To Part 9
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Caine watched his son without speaking for many minutes, and at last rose to his feet to confront Peter. "Peter, you must calm yourself." He spoke slowly, hazel eyes filled with concern.
"Pop, she wanted to go home. She didn't want to dance with Eppy, but I made her." He raked a shaking hand through his hair. "She'd told me what he'd done at Chandler's the other night, and I just blew her off. I *KNEW* she didn't feel comfortable with him, but I still...Jesus, what kind of husband am I to..."
"Peter." Caine stopped his son in mid-sentence with that simple command, and placed both hands on Peter's shoulders. "You must calm yourself," he repeated. "You will not be able to provide the comfort Kay Cee will need, in your present state of mind."
"Pop! I can't act as if nothing happened!" Peter choked.
"You do not have to 'act' at all. You must simply give her your support and your love. There will be time enough to talk...later."
"She'll be all right, Peter, you'll see." Jody spoke with more assurance than she felt. The last time she had seen someone with a face cut up like Kacie's, the victim had been thrown through the windshield of a car.
The automatic doors leading into the ER area slid open, and a doctor approached the group. "Mr. Caine? I'm Dr. Dawson. I've been examining your wife."
"Is she all right?" Peter asked anxiously. "Her eye...is it...?"
"The eye itself wasn't damaged. We called in an ophthalmologist to be sure, and he says there is no damage to the eye muscles or to the retina," Dawson assured him.
"Oh, thank God," Peter uttered fervently. "She was so scared about that all the way to the hospital."
"The cut was deep, but clean, and as far as we can tell, the major facial muscles weren't affected."
"There was so much blood."
"Head wounds tend to bleed like that. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Her nose is broken, but we'll have to wait a week to ten days for the swelling to go down before we'll know what needs to be done there." Dawson held out a paper. "We need you to sign this form giving permission for us to perform surgery..."
"Surgery?" Peter interrupted him, shocked. "What- what does she need surgery for?"
Dawson smiled reassuringly. "McClanahan called in a favor and has Dr. Novak coming in to take care of the stitching."
"Who is he?"
"Only the best plastic surgeon in this part of the country. By the time he gets through with Kacie, no one will be able to tell she had an accident."
Peter scrawled his name at the indicated spot and asked, "Can I see her first?"
"She's pretty out of it. We're prepping her for surgery now. It would be better if you just wait here. Excuse me." He turned and disappeared through the emergency room door.
His legs suddenly feeling weak, Peter allowed his father to lead him over to a couch to sit down. Propping his elbows on his knees, he bowed his head and rested his forehead on his palms, shoulders sagging.
"Can I get you anything, Peter?" asked Skalany solicitously. "Cup of coffee, maybe?"
"No. Thanks. I don't want anything."
Deep in his heart a voice was crying out, {Yes, you do. You want everything to go back to the way it was. You want to stop seeing Kacie's face covered with her own blood. You want Eppy to still be up there on his pedestal, not lying drunk at your feet.}
Peter sighed and rubbed the back of his hand against his brow. "Thanks for being here, you guys. Why don't you go on home? It's late."
The three looked at Caine, and the expression on his face told them clearly that he would remain with Peter for as long as needed. Kermit patted Peter's shoulder awkwardly by way of goodbye, and each of the women kissed the top of his head before they left. All were sensitive to the fact that Peter was too upset to deal with anyone else but his father.
Peter and Caine sat side by side on the waiting room
couch, Peter with his head in his hands, his father
resting a comforting arm about his shoulders. A shaky
figure approached them warily, and when Peter looked up
and recognized Epstein, he lunged to his feet with a with
a murderous glint in his eye. Only Caine's restraining
grip kept him from striking out.
"Petey, I...don't know what to say." Epstein shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands beseechingly. He looked for all the world like a skid row bum, his eyes bloodshot and watery, and his hands shaking with tremors.
"Why don't you start with explaining what the HELL you were doing pawing my wife?" Peter snapped. His father's grasp on his arm prevented him from getting any closer to Epstein." And then you HIT her? You broke her nose! She almost lost an eye because of you, you son-of- a-bitch!"
"Peter." Caine's voice reproved his son, and prevented him from saying more.
"They...told me what I did. I don't remember it. I swear to God I don't remember any of it." Epstein's voice cracked and broke. "Lately, I been havin' these blackouts. I...have hours...sometimes whole days...where I can't remember where I been or what I done." He flinched before the look in Peter's eyes; eyes that had always held so much warmth for him in the past, were now filled with anger and grief.
"I love ya like my own kid -- hell, MORE than my own kids...I would never do anything to hurt you." Tears started to roll down his cheeks. "I am so sorry, Petey. I don't know what else to say. When I came to, they told me what I'd done. Oh, Jesus, Petey, please don't hate me. I-I need help." He collapsed into a chair and sobbed.
The rage vanished slowly from Peter's face as he stared at the broken man who had once been his partner. He remembered twelve years of friendship, and especially the four years of partnering. The man he had looked up to and practically worshiped had finally become just that. A man. Not an idol, not a hero, but a man. A man with flaws and imperfections and fallibility, just like any other man. From somewhere within, Peter felt compassion start to rise.
"I...got nowhere to go." Eppy peered at him through tear-filled eyes. "I don't know what to do. I got nobody and nuthin'. I can't go back to Paul's. Not after what I've done."
"Go on back there tonight," Peter told him quietly. "They don't know about this yet. You can tell them yourself in the morning." He looked at Epstein through great, sad eyes full of disillusionment. "You've got a problem, Eppy, and you need help. Paul will help, and- and-and so will I." He got to his feet. "Come on. Let's get you a cab."
Father and son sat together silently in the waiting
room. Peter sighed and rubbed a hand across his tired
eyes. The evening had run the gamut of emotions, and he
was nearly exhausted. "Thanks for being here with me,
Pop," he said wearily. "You're always there when I need
you."
Caine shrugged his shoulder in the gesture so characteristic of him. "I...will always...be here for you, my son. I love you."
Peter sighed again and leaned over to rest his head against his father's strong shoulder. "I love you, too, Pop."
Caine stroked gentle fingers through the hair on the back of Peter's head. "Your spirit is troubled. Can I help?"
Peter lingered a moment longer in his father's embrace before pulling away to look at him. "I can't get Eppy out of my mind, Pop." He got to his feet to pace restlessly. "He's hurt Kacie. He-he-he put his hands on her. And I...keep feeling sorry for the guy." He stopped moving to see his father regarding him soberly. "What's the matter with me? When I first saw him here I wanted to tear his throat out. A part of me still does. And now...I don't know...I want to do something to ease his pain."
"Do you remember the time you were shot by the junkie, as you would call him?"
Peter nodded slowly.
"Do you remember that you were angry with me when I said that his pain must have been great for him to have hurt you the way that he did?"
A dawning light of understanding began to grow in Peter's eyes. "You were torn by these same kinds of feelings?"
Caine got to his feet to stand before Peter and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Yes. A part of me wanted to seek vengeance on the man who had nearly killed my son." His head lowered in shame. "I came very near to acting on those feelings."
"You never told me that before."
"A parent never wants to seem less than perfect in the eyes of their child," Caine confessed, and then continued. "Peter, you must remember that the Shaolin way is to help anyone who is in need, no matter what they have done. Even though you have not taken the physical brands, my son, you ARE Shaolin."
"But how can I help Eppy without feeling disloyal to Kacie, Pop? After what he did to her, and the way he's made her feel? How can I explain any of this to her if I can't explain it to myself?"
"Peter, you are wanting to help an old friend with a serious problem. I do not believe, if he had been...in his right mind...that Epstein could do harm to someone that you love. Especially someone you love as much as Kay Cee. You are being true to your training and to yourself by following this instinct to help him. By doing so, you are also being true to your wife. You can love and care for your friend AND your wife. It is not necessary...for you to choose one and abandon the other." Caine's eyes warmed as he smiled. "And, you are forgetting something, my son."
"What's that?"
"Your wife is a loving, compassionate young woman, much like your mother. When you are able to talk to one another, I am sure that you will be able to...work it out? I have watched the two of you together, and have seen the way you speak without words to one another's heart. To have a wife like that, my son, is a priceless gift."
Peter's eyes misted over and he pulled his father's head down to kiss his forehead. "Thanks, Pop," he whispered gratefully.
A man dressed in surgical greens emerged from the elevator and approached them. He was in his mid- forties, with hair just starting to go gray at the temples. He extended his hand and introduced himself. "Mr. Caine? I'm Dr. Novak."
Peter found himself looking into steely gray eyes that conveyed instant reassurance. Shaking the man's hand, he asked hoarsely, "My wife?"
Novak quickly reassured him. "Came through the surgery like a champ. It took about twenty stitches in all..." He stopped at Peter's shocked look. "Keep in mind: in MY line of work, the stitching is very delicate, very small. The object is to prevent scarring." He smiled briefly as the color started to return to Peter's face. "I need to warn you that she looks much worse than the injuries actually are. There's a lot of swelling and bruising around her eyes and nose, but I promise you that she will be fine."
"Can I see her?"
"She's being taken to a room right now. I'll send a nurse to get you when your wife is settled in. Stop looking so worried. She'll be fine, really."
Peter shook the doctor's hand and smiled wanly. "Thank you, doctor."
Peter entered Kacie's room quietly, and somehow wasn't surprised to find Dr. McClanahan standing at the foot of her bed, reading her charts. The two men shared a long look.
The doctor spoke first. "She was in a lot of pain," McClanahan informed him gruffly. "I gave her a dose of Demerol, and it knocked her right out."
"You mean I can't talk to her?"
"She's sleeping right now, but I think that she'll know you're here."
"Can I stay with her tonight?"
"I'll take care of it for you. There won't be any problem."
Peter nodded his thanks, unable to speak. He moved over to Kacie's bed while the doctor made his exit.
She was lying on her side, facing the wall, and he groaned aloud as he saw the swollen, misshapen face. There were traces of dried blood in her hair, even though efforts had been made to clean her up. Her eyes had already started to blacken, and he could just make out the yellowish stain of antiseptic wash at the edge of the bandage by her eye. He leaned over to kiss the top of her head. Pulling the chair close to the bed, he sat down, taking the hand without the IV needle into both of his and rubbing her limp fingers against his lips.
He felt the presence of his father, and the comfort of a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, Pop. Look at her," he choked. "How could I let this happen to her? I should have taken better care of her. I should have seen this coming."
"Peter, we cannot always protect those we love. We can only do...what we can do."
"It's not enough, Pop." He kissed the fingers held captive once again. "For someone as wonderful as she is, it's not enough."p> "You are exhausted, Peter. You need to rest."
"I can't sleep, Pop. She might wake up and need me."
"She can feel your love. She can feel your presence. She needs nothing more from you right now." Caine pressed gentle palms against Peter's temples, and the younger man's eyes closed in spite of themselves. "Rest."