Chapter 22

Part 1

The wind blew across his face as the boat sailed before the wind. The fresh air seemed to lull him and yet he was fully alert as his eyes scanned the sails and the waves below him. He could hear the wind singing through the masthead and riggings. It was almost like a soft haunting melody that you hated and yet kept whistling or humming at the oddest moments in your life. He could feel his own lips as they softly whistled to the haunting melody of the wind and once more his eyes glanced down at the sleeping young man next to him.

The sky was deepening as the sunset grew around him and his boat. He could feel the power in the old wooden boat as it knifed through the skimming waves and if he looked, he’d see his dolphin still swimming alongside. He was like a faithful watchdog and yet so much more as Paul was certain that he could communicate with the fish in a plane that he didn’t even know existed. It was almost as if they were in touch deep within, and nothing human or scientific could explain it to him other than it was an act of majesty.

With his eyes narrowed against the wind that blew straight at him he felt his hair flowing in the wind and his heart no longer ached or felt like it was torn into a million shards of cutting glass. Instead he actually felt calm, felt at peace with himself even though his mind told him it was an illusion. Right now, he just didn’t care if it was an illusion or not, all he cared about was that something was happening, something he couldn’t explain but for the first time he felt like he could actually make a difference, that somehow he had found his courage. He no longer was the cowardly lion from the ‘Wizard of Oz’ but was a full fledged man, haunted by his past but no longer daunted by it.

Paul glanced at his watch and he looked back out towards the prow of the boat. He could see the blond hair flowing across the front hatch and he saw the shape of Ashley’s head as it rolled with the boat’s motion. He could see the spray reaching up over the pointed catwalk and he knew that Ashley had to be drenched, but then he knew too that he sat there, only in his shorts as he too seemed to be lost in the sounds of the ocean as it passed by the sailing boat.

With one hand holding the wheel steady, he reached for the cellular phone and once more dialed the number he had fed into the speed dial. Once more he went through the mechanical voices until he got a live person, where he asked his short question, identified himself, and waited for the answer. Just as it had been said several times already, he once more listened to the uncaring voice telling him no change and he hung up, preserving the battery life but at least he knew that for whatever reason, what was supposed to be an end within hours had exceeded all expectations. Terry was refusing to give in and Paul smiled, because that was his younger brother, a fighter to the bitter end, and this was as bad as it came and yet Terry still fought.

He didn’t know how or why he was still hanging on, and as he thought about it his eyes once more traveled forward to where Ashley sat. Just staring in his direction he could feel the pull of his brother’s charm and inner calm against his own heart and soul. There was so much he wanted to share with Terry and yet it was his choice to let him go in peace, but then, it really wasn’t his choice at all, was it?

The old wooden boat, Brother’s Promise, sailed on into the night and as the wind changed direction so too did the boat as it now headed back towards the shore, but not from whence it had come. Instead it was heading for a different part of the coast and Paul began to feel nervous. He was taking a gamble maybe, one that might ruin his entire career, but he couldn’t do it any other way and besides, it was time.

Rob had slept fitfully and he couldn’t shake the strange images that seemed to haunt his mind as he tried to rest. There was something about the way the wind was blowing thru the rigging that had made his heart flutter a little and the fires in his belly flicker with each mournful howl that echoed inside of his ears. Something was nagging at him, something he should know and yet all he could think about was shutting out the noise until finally he had enough and he sat up. His back now rested on the cockpit hatchway, and he stared up at the tall young man guiding the ship through the ocean.

Just looking up at Paul made his pulse quicken a little and he couldn’t really explain why he got those strange urges to be with him either. He didn’t think he was queer, and yet if he wasn’t, then why was he having these urges to be in Paul’s arms? Why did he feel like he just wanted to curl up into Paul’s strong athletic body if he was straight? Surely men didn’t have a yearning for another man if he was straight, so then he had to be gay, but still, no other guy had ever struck him this way, but then again, neither had any women, so was he gay? 

His eyes stared upwards, watching the way his facial muscles twitched in time with the singing gusts of wind and he smiled as he felt a strange exhilaration flow thru his own young body. Looking at Paul was making him horny, and slowly he stopped trying to rationalize it, instead he started to simply enjoy the thought that there might be someone for him, someone who would care about him and not want to just bed him or worse, beat him like his father.

Funny, but normally when he started thinking back to all that, he would get hyper and he would gasp for air and then reach out for a drink or when it got really bad, for a hit of something more powerful. He didn’t usually do drugs, but he had been known to party pretty hard but that was only when the memories where too strong, too real to erase with a bottle of booze. Yet, here he was having some heavy duty thoughts and just glancing up at Paul made them all go away, run and hide from him so that he just never got the urge to drink or do more. Rob couldn’t explain how this could be, after all he really didn’t know Paul, but for now, he just thought he’d enjoy the peace that Paul seemed to bring to him.

Sitting there, he was stunned by all the similarities that there were between his past, Paul’s, and even Ashley’s and yet for most of his life, he had thought it was his fault, that there had been something he had done to warrant such treatment, and looking up at Paul, he knew now that it wasn’t his fault, just that his own father hadn’t understood what it really meant to be a father. Strange, he wound up blaming himself when really, just as his heart knew, he hadn’t done anything to warrant the beatings or screams, just as Paul hadn’t or even Ashley. 

He looked down at his long legs, stretched out and pushing up against the wooden decking. It felt so warm and yet the sun had faded from the sky and for some unknown reason, he felt happy. Rob wasn’t sure what the future held in store for him, but somehow just even thinking that there might be one for him was soothing and the pains of a past no longer seemed to consumer him. He fiddled with his hands a little and looked up, to see Paul staring down at him. His eyes grew wider as he saw a small smile cross Paul’s face, followed by one of his own and deep in his heart, he felt a surge of hope begin to beat just that much harder. He sighed and in an impulse he pushed up and stood up to stand next to Paul.

Looking out at the wide sea he could see the distant shoreline growing and he knew they were heading back to where all their troubles lay. He didn’t feel panic and he looked over at Paul and once more felt the smile warming his heart and out of impulse, he stood close and wrapped his arm around Paul’s waist and felt the sudden tenseness, then the soft relaxation of the muscles as Paul shifted slightly, letting his body curl into Rob’s own body.

They stood there together; Paul’s arms around Rob’s shoulder holding onto the huge wheel, and his own waist snuggled tightly into the crevice of Rob’s thinner arm. It felt so good that for a second or two he felt a tremor racing through his whole body and as it raced thru him, he felt Terry’s heart beating next to his, warming his thoughts and caressing the pain of his soul and a small tear rolled down his face as he prayed softly to God to hold and protect his little brother.

Part 2

John watched as the people began to slowly exit the terminal walkway. He didn’t know why but he felt a little on edge, but then he always did when he had to deal with Janice. She wasn’t a person you could ever anticipate. There were times when you would expect that she would explode and yet she’d remain calm and cool, other times she would just suddenly be in your face spitting fire. She did have a way with words too and he wasn’t exactly thrilled that she had elected to come back to personally deal with the situation with Paul.

He wished he had gone to her husband but right now, well deep down in his heart he knew that it would eventually have to go to Janice Jamison to be dealt with, so he had elected to contact her directly. After all, there was a fair amount of money involved and despite everyone’s opinion, she was extremely smart in how to handle the vast amounts of money that the organization handled. Hell, she had negotiated some of the television contracts herself, and there was no one better at getting rock bottom pricing from those television people. He still held her in awe, and when in one of his honest self examination moods, he’d acknowledge that he really adored her, in fact, was maybe in love with her, but that was something he’d never admit to anyone else, heck, he rarely admitted it to himself even. There was danger in coveting someone else’s wife, and he had a good thing going, and just like Janice, he liked what the money brought into his world.

Janice Jamison really wasn’t a picturesque women, she wasn’t particularly stunning in looks or features, and yet she had a way of commanding one’s attention, even in a ballroom filled with movie stars and models, she had a way of drawing people’s attention. John could see the way some of the deplaning passengers were and he knew instinctively that Janice was about to make her appearance and sure enough, he spotted her petite 5 foot 2 inch body as it made its way through the walkway out into the concourse.

She wasn’t dressed to the nines and yet she looked radiant, and her smile was one that seemed to just take you by surprise. If you were a direct recipient of it, your heart would flutter a bit, and in some instances you would feel a bit weak at the knees. Her hair was nicely cut and styled to show just a hint of curl and for a 47-year-old woman, she didn’t look a day over 37.

Her eyes were searching the crowd and he waited for them to finally circle to where he stood and when they did, and locked onto his own face, he felt his heart skip a beat and he grew a bit warm under the collar as they connected. John felt a strange giddiness and then a bit of fear as her eyes bore into his, a questioning glare in them that passed as she raised her hand and waved to him. He waved back, feeling unsure of himself and even a bit unsteady. The way her eyes had flickered and then closed down to reflect nothing but an outward calm made him sweat a bit more and wiped the palms of his hands on his pants as he waited for Janice to come through.

Janice “John, how nice of you to meet me personally, that really wasn’t necessary.”

John “I wouldn’t have it any other way Janice, I have the car outside, if you’ll give me your ticket, I’ll get a porter to collect your luggage.”

Janice “Oh that isn’t necessary, I only have this one small bag with me, I am planning to return in a day or two, so I just left everything there, I have enough at the penthouse for a few days.”

John “Oh, okay, well come on then, did you have a good flight?”

Janice “It was okay, the service certainly isn’t what I am used to, but there just wasn’t a United Flight. I’ll make sure to take United back though.”

The conversation died quickly as they headed for the parked limousine and he could see her magic still working as the milling crowd just seemed to melt away from in front of her. That smile was fixed and he knew it was for show only, that inside here sharp mind was whirling away, and he knew that the ride to the penthouse suite would be filled with questions and that by the time they got to their destination, she would have some plan in place to deal with it all. She really was an amazing woman and he sighed, wishing once more that she was his and not someone else’s.

Janice “So, when is Paul going to call back?”

John “In the morning he said”

Janice “I see, how much is Terry’s hospital bills now?”

John “Just over $80 thousand.”

Janice “whose been paying for that?”

John “Seems the ER doctor is, he’s at least the one listed as being the one.”

Janice “Oh? What do we know about him then?”

It was amazing how she could just switch off that smile and then to him, she became even more desirable. The way she would squint her eyes or wrinkle her nose while she thought while talking. It was really an amazing thing to watch.

John “Not much, he’s a top notch ER doctor, very mechanical was the comment, but supposedly he’s changed some, ever since Terry was brought in actually. He’s only 31 and lives with a paramedic named Connor Leeds. The doctor, Bruce Collier, is a son of Major Collier, the local base adjutant and from what we have learned they don’t get along too well.”

Janice “No? Hmm, and you say he lives with a paramedic?”

John “Yes, they are co signers for a mortgage on a rather nice house in a relatively middle class neighbourhood. Nothing fancy really and the credit history shows no abnormalities. Dr Collier makes about $135 thousand a year, while his roommate makes just over $48 thousand.”

Janice “And they are paying the hospital bills? Just what is the relationship between this Collier fellow and the paramedic?”

John   “Our sources say they are romantically involved, lovers is the term I believe, they are both homosexuals, though it wasn’t clear about the doctor until just recently.”

Janice “I see, any way to know if they availed themselves of my son’s particular talents before he was beaten up?”

It was kind of eerie for him, listening to her casually discuss her near dead son’s lifestyles. She had known he had become a prostitute and at the time her only concern had been how it would play if his relationship to her and Jerry came out, and yet it was also almost as if it was a mere business decision. She never did show much emotion about either of her boys, nor her first husband either come to think of it. All she was passionately concerned about was the monthly tally.

John “Uh, well, no, there is no way to know, at least given how uh, how Terry is right now.”

Janice “Yes, and I doubt if he’d tell anyways, he was always rather close mouthed about his own world, well, nothing we can do about that I suppose.”

John “No, not really”

Janice “Whose idea was it to get that showboat Smith?”

John “Uh, Jerry’s Janice, he insisted, and it seems like, well, the Judge certainly cut him down pretty good at the arraignment.”

Janice “I heard, have you found out what his story is? How the hell did this case get before him in the first place?”

John “Still checking on that, but it certainly has some heavy political overtones already, the White House has already issued a statement saying they support their nominee’s position and have no plans of looking elsewhere, in fact they seemed to make it out like this is plus for them, and I guess in a sense it is, but Jerry is fuming Janice, I think he’s gone off on the deep end on this.”

Janice “Yes, well you leave him to me, I’ll soon get that dealt with, now as to Paul, he wants at least that amount deposited plus a percentage more?”

John “Yes”

Janice “Where did he get the balls?”

John “Huh? I mean…”

Janice “You know how Paul has always been such a coward, since when did he ever start to make demands like this?”

John “I don’t know Janice, but judging the tone of his voice, I think he really would go to the press with the story, and well, it could hurt us real bad if he did.”

Janice “You think? How bad?”

John “Could be the start of a rather quick decline, maybe initially about 35%, and that’s being conservative. You know our base has dwindled, at least the really solid one’s and we have been rather overrun with the fanatics, hard to tell but if we lose our middle of the road base, we won’t recover that easy, besides, Jerry seems bent on courting the more radical lately.”

John watched as Janice mulled over his comments. He could see her shrewd mind going over it all and he knew she would come up with a plan that would certainly be better than the one Jerry seemed hell bent on following. That was the problem; Jerry actually believed that he was the brains of the Ministry when John knew it had always been Janice.

He had watched in the early days the way she honed his skills and built him up to the exalted position he had reached. She was the one too who had noticed the decline and had brought about the traveling road show circus that was helping to offset the television decline. There was no doubt who had the brains between the two and in some ways; he was rather scared of her. She could be very ruthless when it came to business.

Janice “Well, he is worried, after all there has been a steady decline, but he won’t admit that it is due to his own rhetoric, well, so you think we should do as Paul has demanded?”

John “Well, I am afraid that is what I am thinking, that we should pay him off and get this out of our hair.”

Janice “Yes, that would seem to be the easiest, but I don’t think it is how we will handle this particular rebellion by my oldest.”

John wasn’t surprised by those words, even though he felt a little uneasy in the pit of his stomach. Whatever anyone said about Janice Jamison Hartwell they could never say that she was afraid of controversy. At times, he thought she reveled in it and so far, she had never really failed in her tactics. Other’s had argued against her, but they never did last long, she did have a mind of her own and she rarely tolerated much in the way of opposition.

It was rather intoxicating to know and be around someone like her. She certainly knew her own mind and she never did fail to arouse him with her keen analytical mind either. He did wonder if she had any weaknesses, or if emotion ever really played a part in her life, but as long as she could insure that steady flow of cash, well it didn’t matter if behind her back some in the ministry called her a ‘cold fish’. All that mattered was that she had the best interests of the Ministry at heart, after all, she was the one who thought it all up.

John “No? Uh, but Janice, if we don’t, he’ll take it to the press, I mean…”

Janice “Yes, that is why I have already schedule a news conference tomorrow at the hospital, for when I visit my youngest son.”

John “WHAT? I mean, sorry, you have scheduled a news conference at the hospital?”

The surprise of her announcement took him completely unawares. He coughed a little as he tried to digest exactly what she had said and more importantly, in trying to figure out just what her plan was. There was no anticipating her, and this announcement only proved that point. On the other hand, he did have to admit that a good offence was generally one way to keep your opponents guessing and so he waited to hear more, knowing that it would certainly be a bold plan.

Janice “Yes, where my husband and I shall visit my son and his step son, it should take any sting out of whatever Paul may say or do after. I think we have to attack this John, in addition, you will make arrangements with the hospital that all of his care is transferred to us, that is to say, we’ll assume full financial responsibility for his care, past and present as well as future, understood?”

John “Yes, but, Janice, I don’t see how you can just…”

Janice “I think there is a real chance here of making this a most lucrative proposition for us John, we could double if not triple our ministry income which will surely cover any expenses we have, plus the PR value alone should be worth millions to us. Has Jerry already taped his sermon for Sunday’s broadcast?”

John “I believe he has, but…”

Janice “Get it stopped, he’ll have to go into a studio tomorrow and redo it, because he has to make this issue more personal, and if he does it in his typical style, why John we should be rolling in it by mid week.”

John “Janice, I don’t see where you are going with this, you aren’t suggesting are you that you and Jerry go public with Terry being your son? I mean, it could drive our base support right out the window…”

Janice “Could, but it won’t, not if Jerry listens and does this the way it should have been handled in the first place. Set up a trust with at least a quarter of a million in it for the hospital to draw on, you can be executor of the fund for now, or better yet; I think we’ll make you and brother Paul co executors. That would definitely put a plug into anything Paul might wish to say, don’t you think? It keeps it separate, and yet makes it look good for the ministry as well as for Jerry, the grieving step father even though his son is a fallen angel, should work very well with our base support, don’t you think?”

The way her mind was working was thrilling to him. He could feel the lump in his pants growing, not to mention his desire for her. She couldn’t help but notice but he didn’t care, not now as his mind grabbled with the facts. 

She was right, if Jerry played it right they could not only appease the more moderates among the membership, but could actually use it to further their paid membership. It would be tricky and would have to be well stage managed, at least Jerry’s part but somehow he was sure that Janice would have him well rehearsed and primed.

By going public they took away Paul’s only really potent hold, and by including him into the plan, well they pretty well neutralized any potential for him being a thorn in their side. He would have everything tainted if he refused the terms of the trust, and if he did go to the press anyways, well they’d be less inclined to listen than if the secret relationship of Terry to Jerry Hartwell was already exposed, by the mother no less.

John “But will Jerry listen?”

Janice “He’ll listen, after all, has he ever not listened to me before?”

John “True, what about his defense of the kid who did the deed?”

Janice “I don’t like that as much, but we can make that work too, I mean isn’t it a ‘Christian’ thing to forgive? Here is the grieving step father reaching out to save another lost soul, I mean seriously John we should get millions of free advertising for the ministry if we just play it right, keep the press conferences to a minimum, and let it all play out. Think about it, he couldn’t save his own stepson, too late as that is now in God’s hands, but he can save, what’s his name? Adam something, from eternal damnation, just think about the press that will generate? Follow it up with some hot televised tent meetings, this could be exactly what the Ministry needed.”

She was right too, if handled right this could turn into something bigger than the Billy Graham Crusades even. How could they miss with Janice behind the scenes orchestrating it all? She’d be out front too, the mournful mother grieving for her wayward son, and she knew how to turn a phrase too. He could see that conference now, the way she’d have those hard-bitten reporters in tears.

Damn, he was mad at himself as he wished he had thought of this instead of resorting to calling her in. This was his job; his function and once more Janice had come to bail him and their precious Ministry out. He sure hoped Jerry appreciated all that she was doing for him.

John “Yeah sure, with Smith? Not much of a chance there Janice.”

Janice “Tell him for each unauthorized press conference he holds, we’ll deduct $100 thousand off his fee, that should keep him in line.”

John “You serious? He’ll quit the case before he accepts that type of deal.”

Janice “And that is a bad thing? No, he’ll accept it; after all it’s the money he wants really, what’s his fee by the way? Five million is what I last heard he charged.”

John “I don’t know, he and Jerry worked out the details, he’s presenting himself as handling this case pro bono but…”

Janice “Well, leave that to me, I’ll find out from Jerry then, okay, anything else I should know?”

John “No, that covers it all I think.”

Janice “Fine, we are about there, you get onto getting more information on that doctor and his playmate too, we might need it, and keep on checking into the Judge too, and oh yeah, time I think to get a tail on my eldest boy, he’s not usually this way so something or someone has changed him, find out which.”

John “okay, I’ll get onto it first thing in the morning.”

Janice “Start now John, there isn’t time to dally here, use my personal lawyer for the hospital trust, also arrange the transfer from the Cayman Island account.”

He could see the steel glint in her eyes and he knew that she wasn’t happy about all this. He also could see how her mind was already working on something else and he wondered if that something else was maybe his replacement? Janice didn’t suffer fools or incompetence very well and he was racking his brain trying to make sure he hadn’t screwed up too badly. He didn’t know how he’d feel if she was to dismiss him.

John “But Jerry won’t like that Janice, how do I explain it to him when he asks?”

Janice “He won’t ask, I’ll tell him first but you just do it, leave Jerry to me, after all, I made him and I can easily break him too, you as well my friend, so just do as I say, okay?”

John “Of course, I always have done as you asked and always will, you know that.”

Janice “Yes, I do.”

The limousine had arrived and a red-coated valet opened the door with a flourish of the fancy white stretch automobile. His face was impassive and yet John noticed how he had looked at Janice as she stepped out. His face had registered a strange happiness as she had her smile back on and had even taken his hand to climb out of the car. She certainly did know how to charm people and he was actually getting excited about the upcoming news conference.

He still thought it was a risk, a huge risk, but he had seen her take other such risks and walk away smiling, successful and in his heart, he felt that this too would succeed, even though deep down inside, there was this nagging feeling that he was missing something and that things weren’t just right. John Childs, Deacon of the Hartwell Ministries shrugged off the warning voice from within as he headed up to his own suite to carry out his new orders. 

Part 3

Chaplain O’Malley made it back to the base just in time for morning mass. He was a bit out of breath at the beginning but he had done the service so many times that it was routine for him except now it seemed to have some new and hidden meaning too. He spoke the words but some of them would suddenly take on a whole new meaning for him that would set his mind off wandering and in some instances, made his heart flutter a little or have him gasp for air suddenly.

Fortunately there never were too many for morning mass and he managed to escape any real notice when he would catch himself on something. For the most part, those who attended this early were off in their own world, doing just as he was doing, repeating words by repetition rather than by conviction.

The vows of the confessional were sacred to him; it was the one last vestiges of his religion that held some promise, at least until now. Now he knew the torment that other priests had talked about as his heart had quailed at first the confession of Adam in the afternoon, and now the confession of an old friend. He had listened in the middle of the night, during a brief visit, and he still could feel the wind blowing across his face from the ocean as he listened to his young friends confession.

It had been a long time since he and Paul had met. Paul had only been a child then, one who was confused and unsure of himself but still there was a hint of much more underneath that timid surface. He had always been sure that Paul would amount to something in the world, and he had followed his path carefully, seeing how he did at school and then university as well.

Mark O’Malley was proud of his young friend and sad too. He had listened to the young inquiring mind asking him questions he couldn’t answer and the gaps in their friendship always seemed the largest when discussing God and his relationship with his children. Paul never could grasp how God could really love his creations and then let them flounder amidst a sea of pain and sorrow. Wars and crimes of hate always seemed to make a wide chasm grow between them, and even Mark’s own peace-keeping duties had only helped to widen that gap between them. 

Chaplain Mark sat back in his leather chair and leaned his head onto the clasped fingertips of his hands under his chin. His eyes grew a bit cloudy as he recalled their first meeting many years ago when Paul had to be no more than 13 or 14 at the time. He was filling in for a local parish priest who had come down with a fever or something, and he had volunteered to help out. He had been assigned to confessions and that was where he first met Paul.

The young man had come to ask God’s forgiveness because he had finally discovered the secret joys of masturbation. In a sense it was tragic, because this fine healthy young man was scared that by touching himself, by making his own body feel good, that he was committing a sin against God. Mark had smiled as the young boy had blurted out his hideous sin and he had tried to reassure him that the feelings were normal and that God understood those urges, after all God had given them to him, when he had created man, so young Paul really had no need to worry, or so he had told him.

On its own that would have been enough, but as he sat in his chair, he realized it was the next question that had started all of his own doubts, all of his own uncertainties that had led him to volunteer for duty in Bosnia and had him now firmly entrenched in the military establishment as well. Sitting, his eyes misted and his heart heavy he remembered the quivering voice as it suddenly shouted out at him “But father, I think of other boys, when I am, when I am doing it, and my dad says that is evil, how then, father, why does God only love those who follow his words only? Why are the Jews or the Muslims not going to heaven?”

Even last night, when Paul had asked him again those very same questions, only more pointed, more direct, he had no answers. How could he answer when in his own heart he knew that it wasn’t true, that all of God’s children were welcomed into his realm, that it wasn’t a choice of his if a soul wandered the dark abyss, but instead was one’s own choice. Chaplain Mark O’Malley leaned back into his soft leather chair, and stared up at the small cross that was the only adornment on the far wall. He looked at the pale image of the figure of Christ and shook his head, because that wasn’t his vision of the Lord’s son at all.

From all accounts, Christ had been a man who worked with his hands, after all he was a carpenter by trade and later a fisherman of man’s souls. No pasty figure was he and yet all the crosses showed an emancipated figure, and he shook his head, wondering just where had religion turned away from God? Paul had been right last night, when he said that God was not the God portrayed by his faith, but was a God who loved all of his children, he had to or else he couldn’t truly be a father to anyone.

The knock on his office door startled him and he almost fell backwards off the chair as he stared at the door, listening to the knock come once more. He settled himself quickly knowing that this too would be a tough session to have, because the person on the other side had many questions that were no different than the one’s he himself was having. He sighed as he answered the third knock and watched as the tall man entered the office, a wan smile across his face and you could see the puffiness around the man’s eyes and Father Mark knew the man had been crying.

Carl “Father”

Chaplain Mark O’Malley “Carl, please, sit down.”

Carl “Thanks, I am not late am I?”

Father Mark “No, no not at all, uh, you okay Carl? You seem rather disheartened tonight, anything you want to tell me?”

Carl “I don’t know, not good really, I just came from the hospital…”

Mark “Yes? And is there any change in your young friend?”

Carl “No, not really, I should go really, it isn’t like he knows I am even there.”

Mark “I don’t know, they say that those in coma’s do know, but it is hard, isn’t it? You really did love him didn’t you Carl?”

Carl “Love him? No, no Father, you have it wrong, he was just a friend, that’s all.”

Mark “If you say so”

Carl “I do”

Mark “There is no shame in admitting how you felt for him, you know that.”

Carl “Please, it is hard enough as it is without adding that into it all, he is just a good friend, that is all, and I can’t stand to see him suffering like this, it eats away at my heart, even at my own faith, it is like, I don’t know, like something gnawing away and I can’t stop it.”

Mark “Yes, I know that feeling too, I suppose in some ways it is a test of our will, our strength and our trust in God too, but we have to tell ourselves that HE does know what HE is doing, as hard as that is.”

Carl “But does HE? I used to say all that myself, but does he father? According to our own precepts, I am doomed because I am who I am, and maybe some of those puritans are right, maybe HE is punishing us for being different, but he made us this way, why would he punish us?”

Mark “That is a question that we will only find out when we are in HIS presence Carl, and you don’t really believe that God would send such a disease down to torment his children, do you?”

Carl “I don’t know anymore, at times I think he wouldn’t, but then I see Terry lying there, helpless and in such pain Father, you can see the waves of pain as they torment him, as they run freely thru his young innocent body, and then I don’t know, I feel such anger, such hatred.”

Mark “Well, that is normal Carl, we all feel that way when we are helpless to aid someone we care for, when we see then in such pain and can’t do anything it is extremely frustrating, and I guess that is where our anger comes from too, but Carl, we have to have faith, it is all we really have to offer, isn’t it?”

Carl “Is it? I don’t know any more, I see Terry and then I see the newspaper headlines and I see that butcher, that animal who did this and the attention he is getting from those who are supposed to be men of God, how can they support someone like him father, how?”

Mark “As much as you don’t want to hear this, you must, but it is because he too is just as deserving of God’s love and support as you or your friend are, God’s love isn’t conditional, it can’t be, and maybe that is where our faith has to help us, has to hold us in his hand and soothe our anger, cool our tempers, because it is his love that we are all seeking, isn’t it? And yet, there is nothing to seek, because his love is always there, for the taking.”

Carl “Yes, maybe but how can anyone like that monster be deserving of HIS love? How can God love his children but let us do these horrible things to each other? What kind of father is that?”

Mark “One who must shed a great many tears for his children Carl, because at times being a true father means letting your children feel for themselves, decide for themselves, even if that choice is not what is right, even if that choice brings pain and sorrow to others, and to him too.”

Carl “I wish I could believe that, it is so hard Father, I just don’t know if I can believe anymore, and that frightens me, I know my time is nearing, I have been lucky so far, but the day is going to come, and I don’t know if I’ll have that faith, that trust…”

Mark “Is there any change in your condition Carl?”

Carl “No, nothing really, the white cell count is still at acceptable levels, but it won’t last forever, and with Terry and all that is going on, I don’t know if I can bear this, it is, I don’t know, it is like living in a void where what is right doesn’t exist anymore, you know, they are saying this animal, this so called person, might get off? I can’t believe it, and what is worse, this vile specimen is being supported by the very people who should be condemning him, I just don’t know anymore.”

Mark “No, I guess it does seem all upside down, doesn’t it? But Carl, there is a purpose to all this, we just don’t know what it is, we just have to trust in God, after all, he is the creator, isn’t he?”

Carl “Yes, but of what Father? Is he the creator of love or of hatreds? Is he the God of all of us or is he the God of the select anointed few? I just don’t know anymore, which scares me, because I always believed, no matter how bad my life got, I always had HIM to guide me, but he isn’t there now Father, it is like he has suddenly abandoned me, and I feel so alone, so helpless, I just don’t know what to do.”

Mark “It may seem that way now Carl, but trust in him, he has not abandoned you for one second, whether you can feel his presence or not, God is always with you my son, he is always with all of us, we are his children and he is the true father, and I just know, he would never abandon any of us, and yes, that includes you and your friend Terry, but Carl, it also includes Adam, and all that are like him.”

Carl “I don’t know if I can believe that anymore father, I just don’t know, because if that is true, then why is he letting Terry suffer so much? Why can’t he let him go home to his arms then if he cares so much? Why does he let him linger, in pure agony and pain, his family torn with the grief, his friends in anguish over his suffering, why doesn’t he let him go home? Why?”

Mark “I don’t know Carl, I really don’t know why other than his work here on earth isn’t finished yet, for whatever reason there is, his time is just not now. I wish I knew why he hasn’t come to take Terry home, why he has allowed all of this suffering to continue, but then it is his will and we must have faith in that, we must trust that HE knows what he is doing.”

Carl “And what if he really doesn’t? What then?”

Mark “Then, well then, we are doomed I suppose, for evil will have triumphed, and no matter how much I feel tested, no matter how dark it seems to be, I just know, deep in my heart that HE does indeed know. Why? I haven’t a clue as to why I feel this way, does anyone really know why? Does the writer who writes his words know why they affect some people or the teacher ever know why their lessons or words spoken in class make one child become a gang banger while another may become President? All I do know is that is how it is, that God is there, that he does exist and that he does know the answers, and that is all I can really say to you, that God does know.

I can’t explain it, why sometimes it appears as if evil wins the day, is it because God cares for us less in those times or is that man has lost his hope and so has given evil an opening? I don’t know but Carl, I do know that it is at times like this when you must try harder to have faith in HIM, to hold his existence in you even tighter and to not turn your back on his light, this is when you need him the most and he is there, he is here now, you just need to look inside and call for him, HE will answer Carl, you just need to keep the faith, he will answer you.”

Carl “Yes, so I have been told before Father, and yet it isn’t easy to hold onto that thought, that he is up there listening and just waiting for me to call for HIM. I have heard this before, and maybe it is true, but what if it isn’t? What then father?”

Mark “I can’t answer that Carl, because I cannot believe that such a thing is possible, that this entire creation of a race, is merely someone’s joke, someone’s idle play toy that is no longer of interest to them, no Carl, I cannot accept that, and I can’t even begin to tell you why it is how I feel, it just is, from deep within me, HIS fire burns inside and I know it.”

Chaplain Mark O’Malley stared at the earnest face of the young bouncer and he could see the eyes, the emptiness that was inside and he felt a cold chill run through his body. It was as if he was looking at a person dead, even though his heart still beat, even though his mind still functioned, inside where his soul was was nothing but emptiness. He grew cold as he watched the eyes flutter and the muscles relax slightly and yet the emptiness continued to haunt his own weakened spirit.

Sure, he had spoken the words, he even believed them and yet he too was still questioning those very beliefs. How could he be a healer of one’s soul, of one’s spirit if his own was weak and sagging? There had to be an answer somewhere, some words that he could speak that would not just help Carl but himself too for he too felt the emptiness rising inside, despite his own inner battle to keep it from enveloping him and making him dead to the world as well.

The conversation lagged as both men struggled with their inner thoughts and feelings. The moment had passed and Chaplain O’Malley knew it. He knew that he had lost another round to the faceless enemy and another soul was left naked and defenseless because he, a man of God, couldn’t find the right words. The pain inside was ripping him apart and yet anyone walking in would only notice a sadness, and nothing more.

Carl was a tall man and yet as he left the Chaplain’s office, he appeared so much shorter. His shoulder sagged from the weight of his troubles and his doubts and a piece of Chaplain’s Mark heart ripped at the sight. There had to be an answer somewhere, and he could feel his heart struggling with it all, his soul crying for the young troubled man and yet he knew inside, deep down in the furthest regions of his spirit, that Carl’s faith would be tested even further before any answer would be found.

Chaplain Mark sighed and the pain in his temple grew sharper as he reached for the nearly full bottle of Cutty Sark whiskey in his bottom desk drawer. He rarely drank but this would be one of those times as he filled a small water glass full with the brown fluid and took a long steady drink of it. He was frightened at what he had seen in Carl’s face, or more accurately what he hadn’t seen in his face. Carl left, looking like a man already dead, and that made Chaplain Mark shudder again.

Part 4

Commander Brian Sullivan stared across at his boss, Richard Sinclair and wondered just what the veteran fire fighter and paramedic thought about the whole thing. There was no telling as the man kept a poker face during most meetings but the busy eyebrows sometimes were a give away as to the intensity of the man’s thoughts. He could see the way they were moving up and down now that Richard Sinclair was not in a good mood, but then that was to be expected given the news that had come down the pipe.

He sighed a little as he waited for his boss to read through the brief memo and he could tell that there was going to be some outburst, and he didn’t blame him. In a sense he felt the outrage himself, not just at what was happening but at how it was being dealt with. For whatever reason the DA’s office appeared to be going all out to crucify two of his men, and while he thought they deserved some punishment, he didn’t think criminal charges was the way to go. 

Not only that, but there was already signs that this whole mess was going to become a three ring media circus and so here he was, to try and figure out with his boss, the man who pioneered the entire paramedic program for the city, how best to deal with the current situation. He was angry too at the way his men seemed to be handling the whole issue. Many of them it seemed, actually supported the unconchable actions of paramedics Nick Stephenson and rookie Sam Kursk

Personally he didn’t know too many gays, in fact as he thought about it the only real one he was certain of was Connor Leeds and if Connor was a typical gay, well, he had mixed emotions about that. Connor was way too mouthy for his liking and hell, the guy should keep his private life quiet, not flaunt it around like he had in the past. It made people uncomfortable and had been a source of contention for some time, until he was finally partnered with Parker Williams.  

Just thinking about Parker he began to wonder about him. After all, he was the only one who seemed to handle being with Connor, even though Connor was a top notch paramedic and heck, if he was honest, he would have to say that Connor was better at this job than anyone else he had, but his mouth made him a pariah. How Parker was able to put up with it, shift after shift, was beyond his thinking but then he started to think about some of the rumours that were going around.

At first he didn’t buy them but now, thinking back to it all, maybe there was some substance to them. After all, no other supposedly straight person had managed more than 3 or 4 months with Connor, yet Parker seemed to have it down pat. He presented himself as straight but he knew that didn’t necessarily make him straight, but then too, it didn’t make him gay either. His trouble was that there were going to be questions about this, he just knew it and especially if this went to a criminal trial then there would be no avoiding it. 

District Commander Richard Sinclair “How serious is this ADA Brian?”

Commander Brian Sullivan “Very serious Dick, he’s got his own political agenda happening, and he’s not going to have good press out of the proceedings against the perp so this is most likely his way of making up for that.”

Richard Sinclair “I see, and how solid of a case does he have?”

Brian Sullivan “Solid I think, there are witnesses, non gay witnesses who verify Parker’s report, Nick and Sam simply stood by ignoring one victim completely, the other team of Parker and Connor were handling the other victim.”

Richard “So, what’s their story?”

Brian “Sam doesn’t have one, other than he did what he was told to do by his superior, Nick Stephenson, and Nick’s, well his lame excuse is that upon arriving at the scene, they determined the victim was gay, and that due to the excessive amount of blood, he was unprepared to risk his own health, as the safety equipment was not sufficient to protect him and his partner, in his estimation anyways. That’s his story so far.”

Richard “Safety equipment? What, he had gloves, they carry splash shields and even quick disposable gowns, what isn’t sufficient about that?”

Brian “Well, it’s a union beef too Dick, they have been arguing that the stuff is too flimsy, it doesn’t resist tears and as such has a potential health risk when dealing with patients who are bleeding profusely. They do have some points that make sense Dick.”

Paramedic Chief and District Commander Richard Sinclair stared over at Commander Brian Sullivan and looked him square in the eyes. He knew that Brian was a good paramedic, a good commander and his department held many awards for their acts of heroism, but this nonsense, he should have seen it coming, he should have known that there was dissention in the ranks about this issue, but then, as he sighed, he knew he too should have known. It wasn’t like he was unaware of the union’s beef about the safety equipment to prevent direct contact with a patients body fluids, but damn it, their job was to save lives, not stand idly by and watch one expire simply because that person was queer.  That wasn’t their decision to make, it was God’s and he truly believed that God was showing his disapproval by the way the AIDS disease was still spreading.

In all of his years on the job, this was becoming the one issue that threatened everything he had worked for. If his paramedics wouldn’t or couldn’t provide the on scene care expected by the citizens, then how could he justify their continued presence? Was his unit racist? He had fought hard for the integration of minorities into the system, had bullied and pressured all forms of government to get minorities into the program, and yet when it came to gays, he hadn’t done anything about that issue. He had turned his own back on them too and sitting here now, his large gnarled hands wrapped around a summary report from Brian, he knew he had failed to maintain his own objectivity. He had let his own personal views intercede into how he ran his department and now the whole department might have to pay a hefty price for that.

Richard “This ADA, he’s really going to push this all the way?”

Brian “Yeah, I think the way he got burned by the Judge in the criminal action that he really has no choice here. Dick, he’s not going to soft pedal this, he’ll use the media just as any other politician does, I think we are in for a real rough ride here.”

Richard “Anyway of cutting a deal maybe?”

Brian “I don’t know, what kind of deal can we cut anyways? Nick isn’t going to be easy to get into line, and from what I hear, he’s got a line on some hot shot lawyer, to be honest Dick, I think he wants this to go to criminal trial, I really do.”

Richard “Figures, this Stephenson, a real hard ass?”

Brian “I don’t know if I’d call him that, no, no he’s not a hard ass Dick, he’s just your run of the mill bully I guess, and now he’s got a chance at the limelight, I don’t think he’ll allow himself to be handled.”

Richard “I see, who’s the ADA on this Brian?”

Brian “He’s a good one, despite yesterday’s fiasco, his name is Victor Neilson.”

Richard “Him? Shit, so we are in the middle of a political bid then aren’t we? He’s angling for DA isn’t he?”