A Long Winter for Willie Loomis
by
Mary E. Overstreet
PART ONE
- 2 -
Willie woke cold and stiff. His chest and back hurt inside the way they always did if he slept cold. He didn't want to move at all, but having lain in one position so long made it a necessity. Movement was hardest at first, but it was a huge relief to find a new position. He could hardly think and was aware of little besides the way his body felt. Thought never developed into more than primitive desires for comfort for nearly an hour. Cold finally woke him up enough to realize his fire had long since gone out. Trying to build another was out of the question, so he pulled the covers more closely around him, shivering as if with chills.
His mind started on the inevitable track of remembering the beating. He stared at the greenish cracked paint on the wall next to the hearth. After a few minutes he was blinking from tears like hot streaks running over the bridge of his nose and out the outer corner of his eye to the pillow. Why did Barnabas have to do that to him? he thought, all the hurt and shame brimming up in him. "He could've just tol' me," he muttered hoarsely. "He didn't even give me a chance. He just wanted to hurt me."
He pressed a hand to his face. He couldn't take this, he decided. He'd have to leave. But it was a while before he started to get up. He didn't want to face Barnabas. His emotions and fear were still too raw-edged to deal with any confrontation. He was just as likely to fall apart if Barnabas were kind to him as he was if he were cruel. He wanted to avoid that humiliation again. And he wasn't even angry, just hurt.
Willie made it out of bed, stumbling around the room as he gathered his clothes and shoes. The thought of how he must look with all the bruises made him feel sick. There wasn't even any comfort in the fact his face was unmarked. The way the material of his clothes rubbed across the welts and pressed on his bruises, he didn't even want to get dressed. He threw his clothes on the bed, moving gingerly so as to not jar himself and make it hurt worse. He got back in his bed under the covers which had retained some of his warmth. He couldn't make it now, he decided. It was just too much. Easing himself onto his stomach, he pulled the pillow against his face and tried to soothe the ache inside him, but it just wouldn't go away. And he didn't have the strength to get past it.
Carolyn stared out the window of her bedroom at the snow-covered grounds of Collinwood. She'd been up long enough to be mostly over her hangover. She thought about Willie and what had happened between them last night. In spite of her embarrassment, she did not really regret it. But the look in his eyes, even when he was not looking into hers, which had been most of that time, kept coming back clear and stark. It hadn't been like the last time she had seen him before Thanksgiving, and she wondered if something had happened to him. He seemed to radiate a kind of internal pain as though dealing with a host of personal demons but trying to hide his struggle from everyone. But it was there in his eyes, she thought. She had never paid that much attention before and was wishing she had now. It seemed so unfair, and the way he had asked her if Barnabas had hurt her made it seem he had more than considered the possibility based on his own experience. But then Carolyn knew of what Barnabas was or had been capable.
She turned from the window, wondering what the best thing to do would be. She wanted to talk to him, maybe get him to open up a little. Apologizing for making a fool of herself was as good as an excuse as any. Carolyn picked up her purse, digging out her car keys, and went downstairs.
Grimacing, Willie reached up into the closet at the end of the hall and retrieved the small, old suitcase which had long ago replaced his seabag. He carried it into his room, placed it on the bed, and opened it. Feeling the way he imagined kids who ran away from home must feel, he started packing up his clothes. He'd run out of situations many times before, but it had never made him feel like he was running away from home. He had never had a real "home" to run away from. He didn't intend to take either of his two suits, only the things in which he felt most comfortable. And he was not taking the travel bag Barnabas had given him to use on his business trips. Willie didn't want any unnecessary reminders of the other man.
He didn't hurry. Barnabas had left him a note on his inside door knob, stating he would not be back till after five, and he was usually very punctual. It was nearly two in the afternoon now, plenty of time to get out, he thought. Barnabas couldn't make him stay any more, and Julia would refuse to re-commit him to Wyndecliffe. He was in such turmoil inside, it was all he could do to plan this escape. Where he would go, how he would survive were not important as long as he got away from the potential danger of another round of violence. Willie thought he'd lose his mind for real if he was so much as threatened, let alone attacked. He had to go somewhere he could nurse his wounds and forget it all.
The sound of the door knocker pounding the door drifted up to Willie's room. He ignored it. Whoever was down there would go away after a few minutes of standing in the cold outside. Barnabas or Julia would not bother to knock, so he knew it was not either of them. Anyone else didn't matter. Willie changed his mind when he heard a female voice calling into the big, cold house. He froze, unable to decide what to do.
"Willie! Barnabas?" Carolyn called, ascending the stairs. She thought she should just check quietly to see if Willie was asleep in his room and did not call out again.
He heard her footsteps coming toward his end of the hall and feigned surprise at seeing her when she appeared in his doorway. "Carolyn! I-I didn't know you were here."
"I didn't mean to intrude. I thought maybe you weren't able to hear me knock." Her eyes tracked across the room, noticing the covers on his bed seemed to be concealing something. She looked at Willie. He appeared pale and nervous.
"W-well, you were right. I didn't hear ya." He moved toward her to leave his room. "You know, Barnabas ain't here. You want to go downstairs?"
"I didn't come to see Barnabas." She looked at his face, trying to make eye-contact, but he wouldn't look back at her. Instead, he tried to usher her out while keeping several feet away.
"I guess it's a good thing, then," he said, attempting humor. He shut his door behind them, hiding the twinge of pain that the movement added to his aching stiffness. He felt shaky and uncertain.
"Willie, what's the matter?" She stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs and turned, looking up at him.
"Nothin'." He backed up, then went around her, starting down.
"You look like you don't feel well," she said, following.
"I-I gotta hangover." He paused at the foot of the stairs, trying to hide his strained, almost panting breathing.
"Oh." She moved in front of him, studying him as she spoke. "Willie, I'm sorry I made a fool of myself last night. It isn't easy for me to admit it." His eyes, she thought, seemed so sad—no, worse, full of despair. They avoided hers, but she could see in the lines of his face, the knitted brow, tensely held mouth, that he was hurting.
"You didn't make a fool of yourself," he said politely, embarrassed. He felt a sudden wave of panic at the thought of what Barnabas would do if he were to come home early and find them together. "Don't worry about it. Look, I-I've got some things to do. I-I. . . I got up a little late, so I—"
"Willie," she broke in, turning to follow him as he passed her again. "Are you sure you're all right?"
He kept his back to her, running a hand through his hair. "I'm fine. I tol' ya." He started shaking with apprehension. "I got work to do, Carolyn. I-I mean, thanks for comin' over. I'm sorry I can't—"
"Willie, what happened to your hand?" She noticed a dark bluish bruise on the back of his hand as he anxiously rubbed the back of his neck with it.
"Huh?" He whipped his hand out of her sight, looking down at the ugly bruise. "Oh, I-I. . . I did it last night—when I was drunk. Sorta tripped an' fell." He'd forgotten about it showing.
"Willie, let me see that." She tried to get in front of him to examine his hand, but he darted away.
"It's nothing, Carolyn. Just a bruise." He was beginning to feel even more panicked. And he was hurting all over.
"What's wrong, Willie?" she asked him gently.
"Nothin', I tell ya. I'm okay. Just. . ." He turned away again. "Just leave me alone."
"I'm sorry, Willie. I wasn't trying to push you. I can't help myself; I'm concerned about you. I don't always say the right things, I know that." Carolyn was at a loss. She did not know how to keep from driving him further away and was starting to think she was making a mistake even pursuing her interest in him.
"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay." He prayed she would accept that.
"I guess I'm trying too hard. But I know something is wrong."
"No, there—"
"I'd have to be blind not to see it." She stepped up behind him.
"You're wrong." He moved forward, keeping distance between them but not turning around.
"Willie, you're shaking. What is it?"
"Nothin'!" He felt his precarious control slipping. "Please, Carolyn, I gotta hangover—that's all." Willie was afraid he was about to break down. "Just—just let me get to work."
"All right, Willie," she said in frustration. "But I don't believe you. There is something wrong." She softened the edge from her voice when she continued, "I want to help, Willie." Carolyn reached out, placing her hand on his shoulder.
He felt the touch, more startling than painful. A strangled, "Don't!" escaped him, and he all but vaulted away. He put his hands over his face, emotions in check by a thread.
"Willie. . .? I— What's wrong?" She took a slow step toward him. "Something has happened to you."
He kept the distance between them, holding a hand out in a gesture to keep her from moving closer. "No. Just leave me alone, okay?" His voice was near to cracking.
"Don't you trust me?" She knew it wasn't fair to put him on a spot like that, but Carolyn was convinced he needed help.
Willie didn't answer. He took several halting steps to the chair at the antique desk and slowly sat down, unable to hide his wince of pain while trying to keep a semblance of composure, but the pain threatened to tear even that apart.
She went closer but didn't attempt to touch him. "You've been hurt," she said with dismay. "What happened? Did someone hurt you?"
"I don't wanna talk about it." He kept a hand pressed to his brow, shadowing his eyes.
"But, Willie. . . Do you need a doctor?" Carolyn stood beside his chair.
"No," he said tensely. "I'm okay." He looked up at her. "Look, Carolyn, you can do me a favor."
The look of desperation in his eyes tore at her heart. "What?"
"You can drive me to the bus station. I-I-I gotta go away for a while." He had not been looking forward to the cold walk through the snow and having to carry his baggage as well. He actually did not think he would be able to make it. But if Carolyn could take him. . . Hope pushed back the turmoil in him to a dull roar.
Carolyn's first thoughts and initial reaction was blaming herself for scaring him off and disappointment. But, with a staggering impact, she realized what she had not wanted to even consider. But it was so obvious to her now. She knew what had happened to Willie. "Barnabas. It was Barnabas!"
He turned his face away, ashamed that she knew that he had let another man hurt him. She didn't have to know how, knowing was bad enough.
Carolyn angrily pushed a long, blond lock of her hair away from her face. "Why, Willie?" she asked sharply.
It was almost more than he could stand. "It doesn't matter."
"Oh, Willie. I'm so sorry." She dazedly went to sit on the divan by the picture window. "Why would he do that?" She looked over at him, seeing only his back shaking. "Why did he hurt you?"
"It doesn't matter." He put his head in his hands, overcome with despair.
"Of course it matters. He can't get away with this."
"Well, what are you gonna do about it, unh?" he said, turning and piercing her with a pained, bitter stare.
She looked away. "I don't know. But he shouldn't be allowed to get away with it." Her gaze returned to him. "How could you let him do that to you?" She wasn't sure what Barnabas had done to him, but she suspected he had beaten Willie with something.
Willie felt a sob rise in his aching chest and lowered his head to his hands again. He wanted to leave the room, to be away from her mortifying questions, but the energy he usually possessed was gone, used up in his internal battles, fighting to keep control, to keep the pain in check when he moved. Hot tears escaped his eyes, running onto his hands.
"Oh, Willie, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." She stood up. "Why did he do it, Willie? How could he?"
He didn't answer, lost in confusion and despair and dread that he wouldn't get out in time. Willie forced himself to his feet, holding onto the back of the chair.
"Willie, please? Please talk to me!" She tried to get in front of him as he started toward the staircase.
"I gotta finish packin'." He had to push her aside to get to the stairs.
"Willie, don't." She followed. "Don't leave."
"I can't stay, Carolyn." He turned and looked down at her. "He's comin' back at five. I don't wanna be here."
She watched him turn slowly and trudge on up. "I thought. . . I thought he'd been good to you. I thought he was pleased with you." She began to follow again. "Did you do something wrong?"
Willie shuddered, nearly breaking down, but he found control somewhere and kept going.
"Willie, what— "
"Would you just leave me alone?" he pleaded, half-turned toward her. "It doesn't matter now. I just wanna get away from here."
She just stared at him, not knowing what to say any more. He turned away again and went down to his room.
He was in hell, he thought. Willie wished he were dead. Memories from Wyndecliffe nagged at him, and he knew he had wished for death in that hospital. Specific instances would not come to mind, only some memories of feelings. But at the same time, he did not want to die; he wanted happiness as much as any living creature but could not seem to find it. Life had become a series of bad memories and hurt feelings.
He was not going to give up, though. Uncovering his remaining possessions on the bed, Willie knelt down beside his suitcase which he had pulled out from under it. Slowly, shaking still, he packed. He was unaware of Carolyn standing on the threshold, watching him with tears in her eyes. He would not have stopped had he known she was there.
It did not take long to finish—he did not have that many things to begin with, and he didn't want to carry much. The very idea of having to carry anything filled him with despair because it would be so hard. He closed the old grip and lifted it onto the bed, then got up himself. He could feel Carolyn's presence behind him. "Are you gonna take me to the bus station?" he said, turning around to face her.
A moment passed before she answered. "All right. If that's what you want."
"Yeah." He looked at her. "I'm sorry, Carolyn. I. . .I can't help it."
"I know, Willie." She wondered how he was able to stand there in one piece without collapsing—his face could not hide all his boiling emotions. Carolyn wanted to reach out and hold him, but knew he would never permit that. "You've been a victim; it isn't your fault."
He looked down. "If you want to go on, I'll be down in a minute." He wanted to make sure he hadn't left behind anything he wanted to keep, but mostly he wanted a few minutes alone to get a better hold of himself.
"All right." She left him and descended the stairs. She was depressed and upset for him. And she didn't know what she could say to Barnabas the next time she saw him.
She went over to the drawing room window and stared out. A car turning up the snow-covered rocky drive caught her attention. She wondered what to do when she realized it was Barnabas. Doubtless, Willie would have heard the car coming, she thought.
He had heard it coming and glanced quickly at his watch. It was only 2:45pm. He resisted his first impulse to run tell Carolyn to get out as fast as she could. There was no way Barnabas would miss seeing her car. What he would think and do about it, Willie couldn't bear to consider. He bit the knuckles of one hand, feeling trapped and doomed, and afraid.
Carolyn couldn't make up her mind how she should handle the situation. She had no desire to pretend she was there to see Barnabas; she wanted to tell him what a cruel beast he was, but she didn't know if Willie wanted Barnabas to know she knew what happened. And she couldn't just leave, she had promised to drive Willie away. More than that, she didn't want to leave Willie alone with Barnabas.
Barnabas noted Carolyn's car as he parked his, wondering and worrying what its presence at the Old House could mean. After last night he didn't think Willie would dared to have gone up to Collinwood. Undoubtably he wouldn't feel that well. Barnabas didn't get angry at Willie, he was frustrated. Apparently Carolyn had a mind of her own in this matter. He knew he should never have tried to interfere. But he had lost control in an almost unfamiliar rage. Poor Willie had suffered for it.
He entered the house after stomping snow from his shoes and with practiced ease shed his cloak and hung it on the rack. He looked up to see Carolyn quickly avert her eyes from him.
"I saw your car outside, Carolyn. Is there something I can do for you?" He looked at her closely, noticing her tenseness.
"No, I. . ." She couldn't think what to say. "I was just a little restless and wanted to get out of the house." She turned away from him, her hands shoved down into the pockets of her coat.
"Were you waiting for me? I wasn't due back until five—"
"I wasn't waiting for you." She could not keep the edge out of her voice.
"You were waiting for Willie," he said matter-of-factly.
"That's right."
Upstairs, Willie cringed. He was standing at the end of the hall so he could hear what they said. His door remained open for a quick retreat if necessary.
Carolyn turned around and looked at Barnabas, her eyes cold and hard with anger. "How could you, Barnabas? How could you?"
"How could I what?" he said, turning away, ashamed.
"You know very well what I mean. How could you hurt Willie like that?"
"He told you?"
"No. I guessed. Why did you do it, Barnabas? Why? What could he have done that was so terrible you'd hurt him like that?"
Barnabas wouldn't turn around to face her. "I lost my temper."
Carolyn bit back a sarcastic comment and was silent a moment. "That still doesn't give you the right—"
"Carolyn, I will not be answerable to you for this. It is between Willie and myself."
"He doesn't want to talk to you—he doesn't even want to see you. And I don't blame him."
Barnabas felt anger flaring in him. "I will not discuss this with you." He turned around, looking sternly down at her.
"He's not going to stay around here with you, you know. He's leaving," she said defiantly.
"Is he?" Barnabas said with almost malice. "We'll see about that."
Willie listened with increasing dread. Now Barnabas was angry—he could hear it in his voice. Willie wanted to run and hide somewhere but knew that would not stop Barnabas if he were determined. He saw his only chance as joining them and trying to talk it out. It was so hard to make himself move down the stairs, closer to the man who had almost unintentionally become the master of his spirit. Barnabas had never broken him, but he had become the focal point of Willie's shattered world. He had stripped away his defenses, leaving him vulnerable at a time he needed them most; and afterwards he was there to keep Willie down—he was his salvation and at the same time, his doom.
Barnabas had ascended a few steps and looked up to see Willie standing at the head of the stairs holding onto the corner post of the banister as if he were having an attack of vertigo.
"Barnabas, leave him alone," Carolyn protested. "I won't let you hurt him ag—"
"Calm down, Carolyn. I've no intention of hurting him. It'll be all right." He continued up.
Willie loosened his grip on the post, humiliated by Carolyn's standing up for him. The sight of the man against whom he had no self-protection slowly approaching him, took away his resolve to face them. He backed away from Barnabas, close to pleading or running. He forgot about his aches and pains, kneading his trembling hands together. "Barnabas. . . I-I-I didn't—I didn't go against what you said."
"It's all right, Willie." He turned and raised his voice to talk down to Carolyn. "Excuse us, Carolyn." Looking back at Willie, he said, "Why don't we go into your room?"
Willie didn't say anything but turned to go to his room. Barnabas didn't seem angry, but he was afraid nonetheless. The other man shut the door behind them, and it made Willie feel he was isolated from the world, like he would never get out.
He stood by his dresser, looking down at the antique wooden surface covered in a variety of small scratches. His suitcase was again hidden under the bed. He waited for Barnabas to speak, trying to ignore the pounding of his own heart.
Barnabas was finding it difficult to humble himself to Willie. If Willie had tried to defend himself, or show some kind of fight, it would not have been so hard for him to consider apologizing. But he could not understand a tenth of what the younger man was going through. So often Willie's behavior and reactions confused him—he had been rash and foolish, not seeming to think things through before he acted, and at other times he showed keen insight into situations and shrewd thinking. But the latter had been rare since Wyndecliffe, just as the former had been rare before the shooting. Barnabas seldom stopped to think about Willie's change in behavior. He could not help but think of it now with him standing a few feet away full of obvious apprehension.
"Willie, I wanted to tell you that I believe I was wrong in trying to interfere in your personal life. And I'm sorry I was so harsh with you." He looked down when Willie turned to look at him. "I'm not sure what came over me, and I'm somewhat concerned about it."
Relieved, Willie didn't know what to say. "So, you're not mad—that Carolyn's here?" Barnabas shook his head. "I-I'm glad you're not. You know, I didn't know she was comin'—"
"Never mind that, Willie. I won't intrude again." He looked him in the eyes, trying to understand why Willie was suddenly blinking and looking away. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah. I'm okay." He didn't like feeling so open, the way his hurt had just come right up when he had been looking into Barnabas' dark eyes.
"Are you sure?" He moved closer, tilting his head to try and see the other's face more clearly.
Willie had by no means regained his trust of Barnabas. He looked up, quickly stepping back. "I-I'm fine."
"Willie, I know," he cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "I know you're probably not feeling too well. I think it would be a good idea for Julia to look at you."
"No!" He didn't want anyone to touch him, let alone examine him. He had suffered enough personal invasions for ten lifetimes. "I don't need that. I'm okay. I swear I am."
Barnabas saw that his suggestion distressed him more than he seemed to be in discomfort and decided to let it drop for the moment. "Carolyn mentioned that you were intending to leave."
He tensed and looked down, feeling his aching and pain start wearing him down again. He was also embarrassed. "W— Well, I just realized, I. . .I was gettin' kind of restless. I mean, I'm not goin' anywhere with this. . .with workin' here at the Old House." It was all true, but it was not his reason for wanting to leave this time.
"I see." He sensed Willie truly meant what he was saying, even if it was just his excuse now. "You want to make more of yourself?"
"Yeah." Willie looked at him, and it still hurt. He had to look away before he started getting emotional again.
"I don't want you to leave, Willie. You have been quite helpful to me in sparing me several out-of-town trips. If you're interested, I could make you a. . .well, a junior business partner."
Willie had to look at him. "Thanks, Barnabas, but I. . . I don't know. I mean, I don't know if it's what I want." He still didn't trust him enough to want to work that closely with him. He was afraid of what would happen when he made a mistake.
Barnabas wondered if he could count on Willie to conduct himself properly. "Please give it a try, Willie. I'll even allocate a certain portion of each month's profits to you for you to invest on your own. It would be good training for you. Your instincts seem to have been right so far. What you get from it, you may keep." He arched his brows in question. "Is that not fair?"
"Well, yeah." He was surprised by Barnabas' generosity. "You'd give me that kind of money?"
"For you to invest wisely, Willie." Watching him, he waited to see what kind of answer he would give. "Do you accept?"
Willie knew he would. Now that it seemed safe, he couldn't bear to give up his security. "Yes, Barnabas, I do. Thanks."
"Good. But before we get any further, we must have an understanding about certain things."
"What do you mean?" Here's the catch, Willie thought.
"Well, I want you to know what I expect from you. A professional attitude, Willie. You must conduct yourself as a gentleman. And what you do reflects upon me. Please keep this in mind."
"Okay. I-I know what you mean." As if Barnabas ever treated him like a gentleman, Willie thought bitterly. He ignored the stray thought that he was walking into a web that would only entangle him thoroughly if he accepted money and profits from the other man. He would become less himself as Barnabas made him into what he thought he should be. Willie had completely lost himself. Most of the time he didn't know what he wanted, he only knew what he didn't want. He felt his life meant nothing. And here was an offer he did not particularly want, but it was better than any feasible alternative he could think of.
"Good. And if you have any questions—" He stopped, hearing the faint sound of another car. "I will go over everything with you," he continued. "It will not be vastly different from what I've had you doing already."
"Okay." Willie looked at him steadily now, trying to find his inner footing so he would be able to calm his nerves.
Carolyn bit her lip anxiously. Barnabas wouldn't dare do anything to Willie with her there. It must be hard for Willie, she thought, pacing the drawing room floor. He had looked so scared, standing at the top of the stairs, forced to face the one who had hurt him. She would like to have stayed with him, but knew that would have made him more uncomfortable.
When she heard another car pulling up, Carolyn was not sure what to do, but upon seeing Dr. Julia Hoffman, she found herself intensely furious with Barnabas again. "Julia," she said quickly. "I think there's something you need to know."
"Carolyn, what are you doing down here?" the doctor asked as she hung her coat on the rack next to Barnabas' cloak. Carolyn had never warmed herself up sufficiently to remove her own. The Old House always retained such a chill. She didn't know how Willie stood it, or even Barnabas now.
"I came to talk to Willie. Julia, Barnabas has. . ." She looked at her for a moment, then turned away, not knowing how to put it.
"Barnabas has what?" She followed her into the drawing room.
"He. . .he hurt Willie. Last night sometime. I don't know, but Willie is. . ."
Julia tried to absorb the news. "He's not dead, is he?"
"No, of course not, but he's all bruised and. . ." She felt like crying, thinking of the way he had seemed—so emotionally fragile and scared.
"And what?" Julia found it hard to accept. "He's all right, isn't he? Barnabas hasn't reverted, has he?"
"No, no. I don't know what happened exactly. W—"
"Are you sure it was Barnabas?" The older woman said, her mind rejecting what she did not want to believe about him.
"Yes. Of course! Willie's in pain. He didn't want to admit it. Oh, Julia," she turned and looked up at her. "He seems so hurt. He didn't want me to know, but I could see there was something wrong. I could just kill Barnabas."
Julia was shocked. She could not imagine the man she knew today as Barnabas actually hurting Willie. In the past he had been quite cruel to the young man. She had even once suspected that the vampire had beaten him, but had been in too precarious a position herself to interfere. But since Barnabas' first return to normal health and Willie's release from Wyndecliffe, she did not think he had ever raised a hand to Willie. She knew he was in no shape to deal with it. The very fact that Willie stayed on and cared so much for Barnabas was clear evidence he was not fully dealing with his feelings. Violence from Barnabas could trigger an untimely release of his deep-rooted anger and resentment. Julia felt that Willie would eventually come to terms with all his feelings for Barnabas when he was emotionally ready. If Barnabas had beaten him, the damage he would sustain might be irreparable or set him on a course that could lead to self-destruction. She regretted that she had never actively worked to help Willie. She hoped it would not be too late now.
"Where is he?" she asked, meaning Willie.
"They're both in Willie's room."
"I'd better go up. Wait here." She went up the stairs without hesitation and walked into Willie's room without knocking.
Both men saw her and looked away, embarrassed for different reasons. Willie slumped wearily onto his bed, closing his eyes at the pain.
"Julia, I'm glad you're here," Barnabas said, lying. Her icy glare told him that she was aware of his foul deed and kept him from looking at her for very long. "Since you know, you might as well examine him to—"
Willie leapt off the bed and stood in the corner. "No, I'm okay."
"Willie, calm down," Barnabas said gently. "I think you should make certain he's all right, Julia."
"No," Willie said vehemently, shaking his aching head.
"You could have a serious injury, Willie," Julia told him. "It would be best if you'd come down to the hospital for X-rays."
"No, I'm okay, I tell you." He could feel his heart beating so hard it was almost painful.
"Willie, don't be so uncooperative," Barnabas said firmly.
"Please, I don' need to see a doctor."
Julia stepped toward him. "Willie, it's all right. I won't hurt you. You might have a blood clot or infection."
He turned his back, stepping further into the corner. "No, I'm all right."
"Willie!" Barnabas said sharply.
He winced, cringing, and Julia gave Barnabas another cold glare. "You'll only make things worse if you talk that way." She turned back to Willie, still a few feet away from him. "Willie, I promise you, I'll be as gentle as I can be."
This was so humiliating, he thought. He wasn't afraid of her hurting him, he just did not want her or anybody else touching him. He'd rather suffer with pain to get well on his own, than be helped if the treatment required someone to lay a hand on him. Unless he invited it, a touch was an invasion and Willie wasn't inviting anyone to touch him. "Leave me alone," he said, voice cracking.
"Willie," she moved closer, about to put her hand on his arm.
"No!" He turned around, looking at them, salty moisture brimming up in his eyes. He felt trapped and found it hard to breathe. Feelings he didn't know he had, but were buried for so long were clamoring for expression. Icy heat rushed up his chest, clinging to his ribs, and entered his head, making him feel almost dizzy and disoriented. Fear, more palpable than the other emotions, held him in a painful grip. Rationality slipped rapidly away from him. Willie pushed Julia's hand away from him and darted past her and Barnabas and stood near the door. He almost bolted out of the room, wanting to run away and never see them again. But Carolyn's presence downstairs kept him from it; he knew he could not get past her without making things worse.
Barnabas and Julia looked at each other, and he looked quickly away. "It's all right, Willie," she said.
He was shaking and breathing hard, and looked over at her. "Leave me alone, I'm okay."
Barnabas was embarrassed to see the tears streaming down Willie's face. Julia was concerned and saddened. "No one is going to force you, Willie." When did he learn to be that afraid of a doctor's help? she wondered. Perhaps recovering from the bullet wounds in his back had affected him more deeply than anyone thought. The reports in his file from the state home had not indicated any trouble of that nature. He had been quiet and reticent for the most part, with only a few bad episodes after being put in the ward. There were no notations to the daily reports during his physical convalescence, nothing whatsoever about his mental state during that time, except for his apparent loss of memory and irrational fear of the dark. And Julia knew the reason for the latter. Nothing she could see would explain his reaction now; he had not been in a hospital since Wyndecliffe except to work. Her best guess was that he was ashamed and didn't want her or another doctor to see the condition of his body. She decided that must be the answer.
"Relax, Willie. Calm down," she tried to soothe him. "I won't examine you if it bothers you that much. But I would like to talk to you."
He didn't want to talk to her. Willie hated that they had seen him falling apart. He was ashamed of himself. Turning away, he wiped his face with his hands and prayed they would leave.
Wisely Barnabas said nothing. Julia looked at him and nodded toward the door. He tried not to notice how Willie moved away as he passed him. Barnabas shut the door behind him, leaving them alone.
"Willie, why don't you sit down on the bed," Julia suggested.
He did not answer or move but felt anger and indignation. And a craving he tried not to feel. The need for love and acceptance, comfort and reassurance was intense, but overlain with sullen fury.
"Willie, I want to help you. Please."
"I don' wanna talk about it." He kept his back to her when she tried to move around in front of him.
"Willie, I know what you must be going through. I can help you, but you'll need to talk to me about it, about what you feel."
He would have left the room had he not thought that Barnabas was on the other side of the door to be sure he did not leave. She could not possibly know what he was going through, he thought, and he'd be damned if he would tell her.
"Willie, you're only making it harder on yourself." Julia knew she could not reach him now. The hurt was still so fresh, and in spite of dependence on Barnabas, Willie's private, independent nature, which had frustrated his doctors at Wyndecliffe, would make him keep it all inside.
"I tol' ya, I don't want to talk about it. Please, just leave me alone." Why did they have to make it so much harder? he thought.
"Willie, Barnabas hurt you, he was violent with you. You can't just close it up and hope it goes away. I can see how upset—"
He could not stand to hear any more. "Would you please stop it!?" He turned and looked at her, trembling all over, gesturing tensely with his hands. "I don't want your help! I don't need it. You're only making things worse!" Willie was close to shedding more tears but fought it desperately.
"All right, Willie," she backed off. "But I want you to know that you can come to me if you need to." Almost as an after thought, she pulled a small bottle of pills from her purse. Julia didn't always carry a medical bag, but kept a few "essentials" in her handbag.
"I don't." He looked down and moved toward his bed, stopping to hold onto the brass bar at the foot of it.
She looked at him; he was so dejected and miserable. Barnabas was certainly going to hear her opinion of his cruelty. "Willie, here are some painkillers. These are a little stronger than aspirin. Take two." She didn't tell him they contained a mild tranquilizer. She set the bottle on his dresser and left quietly, shutting the door behind her.
Willie lowered himself slowly down on the bed. Now was one of those times he wished he would fall asleep and never wake up. It was all he could do to keep despair from overcoming him. It was bad enough that he had been beaten, but having his nose rubbed into the fact was almost more than he could bear right now. His self-esteem was low enough already—he didn't need episodes where he was put to the test, knowing he would fail, and did fail, and had as a result, his shaky self-image further lowered. Since the automobile accident, Willie had seldom liked himself any more. There had been a time after Wyndecliffe when he was pleased with himself and hadn't felt so useless, but it had been a blind, forced reaction built on relief from being free and his lack of comprehension for his own motives. But he had grown a lot as a person since Wyndecliffe and had slowly regained some of his "street" sense. And his desire for dignity had found its proper place with him. It no longer was so much affected by circumstance—it was constant, yet tempered and not as buried. He'd fight to keep it if he could. Insecurity and fear were his dignity's worst enemies, and he couldn't control those some of the time. Willie's self-respect was at a minimum now, because he cared about his dignity, tried to hold onto it when it was being ripped away by fear he could not control but thought he should be able to. He didn't know why his fear could be so intense, he just knew he hated himself for it.
Willie tried to get comfortable, but he ached all over. He knew he should get up, but didn't know what to do when he did. So he lay on his bed, letting sadness flow over him in cold waves, chilling his body and making his face grow hot.
Julia marched down the stairs, her eyes burning with anger as they fell upon Barnabas. He stood in silence, staring out the window, expecting a tirade from Julia. Carolyn had not spoken a word to him when he had come down. She just stared grimly out the window, imagining what must be happening to Willie and feeling profoundly sorry for him.
"Barnabas," the doctor said, the word clipped and sharp. "I hope you know what you've done."
"Yes," he said, unable to think of another answer.
"Why did you do it?" she demanded.
"That's none of your concern," he responded coldly. "I fell into an uncontrollable rage. I don't know why. I'm afraid something is about to happen. The curse may return to me."
"That isn't much of an excuse," she said, although she was concerned that his curse may return. "That doesn't help Willie at all. You have no idea how detrimental brutality is to someone in his mental state. He may never get over it."
"I'm sorry, Julia. But I think he'll be all right. He was quite calm until you came in."
"My coming in was not what upset him, Barnabas. You don't realize how dependent he is upon you. He trusted you, and you hurt him badly. You hurt him before, and you don't see him hating you for it, do you? He forgave you and considered you a friend. I'm not really sure why either. By all rights, he should hate you." She glanced at Carolyn who had been listening, her heart sick for Willie.
"Julia's right, Barnabas. You put him through some terrible times, and he always protected you."
Barnabas turned to face them, annoyed at their onslaught of criticism. He was sorry he had hurt Willie, but it should be up to Willie to settle with him, he thought. "Please, I'm aware of everything you're saying. I've told both of you that I could not help it."
"And that's it?" Carolyn said. "You couldn't help that you hurt him so badly he can't even move without pain."
"You have no idea how hard it is for him, do you?" Julia asked, stepping in front of Barnabas to keep him from walking away from them. "He's been—"
"Julia, please. I've already apologized to him. I'm trying to make it up to him. What else can I do?" Barnabas had accepted his guilt and did feel badly about it, but did not want to be called down by Julia and Carolyn.
"What are you doing to make it up to him? What could you possibly do?"
He moved around her, rejecting his first impulse to tell her it was none of her concern. "I'm going to give him further business training and a raise in position and salary."
"I'll bet that makes his pain and humiliation go away," Carolyn said sarcastically.
Barnabas said nothing, staring at the layers of pale blue wax that had collected around the base of one sconce in the large standing candelabrum in front of him. He suddenly remembered telling Willie to clean it several days before.
"You seem to have no sensitivity where Willie is concerned," the doctor observed quietly.
Barnabas lost his patience at her remark. "I cannot undo what has been done."
"Obviously, so don't expect him to just continue on being your loyal friend as if nothing had happened. I don't think that's possible or even healthy for him in his mental state."
"Well, in precisely what kind of "mental state" is he?"
Julia was surprised at his question, though not the sarcastic tone of it. "Well, he suffered a mental breakdown when he was shot. And he has apparently fixated on you, Barnabas, in a positive way. I don't know why, but I think it's probably because you effected the most drastic change in his life when you put him in your power. Why he has turned that around and made the best out of it, instead of looking at it for all the trouble it's caused him, I don't know either. But I think it says something about the kind of person he is, that he can forgive you. If, indeed, he has."
"That still doesn't answer my question, Julia. You seem to think he's incapable of dealing with this. I want to know why you think that. I know he doesn't often seem to think before he acts any more, but he's gotten better about that. Otherwise, I don't see that he is so changed from the way he was before he was sent away."
"If you can't tell, it's because you don't want to see." She was disgusted. "There's nothing wrong with Willie that kindness and consideration and patience won't cure. If you can't seem to come up with that then he's better off not facing up to what you're really like." She turned away from him, disappointed that he was being so callous, and went to get her coat from the rack. "I came down to tell you that I'm going up to Wyndecliffe for a while. I'm not sure when I'll be back." She looked at Carolyn standing there not knowing what to do. "If anyone needs me, please call, and I'll come as quickly as I can. Goodbye."
Carolyn didn't know whether to leave, go up and see Willie, or continue berating Barnabas. She finally decided after a strained silence and made her way upstairs. She knocked on Willie's door.
"Yeah?" He opened the door, turning away in shame when he saw it was Carolyn.
"Willie, I just. . ." She realized her mistake, that it was hard from him to face her. "I just wondered if you wanted any aspirin or something?"
"No. Thanks. I-I just took some pills Julia gave me." He stood, holding onto the door now, ready to shut it.
"Oh. Well. . .if you need anything. . ." She started to turn away, but turned back before he could close the door. "Willie, you don't want to leave now?"
He looked out at her, and for some reason she seemed very distant. He thought of being on his own now, out somewhere where he wouldn't know if he'd get a meal of a bed from night to night, unable to make even a temporary alliance with another person drifting. . .the cold, the uncertainty, the risks, not knowing if he would suddenly find himself in trouble, hurt. . .no one there who would give a damn. . . "No," he said shakily. "Everything's gonna be okay. I don't wanna leave."
She wondered if he believed that himself. "He's not forcing you to stay, is he?"
"No," He tried to smile. "He even offered to make me his business partner."
Carolyn nodded. "Well, I'll leave you to rest now. I'll—I'll see you later."
"G'bye, Carolyn. Thanks." He shut the door as she walked away and leaned on it. "I gotta stay," he murmured to himself. "Got no place to go. But it's gonna be okay. I'm sure it is."
*