“Hello.”
“Where are you?” Cardinal Espinosa barked.
“Headed north, out of Connecticut,” Maury answered.
“They may be heading to Canada. Stay on a direct path to the border. Contact me once you near the crossing. I will ascertain that they have crossed the border.”
“Yes sir.” He hesitated, then added, “Sir?”
“What?”
“What about Benicio?”
“He no longer serves the best interest of the faith. He stands in the way of your freedom and the continued health of the church. You may deal with him accordingly.”
Maury was surprised. Benicio was a highly trusted agent. “Should we speak to him first? Do you want us to find out his intentions?”
“I don't wish him to further complicate the directives of the church, but if he will cooperate then so be it.” Cardinal Espinosa hung up.
Maury listened to the dead line for a moment then pushed the off button. He tossed the phone into the back.
“What's up?” Jeremy asked, grinning. “Wrong number?”
“We're supposed to head to Canada.”
“And?”
“And I doubt we'll be bringing Father Valori back.”
Jeremy's smirk faded but he nodded in resignation. They followed orders. That's all they did.
The Izaak Walton Killam Children's Hospital strategic plan included Saturday appointments â Jake had heard something about a commitment to reduce wait times and increase sensitivity to consumers. The strategic plan didn't make it any easier to be sitting in a pediatric neurologist's office on a Saturday morning.
“Thanks for seeing us today, Dr. Merrot,” Abby said as she took a seat.
Jake sat next to her, and they both looked across a wide desk at the gray-haired doctor. His round features and the reading glasses perched at the end of his nose gave him a slightly comical appearance, as if he were a caricature of the aging country doctor.
“Not at all,” Dr. Merrot said, his expression serious.
“So?” Abby asked. She wanted to get straight to business.
“And where is young master Wyatt today?”
“He's at home with his sister,” Jake said. “We got a babysitter.”
Dr. Merrot nodded. “Fine, fine.”
“The tests?” Abby prompted. “What'd you find out?”
The doctor frowned. Jake felt as if he had a knife in his heart. He held his breath.
“Well, Wyatt's going to need surgery,” Dr. Merrot said. “There's no easy way to tell you. We're going to need to do a little investigating.”
“Investigating what?” Abby asked. Her voice trembled, and Jake could hear the panic sneaking in. He put an arm across her shoulders.
“There's no reason to think Wyatt isn't going to pull through everything and be fine, so let's stay positive,” Dr. Merrot said,
and offered them a weak smile.
Jake knew the worse the news the more preparation there was. He wished the doctor would blurt it out.
“Wyatt has a tumor. We aren't entirely sure about the size or the kind. It was difficult to find on the ct scan.”
“A tumor,” Abby whispered.
Jake gave her a little squeeze.
Tumor
was one of the words they didn't want to hear. He bit his lip; he didn't want to get emotional. He knew if he let Abby see him cry he would be useless to her.
“Yes, but that doesn't mean a whole lot just yet,” Dr. Merrot added quickly. “We need to take a biopsy and have a better look at its exact location.”
“What did you mean it was tricky to find?” Jake asked.
Dr. Merrot took a deep breath. “Well, not all tumors are encapsulated. Sometimes they branch out slightly and so aren't as easy to detect. Wyatt's tumor was spread thinly enough that it was difficult to find.”
“Will that make it more difficult to remove?” Abby asked quietly. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Dr. Merrot nodded. “There is that chance. With tumors that branch it is sometimes more difficult.”
“What's the next step?” Jake asked. He wanted to keep the conversation moving forward so they could stay focused on action.
The doctor leaned his elbows on the desk. “We'd like to admit him as soon as possible. That will give us first crack at the next operating suite. We're going to make Wyatt one of the hospital's top priorities.”
In all likelihood, every doctor at the children's hospital said this to every parent, but it still made Jake feel a little better. He wanted to think there was a team of doctors devoted to Wyatt, working around the clock to make him better.
“You mean today?” Abby asked. “Should we bring him down today?”
“Tomorrow would be fine,” Dr. Merrot said.
“How long will he be here?”
“I really can't say. You should probably plan on at least all of next week. Possibly longer.”
The room was silent for a moment. The news was a weight that sank through Jake and kept pulling him further and further down. He was afraid to look at Abby. His eyes filled with tears as images of Wyatt played in his mind. Images of his son laughing and playing with his big sister. Images of him sitting on the couch playing video games.
“What are the risks?” Abby asked.
“There's the normal risks associated with this type of surgery. Whenever you are dealing with the brain there are serious risks.”
“Brain damage? Death?” Abby asked. Panic was creeping into her voice. “Could he die?”
Dr. Merrot's expression didn't change. “Little Wyatt's sick,” he said calmly. “We'll need to do some surgery to help the guy get better. I'm afraid there aren't any other options.”
Abby nodded, sniffed, and blew her nose.
“As you leave you can register Wyatt for his stay. That will make it quicker when you come tomorrow,” Dr. Merrot added. “The nursing station is just down the hall, and the nurses can help you. When you come tomorrow I hope to have a surgery time arranged. They'll know at the desk.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Jake said. “Thanks for everything.” He stood and looked at his wife.
Abby also rose, and they left Dr. Merrot's office.
Benicio stood beside the car and watched the traffic moving through the customs booths. There was a steady lineup of cars going in and out of Canada.
He'd driven through the night, stopping only for gas, the washroom, and snacks. Matthew had had only a bag of Doritos and a small carton of chocolate milk. The rest of the time the boy slept.
Benicio wasn't sure how they would get across the border; if the customs official asked for identification, he and Matthew would be detained.
They probably don't even allow rental cars across the border without some special permit. They'll probably stop us and search the vehicle
.
Then Benicio noticed a lane dedicated to truckers, extra-wide and almost hidden by a parade of semitrailers. It gave him an idea. Not necessarily a good idea, but an idea nonetheless.
He turned to the car, opened the passenger door and crouched down.
“Hey,” he said quietly, “do you want to get out for a bit? Stretch your legs or go for a bathroom break?”
Matthew didn't answer.
Benicio looked around. They were at the far end of the parking lot near the duty-free shop. The last chance to buy before crossing the border. He didn't want people watching when he tried to deal with Matthew.
“Do you want to get out for a bit?” he asked again.
Matthew turned stiffly and swung his legs out of the car. Benicio backed away to give him room, and the boy stood on the pavement.
“There you go,” Benicio said warmly. “That must feel better.”
Matthew began walking toward the front of the vehicle.
“Do you want to use the washroom?” Benicio asked.
Matthew stopped in front of the car and undid his pants. He began urinating on the ground.
“Whoa,” Benicio called. “
Che fai
? What are you doing?”
A motor home pulled up near them, and a middle-aged man poked his head out the driver's window. “Hey buddy, do you know a good place â” He stopped abruptly when he noticed Matthew. “Is that kid taking a leak right there?”
“I'm sorry. He's a little different.”
“I'd say he's a lot different,” the man said. “That boy's too old to be pissin' out here when the facility is just right on over there.”
“My apologies. My son is autistic.”
The man didn't have a response to this. From somewhere inside the motor home, a voice yelled, “Leave the poor man alone and let's get going!”
The motor home driver gave Matthew a disapproving frown, and the big vehicle drove away.
Matthew was doing up his pants. Benicio ran a hand through his hair.
I need to find a phone
, he thought.
Time to call Jake
.
Jake paid Becky, a shy fifteen year old and one of their best babysitters. She lived only a few doors down the street. Wyatt and Emily always reported having a wonderful time with her.
On the way home from the hospital, Jake and Abby agreed to be strong for the sake of the kids. It wasn't fair to allow grown-up concerns to filter down to them.
But everything went out the window when Wyatt ran up to his mother. Abby scooped him up for a hug then started crying. Jake immediately sent Abby upstairs to collect herself, then dealt with the sitter.
Becky was a bright kid. She knew enough not to ask how the visit to the hospital had gone. She thanked Jake for her babysitting money and left.
Jake closed the door behind her then walked into the living room. Emily was sitting on the couch reading.
“Where's Wyatt gone?” Jake asked.
“To his room. Playing video games, I think.”
“How're you doing?”
“Good. What's wrong with Mom?”
“Mom's okay. It's just tough sometimes.”
“What happened at the hospital? What's wrong with Wyatt?”
“Oh, just some routine stuff. Some more tests and things. Wyatt'll have to stay at the hospital for a bit. Nothing for you to worry about.” Jake wondered how much he should tell a seven year old. Emily was perceptive beyond her years, but it wasn't just a matter of understanding; it was a matter of carrying a burden. A seven year old shouldn't have to contemplate losing her little brother.
“He's going into hospital?”
“Yep, but don't worry about it. Everything is going to be fine.”
She made a funny face. “You're the one who keeps saying I'm worried. That makes me more worried than anything.”
Jake grinned.
She's so smart
. “Are you being sassy with me?” he asked in mock anger. “Do you want to suffer the wrath of the tickle monster?”
Her face lit up. Jake hunched over, wiggled his fingers menacingly, and moved close to her.
“Dad!” she screamed. “No!”
Jake kept wiggling his fingers. “I can't stop it!”
Emily dropped her book and jumped to her feet. “No!” she pleaded, laughing.
Jake lunged at her. “Must ⦠tickle ⦠sassy ⦠girl.”
She ducked away and ran behind the couch. “Help!” she yelled.
Jake took a step toward her, and Wyatt came flying into the room. He had a sixth sense for commotion.
“I've got him!” Wyatt yelled and tackled one of Jake's legs.
“Noooo!” Jake screamed, pretending to be in pain. “You've got me!”
Emily ran over and pushed at Jake until he fell onto the couch. Both kids jumped on top of him, trying to pin him down while avoiding his writhing fingers.
“You can't stop me,” Jake hissed through clenched teeth. “I will have my revenge on you.”
“No you won't, butthead,” Wyatt answered as he wrestled with one arm.
Jake stopped fighting and became serious. “Wyatt, buddy?”
Emily sensed the change of tone and stopped struggling.
Wyatt's eyes met Jake's.
“Wyatt,” Jake started again, “what did we say about calling people butthead?”
“Not to.”
“Right. You're saying that way too much. Can you please
stop?” Butthead had become one of Wyatt's favorite words. Abby and Jake still hadn't figured out where the boy had picked the word up.
“Yes,” Wyatt said reluctantly.
Jake noticed that Abby had come out of the bedroom upstairs and was standing on the staircase watching them.
“Thanks, buddy,” Jake said. Then he smiled broadly. “Now you two stop being such
buttheads
or I'm going to have to really get you.”
Emily gasped then laughed. Wyatt squealed, and the fight was on again.
Over the din of Jake and kids the phone started to ring. Abby went in and grabbed the phone in the kitchen, and a few seconds later held the receiver out to Jake.
“Jake,” she called urgently. “It's Benicio!”
He frowned. When they'd talked a few weeks ago, Ben was headed to Cambodia. He never called when he was on one of his exotic assignments. Jake took the phone.
“Kids, let Dad talk on the phone now,” Abby said. “It's Uncle Ben, and I think it's long distance.”
“Hey, Ben!” Jake said.
“Hi, Uncle Ben!” Wyatt and Emily screamed.
Benicio laughed. “Say hi to the kids for me. How are you doing, Jake?”
“I'm okay.”
“How's Wyatt?”
Jake paused. “Probably should talk about that later. Abby and I just got back from the hospital. Wyatt has to be admitted tomorrow.”
“
Sono spiacente
. I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do to help you just name it.”
“Thanks buddy. We'll get through it. So what's going on? I thought you were in Cambodia?”
“I was but I'm back. I'm actually just at the border going into New Brunswick.”
“You're kidding. Are you headed this way?”
“Jake,” Benicio said, “I think I'm in trouble. I may need your help.”