The Newman Resident (20 page)

“They were called kennels. And my dad wouldn’t even put our dog in one.”

CHAPTER
FORTY-SIX

T
wo days after the TempCare fiasco, the morning was sunny. Summer had come, but the slight, cool breeze reminded Richard of spring. He, Christopher, and Carol sat at an outside table at a coffee shop on Broadway. He made sure their son sat closest to the wall, away from the sidewalk, and kept searching the area, watching for anyone suspicious. Except for the visit to TempCare, it was the first time Christopher had been out of the apartment for days.

The server brought their coffees and a cinnamon roll with milk for Christopher, then left.

“I know TempCare was a mistake,” Carol said. “Again, I’m sorry about that. But now we’re talking about just one evening. He’ll be fine.”

“I just can’t get the train station out of my mind,” Richard said, shaking his head. “I ought to call David and cancel.”

“No!” Christopher said. “It’ll be fun to have Uncle David take care of me, Daddy. And we’ll stay in the apartment the whole time. We won’t leave even if the place catches on fire.”

Richard gave his son a look, and Christopher winked at him.

“David was coming anyway for a couple of days. And it’s supposed to be a wonderful play,” Carol said, “and Hunter went to a lot of trouble to get the tickets for us.
The Egyptians
is the most popular play on Broadway.”

“We should’ve talked about it—”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Carol said, touching Richard’s hand. “It’s the first time we’ve done something together for a long time.”

He knew she was right. He’d been ignoring her. But, still, he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving his son even for just one evening, even with his brother.

Christopher reached over and touched Richard’s other hand, smiling. “You can do this, Daddy. It’ll just take a little bit of courage.”

Richard laughed, then nodded. “Okay, you two win.”

CHAPTER
FORTY-SEVEN

T
he lobby of the Imperial Theatre was massive, and elegant. The owners had bucked the trend of other theaters on Broadway to modernize with giant screens and irrepressible sound systems that pierced through you. This place was a throwback to an earlier, more relaxed time. Of course, Richard liked it. He sat in a chair in the lobby, waiting for his wife to come back from the restroom. It was intermission and the lobby was crowded.

Carol came up to him, but didn’t sit down.

“Do you want me to get you something to drink?” she asked.

“No thanks,” he said, standing up. “I called home while you were waiting in line.”

“You did?” Carol seemed concerned.

“David said everything’s fine. Christopher’s in bed. I never pictured David as the baby-sitter type.”

“Maybe he’s not.” Carol looked at her watch. “But he’s the good brother type. He knew how much we needed to get out.”

Richard took her hand and led her over to a more secluded area in the lobby. “I know I’ve been concentrating on Christopher. I hope you haven’t felt neglected.”

Carol smiled.

Just as he leaned over and kissed her on the lips, the lights in the lobby flashed. They joined the crowd going up the stairs and found their seats. Richard mentioned again how good Hunter had been to let them have the tickets. He held Carol’s hand and dreamed out loud about someday writing a book that would be made into a popular musical or Hollywood hit. He laughed about how rich they’d be, and about how she’d be freed up to do whatever she wanted. She said she wouldn’t change a thing. She’d still practice law with the same firm.

“You never know what you’d do in entirely new circumstances,” he whispered as the lights were dimming. “Maybe you’d only want to practice part-time and spend more time with Christopher and me.”

The lights were out, and he was looking at the stage, but for a moment he thought he felt her staring at him. She started moving her hand out of his, but he held on tighter and squeezed hers until she finally let it stay.

CHAPTER
FORTY-EIGHT

R
ichard put the key in the front door of their apartment, but Carol grabbed his arm. “Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked.

“I had a great time. Being with you tonight was even better than excellent. We need to do this more often.”

“The night’s still young. David wouldn’t mind if we stayed out a little longer.”

“I know, but I don’t want to be gone too long,” he said as he opened the door. “I’m going to go check on Christopher.”

“Richard?”

“Yes?”

“I do want you to remember I love you. Very much.”

“I love you, too.” He turned back to Carol and held her in his arms, kissing her.

He closed the door and she locked all three locks.

He walked down the hall, but slowed down as he noticed the living room was dark. One lamp on the corner table was on, offering limited light, but the room was hidden in shadows. He didn’t see David.

“David?” Christopher’s bedroom door was shut. “Maybe he’s in the bathroom,” he said, turning to Carol. She was crying. “What’s wrong?”

“Believe me,” Carol said, “it’s for the best.”

“What are you talking about? What’s going on?” Her eyes moved, just for a second, to Christopher’s door, and he ran around the couch and opened the door. The room was empty, the covers on the floor. Pooh Bear was on the floor in the corner.

“David!” Richard shouted. “David!”

He heard moaning coming from their bedroom. When he opened the door, he found David lying on the floor. He knelt down beside his brother and took his pulse.

“He’s fine. They said they’d just use some gas on him,” Carol said. “Something to make him sleep through the night.”

“Carol?” Richard asked.

“I signed the papers.” Her crying made it difficult for her to speak.

“What papers? What do you mean?”

She shook her head.

He couldn’t understand anything, like he couldn’t think.

“I had them come from Newman and pick up Christopher,” Carol said.

“You did what?”

“He’s back where he belongs. Safe.”

Richard ran down the hall to the kitchen, then down to the office, each time searching for some sign of his son, but there was nothing. No one. He ran back into the living room. Carol was sitting on the chair, looking exhausted and dazed.

“Where is he?” he shouted.

“You were getting too close to him. I knew you wouldn’t let him go back at the end of the sabbatical.”

“Carol, tell me he’s not back at that place.”

“And when he was almost kidnapped,” she said, with more composure as she stood up, “I couldn’t take it any longer. You didn’t see the harm you were doing to him. And to us.”

“You didn’t do it for us. You did it for you and Hunter.”

“You know that isn’t true.”

Richard turned and headed down the hall.

“Where are you going?” she called after him.

“Where do you think?”

“I told you, I signed the papers. The sabbatical’s over, Richard.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“And I withdrew my consent. He’s back home, now, for good. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I’m going to get him.”

“They won’t give him to you, Richard. Remember, I’m a good lawyer.”

“And I’m a good father.” He turned to unlock the door, but she ran up the hall and grabbed him by the arm. “I’ll withdraw him for good.”

“You can’t—not without my signature.”

He stopped dead and turned to his wife. He wasn’t even sure anymore who he was looking at.

Richard fell against the wall, rubbing his forehead. Nothing made sense.

“I can’t believe this,” she said as she turned away. She walked a few steps down the hall, running her hands through her hair, but then turned around. “I’ve had enough of this. I want to be a family, with each one of us where we belong. But I’m not going
to spend the rest of my life playing the role of the wicked mother who imprisoned her son. You decide, Richard, either I stay, or I go. But if I stay, you’re going to be my husband, and you’re going to act like a husband should.”

“What are you saying?”

“Leave Christopher in Newman and you’ve got a family. Try to take him out, and I’m out of here. I’m gone. I’ll file for a divorce quicker than you can write a paragraph. If you try to get him out of Newman, I will fight you all the way. And I don’t lose fights.”

She turned back around and walked down the hall into the living room. Richard stared at the spot where his wife had stood seconds before. Carol had never talked about divorce before. Things were changing too quickly.

“Carol,” he said as he started down the hall. “Wait a minute. Let’s talk.” All he could see in his mind was his son, in his bed, trusting his daddy.

When he came to the living room, Carol was standing by the window. It had started raining. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end, he told himself. This wasn’t the summer he wanted.

And this wasn’t the family he had worked so hard for.

“You’re right, Carol,” he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear from across the room. She didn’t turn around. “I’ve been trying to have it both ways,” he continued. “I have to make a decision.”

Richard took a few steps forward, but stopped in the middle of the living room. “I don’t want to gain a son but lose a family. I don’t want you to leave.”

Carol turned around. “I was hoping you’d see it my way.”

“But whether you leave or not is your decision,” he said, “not mine. I’ve made my decision, Carol. I’m going to see my son
tonight—let him know I love him. Then I’m going to do whatever I have to—whatever I have to—to set him free.”

They both stood still for a moment, neither seeming to believe what he had just said. His wife’s gaze hardened into a stare that went through him. He turned around, and walked toward the hall.

“How can you do this?” she asked, on the verge of shouting. “You’re willing to throw our family away? You’re ruining us, Richard.” She followed him to the hall. “I’ll fight you on this.”

“I will not abandon my son.”

“You’ll never get custody. I’ll beat you.”

“Beating me won’t be enough, Carol. You’ll have to kill me to keep me from bringing my son back home.”

“Why can’t you care more about us than you do about yourself?”

Richard was at the front door when she shouted this. He picked up her briefcase, her constant, devoted companion ever since law school, and shook it. “This is what you care about, Carol.”

He threw the briefcase down the hall. It hit the wall and landed inches from her feet. Dozens of pages of legal documents covered the floor between them.

“You’ve got your papers,” he said. “You’ve always been married to your work, and these are your children. Talk with them. Play with them. Cuddle with them. And in your old age, you can rock them like the grandchildren you’ll never know.”

CHAPTER
FORTY-NINE

I
t was one o’clock in the morning and almost no one was on the streets. Not so much because of the time, but the rain. When the sun rose in a few hours, and the rain stopped, the air would feel cleaner. But now, the dirt in the air was washing down on anyone out on the streets.

Richard jumped out of the cab and ran up the steps to the school, but he still got drenched. He pulled on the door but it was, of course, locked. There was no protection over the door, so the rain kept pounding Richard as he pounded on the door. He studied the carving in the door of the pond and the animals, the lion standing nearby. This wasn’t a peaceful scene of animals defying the law of the jungle and getting along. This was the moment before the attack. This was the cunning lion, lulling his prey into complacency just before breaking its trust and going for the kill.

“Welcome to the Newman Home,” the computerized voice said. “Please wait here for security purposes.”

Richard heard that whirling sound and knew something was scanning him.

“I am sorry, Mr. Carson, but the Newman Home is not accepting visitors at this time.” “I want to see my son. Now.”

“I am sorry, but you are not authorized personnel.”

“I’m his father. Open this door.”

“I am sorry, but you are not authorized personnel.”

“Then bring Christopher here. Let me just see him. You can at least let me know if he made it here safely.”

Silence.

“You have to let me know that.”

“Mr. Carson,” a man’s voice said, “we don’t have to let you know anything.”

There was silence again. Richard pulled on the door but it didn’t move at all. “I’m not done talking with you. Come back here!”

He hit the top one of the door handles and cut his hand on the edge. He pounded the door with both fists, smearing blood on it. He kicked at the door, then threw his weight against it, but his efforts made no difference.

“Open this door,” he screamed.

Both of his hands were raw now, bleeding. Streaks of blood ran down the door, but refused to be completely washed off. An intense, bright light cut through the rain and reflected off the door, forcing Richard to cover his eyes.

“Raise your hands and turn around,” he heard from a loudspeaker on the street.

Richard turned, with his hands in the air, but when he tried to see who was there he was blinded by the bright light.

“Walk toward the light, slowly. Very slowly. Look straight ahead.”

Richard moved forward, feeling with his foot for the edge of each step. The rain kept falling hard, and when he got to the middle of the steps he slipped and fell forward, landing face-first on the sidewalk.

“Get up. Now! Get over here.”

Richard stood up from the wet pavement, the light still shining in his eyes. When he took a few steps forward, the light shut off and he couldn’t see anything for several seconds.

“Open the back door and get in,” the voice commanded.

Richard saw that it was a police car. He climbed in the back as ordered and looked at the officer through the wire divider.

“I hate this rain,” the officer said as he slipped the gear into drive and drove off. “Hard to see, you know?”