Painless (14 page)

Chapter 29

The meal would be delayed. Waiting for Jordan inside the manor house was another visitor. In contrast to Jones, this man was neatly attired in business casual and sporting a graying crew cut. He appeared to have lost a fight with a tanning bed, sun blisters scarring his face.

Jordan looked surprised by the man’s presence, but recovered without missing a beat, pleasantly greeting him, “Franklin—to what do I owe such a pleasure?”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner, but I was in the area and wanted to check the camera in section six. I also hear you have a new employee here on the grounds and I’d like to fit him with his security clearance.”

Jordan turned to the Whitcombs. “This is Mr. Franklin Stipe of Stipe Security. He runs our security system here at the plantation. He does such a fine job that I also hired him for the security at the hospital.”

Stipe affably greeted them with a shake of his calloused hand. “I won’t be long. I just have to meet with Dr. Jordan for a few minutes on some issues. Then you folks can have your dinner.”

Billy noticed a similar dismayed look on Carolyn’s face as when she met Jones, and not just because this intrusion was holding up dinner. Stipe took special notice of the girl, kneeling down to match her height. “And who do we have here?”

Jordan interjected, “This is Princess Carolyn Whitcomb from Connecticut. She is a guest of mine. She’s one of the lucky few to have Congenital Insensitivity Pain with Anhidrosis.”

Stipe forcefully pinched her arm, which got no reaction from Carolyn. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t feel any pain,” he said, also aware the symptoms of CIPA. It might’ve been rare in the outside world, but was common knowledge at the plantation.

“You are a pretty little thing. And I guess if you are going to go to Duke, then you also must be one smart girl,” Stipe said, noticing her sweatshirt.

Carolyn stood frozen in silent-statue mode.

Beth didn’t approve of her daughter’s behavior. “What do you say, Carolyn?”

She remained a stoic glacier.

“Carolyn—what do you say?” Beth’s tone firmed.

She stood frozen for another moment, and then blurted at Stipe, “You should wear sunblock—the ubee rays got you!”

Beth was infuriated, but Jordan stepped in. “The princess has had a tedious day, Mr. Stipe,” he defused, before turning his attention to Carolyn, “I will just be a few minutes, princess, and then we will have some steaks and strawberry milk, I promise. And as a doctor, I concur with your diagnosis, Mr. Stipe should wear sunblock.”

The two men disappeared into Sir Quincy’s former bedchamber. Jordan had mentioned that the room had been converted into an office at the end of Sir Quincy’s life so he could “conduct business” while he was bedridden, dying of scarlet fever. As a tribute, Jordan used it as his home office.

The moment the heavy door shut behind the men, Beth began the lecture. “Young lady, when someone talks to you, you answer them. You treat people the way you want to be treated. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Dragons are here,” she said.

“Carolyn!”

“Dragons!”

Chuck picked her up, attempting to be the good cop. “That’s not very nice, princess.”

Billy examined her face. He’d always been impressed at how well thought-out she was at such a young age. If she were hungry, tired, or just being a bratty four-year-old, then it would’ve manifested into an outpouring of drama and emotion, all building to an inevitable temper tantrum. The coldness was different. He didn’t know what to make of it, but something wasn’t right.

Fifteen minutes later, Jordan returned without Stipe. He led them to an elegant dining room with similar block-print wallpaper as the saloon, but this one featuring a nature design, filled with garden greenery and floating leaves. Hanging over the long table was a large triangular object that looked like the blade of a guillotine.

“It’s a fan,” Jordan said, noticing their strange looks. “In the 18th and early 19th century, two slaves would stand by the dinner table and adjust the wires to fan Sir Quincy and his esteemed guests.”

On cue, a plump woman entered, carrying shiny stainless-steel dishes piled with mouthwatering food. Her silver hair was grandmotherly, but her mocha skin was baby smooth like she just arrived from an Ivory Soap commercial, giving her a youthful glow. Billy’s best guesstimate was that she was in her fifties.

Steam seeped off the dishes and the smell of steak filled the room, to the delight of all. Except Carolyn, who remained out of sorts and uncooperative.

“This is Miss Rose, the best cook in the great state of Virginia, and that’s a modest review of her talents,” Jordan exulted.

She flashed a genial smile as she poured sweet tea for the adults, and actually evoked a reaction from Carolyn. No small task in her current state.

“You are named after a flower, Miss Rose,” Carolyn said.

“You are as pretty as a flower, darling,” Miss Rose replied in a motherly tone and handed her a glass of strawberry milk.

But Carolyn’s smile left with Miss Rose’s departure. She then further infuriated her mother by choosing to hide under the table. Beth again apologized to Jordan for her behavior, but he reminded her that she has been through a lot over the last few weeks, and if she was happy hiding from the dragons under the table, then it was okay with him.

Midway through dinner, Jordan took another sip of his sweet tea and turned to Billy, “So what do you do, Mr. Harper?”

Billy told him of his writing and how he’d come to know Carolyn and the Whitcombs, including their “shelter for babysitting” arrangement. He kept it vague, not revealing any of the painful past that led him to the cottage. He then mentioned his plan to write an article on Carolyn and CIPA for the
Shoreline Times
.

Jordan’s face became unnerved. “I would be very careful about bringing attention to Carolyn and her condition.”

“And why is that?”

“I’ve worked with a lot of these children. Their calling is unique, which has led to certain groups believing that CIPA kids are children of the messiah. There have been kidnap attempts.

“But it’s not just those searching recklessly for new gods,” he continued. “Radical science has also posed a threat. An estimated fifty million people suffer from chronic pain, and there are those who think studying someone with Carolyn’s unique genetic situation will allow them to find cures for pain. In other words, turn them into guinea pigs for science.”

Then probably noticing the fear on Beth’s face, he softened his rhetoric, “I don’t mean to be an alarmist, these are very rare instances. But I think it’s always better to be safe than sorry. So I’d be very careful of spurring on any excessive attention.”

Miss Rose returned with wine goblets filled with fluffy chocolate mousse for dessert, along with plates of peach cobbler. She delivered Carolyn’s under the table, again receiving a brief smile.

During dessert, Jordan outlined a plan for going forward, “so she can balance a normal life and safety,” including things they need to watch for, and what are the best choices for the joints.

When the meal came to an end, Jordan called on Mitchell Jones to drive Billy and the Whitcombs to the airport. This time Jones seemed more eager to perform his boss’s wishes. Beth apologized to Jones for Carolyn’s behavior, which he deflected, declaring that all kids are “pains in the ass.”

As they followed Jones’s trail of cigarette smell toward his vehicle, Billy held Carolyn’s hand.

“Dragons,” he heard her whisper to herself.

Chapter 30

The phone call came in to his Ridgewood, New Jersey, home just before ten in the evening.

“We have another potential recruit,” declared the voice on the other end.

Naqui smiled at the shaking Claire to indicate he would be back by her side in a matter of moments, then took the cordless into the next room. “Give me the details,” he said, now standing in his private library.

“Four years old, female, from the United States, and seems to have a fetish for strawberry milk.”

“And you’ve seen her?”

“Had them over for dinner tonight. Jones is driving them back to the airport as we speak,” Jordan gushed boastfully

“Isn’t that risky?”

“Unlike Hasenfus, or whatever he’s calling himself these days, I don’t bypass the details,” Jordan said, never using Stipe’s real name over the phone. “All the members were locked away in the ‘security room’ prior to their visit. Speaking of which, I don’t appreciate it when he shows up unannounced while I’m entertaining, as he did tonight.”

This didn’t alleviate any of Naqui’s fears. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Rutherford was right. Operation Anesthesia was a house of cards built on a foundation eroded by arrogance, unchecked egos, and personal agendas. But tonight was not the night to address that. He had a more important issue waiting for him in the next room. He needed to get back to her. “Do you expect any issues with this girl?”

“A friend of the family writes for some local nothing paper in their hometown.”

“Publicity is bad. We never could touch that girl in Georgia when her story went national.”

“I wouldn’t expect the same here. The press is too interested in hanging the president over his response to Iran. No need for any human-interest filler stories right now.”

Naqui fell into a trance, thinking about the brilliant young doctor who interned for him years ago. For Naqui, it was love at first sight. Not the kind of love found at the end of Cupid’s arrow, but he fell in love with the many doors Jordan’s brilliance could open for Operation Anesthesia. It was probably reckless to involve him in Anesthesia, but love will make people do crazy things.

Naqui couldn’t deny that Jordan’s brilliance had taken Operation Anesthesia to heights he never dreamed of. And his hidden plantation provided the perfect canvas for their masterpiece. It also allowed Naqui to delegate the medical research and concentrate on running Operation Anesthesia as the Chief Managing Partner, the CMP.

But Jordan’s motives were different than his own. It wasn’t about the greater good with Jordan. It was about an ego so large that no amount of riches could fill it. Jordan was born with a God-complex, and science and God were often a toxic mix. Naqui had brushed off such thoughts for years, but now worried that such a mix would end up contributing to their downfall. But tonight he had bigger priorities.

Naqui searched for the resolve he re-found in Washington, and located Lincoln’s words.
Unfinished business. So their deaths are not in vain.

“Give it a few days and then send in Hasenfus and his squad to pick up the girl,” Naqui said. He hung up the phone and returned to Claire.

Chapter 31

Billy and the Whitcombs returned to New Canaan on Tuesday, the capital of reality. Chuck went back to work, Beth back to school, and Billy returned to his writing and babysitting duties.

Billy was juggling two articles. One was about a pumpkin patch near Waverly Park that was preparing for Halloween, only a month away. The other, back by popular demand, was the continuing saga of the girl quarterback at New Canaan High. It was the week of her first game, so Billy and Carolyn spent their afternoons hanging around at high school football practice.

It was the first time Billy had spent any significant time on a football field since he left college, and he was flooded with memories. As with most things in his life, they were mixed. He could still hear Coach Blake cursing encouragement his way. One of Coach’s favorite sayings was, “No pain no gain!” When Billy looked at Carolyn, who was tossing around a football with her non-sling arm, it put a whole new spin on the statement.

Billy was still surprised that the Whitcombs continued to entrust him with their daughter. He’d made a lot of deposits into the goodwill bank since his arrival, but knew when they learned the details of “the incident” there wouldn’t be enough overdraft protection on the planet to keep him from getting tossed out on his ass. Dana must not have told them. He didn’t know why, but in turn, he kept any discussions of black market baby sales to himself.

And while there was relief following the Carolyn diagnosis, it wasn’t all laughs and giggles. A strange vibe had been hovering since they returned. Hugs were tighter and “I love yous” more freely distributed. But at the same time, it was like nobody wanted to talk about the situation and they were internalizing it.

Then at Thursday night dinner, Carolyn reached her arm out toward Billy and ordered, “Squeeze my hand.”

When he applied light pressure on her hand, she screamed like she’d been shot. She then fell to the floor, writhing, and yelling, “Ouch! My hand! Oh my gosh, it hurts so bad!”

Bewildered looks shot toward her. When she was satisfied with the response, she let out a deep belly laugh. “Gotchya!”

Everybody lost it. Emotions drained in the form of both laughter and tears. Then for the first time, they really talked about the ordeal. And when they had fully digested what faced them, they were finally able to focus their thoughts toward the future, including Carolyn’s triumphant return to school, and whether she would be a firefighter or a hockey player for Halloween. She seemed to have lost interest in being a doctor.

On the first Monday in October, Carolyn Whitcomb returned to Little Brook Nursery School. Beth fussed over her like it was her true first day of school. She had bought her a new dress, but Carolyn was determined to show off her new Duke sweatshirt. Another point of contention was the sling Carolyn was forced to wear—since she felt no pain, she didn’t understand its value. After agreeing to hold off their mother/daughter fights until Carolyn was a teenager, Beth slipped the royal blue sweatshirt over her head and clipped a barrette to her un-cooperating hair. But before they could go, Chuck had to step in to end a hug after Carolyn flashed a petrified “Mom’s squishing the life out of me” look over Beth’s shoulder.

Billy drove her to school in the Cherokee. He had also gained permission to observe the class in preparation for his upcoming article. The article was not without controversy, but not from the school. The Yeas—Chuck, Billy, and Carolyn, had outvoted the Nays—Beth and Dr. Jordan. The Nays worried that publicity would attract the zealot groups Jordan warned of and Carolyn’s safety would be put at risk. The Yeas thought a story in the local paper would help educate the community on Carolyn’s situation, and put to rest any crazy rumors, including hurtful ones about self-mutilation. She could then assimilate into a “normal” life without feeling like a freak.

She looked like every other student, carrying her Elmo lunchbox in hand. Her
My Little Pony
backpack was strapped to her back, bouncing with each of her eager struts. As they neared the school’s front entrance, Carolyn turned to Billy and said, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I pretended to do the Dracula joke again and then did a ‘gotchya’ like the other night at dinner?”

“Carolyn?”

“Yes.”

“You have an amazing imagination and a great personality. But perhaps it might be a good idea to tone it down on your first day back.”

She shrugged. “It was just an idea.”

Ms. Stevens, who looked nothing like the troll-like teachers Billy had growing up in Johnstown, welcomed Carolyn back with open arms. So did the students—even the ones whose simple-minded parents tried to keep her from returning.

The only noticeable change in the classroom was that all students were given a water bottle at their workstations. This was to combat Carolyn’s overheating, and by giving one to each student, it provided a sense of normalcy for the entire class. Then at lunch, a teacher was assigned to test her food, to make sure it was cool enough for her to eat.

Recess was the biggest challenge. They had to find a balance between letting Carolyn bounce around like the fearless four-year-old she was, and protecting her. She was particularly upset that she wasn’t allowed on the monkey bars. After recess, she was escorted straight to the nurse’s office for a pit stop. Carolyn would have three scheduled trips to the nurse’s office each day.

On Friday, television cameras came to the school. A show called
Good Morning New York
was doing a feature on the painless girl. It was set up by Dana, as a way to promote Billy’s article, hoping the positive attention would help the sale of his book. It was supposed to be a feature story for the Saturday morning show that included an interview with Chuck and Beth. But it was cut down to thirty seconds and marginalized to a cutesy clip to end the show, bumped by wall-to-wall coverage of the still-simmering relations between the US and Iran over the hostages.

The article came out in the
Shoreline Times
on Sunday morning. Chuck read the article at the breakfast table.

Wouldn’t it be great if you couldn’t feel pain? No daily aches and pains. No headaches or stomachaches, and your head wouldn’t even sting when you eat ice cream too fast. If you think such a scenario is too good to be true, then you would be in agreement with Carolyn Whitcomb’s parents.

“I would give anything for my daughter to feel pain,” said Beth Whitcomb. What Mrs. Whitcomb is referring to is that her daughter has a genetic disorder called Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis, or CIPA for short. While it is estimated that over 50 million people suffer from chronic pain, Carolyn Whitcomb isn’t one of them. So why is this a bad thing…

That night was “movie night” in the Whitcomb house. Billy begged off, but Carolyn was resilient.

“I have to do some writing tonight, but thanks for the offer,” he tried to fight her off.

“If you had something better to do, then you’d be doing it, eh?” Chuck interjected.

Billy smiled. “Just because you have to spend your Sunday night watching
Beauty and the Beast
doesn’t mean you’re going to bring me down with you.”

“We’re gonna make popcorn,” Carolyn made a counter-offer.

“I don’t know,” Billy wavered, giving her the opening she sought.

“And chocolate covered raisins!”

“I…umm…”

“There’s gonna be lots of butter on the popcorn!”

He felt like the Washington Generals playing the Globetrotters. He was soon parked on the couch beside a bowl containing her fish, Puck, who according to Carolyn always attended movie night. As for the movie choice, Beth pushed for
Stuart Little
, but Carolyn again won out in the negotiations—
Slap Shot
it was.

She had memorized every line of the movie, and even put her hands over her ears in preparation for the “bad” words. She cheered the Hanson Brothers and Paul Newman’s character, Reggie Dunlop, at every opportunity. And she sang along to the theme song, Maxine Nightingale’s 1970s disco hit, “Get Back To Where We Started From.”

Billy and Carolyn swapped the popcorn and the candy raisins throughout the movie. Finally Beth scolded, “Carolyn—I told you no more. Don’t come crying to me when you get a stomachache.”

Nobody caught the comment at first. Chuck was the first to catch on and began to laugh, Billy followed. She couldn’t get a stomachache if she ate a bushel of popcorn!

As the room crackled with laughter, Billy felt like spring had arrived, de-thawing his winter ice. A girl who couldn’t feel pain had helped him to feel again.