Sparring Partners

by Leigh Morgan

  When he closed the metal tabs, locking the papers inside, his hands were steady and strong.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Jordon showered in Henry's bathroom, he didn't want to risk a chance of waking Reed by using theirs. He brushed his teeth and quickly ran his hands through his ever lengthening hair. He really needed to get it trimmed, but since he stopped working at B.H., he hadn't been able to find the time. Jordon didn't bother shaving, why bother when he'd only have to do it again tonight before he headed toward the cottage, lest his mother think he'd become a Bohemian.

  Jordon began to push these random and seemingly inconsequential thoughts aside until he realized concerns over his mother's reaction to his rough stubble was his subconscious way of focusing on the trivial, so the complications of Irma's coma wouldn't crush him with their weight. Jordon laughed at himself. It wasn't a good sound, especially to his ears. The folly of understanding yourself one second, and having no-fucking-clue the next, struck him as funny and inextricably sad.

  Jordon dressed in jeans and one of the bamboo t-shirts Reed insisted he wear. That is, when she was talking to him and of the mindset to bring him gifts. It was conservative by Reed's standards, frog green, but no frogs or peace signs.

  That reminded him of the stuff he bought in Paris, which he packed away in Henry's closet. It didn't feel right handing out gifts now, especially ones that may be misconstrued as having been given only to avoid embarrassing Jordon's family.

  "Not the best way to start the day."

  "I've had better, myself." Henry said from the doorway.

  "I didn't hear you." That wasn't all that unusual. Henry had a way of turning silent and invisible when he wanted to. "How long have you been holding up the door?"

  "Long enough to see self-hatred flash across your face. That laugh sounded like it hurt."

  "It did."

  "So, how was Paris?"

  That was Henry's way of telling him he had eyes on him at all times. "Fine."

  "You shouldn't be carrying around a quarter of a million dollars in diamonds without an escort."

  "Give it up, Henry. You know that's exactly how it should be carried, unless it's sent in a plain cardboard box through the mail. I didn't have time to mail it. So what's the deal? You've got spies in Cartier now too?"

  Henry didn't respond. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the door. He pulled out the desk chair across from Jordon and sat with a fluid grace. He put his elbows on his knees and leaned in toward Jordon.

  "You seem to be taking this whole thing with Irma pretty hard."

  Jordon shrugged. He really didn't want to talk about this. He'd rather think about beard stubble.

  "You haven't known her all that long."

  Jordon stopped tying his shoe and glared at Henry. If Henry continued to explore this subject any further, Jordon was just tired and saddened enough to clock him.

  "Is there more to it than that?"

  "Irma's my friend, Henry. Let's leave it at that." Jordon said, surprising himself with the truth of his statement. Irma had become his friend in this very short time. Something no one other than Henry had managed to do in fifteen years. He cared about her more than he wanted to admit.

  Jordon wasn't quite sure what that said about him, but the sharp clenching in his chest as he surveyed the room and the grounds from Henry's window said volumes about Potters Woods. For better or worse, this place, these people, were under his skin. It didn't make him itch any more. In fact, he was beginning to like it, and that scared the hell out of him.

  "It's that and more. You know it. I know it." Henry said getting up. "You want me to come to the hospital with you?"

  "No. I'd like to go alone."

  Henry nodded and started to leave. Jordon stopped him at the door.

  "Henry, would you tell Reed when she wakes up that I'm sorry for not calling?"

  Henry's eyebrows shot up. "Want me to tell her anything else?"

  "Yeah." Jordon said standing. "Tell her I'll be home in time to take everyone to the cottage."

  ...

  Jordon expected to see Irma in her hospital room. What he didn't expect to see was Shannon O'Shay sitting beside her, reading out loud from one of the Dali Lama's many books. He heard the rich tones of Shay's baritone effusing the words with such a sense of peace and wellbeing that Jordon could be forgiven for thinking the rough man a spiritual leader.

  Shay must have sensed he was being watched because he suddenly looked up, piercing Jordon with his gaze, as he finished his sentence without looking at the words. Apparently there was more to Shannon O'Shay than mere bad-ass-fighting-machine. How much more, that was a question Jordon was curious to find out.

  "How is she? Any change?" Jordon asked.

  "I don't know. They won't tell me anything other than she's resting comfortably. Doc says he'll only talk to family and Irma doesn't have any family as far as I know."

  Jordon thought about that for a second and something inside of him snapped. He didn't understand why Irma chose him as power of attorney when she had Finn, Reed, and apparently Shannon O'Shay who knew her better and longer than he did. How sad she had no blood family anyone could trace. He didn't want to wind up lying in a hospital bed unconscious while someone he barely knew decided whether or not to pull the plug.

  "They didn't tell you anything?"

  "Not one damned thing other than they couldn't tell me one damned thing. It seems the only ones who get to know her condition have M.D. after their names, and they don't really seem to care that she has people who aren't related that care about her." Shay didn't raise his voice or change his tone, but the menace emanating from him was enough to tell Jordon how angry he was at being denied information.

  Jordon glanced at Irma but he didn't enter the room. She looked so small and fragile, covered up to her neck in white hospital blankets. He could barely discern her form under them. Hardly the formidable woman who scared fish and grown men with equanimity.

  He wanted that woman back, barking orders and telling him how to fix his messed up life.

  "I'll be right back." Jordon turned and headed for the nearest nurses station. There were three nurses conversing about one of their dates last night and the crappy Chinese food. None of them acknowledged him.

  "Excuse me."

  They continued to ignore him.

  He touched the closest one on the arm, drawing her attention. As soon as he had it he let go. "Ma'am, if you don't get Mrs. MacDonald's chart for me now, and I mean right now, you'll be calling the police as well as the doctor."

  The other two stopped talking about chow mein. One of them picked up the phone to call security. Jordon's gaze shot ice at her. "Finish that call and I guarantee this hospital will be flooded with a team of lawyers within the hour finding all kinds of reasons to shut you down."

  Jordon felt, more than heard, someone behind him. The stupid man stood within striking distance, and Jordon was in a striking state of mind.

  "May I help you?" The man asked, managing to sound condescending and officious at the same time.

  Jordon slowly turned, keeping one eye on the nurse with the phone. She must have gotten some kind of signal from the man behind him because she put the receiver back in its cradle. Jordon sneered at her, hoping he looked as nasty as he felt. Hospitals made him sick. Unfeeling hospital staff made him postal.

  Jordon pulled out a copy of the 'Durable Power of Attorney' as well as the 'Power of Attorney for Health Care' and handed them to the small man in white. Glasses, stethoscope, golf shirt and over priced tennis shoes. He wore his power like a he wore his uniform, badly.

  "I assume you have some form of I.D., Mr. Bennett?"

  Jordon pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and handed the arrogant bastard his driver's license. Jordon looked at the name embroidered in black script above the man's left pocket. Dr. J. Minorik.

  The doctor handed Jordon's license back. He had a small, officiously polite smile on his face when he
said, "You do seem to be Jordon Bennett --" he paused, and his slimy smile grew ever so slightly "– However, it will take some time to verify Mrs. MacDonald's signature."

  Jordon smiled back and took out his cell phone, flipping it open in one graceful move.

  "You can't use that in here." The doctor said, losing the smile.

  Jordon's smile widened as he held up one hand to the doctor and hit speed dial. "This will only take a second." His smile turned to a full grin when his call was picked up on the second ring.

  "Hey Anderson, it's Jordon. Do you think you could get a full crew here? I've got a great story for you. I'll even do that interview you've been hounding me for."

  Jordon listened, nodded a few times.

  "Milwaukee. Just south of there actually. A small town called Burlington. Whole place smells like chocolate, except the hospital. It reeks of old Pine-Sol, and well, you might want to investigate that too. Yeah...I'll fill you in on the rest."

  Jordon looked at his watch. "See you in two. Thanks, Coop."

  Jordon clicked off. "CNN will be here in a couple of hours, Minorik. I'll make sure they spell your name correctly."

  Jordon shoved the phone into his pocket and turned to go back to Irma's room. He was lucky he found Anderson in the states. Perhaps he'd invite him to the cottage for dinner. Maybe even score a few points with Reed. Jordon found himself whistling back to the room.

  "So, did you have to call out the infantry, or did that asshole tell you what's going on with Irma?"

  "I imagine the asshole will be slinking along any time now."

  Jordon was wrong. The next white coat through the door was older, taller and had better shoes. Since he was carrying a medical chart with I. MacDonald printed on the spine next to Irma's room number, Jordon let him stay.

  In an unexpected show of support, Shay got up and crossed the room to stand next to Jordon, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Jordon smiled at the effect. Shay's biceps, corded with muscle and sinew, strained against his short sleeved t-shirt. He widened his stance almost imperceptibly. There was no mistaking Shay's sheer animal strength, and Jordon was happy to have him by his side.

  Jordon had to give the doctor credit for taking a step forward in spite of the physical threat he and Shay presented, and were doing their damnedest to project. He didn't offer his hand. If he had, Jordon wasn't sure good manners and years of negotiating with people he didn't particularly like could have made him take it. Lily Bennett's son just wasn't that polite.

  "I'm Jim Hooper, Hospital Administrator. I've known Irma a long time. I don't need to verify her signature. Sean Govern, her attorney, is a friend of mine as well. I'm the one who sent Irma to get these POA's. I apologize for Dr. Minorik. He's an obnoxious pain-in-the-ass, but he's good at what he does so I keep him around."

  Shay dropped his arms.

  Jordon lowered his shoulders and held out his hand. "Apology accepted. Jordon Bennett." Jordon shook the doctor's hand and introduced Shay.

  "This is Irma's friend –" Jordon glanced over at Shay briefly then back at Dr. Hooper. "– and mine, Shannon O'Shay." Shay shook Hooper's hand while giving the man a nod. Introductions given, and apology accepted, Jordon cut to the chase.

  "What's Irma's status?"

  Jim Hooper pulled a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and opened Irma's chart. Jordon got the sense that Hooper didn't really need to consult the chart to know Irma's prognosis. He seemed to be looking for some magic elixir there that might jump out at him and provide the answers Jordon and Shay wanted to hear.

  He closed the chart and slowly put his glasses back into his pocket.

  "The truth is we don't know why Irma slipped into a coma." He set Irma's chart on the table by her bed and folded his hands in front of him.

  "This is her third bout with cancer. She fought it off the first two times and she may fight it off for awhile this time. But that's all it'll be. She may go into remission, but the cancer will take her. Sooner, rather than later. As for the coma...we don't know much to be honest. She could come out of it anytime. Or...she could give up the fight and go in her sleep. That might be more merciful. She's been in a great deal of pain."

  Jordon's stomach clenched and twisted with the force of a vise grip stripping steel. The thought of Irma in pain had him almost wishing she wouldn't wake up, but he wasn't ready to let go yet, no matter how selfish he knew he was being.

  "Irma's not one to go silently into that dark night, doc." Shay said.

  Hooper smiled and nodded, his eyes kind. "You're probably right Mr. O'Shay. We'll just have to wait and see."

  Jordon's hands fisted at his sides. Waiting and seeing were two things he was just no good at.

  Doctor Hooper seemed to read the energy in the room and know both men needed to be alone. He picked up Irma's chart and headed toward the door. He stopped when he reached it and turned to Jordon questioningly. "Were you really going to sick Anderson Cooper on us?"

  Jordon didn't smile exactly, but his lips curled a bit. "Yep."

  Hooper turned with a twinkle in his eye. "Good for you, son. Good for you. I'll be sure to let Minorik know to keep what little hair he has left combed. Just in case."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Jordon replayed the conversation he had with Shay in Irma's hospital room over again, wondering what made him offer employment and what made Shay immediately accept.

  What do you do for a living, Shay?

  I work for Briggs. Short for Briggs and Stratton, an engine manufacturer in Milwaukee.

  What do you do?

  I build prototype engines for small machines.

  Like lawn mowers?

  Shay laughed. No. Like go-carts. Very fast go-carts.

  You make a good living building racing go-carts?

  Enough to eat steak when I want. Shay shrugged and smiled. I just past twenty years last month. I can retire anytime now, but I'm having fun and the economy sucks, so I guess I'll stay.

  Jordon didn't know why he said what he said next except that he trusted Shay and it felt good to have him at his back with the doctor, even though it wasn't necessary. It just felt right.

  Do you want to come work for me?

  Doing what?

  Security. You'd be helping Henry with surveillance, but for the most part you'd be attached to me.

  Don't you already have people for that?

  I do. But there's no one besides Henry I'd rather have with me and the people at Potters Woods.

  When do I start?

  Jordon wasn't quite sure what made Shay agree, when they hadn't even discussed pay or hours or work load. He had a feeling it was Potters Woods and it's residents that Shay was interested in looking out for more than Jordon's hide, but that was okay. If their positions were reversed Jordon would have felt the same.

  ...

  Finn managed to hide in her workshop when she wasn't helping Charlie with screening volunteers from their day program for roles in his fall production of A Midsummer's Night Dream. She didn't know how they were going to pull off this particular play given the average age of the people trying out, but some of the auditions surprised her. More life equated to a greater range of talent than she expected. Even Peter agreed to play a role, as long as Charlie didn't try to usurp his painting time for play practice.

  For the first few days that she spent forging a new statue, Finn kidded herself that she was simply creating art, while her muse danced beside her.

  After five days, her muse began to take a familiar shape.

  Finn cut the fuel to her torch, pulled off her welder's helmet and wiped the sweat away from her forehead with the back of a dirt stained glove before it rolled into her eyes. Methodically, she put away her equipment, avoiding her newest creation until there was nothing left to lift, clean or put away. Tightening the straps on her denim overalls as she went, Finn crossed to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of iced tea. Closing the refrigerator door, she turned around and leaned against it as she
slowly sipped the tea.

  She'd worked pretty much non-stop for five days and she'd come up with a four foot miniature of Henry wearing fairy ivy. Only enough to cover what she knew firsthand was as big as one might expect from the rest of him.

  The full-sized version chose that moment to push through her door. Today was the first time in five days she hadn't locked it. Five long days since he'd retreated to the house to sleep and nap and whatever else he did without her.

  Five days since she'd seen him naked.

  Henry shut the door, spotted her newest masterpiece and stopped cold. His eyes flashed to Finn, to her statue, and back to Finn. She stayed where she was while taking another sip of tea.

  "What the hell is that?"

  "A garden nymph. How much do you think I can get for him?"

  "What's scrap metal worth?"

  Finn set her glass on the counter and took a few steps closer to him. She stopped just out of reach and eyed mini Henry in plant drag. It really was a remarkable likeness. She hadn't started out with a definite plan of what to create, she just worked and this is what came out.

  "You're right. I probably shouldn't sell him. Not with that lecherous grin on his face. I've got just the spot for him. Right out front, in the flower bed by the mail box. That way everyone who comes here can enjoy him."

  "That's practically indecent. His entire ass is hanging out in the wind and those leafy things are barely covering his...his..."

  Finn smiled warmly, slowly curling her lips into a wide, open grin enjoying Henry's temporary lack of vocabulary and wild gesturing.

  "Nether regions?" She suggested.

  "Cock." He said at the same time.

  "I'm not sure that nymphs have 'cocks'. I think what he had, perfectly covered in ivy by the way, not leaves, is better described as his –"

  "Watch it –"

  "Brain."