NO MAN AN ISLE
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Chapter 8
"How lovely," Mrs. Smythe said when Don removed the covering. "I knew you could give it life with the right feeling about what you were doing. Don't you agree?"
"Yes. I ..." His attention was diverted by an attractive girl near his own age coming in through the beach door.
"Suzanne, dear, I want you to meet someone." Mrs. Smythe called.
"In a minute, mother. I'm dripping all over the place." She ran lightly up the stairs.
"I want you to meet my daughter, Mr. Warner. Won't you and Mr. Lawrence join us for lunch?"
"You are most kind." Kurt accepted, reading Don's wistful expression.
Suzanne quickly monopolized Don, but Kurt was at no disadvantage for Mrs. Smythe chatted steadily. Don interrupted to ask if he might have the Jeep the following evening, Suzanne having invited him to a dance at a private club to which her parents belonged. Don seemed ecstatic and Kurt, after an encouraging look from Mrs. Smythe, agreed.
It was not until they were at lunch that Don, needing to cut a slice of ham, lifted the hook into sight. Kurt was instantly aware as Suzanne broke off mid-sentence. She stared at the hook in disbelief. "I... I'm afraid I forgot. I can't go tomorrow."
"I wasn't aware ... " her mother began.
"Excuse me, mother." She rushed from the room.
Excusing herself also, Mrs. Smythe followed her daughter up the stairs.
"Suzanne, how could you be so rude?" She asked behind the closed door of her daughter's room.
"Did you know he only had one arm?" Suzanne snapped accusingly.
"Of course, dear. What difference could that possibly make?"
"You might have told me before you let me make a fool of myself by asking him to take me to the dance."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"How can I go to the dance with somebody like that? If he touched me with that ... that thing, I'd just die. It's hideous. And all the gang will think I'm so hard up I have to date cripples."
Her mother stared at her in shock. "I've never known you to say such an unkind thing, much less to so deliberately hurt someone's feelings. That young man has suffered from a terrible accident, but he has overcome it and is well on his way to becoming a talented artist. How do you think he must feel just now? Wash your face and come back to the table."
"I won't! I'd die! Why don't you ever think about me? Just because you think he's so wonderful doesn't mean I have to. I'm not going down as long as he's here."
Despite the pleas and threats, she stubbornly refused to return to the table, even to apologize.
Returning to her place at the table, Mrs. Smythe made an apology and tried to carry the conversation as the meal dragged to an end. As soon as politely possible, Kurt and Don left.
Don sat rigidly in stony silence during the drive home. When Kurt stopped the Jeep in front of the house, he saw the tears in Don's eyes. He shook his head sadly.
"Don, many people have an irrational fear of physical imperfection. It's a reflection of their insecurity. What's happened hasn't changed us as persons, but others won't always see it that way."
"Does it make me a freak? She's the first girl I've met who really had something going for her. We had a lot to talk about and I really wanted to go out with her and have some fun. Her mother didn't seem to care." He held up the hook and glared at it. "I hate this damn thing! I wish they'd let me die!"
Kurt grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Stop it!"
"How the hell would you know what it's like?" Don snarled.
"Don't I, Don?" He replied quietly.
Don looked at him, puzzled expression suddenly turning to one of horror. "Oh, God, Kurt, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
They were almost to the steps when Don broke away, ran to the Jeep, and roared off down the drive.
"Don! Don!" Kurt yelled after him.
Wracked with fear for Don, he went to the kitchen and poured himself a straight bourbon. He downed it, poured another and gulped it down, feeling the liquor burn in his throat as he sat with his face buried in his hands. His head jerked up at a sound. He raced to the door. Tony stood there, hand raised to knock.
"Oh! I thought ..."
"Chief says for you to hurry."
"Don?"
"He had an accident. He's okay, but the chief wanted me to get you."
Kurt mentally screamed at Tony to drive faster though it was all but impossible to stay in the jouncing vehicle. In the curve of the station's drive, his Jeep lay on its side in the sand.
He would have forced his way into the chief's quarters where he could see Erik and Adams holding a struggling figure on the bed had not the chief's heavy hands pushed him into a chair next to the desk. The incoherent cries grew softer until Don lay in a drugged sleep. Kurt jumped up as Erik came through the door. "How bad is he hurt?"
Erik pushed him gently back into the chair. "He was lucky. When the Jeep flipped, he landed in the sand. He's got a badly sprained ankle and some cuts from shell, but he'll be okay."
"Tell me what's going on," the chief demanded. "The men carried him in here raving about wanting to die. How he didn't deserve to live after what he'd done to you. I know how much you mean to him, so I know he wouldn't have hurt you the way he thinks."
Reassured that Don suffered no serious injury, Kurt recounted the events leading to the outburst. Erik punched the wall with his fist, swearing until the chief's sharp command brought him back to reason. Both he and Kurt turned to the older man.
"What can we do, Chief?" Kurt asked.
"I don't know. I got to give this some real thought and maybe talk it over with Adams. Both o' you try not to worry about it any more than you can."
Ski stuck his head in the door. "I ... ugh ... I found this when we tipped your Jeep back over." He gingerly held out Don's prosthesis to Kurt. "Your Jeep's okay. Scratched up the paint a little and you lost some gas, but it runs fine. You can go ahead and drive it."
"Thanks, Ski," replied the chief.
Kurt looked at the chief. "Don can't stay here. I'll take him home when he wakes up."
The chief nodded. "You go on ahead. Erik and Adams can bring him home in a little bit. Adams thinks it would be good for him to wake up in his own bed. He said you might have some soup or something light for his dinner."
Kurt turned down Don's bed and paced the floor until he heard the whine of the station's all-purpose vehicle. He held the door while Erik gathered Don up in his arms and carried him up the stairs, followed by the medic. Kurt looked down at the still sleeping boy who lay small in the bed.
Adams sensed his strain. "Quit worrying. He's going to be okay, except for being sore. He should stay off that ankle for a couple of days, so I brought a crutch along, just in case you have a hard time keeping him in bed."
"Will you stay until he wakes up?"
"Sure. It'll be better if you go below and let Lindstrom and me handle this. We'll call you when we think he's ready to talk to you."
Kurt paced the kitchen wondering how could he reassure Don. The tea burned his mouth unnoticed. He set the mug down, thinking he heard - yes, Don moaned again, then Erik speaking in soothing tones. He walked to the foot of the stairs in expectation, still standing there when the chief came in. The chief put a hand on Kurt's shoulder and drew him back into the kitchen.
"Come along, son, we both need a drink."
He grabbed the bottle Kurt had left on the counter and poured a couple of neat bourbons before taking a chair.
"I know how you feel, son, 'cause I feel it, too. Give the boy some time to pull himself together and have some faith in his good sense. I'm guessing in a way maybe all of us are to blame. We've treated him like one o' us and he's fergot how harsh that world outside can be. He's done gone out and had the bad luck to get hurt the first time he tried to face life on its own terms.
"I remember the kid you brought to the station a few days after he come here. That ain't the Don we know, that's the one in bed up there now, young, hurt, and confused. You meant well by giving him a home and caring 'bout him, but you most likely made it easier for him to get hurt all over again. I thought maybe that incident with Kendrick would make him see things the way they really are, but they became friends. Don gits along with all of us just fine, but one rejection from a stranger and he goes to pieces like you did. Now, we'll just have to wait and see."
Kurt raised his eyes to the chief's, his words bitter. "Then I'm responsible for all of this?"
"You ain't a-listening to me. I didn't say that. It don't look like the boy had nobody but himself before he met you. You give him a home and security just like you give Erik. You saved Erik. He's become a man I'm proud to know. I know Don acts mighty independent most of the time; he had to when he was on his own and didn't have nobody. That kind of makes us ferget he's still awful young in a lot of ways. If he can grow to accept his limitations, the world out there on its own terms, and the hurts that's going to come with it, then he'll be a man.
"He loves you and I 'spect that's most likely the whole trouble. Seems you're about the first person he's ever been able to love and trust and git the same in return. Iffin I'm right, it'll make him a heap o' trouble simply 'cause he feels so strongly 'bout you. Right now I think he's more embarrassed than anything else, 'cause he thinks he's hurt you like he's been hurt. We got to make him understand you know what it's all about." He looked searchingly at Kurt. "Or do you?"
Kurt shook his head resignedly. "I don't, Chief. You know that. That's the main reason I came out here. I'm afraid. I guess I sensed the same fear in Don; that's why I took him in. I didn't really want to be alone, but I was afraid to be around other people. I still am. As Don said, I'm afraid they'll think me a freak.
"I've drawn on Don's strength and Erik's, as well as yours." Kurt held up a warning hand. "No, don't say it. They needed refuge and understanding. I could provide that, but I took their response - friendship, love, call it what you will - and used it to sustain myself. I'm afraid, Chief. God help me, I'm afraid to even try facing the world out there. It's all I can do just to go to the village.
"Did you know that Don almost left when we went to get Erik? He stayed because I told him I needed him. It's true. I do need him. I love him; I feel free around him. I'm selfish, I know, but if anything happened to him or Erik, I couldn't go on."
"I told you once you learned from your uncle. You remember that?"
"I was going to ask you about that. I still don't know what you meant."
"Your uncle was a solitary man but he always gave of himself, first to his students and later, after he come here, to all of us at the station. The only thing he asked in return was our company. He wasn't afraid of hell itself. We got a lot more from him than we gave, not in things but in strength. They wasn't a man at the station in those days but wouldn't o' died for him. You been blaming yourself fer this and I ain't helped none, but it ain't all taking on your part. If you can get over your own fears and go out with your head held high and to hell with what other people think, then Don and Erik can draw on your strength."
Kurt stared at the chief so bleakly the man feared he had not understood.
"You goin' a-make me say it? You and Don are cripples, but only because that's the way you think o' yourselves. You walk almost perfectly now, not at all like the way you was stumbling 'round when you first come here. The only way I'd know your leg is gone is when you get tired and have a little bit of a limp most people wouldn't even notice, but I doubt you believe you've improved any. Sure, there's always somebody who'll stare and pity you if you happen not to wear the leg. That don't matter. What counts is how you think o' yourself. You accept Don as perfectly normal, and he accepts you the same way. That's the way the all o' us at the station think of you, too. But let one outsider stare at either o' you and you fall apart. Okay, you both got limitations, but who don't? You and Erik are real musicians; I don't know one note from another. Don paints like a professionally by instinct, an' I can't draw a straight line with a ruler. I'm 'round people twenty-four hours a day and love it while Erik still goes off the deep end if he sees two or three people together. He has to be alone sometime. Do you see what I'm gettin' at?"
Kurt nodded slowly.
"All right, then. Let's get the boy straightened out first and take care of the rest as it comes along."
"Help me to take care of myself, as well as Don and Erik, Chief."
"That's what I'm here fer. Now you set there an' finish that drink whil'st I go have a talk with the boy."
Kurt lit a cigarette with shaking hands. Forcefully reminded of the truth he'd tried to avoid, he felt as if the chief had physically beaten him. At the sound of footsteps, he looked up. Adams stood in the doorway.
"Thanks for your help, Doc."
Adams smiled as he poured himself a cup of coffee then took a seat across from Kurt. "Don's going to be okay. Erik and the chief are talking to him."
"When will he talk to me?"
"Give him time, man! I've got a case of borderline hysteria on my hands and you want instant cures," Adams said with impatience. "It takes time to reason with someone in that mental state." He finished his coffee. "I'm going back to the station. Give him something light to eat and make him stay in bed. I'll be back tomorrow morning. If you need me before, give me a call."
Kurt nodded in response, trying to sort out in his mind all that had been said. The murmur of voices finally registered; Erik and the chief stood beside him.
The chief spoke more quietly than usual. "Go to him, son. Just listen to him and think before you say anything. Erik's going to stay over. He can fix something for you both and come back to the station tomorrow with Adams."
Kurt sat on the side of the bed, but Don would not meet his eyes. "How do you feel?"
"Sore. What about the Jeep?"
"It's okay. I drove it home. "
"Did I hurt it any?"
"I don't give a damn about the Jeep as long as you're okay." He put his arm around Don's shoulders. "Why?"
The boy hung his head. "I ... I was stupid and hurt you. I wanted to talk to the chief to find out what to do."
"You didn't hurt me, Don. I was hurt with you. Don't you know that?"
"Forgive me, Kurt."
"There's nothing to forgive you for."
"Yeah, there is. Everything."
"Oh, Don, don't you know I love you? Nothing else matters." Kurt hugged him then pressed him back on the pillow. "You need some rest. Erik is here and so am I. Don't you want something to eat?"
Don shook his head.
"He doesn't want anything." Kurt said when Erik came to the door with a tray.
"He needs it whether he wants it or not." Erik said firmly. "You go on down. We'll have something as soon as I've fed him."
Don reached out for the tray, but dropped his arms and looked around. "Where's my hook?"
"It's at the station. You snapped the cable from the harness when you fell out of the Jeep. I'll see if I can fix it for you."
"Thanks."
"No problem. Now eat."
When Erik came down, the bowl and glass he'd carried up were empty. "I told you he'd eat. I got the radio out of your room for him."
As he and Kurt were eating, the buzzer sounded.
"What's that?"
"It's the gate," Kurt replied, going to the intercom. "Yes?"
"Edith Smythe, Mr. Lawrence. I'm sorry to drop in this way, but I wanted to speak with Mr. Warner."
"Just a moment, please." He pressed the button to open the gate.
"What the hell does that old biddy want?" Erik cried in exasperation.
"I don't know, but it must be important or she wouldn't have come this far."
"And you're going to see her after all of this?"
"It's not her fault. She's been very generous toward Don." Kurt opened the door.
Mrs. Smythe clambered ungracefully out of a sports vehicle driven by a young man. "Oh, dear. That was quite a ride. I hadn't imagined you lived so far up." She paused to get her breath.
"Please come in. I'm rather surprised that you managed to find us."
"I called the sheriff and he arranged to have that young man bring me. He said my car would never make it. Now I understand why."
"I believe you will be more comfortable in here." Kurt led the way into the library. "May I offer you coffee or a drink?"
"Coffee would be wonderful." She looked about the room. Only the lights over the paintings and the lamps by the wing chairs were on. "The paintings are gorgeous."
Erik appeared with the tray; Kurt pleased that he had thought to use the silver pot and china cups, rather than the thermal mugs they used every day.
"Is Mr. Warner at home?"
Erik muttered something indistinctly. Kurt shot him a warning glance, then answered her, "I'm sorry, but he's in bed."
"So early? He's not ill?"
"I'm afraid he is."
"I'm so sorry. I wanted to apologize again for Suzanne's disgraceful behavior. I ... well, words cannot express how distressed I am about this. I'll not make excuses for her, her behavior is inexcusable."
"Yeah. It's her fault Don was nearly killed this afternoon," Erik blurted.
"Damn it, Erik!" Kurt snapped, just as Don called out.
"I'll go." Erik left the room quickly.
Mrs. Smythe sat aghast. "What ever did he mean, Mr. Lawrence?"
"I must apologize for Erik. He should have kept quiet, but he's upset over Don."
"You must tell me. He's made a serious accusation."
"Please believe me when I say we don't hold you responsible in any way. Don's never adjusted to the loss of his hand, and when your daughter ... , he was upset. When we got home, he was going to talk to a friend and drove too fast in the sand. The Jeep turned over."
"Is he seriously hurt?"
"Fortunately nothing more than a minor cut or two and a sprained ankle. He'll be up in a day or so."
"My husband is a physician, surely you'll permit him to look in."
"There's no need. The medic at the Coast Guard station took care of him. I assure you that everything is well taken care of."
"But surely ..."
Kurt smiled at her. "Nothing, really. You've been most kind to encourage Don in his painting. That means a great deal to all of us, and your criticism has been even more valuable."
"That's nothing. I believe I told you that when I purchase a painting, I want the personality of the artist to show through. I'm aware that Mr. Warner has a way to go, but he shows promise. I hope I shall be able to share in the credit for seeing him started right."
"You may indeed. Neither Erik nor I know enough about art to help him; you have."
She finished her coffee and picked up her handbag. "I intend to continue my interest in his work. Please tell him how sorry I am." She paused at the door. "May I call again?"
"We'all be happy to have you. Perhaps after a week or so when Don is back on his feet. "
"Thank you."
When he had closed the door behind her, he heard Don calling and climbed the stairs rapidly.
"Who was it? Erik wouldn't tell me."
"It was Mrs. Smythe. She came to apologize to you."
Don turned on Erik accusingly. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"
"Don't you think you've had enough trouble from her?" He replied through clinched teeth.
"It wasn't her fault. She's tried to help me."
Kurt interrupted. "Erik, you need a drink. You're uptight over nothing. You'll be okay, won't you, Don?"
"Sure." He yawned. "I'm about ready to go to sleep anyway."
For the first time since he'd known him, Kurt was truely irritated with Erik. "Your conduct towards Mrs. Smythe was nearly as bad as her daughter's." He said, once they were in the kitchen.
"Are you putting me in the same class as that tramp?" Erik snapped back.
"Shut up! You could have been civil to her even if you don't like her. She went to the trouble to hire a car and driver and come all this way to apologize. Surely you can see that she's as upset by this as we are. I think you owe her an apology of your own. Don acted more adult than you."
"You're pushing!" Erik snarled. "If you don't care enough about the kid to protect him from people like that, then, damn it, I'll take him to the station where I can look out for him."
"My caring or not caring about Don has nothing to do with this, as you'd know if you stopped being so emotional. The chief was right when he said that I'm the one who's overprotective. Maybe Don and I both need a few good knocks to remind us of the world out there." He could see from the set of Erik's jaw that further comment would be useless, but at least he hadn't left in a snit. Kurt stood behind him and put his hands on his shoulders. "I'm sorry it happened, but it did. Let's forget it and concentrate on getting Don back to normal."
At last Erik's eyes met his. "I'm sorry. I know I'm still hot-headed, but that kid has a way of getting to you."
Kurt nodded. "See if he's asleep. I'm about ready to turn in myself."
Kurt awakened to find Erik standing in the door of his room, a mug of coffee in his hand, a smile on his face. "Don's awake. I've carried him his breakfast and I'll have ours ready in a minute."
Adams came in as they were finishing eating. Don, though sore, begged the medic to let him get up.
"It's going to be a problem, Kurt. He's got a couple of cuts on his stump so he can't use the prosthesis until they heal, and I'm afraid for him to try the steps with just one crutch."
"You and Erik get him downstairs and I'll take it from there. He can sleep on the other bed in my room until he can manage the stairs on his own. I'll make sure he doesn't overdo it."
Don lay on the sofa reading for the rest of the morning, but while Kurt was fixing lunch, he looked up to see Don, propped on the crutch, standing in the doorway.
"I thought you were told to stay on the sofa."
"I can't take it any longer. Besides, I want to eat in here." He sat at the table and watched Kurt set places for them. "That's my job. I'm letting you down."
"It's about time I did something. You've let me get lazy."
"Not a chance. Would you take the step-stool in the library for me?"
"For what?"
"Long as I've got to stay put, I might as well paint. It'll give me a chance to get down some ideas I've got. I'm tired of just lying there."
"As long as you don't work so much you become exhausted."
After they had eaten, he placed a canvas on the easel and helped Don get comfortable, everything he needed within reach. When Don began to paint, he went to the harpsichord to practice.
Some time later, he looked over Don's shoulder. The old house was neatly blocked out from the sketch in the pad.
"That may be your best painting yet."
"It's going to really tough to get all that shading right, that's why I started it. I can't get up and run away when it gets tough."
"You should take a break. You've been at it nearly all afternoon."
"Okay." Don slid off the stool onto both feet. With a yelp of pain, he slipped to the floor. He looked up ruefully at Kurt. "I forgot."
"I used to forget, too. I pulled myself up from the floor quite a few times before I got the leg." He helped Don back to the sofa, where he fell asleep within minutes.
It was Friday before Adams returned, Erik with him.
"We had a surprise inspection of the station. I wasn't sure we'd get the weekend." Erik grinned. "It's a good thing you couldn't hear the chief. I don't think he's in any mood to have us around."
"Carry him upstairs, Lindstrom, and we'll find out what sort of job I did."
Adams pulled the tape from Don's cheek. The cut was closed, red and puckered. The medic cut the silk and deftly removed the two tiny stitches. "Sorry, sport, but I expect you're going to have a small scar. Wish I could have prevented it."
"That's okay. Now I match Kurt."
He removed the strapping from Don's ankle. "See if you can stand."
As the medic and Erik steadied him between them, Don took a step and grimaced with pain.
"You don't need me anymore. Your ankle is still swollen, but you can walk on it now. It'll hurt, but the exercise will do it good." Adams shrugged. "Get help if you need it, but otherwise do whatever you want. An ice pack will help if it hurts."
Erik carried Don down the stairs and handed him the hook.
"You fixed it!"
"I hope. You must have dug it in deep when you hit. I had to take the thing apart and clean the sand out of the bearing and the cable. See if it works okay."
Don slipped into the harness and flexed the hook open with a smile. "It's just like new. Thanks, Erik."
"No problem. Try not to get it in such a mess again."
"I won't. I'm glad you could do it, 'cause it costs a lot to have it done in a shop."
"Cost is immaterial, Don," Kurt said. "We're both dependent on our prostheses and replacement is very expensive. Try to take better care of it."
"I will." He pointed to the easel. 'What do you think of this one, Erik?"
"I like it better than anything you've done. It's fantastic the way you got all the colors."
"I wouldn't have if you hadn't made that shot for me to go by. Since you like it so much, it's yours."
"I can't afford it."
"How come?"
"You got seventy-five for the one of the station, so this one should be worth a lot more. Your prices are too steep for a poor coastie like me."
"Did I say anything about money? If you want it, you'd better take it while you can."
"Thanks, Don. I really appreciate it. Kurt, where can we hang this? I don't want to take it to the station."
"Take down that awful print behind the console. I've never liked it, but I didn't have anything else."
Don lingered over dinner then sat listening to Kurt and Erik play a duet.
"Feels good to relax," he commented when they finished.
"You've been at it awfully steady."
"I guess."
Erik stopped Kurt as he was about to go to his room. "I'm sorry about losing my temper the other night. I've written to Mrs. Smythe, but I'm really sorry about what I said to you."
"Forget it. I'm just thankful that it wasn't any worse." He replied, stunned that Erik had admitted a fault.
To be continued...
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Posted: 08/01/08