Beautiful Conflict

By Zanne Kennedy

The fifth in the Silent Discourse series is, Beautiful Conflict.
Through the beautiful simplicity of Nick’s Amish perceptions of life, he unravels the fabrications of his birth into a family and society he thought was his. He steps courageously into another world, feeling at home not in his stoic Amish life, but astonishingly into Dodson Sinclair’s Northern Ireland troubled connections.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zanne Kennedy
• Release date: Sep 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311583345

Zanne Kennedy

Zanne Kennedy is the author of the Silent Discourse series.Silent Discourse; Still, Small Voice; Profound Silence; Dissonant Melody; Beautiful Conflict. Righteous Revenges (forthcoming)She is an artist by trade and a student of the human condition by desire. Research is her passion and the Amish culture and beliefs is the spark that set the fire a blaze with the series, Silent Discourse. She captivates the reader’s minds, much like a painter wields a brush, and draws them in with her rich descriptions, characterizations, and insights.Zanne is an Arizona native.

Book preview

BEAUTIFUL CONFLICT

by

Zanne Kennedy

Smashwords Edition

~ Paragon Multimedia LLC ~

Published on Smashwords by:

Paragon Multimedia LLC

Chandler, Arizona

paragon-multimedia.com

Beautiful Conflict

(Silent Discourse Series, Book V)

Copyright 2010 by Zanne Kennedy

Paragon Multimedia LLC and the Paragon Multimedia LLC logo

are trademarks belonging to Paragon Multimedia LLC

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher.

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This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

Silent Discourse Series

Silent Discourse

Still, Small Voice

Profound Silence

Dissonant Melody

Beautiful Conflict

Righteous Revenge

In Loving Memory of Roy and Helen Morrow

In Honor of Nick and Jean Kennedy

and Denise DeYoung

Contents

Acknowledgments

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22

Acknowledgments

The author would like to acknowledge the following:

God and His unconditional love. After all, God’s unfailing love is the story I live in!

David Morrow, editing, lawful counsel and constant loving support. Together we may finally discover what ‘glu-glux of the blowhole’ really means.

Brian Morrow, for your great sense of humor, wonderful financial tidbits, and counsel. For your unwavering love, support and prayers. For loving the bird lady in spite of herself.

Erin Dodson, who laughed in all the right places. For reading my books just because I asked while taking care of your husband, two children, and Aunt. For falling in love with Nicolaus and his friends, but mostly, for your constant love, support and prayers.

Joshua Dodson, for sharing your life experiences, advice and support.

Jean Kennedy, for your constant love, support, and prayers. For reading and editing. For staying up all night crying at the sad parts.

Nick Kennedy, for your constant love, support, and prayers.

Pearl G., for loving God with your entire mind, body, soul, and spirit right out loud in front of all of us.

Lori Heyd, for encouraging me to start, and not give up. For your advice & spiritual support.

•

Editor:

Millie Hannum, for your endless hours of hard work.

•

Artists:

Cali McCullough, for going to Lancaster County for a photo shoot ten days before your wedding.

Sue Cullumber, for your great photos and support. Visit auniqueviewphotography.com to see more of Sue’s magic.

•

Advisors and Readers:

Dr. Kathleen Joyce-Grendahl, Vickie Bolton, Jean Kennedy, and Cheri Neri. For all their long hours of help, comments, suggestions and creativity. Thank you!

•

I would also like to thank all the readers who pick up Beautiful Conflict and the Silent Discourse series, those who have fallen in love with Nicolaus, and all who find a deeper relationship with God through Nicolaus’s life story.

Zanne Kennedy, author of:

Silent Discourse; Still, Small Voice; Profound Silence; Dissonant Melody; Beautiful Conflict; and Righteous Revenge (forthcoming).

Chapter 1

April 1981, age 26

Catatonic

The patient’s family, were desperate to hear any news of Nick’s welfare. Nick is in a state of shock. He is not responding to physical stimuli. Said, Doctor Paul Yoder to Nick’s family and friends.

So the lights are on but no one’s home! Tony, Nick’s parole officer, murmured low so that only Lieutenant Joe Roberts could hear.

Absolutely no visitation! Dr. Mark King was Nick’s psychiatrist, assigned to Nick’s case by his P.O., Tony Delgato, and the Pennsylvania Board of Parole. Mark also just happened to be a dear friend of Nick’s, with just a slight conflict of interest. He had come to know Nick two years prior, when Sarah, Nick’s wife, was still alive. Mark had seen Nick through the passing of Sarah, Nick’s first wife, and the tragic death of Israel, Sarah and Nick’s son. Mark was now mustering all his psychiatric skills to neutralize the effects of Nick’s father, Jacob’s last will and testament. The father and son never got along.

Nick is in a catatonic trance. He looks awake, but his mind is in a deep sleep-like mode. He does not move or speak, and your visits with him will be disturbing. Please, everyone—go home and rest. Dr. King stood three-feet tall at the most, a dwarf by a physical description of the man, but his stature of authority was professional, one to be respected. Dr. Paul Yoder nodded his approval to his colleague.

Paul, I have to pray for Nick, Samuel said, stopping Paul at the doorway. Samuel was one of their Amish district ministers, and Nick’s deceased wife’s father.

"I can’t let you see him, Samuel. I do want you to read Jacob’s will, though. You and I know it’s a lie. We’ve let this go on much too long. It’s ruined too many people’s lives: Germain, Jacob, and now Nicolaus. It has to be stopped.

If you won’t, Betsy and I will!" Dr. Yoder said, knowing the truth and now unrestrained to let Samuel know that he did.

So you know! Samuel said as the two strolled to one side away from the others.

I started visiting Germain at Castleburg Penitentiary just before Nick was sent there. The orchestration of Nick being placed at Castleburg and roommates with his own father was Germain’s doings.

Germain never told Nick that he was his real father? asked Samuel, in disbelief.

Germain kept the fact that he was Nick’s real father a secret and took it with him to his death by execution. Nick tried to commit suicide after Joe read Jacob’s last will and testament to the family. Jacob believed all this time that Nick was a product of a rape and said so in the will. No wonder Nick chooses not to come back into reality.

•

Shall we put Nick under arrest now or wait until he’s coherent? Tony asked Lieutenant Joe Roberts with a sidelong smirk.

Arrest him? Joe turned abruptly and glared down at Tony.

Nick broke parole!

How so? Joe shot back.

It’s against the law to try to commit suicide in the State of Pennsylvania. Frankly, I think we should let them all do whatever they can to rid our state of those that want to leave. I mean, we don’t arrest people for moving out of town, so why should we care if they check out for good?

Joe closed his eyes, knowing what Tony was getting at in his distant, sick way. Nick’s going back to Castleburg may not be up for debate, and if that was so, Joe knew Nick was doomed for sure. Turning back to Tony, he reassured him that he would be back later with the paperwork needed for the ugly deed.

•

The hospital receptionist was attempting to be helpful with Miss Sinclair and her agent, Lyn Johnson, but the fake smile on her aged face proved to be more like smoozing the famous singer-songwriter than telling her the truth. At least, that’s how Dodson Sinclair felt.

Frustrating! Dodson said as she turned to Lyn. Both, just touched down hours ago in New York, having completed Dodson and her band’s six-month tour in Europe, before getting back on a private jet for Pittsburgh and then on to St. Ann’s Hospital by way of a dirty, rank taxi. Dodson was exhausted and so was Lyn.

Come, darling. Lyn said reassuringly. I’ll get you in to see Nick. Put your sunglasses on, doll, and don’t say a word, Lyn commanded as they headed toward the nurse in charge.

I’m Dr. Johnson, and this is my colleague, Dr. Brainier. We are to evaluate Mr. Zook today in room 405 and do not want to be disturbed.

Lyn’s so good at this. The nurse is sufficiently bamboozled! Dodson thought, trying to hide the smile that threatened to expose her excitement. Nick had been sentenced for possession and use of illegal narcotics to Castleburg Penitentiary for two years and she was eager to see him again.

Nick, darling. It’s Lyn, sweetheart. They both could see that he was awake but his hopelessly blank gaze was nothing but disturbing.

Nick. It’s Dodson. I’m here for you, I would have come sooner but Lyn and I were… Nick? Dodson turned to Lyn with a questioning glance.

Lyn took Nick’s face and tried to force him to look at her. He did, but his eyes were far beyond hers and it was creepy. There was no blinking or any other indication that there was life of any sort behind his big blue glossy orbs.

He’s dead.

Don’t be absurd, Dodson. He’s not dead, Lyn hissed back. NICK—wake up, damn you, Lyn whispered as loud as she could without flagging the nurses just outside Nick’s room.

Dodson moved in closer and saw the restraints that held Nick’s arms to each side of the bed rails. She looked harder at the white bandages wrapped around his right wrist and a cast-like support wrapped in white gauze around his left. He looked much like the same gorgeous man she let slip from her hands two years prior, except for the muscles that had formed beyond what they once were. She placed her hand below his rib cage on the scar that remained from the horrible buggy accident that took his son, Israel, from him. His tight stomach muscles were expanding with a peaceful tempo of his breathing. He’s alive. She thought to herself.

Nick, I’m here now. I love you, and I will not leave you.

"Okay, don’t panic, darling. I’m sure this Dr. King will get here soon." Lyn placed her raincoat over her arm and started for the door.

You’re not leaving Nick, are you? How can you be so… Dodson knew Lyn loved Nick as much as she, but found her casual regards a little one-sided.

Dear, he’s not going anywhere. Tell you what. I’ll go get us something to eat at the cafeteria. Lord knows we would have a mass media frenzy if you came with me. I’ll be back in a flash… Well! What do we have here? Lyn turned to face Mark’s glaring pose.

I was about to ask the same of you two. Mark’s short, stumpy arms were out to his side, his stubby fists resting on his midsection, which was hidden by his doll-size white lab coat. I will have to ask both of you to leave.

Rubbish. I refuse to leave Nick. And who may you be, sir? Dodson asked.

I am Dr. King. And you two are?

Oh… Well, I’m Nick’s boss, Lyn Johnson. Better known as Lyn Royal, of Royal Recording Studio, and this is none other than Dodson Sinclair, in the flesh. Lyn pointed with a dainty hand to Dodson as if there wasn’t a soul who wouldn’t have flipped over backwards, being so privileged to be in the same room with the famous recording artist.

Amazing! Now leave before I call security, Mark shot back, showing little significance for the famous.

Dr. King, do ya have a first name for yourself? Dodson asked sweetly as she started to walk towards Mark.

I do, now go! Mark pointed to the door with a digit too short to be a finger.

I find this all too amusing, but I really do have to use the potty, Dodson. I’ll be back after I find us a bite to eat, Lyn said as she graced Dodson’s cheek with a kiss and then headed for the door, strutting out as if she owned the place.

"I’m sorry, Dr. King. I haven’t seen Nick in two years. I loved him then as much as I love him now.

Mark squinted his eyes at the familiar, beautiful face, her slight Irish accent delightful to the ears. He then looked at Nick, knowing from their long talks that he also was deeply in love with this woman. Possibly she could help bring him out and back into reality, maybe—even give him a reason to want to go on living. I’ll let you stay as long as you keep out of my way. What do you know of what has happened?

All I know is that Edna called and left a message that Nick was here at St. Ann’s and to come quickly. Dodson wanted to cry but she restrained her tears, knowing her anguished cries would possibly mean a one-way ticket out of Nick’s hospital room.

You can call me Mark. Nick does. I will need to fill you in on a few facts if you truly plan to stay. Mark continued to inform Dodson on every gruesome detail of what had transpired, from Jacob’s horrific declaration, to Nick’s attempted suicide. Nick’s catatonic state was keeping him a safe distance from reality even as they spoke. Lyn returned later with the promised food, making Dodson’s body and mind feel more alive and able to face this tragedy with some courage.

•

Dodson! came a familiar whisper. Dodson’s eyelids slowly opened as she raised her head from the side of Nick’s bed.

Joe? she blinked to focus more clearly.

How long have you been here? Joe asked.

I don’t know. What time is it then? She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and felt as though every bone in her body had been twisted and every muscle had been stretched beyond its limit.

It’s morning, about nine o’clock.

Well now, I’ve been here quite some time then.

Has Nick come to yet? Joe asked, looking down at Nick’s lifeless body and shutting the lids over his glossy eyes, finding Nick’s zombie-like expression somewhat gruesome. Dodson gave him a discouraging nod with her head. Are you here alone? he asked as he took a seat next to Nick’s bed.

Lyn was here earlier but she had to get some sleep. She’ll be back later. Dodson paused then looked more intently into Joe’s eyes. Were you there when it happened?

I was. It was pathetic. The whole thing was so hard to watch. Nick and all his family in one room and me, reading that death sentence from Jacob. I could see the train wreck coming and couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Have you read the letter?

No, but Dr. King said it was very bad, so it was. He said it would break my heart to know what it said.

Jacob basically claimed that Nick was illegitimate and a product of a rape at that.

And Esther? What does Esther say to this? Dodson shrieked a little louder than she intended.

Esther hasn’t denied it. She is keeping closed lipped, which isn’t helping Edna or the rest of the girls cope with all that has happened. Joe shuffled in his chair, feeling a little uncomfortable talking so freely to Miss Dodson Sinclair, one of the most popular rock stars on the face of the planet. You should have seen Nick’s eyes when I read Jacob’s take on how he tried to kill Nick when he was first born. Then, when Nick asked his mother if it was true, she said nothing…absolutely not a word. It all went horrifically down hill after that. Nick left the house, went straight to the barn, destroyed his guitar, and cut his wrists all within fifteen to twenty minutes tops. Profoundly surreal is the only way I can describe it.

Dodson listened intently as Joe described in detail the gruesome scene in the barn and how he tried numerous times to revive Nick before the paramedics arrived, deliberating every word as if he rehearsed each a thousand times. Profoundly surreal, he repeated as he looked away, the tearing in his eyes apparent only then.

Chapter 2

April 1981, age 26

Heaven

As his body passed through a thin film that was like a large piece of plastic wrap, Nicolaus opened his eyes wider. Finding the substance odd but not troubling, he continued on through to the other side. The brightness of it all took some time to get accustomed to. The colors of the trees and foliage were brilliant, perfectly crystal clear. The flowers were fluorescent in color, their petals glimmering flawlessly in the light. Nothing was dead or dying, all was alive and flourishing in the abundance of the radiant light. The smell of each flower and blade of grass was overly embellished onto his heightened senses. "Overload" is a good word for it all, he thought as he bent down to feel the grass. It was like feathers to his fingertips, cool and soft. He smiled and breathed in deeply. Finally I’m home! he thought to himself as he looked around.

Not yet, Blue! The smile on Doc’s face was reassuring and peaceful. Nick turned to gaze upon the man he had come to love dearly. Doc looked back at him, peacefully content, unlike the last time Nick saw him, as Doc was being ushered into the death chamber at Castleburg to be strapped moments later to an electric chair to fry. The voice in his mind sounded good to Nick, for Germain hadn’t yet spoken audibly; however, Nick could hear him clearly.

Doc, Nick said as the two embraced. I missed you so much.

Why, Blue? I’ve been right here by you all this time. Doc said, calling Nick by the name he was given by his fellow inmates in prison.

So are you Saint Doc now or should I call you Saint Germain by your Christian name? Nick asked lightly as he graced Germain with a playful smile.

Call me whatever you wish, Son. Germain took hold of Nick’s shoulder with one strong arm and turned him to walk alongside of him. Nick had allowed Germain to call him son, thinking it was just an endearing name the man he had met in prison had given him. He was unaware of the facts that lie beneath.

When do I get to see God? Nick asked as they walked up a hill of lush, green grass.

He is here, but first… Germain stopped as they crested the top of the hill and Nick looked down at the small gathering in the beautiful meadow below.

Are they dead too? Nick asked innocently. Then something magnificent caught his eye and he was off, like a bolt of lightning, down the hill to the meadow.

Wait up, Nick! Germain called out, noting the growing distance between him and Nick as Nick ran ahead.

Could it be Israel? Nick thought as he excused himself, bumping into a few of those speaking casually to each other as they waited peacefully in clusters. Nick moved desperately among them, trying hard to keep sight of the toddler. Israel, wait, Son. God, where did he go? I’ve lost him, he whispered just as he turned to see Sarah.

There were no words that could have captured the sight of Sarah holding Israel, both with welcoming smiles delicately graced across their lips. Sarah! Nick stepped forward and his son’s hand grazed Nick’s cheek. Sarah started to laugh at the expression on Nick’s face.

You look as if you haven’t seen us in a while. Sarah said with a gentle tilt of her head.

What is this, Mommy? Israel asked as he looked down at his tiny fingers.

Oh, those are tears, dear. Mortals shed them when they are sad. They also weep when they are glad. We don’t see much of that around here, Nicolaus, she said, looking back up at him with a smile, wiping the child’s wet fingertips on her white, flowing dress.

Sarah, it’s been almost four years since I’ve seen you, darling. Where is your prayer cap? Nick asked. He watched in amazement as her long, brown, silky hair danced gracefully in the breeze.

Don’t be silly, Nicolaus. No one needs a prayer cap here. ‘Years,’ I almost forgot what that was. That’s a long time to you, isn’t it?

A lifetime, Sarah. Nick reached out and held what he could catch of Sarah’s hair in his hands, looking down at it and caught up in the breathtaking beauty of it all. Sarah and Israel just smiled patiently, knowing he was new to all this.

So, you thought you would come and see for yourself.

Nick turned as Sylvain clapped Nick hard with an arm around his shoulders. Walk with me. Sylvain said and started to usher Nick away from the gathering.

But Sarah and Israel. Nick turned back, however, they were no longer in view.

Not to worry, old man. You’ll get to see them again soon enough. Your wrists hurt? Sylvain asked with a knowing smile as he looked down at his friend and gave his shoulder a hardy squeeze.

A little, Nick said as he clasped his hands behind his back in order to hide the evidence.

Sylvan began to laugh again and let go of Nick’s shoulder. I was there when you did that to yourself, dipstick. There is nothing to hide here. Nick, you make me laugh.

Where is ‘here?’ I mean, did I make it?

What―heaven? Sylvain asked with a mocking tone to his question. "Let’s just say we are here for you." Sylvain turned and offered his hand in the direction of the crowd who stopped conversing with each other just long enough to look up and grace Nick and Sylvain with gentle smiles.

"All of you are here for me? What does that mean, Sylvain? I don’t know these people."

Each one of these souls was touched by you in one way or another while they were on earth. You helped open their hearts and eyes to God’s love. If it was not by knowing you personally, it was by your songs. These are just a few of them. God isn’t through with you yet, Nicolaus.

Sylvain. Nick looked up in terror. I won’t go back, Sylvain. I don’t belong there. God—what is that? Nick winced in pain from the brilliance of a light that felt like knives penetrating deeply into his eyes. I can’t see, Sylvain. Are you still there? Nick tried to shelter his eyes with his arms but the light was too intense.

"We are all still here, Nicolaus," came the voice that Nick was familiar with as being God. A warm, strong body folded itself around Nick from behind, pulling down his arms just long enough to kiss his cheek. Nick could feel the strength and warmth engulf him, making him feel safe and at peace. I will never leave you or forsake you, my beloved. Now hear what I have to say. the voice whispered.

Nick relaxed his arms from about his eyes and listened with his eyes closed tightly.

"What you will do in the physical world now will be out of love, not out of duty. I will show you things not many have seen, nor care to see. But for their sake you need to know. I have given you a great gift, that being the artistry of song. You are among a few I have granted this gift to. From King David to those who will walk after you, I have granted this gift for one purpose. That purpose is to help those who are willing to believe know how deep my love is. There have been those who desired the gift and those who fooled the masses to believe they had the gift. But you are among those who are truly an artist, gifted by the Great, I AM. You will sing, Nicolaus, from now on with your shoes off." God said this so near that Nick could feel the Almighty’s warm breath brush his cheek, blowing the wild strands of Nick’s hair as He spoke.

Please God, don’t send me back to earth. I want to be with You. I want to stay here with You. Nick was sobbing as he felt God’s hold over him loosen and then release. The brilliance faded so that he could once more open his eyes to look around him. Sarah, Israel. I don’t want to leave you. Please, Doc, I beg you. Sylvain, let me stay.

Nicolaus, it’s not for us to ask such things. Go now, my love. Go and be who you were meant to be. Sarah said as their sweet, curly haired son waved, smiling at his father from the other side of the veil.

God, please, I don’t belong on earth. Please, I want to stay. God, please, I want to stay. Nick’s eyes opened to a blurred image of Dodson. The look on her face was of deep concern.

Mark, he’s coming to. Look, tears!

Nick, can you hear me? Mark asked, coming into Nick’s focus overhead.

No! Nick screamed, sending chills down the two visitors’ arms. Please, God, don’t make me do this. I don’t belong here. Please, God, no. The tears streamed down Nick’s cheeks as he tried to plead with Mark to snuff out his life so he could go back where he belonged, where he felt safe and loved unconditionally. He pulled unsuccessfully at the restraints pinning his injured wrists to the hospital bed rails, with nothing to gain but to injure them even more. Mark, why? Why didn’t you let me die? I don’t want to be here. Mark, please.

How can I help you, Dr. King? the nurse asked as she poked her head through the open door, hearing the screams of despair from the hall.

I’m going to need a sedative, and hurry!

What in God’s green earth is going on in Nick’s room? Lyn asked distraughtly as she made her way back down the hall, being stopped by medical personnel running to his room to try to assist.

It’s Nick. I had to leave his room. It was all too frightening, Lyn. He came to, only to spiral out of control as you can now hear, Dodson said between sobs.

Lyn pulled Dodson protectively close as they both soberly watched the nurses’ rush in and out of Nick’s room in a professionally detached manor. Soon the blood-curdling screams silenced as the chaos finally came to an end. Nick, at last, sheltered once again in another coma-like state.

•

Waking up hours later in a darkened room, lit only by the neon green monitor lights and the constant beeping of the IV meter, Nick tried to move. He felt a heaviness on his right side and then saw Dodson’s head and upper torso draped over his bed. She was sound asleep. Dodson! he whispered, his voice hoarse with dryness.

He repeated her name three times before Dodson sat up in a daze, then looked down at Nick all the more confused. An excited smile flashed from her face, and she reached out to touch Nick’s cheek.

Untie me, Dodson, he whispered, looking deeply into her eyes. Nick’s probing gaze was one of pleading and near desperation.

Dodson looked at the restraints and then back at him with concern. I… Maybe we should wait till the nurse…

Please. Nick whispered.

Dodson untied his right wrist, then went around the bed to untie his left, which Nick had already started on.

What are you doing? Dodson stood before him in amazement as he pushed the proper switches to raise the head of his bed so he could sit up.

Don’t worry, I’m still anchored down. Nick said motioning to the catheter beside his bed. He took Dodson by the back of her head and drew her to his lips without asking. Dodson kissed back deeply and with all her heart.

Why didn’t you return my letters? She hissed when they finally parted.

I never received your letters. Nick pulled her again to his lips as if he were starving for her touch and on a one-track course.

I wrote you every week. Every single week, Nick.

I believe you. I just didn’t get them, I thought you moved on. That you didn’t… care. He pushed the last word out, feeling as if he, of all people, had no right to expect anyone to care. After all, his father was a rapist and his mother a tortured victim. Seed of a demon as Jacob put it. An extremely good depiction of his existence, that was for sure. Nick sat back and released Dodson, sighed, then looked away.

What is it, Nick? She needed to know his every thought. Nick was a strong-willed man and for him to try to end his life was a true dilemma to Dodson.

Please, Dodson, don’t look at me, Nick whispered sadly. I’m not who you think I am, and I can’t bear to know you’re looking at me.

I know exactly who you are and I’ll look if I want. I don’t care a wee bit who your father was, nor what he did. You’re a good man, Nick. Nothing or no one can take that from you.

So, you know. Nick pressed his lips together tightly and looked down at his wrists.

"Joe filled me in on most of it. Nick, your family feels really bad about it for your sake, so it is. They want to see you."

What family? I don’t want to see anyone. Please, Dodson, promise me that… Nick finally looked back into her eyes, only to look away in shame once more. I can’t let any of them look at me. Especially my mother. God, help me, I have been a constant reminder of the horrors she went through. I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t ever let her look at me again.

It’s not your bloody fault, Nick. Your mother loves you very much. Edna loves you too.

I don’t want to see them. I don’t want to drag you through this either.

It’s all a wee too late for all that, now isn’t it? We’ve been through this before, and I would like to think you had enough sense to know I’m not going anywhere. Now sit back and relax. Dr. King should be in soon. Dodson continued angrily. Away off and chase yourself if you think for one moment that I would leave you now. The very man himself sits here and speaks to me in this manner—imagine that. She spoke into the air as if anyone cared, while she strolled casually to the other side of his bed as if defying him to ask her to leave again.

Dodson, why are you so bullheaded, I’m trying to save you from…

"From what? From you? And look who’s calling me bullheaded!"

Look! I’m in no mental condition to argue or feel your scorn right now.

Aye, no doubt. That is the only thing you got right today, so it is. Dodson interrupted while tucking in the blankets about his bed.

Good morning. I was told you decided to join us. I’m Dr. Freeman. Am I interrupting anything? The young doctor smiled kindly at Nick and Dodson and then continued. Well, perhaps I should take a look at your wrists, he said, trying to defuse the awkwardness. He took Nick’s left arm and started unbinding the splint that held his hand straight. The stitches were black that ran along the red line of injured flesh, traveling from the outer part of his wrist to the other side. Dodson turned away. Nick also wanted to turn away but instead looked, as if to punish himself more for what he had done.

Looking good. Can you bring each finger one by one to your palm? Easy. Don’t force it. Good. Now move your thumb.

Nick tried to move it, but there was nothing. He tried once more and felt a ripping pain travel up his arm to the outer area of his elbow. He grabbed it in hopes that the pain would subside.

I was afraid of that, the doctor said as he looked into Nick’s eyes.

Afraid of what, Dr. Freeman? Dodson asked, looking over the doctor’s shoulders to see what they could see.

Without using all the long drawn-out medical terminology, in the process of trying to leave this world, you cut through a muscle that rotates and moves your thumb. I will schedule surgery for tomorrow morning. The doctor turned and started to leave, then stopped and added, Good day to you, Miss Sinclair. He nodded to her then took his leave without a word to Nick. The nurse entered as if by cue with more bandages to secure Nick’s wrist to the splint.

Did you untie the patient? the nurse asked as she worked, her eyes never leaving Nick’s wrist.

I asked her to. Nick offered in Dodson’s defence. When can I have this catheter removed? He wanted to quickly change the subject. "That’s up to Dr. King. I would suggest you leave it to him to start removing things from now on." The nurse gave Dodson a sidelong look in warning as she left the room.

If I wasn’t so distraught that I’m still on this earth, I would have busted up at the way you melted at the nurse’s scolding.

Shut up. I didn’t. Anyway, when Mark comes in, I’m going to give him a wee earful, so I will. That nurse was very unprofessional, Dodson boomed in her own defence.

Right, Nick said cynically as he pulled up his covers and began fiddling around beneath them with his good hand.

Nick, you’re not…

Ach! Ah shit that hurt. Help me to da bathroom. Nick tossed the catheter tubing to one side and brought his legs around to Dodson’s side of the bed as he pulled the IV from his arm as well.

Dodson walked into his arms and stayed that way until Mark came in the room to evaluate his patient’s state.

Chapter 3

May 1981, age 26

As if That Wasn’t Bad Enough

Dodson awoke early to find Nick leaning against the hospital window, his muscular body taut and his arms up as if he were trying to find some way to open the fortified glass to jump.

Come away with you. What do you think you’re doing? she called out while wiggling awkwardly out of the lounge chair, which the staff had graciously placed in Nick’s room at Mark’s request. Mark’s professional judgment and hope was that Nick would recover faster if Dodson were allowed to stay overnight. Nick hadn’t put up a fight either way, but the love for Dodson was apparent in Nick’s eyes, and his recovery seemed to be on track, so Mark allowed her to stay.

I’m looking out the window. What does it look like I’m doing? Nick turned with a comical slant to his smile.

You’re not thinking of jumping, are you then? Dodson asked as she came to his side.

It didn’t cross my mind, but now that you mentioned it… Nick placed his good arm around Dodson’s shoulders and smiled at her. The hurt in his eyes however, told a different story.

Would you? Dodson shot back.

If you’re asking if I would attempt it again… well let’s just say, darling, I’m going to keep my bags packed for now, if you don’t mind. Nothing personal of course. I would like to shower before they come to take me to surgery. I still have dried clumps of blood stuck to my hair. I suppose I was a gruesome sight.

I’ll help you, Dodson said as she followed him into the bathroom, unwilling to speak of his attempted suicide any further. What, Nick? She stopped, as Nick stood in front of the mirror, his head bent and eyes downcast, avoiding looking into it.

This was a bad idea. he whispered softly. I’ve been able to resist looking before now, but I need to see the monster, Dodson.

Dodson waited, knowing it was his reflection that he did not want to see. I see... a kind, good man. A man who would or could never hurt a soul, so ya are. It’s not in you, Nick. Look, it’s yourself in the flesh, not the man who created you. Dodson put her hand gently to his arm for support, her eyes locked on his.

He swallowed hard and slowly looked at the man in the mirror. He stared for a few moments then sighed.

Okay? Dodson asked gently, defying the fast pace of her beating heart as she waited for his response.

It’s funny… Nick paused. All I see is Doc.

Doc? Dodson repeated.

Yeah, a man I met in prison. God help me, why do I see him? Nick asked out loud, but in his heart he felt relief that he saw the man, not the monster that Jacob claimed was his father.

Can I help you with your hospital gown? Dodson asked as she pulled it off his broad, strong shoulders and noted the intricate set of wings tattooed across Nick’s shoulders and down his back. She let his gown drop in amazement of the art. He turned his head to the side to see her reaction and laughed.

You okay, Dodson? he asked as he pulled the bandages from the splint that aided his wrist, standing unashamed and bare butt naked in front of her in the confined quarters of his hospital bathroom.

Dodson swallowed and blinked, then turned and stepped out of the bathroom so he could have some privacy from her gawking eyes that roamed every inch of his excessively worked over body, and his exquisitely elaborate tattoos. The man had changed, and she didn’t want him to think the change frightened her, though, in some way, it did. To let him see her fear or concern would be a great error on her part. Not that she didn’t like the change. On the contrary, she found his transformation extremely stimulating in a sexual way. However, to sit and stare at him, as every fiber of her body wanted to do, was simply reprehensible. It can wait until he is more distracted, she thought to herself with a sly smile.

Nick emerged a few moments later, washed and wearing the small, white hospital towel like a Greek god. They aren’t here yet?

Not yet. Dodson replied, looking at the television as if she was intently interested in the morning show. Nick knew better.

Are you offended? Nick asked as he donned a clean hospital gown.

To what would I be offended about yourself? Dodson replied lamely as she turned to address him.

The man I’ve become, he said, and then looked up to the gurney two nurses pushed into his room, followed by Dr. Freeman and Mark.

Are you ready? Dr. Freeman asked with an encouraging smile.

I suppose. But if I flatline during this, I ask that you leave me be. Do I make myself clear? Nick directed his words to Mark, his faithful psychotherapist, who was, in fact, a three-and-one-half-foot-tall dwarf.

No need to fear that. I’ve done this particular surgery a million times. Never once have I lost a patient during the procedure.

Well just the same. I don’t want to wake up in heaven, then be told I have to go back to earth again. It’s not a nice feeling. Nick then whispered a silent prayer of apology for saying out loud what his heart truly felt, feeling the Lord’s smile in spite of his own irreverence. He climbed onto the gurney and was strapped down to the rails as though he would try somehow to escape.

Sorry. Just a formality, you understand, Mark said as Nick glared down at him. I’ll see you when you return.

I don’t want pain medication afterward. I hope you understand, Nick added, a little more subdued. He did understand the restraints and hoped Mark understood why he asked for no narcotics. Being a reformed heroin addict was the only thing Nick had left to be proud of. To be placed under any narcotics was chancing it and he knew it.

You heard the man. Mark nodded to Dr. Freeman as the nurses accompanied Nick to surgery.

•

Nick, are you in a lot of pain? Dodson whispered as she leaned over his bed. Nick opened his eyes slowly to see her concerned appearance. The artificial green glow of the monitors that surrounded Nick made Dodson appear to be animated. He nodded that there was pain, then closed his eyes tightly in hopes it would lessen the burning in his arm and wrist.

Damn it! he finally whispered, wishing he had never made Mark promise to withhold the narcotics now. It’s going to be a long night, Dodson. Sorry, darling. He managed a weak smile that turned quickly into an excruciating frown.

When morning came, the throbbing was unbearable. Dodson distracted his mind from the pain by making perverse, good-natured comments on what she considered his amazing physical transformation. This was her attempt to keep the air light and playful with her talent of sarcasm. She felt Nick’s protective walls begin to lower, enabling them to speak freely to one another as they once had. Even though his body had changed, he was still Nick, the peaceful Amish man Dodson had fallen in love with, or so she thought.

Oh, if this is not a Hallmark moment! What are you doing here? Tony asked as he and Lieutenant Joe entered the room, finding the two sitting on Nick’s hospital bed. Looks like we have a slumber party. Why weren’t we invited?

Go to hell, Tony. Some P.O. you are. Nick sat back, making sure to create an obvious distance between himself and Dodson, as any good Amish man would normally do. What do you want? he shot back.

Well, Joe and I are here to place you under arrest, Nick. Joe if you’d be so kind. Tony nodded to Nick’s wrist that was already being held up, restrained to his bed rail in hopes he would not move it and the splint that encased it. The familiar clicking sound of the cuffs closing flushed Nick with rage.

What are you doing? he asked as his brother-in-law restrained him to the bed rail.

Sorry, Nick, but you broke parole. Joe looked truly remorseful for what he was doing, an expression Nick had never seen in the man.

You idiot! I’m off parole.

"You weren’t when you attempted suicide, and in the State of Pennsylvania, apparently, it’s against the law to attempt!"

Tony, Nick whispered as Dodson stood, her hands in fists at her sides.

Don’t Tony me. I told you that you were bound to spiral. Your type always burns up before they’re off parole.

Damn it, Delgato! Can’t you be a little more… Joe said, turning to Tony with contempt.

A little more what? Kind? Hell no. ‘Kind’ got Nick into this. Nick knows he should have used a gun. Cutting your wrists just made a mess, didn’t it, Nick?

What is going on? boomed Mark in an authoritative tone. Remove the cuff, Joe. Nick’s not going anywhere, as you well know, Mark said as he climbed up on the footstool he used to check on his patient.

"He is under arrest, and we will be transporting him back to Castleburg Friday, May 1st, for his hearing. It’s scheduled for two o’clock. This Friday!" Tony reiterated.

Dodson, Nick called out as he watched her leave his side in a quick pace.

I’m calling Luke. He’ll get you out of this.

Oh God, help me, this isn’t happening. Nick buried his head into his free arm, his other still restrained by Joe’s cuff.

"Take the cuff off, and both of you need to leave. Nick is still under doctor’s care and is not being moved anywhere until Dr. Freeman