Unfounded Fears
Part 19
Peter reached into the back of the Blazer to unload the fishing gear. After the doctor's orders and the careful monitoring from his companions, he feared this would be the closest he would come to the equipment.
The others had carried armloads of supplies and suitcases into the cabin. Peter's attempt to assist had been met with looks of warning. Stubbornly, he waited until the others were gone, prepared to at least help by carrying a couple of the lightweight fishing poles and the tackle box. The box had slid against the backseat and Peter was unable to reach it from the back of the car. Propping one knee on the tailgate, he boosted himself up and reached towards the case. He ignored the sharp pain in his side as he debated whether his left arm could support his weight while the right arm pulled the tackle box towards him. After what seemed like minutes, Peter had maneuvered the equipment towards him. Gingerly he climbed out of the car, fighting the ache, which flared in his side.
"You are stubborn." The Ancient's voice startled Peter, who spun around in surprise.
Dropping his gaze to the ground, knowing he had been caught, he half-shrugged his shoulders. "I don't like feeling helpless."
"You are not. You are injured. There is a difference," the man lectured.
"Injured. . .helpless. Kind of sound the same to me." Peter tried to keep his response lighthearted, but the old man's expression made it clear that the humor was not being shared.
He waved his index finger at the young man. "No, Peter. To ignore your injuries is reckless. . .nothing more. And it shows a lack of faith in those around you." Peter's smile left his face. Lo Si gave him a sour look, turned his back and shuffled his way to the cabin. Peter looked at the tackle box that he was preparing to lift. After a moment's consideration, he released the handle and sat down on the tailgate, dejected.
Paul came out of the cabin, followed by Kwai Chang Caine. Caine looked at his son's slumped shoulders and knew something was wrong. With worry in his eyes, he placed a hand on the younger man's right shoulder. "Peter, what has happened?"
The hazel eyes focused on clinched hands. "Nothing. I'm just a little tired."
Upon hearing Peter's words, Paul's eyes reflected the same concern. "Why don't you go on in and lie down for a while. We'll unpack."
Peter took a deep breath, felt the spasm of pain return and nodded. "Yeah. . .I think I will."
The young man turned his back on his father and Paul, slowly climbing the stairs to the cabin. Paul glanced at Caine. "What was that all about?"
Caine shook his head and then shrugged his shoulder. "I do not know."
Peter hadn't realized how tired he really was until he cautiously collapsed on top of the bed. His side ached, as did his shoulder. His heart wasn't feeling much better. Lo Si's words had cut deep. The young man had never considered his disregard to 'doctor's orders' as being anything more than a stubborn attempt to make his body get better, faster. He certainly had never thought it to be a slight against his father and Paul's abilities.
Then he remembered Paul's words from so long ago. It was a conversation that was held shortly before Peter's discovery of Kwai Chang Caine:
>>Blaisdell climbed out of his sedan and watched his foster son approach. He ignored the cold rain droplets pelting him in the face. "Quite a stunt you pulled at the Agrippa Club last night."
Peter grinned at the Captain and the two men crossed the street, making their way to the morgue. "That's what Tyler said. Think it'll make the news?"
Blaisdell shot a look of disapproval at the young man. "I know you're tough. I wouldn't want to go against you."
Peter gave him a cocky response, despite the look. "Who would?"
Suddenly, the Captain stopped walking and halted his foster son's progress as well. "Look, if one of my officers gets shot it means I haven't done my job. I didn't give him the backup he needed. You will make me look very bad if you walk into the next die-hard situation with guns blazing. . ."<<
Peter rolled over onto his good side and fingered the sore ribs. That was exactly what he had done in his pursuit of Del Barton. He had disregarded Paul's orders and gone in, thinking he could single-handedly bring the arms dealer down. He was wrong. Worse yet, he had hurt Paul in the process. And now, he'd done it again. He had ignored the instructions given to him because of. . .what? Pride? Disrespect?
"I am sorry, Peter. I should not have said those things to you." The elderly man's voice startled Peter, despite its gentleness.
Peter did not reply. Lo Si took a step forward. "I should not have interfered. You are. . .who you are. You can not change."
Peter struggled to sit up, ignoring the twinge of pain. "No, Lo Si. You're right. I do bring disrespect to my father and Paul when I push myself like that. I had never really thought of it that way before." Peter's eyes dropped in shame.
Lo Si sat on the edge of the bed. "They care deeply for you."
Peter closed his eyes. "I know."
"Then you should know that what brings the most anguish to them is to see you in pain."
Peter nodded. "I know."
The Ancient aimed brown eyes filled with love at the young man. "It brings anguish to me, as well. However, I must learn to not always express my opinions with such zeal." The old man then smiled and stood. "I am hungry. This fresh air can bring on quite an appetite."
Peter smiled and nodded, "Yeah. Food sounds good." He then slid back down into the bed. The elderly man waggled a finger in front of him. "No, young Caine. You may not be allowed to help unload the vehicle, but you are more than capable of helping me prepare supper."
Peter grinned and shook his head. "I don't think I'm well enough. I'm under doctor's orders to take it easy."
"You forget. I am an apothecary. I know when you are well. Come."
Peter pushed himself out of bed and followed the old man into the main room.
"I thought you were going to get some rest, my son." Caine said from the fireplace, where he was unloading an armful of firewood.
"Lo Si had other ideas. I tried to tell him I was too weak to work, but he wouldn't believe me."
"You are strong, Peter. You can. . ." the elderly man paused and then tossed a head of lettuce at the younger man, "make salad."
Paul caught the tail end of the conversation as he brought in a second armload of wood. "Oh, he's had lots of practice at that. That used to be his job when we would barbecue steaks."
"Yeah, but then I graduated to shucking the corn." Peter was flooded with the memories of his first years with the Blaisdells.
"And a damn fine corn-shucker you were." Paul laughed as he dropped the load of wood into the firewood box.
Peter shuddered. "Man, I hated the worms. I don't know how many times I ripped into one of those cobs and squished a worm. At first I felt guilty for taking the little life. . .then it just grossed me out."
Kwai Chang Caine watched the exchange between the two men, trying to hide his envy. While Peter and he would have never experienced a family barbecue at the temple, the joy of watching his teenage son deal with life's little crises was lost to him forever.
Paul caught the distant look in Caine's eyes. He stood and brushed the bark chips from his clothes. Clearing his voice, he brought Peter's father back to the present. "We don't have enough wood for the weekend. Would you like to join me in cutting some more?"
"I'll help you," Peter volunteered.
"You have salad duty," Paul responded.
Lo Si grabbed the head of lettuce from the young man. "Go with Paul and your father. You can. . .supervise." The Ancient shot a wink and a grin to the cop.
Peter pushed himself from the chair. "Right. . .I'm management this weekend." He strutted past his father and foster father. "I get to watch while you two do the work." He then glanced at Paul. "Sound familiar?"
Paul laughed at Peter's antics and followed him out the door. Caine was close behind.
"Do you have an ax?" Caine asked the Captain, as they descended the steps and circled the exterior of the cabin.
"I have something better than an ax," Paul answered. He went to the back of the cabin and unlocked the storage bin. Inside was a small chain saw. Caine raised his eyebrows with a hint of disapproval. The silver-haired man shrugged and then grinned. "I learned a long time ago that if I wanted to have the energy to keep up with Peter, I had to make the cabin preparation easier on myself."
Peter jammed his hands in his jacket pockets. "Yeah, Pop. Sometimes doing it the old fashioned way is damned inconvenient, not to mention down right exhausting."
Caine smirked at the explanations and then bowed. "Quite logical."
End Part 19
To Part 20