Taji's Syndrome (46 page)

“In fact, proposing to me is selfish of you,” she expanded on his words.

“Damn right.”

“And you want to marry me because then you can handle working on this epidemic.” She shook her head.

“And the other epidemics we don’t know anything about,” he appended. “And all the rest of it. If I have to go through the rest of my life knowing that I botched it with you . . . Sylvia, I didn’t propose out of convenience. It isn’t convenient being in love with a woman who lives across the country from where I work. I didn’t propose out of lust. If that were all I felt, or you felt, we’d both know it. I didn’t propose out of pity. I don’t pity you at all, though I am deeply saddened to know how difficult your life has been at times. I didn’t even propose out of loneliness. That’s the worst possible reason to propose, though because I love you I’d be very lonely without you; the thing is, Sylvia, the love comes first, not the loneliness; that’s the difference.” He put his left hand over her right one for a moment. “I’ve said my peace. If you can’t say yes, even though you want to—”

“How can you be sure of that?” This time she did not sound as angry or as confident as before.

“Because I’m not deaf, dumb and blind; and I’m not stupid.” He laughed. “If you’re so worried, we’ll take a year to live together, to work it out. Hell, we’ll take two years or five or however many you want.”

“Are you patronizing me?” she asked uncertainly.

He laughed out loud. “God
damn,
you are the most suspicious woman!”

She tried to find an indignant accusation, but started giggling instead. “You bastard,” she laughed.

“Does that mean you will?”

“It means I’ll think about it,” she said, smiling and beginning to lose the tension that had gripped her all evening.

“While we live together,” he added.

“All right, all right, all right, while we live together.” Although she could not bring herself to say it, she suddenly felt idiotically happy.

—Alexandra Porter—

One of the older geldings was down with pidgeon fever, and Alexa was with the vet when the phone rang.

“Do you mind if I get that?” she asked as the ringing continued. “Elvira usually refuses to answer it.”

“Sure,” said the vet as she examined the swelling that stretched from the base of his neck to between his front legs. “This poor fella isn’t going anywhere.”

“I appreciate it,” said Alexa, and hurried out of the stable toward the house at a fast jog.

“Porter Ranch,” she answered, a little out of breath.

“Collect call from Harold,” announced the synthesized voice. “Will you accept charges.”

Alexa swallowed hard. “Yes. Yes, operator. I’ll accept the—”

“Thank you; go ahead please,” said the voice.

“Mom?” he said tentatively.

“Harold? Honey? God, it’s good to hear your voice.” She could feel tears on her face. “Where are you, Harold?”

“Near Penticton. That’s in Canada.” His voice was lower than she remembered it from six months ago and he spoke hesitantly.

“I know where Penticton is,” she said. “How are you, Harold?”

“I’m okay. I guess. Yeah.”

“Harold, what is it?” She tried to remain calm, but dread was poking its hot fingers on her spine. “Harold?”

“It’s Dad.” His voice broke and he started to sob. “He just collapsed. Just like that.”

“Harold,” she said, trying to calm him. “Harold, tell me where he is now.”

“They took him to the hospital, about an hour ago.”

“Which hospital?” Alexa asked, trying to keep her wits about her.

“I don’t know. The big one near the old Peach Festival grounds. I didn’t get the name. Mom, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Harold. I’ll tend to that later.” She wanted to reassure him. “I’ll call Penticton later and take care of everything.”

The boy was sobbing and he could not put words together. “Oh, Mom . . . he’s . . . he’s . . .”

“I know what he is,” said Alexa with feeling. “I’ll make sure he’s taken care of. Don’t you worry about that. What about you? Where are you staying right now?”

“Dad’s got a job here, with a man who runs an auction house.” He said it in a rush. “Livestock auctions.”

“And where are you staying?” Alexa persisted, not wanting to upset her son any more than he already was.

He was not able to answer for a few seconds. “We were staying at a motel until two nights ago.” His breathing grew less rapid. “Dad got into a fight and the manager wanted us to leave.”

It took all her self-discipline for Alexa not to come back with a sharp summary of her opinion of Frank Porter. That would accomplish nothing; Harold was upset as it was. To have his mother attacking his father in the hospital, no matter what their past relationship had been, would serve no purpose. “Harold, listen to me. I have to know where you are, where to find you.” She was already thinking about the telephone calls she had had from Jeff Taji, offering his assistance with Harold if she should ever need it.

“We were . . . there’s a kind of apartment in back of Dad’s boss’ garage. We went there last night. I guess he’ll let me stay there a couple of days, until I know how things are with Dad. If not . . .”

“I’m going to catch a plane to Penticton”—or wherever the nearest airport was, she added to herself—“as soon as I can drive into Denver. I’ll be there before tomorrow afternoon. You tell Frank’s boss that your mother is coming, that I live in Colorado and that I’ll take full responsibility for you. I don’t want to have to work things out with a juvenile court, especially not in Canada.”

“Dad’s awful sick, Mom. The nurse told me that they think it might be that TS.” He faltered. “Mom, is it TS?”

“There’s a lot of it around,” she answered evasively.

“I heard that there was a thing on the news about kids who carry TS.” This time he paused nervously. “Dad got it into his head that I gave it to him, because I’ve been around kids who had it and I’m okay.” Once again he was silent. “Mom, he’s wrong, isn’t he? It’s because he’s feeling sick that he says that, right?”

“We’ll find out as soon as I get you home,” she said. “I haven’t any idea why some people get TS and some don’t, and neither does anyone else,” she added belligerently, though she knew it was not so.

“There’s a treatment for it now, anyway.” Harold was begging for reassurance, wanting his mother to exonerate him of his father’s illness.

“Now you listen to me, Harold. Your father could pick up TS or any number of diseases, the way he lives. Why, it’s amazing he hasn’t come down with something long before now. He’s been a lot luckier than he deserves. And if he tries to make you take the blame for what’s wrong with him, you just ignore him, you got that? Frank is a jealous, spiteful man who’d do almost anything to get his way.” All her resolutions about what she said about her former husband were forgotten. “I won’t let him do anything more to you, Harold, that’s a promise. He took you from me, but I’m taking you back. You hold on, son. I’ll be there just as soon as I can arrange for a plane. You tell me where I’ll find you and I’ll be there.”

Harold caught his breath. “Probably the hospital. You can find out its name.”

“If it’s on the old Peach Festival site, it shouldn’t be too hard to find.” She wanted to find the words to reassure Harold. “I love you, honey. I’ve missed you so much, and I can’t wait to see you again. I . . . I bet you’ve changed.”

He cracked a single laugh. “I’m a little taller—”

“A little?”

“Well, I’m about five-ten now. I got a bit of a beard, too. You probably won’t like the clothes I wear or my haircut.” He was doing what he could to apologize for what his father had done.

“It won’t matter diddly to me, Harold. Getting to see you again is what matters.” She was finding it hard to keep her voice even. “Now, I got two other calls to make, to arrange for things from this end, and then I’ll be on my way to Denver. I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon at the latest. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay, Mom. Thanks.” That hint of embarrassment again colored his speech. “Thanks a lot.”

“Any time,” she said, and hung up while she could control her voice. She stood in the kitchen wiping her face, then she yelled for Elvira. “I want coffee, I want a suitcase packed for a couple days in Canada. I want a strong brandy right now.”

Elvira appeared in the kitchen door.

“El hijo?”

“Si. Now get on it.
Pronto, todo pronto.”

“Coffee, brandy, packing,” she said in very good English.

“Por gran favor,”
said Alexa, and picked up the phone to dial a familiar number in Golden. She waited with impatience while she explained her business to a receptionist and a secretary, and then she reached Fenton Weeks, who had been her attorney since the whole miserable business with Frank began.

“Alexa, this is an unexpected pleasure,” said Fenton Weeks when he came on the line at last.

“You, too,” said Alexa, minimizing the formalities. “I just had a call from Harold—”

“Not again,” said Fenton softly. “He’s in Penticton—”

“Where’s that?” Fenton asked.

“Canada, either Alberta or British Columbia. He told me that Frank’s in the hospital, pretty sick. I’m going to fly out as soon as I can get a plane, and I want to be sure there’s no red tape waiting for me. You got that?” She had been speaking so quickly that she was suddenly out of breath. “Tony? You got that?”

“I don’t know if I can do it . . .” he attempted to qualify his position.

“You do it, Tony Weeks, or you’ll regret it, I promise you that. I want full court records sent up to Penticton so there’s no question of who has the right to the boy. If I know Frank, he’ll spin a story that’ll tie things up for days if we don’t nip it in the bud.” She looked up; Elvira was handing her a cup of coffee. She mouthed “thanks” and listened to Fenton sputter.

“I’ll do what I can, Alexa, but I can’t make any promises. We have several questions of legal jurisdictions here and the law of the United States is not the law of Canada. It’s a tall order and—”

“Then you’ll want to get on it right away.”

“I have other cases,” he protested.

“When I first came to you, you didn’t. You hadn’t had a client in a month and you were willing to do almost anything. I took half my savings to give you a decent retainer and I’ve paid you that much every year since, plus your billings. Or had that slipped your mind?” She drank some of the strong, hot coffee, letting the roof of her mouth scald from it.

“I’ll get on it in an hour. An hour, Alexa. I’ve got clients waiting in the outer office.” He paused. “But it’ll get done and I’ll stay on it.”

“I’m counting on it,” she said. “I’ll give you a call from Canada when I know what the story is on Frank.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting.” He cleared his throat. “Alexa, good luck. I mean that.”

“Thanks,” she said, and hung up. “Elvira, make sure you get a second bag. If I know Frank, Harold won’t have any luggage of his own.”

“Ya lo creo,”
she agreed in her worldweary manner.

“And get me a thousand dollars from the office.” She knew that she would need some cash and was afraid that if she left it behind that it would increase her difficulties.

“You do not need so much,” said Elvira as she brought a snifter to Alexa.

“Get it.” She was checking through the business cards she carried and at last found Jeff Taji’s. “I got one more call to make. Then I want the car ready.”

“I will tell Emilio.” Elvira left Alexa alone for her call.

“This is Alexa Porter in Golden, Colorado,” she said to the woman who answered Jeff Taji’s phone. “I have to talk to Doctor Taji at once.”

“Please hold on while I locate him,” said the woman. Immediately the phone began to play a mushy version of
Uptown Nights.

Alexa had taken three sips of brandy and finished the coffee when Jeff came on the line. “This is Doctor Taji, Missus Porter. What can I do for you?”

“My son just called from Canada. He’s in trouble. I’m about to leave to do what I can to help him out. I thought you’d like to know.”

“Yes, I most certainly do,” said Jeff. “Where in Canada?”

“Penticton,” she said. “I’m heading for the airport.”

“What about the boy? Is he all right?” Jeff said, doing his best to instill calm in Alexa.

“No, he’s not all right. Frank’s sick and in the hospital and my boy’s on his own.” She heard how shrill her voice was and apologized at once. “Sorry, Doctor. I’m pretty wired right now. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“You didn’t yell.” Jeff gave them both a couple of seconds to change gears and said, “I can arrange to have someone to help you in Penticton, if you require it.”

“I don’t think I will. I have my lawyer on it. But if it looks like there’s going to be red tape to cut, I’ll call you. I can do that, can’t I?”

“Yes, of course,” said Jeff. “I’m going to be traveling myself during the next few days, but my office can always find me in thirty minutes or less.” On impulse, he offered, “Would you like to be able to reach the Divisional Coordinator? I can give you her name and number. You remember Susannah Ling, don’t you? Do you have her card?”

“I . . . don’t remember,” said Alexa, her thoughts elsewhere.

“Well, write it down and I’ll warn her that she may be hearing from you. She’s my superior and she can cut red tape faster than I can. In fact, she’s the one I go to when I need red tape cut.” He listened to the sound of Alexa’s voice, trying to determine how prepared the woman was.

“The lady who was with you is the boss,” she repeated, not quite believing it. “Give me the number, Doctor Taji.” She read it back as Jeff recited it. “Okay.”

“You call her if you need her,” Jeff told her firmly. He added, after a brief hesitation, “If you can get to Salt Lake City, we can arrange a charter plane to get you to Penticton.”

Alexa was startled. “A charter plane?”

“Yes. We have two of the NCDC planes there right now. I can authorize the use of one. Would that help you?” He did not want to push her, but he was concerned for her and the boy.

“Sure.” She had the last of her brandy and decided that she would have to have a bite to eat before she got on the road. “I know it isn’t right to say yes to the offer. I do know that, Doctor Taji, but I’m—”