backwards. She let out a small scream, the packages sailing in all directions, as she tried to brace herself for the fall . . . but it never came. Strong arms caught her around the waist and pulled her into a firm embrace. She came to rest with her back and shoulders pressed against a body she didn't have to see to recognize. She knew his scent by heart. She turned her head to look up at him and he was so close that her breath ruffled the silky red hair of his beard as it brushed against her cheek and temple tantalizingly.
Benton Quest grinned down at her. "Just in time to save the day, I think."
"You certainly were," she agreed breathlessly. "I would have been picking myself up out of the snow if you hadn't been so quick. Thank you."
"You're welcome." He set her carefully on her feet once more and then surveyed the packages strewn at their feet. "Better these than you. Hopefully nothing's broken." He leaned down and began gathering them up.
"I may have to rewrap a few of them, but there was nothing breakable, thank heavens. Here, let me help you with that . . ."
"That's okay. I think I've got them all. Where's your car?"
"Up the block and around the corner," she replied and reached for her keys again. Then she stopped and grinned at him. "No, that's what started the whole problem." She pulled off her glove and retrieved them easily this time, holding them out and shaking them so they jingled cheerfully.
"Ah, the sounds of Christmas," he said with a laugh. "Lead the way and let's get rid of these." They walked up the street quietly for a moment before he added, "You're a hard woman to get hold of these days, you know that?"
The easy camaraderie of the moment before quickly fled, and her laughter felt awkward as she replied, "It's been busy, there's no doubt about that. Must be the season."
"It must be. I ran by your house last night and it was totally dark. You don't even have your decorations up."
"I know. I feel so bad about that, but it seems like there just aren't enough hours in the day any more."
"You're working too hard, Barbara," he said in friendly concern. "You need to back off a little . . . give yourself a break."
"Look who's talking," she replied as she opened her trunk so he could put the gifts inside.
He chuckled as he straightened again. "Pot calling the kettle black? Yes, I know. I'm just as bad as you are, but that means I can recognize the signs. Have you ever considered adding a doctor to your practice? It might help with the workload."
"I've considered it. Well, thank you so much for the rescue, but I won't -"
"You really think I'm going to let you get away from me now that I've finally caught up with you? Not a chance. I just spent the last three hours searching Rockport and the surrounding towns to locate you, and you are now mine for the rest of the day."
"But -"
"No 'buts'. I have it on good authority that you deliberately rearranged your schedule to have this afternoon off so that you could go Christmas shopping. Since that's something that I also need to do, I figure we can brave the crowded shops together. It's much more fun with company and it will give us a chance to talk." Then he cocked his head and looked at her with a suddenly thoughtful expression. "Unless you don't want to spend the time with me . . ."
Oh God, if you only knew, she thought despairingly, but thankfully her little voice kept its opinions to itself. "Don't be silly! Why wouldn't I want to spend time with you?"
His face cleared and he grinned boyishly at her again. "Good! So is there anything else that you want to get here?"
"No, I think I've exhausted all the stores in the area. Where do you need to go?"
"Actually, I thought we'd run your car back to Rockport and drop it off, and then head for Augusta. There's a shop there that carries specialty baby furniture and I'd like to get Race and Estella a cradle for Emily. There's also that gaming shop that Jonny likes so well."
"All right. I'll take this stuff on home and you can pick me up there."
"Good. We'll just plan to have dinner and make an evening of it."
"It sounds wonderful. I'll see you at my house in about half an hour."
"I'll be there."
As she climbed into her car and started the engine, she considered what she had just agreed to. The idea of spending the evening with Benton Quest threw her into such turmoil that she didn't know if she would be able to focus her attention enough to drive. But there was no getting out of it now. She just had to find a way to cope.
"That was wonderful," Barbara said, laying her napkin on the table and leaning back with a contented sigh. "I didn't realize I was that hungry."
"Shopping is hard work," Benton said solemnly, but when her eyes met his, she saw the impish twinkle in them again.
"Oh, absolutely. And we worked very hard this afternoon," she replied with equal gravity. Then she laughed and reached across the table to lay her hand on his. "But honestly, thank you. I don't think I realized just how much I really needed the break. It's been a delightful afternoon and evening, and I actually think I managed to get everything on my list."
"You're very welcome."
It had been a wonderful day. For a time, she waited for him to question her about why she'd been avoiding him, but he never did. Instead, the time had been filled with easy laughter, lighthearted conversation, and that growing feeling of good will she had always associated with Christmas. They had gone from store to store, searching for things that both of them wanted and impulse buying when something struck their fancy. They had spent some time in the park in downtown Augusta watching the children's Christmas pageant, and as dusk fell, they walked arm-in-arm along the Festival of Lights avenue - the old Victorian neighborhood not far from downtown Augusta where all the houses were decorated with lights for the holidays. They finished off the day in the best restaurant in town with a leisurely dinner. All in all, things had been just about perfect.
Barbara watched as he toyed with his wineglass, swirling the deep ruby contents as he stared at it with a thoughtful expression. "Actually," he said carefully, "I needed to talk with you about something."
Barbara could feel herself tense immediately. Oh no, please. Don't spoil it. "Of course. What is it?"
Benton sighed and leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table, but he never took his eyes off of the wine glass. "I need your advice."
"About what?"
Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, and she was struck by the sadness in it. "Jessie." Carefully, he set the glass down and clasped his hands in an almost prayerful gesture. "I don't know what to do to reach her, Barbara, and it's killing me."
She leaned forward and laid her hands on top of his, her tension dissipating instantly in the face of his distress. "Tell me."
"I know she was angry over the business with Jonny. From what I remember, she had a right to be. But ever since I woke up again, I've tried so hard to make it up to both of them. Jonny and I . . . well, it was tough at first. Things were so up and down. One minute we would be fine, and the next, I would say something that struck a nerve and he'd go sullen and defensive . . . But we've worked through most of that. I still talk with him every couple of days and that helps keep us on an even keel. But with Jessie, it's been different. She probably hasn't said a dozen words to me since she returned to the States, and when I make an effort to speak to her, she will go so far as to flatly refuse. I simply don't know what to do any more."
Barbara sighed regretfully, thinking of Race's comment months before about his daughter's tendency to hold a grudge. "How much has come back to you of the time leading up to your collapse, Benton?"
Withdrawing his hands from hers, he gestured vaguely before picking up his wine glass again and taking a sip from it. "It's getting better, but things are still pretty fragmented. I remember the last argument with Jonny and how furious Jessie was, if that's what you mean. You can't imagine -"
"Yes, I can. I was there when she called."
"Called?" He blinked. "You were?"
"Yes. Race and I were with you when the call came through." Seeing his bewildered expression, she prompted, "You do remember that it was on the vidphone in the lab, right?"
Benton frowned, obviously trying to sort through the images in his mind. "Yeeeesss," he said very slowly. Then he shook his head sharply. "No. I guess I don't have any real memory of the setting. It's mainly her face and the words we exchanged. Funny, the images I have of her are so clear, but Jonny . . . I can't seem to envision his face during that argument at all. I just assumed she was in the lab with me . . . that both of them were."
"No," Barbara replied regretfully, "she called on the vidphone from Boston."
"So Jonny wasn't there either?"
"No, which explains why you can't recall any images of him. Neither of them were living at home, and they hadn't been since the previous May. It all happened over the phone. None of us know for certain how Jess found out about your blow-up with Jon, but it's fairly certain she wasn't there at the time it happened."
"How do you know?"
"You talked to him around 7:00 in the morning, but Jessie didn't call until shortly after noon. Her fury was too fresh for it to have simmered for five hours." She shook her head sadly at his bewildered expression. "Race hasn't told you anything about what went on during the time you were ill, has he?"
Benton shook his head, sitting back in his chair and taking a large swallow from his wine glass. "No. At least, no more than he's absolutely had to. When I've asked, he's always told me that the memories will come back in their own good time and there's no need to push them if they aren't ready to surface."
"Up to a point, he's right. But it's also true that if you're worrying at them . . . trying to force them to come back out of a need to deal with their repercussions, and they aren't being cooperative, then you probably do need some help." She watched as he refilled both of their glasses and then continued quietly. "One thing you have to understand, Benton. It took quite a while for any of us to realize there was something wrong with you. The damage Smallwood's chip did was insidious. Initially, you seemed perfectly all right in most respects. The only obvious difference was in the way you were treating Jon. We all knew you were struggling with the idea of him growing up, and when you lessened your emotional hold on Rachel last Christmas . . . well, to be honest, we chalked it all up to a bad case of empty nest syndrome."
Benton nodded. "I can understand that."
"You hadn't been looking very well, but we just assumed that you were working too hard. It wasn't until March, when your interference in Jon's admission to MIT came to light, that warning bells began to go off. But even then we were unsure what to do. Jon withdrew emotionally, and because Jessie was forced to pick a side, she withdrew right along with him. Your attitudes toward each other just kept feeding the problem. Add to it that you kept insisting there was nothing wrong with you and not allowing me to search for a cause, and we had the perfect recipe for disaster."
"And disaster was what we got," he replied resignedly.
"We certainly did." Barbara shook her head sadly. "Benton, throughout all of this, Race and Estella both worried that Jessie would lose her temper with you. Race says she holds grudges. I don't think it's anything she can control . . . it's just her nature."
"Race has a streak of that in him, and so does Estella," Benton acknowledged wearily.
"Yes, and with everything else, your fight with Jon was obviously the last straw. It all came apart. But I honestly believe that it's not irreparable. It's going to take time, yes, but I think that she'll come around eventually."
"How do I prove to her that I'll never let it happen again? Barbara, I miss her. I don't think I realized how attached I'd become to her until this all happened. She's like a daughter to me and it hurts almost as much to have her estranged as it does my own son."
"I know, but I think you're doing all you can. Jessie may be stubborn, and she may hold a grudge, but she is also eminently fair. Prove to her that it was the illness that caused your behavior and that you'd never willingly hurt Jon again, and she'll come around."
Benton sighed and leaned back in his chair. "God, I hope so."
She contemplated him for a moment. "Are they coming home for Christmas?"
"Jonny says they are . . . unless Jessie finds some reason to beg off. He's been back several times since October, including at Thanksgiving, but Jessie's always found a reason not to come along."
"Then all you can do is keep working at it. I know that she cares about you, Benton. Just give her time and don't push, and eventually she'll forgive you."
He nodded and then drained his glass and set it on the table. "And what about you?" he asked quietly. "Will you ever forgive me for whatever it was I did to you?"
The question caught her totally off guard. In the face of his obvious concern about his kids, she had totally forgotten that she had been trying to avoid the subject of their relationship. She fumbled around, sputtering and searching for some kind of safe reply, but before she was able to find one, he interrupted her.
"Since the day my family and I moved to this area, you've been a friend. I could always rely on you to give me a straight answer to anything I needed to know, no matter how bad it might be. Please, Barbara, don't stop being honest with me now. Whatever it was, I'm truly sorry, and I'll do whatever it takes to make it right."
Barbara leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table and resting her head in her hands for a long moment. The she exhaled sharply and looked up at him. "It's not you, Benton. You didn't do a thing. It's me. I'm just . . . I don't know . . . off balance, I guess is the best description. I'm trying to come to terms with things, but I'm having a hard time."
"What kind of things?" When she didn't answer immediately, he reached across the table and caught her hand, refusing to release it when she tried to free herself. "Don't pull away from me. We're friends and I don't want to lose that. Tell me what it is that has you so muddled. Maybe, between the two of us, we can figure it out."
She stared down at their linked hands, the pain and desire twisting inside her until her stomach ached. Finally, with nowhere left to run, she decided that she'd start with at least part of the truth and just see where things went.
"We've been friends for a long time," she said slowly, "but I'm not sure I realized how close to your family I'd become until you got sick. It was as if I had a family for the first time since I lost mine. Your illness affected me in ways it shouldn't have . . . as your doctor, I mean," she added hastily when she saw his startled expression. "I lost my objectivity, Benton. I was so desperate to find a solution that I wasn't able to distance myself. And then . . ." She could feel tears rising and she fought against them, as Benton tightened his grip, caressing her arm soothingly with his other hand. It was the last thing she needed right then, but she couldn't pull away without being violent about it, which would only raise further questions. Reaching up she swiped at her eyes and was appalled to find them wet. She cleared her throat and forced herself to continue. "At the end, I - I gave up. When it came right down to it, I sided with Race and supported his push to enforce your living will."
"There was nothing else you could have done," he told her.
"If I'd been more objective -"
"If you'd been more objective," he replied, cutting her off, "I would have been dead long before Jonny managed to figure out the solution. It was your willingness to keep trying that gave him the time he needed. You can't blame yourself for that."
"And then, when he found a way to bring you back . . . and you were . . . I - I didn't know how to feel. I'd already started to grieve, and then there you were, dazed and confused, but so obviously your old self . . . making cracks about Jon's hair, and . . . and . . . Oh God . . ."
The breakdown she'd been fighting against these last weeks was coming. She could feel it. And she was with him, and out in public . . .
"Let's get out of here," Benton said gruffly. Yanking out his wallet, he threw a handful of bills on the table and rose swiftly, putting an arm around her shoulders and guiding her quickly toward the door. When the maitre'd would have stopped them, Benton waved him off with words she couldn't hear through the roaring in her ears. She felt him throw her coat around her shoulders and then they were out into the cold night air. She heard him speak to someone again, and then he said to her, "Put this on. You're going to freeze." How she managed to hold it together for as long as she did, she really didn't know, but the minute the lights of the restaurant faded, the dam burst and she started to sob uncontrollably.
Benton pulled over, shut the car off hastily, and gathered her into his arms. He held her, crooning nonsensically as the emotional storm peaked and finally passed. Eventually, she was quiet once more, feeling somehow numb and disconnected, as she rested against him with her head on his shoulder.
'Well, at least you finally ended up where you've wanted to be for so long,' her irritating little voice said to her.
"Shut up," she muttered to it softly.
"What?"
Horrified at the thought he might have heard her, she pushed away, sat up and tried to wipe her face with her hands.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured in embarrassment as he produced his handkerchief and handed it to her. "You didn't need this."
He reached out and tilted her head up until she looked at him. In the dim light of a nearby streetlight, she could see him smile. "I am not going to break," he told her gently. "You are all trying so hard to protect me, but it really isn't necessary, you know. I'm a lot tougher than you seem to think I am."
"I'm sorry," she repeated and she heard him sigh in exasperation.
"You know, I'm going to forbid everyone I know from using those two words around me ever again. Between the boys, Race and Estella, and now you . . . I swear. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, Barbara. No one knows better than I do the kind of emotional upheaval my youngest son is capable of causing. And when you put him together with his brother . . . well, to say chaos generally ensues is putting it mildly. But I want you to understand something clearly. I am alive today in large part because you cared enough to rally to us when we needed you. I can't begin to imagine the toll this entire mess has taken on you . . . having to play the roll of doctor, friend, advisor, social worker, mediator, and God knows what else during the last year. But I am more grateful than I can possibly express."
She sniffed, blotting her eyes, and forced herself to say, "I - I should recommend a new family physician -"
"No!" he replied sharply, sounding decidedly shaken. "Absolutely not. You're my doctor and I won't accept anyone else."
"But -"
"I won't hear another word about it, Barbara, so let's just drop it." He smiled at her encouragingly. "Okay?" When she nodded, he put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug before turning and starting the car again. "Would you like some coffee before we head back to Rockport?"
She shook her head wearily. "No, I don't think so, Benton. To be honest, I'm absolutely exhausted. I really think I'd rather just go home."
"Home it is," he said agreeably. "Why don't you just relax and see if you can rest on the drive back." He leaned forward and pushed a button, causing the in-dash CD player to light up. After a moment, soft music filled the car and she recognized the soft strains of the jazz of Dave Brubeck. Obediently, she leaned back into the soft seat and before she knew it, she'd dozed off.