Chapter Four - Death Before Guilt

I woke up 2 days later in the hospital.  My eye-lids felt heavy and the surrounding lights were blinding.  It felt like morning, although I’m sure it wasn’t.  My head still ached, but not terribly.  I could feel that there was a large bandage on my forehead.  I looked down at the rest of my body and noticed my left arm was in a cast from the forearm down.  Sam was in the corner of the room sound asleep in a chair.  It made me smile a little.  I could always count on him to be there in times like these. 

         I looked over at my side and noticed a small vase with flowers in it, resting on the nightstand.  The vase had a one-sided ‘get well’ card attached to it.  It read:

“See, I told you so.”  -Lara

         “Hey there chief!”  Sam said, getting up.

         “Hey.” 

         “Man, ‘bout time you woke up.  You gotta see this one nurse, she’s smok-“

         He stopped his sentence just when a really attractive nurse walked in.  Her blonde hair was pulled back, but yet had a few various strands dangling about, refusing to be held by the large clip in back.  I was pretty sure she had heard Sam’s comment. 

         “This one?”  I said to him, chuckling.

         “Yeah.”  He said, embarrassingly turning back towards his seat in the corner. 

         “Mr. Winter, glad to have you back.”  She said.

         “Didn’t know I was gone.”  I said.

         Sam opened the curtains allowing the afternoon sun to pour over the room. 

         “You’re a lucky man.  Someone’s watching over you.”  She said, feeling my wrist, checking my heart rate.  Shortly after, she checked my blood pressure.

         “The doctor will be with you shortly.  He’ll be able to answer any questions you might have.”  She said.

         “Thank you.”  I said.

         Sam then watched her walk out, mouthing the words ‘wow’.  I laughed.

         “What the hell happened man?”  Sam asked.

         “I remember getting a call from you.  On the way to your house, I came up over the hill and this deer was right in the middle of the road.  I swerved to miss her and-“

         All the thoughts of that night came rushing back.  I remember Lara pulling me out of the car and the explosion.  I remember the things I said to her, and I felt embarrassed.

         “Yeah, you hit a tree doing sixty man!  At least, that’s what I calculated from the marks on the pavement.”

         “Yeah, I remember.”  I said.

         “You’ve been out for two days.  I’ve been checking in on you when I can.”  He said.

         Two days had gone by.  But the pain from Jeniveve’s death came surfacing again, as if it had just happened.  The sadness was starting to overwhelm me again.

         “Good thing that lady found you man.  You might have died out there.”  He said.

“No.  I died three days ago Sam.  I feel like an empty shell just going through the motions.”  I said, looking out the window from my bed.

“I know man.  I’m sorry.  I loved Jeni too.”  He said. 

I looked back up at him and the tears became un-fightable.  He too had started to sniffle, but tried very hard to hide it. 

“She wouldn’t want us crying for her.”  He said, trying to fix his crackling voice.

“I know.”  I said, clearing my throat.

Jeniveve was one of the most positive people I had ever met.  No matter what had happened, instead of focusing on the negative, she’d dwell on positive solutions.  She was hardly ever angry, and when she was, it was justified towards a higher means.  All she ever wanted was to help people in any way she could.  The reward she got from that was knowing she made a difference through her efforts.  That was her purpose in life, she used to say, to help.  Maybe that was part of the reason for my rage and pain.  How could someone do that to her?  An angel.  My angel.  When angels are so rare to begin with. 

Sam walked up to my right side and picked up my hand.

“We’ll get through his man.  I promise.”  He said, with serious eyes. 

“We’ll find out who did this and why.  We’ll make them pay.”  He finished.

His words found their way to my stomach, where the anger and rage still sat stirring, like a pot of boiling water about to go over its rim.  But the words calmed the waters and the temperature began to cool slightly.  I believed him.  I had to.

“Would you two like to be alone for a little while?”  A female voice said from behind. 

Sam turned around dropping my hand.  It was Lara. 

“Hey!”  I said. 

I was happy to see her, yet embarrassed again at the same time, considering the last time I saw her.

Sam turned back towards me, again mouthing silent, the words ‘Oh my God.’

“I’ll give you two some time to catch up.”  He said, walking past Lara with a smile.  I couldn’t help but laugh at him. 

“You look better.”  She said, walking up to me. 

“Thanks.”  I said.

“Listen, I can’t thank you enough for what you did out there.”  I continued.

“It’s okay.  Really.  I’m just glad you pulled through.”  She said, with a sincere smile.

“And, thanks for the flowers.”  I said.

There was an awkward silence between us, as if she was going to say something else but held back.

“Do you mind if I sit down?”  She asked.

“Please.”

She walked over to the chair Sam was sitting in and pulled it up next to the left side of my bed.

“You know, you said some pretty scary things that night.”  She said, sitting down.

“I know.  I’m sorry.  I wasn’t exactly myself.”  I said.

“Are you sure?  You sounded pretty sincere to me.” 

I didn’t say anything.  I couldn’t.  I wasn’t ashamed of the words I had said that night.  But I was thankful to be alive.

“Tell me about your wife.”  She said.

“She was killed three nights ago.  I came home late.  Found a man in my house.  She was trying to fight him off.  I was able to pull him off of her, but it was too late.  She died a little while later.” 

“I am so sorry for your loss.”  She said, covering her mouth.

“Yeah.  Me too.”  I said.

She sat there next to me, with a reaching look on her face, as if she didn’t know what to say next. 

“What happened to the attacker?”  She asked.

“He’s dead.”  I said, looking forward and then down.

“I killed him.” 

Her look changed.  She no longer had the look of someone sympathetic.

“So, you shot him?  I mean, you’re a cop right?”  She asked.

“Yes.  I’m a cop.  But I didn’t shoot him.  I just kept…swinging.”  I said, looking down at both of my hand’s knuckles, which had since scabbed over.  She noticed the marks on my hands and looked back up at me.  A part of me was ashamed of my actions.  I thought that telling her this would change her opinion of me, and make her think of me as a killer.  But that wasn’t the truth.  I wasn’t a killer.  I was just an ordinary man who tried to protect his wife.

         Lara sat for a moment next to me in silence.  She stared at me, trying to read behind what my eyes were thinking.

         “You feel guilty don’t you?”  She asked.  Her words sounded more like a remark than a question.

         “Yeah.”  I said. 

         She looked down for a brief moment and then up at me. 

         “Can I tell you a story?”  She asked.

         “Sure, I’m not going any where.”  I said, trying to smile.

         “I joined the military with my best friend, Maya.  Her and I grew up together.  A few years later they shipped us to Afghanistan.  Our Marine company became stationed there.  Our orders were to go through certain neighborhoods in teams, look for Taliban fighters, arrest them, and if they resisted, well, you know the rest.  My team and I dispatched one afternoon, heavily armed.  We came upon a suspected home where a Taliban leader was allegedly hiding out.  We split up.  A few of us went to the rear of the house while the rest of us including myself, approached from the front.  Suddenly, the front door sprang open and we started taking fire.  Maya and I got low and fired back a few shots, hitting the shooter.  He fell in the doorway, dropping his gun next to him.  We waited a few minutes.  We thought it was over.  We got up off the ground and started walking toward the door, when a kid popped out and grabbed the gun.  He couldn’t have been no more than ten or twelve years old.  He fired rounds at Maya next to me, shouting, ‘You killed my Daddy!”  I dropped to the ground as I saw Maya’s body fall backward, firing my weapon at the kid.  It was a kill-shot.  I didn’t even think.  I just reacted.  It was instinct.  I can still see that child’s face today.  Those images will haunt me to the grave.  I glanced over at Maya afterward, but her body was lifeless.  Just as we had taken the child’s father from him, the child had taken my best friend from me.  Maya died on the way back to the barracks.  I was her commanding officer, and I couldn’t have protected her that day.”

         I was surprised, yet comforted by her story.  I had no idea she was a soldier, much less capable of such an act.  But it did explain her motivation toward getting me to safety that night. 

         “Why did you want to tell me something like that?”  I asked, politely.

         She hesitated, contemplating her response.

         “Aside from the grief from your wife, you feel like you can’t live inside yourself.  You feel alone and isolated.  I guess I just wanted you to know that I can relate.  And, that you’re not alone.  Some people can’t relate to us.  There’s a big difference between knowing and understanding.”

         “Yeah, I know what you mean.”  I said.

          I found an odd comfort in her words.  I was glad she had shared that with me.  A part of me was closer to her for doing so.  I felt welcomed into her life.  Never before had a woman I hardly knew had such an initial impact on me. 

         “Thank you.”  I said.

         She smiled back at me with her sympathetic eyes once more. 

        

         The doctor and Sam came in shortly thereafter. 

         “Mr. Winter.  I’m Dr. Mason.  How are you feeling?”  He asked, crossing his arms over his clipboard.  He stood before the foot of my bed.  He was very tall, and much older than I was.  His gray mustache and hair shined in the sunlight.  He spoke with a British accent.

         “I’ve been better.”  I said, sighing.

         “I’m sure you have.  Put simply Mr. Winter, you are very fortunate to be alive.  Your left lung was punctured and collapsed from a few of your broken ribs.  As you might have seen already, your left arm suffered a compound fracture as well.  You also have a concussion from when your head impacted the windshield.  I’m going to assume you weren’t wearing your safety belt.”  He said.

         I shook my head.

         “Had Miss Matthews not found you when she did, we might not be here having this conversation.”  He finished.

         “When can I expect to be on my feet again Doc?”  I asked.

         “Well, that depends on how you feel really.  Your arm will take five to six weeks to heal before you regain full-use of it.  As for your ribs, I’m going to put you on a weight restriction for the next two months.  I would advise against lifting anything heavier than fifteen pounds.  Your head should feel better in a day or two, and we can give you pain medication as needed.  I’d like to keep you here for a few days if you don’t mind. Just to keep an eye on things.”

         “I can handle anything you need Marty.”  Sam said. 

         “Same here.”  Lara said, looking back at me.

         “The nurses will be checking in on you from time to time, and I’ll stop in every now and again to see how you’re progressing.”

         “Thank you doctor.”  I said.

         “My pleasure.”

         The doctor then walked out and Sam and Lara’s attention turned to me.

         “You’ll be up around in no time.”  Sam said. 

         “Yeah, just in time for a funeral.”  I said.

         “Marty, we’ll help out in any we can, okay?”  Lara added.

         “Sam, does my father know I’m here?”  I asked.

         “Yes, he stopped in earlier today.  I’m assuming he’ll be back later, which reminds me…Lara would you mind if I spoke with Marty for a moment?”  Sam said.

         “No, not at all.  I have some things I need to take care of at home anyway.”

She turned to me and put her hand on my arm.

         “I’ll come see you later.”  She said.

         “Thank you, again, Lara.”  I said. 

         Lara smiled at me disappearing around the corner, while Sam went to sit in the chair next to me. 

         “I found out a few more things about your father and Turnovsky.  The afternoon before your accident, I went to the library and dug into the microfilms from back in ’92.”  He said.

         “What did you find?”  I asked.

         “Your father testified at Turnovsky’s trial.  According to the papers, he defended him rigorously to the end.”  Sam said quietly.

         “You’re damn right I did.”  A voice said from the doorway.  It was my father, Dayton Winter.  Sam looked over at me, surprised at his appearance, as well as his remark. 

         “Dad?”  I said.

         “How are you doing kid?”  He asked.  He looked tired and worn out.  He wore a brown leather coat and blue jeans.  His longer gray hair was in desperate need of grooming.  He reminded me of Sam Elliott. 

         “Doing okay, I guess.”  I said.

         “Martin, I’m so sorry about Jeniveve.  She was such a good person…to all of us.”

         “Yeah…thanks.”  I said.

         “Sammy, you mind if I talk to my son alone for a minute?”

         Sam looked at me for an approval to what he was requesting.

         “Dad, what you say to me, you can say in front of Sam.”  I said.

He hesitated briefly, while glancing at Sam.

         “Alright then.”  He said, clearing his throat. 

         “I know this isn’t the best time to tell you this Marty, but I thought you should know.” 

There was another pause.

“Your mother…she passed away last week…I’m sorry.”  He said. 

         Oddly enough, what he said didn’t change the way I was already feeling.  It was almost as if I had become numb.  

         “I think you’ve got a handle on this one Marty.  You don’t need me here for this.”  Sam said, walking out.

         “How did you find out?”  I asked.

         “Just some old friends.  Word gets around.”  He said.

         “What happened?”  I asked, not really wanting to know the truth.

         “Alcohol poisoning.”  He said, walking over to the chair. 

         “There’s a shocker.”  I said.

         My father sat down next to me slowly. 

         “Your mother was many things, but she was still your mother.”  He said, slightly raising his voice.  This was about where the argument would begin, as they had many times before.

         “She stopped being my mother when she left 15 years ago, without so much as a note or a phone call, Dad.”  I said.       

         “The fact remains.”  He said.

         “Yeah, it does.  She was a lying drunk who left us.  I won’t feel sorry for her.”  I said, wondering if what I said was going to enrage him further. 

         “You got a lot of hate in you right now, son.  I think perhaps it’d be better to continue this conversation when you’re not so self-indulged.”  He said, getting up to walk out. 

         I almost let him walk out scowling at him, but I didn’t.

         “Why did you defend Turnovsky?”  I asked.

         This question stopped him immediately, but he did not turn toward me.

         Instead he thought for a moment, looking forward.

         “Because it was the right thing to do.”  He said.

         “What really happened that night Dad?”  I asked.

         He turned toward me, noticing the look in my eyes was serious.

         “You read my report didn’t you?  The one you found in my safety deposit box?”

         My suspicions were correct.  It was his deposit box at Lloyd’s.  And the lady in purple couldn’t call me because I wound up here. 

         “Yeah, I did.”

         “Jeni told you didn’t she?”  He asked.

         “She didn’t tell me enough.”  I answered.

         “The report I wrote was the accurate one Marty.” 

“Why did you call my house the night she died then?  What did you say to her?”  I asked.

         “Nothing.  No one answered the phone.”  He said shrugging.

         “I was calling to tell you about your mother.”  He finished.

         “You came to the house the night she died Dad.  How did you know?”  I demanded.

         He hesitated never once looking away from me.

         “Look kid.  I tried calling you.  No one answered.  I realized it was something I should have told you in person anyway, so I decided to come over.  By the time I got there, forensics was tearing apart your house, and you had already been taken down for questioning.  End of story.”

         I sat there and thought for a moment.  He was standing there waiting, as if he was wondering if his last response would satisfy me. 

         “James Darren.”  I said.

         My father stood there glaring at me.  The mention of Darren’s name didn’t even draw a flinch.

         “He’s the man responsible Dad.  The man who killed Jeni.”  I said.

         “I know.”  He said, looking down.

         “But you should leave the past where it is, kid.  No matter what happens, it won’t do you any good in the long run.” 

         After that, he walked out.  I was sure he was lying about something.  He knew I would react exactly the way I did when he told me about my mother’s death.  That wasn’t the real reason he tried calling that night.  He would’ve rather told me over the phone and avoided a potential argument, than tell me in person.  We rarely talked about my mother.  And with good reason.  My father always seemed to be more sympathetic towards her than I was.  He had endured the arguments and sleepless nights with her, just as I had.  But the truth of the matter was that she was an alcoholic.  She didn’t care who she hurt, or about the things she would say.  Not even about the things she did.  I kept my head down through most of it, leaving my father in her path of self-destruction.  She died how she lived.  And lived how she died.  I can still remember the day she left.  Her and my father were screaming at each other.  He had begged her to enter a rehab program.  She refused, of course.  Her car was loaded already.  Its wheels squatted under the weight.  She drove away in fury, leaving devastation behind.  That was the last time I saw her alive. 

Coming up next:  Chapter Five - Aftershock