Doctor Sleep (The Shining #2)(33)

In the end, the decision made itself; Dan simply could not let the guy go looking like that. He held his arms out. “Give it up.”

The fabled AA manhug. Dan had seen many but never given a single one. John looked dubious for a moment, then stepped forward. Dan drew him in, thinking There’ll probably be nothing.

But there was. It came as quickly as it had when, as a child, he had sometimes helped his mother and father find lost things.

“Listen to me, Doc,” he said, letting John go. “You were worried about the kid with Goocher’s.”

John stepped back. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not saying it right, I know that. Goocher’s? Glutcher’s? It’s some sort of bone thing.”

John’s mouth dropped open. “Are you talking about Norman Lloyd?”

“You tell me.”

“Normie’s got Gaucher’s disease. It’s a lipid disorder. Hereditary and very rare. Causes an enlarged spleen, neurologic disorders, and usually an early, unpleasant death. Poor kid’s basically got a glass skeleton, and he’ll probably die before he’s ten. But how do you know that? From his parents? The Lloyds live way the hell down in Nashua.”

“You were worried about talking to him—the terminal ones drive you crazy. That’s why you stopped in the Tigger bathroom to wash your hands even though your hands didn’t need washing. You took off your watch and put it up on the shelf where they keep that dark red disinfectant shit that comes in the plastic squeeze bottles. I don’t know the name.”

John D. was staring at him as though he had gone mad.

“Which hospital is this kid in?” Dan asked.

“Elliot. The time-frame’s about right, and I did stop in the bathroom near the Pedes nursing station to wash my hands.” He paused, frowning. “And yeah, I guess there are Milne characters on the walls in that one. But if I’d taken off my watch, I’d remem . . .” He trailed off.

“You do remember,” Dan said, and smiled. “Now you do. Don’t you?”

John said, “I checked the Elliot lost and found. Bridgton and CNH, too, for that matter. Nothing.”

“Okay, so maybe somebody came along, saw it, and stole it. If so, you’re shit out of luck . . . but at least you can tell your wife what happened. And why it happened. You were thinking about the kid, worrying about the kid, and you forgot to put your watch back on before you left the can. Simple as that. And hey, maybe it’s still there. That’s a high shelf, and hardly anybody uses what’s in those plastic bottles, because there’s a soap dispenser right beside the sink.”

“It’s Betadine on that shelf,” John said, “and up high so the kids can’t reach it. I never noticed. But . . . Dan, have you ever been in Elliot?”

This wasn’t a question he wanted to answer. “Just check the shelf, Doc. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

3

Dan arrived early at the following Thursday’s We Study Sobriety meeting. If Doctor John had decided to trash his marriage and possibly his career over a missing seven-hundred-dollar watch (alkies routinely trashed marriages and careers over far less), someone would have to make the coffee. But John was there. So was the watch.

This time it was John who initiated the manhug. An extremely hearty one. Dan almost expected to receive a pair of Gallic kisses on the cheeks before DJ let him go.

“It was right where you said it would be. Ten days, and still there. It’s like a miracle.”

“Nah,” Dan said. “Most people rarely look above their own eyeline. It’s a proven fact.”

“How did you know?”

Dan shook his head. “I can’t explain it. Sometimes I just do.”

“How can I thank you?”

This was the question Dan had been waiting and hoping for. “By working the Twelfth Step, dummocks.”

John D. raised his eyebrows.

“Anonymity. In words of one syllable, keep ya f**kin mouth shut.”

Understanding broke on John’s face. He grinned. “I can do that.”

“Good. Now make the coffee. I’ll put out the books.”

4

In most New England AA groups, anniversaries are called birthdays and celebrated with a cake and an after-meeting party. Shortly before Dan was due to celebrate his third year of sobriety in this fashion, David Stone and Abra’s great-grandmother came to see John Dalton—known in some circles as either Doctor John or DJ—and invite him to another third birthday party. This was the one the Stones were throwing for Abra.

“That’s very kind,” John said, “and I’ll be more than happy to drop by if I can. Only why do I feel there’s a little more to it?”

“Because there is,” Chetta said. “And Mr. Stubborn here has decided that it’s finally time to talk about it.”

“Is there a problem with Abra? If there is, fill me in. Based on her last checkup, she’s fine. Fearsomely bright. Social skills terrific. Verbal skills through the roof. Reading, ditto. Last time she was here she read me Alligators All Around. Probably rote memory, but still remarkable for a child who’s not yet three. Does Lucy know you’re here?”

“Lucy and Chetta are the ones who ganged up on me,” David said. “Lucy’s home with Abra, making cupcakes for the party. When I left, the kitchen looked like hell in a high wind.”