19: Petofi Strikes

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id53.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: New Orleans"><U><B>1:  New Orleans</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id54.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="2: Mary Margaret"><U><B>2:  Mary Margaret</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id55.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Rumrunners Row"><U><B>3:  Rumrunners' Row</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id56.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Speakeasy"><U><B>4:  Speakeasy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id57.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Sys Deal"><U><B>5:  Sy's Deal</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id58.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: Reunion"><U><B>6:  Reunion</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id59.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: Disaster"><U><B>7:  Disaster</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id60.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="8: Petofi"><U><B>8:  Petofi</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id63.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Cuddeback"><U><B>9:  Cuddeback</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id64.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="10: Angelique"><U><B>10:  Angelique</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id65.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Making Plans"><U><B>11:  Making Plans</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id66.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="12: Chicago"><U><B>12:  Chicago</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id67.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="13: Nora"><U><B>13:  Nora</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id68.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="14: The Gypsy"><U><B>14:  The Gypsy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id69.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="15: The Trap"><U><B>15:  The Trap</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id70.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="16: The Gift"><U><B>16:  The Gift</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id71.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="17: Beth"><U><B>17:  Beth</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id74.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="18: Together Again"><U><B>18:  Together Again</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>19:  Petofi Strikes</B></div> <div> <A HREF="id76.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="20: Kitcheners Strategy"><U><B>20:  Kitchener's Strategy</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U><B>Taking Wooden Nickels</B></U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>19:  Petofi Strikes</B></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U><B>Taking Wooden Nickels</B></U></A></div> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div>      It was easy to arrange to fly a small converted Junkers aircraft from Chicago to Roosevelt Field on Long Island. All he needed was the cash in hand-there were a few advantages to wealth after all. Quentin wanted to make sure the children had a safe place to stay.  His first choice would've been at the Healeys because they had four children, but because Dave didn't think it would be safe, he called Cholly.  If Cholly wasn't willing to help them, he'd have to think of something else.  He was surprised and relieved when Cholly answered the phone.  "Cholly?"  There was a silence.  "It's Frank, Cholly."</div> <div>      "Yes, I know," Cholly finally said.  "I didn't expect to hear from you again, Frank.  How are you?"</div> <div>      "In trouble--as usual, Cholly," Quentin said and half-laughed.  "I need your help.  I know there's no good reason why you'd want to help me after what I did to you, but--"</div> <div>      "What's the matter?"</div> <div>      "I'll tell you in a minute."  Quentin swallowed hard.  "I'm sorry.  I don't know why I'd think you'd betray me like I did.  I must've been crazy or something.  I wanted to talk to you, but I was too ashamed to call."</div> <div>      "If everything you told me in the letter is true,  then I can understand why you thought what you did," Cholly said softly.  "Frank, I forgive you.  It's all right--really.  What's the matter?"</div> <div>      Quentin cleared his throat.  "Bartelli is after my family.  I think he's done something to my brother, and I have to get to Maine to see him.  I--I got married, Cholly."  There was a surprised intake of breath.  "And my wife, she's got two kids--"</div> <div>      "Are you sure this is Frank Scott?"  Cholly broke in with a laugh.  "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself.  You?  Married?  Well, hell, congratulations.  What's this about Bartelli?"</div> <div>      Quentin explained as much as he could without throwing in the information about the portrait.  That would be just too much to get into over the phone.  As it was, he was talking a lot longer than he really wanted to.  To his relief, Cholly asked:  "What do you need me to do?  Take the kids for you for a few days?"</div> <div>      "Yes, if you don't mind," Quentin said, relieved.  "I can fly us up to Roosevelt Field.  We'll take the train in--"</div> <div>      "You don't have to do that,"  Cholly broke in.  "I'll come out there on the train and take the kids with me. Wait--I have an idea--"</div> <div>      "What?"</div> <div>      "Let me work on it here, Frank.  Get on the plane and come out.  I'll come out there and meet you."</div> <div>      Quentin let out a deep sigh.  "Thank you, Cholly.  You have no idea--"</div> <div>      "Stop, Frank.  I told you--you're the best friend I ever had.  You still are.  I'll see you in a few hours."  Cholly hung up.  Quentin stared at the phone in his hand, stunned.  Then he hung up and went to tell Beth the good news.</div> <div>      The children and Beth had never been in a plane before, and all three were frightened.  "There's nothing to it," Quentin explained patiently.  He told them about being a pilot during the World War and about the dogfights he'd been in.  "And there isn't going to be anyone else up there but us," he said.  </div> <div>      Once they were settled, the children enjoyed the take off; Beth's face was pale, and she squeezed Quentin's hand tightly.  "Don't you think the Red Baron MIGHT be hiding around in one of the clouds?" Peter asked from the back, somewhat hopefully.</div> <div>      "No chance, little man," Quentin laughed.  "Not unless he's got his wings and halo.  That gentleman is long gone."</div> <div>      "I don't think he'd be wearing wings and a halo," Beth said grimly.</div> <div>      He looked over at her.  "Your family didn't care for the Kaiser and his friends, eh?" he teased.</div> <div>      "We're AMERICANS, Quentin," Beth said irritably.</div> <div>      "Of course.  I'm sorry."</div> <div>      "You have no idea what people said during the war," Beth continued with uncharacteric crankiness.  "Some of the families changed their names because they sounded too German.  And they weren't--they were Norwegians, like us.  Like my father, anyway."</div> <div>      "You're really nervous about this plane, aren't you?"</div> <div>      "Why do you say that?"</div> <div>      "Because I every time I open my mouth, you just about take my head off, Beth.  Don't be nervous.  We're really safe up here.  I know what I'm doing."</div> <div>      She smiled a little weakly and put her hand high up on the inside of his thigh.  He looked at her, surprised, as she applied a little pressure.  "I know what I'm doing if I'm not distracted too much," he amended.  She laughed.  He looked at her again and smiled.  "I'm glad you weren't brought up in a Victorian household."</div> <div>      "My parents love each other.  Sometimes people say Germans are cold and unfeeling.  I don't know about that.  My mother is German and I never thought she was.  My parents are still in love with each other."  Beth sighed.  "I liked to see them hug and kiss each other.  I felt--safe."</div> <div>      "Do you feel safe now? No lies, remember."</div> <div>      "Well, to be honest with you--I'm still nervous.  But I feel safer when I'm with you."</div> <div>      "I remember being scared up in these things, flying over England," Quentin confided.  He began to talk to her about his experiences during the war, telling her things he hadn't shared with anyone but Jamison.  The children had fallen asleep as they were crossing Pennsylvania, making him think of Tannersville and Port Jervis.  "They'll like Cuddeback."</div> <div>      "I'm sure I will too.  I've never been there," Beth said.</div> <div>      "Maybe we can stop there before--" he stopped himself.  No, they had to go directly back to Chicago and take care of Petofi. "I'm scared, Beth," he admitted.  "But I'm glad you're here.  I was scared and lonely before, but now I'm just scared."</div> <div>      She squeezed his leg.  "We'll help each other."  She looked back at the two children.  "Sleeping like angels," she commented.</div> <div>      "I hope they'll be all right.  This is an awful lot of stuff to happen in such a short time."</div> <div>      "Children bounce back quickly, Quentin.  I worried about Peter after Seamus died, but he is all right.  They'll be fine."</div> <div>      "Yes, but then there's me now," he began.</div> <div>      "What?"</div> <div>      He sighed.  He began to tell her about Edward, and the sudden responsibilities thrust upon his brother before he was ready for them.  Beth listened as he talked and talked, telling her he'd never realized or appreciated the sacrifices Edward had made, the regret he felt for all the years of alienation between his brother and sister and himself.  When he'd talked himself out, Beth asked, "Are you afraid the same thing will happen between you and the children?"</div> <div>      He was relieved that she understood what he'd been trying to get at but was unable to express.  He hadn't even been sure what was bothering him until she put it into words.  "I don't want to hurt them," he said softly.</div> <div>      "Nobody's perfect," Beth said.  "I think I make mistakes but I don't think I've ever made a big enough one to hurt them.  I don't think you will either."</div> <div>      "But you're their mother," he pointed out.  "I'm just the man who showed up in your bed one morning."</div> <div>      "Being their mother doesn't make me a good mother," Beth said with a laugh.  There was something familiar about her words.  "Besides, they're so little, they may not remember how it was they met you--or if they do, they'll laugh about it.  You like children, Quentin.  That's the important thing."</div> <div>      "Ruth," he said.</div> <div>      "Ruth?"  She echoed, puzzled.   He remembered now.  He told her about visiting Ruth and Jamison in Glen Cove.  He remembered talking to Ruth about being a parent and what Ruth had said.  "She was right, Quentin.  She sounds like she was a wonderful person."</div> <div>      "She was," Quentin sighed.  "She was the light in Jamison's life, and now she's gone.  It's my fault, I told you about what happened--and now Jamison is drinking and he's having a hard time.  If he knew the truth, he'd never forgive me."</div> <div>      "You can't take all of the blame for what happened," Beth objected.</div> <div>      "But I got him into it--"</div> <div>      "By holding a gun to his head?  Really, Quentin, be sensible.  And as for the gangsters, everyone knows who is really behind the bootlegging business."  As Quentin began to protest, Beth patted his leg and continued, "Jamison is not a child anymore.  He probably knew a lot more than you think."</div> <div>      "I never thought of that," Quentin said, stunned.  He began turning things over in his head.  He remembered Ruth talking about Larry Fay inviting the most "interesting" people to his parties--had she meant the gangsters?  And Edward asking if Jamison would be so surprised at having to leave town so quickly...</div> <div>      "Well, stop feeling sorry for yourself," Beth advised.  "You'll be able to think clearer if you're not constantly blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong."</div> <div>      "Thank you, Beth," he said softly.</div> <div>      "You're not mad, are you?"</div> <div>      "Mad?  Hell, no.  That's probably the most helpful thing anybody's ever said to me."  He felt as though a big weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  "I love you, Beth."</div> <div>      "And I love you, too, my darling."</div> <div>      They were finally approaching Long Island's Roosevelt Field.  Quentin could see the runway and began to prepare the plane to land.  Beth blanched again as the plane started down the runway, landing, going back up in the air, and then coming down again.  She didn't let her breath out until the plane had come to a full stop.</div> <div>      Cholly was at the airport waiting for them.  He was with a woman who looked very much like him.  They had two boys in tow.  Quentin was wondering who they were when Cholly approached him and threw his arms around him.  Quentin hugged him back, gratefully, relieved that Cholly's broken nose had healed all right.  "Cholly, this is Beth, my wife," Quentin began.  Beth nodded, holding onto Katie.  Peter clung to her skirt.  "And Katie and Peter."</div> <div>      "Very glad to meetcha," Cholly said enthusiastically.  "Franky, Franky's family, I want you to meet my sister, Eleanor.  And these are my nephews, Richard and Steven."</div> <div>      Quentin was pleasantly surprised, remembering Cholly's depression at not being able to see his family.  "I am VERY glad to meet you," he said, shaking Eleanor's hand.  He looked at Cholly questioningly.</div> <div>      "Eleanor took care of me after I was hurt," Cholly explained.  "Ever since, I've been stayin with her and her family on the weekends.  That's where we'll take your kids.  Home--to Brooklyn."</div> <div>      Petyer and Cholly's older nephew were around the same age, sizing each other up, and smiling shyly at each other.  The younger boy was about two. "Your daughter's a little angel," Eleanor was telling Beth.  "I always wanted a little girl.  I'll look forward to taking care of her for you."  They began moving toward the old used Essex Quentin had bought in New Orleans.</div> <div>      "This still runs?"  Quentin laughed.</div> <div>      "It does good.  It's great for carrying lots of people around," Cholly laughed, too.  He and Quentin loaded the children's things into the trunk.  Cholly whispered:  "If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have got to see them.  Crazy, huh?"</div> <div>      "It is nutty how things work out," Quentin agreed.  "I got together with my brother again after Jamison was hurt.  I just don't understand why bad things have to happen for good things to follow."</div> <div>      "Maybe that's not the way to look at it, Frank," Cholly objected.  "Maybe it's something happens to show you how much you need someone else."  He put his hand on Quentin's shoulder.  "We'll take good care of your kids, Frank.  I think they'll especially be safe at my sister's.  That way we know for sure Bartelli won't get at them."</div> <div>      "Why not?"  Quentin asked.</div> <div>      Cholly laughed.  "Even if he knew where they were, he wouldn't come on my brother-in-law's property to touch them.  He's a pretty good friend of Lucky Luciano's.  Know who that is?"</div> <div>      "Jesus," Quentin said, stunned.  Everyone was in the mob, or knew of someone in the mob.</div> <div>      "No, not quite.  But you watch.  If Bartelli doesn't take control, I'll bet it'll be  Luciano," Cholly laughed again.  He slammed the trunk down and gave Quentin a piece of paper.  "This has my sister's number on it.  You just let us know when you want to come back and get the kids.  We'll meet you here again."</div> <div>      "I can't tell you how grateful I am, Cholly," Quentin said.</div> <div>      Cholly moved his hand to Quentin's face and stroked it affectionately.  Then he stepped back and moved to the driver's side of the car.  Beth had said goodbye to the children, hugging and kissing them.  Quentin came and shook hands with them gravely.</div> <div>      "Peter, you'll be a little man and look after Katie until we get back, right?"  The little boy nodded seriously.</div> <div>      "Hey, Beth," Cholly called as he got into the car, "congratulations!  You got yourself a real cat's meow there."</div> <div>      "Thanks, Cholly!" Quentin called back.  They watched the car pull away.  Quentin put his hands on Beth's shoulders.  "Are you all right?"  She nodded, even though her eyes were filled with tears.  "Cholly's a great guy.  They'll be fine."  Beth nodded again.  "You ready to go?"  This time, Beth shook her head no and then laughed.  He laughed, too, and hugged her hard.</div> <bR> <div>      The sun had already gone down by the time they got to the Collinsport Hospital.  Quentin took Beth around to the back entrance--he didn't know who would be watching the front.  He couldn't remember the visiting hours of the hospital and decided he really didn't care.  They entered through the kitchen, and surprised the two lone dishwashers there.  "Sorry, we're lost.  Stairs?"  Quentin asked.  Luckily, neither of them seemed very bright and showed them where to find the stairs.</div> <div>      "How are we going to know where to go?"  Beth asked.</div> <div>      "Good question," Quentin said.  They went up to the second floor and stepped into the corridor.  "There can't be that many sick people in here.  I'll ask at the nurse's station."  It was a tiny little hospital, really not much more than a clinic, with just the two floors.</div> <div>      Just then, a man in a police uniform exited one of the rooms with a chair.  He put it next to the door and sat down. Quentin had a feeling this might be where Edward was.  He took Beth's hand and approached the policeman who was, in reality, a deputy--according to his badge.  The man looked up cautiously when he heard them approach; he visibly relaxed when he saw them. "Can I help you two?"</div> <div>      "I'm looking for Edward Collins' room," Quentin said.</div> <div>      "You found it.  You family?"</div> <div>      "Yes, sir.  His--nephew.  Frank Healey. And my wife, Beth."</div> <div>      "He's got a visitor now, Mr. Healey.  Only two people allowed at a time."</div> <div>      Quentin bit his lip and  then asked, "Why are you here?"</div> <div>      The deputy squinted at Quentin.  "Because what happened to Mr. Collins and the chldren's nanny was suspicious.  I am here to see that nothing else happens."</div> <div>      Quentin felt his blood run cold.  "The nanny?  What happened to Frances?"</div> <div>      "She was attacked by vicious dogs, Mr. Healey."</div> <div>      "Is she here?"</div> <div>      The deputy pointed across the hall.  "That room, sir."</div> <div>      "Can we see her?"</div> <div>      "Yes, I don't think she'd mind having visitors."</div> <div>      "Deputy, would you mind letting Mr. Collins' visitor know that my wife and I are here?"</div> <div>      "I can do that for you, sure."</div> <div>      Quentin looked at Beth, who was staring at him with wide eyes.  She took his hand and clasped it.  They crossed the hall to the nanny's room.  Quentin knocked lightly at the door and then turned the knob, opening the door.</div> <div>      "Who's there?" a fearful voice called out.</div> <div>      "Frances?  It's Frank Healey," Quentin answered hesitantly.  The room was very dim.  He went in, with Beth right behind him.</div> <div>      "Mr. Healey," she said from the bed and sighed.  He imagined that she might not be pleased he'd come to see her.</div> <div>      "May I come in?"</div> <div>      "Please..."</div> <div>      "It's a little dark.  May I?"  Beth said, flipping on the light switch.</div> <div>      Frances threw an arm up over face and cried out, "NO!"  Beth quickly flipped the switch off but not before she and Quentin had gotten a good look at what was left of the nanny's face.  Both were too shocked to say anything.  Quentin could see that both of the nanny's arms were heavily bandaged as well as much of her face.  "I don't want anyone to see me," Francescried out.     Quentin swallowed hard and approached her bed.  He felt a feeling of horror building inside him.  There was a chair near her bed, and he eased himself into it.  Nervously, he turned his ring around and around.  Beth crossed to the foot of the bed, trying not to look at Frances.  "What happened, Frances?"</div> <div>      "A man set the dogs after the children," Frances replied hoarsely.  "I don't know why he would do such a cruel thing.  I've never seen him before."</div> <div>      "Are the children all right?"</div> <div>      "Yes, thank the good Lord."  Frances sighed.  "I'll tell you what I told the sheriff.  He has men looking for that men, but I believe he's gone.  He did what he came to do, and he left."</div> <div>      "What did he look like?"  Quentin asked fearfully.</div> <div>      "Tall.  Broad shoulders.  He was dressed all in black.  He looked like the Devil himself.  Black hair, black beard, black hat."</div> <div>      Quentin felt his blood run cold.  It sounded like Bartelli.  "Wh-when did you see him?"</div> <div>      "After Mr. Edward killed the beasts.  I only got a very brief glimpse of him, yelling about his dogs."</div> <div>      "Wh-what exactly h-happened?"</div> <div>      "It was a lovely day, so I took the children out to the garden for a little picnic.  I heard a man's voice call-he used an odd word.  Rainbow or something.  I could hear the beasts come crashing through the woods and into the garden, charging us.  I screamed for Elizabeth to get into the tree.  I had enough time to get Roger off the ground and grab for a stout stick when the first one was on me.  I tried to beat it with the stick, but it got ahold of my arm.  Somehow I pushed Roger up, and Elizabeth grabbed his little hands and pulled him into the tree with her.  They were screaming and screaming, the poor little things.  I tried kicking at the beast, but it wouldn't let me go.  And then the other one came.  Mr. Jamison was shouting, and then I heard the  shotgun.  And still, Mr. Edward had to pry the jaws of the dead beast from my arm…"  She sighed heavily again.</div> <div>      "You poor, brave soul," Beth said softly.  "You saved those children."</div> <div>      "Of course," Frances replied, sounding surprised.  "I wasn't going to let them be harmed."</div> <div>      But at what cost to you?  Quentin thought.  "What happened to Mr. Edward?"</div> <div>      "He told Mr. Jamison to call the doctor.  That man appeared and Mr. Edward went to him.  They were arguing.  I must have passed out.  The next thing I remember was waking up in here."</div> <div>      Quentin wondered if she'd been told about Edward.  The door opened slightly, and he turned to see Nora outlined in the doorway.  "Frances, I want you to know that I'm grateful for what you did for the children.  I'm sorry you were so badly hurt.  Would you excuse me?  I'll see you again before I go."  </div> <div>      Frances closed her eyes.  Quentin and Beth went into the hallway with Nora.  "Oh, I'm so glad you're here!" she cried, distraught.  "It's all so awful, and I'm so frightened!  Phillip didn't come with me, and Jamison is so different.  And Father…"</div> <div>      "Nora, take it easy," Quentin soothed, putting his arms around her.  She allowed him to hug her and actually hugged him back.</div> <div>      "Is there an empty room where we can talk?"  Beth asked a nurse who was about to enter Edward's room.</div> <div>      "There is a sitting room at the end of the hall," the nurse suggested.  Quentin and Beth took Nora into the small waiting room and sat down so that they could talk.</div> <div>      "What's the doctor say?"  Quentin asked immediately.</div> <div>      "Quentin, let her catch her breath," Beth interjected, putting her hand on Nora's head.</div> <div>      As if he hadn't heard her,  he asked:  "Is Jamison here?"</div> <div>      Nora looked up and glared at him.  "No!  He wouldn't come!"  Quentin stared at her with disbelief.  "Oh, I begged him to, but he wouldn't.  He made up some idiotic excuse about taking all the children to the Healeys' in Rockport.  I know why he wouldn't come, though.  He blames himself and wants to get drunk."</div> <div>      "Blames himself?"</div> <div>      "That he couldn't protect Father from that-whoever that man was.  Jamison has been like a wild man since I got here," Nora explained angrily.</div> <div>      "Do you know what happened, Nora?"</div> <div>      "Not the whole story-it just sounds so crazy.  It seems that Frances had Elizabeth and Roger out in the garden.  It seems this man was just walking through the woods and for some reason, he set his dogs on them…"</div> <div>      "Who says so?"  Quentin interrupted.</div> <div>      "Jamison.  He says the word Frances heard is one that dog trainers use to set attack dogs loose.  It's a-a-neutral word.  Something normally harmless in meaning to anyone else. But to the dogs, it means they should attack.  Jamison heard them screaming and looked out-he can't run, you know, so he called for Father.  And Father went out with his shotgun and killed the beasts."</div> <div>      "What kind were they?"</div> <div>      "Jamison thinks they were pit bulls-very vicious.  They'd mauled the poor nanny-Frances.  In fact, Father had to pry the jaws of one of the dogs off the poor woman.  Jamison called for the doctor, and then he heard more shouts from the garden.  It wasn't just the children screaming.  It was Father-and that man.  So he went to the door and saw Father and this man shouting at each other.  All of a sudden, Father stopped talking and fell to the ground.  The man turned and walked off into the woods."</div> <div>      Quentin dropped his head into his hands.  "God, my God," he muttered.</div> <div>      Beth was absently patting Nora's shoulders, trying to comfort her.  She looked at her husband.  "You think it's him, don't you?" she asked, frightened.</div> <div>      "Who?"  Nora asked.</div> <div>      "A man named Count Petofi," Quentin answered, his voice barely audible.</div> <div>      "I remember that name," Nora said, puzzled.  "I thought he died."</div> <div>      "He's using another name-Geraldo Bartelli."</div> <div>      "Bartelli?"  Nora frowned, thinking.  "Phillip talked aout someone named Bartelli.  Yes!  He came to the house when I wasn't home just last week.  And he frightened Mary Jane terribly!  I remember now!"</div> <div>      "He saw Mary Jane?"  Quentin asked, alarmed.</div> <div>      "I think so. I think it was the way he looked that frightened her so-yes! It could be him.  Mary Jane said he had a black beard and a black hat.  But why would he do something like this?"</div> <div>      "Because he's evil."  Quentin got up and paced.  "Is anyone with Edward now?"</div> <div>      "No, I was the only one in with him," Nora answered.  "Where did that evil man go?"</div> <div>      Quentin almost answered and then stopped himself. He remembered that Phillips Sr. and Jr. were still in Chicago.  He hoped they weren't in any danger.  "Away from here, we think," he answered evasively.</div> <div>      "I'm tired," Nora complained.</div> <div>      "Why don't you lie down for a little while?" Quentin suggested, indicating the lone couch in the waiting room.  "I'd like to talk to Edward."</div> <div>      "You can't.  Uncle Quentin, Father can't talk.  He knew who I was, but he can't speak intelligibly.  The doctor says it's because of the stroke.  He can't move on one side, either."</div> <div>      Quentin stood in the doorway, staring at Nora.  He couldn't believe what he was hearing.  Beth went to his side.  "Go to your brother.  I'll stay with Nora for a few minutes until she's settled and then I'll join you." She kissed him gently on the cheek.  When he still hesitated, she gave him a little push.  He went into the hall and, still feeling dazed, asked the nurse if he could go and see Edward.  "Not too long," the nurse admonished.</div> <div>      Quentin put his hand on the door and paused.  He was frightened, really frightened.  He couldn't imagine Edward not being able to speak to him.  Slowly, he opened the door and entered hesitantly.  As never before, his brother looked old, fragile, and very vulnerable.  He had been staring straight up at the ceiling.  When he heard the door open, he began to turn his head with great difficulty.  Quentin approached the bed, reaching out for his brother's hand.  "Edward?"  he asked softly.  As Edward turned his head toward him, Quentin saw that his mouth was pulled down at the corner in a grimace.</div> <div>      "Buh, buh…" Edward grunted, trying to raise his right hand.  He recognized his brother and was trying to reach for him.  Quentin caught his hand and helped him raise it to his face. "Ahhh, buh…" Edward said in a choked voice.  His fingers moved across Quentin's face.  He began to cry, and Quentin felt his own eyes fill up with tears.</div> <div>      "Don't, Edward, please don't cry," Quentin said, but it was no use.  His brother seemed to want to tell him something. "Don't try to talk right now," Quentin urged.  "Save your strength."</div> <div>      "Nuh-nuh!"  Edward insisted.  His hand moved from Quentin's face to grab his hand.  With surprising strength, he pulled it to his chest and laid it there, palm side up.  He used his forefinger to awkwardly draw something on Quentin's palm.  Confused and distraught, Quentin didn't realize what his brother was doing at first.  "Buh!" Edward exclaimed irritably.  He moved more slowly, and suddenly Quentin realized what he was doing.</div> <div>      "Q-u-e-n-you're spelling my name!"</div> <div>      Edward looked extremely relieved.  "Yuh, yuh!"</div> <div>      He began drawing letters onto Quentin's hand again.  The letters seemed to run together, and Edward was having difficulty drawing them correctly. Quentin was able to read "danger" and "Bartelli" but little else. "Edward, I'm sorry-you're going too fast."  Edward made an exasperated sound and tried again.  Beth entered the room and watched what they were doing.  "I missed that," Quentin said apologetically. Edward let out a cry of frustration.  He slapped Quentin's hand in fury.  "I'm sorry!"  Quentin cried, pulling his hand back, stung.  Tears spilled out of his eyes-not just from the slap but because his feelings were hurt and he was frustrated, too.</div> <div>      "Let me try," Beth said calmly.  She offered her hand to Edward, who began to draw letters again.  Beth watched and then began speaking, to the astonishment and delight of both men.  "He says the whole family is in danger from Bartelli.  He caused Edward to have the stroke by touching him with his hand.  Before that, though, he demanded that Edward tell him where you were.  He wants his portrait back, and he wants you."</div> <div>      Edward sighed deeply in gratified relief.  "Yuh, yuh!" he exclaimed.  He squeezed Beth's hand gratefully.  He looked at Quentin, who'd been listening with his head bowed.  He began drawing into Beth's hand again.  "He's sorry about hitting yu, Quentin.  He says he loves you.  He wanted you to know about the danger.  He says that Bartelli is going to look for you in Chicago and New York and won't give up until he finds you…" her voice trailed off.</div> <div>      Quentin walked around the other side of the bed and leaned over so that he could hug his brother. Edward let go of Beth's hand and threw it around his brother's neck; the other lay uselessly by his side.  "I love you, too, Edward.  I'm sorry…" Quentin felt Edward's hand push him back.  He straightened up and saw Edward glaring at him and shaking his finger at him.</div> <div>      "Nuh-nuh, buh…"</div> <div>      Quentin looked at Beth helplessly.  She gave her hand to Edward, and he began writing again.  She smiled through her own tears. "'Stop blaming yourself'."  Edward suddenly gave her a puzzled, searching look.  She concentrated as he continued to spell.</div> <div>      "Mr. Collins, no, I'm not a ghost.  I'm alive-really."  She looked confused, watching what he spelled next.  "Quentin, he says when he first came here, he was very upset because-he says Mama was here and Papa, Judith, Edith, and Carl…"  Beth looked at Quentin, bewildered.  "He says he asked them to go away because the family was in danger."  She looked over at her husband again, who was staring at Edward with a terrified expression on his face.</div> <div>      "Edward, don't go," he begged, tearfully.</div> <div>      "'I won't go'," she read.  She looked at Quentin, confused.  "What does this mean?  Go where?  It doesn't make sense!"</div> <div>      "Yes, it does," Quentin answered thickly.  He leaned down over his brother.  "Edward, you've got to hang on."</div> <div>      Edward nodded.  He took his hand and raised it toward Quentin again.  His brother took it and kissed it tenderly.  Then he laid Edward's hand back down on the bed.  "Rest, big brother.  Get some sleep."  Edward nodded and closed his eyes.  "I'll be back, Edward."  Quentin looked at Beth and indicated with his eyes that he wanted to talk to her outside.  They went into the hall.  "Nora's all right?"</div> <div>      "Sleeping. Quentin, what was all that talk about Carl and Judith and the others?  Aren't they all dead?"</div> <div>      "Beth, don't you understand?  They came for him.  He was dying," Quentin said brokenly.     </div> <div>      He saw understanding on her features.  She pulled him to her and embraced him tightly.  "No wonder he thought I was a ghost!  Oh, my poor darling!  You don't want him to die yet, do you?"</div> <div>      "Of course not.  You can understand that, can't you?"</div> <div>      "Yes, of course," she replied, looking at him with deep sympathy.  "Quentin, if what you say is correct, he wouldn't go because he feels we are in danger."  When Quentin nodded, she added gently, "If he is suffering so, what good will it do for him to hang on for the sake of the family?"</div> <div>      Quentin pulled away and covered his ears with his hands, as if he could block out reality that way.  "No!  Don't say that, Beth!  I can't stand it right now!"</div> <div>      She went to him and caressed his face gently.  "Ssh, ssh, it's all right, my poor darling.  Come, we'll go and sit with Edward again for awhile. Would you like that?"  He nodded miserably, wanting to be near his brother until he was out of danger-to snatch him back from Mr. Death if he had to.</div> <div>      Before they could go into the room, the nurse stopped them.  "Mr. Collins is very ill, and you mustn't overtire him.  You can stay for a few minutes more, but then you really have to let him rest. Those are his doctors' orders. You can come back to see him in the morning."  </div> <div>      Quentin gave Beth a stricken look.  "I'll go and wake Nora and see if she wants to see your brother before we go," she said softly.  "Why don't you go in to say goodnight?"  Now he gave her a frightened look.  "Do you want me to come with you?"  He nodded.  "All right, we'll go in together, and then we'll say goodnight and get Nora."</div> <div>      They went back into Edward's room.  Quentin saw that his brother wasn't sleeping; he was moving restlessly on the bed.  That is, one side was moving restlessly.  The other side, where his mouth drooped, was motionless.  He was raising his hand in the air, so Quentin grabbed it.  "Edward? I'm here," he said reassuringly.</div> <div>      "Ahh!" Edward said, drawing Quentin's hand to his chest again.  Quentin began to draw back, but Edward tightened his grip and pulled.  "Buh, buh!"  Panicking, Quentin looked around for Beth and saw that she was crossing the room to stand on the other side of the bed.  She would be able to see what Edward was spelling.  Quentin relaxed, relieved.  At first, he didn't have any difficulty understanding Edward, who spelled more slowly and laboriously.  He seemed to be exhausted but wanted to communicate.  </div> <div>      "Good boy," Quentin read.  "Do you mean me?"</div> <div>      "Mmm," Edward agreed.</div> <div>      "'Watch for Bartelli.'  I will, Edward, I swear."</div> <div>      "'Bishop.'  MY son-in-law?  Does Bartelli know about him, Edward?"  Quentin asked, alarmed.  Edward spelled again. "'Maybe. Watch out.'"  Quentin looked up at Beth, frightened.  He'd begun to think of Bartelli as more than just a poisonous spider.  Bartelli/Petofi now seemed to be like some monstrous Hydra with long, deadly tentacles reaching in all directions.  "Edward, listen, we have a plan to stop Petofi or Bartelli or whatever he calls himself.  Please don't worry about him.  I'll tell care of him, I promise.  He'll pay for this."</div> <div>      Edward grunted, dropping his hand and closing his eyes.</div> <div>      "Beth," Quentin said softly.  "Maybe you'd better get Nora.  He's really tired.  We can call Walsh to come and get her.  Then you and I can go by Fred Bishop's house--the lawyer who married Lenore."  Beth nodded and left the room.</div> <div>      Edward stirred again, restlessly.  He opened his eyes and reached out again.  Quentin took his hand. "'Love you,'" Quentin read, his eyes filling with tears again.  "I love you too, Edward.  Please don't worry about any of this anymore.  I just want you to get better."</div> <div>      Nora and Beth came into the room; he could hear the nurse saying, "There's only supposed to be the two of you, so you have to promise to leave in five minutes."</div> <div>      Edward was spelling again. "'Mama'?  Do you see her?"  Edward nodded, and Quentin became alarmed again. "Does she want you to go with her?  Edward, please!  You have to hang on!"  Nora had begun to cry.  In his agitation, Quentin couldn't make out what Edward was spelling.  "'Rom1217?' Is that a room?"  Edward shook his head and growled.</div> <div>      "It's a reference," Beth put in.  "Romans, Chapter 12, verse 17." Edward sighed, relieved.</div> <div>      Quentin looked at her.  "What does that mean?  I'm supposed to read it?"  He turned back to Edward.  "Edward?  You want me to read it?"</div> <div>      Edward spelled and Beth translated again.  "He says your mother wants you to read it.  He says he's not going anywhere, but your mother wants you both to read it."</div> <div>      Nora went to a drawer and began searching.  "Nora, it's not like we're in a hotel!" Quentin snapped, nervous and exasperated.  He was very surprised to see her pull out a Gideon Bible.  "They even managed to get them in here?"</div> <div>      Nora was searching through the book for the reference.  "'Repay no one evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all.'" She read.  She looked up, confused.</div> <div>      Edward was nodding. "Yuh-yuh," he said.</div> <div>      Quentin turned red with fury.  "What is this nonsense?" he exploded.  </div> <div>      The nurse opened the door and put her head in.  "I'm sorry, you'll have to go now--especially if you're going to shout and upset Mr. Collins like that."</div> <div>      "I'm sorry," Quentin said contritely.  "I didn't mean to--can't we just stay--"</div> <div>      "Absolutely NOT," the nurse insisted.</div> <div>      Quentin seemed about to argue with her, but Edward had begun to reach for him again.  "'Need sleep'," he read.  He looked at Edward, worried. "All right, brother.  Are you sure you'll rest all right?"</div> <div>      Edward tried to smile.  He let go of Quentin's hand and reached up to pat his face.  "Mmmmm," he said.  His hand moved away and seemed to search the air.  Nora immediately came forward to take his hand.  He spelled something into her palm, and she burst into loud tears.  She threw her arms around her father, kissing him on the cheek.  Quentin waited for his turn and leaned down to hug his brother, too.</div> <div>      When they got into the hall again, Beth said, "We'll wait with you until Mr. Walsh comes, Nora."</div> <div>      "Where will you stay?"  Nora wondered.</div> <div>      Beth looked at Quentin questioningly, but he was fuming, furious about the Biblical verse.  What nonsense!  he was thinking.  Of all things!  "Quentin?"  Beth cut into his thoughts, and he glared at her.  "What's the matter?  Where are we going to stay?"</div> <div>      "Why would my mother tell us to read THAT verse," Quentin said furiously, as if he hadn't heard the question.</div> <div>      "Calm down," Beth soothed.  "It must have some meaning to you."</div> <div>      "Of course it does!  But it makes absolutely no sense!  Under the circumstances, it's ridiculous!"  He was becoming angrier.  Beth whispered to Nora, who handed her the Bible and then went to the phone.  Beth took Quentin's arm and led him back into the waiting room.  He began pacing, cursing and twisting the ring furiously.</div> <div>      "Quentin, can I read the whole thing to you?"  Beth asked.</div> <div>      He glared at her, outraged.  "No, thank you!"</div> <div>      "All right.  Maybe later.  Quentin, where will we stay tonight after we see your son-in-law?"</div> <div>      Quentin calmed down a little, distracted by her question.  "Not Collinwood.  Not the Inn, either."  He thought some more and then smiled.  "I know!  It's probably practically inhabitable, but why don't we go to the cottage--you know, where we used to meet?"</div> <div>      Beth smiled.  "All right, that's a good idea."</div> <div>      Nora came into the room.  "Walsh is on his way.  Thank you for waiting with me.  Did you figure out what the verse means?" When Beth shook her head, Nora asked, "Why don't we read it all?  Maybe it explains it somewhere else."  </div> <div>      "Oh, please," Quentin said, disgusted.</div> <div>      Nora took the book and began to read to herself, silently. "The beginning just talks about everyone being a part of God, and everyone having special talents and gifts.  That we should use our gifts, whatever it may be."  She paraphrased, looking up at them.</div> <div>      Quentin rolled his eyes.  "Gifts?  Hah!"</div> <div>      Nora looked at him, annoyed.  "These are the verses around the one Father mentioned: 'Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.  Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; never be conceited."</div> <div>      "Good advice, Nora," Quentin interrupted.</div> <div>      "Quentin!"  Beth said reprovingly, as Nora looked up with a hurt expression on her face.</div> <div>      "It's nonsense, Beth! 'Bless those who persecute you'?  I should get down on my knees and bless Bartelli for what he's done?  He'll want a lot more than a blessing from me if I'm down on my knees in front of him, I assure you!"  Quentin said bitterly.  Beth shot him a warning glance, and he shut his mouth abruptly.  He noticed that Nora was staring at him, confused.</div> <div>      Beth took the book from Nora. "'Repay no evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all.  If possible, far as it depends upon you, live peaceably with all.'"  Quentin began to laugh, bitterly.  Beth went on, "'Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God; for it is written--" at this point, she and Quentin both spoke together. "'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.'"  Quentin made a contemptuous sound.  "Quentin!" Beth insisted.  "Listen.  The last two verses say, "if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals upon his head.' Do not overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.'"</div> <div>      "Yes, ladies, I will go and kill Bartelli with kindness."  He clapped his hands together and roared with laughter.  "He'd enjoy that, I'm sure!"</div> <div>      "What is he talking about?  He's not listening," Nora remarked to Beth, who looked at Quentin with compassion and sorrow.</div> <div>      "No, dear Nora, I am NOT listening.  You have no idea about the scope of Count Bartelli's evil.  And for THAT you should thank God and be grateful!"</div> <div>      "What do you mean?"  Nora demanded.  </div> <div>      Beth patted her hand.  "It's all right, Nora.  He's very upset.  Why don't we go see if Walsh is here?"  She turned her attention to Quentin, who was still pacing around in a fury.  "Quentin, you'll be all right?  I'll be right back."  Quentin paused long enough only to give her a very nasty look before he began pacing again.</div> <div>      As he paced, Quentin realized he was being unfair to both Nora and Beth.  It wasn't their fault, and he shouldn't take his mood out on them. Poor Nora didn't have any idea what Bartelli had done or was capable of, and Beth had been nothing but helpful and supportive to him.  He'd apologize when she came back.  It was just that whole Biblical verse thing was outrageous!  To think Edward would even come up with something like that after all that had happened to them.  He wondered if Edward really believed it or had their mother really appeared and given him that message?</div> <div>      "Quentin--"  Beth said from the doorway, hesitantly.</div> <div>      He stopped pacing and looked at her.  "Beth, I'm sorry," he said.  He went to her and put his arms around her not only because he really was sorry but also because he wanted to be comforted.  Beth seemed to realize it instinctively, for she held him tightly, and murmured to him soothingly.  He wished he could lay down with her somewhere and wished they could just hold each other, hiding until it was all over.  Of course, that couldn't be, so eventually, he moved out of the comfort of her arms and said reluctantly, "We'd better go."</div> <div>      "Where does Lenore and your son-in-law live?" Beth asked.</div> <div>      "It's not that far from here.  I'll show you," he answered, taking her hand.  They walked down the hall and saw the guard, chair tipped back against the wall.  "Do you get relieved during the night?"</div> <div>      "Yes, sir, Mr. Healey.  Someone's coming at 11 and will be here until 7 tomorrow morning.  I'll be back at 3 tomorrow afternoon."</div> <div>      "Thank you."  They went to the stairs, back down the two flights and into the dark kitchen.  "I wonder if they have the door locked?"</div> <div>      "What will you do if it is?"</div> <div>      "Leave it unlocked."  Quentin laughed derisively.  "Imagine someone trying to break into a hospital!"  As it was, the door was not locked, and so they slipped out the back way.  He led her to the Bishops' home, a comfortable house just off the main street in Collinsport.  It was also directly across the street from Mrs. Fillmore's house.</div> <div>      The house was completely dark.  Quentin stared pensively at Mrs. Fillmore's house, also dark, remembering the last time he'd held his baby.  When Lenore survived her illness, Jenny's ghost had convinced him to let her go and leave her with Mrs. Fillmore.  He often wondered if that had been the right thing to do.  "Is Mrs. Fillmore still alive?" Beth wondered.</div> <div>      "Yes, she's gotten frail but then Fred helps her a lot.  Lenore has a child with him, you know.  Margaret Rose."</div> <div>      "After Mrs. Fillmore!"</div> <div>      "Yes," Quentin sighed heavily.  "In my correspondence with Fred, he occasionally talks about his family.  When he wrote about the baby, I asked him to send me a family picture.  I have it in my wallet, taken several years ago. She must be around Mary Jane's or Elizabeth's age now."  He felt Beth put her hand on his arm to comfort him.  It was as if she felt his sadness.  "I guess they're all right, Beth.  They must be all asleep."  As he put his arm around her shoulder to give her a hug of appreciation, he said, "Did I tell you that Jamison named Elizabeth for you?"</div> <div>      "Yes," she said, sounding embarassed.  "I felt very honored.  I wish I could meet her."</div> <div>      "Yes--maybe when this is all over.  I wish Jamison had been there--I think he would've liked to have seen you."  They began walking again.  He remembered the short way back to the cottage, which was really closer to town than it was to Collinwood.  That had been one of its charms for him in the old days--it was very easy to meet women there without anyone at the main house knowing about it.  "I hope it's not too dusty inside," he commented as they walked.</div> <div>      "It doesn't matter," Beth answered.  She was right--it didn't.  He'd be happy sleeping on a floor without a mattress as long as she was there with him.  Of course it wouldn't be comfortable for her...</div> <div>      The cottage door was unlocked.  Their eyes were still accustomed to their dark, so he was able to see that there was still furniture in the room.  That was a hopeful sign.  He felt around for a table and found a lamp on it.  Now--it there was still electricity...The lamp switched on, dimly, but it illuminated the room.</div> <div>      "Oh!" gasped Beth, jumping.</div> <div>      Lolling in a chair facing them, a bearded dishevelled man slumped, his arm dangling, glass in hand.  There was a bottle on the floor next to him. Quentin suddenly realized it was Jamison.  That could be me, Quentin thought, just as shocked as Beth by his appearance.  He crossed over to Jamison and squatted down by the chair.  "Jamison!  Jamison!"  He called softly, patting his nephew on either cheek to rouse him. </div> <div>      "THIS is Jamison?"  Beth asked incredulously.</div> <div>      Quentin sighed.  "This is not one of his better moments, my dear.  Jamison!"</div> <div>      "Uh--uh--whuh?" Jamison mumbled, stirring.</div> <div>      "Wake up, Jamison, we're home!  Jamison!  Time to put the coffee on!"  Quentin said into his ear.</div> <div>      Jamison roused and shoved Quentin backward onto his backside. "Stop!" he growled.</div> <div>      "Are you awake now, Jamison?  I've got company."</div> <div>      Jamison opened his eyes blearily.  "Quentin?"</div> <div>      "Yes, it's me.  What are you doing here?"</div> <div>      "Waiting for you," Jamison said, his speech still very slurred.  "Was hopin you'd show up here."  He tried to focus on Quentin and shook his head.  His hand groped for the bottle.</div> <div>      Quentin snagged it before Jamison could get his fingers on it.  "That's enough now, Jamison," he said gently.</div> <div>      Jamison looked furious.  "You don' say when I've had 'nuff.  Gimme the bottle, Quentin."</div> <div>      "Jamison--" Quentin said warningly.  Jamison stood up, swaying.  Quentin got up, too, backing away with the bottle behind him.  He was shaking it, indicating that Beth should take it.  As Quentin backed away, a furious, determined look crossed his nephew's face.  "Who d'ya think ya are?  I'm no lil kid for you t'boss aroun y'know!"  He staggered forward, and Quentin winced at the sight of the ugly limp.  His nephew's body seemed to twist from side to side as he brought the bad leg forward awkwardly.  "Where you goin, Quentin? C'mere, gimme my bottle back!"  As soon as Beth had gotten the bottle away, Quentin stopped moving.  Jamison was too drunk to do anything, he knew that.  As if to prove it, Jamison swung at him, lost his balance, and fell forward.  Quentin caught him easily under the arms and dragged him to the sofa, plopping him down.</div> <div>      "You're heavy, Jamison," Quentin commented.</div> <div>      Jamison blinked and glared at him.  "Gimme me my bottle, I said!"</div> <div>      "There's no more, Jamison--it's all gone," Quentin lied.  "It's empty!"  He put his hands out to show Jamison.  "See?  All gone."</div> <div>       Jamison blinked, confused.  "It is?  Well, why the hell didn'cha say so?"</div> <div>      "I can see why you didn't come to the hospital," Quentin commented.  "How'd you get here?"</div> <div>      "Wasn s'drunk when I came here," Jamison answered. "Thought you'da been here b'fore now.  How's Father?"</div> <div>      "Not so good, Jamison, but he's strong and tough."</div> <div>      Jamison covered his face with his hands and began to sob.  Quentin squatted awkwardly near him to pat him on the shoulder.  Jamison grabbed him roughly around the neck and cried on his shoulder, his whole body shaking.  From above, Beth reached down to rub Jamison's shoulder.  He started violently, flipping over on his back and looking up.  "My God!" he cried out.  Suddenly, he grabbed his uncle's left hand and stared at the ring incredulously. He looked back at Quentin wildly.  "What the hell have you done now?"</div> <div>      "Thanks a lot!  She's not a ghost, Jamison!"</div> <div>      "But it's Beth!  And Beth--"</div> <div>      "Jamison," Beth said soothingly.  "My name is Kristin Ryan Collins.  I was Beth Chavez, but you're right.  She died in 1897."</div> <div>      "What?"  Jamison shouted.  He shook his head.  "What?  Quentin!"</div> <div>      Beth and Quentin looked at each other.  She was distraught; he was amused and irritated.  "He's too drunk to understand," he decided.  "You hide out in the bedroom. I'll get him settled and then I'll join you."  Beth nodded in agreement and slipped into the back room.  Jamison had fallen back, eyes shut.  "Jamison?"  When he didn't respond, Quentin thought he must've passed out.  He decided it would be better to leave him alone.  He swung Jamison's feet onto the couch and arranged his arms so that he would be more comfortable.  Poor Jamison, he thought with compassion. </div> <div>      There was still a bed in the other room, unmade.  Beth had found a thin blanket to cover the mattress.  When he came in, they both took their outer clothes off and lay down together, facing each other. More than ever, he was grateful for her presence.  He slipped his arms around her and held her tightly.  "Beth, I love you," he whispered into her ear.</div> <div>      She rolled onto her back and pulled his head onto her shoulder, stroking his hair.  "All of this must be so difficult for you," she said.  "I can't even imagine--" she broke off suddenly, feeling his tears on her shoulder.  She continued to stroke him quietly until he had fallen asleep.</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id74.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="18: Together Again"><U>18:  Together Again</U></A>    <A HREF="id76.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="20: Kitcheners Strategy"><U>20:  Kitchener's Strategy</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U>Taking Wooden Nickels</U></A>    <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> </td> </tr></table></body>