Long Way Home(38)

“Have fun, you two!”

Fun? In a hospital? Joe revved the engine and we roared off. My ears were ringing by the time we boarded the ferry to cross the river. For most of the way, I had rested my forehead against Joe’s back and closed my eyes. I wondered if he’d be mad at me if I asked the Barnetts for a ride home.

“This place gives me the heebie-jeebies,” Joe said as we dismounted in front of the hospital. “Talk about bad memories! Hey, they aren’t going to give Jim the water-torture treatment, are they?”

“The doctor hasn’t mentioned it.” Yet.

“Well, if they do, we gotta bust him out of there right away, you know?” Joe was getting nervous and agitated just looking at the building. I felt sorry for him. Buster had been with him the last time to bolster his courage.

“You don’t have to go inside, Joe. Why don’t you walk the long way around and meet us out back again?”

“Yeah. I think I will.”

I hurried inside and found Jimmy in the common room, sitting in a regular chair, not a wheelchair. “Hi, Jimmy, it’s me—Peggety.” I crouched down and took his hand. He held mine in return, but I could tell from his expression that he was struggling to place who I was. “I’m your friend from across the street back home. We used to work together in your father’s veterinary clinic.” I didn’t want to frustrate him by expecting a response, so I released his hand and asked, “Do you feel like taking a walk outside? Your buddy Joe Fiore is here to see you again, but we had to leave Buster home this time.” He stood and I linked arms with him as we walked outside. His shoulder was level with the top of my head. He seemed stronger and not as shaky as before. We sat down on an empty bench with a view of the wide gray river below us and the mountains in the distance. I had been thinking about what I wanted to say all week, and I hurried to get the words out before Joe made his way to us.

“You have a lot of friends, Jimmy. You always did. But for as long as I can remember, you’ve been my best friend. Sometimes my only friend. You always listened when I needed someone to talk to, and you knew just what to say to make me feel better. I know you must have a lot on your heart, and it must be breaking in two or you wouldn’t be in this place. You can tell me anything and I’ll listen. I want to help you the way you helped me so many, many times.”

I reached up to wipe away a tear, and Jimmy turned his head to look at me. “Thanks, Peggety,” he said. His voice was so soft I barely heard it, then he looked away again. My tears fell faster. I stood as Joe sauntered up with his limping stride and cocky grin.

“Hey, Jim. Joe Fiore. How’re you doing?” He didn’t wait for a reply but shook hands and then just kept talking in his cheerful, rambling way as he stood in front of Jimmy. “I need to thank you again for saving my life. And not just me, you know? Plenty of guys owe their lives to you. That’s why we want to help you get out of this place and back home again. I know we saw a lot of terrible things over there and our lives were on the line plenty of times. I was pretty messed up by it all, you know? And not just because of my leg. But you told me to hang on, that I was going to be okay, and that’s how I know you’re gonna be okay, too. You told me life will always have some rough spots, remember? But you said the good Lord was hanging on to me. I’ll never forget that. And you were right. I’m okay, now—well, most days, anyway.” He gave a shaky laugh. “I’m getting a little better every day, and you will, too. Just let me know what I can do for you and I’ll do it, you know? I mean it. Hey, I owe you my life.” Joe had stuffed his hands into his pockets to control their trembling. He was getting choked up and fidgety. I was scrambling for something to say when Joe looked away and said, “Hey, here’s another old pal you might remember—Chaplain Bill.”

Joe’s relief was apparent. Bill offered his hand and Jimmy shook it. I couldn’t tell if he remembered Bill or not, but as Bill sat down on the bench beside Jimmy and started talking, Joe got out his cigarettes and moved away to smoke one. I decided to let Bill and Jimmy speak in private, and I moved away, too. I stood beside Joe while he smoked, watching a ship on the river below us. Fifteen minutes later, the Barnetts arrived.

“It’s wonderful of you to come all this way to visit Jim,” Mr. Barnett said after I introduced him to Joe and Bill. “His mother and I appreciate your concern and I’m sure Jim does, too.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Bill said. Joe was restless and I could tell he wanted to leave.

“I can ride home with Jimmy’s parents if you want to go,” I told him.

He pulled me away from the others and said, “Yeah, sorry. It’s just that seeing those guys in the white coats and all the messed-up soldiers like Jimmy and me . . . it brings back some bad memories, you know? I escaped from a place just like this one. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I thought what you said to Jimmy was wonderful. I’m sure he’s grateful that you came. Do you know how to get back to our apartment?”

“Yeah, sure. See you later.” He strode off across the grass toward the parking lot.

Chaplain Bill was getting ready to leave too, and he looked so weary and sad that I just had to say something to him. I walked with him to the hospital doors, searching for words. “I-I know it’s not my place to say anything, and you don’t really know me at all, but I’ve been thinking about you all week, Chaplain Bill, and I just want to say, please don’t stop being a pastor. People need you.” Two orderlies pushing patients in wheelchairs were waiting to get through the doors, and we took a moment to hold them open for them. Then Bill gestured to some chairs just inside and we sat down.