The King of Maine

By Lucia Bartlett

Maine, like much of the United States, is in the midst of an opioid crisis. It arrives in northern Maine around the same time as the MacPhees, and is verging on disaster by their second year of residence.

After a brush with oxycodone, forty-two-year-old Nigel MacPhee, a married father of four, sets off on a path to remake himself, opening gallery and antique store in Foster Lake and using his God-given talents for mental healing on others, including his mother, Meg. Like her dad, thirteen-year-old Ada only wants to help. She’s involved with the therapeutic riding program created by their neighbors, Dan and Anne Stevens, while her siblings—Bette, Jeff, and Henry—are having their own adventures in the otherwise dull northern Maine countryside. Then there are unforeseen consequences when Nigel’s gallery business picks up and he sells a puzzle box to his old friend Henry Hobbs, who fled heavily taxed Maine for tax-free New Hampshire. It seems there are men spying on the MacPhees—and Nigel may have gotten involved in something way out of his depth.

In this novel, a family transplanted to northern Maine in the midst of the opioid crisis begins to settle in, only to find themselves encountering unexpected danger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Jul 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781480865365

Lucia Bartlett

Lucia Bartlett believes Northern Maine is a place of healing and peace, little settlements carved out of endless forest are her greatest love. She spends happy hours working in the woods with her family. She’s also believes in the power of plants, that stars have answers and life is spirit. People struggle with humanity and purpose and Lucia’s no exception. Her greatest wish is to give others a break, so they might live in her books for awhile. Some may say Lucia’s a satirist. She takes it well. The Vampire Squid is her 3rd novel in a sequence following The King of Maine and The Donkey Club. The Donkey Club is for all ages. Add a year for The King of Maine and four years later the characters reappear in The Vampire Squid The Vampire Squid is contemporary fiction, ‘Papercuts’ is the future; 2030 and ‘The Community’ is the past.

Book preview

THE KING OF

MAINE

LUCIA BARTLETT

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Copyright © 2019 Lucia Bartlett.

Art Credit: Lucia Bartlett

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.archwaypublishing.com

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-6537-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-6536-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018908308

Archway Publishing rev. date:  10/29/2019

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My sons for their continuing tech support

Be careful what you’re good at

FOREWORD

The King of Maine is contemporary fiction concerning mental healing, addiction, the opioid crisis and money. A full length novel, it was invented to address problems of our time.

Most of the drama takes place in a fictitious timber town representing a real area in the far northern regions of Piscataquis County, Maine, US. Aside from seasonal tourism most wage earners work in the woods industry; harvesting & refining product in local mills and related services. True to the age of social media, their remote location doesn’t protect from current issues or the addictive power of opioids.

Although the 2 primary families; the MacPhee’s and Stevens’ volunteer many hours to therapeutic riding, spending time together at the donkey rescue barn, they’re not in league with each other or law enforcement until the opioid epidemic. Here along with Henry & Jane Hobbs, Stan & Granny they fight, while the police find the old creed of protect and serve nearly impossible…

The Donkey Club, a previous work, takes the same characters up to a certain point that lies between the early pages of this book.

CONTENTS

1     Consequences

2     Nigel’s old Friend

3     Family outing

4     Nigel & Leah

5     Olivia

6     Nigel Breaks a Toe

7     Jack & Jill

8     Summer fun

9     Town Meeting

10   Nigel’s camp

11   Stan

12   A Real Mood Lift’a

13   Undercover

14   Birds in the Hood

15   Family Happiness

16   The puzzle box

17   Tom

18   The Blue Door

19   Puzzle Box Issue

20   Beauty Above All

21   Fairy Tale

22   Game On

23   SANDY’S

24   The Old Mill

25   Epitaph & Eulogy

26   Henry in the Game

27   Back to School

28   Burnt Coffee & Spilt Milk

29   The 4th Man

30   Operation Furniture Lord

31   The Lane School

32   The Long Night

33   The Next Day

Epilogue

About the Author

1

CONSEQUENCES

BETTE

C hild and donkey were stuck underground. Help! Help! It’s me Bette MacPhee! Look in here! The squirrel mansion tree, there’s a hole… we fell in…HELP! The 8 year old yelled for hours, drifting in and out of sleep, lying on top of Jenny, the young donkey fell in first. Jenny broke her fall and the animal’s sturdy legs withstood 2 Ft. of frigid ground water, 14 Ft. down, 1000 years deep. They’re never going to find me. Will they know it’s me when they discover our bones? Or will they make 1 animal and say its something else and we end up in a museum. Embarrassing . Bones seemed the ultimate nudity and the imagined exposure somewhat worse than her predicament. She pondered the concept in absolute blackness, the walls were amazingly dense & air a relatively warm + 42 degrees.

Bette had no idea of the search effort, down at the bottom of what she thought was a well, I fell in a well and no one is looking for me. Her cries went unanswered while above ground State and local police searched the 2 residences on Marie’s Lane, the time consuming out-buildings & barn where they pushed against the warm bodies of sleeping donkeys, wandered amongst stacked hay, peaked in grain barrels & rummaged around the tack room, desperately calling her name before heading outdoors.

Searchlights proved ineffective, bobbing over a white surface that might of swallowed a hundred children & donkeys; whistling, yelling and listening, goggles icing over in the burning cold they persevered inside snow banks, down the Lane, boots squeaking advanced the idea of a lost cause.

Extra help arrived in pick-ups and sedans even though coordinators inside the state police mobile crime unit made up their minds; kidnapping. The barn, a gathering place for unknowns, the donkey was small, may have been taken too.

Carrying snowshoes and poles they waited behind the big white state police mobile crime unit anticipating a long night. But a large official blocked the doorway and called it off. The expected meeting around a table of maps didn’t happen. It was 10:30pm., 4&1/2 hours since Bette went missing, negative 35 degrees Fahrenheit…moonless, void of life when the men were told to go home.

Stay tuned, we’ll let you know if something comes up, you may well get a call back, he was silhouetted for a moment then gone, the door shut.

Goggles reflecting starlight, the nameless men that make life work, trudged back to their vehicles, willing to do whatever it took, even if it meant suiting up multiple times. Engines still warm from the short stay, they left escorted by a pea green aurora that splashed across the sky bleeding over stars like a celestial cloaking device. Ha Ha you’ll never find her now!

State police were already thinking adult male suspect and regarded volunteer search and rescue as destroyers of vital evidence… a lot of untested local men hampering, not helping, wandering in the dark, getting themselves lost, in conditions so dire, verging on minus 40 … well below the cut off point, it might become a rescue mission for rescuers.

Extraneous assets gone, the men inside the van reassessed and were dismayed by the lack of evidence… Had they concentrated on the area around barn and mansion when they first arrived on the scene, like farm-owners Dan and Anne Stevens suggested, they might of heard her cries, but hierarchy, protocol and time, (9:00pm arrival), intervened. The consensus was; kidnapped or deceased and Dan Stevens was the prime person-of-interest, held in his kitchen by the menacing Sergeant Cyr until Cyr was needed in the mobile unit and the Rookie took over.

Before dialing 911 Dan did his own search for the missing child, called the MacPhees, felt their anguish, had no priors or any reason for suspicion except he was good-looking & intelligent …must be hiding something.

A couple Volunteers didn’t go straight home but scouted around hoping to find direction. In awareness decreasing gear they sensed her presence but the barns many visitors made the terrain hard, icy wandering paths of hoof and footprints appeared intermittently in piles of drifted snow. Without dogs sniffing the air and pulling in lively animal spirits, trails led nowhere.

Optimism returned for remaining Unit Captains, they exited the state police van and headed up Marie’s Lane for a late night planning session at the MacPhees. In ‘moon suits’ they moved in isolation, inner sight woken up by the transcendent, albeit remote, mission of finding a lost child …and the prospect of gaining access to a rich man’s house.

With a mile of hill to climb…. up near the ‘head waters’ of the Piscataquis River, the road rose and circled. Unearthly air came into their lungs, search-lights panning, whistles shrilled and paused …. below the curve, brighter than stars on the black rim of the southern horizon glittering satellites relayed the news from Piscataquis County but mans devises didn’t help, cold nailed uncovered skin with the message; a child found now is a dead child.

Having the use of the MacPhees stately log home, with its cathedral ceilings, enormous glassed in fire, sprightly although slightly daft hostess, Leah serving up coffee and cookies while Nigel, the sadly depressed and distraught Father of the missing child, reminded them of their mission as did her beautiful sister Ada. They reflected on the fact that wealth was no insurance against ruinous consequences…

The remainder of Foster Lake’s 4,900 souls, 3,900, households, adjoining towns and elsewhere the overly connected public stayed home and tried to sleep. Children in bed, innocent of events while parents awaited daylight, the suns bright glimmer of hope, coffee and morning online or… stayed up by police scanners & Foster Lake’s PD’s FB page, like social media had answers while the search yielded none.

I’m in a well, I’m not well…in I fell. Bette hummed music. It smelled like dirt, not good or bad just dirt. The rocks had a different smell, like a struck match. She picked a small one from the wall and put it in her pocket. The space was tight and Jenny stood with her forehead pressed against their prison. We’re really trapped, The little Donkey heard Bette’s voice and knew she wasn’t alone but with her own human … fondness overcame exhaustion, endurance was in her, legs cut and numb in frigid ground water.

The angle steep, Bette shifted position hoping to see the night sky but a bend hid it. In dim morning light donkey ears appeared and she rubbed them, don’t be sad Jenny, they’ll find us, I think. ……my bones aren’t liking this! Overnight exhalations and body heat melted the sides to slippery mud, she felt the wall but couldn’t get a handle or toe in … afraid of trying and falling back down. I know, what if I fell, that would be bad, instead she scratched Jenny’s head. The little donkey closed her eyes and shook just like she always did, we’re going to be OK, I think. In 1/2 darkness, without reference to anything, she tried yelling, Help! Find me! But her voice was weak and the fractured wrist made throbbing requests for silence.

She woke with a start, a man’s voice calling her…she yelled back and he said; Don’t worry Bette, we’ll get’cha outta there.

She answered further inquiries repeated to keep her talking. No I don’t feel bad…. I’m in the 3rd grade… No, but my arm really kills…. I’m not cold … hungry … thirsty … I don’t remember…. I live here in Maine … We just fell in… the small voice came out of the dark.

Jenny tried to make a ‘he-haw’ but it came out 1 loud heee, above ground they heard and cheered.

We’re found, Bette whispered as if a normal voice might make it untrue. It’s better than being lost, uncertain of what would come next.

She didn’t have to wait long, 2 men descended one after the other, unreal … claustrophobic, as she was used to the limited space, now she had feet dangling, then bodies, faces, smelling of cold, when she was warm.

She’s Injured worse than me, Bette explained before they asked. They were aliens; head lamps blinded, they could see her perfectly but she couldn’t see them. A hand reached out from behind the glare, grabbed her arm. I fell in last night and nobody came. Instead of answering they felt her limbs and talked to each other in low tones like she couldn’t hear or comprehend.

It hurt when he touched her arm, wrist fracture, they confirmed, produced a splint.

Jenny’s hurt, she’s bleeding…I’m not cut, she responded when they saw her wince.

You’re doing good, his voice tinged with amazement. She was given water, secured in a harness and the heart-break of leaving her donkey evaporated when he wrapped his arms around her and signaled.

Held tight she was restored from the long night alone, then guilt pangs set in; Don’t worry Jenny, we won’t leave you, … the little donkey looked silently up. She’s really glad you came; she’s not very old and had me on top of her. …I peed on her back and she didn’t mind.

You’re really brave, a real trooper. Don’t drink too fast, little sips. Her good arm clung to the rescuer, while her splinted wrist glinted; ‘special girl…’’

The higher they rose the colder it got ‘til breaths turned to ice under gray afternoon sky. As soon as her head crowned the surface cheers erupted, cells held high … she searched the bundled crowd, hoping to see her family. But her older sister Ada, Dad, Mom and 2 younger brothers weren’t there. Disappointment didn’t last, she was saved and Mr. Stevens gave a thumbs up.

Technical rescue completed, detached from the harness, she waved at people she couldn’t recognize, loaded in the ambulance, whisked away, only catching a glimpse of the assemblages of news reporters in fur, state police in black overcoats and the Red Cross packing up and leaving.

She watched the crowd from the ambulances frosted windows, I like you but…I’m not really home, Dad moved to get away. While still in the hole she dreamt she was on warm green grass, playing with their little dog. Their house, her real home was behind her and Granny was visiting… I want to be buried in Massachusetts. She thought of her own mortality. What if I die in here? The thought of never seeing her old home again filled her with dread… I’d be buried alive in Maine…in winter!

Later she found out it wasn’t a well but a year old excavation, hand dug by her Dad’s friend and wife; Jane & Henry Hobbs … October before last, under cover of darkness …a 14 ft. excavation, obsessed with buried treasure having found a map. She didn’t think they were bad people, imagined finding her own treasure map and her Dad liked them so they must be nice and they did try and fix the hole, or at least hide evidence with oak pallets, 2/4s, cardboard, dirt and leaves…

Jolting down Marie’s Lane and whooshing over snow covered roads, the ambulance carried its important cargo; driver warning of bumps. Still in reflective clothing the EMTs checked her over…their communication devices, carefully stashed medical equipment, physical awareness inside the ambulance, affected her so much she wanted to stay with them but it was over when they arrived without sirens at the Emergency Room door.

Serene and dream-like, veils of snow blew off the river and over plowed banks. Flashing yellow & red the ambulance arrived to the amazement of those expecting a frozen body, but there she was, wheeled into Foster Lake Regional Hospital; mild dehydration cured by water, rosy cheeks, curly hair and watchful demeanor.

Subjected to probing looks for lasting psychological terror, diagnosis of PSTD, she stared back, however it was an adjustment, from silent cold black underground to bright hospital corroders and emergency room space. Each face demanded attention until the thrill was gone and she became an ordinary child with a broken wrist. However, the interrogation persisted, curtain pulled back and a new adult appeared. How far did you fall? Why didn’t you see the hole? Clean and smart they asked forgetting that outside the hospital, in the real world, almost 2/3rds of the ‘day’ was still pitch-black.

The whole country knows what happened, 6 year old Jeff, his head just above the level of the bed defended his sister even though she was 2 years older.

Only one family member at a time, was the response and to Bette’s relief Nigel, her 42 year old Dad and 12 year old sister stayed, while Jeff, 5 year old Henry and her 34 year old Mom, Leah disappeared into a swirl of bright clanging noises. Nurses began undressing Bette so Nigel exited outside the curtain; the girls watched his shadow pace and think. To Bette’s embarrassment and unhappiness after outer clothing was removed, they brought out blunt scissors to cut off her favorite flannel shirt and long underwear top.

Stuffed inside a plastic bag, the cut clothing, along with the still intact wet muddy outerwear was handed to Ada who passed it to Nigel behind the curtain and his shadow walked away.

Nigel found his wife and sons in the waiting room where they were featured on the wall TV. Dad look that’s Bette! Replayed at the 1/2 hour, Bette sat on the gurney surrounded by Medevac and medical staff, pushed through the ER’s double doors, leaving news crews behind.

And there she goes, little 8 year old Bette MacPhee miraculously found this afternoon in remarkably good shape having endured nearly 24 hours underground.

The pretty newscaster appeared flummoxed without the expected gory images of a pixilated frozen corpse or the last charming photos of a tragically kidnapped child. […The yet to be identified body of a juvenile along with the frozen remains of a young donkey were found this afternoon…] The heart-rending looks she had saved up and practiced were of no use to her now, she toyed with her microphone and backtracked, read details off a scrunched up paper… the story began last night with the sudden disappearance … and ends here at Foster Lake Regional Hospital… the camera panned the frigid outside showing only miserable looking news people, faces obscured by steaming breaths, everyone else had gone home.

The hospital was a-twitter with the stereo effect of living the news while Nigel sought escape. Celebrity, particularly the unearned variety enmeshed with the perception of oddity; i.e. why were THEY in Foster Lake… had Nigel deciding not to return to the treatment cubicle but check out the hospital’s cafeteria. Consciousness pinged by unwanted smiles, he responded with thin ones of his own. The news played on… We’re expecting a live update with in the hour. Good luck with that!

Dad! How come Bette’s on the news and not us? Henry wanted to know.

You weren’t missing.

Dad, Dad that man is looking at me!

Get used to it. Jeff and Henry put on ‘get used to it’ faces, copying their Dad’s 1/2 acknowledgements while naturally shy Leah smiled glassily. Attitudes changed when they left the waiting room. They expect us to sit endlessly on the edge of our seats! Obviously she’s going to be ok. She’s like a healthy dose of sunshine… unless blinded by preconceptions that run rampant in here…, trained to look for problems. Hey see here no pathology… Nigel, countered guilt producing vibes.. Hospitals are a waiting game, unless the patient needs reviving, life and limb …that sort of thing, when they can’t afford the clock running out…in all other circumstances its…drip, drip, drip until the bucket’s i.e. stomach’s empty. Nigel was ready for dinner, they’d missed lunch. The nurse said ‘1 family member.’ That’s Ada. Ada can hold down the fort.

Nigel handed the bag of Bette’s cloths to Leah and Leah waited until her family was safely down the corridor before gleefully dumping it in the trash.

Everything was rationalized in Nigel’s mind, he along with the rest of his family saw their residual hopes and fears from Bette’s disappearance slide out of their heads at the prospect of eating out. The cafeteria’s high windows and walls kept the news crews way out there in the cold. What a big deal it was! But without reporters making them out as different, border-line eccentric they reverted back to a kind of typical-ness. From Massachusetts but normal. Their moods did a 180. It’s Maine! Vacationland!

They were all insanely hungry and energetically slid trays, collected napkins, silverware and scrutinized the steamed fare while looking around in wonderment at the huge room. Entire population of Foster Lake could fit in here with room to spare for pets. It was the perfect backdrop for rejoicing … The institution of healing; sterile, efficient, controlled, struck the right balance needed after 24 hours of chaos. Bette was muddy, lost and cold and but for the donkey; all alone. She simply waited to be found, right under their noses, yards away. She was alive and fine, as soon as they saw her anxiety was shed like unwanted clothing and they reverted back to normal; greedy for food, ready to play. We bucked the system, escaped the chains of sensible suburbia, survived and thrived. Well survived anyway.

Why does everything have to smell like mashed potato? The lack of choices; easily tolerated; the drab colors in glinting metal dishes; at least warm, everyone decided on something, fat ladies in aprons ladling it out, reminiscent of Nigel’s school days.

They grouped at a table behind a pillar worthy of holding 5 subsequent floors. The nearby window provided the family with a dinner time view. Dusk was falling, trees along the river cast shadows across the parking lot. News people traveled in black miniature, hefting cargo from vehicle to hospital and back again. Good exercise, Nigel remarked.

A single male nurse holding court at a table full of females showed off impressive pouring skills. The liquid traveled sidewise from glass to glass, under arm and back again. He didn’t spill a drop and their full mouths exploded in feminine laughter. The boys elbowed each other hoping for disaster.

Medicine was his second choice, Nigel, cheered by the performance, energetically polished off 1 hot roll with butter and almost went for another.

Bartending school, said Leah. The boys giggled and abruptly stopped at the subtle change in atmosphere as their table became a subject of interest; … whispers, elbowing and glances slanted in their direction. They fell silent, adjusting to the unwanted celebrity.

Do we have to go to school? The boys, thoroughly clued in by the cafeteria, sought opportunity.

You’re going to school, Nigel squelched the idea.

Monday, Leah reinforced.

But can we skip church? The boys calculated they’d get at least 1 free day out of the deal. MacPhee escapism ran in their veins besides they liked the hospital, protected from the outside world everything they needed was there; food, bathrooms plus it was interesting, kind of like a school for big people. Their imaginations formed holograms.

Nigel paused, a fork full of cold turkey reluctantly put down, We might’ve to. He didn’t acknowledge the look of delight spread over everyone else’s face. Nigel was the one who dutifully dragged his family to church. It was his chief source of positive social interaction plus Sunday school added needed reinforcement to his parenting… and in the blood, his old Anglican roots. He knew hymns by heart and the readings were a well spring of his own memories, flowed out in generational verse, the beautiful all knowing poems.

Their table was silent for awhile, The rice salad is good, Leah quietly finished her meal.

Oh is that what it was.

A thought poked out from under Nigel’s wet blanket. Let’s go exploring after lunch, Henry whispered in his older brother, Jeff’s ear.

No you won’t. Nature had blessed Nigel with extra acute hearing and a strong grip. Both came into use.

But Dad, we only meant to see if there was a play area.

Really.

The boys were certain there was no way to get out of their Dad’s grasp but they knew he might be persuaded to join them. Yes really Dad, its great here! There might be a view from the top floor. Don’t you want to see mountains?

No. They had finished their meals, dumped trays and were being led inexorably back to the waiting room, tables covered in magazines and no toys.

But the elevator is right there,… They tried having distinct memories of other lifts, floors silently compressed, until the full magic of modern engineering took them to the top of the Pru, (pet name for Prudential Center) …the city skyline displayed in cold brown silhouette, sparkling harbor beyond.

Mom, you want to see it. Don’t you? Jeff grabbed her hand and pulled it.

See what.

Boston.

Boston, Nigel repeated, reminded of the past, sought to flee the memory, found a newspaper and settled into read.

Don’t be ridiculous, this is a hospital in the middle of Maine, Leah dropped his hand and sat with a magazine while the boys in one deep frown and chair waited with crossed arms.

WHAT ABOUT JENNY? Bette was anxious to know, Is Jenny going to be alright?

She’s at the vets, Ada wasn’t sure about the little donkey. She followed in the Rover with the rest her family while Jenny was still in the hole. Jenny’s going to be fine, she’s not really hurt. Ada tried to sound reassuring, hoping to calm Bette’s mind even though she hadn’t a clue.

The assessment went on, white coats blocking their mental exchange. Ada’s thoughts whirled anxiously until she saw Bette’s rosy face and solid presence, then she knew it was only time and attention before anxiety over the rescue was behind them. Last night when Bette was still missing, something took over her mind, interrupted a dream sequence like a storm alert in the middle of a movie… a deep voice said; Bette’s OK, she’s with Jenny, Ada woke with a start and ran down stairs to inform her parents and the policemen but they didn’t believe her. But it was from a primary source connected to the highest authority! Canceled misinformation! She wanted to say but realized it was pointless. They’d never believe her, their minds were made up.

What happened? Ada waited and finally found a moment when all white coats were gone. Bette, in underpants and sheets, cotton blanket pulled up to her chin, bed adjusted to sitting position, leaned in close to her sister. Compared to Ada’s lily white, Bette was golden like their Mother, turning brown summers.

They found me.

I mean before that.

I was looking for Jenny and fell in. Bette had longed to see Ada but now didn’t feel like talking.

You must have been really scared.

I didn’t know anyone knew I was lost and if they didn’t know…no one would be looking for me… and how’d they know where to look.

There were all these cops in the living room looking at maps… they thought you were kidnapped…or Mr. Stevens…Ada paused rubbing her hands over the cotton blanket, They were talking about search units and sections…a couple of them spent the night….They were still up, I watched from the balcony. Everyone was frantic, in Belmont, hundreds of messages, but I couldn’t even look, left them unopened, a cop dressed in black, State cop told me not to."

Then they came upstairs and took my computer out in the hall, set up a table, they had a command post …downstairs then they said it probably wasn’t a kidnapping, … you know how no one goes anywhere up here after dark? They said all cars going in were accounted for and no cars going out … they checked street cams … there’s only one route but like 3 cams, that’s how they knew you were still ‘in the vicinity’. Then they started talking about you…like you wandered off, got confused … fell and hit your head …they don’t know you can leap … twirl around, land on your feet! If anyone in the family was going to fall it would be me….and then the next morning, today, this morning…Todd, You know Todd…when it was 12 noon …I was downstairs, looking out the window and I saw him fall through the ice! Can you believe, they were out on the ice? Even we know better than that! Dad saw them go out on the river but said nothing…he was busy with the State Trooper. … The Trooper fell down the steps and landed in the path. He was the most hurt and Dad took care of him… I didn’t know who fell through the ice…they brought him up…and it was Todd. An ambulance came and took the Trooper away, it was really crazy around the house… You wouldn’t believe all the people…. Ada paused absorbing calmness from Bette, heads together, glad to be away from adults, in a space surrounded by curtains, bright appliances winking at them.

The EMTs took Todd’s cloths and put him in the bathtub, the one downstairs next to the guestroom. He stayed in there for about an hour until the other EMT checked him out, said that he was only superficially not deeply hypothermic and was ‘good to go’, Ada clasped her hands together and looked up at the memory. Bette stared straight ahead. You were really lost in that hole and they were clueless but Todd left, he was wearing Dad’s cloths, he was so cute in Dad’s favorite blue V-neck sweater, …Todd was shy, wouldn’t stay for coffee, we thought he really needed it but he wanted to go because… he knew…no one else did but he had clues where to find you. Her words spilled out happily.

He wasn’t there with the rescuers… The scene of coming to the surface replayed; snow-boots, coats, bundled faces holding cells, …Todd wasn’t in it.

He was talking to the detective when we drove by, we followed the ambulance

Bette was silent…I was stuck in the hole when all these interesting, important things were happening! She’d gotten the raw end of the deal, even though all events centered on finding her, she was a non participant…all fun had by others. Everything was about Ada and Dad, with Mom egging the situation along …they were together, she was alone.

Ada sensed Bette’s gloom, left out feelings; You were stuck in a hole and completely clueless! She teased…then suddenly hugged Bette, kissed her while Bette remained passive, Oh Bette I don’t know what I’d do with out you! I so wanted you there … felt you were there standing behind me when I was online, before the cop wouldn’t let me … it went viral, the whole US was watching. It was so big and they didn’t know how we felt. It was kind of awful …I was alone, it was pitch black outside and we knew in real space you were out there somewhere in the cold, the men were all sad faces, even Dad…they all thought you were slowly freezing to death, and couldn’t do anything about it … but then I felt you were with me, looking over my shoulder and when I was sleeping a voice told me you were ‘with Jenny & OK. Bette remained unconvinced. Oh Bette! we wouldn’t be a family with out you! I’d be completely lost…it was so terrible, so awful if you froze to death, no one in the family is holy like you…you’re like an angel. Ada bit her lip, tears fell, she hugged Bette sobbing.

Bette, accustomed to the theatrics, knew Ada was only partly putting on…but there she was used as a backdrop for Ada to play the part of the most sensitive, feeling girl on the planet.

Ada pulled away, her large green eyes spilling over, she gazed into Bette’s face and felt untold sorrow at the imagined life she’d have without her curly headed sibling. Bette blinked when Ada’s tears fell on her face, eyes, hair, then Ada’s elbow accidentally grazed her broken wrist. She winced but didn’t call out, It didn’t hurt, really, she smiled at her sister, patting her hair while Ada continued to sob.

Ada collected herself, found tissue, went to the sink, splashed cold water on her face, returned smiling, breathing in short gasps, Tell me what happened…

Someone said my name…

Who?

I didn’t see who, just a voice calling Bette! Bette! I yelled back and he said not to worry they’ll get me,

That was Todd yelling your name, Ada was right and Bette felt again she got the short end of the stick, Ada had the news, all the information. Come on Bette, the ever sensitive Ada responded to the frown, Tell me what happened.

I saw lights and rocks.

Rocks?

Small rocks, fell on us.

The curtain pulled back and 2 nurses helped Bette into a hospital Johnny and placed her broken wrist on a pillow. Ada held Bette’s good hand, her face reddened, she bit her lip and tears spilled again at the sight of the sturdy girls chest, Bette was strong, perfectly formed…Oh I’m so happy to see you…the day went on and on… the cops and all their questions…it was so abnormal! She whispered, held back tears, They wouldn’t let us leave…we were stuck in the house… Out of the corner of her eye Ada saw a nurse sneak by and inject a line into Bette’s arm. Moments later Bette started to nod off, eyes went dull… face lost color.

What was that? Ada’s tone loud, shocked by the change.

Morphine.

"Morphine?

Standard for pain before X-ray.

MORPHINE TOOK AWAY PAIN, took away her ability to remember, her ESP with Ada and her longings for the sight of the barn and all the donkeys. It took away worries about Jenny and sadness of being forgotten. Good feelings of how Jenny stood in water and kept her dry disappeared along with pride at not succumbing. (She’d fallen into the unknown and survived, it was better than dance class, dance class just put me through exercises.)

Morphine made nothing matter or stand out in any important way and stayed with her while the cast was done. A most real situation turned unreal; the enormous novocain injections, wrist reduction, white coats and their questions fit into a flat picture book that didn’t hurt and she didn’t respond just turned the page, closed cover and tossed it aside.

Bette was admitted for overnight observation and given a room in the extraordinarily clean children’s ward where sadness could never be washed off. Her family found