Amnesia (32 page)

Fire smoldered in her eyes as she glared at her mother, wondering if she even knew this woman anymore. She wondered what had happened to the sweet, fun-loving mother that she had ran to with skinned knees and wounded emotions. She wondered what had happened to the genteel lady she had emulated in her teen years, yearning to be like her. She wondered what happened to the compassionate woman who could touch the heart of the downtrodden and make them feel worthy. She wondered what had happened to the mother she had missed so fiercely during this nasty experience, whom she had wanted to hold her and rock her, ensuring her all would be set right.

“I love you mother, but I will not be a part of your imaginary, deceitful world.” She walked past her mother to the closet, changing into a fresh pair of jeans and blouse. “I’m going back to the man who respects me and wants what’s best for me, even if it hurts him. I’m going back to the church which opened its doors and arms for me, despite how debased I had become.” She walked back out of the closet, looked her mother square in the eye, and concluded, “I’m going back to Peter. If he will have me, knowing the depravity of my genes.”

Tawny had all she would take. She reached out and slapped Beverley with all the strength she had, leaving a red imprint of her hand across her daughter’s face. “If you walk out that door, don’t ever come back,” she yelled. “In fact if you feel that way about your family, I don’t want you in my house. Now get out. I said GET OUT!”

“No, you stay right where you are.”

Tawny whirled at the sound of the voice behind her, her hand already cocked to batter whoever dared defy her. Neither she nor Beverley had noticed Gregg enter the room, and were both caught off guard by his intervention.

“This is none of your affair, Gregg Windham! This is between me and my daughter, and you best stay out of it!” Tawny responded hotly.

“I beg to differ, Tawny. This is
our
daughter, and this affects me a great deal.”

Beverley stood staring at the exchange, feeling like a foreigner in a strange land. She had never seen her father stand up to her mother before. Although he was a forceful statesman, around his wife he had always been docile and acquiescent, as if he were intimidated by her mere presence.

“Gregg, what has come over you?” Tawny asked, her anger now diluted with a fearful sense of foreboding. “You know that I know best about these things. You should just go back down to your office and let me handle things here.”

“Not this time Tawny. You’ve gone too far. I will not allow you to throw our daughter out on the streets like a sack of russet potatoes.”

“Gregg, listen….” Tawny started, only to be interrupted again.

“No, you listen. For twenty-two years I’ve stayed out of your way, letting you concoct your dream world, knowing that it was mostly a fantasy. Most of the time I liked it too. So I stayed out of your way, simply sitting back and enjoying it. For the most part it was my dream too.

“But over these past few months, culminating in the time since Beverley was taken from us, I’d begun to realize that it was no longer my dream. And, yes, Beverley was taken, and it had nothing to do with her boyfriend. Although I don’t know exactly how it all worked, I was being asked to make compromises and calls that I didn’t feel comfortable with, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized they were using her absence to pressure me.

“The details don’t matter at this point,” he went on, seeing the look on the faces of his two favorite girls, “but I do know that they were threatening me with the promise of hurting my child.”

His throat began to constrict as he finally voiced the danger that his only child was in, choking him up, forcing him to pause long enough to get his emotions under control. He glanced away from his wife over to Beverley, the look of gratitude on her face for standing up for her was more than his heart could take. He began to sob again.

Beverley ran up to her father, throwing her arms around him, and they held each other in a crushing embrace as tears streamed down their emotional faces. Tawny, seeing the two together in such a way, felt oddly alone, as she often had in the past. The feeling, accompanied by the confusion of her husband’s outburst and the fight with Beverley, left her feeling completely lost, as if she were the stranger. Tears began to leak silently down her cheeks as well, and she turned away from the two, heading out the door.

She didn’t make it far before a strong hand caught her shoulder, and pulled her back into the room, including her in the familial embrace. At first she hesitated, tried to back away, but the two held her tightly, their unspoken love for her preventing the break. Together they stood, all three sobbing, though for slightly different reasons, united again, if only for a temporary respite.

Finally Gregg stepped back from the two, taking their hands in his, and spoke again, almost reverentially. “The time has come for all of us to re-evaluate our lives. Tawny, I know you want a fiefdom to rule, but that won’t happen. However, you do have quite the social life, and everything money and power has to offer. I know you have the most to lose—what you have spent your entire life trying to obtain. Well, I’m sorry to tell you that it won’t happen. You are a lovely, articulate, and popular woman, the envy of every woman in Idaho, and possibly the nation. Somehow you will have to come to understand that you have gone as far up as you will be able to go.”

He turned to his daughter standing to his right, and gazed lovingly into her eyes, knowing as well as she that their relationship was about to take on a new dimension. “Beverley, you’re no longer a child, anyone can see that. Although I still think of you as my little girl, you are a woman now, more so given the nightmare you must have endured. You will need to make a new life for yourself out there, even though your mother and I will always yearn to have things back the way they used to be.

“Remember, however, that you have been through a lot, and crises aren’t the best way to start relationships. Once the adrenaline is gone there may not be much left. We both know you will make a lot of mistakes, many of them very painful, but you will still need to make those choices and learn to live with the consequences.

“But also remember that your mother and I are always here to for you. Our home will always be open to you, but when you are here you must follow our rules. We will always love you and honestly want what’s best for you, even if you can’t always see that. I want you to promise me, though, that you will always respect us in return, even when you don’t agree with what we feel.”

“I will, Daddy. I will always love you too.” Then she looked over to her mother and took her empty hand, “I love you too.”

Tawny dropped her head, tears rising to the surface again, but this time from gratitude. She was still angry about Beverley’s decisions about Peter and the church, and she knew that the subject would come up again, probably heatedly. But she also knew how much she truly loved her family. “I love you two more than anything else. Anything.”

“I know you do,” Gregg continued. He then took a deep breath and pushed on. “As for me, I’ve decided to drop out of politics.” He quickly hushed the cries of protest from the two women, and then continued. “I’ve made more compromises than either of you will ever know. Each one has taken a piece of me with it. The final blow was using Beverley as leverage, but I knew long before then that I was having a difficult time living with myself because of some of the concessions. I’m tired and worn out, and I’m not even forty-five yet. If I continue on like this, I’ll die of a heart attack before I’m fifty. I just don’t love it like I used too.”

“What will you do?” Tawny asked sincerely.

“Well, we’re not exactly hurting,” he smiled back at her, “so I wouldn’t mind taking an extended vacation. I’ve thought about going up to the cabin in McCall for a year; enjoy the lake during the summer and the snow in the winter. But after that I’d like to start practicing law again. I was talking with Phil Dimmler at the District Attorney’s office, and he would love to have some help. Judge Ramirez also mentioned that an appointment to the Fifth Circuit Court might not be too much of a stretch. You know I’ve always thought that I’d make a good judge.”

The trio laughed at the comment, easing the tension in the air. Each of them realized that although many changes were coming, they still had each other. Only Beverley realized that perhaps someday they would be able to make that permanent for all eternity, but she wisely kept it to herself. At least for now.

“Now Beverley, if you don’t want to wear that dress, don’t,” Gregg allowed. “Give it away, burn it, whatever you like. But I do need you to join us for our get together tonight. Most of those attending will want to see how you are doing, to make sure you’re really alright. I need you to look shining and radiant, to show the world that we will not be bullied. Not because you’re a Windham,” he paused looking over at Tawny, who ducked her head at his glance, “but because the world needs to know that the bullies won’t win, that we will survive and come out stronger for it. Can you do that for me?”

“Of course, Daddy.”

“Good. Now your mother knows more about these things than any woman alive, and I strongly suggest you listen to her advice. Do what she says. Get yourself fixed up, buy a new dress, whatever it takes. Can you two do that and not strangle each other?”

Both women looked coyly at each other, and then Beverley smiled, releasing a hint of a giggle, bringing a smile to Tawny’s lips as well.

“We’ll be fine dear,” the elder woman answered. The three hugged again before going their separate ways, reluctant for the unexpected closeness to pass, yet knowing that the world spun on despite their wishes.

After ten days of horror, intimidation, and evil conspiring, the Windham’s were once again a family, stronger now than ever before.

*
             
             
*
             
             
*

The incessant wheezing of the ventilator accompanied by the constant cadence of the cardiac monitor reached through the fog of his mind as consciousness slowly returned to the supine patient. Gradually the medication wore off, allowing the senses to resume their appointed role of gathering input, which was beginning to coalesce into reason. The drug-induced coma was finally lifting; the suffering man was waking.

Almost painfully he opened his eyes, cognizant of the harsh glare of the hospital lights shining down from the ceiling above, turning his recently darkened world into one of stark white. He allowed his eyes to sluggishly pan around the room, taking subtle note of the cream colored walls adorned with various hooks, knobs, and medical apparatus befitting a hospital room. Then he noticed the rotund ebony colored nurse checking the tubing hanging from a metal tree next to the bed.

The pungent odor of disinfectant and other “hospital smells” began to crowd his olfactory senses, lending additional proof of his location and disposition. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten here or what was wrong, but he knew where he was and a signal of warning went through his mind, although he couldn’t yet place the possible danger.

Suddenly he became aware of something hard and unforgiving protruding from his mouth. Panic began to set in as he feared he would suffocate. He tried to reach up and pull it out, but the paralytic drug in his system still had hold on his extremities. His hands merely floundered like a fish lying helpless in the bottom of a fishing trawl, doing nothing but bringing attention to his plight.

“He’s coming around doctor,” observed the nurse, who was wearing an ID tag stating her name was “Dolores” and a smock printed with a busy assortment of caricatures of teddy bears, cats, dogs, and red crosses.

“Good morning, Mr. Marconi,” an elderly man greeted him, stepping in front of the nurse on his right side. “I’m Doctor Cliffe and I’ve been overseeing your case for the last several days. I bet you’re feeling a little confused and scared right now, that’s to be expected, but you are in no danger. First off, let’s get that tube out of your mouth. You won’t be needing it any longer.”

The doctor disconnected the ventilator from the endotracheal tube and then gently pulled the tape back away from his face freeing the plastic. “Now I’m going to count to three and then I want you to cough. At the same time I will pull the tube out. Ready? One, two, three!”

As Doctor Cliffe said “three” he pulled hard on the long tube. Marconi coughed as instructed, lending the force of his contracting diaphragm to the removal. In an instant he was freed of the life-sustaining device, and he coughed a few more times in reaction to the irritation the foreign object caused. He grimaced at the pain in his throat, intensified by the cough, but was relieved by the sense of freedom.

“Now your throat will hurt for a few hours, but it will fade. Drinking some water will help that, as well as helping rid that nasty aftertaste of the plastic,” the doctor suggested.

“You should be able to talk just fine,” he paused, glancing over at someone else in the room that Marconi had not yet noticed, “but take it easy, and don’t
overdo
it. Your body still has a lot of recuperating to do and the best pr
escription for that is good old-
fashioned sleep. Now here is your call button. If you need anything at all just push that and Dolores here will be right in.”

Doctor Cliffe stepped back away from the bed indicating he was finished, and signaled Dolores to leave also. As she turned Marconi noticed she had a fresh bandage affixed at the base of her skull, and it occurred to him that she had seemed rather nervous in the room, something he found odd.