In Death He Lives Page 4

  Ellissa tried to calm things down, only to receive a verbal thrashing from her husband, in front of their son. Harrold made it clear that he was in charge not Ellissa and that she had better learn her place.

  From that day forward, mother and son had an unspoken bond. They learned how to hide from Harrold when he was in his usual arrogant and sour mood. Ellissa also learned how far she could push her husband. While he was usually impossible to control, her directness frequently made him step back. Harrold learned that his wife could be just as controlling with her love and affection, something he needed in their relationship.

  When Reade was old enough, and with Ellissa’s prompting, Harrold agreed to enroll their son in a private boarding school. What Harrold didn’t know was mother and son discussed the idea and researched schools prior to Ellissa suggesting it to Harrold.

  At first, he wondered if he could manage a life without his mother nearby, but soon realized most students, who attended the prestigious private school, were in the same situation as he. They needed an escape from a dominating parent or parents, thus private school was perfect for them. From the first day on campus, Reade felt that he had arrived.

  Reade loved school. He made the learning experience into a personal challenge, not due to his father’s requirements, but his own. He wanted a life outside of his father’s world and knew that grades meant everything.

  He also loved sports. Though not beefy enough for football, he made both the intramural soccer and baseball teams. He excelled in both endeavors. Harrold, much to both Ellissa’s and Reade’s disbelief approved of his role on the field. His only comment was, “Just make sure you maintain perfect grades. If one grade slips, you will be off the field.” His threats were unnecessary. Reade grew into his own person away from his father's constant harassment.

  The one thing Harrold made very clear was that Reade would be part of Calan Industries. He was heir to the firm and was expected to learn everything about it from the ground up. Each summer from his fifteenth birthday on, Reade worked at Calan Industries. Harrold established a program similar to what an intern might expect, but Reade’s program started in the shop, not the office.

  Reade learned manufacturing from the ground up. He swept floors, lugged scraps to the recycling bins, cleaned machines, and worked in the warehouse. He was even loaned out to companies that Calan Industries managed. Harrold expected Reade to learn and understand why Calan Industries was number one in providing the world with products the consumer had to have.

  At first Reade felt used and abused by his father’s “Intern Program” but soon found he enjoyed the process. He learned the business, met people who became real friends, and was away from his father.

  Once in college, Reade’s internship took on a different prospective. Reade was assigned to the senior vice president of marketing as an assistant and shadow. He was told repeatedly to listen and learn.

  Studying political science and communications in college was Reade’s idea. He and Ellissa convinced Harrold that it was in Calan Industries’ best interest. Harrold agreed and continued to pay for Reade’s Ivy League education.

  Calan Industries needed political favors, commercial dominance, and favorable financial agreements to maintain its lead in the industry. As Reade’s experience grew he witnessed Harrold and others in the company as they wined and dined CEOs, governors and other politicians, as well as the management of companies Calan wanted in their fold. To them, it was like a game of chess – they always stayed five moves ahead of their opponent.

  Lying in the hospital bed, Reade began to think of his father as one of those opponents. He could continue to give in to his father’s outrageous demands, thus losing everything he desired in life. On the other hand, he could find a way around Harrold’s distorted sense of reality. If he came out as gay, not only would Harrold prevent him from seeing Alex, he would prevent him from having any life at all. Harrold would make sure his son was not a fag, no matter what it took from his son’s life.

  He wanted freedom from Harrold, wanted to love Alex, and wanted to be his own person. Now he just needed a plan that would give him all that he desired.

  *****

  With the trooper’s help, the hospital social services person made contact with Alex’s mother. Gena Newfeld arrived the following day to find her son lying in a coma on the critical list. Next to her son’s bed sat a young man tenderly holding Alex’s hand.

  “Are you Reade?” she whispered as she entered the room.

  Startled by the voice, Jason looked up to see an older woman dressed, as he was, in a full paper gown, facemask, and protective gloves. “No, I’m not Reade,” he said as he followed the woman’s eyes to his hands. Suddenly very self conscious, he released Alex and stood up.

  Turning toward the woman, “Umm, I’m Jason Heppman the paramedic that helped Alex at the scene of the accident,” extending his gloved hand to the woman now standing next to the bed.

  Taking Jason’s hand Gena said, “I’m Gena Newfeld, Alex’s mother. I came as quickly as I could.”

  Jason moved so Gena could sit next to her son and slid the second chair as close to the other side of the bed as possible. Gena looked down at her son — breathing tube in his mouth, probes connected to various parts of his body, heart monitor beeping with every beat of his heart, IVs dripping fluids into the veins in his hands.

  The surgeons at first, were going to wait to set Alex’s broken arms and legs, but decided the severity of the breaks warranted the trauma of the procedures. Rather than cast his arms, they were encased in plastic splints to restrict movement. Both legs had compound fractures requiring extensive repairs. Each leg was in an open air splint that restricted movement while allowing access to the wounds. The sheet covered only the middle of Alex’s body since both legs lay on a specially designed tray for support.

  His skin was mottled in shades of blue, green and brown from the impacts it received as he rolled down the embankment. She shuddered at the sight of her son’s battered body.

  “I should be going. My shift starts in a couple of hours,” said Jason as he watched Gena assess her son.

  “Tell me what happened. All I know is he was in a car accident while driving home from some company event with Reade.”

  He knew nothing about this woman or her son. Does she accept that he is gay? Is he gay? Does she even know? Yes, Alex and Reade share an apartment but that’s all anyone was willing to say.

  Jason could see the hurt in her eyes. I wonder if Alex has her blue eyes. “From what I’ve been told, he and Reade were driving home from a company event. For some reason Reade’s car crossed the line into oncoming traffic. The driver of the car he almost hit said Reade overcompensated as he tried to avoid the collision, swerved off the road, and rolled down an embankment.”

  Gena’s hands moved to her face as she released a startled cry. “They said he was thrown from the car, but Reade was not. How could that happen?”

  “I’ve been wondering about that myself. I’ve seen quite a few car accidents as a paramedic. Usually belted victims remain in the car. I have no idea if he was belted in or not. We found him at the bottom of the ravine.”

  “What about Reade? Is he badly hurt, too?”

  “He suffered several broken bones and a concussion, but nothing life threatening.” Jason’s anxiety showed in his voice and movements. He clearly didn’t know how to handle himself in this situation.

  “When I walked in, you were holding my son’s hand. I could see the look on your face. It was a look of concern for a loved one.”

  “I really have to get going Mrs. Newfeld. The nurses tell me that people in a coma can hear us, so talk to Alex and let him know his mother is here.” Jason walked out of the room, removed his protective coverings and left the ICU without another word.

  Chapter 7

  Terry returned to Lane’s room to see him staring at the ceiling. No tears flowed, but his face showed the look of a person in deep thought. As he approached the
bed, Lane whispered, “The doctor just left. He said I was doing much better than he expected. Tell me, please, what did they expect?”

  The question startled Terry. He stopped walking to his partner and looked down at his hands. Terry wondered how much he should tell Lane. The doctors said he had very little chance of regaining consciousness. If he did, they said his brain was so severely damaged that he’d probably be a vegetable. They told Terry to be prepared for the worst and if he or Lane believed, last rights should be administered.

  “They said you would either die from the trauma or be a vegetable for the rest of your life.”

  “Well, I guess they were wrong, because I’m certainly not dead. But a person with no memory might as well be a vegetable,” answered Lane as he continued to stare at the ceiling.

  “No, you’re not a vegetable. Look at you! You’re alive and talking. Yes, you have some memory loss, but we can work on that. It will come back Lane. Please…” responded Terry as he approached the bed and pulled Lane’s hand to his face. “We’ll get through this, I promise you!”

  Lane slowly turned to face the man holding his hand and said, “You told me we were more than friends. We met at one of my conferences. You said I was remarkable in what I did.” He stopped talking, turned his head and just stared at the heart monitor.

  “Yes, we met at a conference. Yes, you were remarkable. And you will be again. You have to believe me Lane. We’ll get through this.”

  “How will I be remarkable again, when I don’t even know who I am?” shouted Lane as he pulled his hand from Terry. “You have no idea so how can you say that?”

  At that moment, the door opened as Hallie walked in. Hearing Lane’s outburst brought a smile to her face. “I’m glad to see you are feeling better,” she said as she made her way to his side through the maze of wires and tubes. The look on both Terry’s and Lane’s faces showed total disbelief.

  “Mom, how can you be smiling right now while Lane is so upset?”

  “Lane, look at me,” said Hallie as she put her hand on his arm. “You’ve been through a lot, I admit. And yes, you have memory loss, but your brain is still working. You can’t imagine how happy that makes Terry and me.”

  Lane started to say something but Hallie cut him off. “You are a miracle Lane. The fact that you are awake and talking is a miracle. I just spoke with the same doctor who examined you. He said to give it a few days and see what happens.”

  “I have an idea,” said Terry smiling at the man he loved. “I’m going home to get your laptop and some of your research papers. Reading them might trigger something up there,” he said pointing to Lanes head. “At least you’ll have something to do besides listening to mom and me telling you that you’ll get better.”

  Terry left before getting a response from Lane. On his way out the door, he heard Hallie say, “Well I guess you’re stuck with me for a while.” Then he heard his mother’s famous laugh. She had a signature laugh that everyone recognized as Hallie’s.

  *****

  Terry walked down the corridor from where Lane was speaking. His mind is amazing. I can’t wait until dinner. Back in his room, Terry checked his voice mail messages, did a quick scan of his personal and business email accounts, then changed into his bathing suit and walked to the indoor pool. As he passed the lobby, he heard a commotion so he stopped to see what was happening.

  In the middle of the lobby stood the woman who allowed Terry to sneak into Lane’s conference. She had her hands raised to stop everyone from asking questions at the same time. “The press conference is scheduled for tomorrow at ten sharp. No, you cannot go into any of Dr. Duwalt’s conferences. Those are reserved for research scientists.”

  “We’re researchers too, so why are you forbidding us from attending Dr. Duwalt’s conferences?” said a reporter, with his recorder raised to capture the response. The other reporters laughed at his humorous attempt to get passed the gatekeeper.

  “That’s a good one. I’ll pass it along to Dr. Duwalt. Now please respect the hotel’s rules against congregating in the lobby. Come back tomorrow.” With that, she turned and walked away from the shouting reporters, in Terry’s direction.

  As she walked toward Terry he asked, “Wow, does that happen everywhere Lane, I mean Dr. Duwalt holds conferences?”

  At first, she didn’t recognize the man in his bathing suit. Terry stood five foot eleven inches tall. He had always treated his body as a temple, thus he is rock solid with an eight-pack stomach. Most people get lost is his perfect body, but to him it's something that he has always maintained.

  His brown eyes match his hair, which usually looks as if he needs a trim. No matter how much he tried to keep his hair in style that was not going to happen. Rather than getting upset, he decided to let it do whatever it wanted to do. The messy look made him even more appealing to both men and women.

  She gave him the admiring look he was so accustomed to receiving, then smiling she said, “Looks like you are enjoying the day. I wish I could go for a swim right about now.” As they walked away from the reporters, she said, “Dr. Duwalt’s research is front page news. I told you earlier that he is constantly bombarded with requests to talk, and to share his research. The man is brilliant and they,” she said pointing to the throng of hungry reporters, “won’t leave him alone.”

  “They follow him around?” asked Terry.

  “You should only know,” she replied. “I could write a book filled with the tricks they’ve used to try to get to him. They never leave him alone. I have to get back to the conference. It’s nice chatting with you, Mr.?”

  “Oh, I’m Terry Wattenberg. Lane, ah Dr. Duwalt and I ran into each other yesterday and again this morning.”

  “Oh, you’re the one? Lane told me how embarrassed he was that he actually ran into you. I can just see it happening, too.” She said laughing. “He gets into his head and forgets to come out. Sometimes we have to remind him to eat.”

  She stopped as she turned to walk away. “He told me you asked him out for dinner. Please tell me you are not a reporter trying to get a scoop. That would be too much.”

  Terry put his hand on his chest and made the symbol of crossing his heart. “No, I’m not a reporter. I just wanted to know more about the guy who just about bowled me over yesterday, that’s all. Well, maybe I do have an ulterior motive,” he replied.

  “Really and what might that be Mr. Wattenberg?” she asked with both hands on her hips.

  Now feeling very self-conscious, he said, “I like him and want to get to know him. Please tell me if I’m barking up the wrong tree and I’ll leave him alone.”

  “You’d be barking up the right tree Mr. Wattenberg,” she said as she started to walk away. Then turning around she said, “You hurt him and you’ll regret you ever met me. Understand?” She didn’t wait for a reply.

  I certainly do.

  Terry enjoyed the pool and spa for a few hours. He thought about Lane, and the mystery lady who appeared to be more than just his protector. He repeatedly played the memories of Lane on stage and the press trying to crash his conference in his mind. This man is someone special, yet seems so innocent at the same time. How do I get to know him without scaring him away?

  Rather than venture out of the hotel and chance a confrontation with the press, Terry consulted the hotel’s concierge for ideas. He mentioned the press, Lane’s fear of public situations due to his position, and asked for some help with dinner plans. He also downplayed room service since he didn’t want to appear too forward on their first date.

  What resulted was a balance of elegance and simplicity. Terry sat in a plush chair in the lobby watching the activity of business people and vacationers as they made their way to dinners, scheduled events, and other activities they had panned. He smiled inwardly knowing he was one of them, just passing through on his way to the next meeting or business lunch. I wonder what they are thinking of me as I sit here watching them?

  Right on time, Lane exited the elevator a
nd scanned the lobby. His smile excited Terry when their eyes met. He is either happy to see me or happy that the press has gone. Either way, I like it! Lane made his way to where Terry was sitting, keeping an eye open for land mines and other hazards. One mishap on this trip was more than enough.

  “Right on time,” said Terry as he stood with his hand out.

  Lane shook Terry’s hand and smiled. “I try to be punctual, but sometimes things get in the way, as you are fully aware.” They held hands a bit longer than would happen in a friendly shake, but neither seemed to want to break free. “So where are we going for dinner?”

  “I thought we’d go to a nice restaurant nearby, but after I witnessed the chaos of the press, this morning, I had second thoughts. That woman bodyguard of yours made it clear, to me, that your public loves you and might want a piece of your body if we went out there tonight,” he said waving to the street in front of the hotel.

  “She can be quite protective. Sherry and I go back a bit.” Lane’s smile deepened as he talked about Sherry. Then he giggled and said, “She had quite the crush on me when we first met. I had to break her heart and let her know I played on a different team.”

  “You just came out and told her, what did she do?”

  “At first she thought I was just using the line to push her away, but she soon realized that I was telling the truth. Since then she’s been like my sister, protector and the best-damned personal assistant anyone can hope for. I’m not sure I can live without her.”

  “She seemed more like a bulldog, to me,” said Terry as he stood next to Lane. That brought laughter from both men.

  “So if we are not going out there for dinner, what did you have in mind?” asked Lane. “I could eat a cow tonight. Sherry tried to get me to eat lunch but I didn’t have time. The last time I ate was at breakfast with you.”

  Just then, a member of the hotel’s staff approached the two men. “Mr. Wattenberg, Dr. Duwalt, if you will follow me, please.” Lane’s eyebrows rose as he looked from the young man back to Terry.