by E A Comiskey
“Left in this state, he will die sooner rather than later. It’s unnatural for light to exist without darkness outside of Heaven itself,” Michael confirmed.
Richard had mused a thousand times about Stanley being unnatural, but this was an entirely different can of worms. “What do we need to do?”
Michael held out a hand as if asking what they expected. “I should think it would be obvious.”
“We need to reattach his shadow,” Burke said.
Michael nodded, then asked, “So, did either of you carry it out?”
“His shadow?” Richard asked. “How in tarnation do you carry a shadow?”
Michael shrugged. “I’ve never done it, myself.”
“I’m afraid we were in a bit of a hurry to get away from the bomb you set,” Burke said.
“Well then, I’m sorry, but your friend is going to die. His sacrifice will not go unremembered.”
Burke lunged across the crowded space and half lifted the little man out of his chair. “You listen to me, leprechaun. I have been to hell and back in the past two days, and Stan Kapcheck just saved my ass. If I’m not mistaken, he saved yours, too, though I can’t imagine why he’d work with a piece of monster scuz like you.” She gave him a shake. “The very fact that he didn’t drive an iron stake through your skull the moment he saw you means you owe him a life debt.”
Richard realized his mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. A leprechaun? Huh. Well, that explained the rainbow.
Michael tilted his head, the twinkle never leaving his eye. “You do have a fire in your belly, don’t you?”
Burke pulled him an inch closer.
“I can’t make promises. You saw the explosion. There’s nothing left of that place but the dust that’s settling into the lake. I’ll make a call, though, if you’d be so kind as to release me.”
She dropped him and sank back into her seat.
“You are very strong,” Stanley commented.
Michael turned toward the window. After gazing outward for a few moments, he pressed his palm against the glass. The shimmering arc of a rainbow shot northward across the sky. “If they can locate his shadow and capture it, we can try to reattach it.”
“Don’t bother, dear one,” Stanley said. “I’m just fine the way I am. I feel fantastic. Light as air. Light as light itself.”
Richard didn’t know if he was imagining things or not, but Stanley looked light as air, as though he were already losing form and changing into nothing more than a gathering of light particles.
Burke crossed her arms and stared out into the purplish sky. She began to shiver and hugged herself tighter. When a stifled sob reached his ears, Richard reached for her knee. She didn’t say anything or even look at him, but she latched onto his fingers so tightly he thought they might break. He uttered no complaint, but returned her grip.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Burke
Neither one of them knew what to do with Stanley. It didn’t seem wise to leave him alone. On the other hand, they agreed that taking him into Maddie’s hospital room, when God only knew what shape she was in, was a terrible idea. At last, they resolved to bring him to the hospital and leave him in the waiting room, hoping he’d stay put and delight over whatever ancient edition of Reader’s Digest happened to be lying about.
Thankfully, a better solution presented itself. As they exited the elevator onto Maddie’s floor, they bumped into Luke Castleberry. Burke had been pleasantly surprised by her own reaction to Luke’s presence in her mother’s life. The idea of her mother being with anyone other than her father was strange, for sure, but somehow comforting, as well. It didn’t feel like a betrayal, more like a new chapter. And who was Burke to do anything but celebrate someone beginning a beautiful new chapter?
Luke greeted the three hunters with his usual enthusiasm and informed them that Maddie was sleeping, but had been awake and alert and in full command of her faculties all morning.
“How long have you been here?” Burke asked.
Luke’s brow furrowed. “Well, I came right after the... When I heard that... I...”
“Do you remember what happened to Madeline?” Richard asked.
“Of course, the doctor said she had a mini-stroke.”
“But do you remember it happening?”
Luke scratched the stubble on his cheek while he thought. Burke couldn’t remember the man ever having stubble before and guessed he’d spent the night at the hospital, but his memories of the whole affair were as vague and befuddled as everyone else’s, thanks to the work of Michael’s little clean-up crew.
She put a hand on his arm. “Mr. Castleberry, you’ve done so much already. I hate to impose, but I wonder if I couldn’t ask just one tiny favor? Could you stay with our friend, Stanley? He’s a little out of sorts himself, kind of confused from all the excitement, sort of in denial or something, and we don’t want to leave him alone, but Mom—”
“Of course, of course!” Luke agreed with his usual gleeful enthusiasm. He held out a hand. “It’s very nice to see you again, Stanley.”
Stanley grinned like an idiot and shook the man’s hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Luke. Truly. I tell you, I have never felt better. Everything is so beautiful. Everything!” He leaned in close. “Have you ever felt that way?”
Luke nodded. “I absolutely have. I think I spotted some Earl Grey in the lounge. Join me for a cup?”
“What a good man you are,” Stanley gushed.
Luke led him off with a wink in their direction, leaving them to find Maddie’s room.
The sight of her mother lying in a hospital bed, wires creeping out from under the blankets, tying her to a series of machines that flashed and beeped, caused Burke’s heart to constrict painfully.
Burke was old enough to be a grandmother. She could still feel her mother’s cooling hand on her feverish forehead, her steady reassurance in the moments when fear held Burke in its devilish grip.
No matter that she could be a pain in the neck. She was Burke’s pain in the neck—one of three, none of whom she’d trade for the world.
Burke brushed past her grandfather and sat on the bedside. They’d stopped at home to wash up and change before coming to the hospital. Showing up at Maddie’s bedside covered in blood and soot was bound to provoke questions they had no idea how to answer.
Maddie’s eyes fluttered and opened, focusing instantly on her daughter. She blinked away the sleep. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” Burke asked.
“I hate for you to see me this way. I’m getting old, I guess. They said I might have had some kind of mini-stroke or something, that I was lucky you found me right away and got me to the hospital. What a way to ruin Thanksgiving dinner after you came all this way to see me.”
Burke brushed a stray hair from her mother’s forehead. “Is that how you remember it? That you...” She trailed off and glanced at Richard for a split second before refocusing on her mother. “The last thing you remember is Thanksgiving Dinner?”
Maddie scowled.
Burke suppressed a grin. Maddie looked like a carbon copy of her mother most of the time, but she’d inherited her daddy’s fine scowl.
“I remember you came for Thanksgiving and I invited Luke and...” a blush crept into her pale cheeks. “I confess, I tried to play matchmaker. I invited a man I met recently. I thought he might be interested in you, but...”
Burke swallowed the lump in her throat. Richard had filled her in on Albert’s demise. “But what?”
“I guess he’ll think I tricked him or something. He probably knocked on the door and got no answer and thought I was the meanest old lady in the world. I don’t even have a way to call him. I’ll just die of embarrassment if I see him again.”
“Forget him,” Burke said. “I have a feeling you’ll never see him again. Plus, you know, I’ve been thinking, Mom, you’re always trying so hard to match me up with someone and make sure I’m happy but, truth is, honest-to-God, I am
happy. I wasn’t. I was lonely and lost and drifting, but it’s different now. Traveling with Grandpa and Stanley is an adventure. I sort of love my life right now.” She turned toward Richard and smiled. “Even if I forget that sometimes.”
Maddie patted her daughter’s knee. “I know. I’ll try to be less meddlesome.”
Burke raised an eyebrow at her mother. “I bet I know what would help. What if you spent some time totally indulging in your own happiness?”
Richard shuffled across the ugly green tile and lowered himself into an ugly green vinyl chair. Did hospitals think that, by making everything the color of puke, people would somehow feel healthier? Odd logic, to say the least.
“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” Maddie said.
“You ought to begin with Luke Castleberry.” Burke pointed out the enormous bouquet of yellow, white and pink flowers on the windowsill. “The man is nuts about you, Mom, and he’s a good man. You’ve never been one to spend your days alone. Why not give him a chance?”
Richard muttered an agreement and Maddie stared at him like he’d grown a third eye.
“He’s been here since you first woke up, hasn’t he?” Richard asked.
“Well, yes,” she admitted. The red in her cheeks turned a shade darker.
“All right, Mom,” Burke said, fussing with the blankets and pillow cases in the way that women did. “We didn’t come here to embarrass you, but I’ll stand by what I said. I miss Dad. You’ll never, ever replace him. He was the best, but he’s gone. You still have life left. You and I, we’re different. But that’s okay.”
A tear rolled down Maddie’s cheek. “I love you, Burke Dakota.”
“I love you, too.” Burke leaned down and kissed her mother. “We’re going to let you rest for a bit. We’ll check on you again soon, okay?”
“I am a little tired,” Maddie admitted.
They relieved Luke from Stanley-sitting and thanked him again for staying with Maddie. On the way home, Stanley prattled on and on about how much he loved the softness of the late autumn sunshine and how his very body felt at one with the universe but when Burke glanced in the review mirror, her blood turned cold. The vague outline of the world behind Stan was visible through his opaque form.
They arrived back at Maddie’s house and went inside. Michael sat at the kitchen table reading Madeline’s Good Housekeeping magazine and drinking a cup of coffee so strong it resembled swamp mud in both color and consistency. A glass jar with a two-piece lid, just like the ones Burke’s mother used to use for canning, rested on the table next to him with something like a swirling blob of ink rolling around inside.
“My people found Stanley’s shadow,” he said. He took a moment to study Stanley. “And not a moment too soon, it would appear.”
Burke’s knees went weak at the pronouncement. She sank into one of the kitchen chairs.
“You can fix him?” Richard asked.
“Sure.”
Burke twisted her hands together. “What’s the catch?”
Michael’s gaze moved to where Stanley stood examining an oil on canvass of a red-breasted robin. “Are you sure he wants to be fixed?”
“What kind of stupid question is that?” Richard asked.
“He looks quite content,” Michael pointed out.
“He’s dying,” Burke said.
“We’re all dying,” Michael replied. “I believe Stanley pointed out that very fact to me. And at least he’s happy. Reattaching his shadow is going to give him back his darkness, all of his pain, every bit of sadness and anger, hatred, regret. A shadow is heavier baggage than people realize.”
Burke watched Stanley trace the bird’s little, dark brown feather with his fingertip. “But it’s what makes us human,” she finally said. If she’d learned any lesson from the last few days, it was not to underestimate or undervalue the glory of humanity in all its flawed ugliness. “Stanley has spent his whole life fighting against those things that are harmful to humanity because he loves being human so much. What he is now is...well...it’s unnatural.”
Richard made a sound like he was choking and averted his eyes.
“He needs to be himself again,” Burke said. “Even if it hurts. That’s what he would want.”
Richard agreed.
Michael finished his coffee and said, “Hey, there, Stanley. Why don’t you come sit down over here with us? There’s something we need to do.”
Stanley traipsed across the room and plopped down in the chair, as happy and innocent as a child.
Burke stood up and kissed his shiny bald head. “I love you, Stanley Kapcheck.”
He grinned at her. “And I love you. And you, too”—he patted Richard’s shoulder—”even if you are a grouchy old coot.”
“Unnatural,” Richard muttered.
Michael asked Richard to tie Stanley to the chair, binding his shoulders all the way down to his waist. Burke secured his ankles to the chair legs. Stanley told them how proud he was that they’d learned the hunter’s craft so well and, with fat tears rolling down his cheeks, explained that he didn’t feel their efforts were necessary.
Burke might have given into Stanley’s gentle-hearted resistance had she not been able to see a ghostly version of the kitchen wall right through Stanley’s fading form. “I’m sorry we have to do this.”
“You don’t have to. There’s always a choice,” Stanley said.
Richard squeezed Stanley’s shoulder. “No. This ain’t you. Not really. And it ain’t my place to make such a choice for you. We gotta bring you back.”
Stanley offered him a brave smile.
Richard straightened and joined Burke, who stood stiff-backed against the wall on the opposite side of the kitchen. He’d already told her she didn’t have to stay and witness whatever was about to happen, and she’d threatened to knock him on his bony butt if he dared make such a suggestion again. So, they stood side-by-side as the leprechaun opened the jar, caught the escaping shadow in his left hand and set to reattaching it in a series of pops and flashes that made it mercifully difficult to see exactly what he was doing.
They heard it, though. They heard Stanley Kapcheck, the bravest man either of them had ever known, shrieking as if his feet were being held to a fire. For all they knew, that’s exactly what was happening.
Finally, Michael backed away and wiped sweat from his brow. “Well, it didn’t kill him.”
Stanley sobbed like a baby under the glow of the kitchen light. His body, giving every appearance of being as solid as a body should be, trembled. Beneath the chair and slightly to the left, his shadow stretched across the floor.
Burke knelt down before him and cut the ropes that held him. He collapsed into her arms and she sat on the floor and rocked him like a baby.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Richard
Maddie insisted she didn’t want any fuss, but she put up no real resistance when Richard walked her into the house with one arm firmly around her waist. Nor did she make any attempt to stop Burke from brewing up a batch of rich hot cocoa complete with whipped cream and a maraschino cherry. Luke Castleberry carried in armfuls of flowers from the hospital, plus a few new bouquets Richard hadn’t noticed before. Stanley followed behind, leaning heavily on his cane, closing doors, turning on lights, adjusting the temperature in the house. Once Richard had deposited her on the sofa and lifted her legs up onto the cushion, Stanley covered her with the quilt Barbara’s mother had made and tucked the edges around her stockinged feet.
Dark circles sagged under Stanley’s eyes. His smile flashed as quickly as ever, but it didn’t linger quite as long. When Richard begged for the chance to explain why he’d opted to allow Stanley’s suffering, Stanley silenced him. “Ask any athlete. If you stop lifting weights for a while, starting again is a difficult adjustment. In the end, though, you are stronger than ever.”
So many responses came to mind after that, Richard couldn’t manage to get a single one up to the front of his brain and past his tongue. Bring
ing it up a second time seemed more awkward than pretending that everything was okay, but even a blind man could see that Stanley... Well...to be frank, he’d started looking just a bit like the old man he was. And after months of wishing for exactly that, Richard found himself caught in the old adage about greener grass. He worried about Stanley and hoped time would bring healing, but he doubted such a wound ever really healed completely.
“I’m going to run home,” Luke said. “Just for a few minutes. I have some soup ready. I just need to bring it back and warm it on the stove and dinner will be ready.”
Maddie smiled. “You’ve been too good to me, Luke.”
“You deserve the best,” he said, his eyes lingering on her long enough to speak volumes beyond the simple words.
When the door closed behind him, Burke curled up on the floor next to the couch with one elbow propped beside her mother’s hip. “Mom, I know you said it was fine for us to leave tomorrow and go to that Texas convention we told you about, but, really, we don’t have to go. There will be other conventions.”
An endless stream of them, Richard thought, but held his silence and settled into one of Maddie’s ridiculous chairs.
“I’ll be fine,” Maddie said for the gazillionth time.
“Maybe just one more week,” Burke began, but Maddie was already shaking her head.
Stanley carefully lowered himself into the other chair. “Madeline, dear. I don’t mean to pry, but, if I’m to be honest, I get the feeling perhaps your daughter and your father aren’t getting the full picture. They’re operating under the assumption that you’ll be home alone.”
Richard scratched his scalp beneath the fluff that passed for his hair these days.
“Well, I will be living alone, of course,” Maddie said, focused quite intently on her hands, which lay folded across her middle.
Burke prodded her and she gave up with a sigh. “Well, Luke and I...we’ve agreed to...you know...”
They all waited in silence to find out what it was she thought they knew.
