"Well, where are you going this morning, cousin?" Quentin Collins asked, intercepting Carolyn on her way to the foyer.
She wrapped a scarf around her hair, looking up at him as she tied it. "I'm going to the hospital."
"Oh, yes, that's right. Poor Willie is sick."
Carolyn didn't appreciate his sarcastic tone. "He was attacked and hurt. I can't understand what you have against him. Ever since around Thanksgiving you've acted like he's some sort of major criminal. Why?"
Quentin just looked at her a moment. "Did you send him flowers, too?"
"Quentin! What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing, my dear. I'm not the one who likes Willie so much. I'm surprised you weren't there all day yesterday."
"Are you jealous of him?"
"Of Willie Loomis? You've got to be joking. He's a loser. I mean, to let a woman like Roxanne get away. . . I can't imagine what she saw in him. And I heard in town about that scene at the Blue Whale. You don't think I could be jealous of a guy who'd let another man slap him without doing something about it?"
"You don't know anything about it," she said, angry now and sorry for Willie that the town would think of him as Quentin did without knowing that it wasn't Willie's fault he couldn't fight back. "And I would've spent all day with him yesterday, but every time I called, they weren't allowing visitors." She moved past him to get her coat from the entryway. She hadn't known Quentin knew the woman Willie had been engaged to a couple of years ago. And even if he denied it, she could tell he was jealous. Perhaps this Roxanne had put him in his place, she speculated.
When she arrived at the hospital and was admitted to Willie's room, he was asleep curled on his right side. She first noticed the still obvious bruises on his face, somehow not expecting to see any. She set her purse down in one of the two padded chairs in the room and went to the bedside to look down at him, resting a hand on the raised rail. His head, and left arm and leg rested on pillows and a blanket and sheet covered him up to his chest and were tucked under his arm.
When her presence failed to wake him after a few minutes she moved to a chair and sat down. If it depressed her to see him like this, she thought, it must make him feel even more down to be like this—especially after all that had happened to make him feel low.
She stared at him on the bed, his breathing steady, his face intense in sleep. A single IV bottle dripped fluid slowly into the tube which was hooked up to his left arm. Carolyn wondered how long she would be allowed to stay. Since he hadn't awakened, she did not see what difference it would make how long she remained with him. But at the same time, she was uncomfortable alone here.
The flowers she had ordered caught her attention, and it made her feel badly that they were the only ones to brighten up the room. Willie really didn't have any friends, she thought. Not even Julia or Barnabas had sent any, and she made a mental note to ask the doctor why not.
She turned at the sound of the door opening, expecting to see the nurse come in to tell her it was time to leave. Instead, Julia looked in, spotted Carolyn and entered. They both went to the far corner of the room from where the bed was.
Julia smiled. "I'm glad you came by," she whispered. "He's still asleep, isn't he?"
"Yes," she also whispered. "Julia, how is he?"
"He's doing much better today. He was calmer and more relaxed this morning than he has been."
"He hates it, doesn't he?"
"Yes." She studied Carolyn closely. "I haven't really talked to him today yet, so I don't know if he is still feeling the way he was yesterday."
"What do you mean?"
"He had a bad dream about Barnabas and was terrified of him. I had to tell him that Barnabas wouldn't be allowed to see him."
"I'm not surprised." Carolyn looked over at the sick man. He was shifting his position in the bed, roused by their whispers. She went to the bed. Julia smiled at her, then went out.
Willie had been glad to find enough strength to turn over by himself now. He rolled onto his back, letting the extra pillows fall to the side. Sliding to the middle was exhausting, and he wasn't quite able to get comfortable. It suddenly occurred to him that the nurse had not come over to help.
He hadn't any sooner come to this realization and opened his eyes, than Carolyn had decided to help him. "Here, let me—" She looked down at his startled expression, and drew her hands back from the edge of the bed covers.
"Carolyn," he said hoarsely. "I-I didn't—" A spasm of coughing interrupted him.
"Are you all right?" She was distressed by his face turning red and grimacing. She could see he was trying to turn back on his side and reached forward to his shoulder, pulling him toward her.
It cost Willie a great deal to have her see him like this, especially needing her help. But he could do nothing about it. When the coughing had passed, he noticed her gently rubbing his back and cringed inside with shame.
To Carolyn it felt natural to try to ease his discomfort. She moved her hand up to his head, stroking down his hair. "Willie, are you all right?" She moved to take his hand with her other one and was surprised when he snatched his away and rolled onto his back again.
Willie did not like the attention. He didn't know how to handle it. He looked up at her, his face no longer red from just coughing. "Yes," he said, breathing hard from the exertion. "I'm okay."
"Do you want the nurse?" She refrained from touching him again, but nervously adjusted the bed covers. He shook his head and looked away. "Do you want these pillows?" She indicated the two that had supported his arm and leg.
"No," he sighed, and looked down to watch her pull them from beneath the cover and set them in a chair.
"I'm sorry if I startled you," she said, holding onto the rail.
"It's okay." He was embarrassed and uncomfortable, too tired to try to shift into a better position or center himself on the bed. And his chest and throat hurt from coughing. Willie just wanted to shut his eyes and go back to sleep.
"How do you feel?" She wondered if she had frightened him trying to take his hand. Probably not, she thought, and that only made it more disturbing.
"Tired, but okay." He couldn't meet her eyes now. "Uh, thanks for the flowers, Carolyn. I really appreciate it."
"I wish I could do more for you."
Willie closed his eyes. "It's okay." He wished it didn't hurt to breathe. And those damn breathing and bed exercises they had started him doing were only making him more miserable.
Carolyn thought he looked far from "okay" to her. His skin had gone pale now, and his brows were drawn together, creating small furrows between them. "Willie, are you in pain? Do you need the doctor?"
"No," he breathed. "I'm jus' tired."
She felt herself getting emotional and took a forced step back. "I'd better let you get some rest. I'll come back later or tomorrow."
"Thanks, Carolyn," he mumbled.
Carolyn wanted to touch him again with some kind of comforting gesture like giving his hand or shoulder a light squeeze, but she refrained, assuming he would not react well to it. "Goodbye, Willie." He did not answer before she went out. She told the nurse in the corridor that Willie didn't look comfortable, that he seemed to be in pain. The nurse assured her he would be taken care of, and Carolyn went to find Julia.
"I can tell by your expression that it did not go well," Julia said, ushering her into an empty office.
"It's what I told you about. He makes it so awkward."
"What did he say?" They sat in chairs in front of the absent doctor's desk.
"Almost nothing. He just kept saying he was okay. He didn't look it, Julia. He looked like he was in pain."
"Did you get the nurse for him?"
"When I left. I don't know if I should see him again. I told him I would, but I don't think he really wants to see me. I certainly didn't cheer him up."
"I'm sorry, Carolyn. I don't know what to tell you." She sighed, not understanding Willie's reluctance to talk to Carolyn of all people. She thought it could be that he did not want to talk to anybody. "He didn't mention Barnabas, did he?"
"No. He hardly said anything."
"Well, he is on medication. That may be part of it. His behavior is just so unpredictable. I almost expect him to try to leave as soon as he can stand up. That would be disastrous for his recovery. He must rest."
"But he hates it. Not being able to do anything. Just lying there. . ."
"I know. But he's so weak still. And I definitely plan on letting him out as soon as it's safe for him to convalesce at home."
"At the Old House? Julia, it's freezing out there. He'll catch pneumonia!"
"Well, I know he won't like it, but I'm considering having a nurse stay there for a few days to make sure he stays warm and gets enough rest."
"I don't think he would like it either, but that's a good idea. Julia, what's he going to do about paying all the hospital bills? You know, I'd be happy to help with that—before he ever sees them so he won't know."
"That's kind of you, Carolyn, but it isn't necessary. Barnabas has already volunteered to take care of all the expenses. And, of course, I'm not charging anything for my services in this."
Carolyn nodded, relieved that Willie would not have to face paying off a huge medical bill. "May I ask you something, Julia?"
"Certainly."
"Who paid his bill the first time?"
"He was in the custody of the state. They assumed the expenses from this hospital, and until he was released into my custody and sent to Wyndecliffe." Julia intentionally did not mention that there had been some confusion as to who was paying for his care at Wyndecliffe because she had not been there to oversee the transfer. Upon his release from the infirmary, he was placed in the ward for several weeks, time that Julia did not know Willie remembered almost nothing of. The condition of most of the men in the ward, Julia did know, was not expected to improve, and their families saw little reason to pay more than the minimum for their care since, according to diagnosis, having more doctor's attention or privacy would have no visible effect. Julia had become aware that Willie was in the ward when she had read several vague reports about some kind of trouble they had with him and had called up there to find out more about it. She had him moved immediately to a semi-private room without ever being able to find out exactly what kind of problems he had been involved in in the ward. Since the trouble ceased and he began to improve, she did not pursue an investigation.
"And in there?"
"Well, it's my hospital. His care was on the house, so-to-speak."
"I always wondered about that."
"I've only told you because I know you care about him." She sighed and stood up. "I guess I'd better look in on him. I think you should visit him again, Carolyn. He's bound to get bored and lonely as he stays awake more.
"I know." Carolyn rose. "I guess I'll figure out what to say when I see him." She met Julia's eyes for a long moment, looking for support and reassurance.
"Willie needs you, whether or not he'll admit it even to himself. Just take it easy, and keep the conversation light—unless he wants to talk about himself or something that bothers him, which is highly unlikely."
"All right. I'm going on back to Collinwood now. Call if you'll be there for lunch."
"I will, thank you."
*
Willie's condition did not improve nearly fast enough to satisfy him. His nights and other hours he spent sleeping were often disturbed by unpleasant dreams about Barnabas or the hospital. He almost welcomed the nurses waking him to check on him. When they stopped staying in his room all the time, being alone in the dark filled him with the old familiar fear. He was afraid that Barnabas would hurt him or try to kill him for planning to betray him. Willie didn't awaken choking again, just sweating and chilled with terror. He hid it from Julia. But she had not asked him if he wanted to see Barnabas. She would come in and ask him how he felt to which he always told her he was okay. Her attempts to probe him for any of his deeper feelings, either physical or emotional, met with failure. But it wasn't easy for Willie to keep his feelings hidden, especially when he was drugged into passivity. The feeling of helplessness that aroused only increased his anxiety. If Julia had caught him waking from another nightmare, she might've known he was having them.
As he spent more time awake during they day, they brought him a television set. Stokes and Carolyn spent time with him, and until he had the tv, he dreaded their visits. Their kindness he appreciated very much, but he had little to say to them, and they could only make just so much small talk. Anything more personal he would evade. Willie was almost glad he was too weak or tired to be expected to become involved in any in-depth discussions. It was so convenient to be able to close his eyes and act tired. But Carolyn wanted to stay with him till he fell asleep. At least when he had the tv he could be distracted by it, even though his eyes tired quickly and ached if he looked at the screen for very long.
On top of his need to contain his feelings in front of others was the gratitude and guilt he felt to and about them. Gratitude to them for caring and showing it and guilt for not wanting them around him. He felt he would do anything he could for either of them except share his pain and fear.
On the morning Willie was finally allowed out of bed and to walk a little, Julia brought his pajamas from the Old House. He was glad to be rid of the loathsome shifts that made it easy for the nurses but made it hell for a self-conscious person. Later in the evening, she went in to see him as he finished a small supper. The television was on, showing a news broadcast.
"Good evening, Willie." She glanced at the news, knowing he would claim to be interested in it whether or not he was so that she could not politely turn it off.
"Hello, Julia." He looked at her briefly, then at the tv screen.
She went up to the bed. The sides were down for a while, but would be put up once he was settled for the night. "Willie, I know I haven't asked you this since you had that dream, but would you like to see Barnabas?"
He was leaning back against the raised bed and glanced at her. "Sure," he lied. His stomach tensed and twisted.
"You're not afraid? Or angry with him?" She was quick to notice a fleeting expression of inner turmoil or pain cross his face.
"No," he said innocently.
"Willie," she leaned up against the bed. "You can tell me if you are. I'll understand, and he'll understand."
"It's okay. There's nothin' to understand. Send him in." He stared at the picture tube, holding in the fear. Arms resting across the tray table, he gripped it hard so his hands wouldn't shake.
"All right, Willie. I'll send him in." She touched his white-knuckled hand, and he immediately relaxed both hands. "I won't leave you alone with him."
He sighed, looking down, not able to speak.
"Willie, talk to me." He did not respond. "I can't force you, Willie. I only want to help."
"Don' need it," he said quickly.
It was her turn to sigh. "I'll go get him."
When she was out of the room, Willie rubbed his hand over his face. He was sweating now and felt weaker than he had all day. He didn't want to see Barnabas, but at least Julia would be there. Although he had not told her, he was grateful to her for saying she would stay with them.
The door opening startled him, and he forced himself to remain calm. Barnabas went in behind Julia. She had told him Willie was still terrified but trying to hide it, and to do or say nothing threatening. He went only as far as the foot of the bed, looking at Willie with compassion. The bruises had all faded from his face, but his eyes flickered nervously before finally rising to meet his. The searching look was the same he had given him after Barnabas had beaten him and he had wanted to know why. Barnabas felt an enormous stab of guilt and looked down.
Julia, standing by the window, wondered what Willie's heart rate was. It was bound to be alarmingly high the way he was breathing.
Willie was not expecting Barnabas to look away first. His anxiety slacked off a little. He thought Barnabas must not know what he was going to do.
"Willie, how are you?" His gaze still rested on the foot of the bed.
"A-a lot bettah." Looking at Barnabas made him feel weak inside, as if he was still in his power. When Barnabas met his eyes again with a kind, concerned look, Willie felt a great emotional relief, strong enough to make his eyes burn and his throat tighten. He had to look away.
"I'm glad to hear it." He smiled. "I've missed you around the Old House."
"Yeah? Well, I. . .I wish I'd been there 'stead of here." He felt safe enough to look at him again and gave a wan smile.
Julia observed Willie's reactions closely, concluding that he had placed himself exactly where he had been before with Barnabas, in almost a child/parent relationship. She thought his fear, being more honest, was healthier for him. Now he had just buried the fear and unpleasantness to make it easier on himself. She knew he had not done so deliberately, with his conscious will, it was an internal self-defense tactic.
"Well, when you're ready to come home, I have everything set up for you. Julia says you'll need to rest for at least two weeks once you're out." He looked at her and she came forward.
"If you continue to gain strength at your present rate, you'll be out in a week," she told Willie.
"A week!" he protested. "W-w-well, I could leave tomorrow." He was bargaining for time, knowing they would never let him out tomorrow.
"Be realistic, Willie." She patted his hand. "I know how weak you are still. You can't even make it to the bathroom on your own yet." She was sorry she had said it when his face flushed red. "Look at it this way, your chances of falling ill again would be far greater if you left too early and stayed at the Old House with all its drafts and chills. I'd hate to see you back in here with pneumonia."
Willie didn't say anything. At least his hospital stay was not going to be so bad now that he could get out of bed. But it galled him that he had succumbed so thoroughly to a beating he could have walked away from before being shot. He knew they hadn't hit him as hard as they could have. He just wasn't tough any more. And now he was getting tired.
"I have a surprise for you back at the Old House, Willie," Barnabas said. "I think you'll be very pleased. And it should make things much easier."
Willie looked at him. "Don' tell me, you're having it wired?" he said only half seriously.
Barnabas looked at Julia suddenly. "I didn't tell him," she said.
"You are having it wired?" he said, astonishment reviving him somewhat.
"It was to be a surprise. But since you know now, I'll go ahead and tell you about it. I'm only having the main rooms done and the bedrooms that have been restored, and yours of course. They should be through in a few days. You would not believe the trouble I had arranging this. The local Fire Chief had to inspect the house and said it was a death trap, but that done properly, electrical wiring was much safer than candles. And there isn't an insurance company in America that would insure it in case of fire."
"I guess not."
"I loathe the way electrical outlets mar the beauty of the walls. I hope this is worth it. Elizabeth and Roger keep telling me I'll wish I'd done it long ago. They were actually responsible for my going ahead with it. Roger knew someone— Well, never mind, I'll tell you about it later."
Willie smiled a little. Such a big step for Barnabas. "What about a phone?" He tried to imagine an electrician crawling through the walls and between the floors of the Old House. It would undoubtedly be a difficult job. Even the thought of it was exhausting.
Barnabas looked at Julia again, and she shook her head.
"I don' believe it. You're getting a phone too?"
"That's right. I don't have the number yet, however."
"After all these years—I can hardly believe it." Willie realized suddenly he wasn't afraid any more. Although if Barnabas made one threatening move, he knew he'd crumble.
"Well, believe it. And it'll all be ready when you come back."
Willie smiled briefly. He was really feeling drained now. He knew they were still drugging him for his nerves, but it wasn't just that. He'd had a lot more activity during the day than before. "Thanks."
"I think Willie's getting tired now, Barnabas." She patted Willie's hand again. "I'll send a nurse in for your tray."
"Goodnight, Willie," Barnabas said gently. "May I see you tomorrow?"
"Sure. G'night, Barnabas." Willie shut his eyes, knowing it would do him little good till after the nurse had come in and gone. He thought about returning to the Old House. Doing so signaled the beginning of the crime he would commit. He would keep it from Barnabas because he had too. Carolyn might be killed because of him if he did not. He could not take a chance that they had been bluffing. His judgment was no longer good enough to be able to tell. And the worst that could happen to him if Barnabas found out was to be punished. He could kill him, but that would not be as bad as being punished. Or he could wind up in jail again. He'd rather die, he thought. The whole thing was upsetting to think of, but it was hard to turn off. The arrival of the nurse was for once a welcome distraction.
*