Page 7 of Smuggler's Cove
Rita was staring off into the distance. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“How is he doing?”
“Not well. That’s why they are transferring him. They don’t have the capabilities for someone who is in a coma.”
“A coma?” Betty let out a long puff of air.
“Well, that’s what the doctor alluded to. He needs to be accurately diagnosed.” Tears dripped down her face. “I don’t know if I can handle any of this.”
“I have an idea. Why don’t you let Jackson and Kirby stay here until you can sort things out? You can’t be toting two little boys around.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” Rita said.
“May I remind you again? You didn’t ask. I offered.”
“I think I should bring Jackson with me. He’ll want to see his father.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” George cut in. “He didn’t seem too upset by the news.”
Rita hung her head. “There’s been too much drama in our lives. Jackson’s father can be extremely aggressive.”
“Has he ever struck the children? Or you?” Betty asked in dread.
“No. No. That’s why I had to leave. It was just a matter of time.” Rita sat down at the kitchen table. “I figured if I left and took the children, he’d either decide to be less of a bully, or divorce me. But things could not stay the way they were.”
George sat across from his sister-in-law. “People don’t really change. You didn’t know a whole lot about him before you married him. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. A lot of people did the same thing. If you weren’t married before the war, then time was a-wastin’, and you had to beat feet and get to it.” He reached over to Betty and patted her hand. “We were lucky. We grew up together. All three of us, but Betty was the fortunate one, and she got to marryme.” He chuckled.
“You’re the lucky one, buster.” Betty gave him an elbow.
Rita took a deep breath. “This is what I am going to do: George, you will drive me and Jackson to the hospital. Kirby will stay here with Betty. George, I don’t know what condition our car is in. Would you mind phoning the police station for me? If it’s okay to be on the road, I’ll use it for transportation.”
George picked up the phone and asked the operator to put him through to the Paterson Police Department. Several minutes later, he had the answer. The windshield needed to be replaced, and the front-end bumper and fender took a beating. “You can pick it up at the impound lot. They want a hundred-dollar bond to secure fines against J.T. He’s going to have to go to court at some point. Unless he can’t. But one foot in front of the other.”
“I can’t thank you both enough. I invaded your privacy and brought a whole lot of commotion with me.”
“Now, you hush.” Betty frowned. “We’re family, and we will figure this out like family.” She put her arm around her sister. “I’ll fix us a cup of tea.” Then the two women burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” George asked.
“Tea.”
George shrugged. Understanding women required a skill he did not possess.
* * *
The next morning, Rita told Jackson they were going to visit his father, and Kirby would be staying with Aunt Betty and Uncle George. Jackson was puzzled. He didn’t know what it meant to be in the hospital, but he guessed he was going to find out. And why wasn’t his mother bringing Kirby with them? She gave him a vague explanation.
“Your father was in an accident, and we must visit him. Children Kirby’s age aren’t allowed, so he’s going to stay here until we get back.” She didn’t say how long it would be, because she really had no idea. She simply hoped it wouldn’t be indefinite.
George carried Rita’s suitcase to the car, and then Rita positioned Jackson in the back seat. Betty handed Rita a basket of sandwiches and waved them off.
It was eerily quiet the first half hour of their drive. Finally, Uncle George broke the silence.
“Jackson, when we get back, I’m going to take you fishing like I promised.”
“Okay,” was his response. Nothing more. His world had been turned upside down. One day they were home; the next, they were on a bus and ended up at his aunt and uncle’s house. A couple days later, his uncle was driving him and his mother to a hospital to see his father. Why hadn’t his father come along with them in the first place? His emotions were unidentifiable. He wasn’t unhappy that his father hadn’t gone with them. Was that wrong? Now they were going to visit him, and he felt a little uneasy. Was that wrong, too? He didn’t want to burden his fretting mother with questions, so he remained silent until she offered him a sandwich. He took it, thanked her, and went back to his pensive mood.
He could tell they were getting close by the appearance of a few more cars on the road, buildings rising in the distance, and trees becoming fewer and more scattered.
