M Sellars - The Law Of Three

“Not that we’ve found.” He cocked his head and looked at me. “Is there somethin’ I should know?”

“No,” I said in a dismissive tone. “Not really. Just do me a favor. If you see Kavanaugh, explain Twilight Zone to her and let her know I was right.”

“Jeez, Row.” He shook his head. “You and your hocus-pocus.”

“Yeah, me and my hocus-pocus,” I muttered.

The ambulance rocked as it bounced over what was probably a curb then listed slightly as it hooked into a turn. Ben reached out to steady himself, and I saw his right hand was tightly wrapped in gauze once again.

“So how is your hand, Tonto?” I asked.

“Hurts like a motherfucker.”

“An overwhelming sense of apathy and withdrawal is not that uncommon, Rowan.” Helen Storm’s friendly but analytical voice filtered into my ear from the telephone. “It does not mean that you are unsympathetic.”

The clock on the coffeemaker read 6:58 a.m. I had fully expected to connect with the answering service when I dialed the number to her office. I knew it was early, but I had gotten tired of waiting for business hours to roll around. I had to admit that I felt an almost cathartic sense of relief when she actually answered instead of them.

“But if I had been there ten seconds sooner, Helen…” I submitted.

“It probably would not have made a bit of difference,” she told me. “Rowan, understand that you are human. There is only so much that you can do. Millicent’s loss is a horrible tragedy for you to contend with-both of you. However, you cannot and should not obsess over something of which you had no control.”

It had been a little less than thirty-six hours since my life had run headlong into the floor of the abandoned building at the corner of Ashley and Second Street. At least, that is how I was feeling.

Felicity and I had talked, and she had certainly helped me, but I wondered if I had done her any good. We both had a lot to work through, on many levels. Our relationship had never been more solid, but emotionally we were both chewing our fingernails. We had agreed that we shouldn’t try riding it out alone, especially not after everything that had happened.

“Her parents called me last night,” I murmured.

“How did that go?” she asked.

“It wasn’t pleasant,” I returned with a sigh. “As far as they are concerned, their daughter would still be alive if she had never met me.”

“Rowan, you must understand that they are grieving a terrible loss, just as you and Felicity are. Anger is a stage of grief. They will reach a point where they will realize that you are not at fault.”

“I don’t know, Helen,” I replied. “That should have been me not her.”

“You know full well what Eldon Porter’s intent was all along, Rowan. What you are experiencing is normal, but still, you cannot torture yourself for an act that someone else committed.”

“Survivor guilt,” I returned softly.

“Precisely,” Helen acknowledged. “Now, when can the two of you be here?”

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Ben is supposed to show up any minute to help us move things back over to the house. Felicity has already gone to pick up the dogs, and we’re supposed to pick up the cats this afternoon.”

I gingerly cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear, wincing as it found a bruise to rest on. Using my right hand, I tugged the carafe out of its niche on the coffeemaker and topped off my cup. There were still a few inches of brew left in the Pyrex globe, but they probably wouldn’t last long considering how fast I was going through it.

The much-worshipped java machine was the last thing left to pack, really. We hadn’t brought that much with us when we’d been sequestered here to hide from a madman. Our suitcases were already packed, and a half-dozen medium-sized boxes stuffed with various personal comfort items now rested on the small, dining room table. The last box was sitting on the kitchen counter patiently waiting for the coffeemaker to occupy a space within.

After I crammed the carafe back onto the hotplate, I picked up a spoon and jammed the handle beneath the cast on my left arm and dug gently at an insistent itch.

“What about this evening then?” Helen asked.

“We don’t want to impose on you, Helen,” I told her.

“You won’t be,” she returned with an almost cheerful nonchalance. “I will come over to your house, and we will order out pizza.”

“But, Helen…” I began to object.

“No buts, Rowan. The two of you need to deal with this. Trust me, I am a doctor. I know these things.”

I couldn’t help but allow just a hint of a smile to pass across my lips. “Okay then. If you insist.”

“I do,” she replied. “If it will make you feel any better, you can buy.”

The smile grew larger, and I even chuckled lightly. “Deal.”

Her voice took on a mischievous tone, “Do you like anchovies?”

“I love ‘em, Felicity not so much,” I replied.

She chuckled. “So you will have to buy two pizzas then.”

“I think we can do that,” I replied. “And Helen, we really appreciate this.”

“I know you do,” she assured me. “How does seven sound?”

“Seven is perfect.”

“Seven it is. I will see you both then.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

There was a forceful rap on the door just as I dropped the handset into the cradle. I took a quick sip of my coffee then set the cup back on the counter before exiting the kitchenette, hooking around the table then moving through the small living room.

I undid the deadbolt then unlatched the door and pulled it open. As expected, Ben was standing on the other side, a familiar flat box resting in his hand like a platter.

He looked me over then said, “You look like shit.”

“Yeah, nice to see you too,” I replied as I stepped aside and allowed him to come in. “There’s some coffee left if you want it.”

“Got a cup?”

“Look in one of the boxes on the table.” I waved as I shut the door. “There should be some travel mugs in there.”

He had set the box of donuts on the counter, so I flipped it open and dug out one that looked as though it might have jelly or something injected into it.

“They were outta glazed, can ya’ believe it?” Ben asked rhetorically as he drained the coffeepot into a large plastic mug bearing the logo of a particular film Felicity often used.

“Just stick it in the sink,” I told him as he started to stick the carafe back on the burner. “I need to rinse it out before I pack it.”

He nodded as he twisted then set the pot down in the sink. Turning back, he snapped the lid onto the mug with his good hand.

I swallowed a bite of the donut as I held up my cast-encased arm then said, “Looks like we have one good pair between us.”

“Yeah, well at least you broke your left,” he returned. “I shoot with my right you know, so now I have to fly a desk for at least six weeks.”

“I thought that was all you did anyway,” I jibed.

“Yeah. Funny.” He rolled his eyes. “So where’s Firehair?”

“Picking up the dogs.”

“At seven in the morning?” he asked. “Did she miss ‘em that much?”

I nodded. “Yeah, we both did I guess. But the real reason is that Joe and Terri both work Saturdays, and she wanted to pick them up before they left. It just works out easier that way.”

I finished off the jelly-filled pastry in a series of quick bites as I moved in past him. Stopping at the sink, I twisted on the faucet and then began rinsing out the carafe.

“That’s cool.” He shrugged, turning to face me, and then he took a sip of coffee. “Not like you have that much to move anyway.”