23Hello everyone, I am back. I know it's been a while since my last post. I have not abandoned my story. I have been on a bit of a hiatus due to my grandmother's passing two weeks before Christmas. She was a lovely Christian woman who died peacefully at the age of 91. She lived a long, happy life and was surrounded by her loving family. We miss her very much and know we'll see her again someday in heaven with Jesus. Anyway, I hope you are all still with me as I am slowly getting back to my story with the help of my beta. I have a few chapters written so far which are in the editing stages, and I will post them when they are ready. Thanks again to all those who leave reviews, favorites, follow, or just read. Here is my new chapter. I hope you like it. Let me know your thoughts. TTYL and God bless.
FJFJFJFJFJFJFJ
The fourth installment of the Hardy Boys Pressure Series: Second Chances
Second Chances Chapter 5
Wednesday, July 24th,
Fenton entered the Second Chances lobby that morning and saw the receptionist sitting at the welcome desk, deeply focused on her computer. Approaching her, he said, "Excuse me."
"Hello, may I help you?" She asked as she looked up from her computer.
"Yes, my name is Fenton Hardy. My son is a patient here in the hospital section. Is Mr. Gregory available this morning? I would like to meet with him if it's at all possible." Fenton said.
Before the receptionist could respond, a voice from behind them spoke, "Yes, I am." Fenton turned to see the director in the doorway of his office. "Mr. Hardy, good morning. You're here to see Joe, I assume." Gregory said, extending his hand in greeting.
"That's correct. I'd also like to speak with you, if you have a moment." Fenton answered, shaking his hand.
"Please, come into my office," Gregory offered, with a smile and a twitch of his nose—a gesture Fenton found vaguely familiar but still couldn't identify why it was, turning back towards the door that he had just exited from. Fenton nodded slightly and followed the director.
"Could I get you anything Mr. Hardy? Coffee, perhaps?" Mr. Gregory asked as he took his seat behind the desk.
"No, thank you," Fenton declined, as he sat down. "I'd rather get straight to the point."
"Very well, what can I do for you?"
"First, I'd like to thank you for handling the situation with Dr. Stephens and for allowing Laura to be present during Joe's examination. Had he woken up, the incident with the nurse most likely would have stressed Joe and brought back several bad memories, which is the last thing that we need."
"I understand. Your other son, Frank I believe, was quite adamant about his concerns when he visited the center yesterday."
"My sons are extremely protective of each other, especially when one is hurt or vulnerable and the other feels helpless," Fenton said. "The boys have been extremely close since childhood and they share an exceptional bond. Frank's reaction wasn't just about the nurse; he saw Dr. Stephens's behavior and the fact that he ignored the request for a different nurse without finding out the reasoning why as a threat to his brother."
Gregory leaned back in his chair, his nose twitching. "Dr. Stephens is an exceptional physician whose professionalism I can personally attest to. He might take offense if his methods are questioned, but I assure you, such an incident won't happen again. He has been completely briefed on possible triggers for Joe in the future. He's scheduled to introduce you to the physical therapist that has been assigned to Joe this morning at 9."
"Thank you," Fenton replied, and then continued, "Regarding the second issue I wanted to speak to you about," he said, having decided to take a direct approach, "I have reason to believe that one of the residents here may be in some kind of trouble."
"Oh?" Mr. Gregory responded, raising an eyebrow, "One of our residents?"
Fenton recounted Frank's strange meeting with Jason Dolton at the rehabilitation center to the director. Jason was terrified at the mention of Joe's name and had implored Frank not to speak of their meeting. Mr. Gregory regarded him momentarily as he digested the information. Stroking his chin, he cleared his throat, and eventually said, "Jason Dolton, you say?"
"Yes," Fenton confirmed. "When he met Frank, he confided in him that his mother had abandoned him here when he was fourteen and she never came back, while his father will occasionally visit him."
"What kind of trouble do you suspect Jason is facing?"
"So, he is a patient here?"
"Mr. Hardy, as you know due to privacy laws, I cannot confirm that, however if he is I would like to help him if possible."
"It's the impression Frank got from him, especially how he was terrified at the mention of Joe's name." Fenton responded vaguely, watching Gregory for a hint of anything suspicious.
Mr. Gregory leaned forward, speaking with conviction, "Mr. Hardy, our privacy policy at Second Chances restricts the details I can reveal about our residents." He clasped his hands together resting them on his desk, adding, "Nevertheless, since he approached your son and introduced himself, I can tell you that Jason Dolton is grappling with numerous challenges and issues, including addictions, behavior issues, etc. His reaction to Joe's name, however, is quite baffling. I have no idea where he could have heard his name before."
"Would it be possible for you to give me the names and contact details of his parents? I would like to speak with them."
"At the moment, we lack current contact information for Jason's mother, who also struggles with addiction, while Jason's father is a contractor who works overseas. His job takes him to various remote locations for long stretches at a time which complicates communication."
"Perhaps that is contributing to Jason's problems. One would think that his father would rearrange his priorities, and place Jason first. The issues that you've listed that he is dealing with seem to be a cry for attention." Fenton said, his thoughts drifting to Joe and he felt a twinge of guilt; Joe had been trying to do the same and seek his attention. He prayed it wasn't too late for them. "As a father yourself, I assume that you would understand."
"I understand your point, Mr. Hardy. Truly, I do," the director responded. "However, I can also see where Jason's father is coming from. He's a single parent and is striving to provide for his son in the best way possible. As you know, care and therapy here is not exactly on the cheap side."
Fenton nodded. He thought briefly about the details that Mr. Gregory had provided. However, something still felt off. Remembering Frank's comment that Jason's father visited occasionally he said, "He must be checking on his son periodically."
"He does."
"How frequently does he visit his son?"
"Typically, as often as he can when he's in the States."
"So, when he's abroad for months, you are granted guardianship for his son? At least until he comes of age?"
"Yes, this facility ensures a safe and secure environment for Jason. Not only offering me but also several other counselors for Jason to trust, which reassures his father."
"Do you extend this courtesy to all of your residents or just Jason?"
"At Second Chances, we provide this for any resident in need."
Fenton shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure how to feel about this."
"What seems to be the problem?"
"The problem is that you're making decisions for another person's child, who is a minor. In a medical emergency where Jason requires treatment or surgery and his father was unreachable, would you be the one to make the decision?"
"If it were a life-or-death situation, then yes the responsibility would fall to me."
"What about situations that are not life-threatening?"
"We would make every effort to contact the parent of the patient. And in Jason's case, yes, I am his legal and medical guardian, and I would make those decisions on his behalf, with his father's permission."
Fenton blinked in disbelief. "I assume that you have a written agreement from his parents allowing you to make decisions on behalf of their child?"
"Yes, I have legal documentation with the parents' consent, which also states that should I find the child to be a threat to other residents, I am to act accordingly," Mr. Gregory asserted, "and thereafter inform his parents of the incident."
"We never signed any document granting you authority to make decisions for our son," Fenton countered.
"As both of you are present and overseeing Joe's care, I didn't think that it was necessary..."
"That's preposterous," Fenton said, furious at the possibility that Gregory could make decisions for Joe's care, he was positive that neither he or Laura had signed documents giving those permissions, but he was going to go through everything again, just to be sure. He took a deep breath and attempted to suppress his anger. The director's admission had left him stunned. "I must express my objection; this cannot be legal, and I will confirm it. I can't fathom any parent agreeing to such conditions," he stated, standing up.
"I apologize for angering you, Mr. Hardy; it's simply the procedure at Second Chances," Mr. Gregory replied, shrugging.
"Mr. Gregory, you have yet to see me truly angry," Fenton warned, leaning over the desk and nearly touching his thumb and index finger together in front of the director's face. "I'm this close to taking Joe out of here." He straightened up, exhaling slowly to calm himself, then continued, "However I won't, out of respect for Dr. Reese's commitment to helping him. However, if I discover that you or your staff have handled any matter concerning Joe without my or my wife's consent, then you will experience the full measure of my wrath. Are we clear?"
"Completely," Mr. Gregory responded, clearing his throat.
Fenton took another breath, releasing it slowly. His voice remained firm and steady as he spoke, "Mr. Gregory, I have not had the pleasure of meeting Jason yet, I only know of him because of his encounter with Frank the other day, who came to me because he was concerned. If the young man is in trouble, I need to understand what it has to do with Joe as he is unable to tell me at the moment, and I truly wish that he could. Since you're acting as Jason's guardian and are unable to share any information due to the treatment center's privacy policy, I have no other option but to speak with Jason's father. Who is he? How can I contact him?"
Mr. Gregory's nose twitched as he regarded Fenton. He was about to reply when the phone on his desk rang. "Gregory," he answered, spoke briefly, then hung up and turned back to Fenton. "I apologize, Mr. Hardy, but we must continue this conversation later; I have an urgent matter to take care of. Enjoy your visit with Joe today."
"We will continue this later," Fenton asserted. "I'm not sure what's happening here, but something definitely feels off. I'm determined to get to the bottom of it, that's a promise." He strode towards the door, pausing to look back at Mr. Gregory. "And it's Detective Hardy to you," he corrected before exiting and slamming the door shut behind him.
FJFJFJFJFJFJ
"Someone let me out!" cried a little voice from somewhere in the darkness. "I don't like it in here. Please let me out! It's dark! Please, please, I'll be good... Daddy, I'm scared. Daddy, please find me! Don't let him hurt me!"
FJFJFJFJFJFJ
After his unsettling meeting with Mr. Gregory, Fenton was anxious. He tried to calm himself as he made his way towards Joe's room though thoughts were swirling through his mind. He was extremely troubled by the thought that the treatment center's director might be making decisions for minors in their care without their parent's consent. While Fenton had never met Jason Dolton or his father, he felt an inexplicable connection between Jason and his own younger son. Following his visit with Joe that day he planned to call his lawyer and discuss the situation's legal aspects and the situation with him and to make sure that he went over the paperwork that they had been given and that none of those permissions were in place for Joe. Fenton was determined in his quest to discover the identity of Jason's father and what the motives were for Gregory's covert actions. Fenton reflected on the director's gestures and conduct, which seemed strangely familiar, however he didn't know why. Fenton made a mental note to have Sam run a background check on the director and everyone else that they were encountering here for further insight.
As he arrived at Joe's door, he paused and took a deep breath and pushed away all of his previous thoughts. His youngest son required his full attention at the moment. Entering Joe's room, Fenton saw him laying on the bed, curled up as small as he could with his injuries and gazing vacantly at the wall, an IV in his arm. The lingering bruises on Joe's face were stark reminders of his ordeal. Fenton's thoughts flashed back to the recent intrusion into Joe's hospital room in Bayport and he hoped that Sam would find Kirk Shepherds trail soon, since both he and Sam suspected that Shepherd was responsible for Joe's current catatonic condition.
"Joe, it's Dad. I'm here." As Fenton gently caressed Joe's cheek, he vowed that Shepherd would be brought to justice.
Joe's distressed cries haunted Fenton anew: 'Daddy, Daddy, find me! It hurts! I'm sorry... I'm bad... I'll be good... Please don't leave me.' Swamped by remorse, Fenton whispered, "I should have shielded you. I've let you down as a father." A wave of self-reproach came over him and tears welled in his eyes. "The blame is mine. Had I only been more alert." Taking a deep breath to collect himself, he declared to the room, "My family comes first, and that includes you, Joe. I promise you that I will track down the man who caused you to retreat into yourself. I love you, my boy. Please, come back to us soon."
Fenton was sitting next to Joe, talking to him softly and running his fingers through his hair when Dr. Stephens and a stout, black older woman in colorful scrubs interrupted them.
"Good morning, Mr. Hardy," Dr. Stephens said as they entered.
"Dr. Stephens," Fenton responded as he stood up, but remained near Joe's bed, cautious of the doctor. Frank's anger about the doctor's indifference to the nurse caring for Joe and his interaction with Laura yesterday were at the forefront of his mind. They had been assured that Dr. Stephens had been informed of Joe's medical history and traumas, and both Fenton and Laura had made their caregiver preference for Joe clear.
Fenton's instinct to protect was strong, and he chose to be watchful. He thought of Frank's description: 'It's the way he treated Mom. He became defensive when I asked for a different nurse for Joe. At first, he didn't recognize Mom until she introduced herself. Then, everything changed when Mr. Gregory intervened. Dr. Stephens debated with him until Mr. Gregory's single glance quieted him. It was brief, but the doctor looked pale, and I'm certain he was shaking.'
"Mr. Hardy, I want to express my regret again for the incident with your family yesterday," Dr. Stephens said apologetically, "I acknowledge my rashness, a trait that I regret and am working to improve. I was upset when your son Frank questioned my medical choices and staff, but I assure you, it won't happen again. Joe's welfare is my utmost priority."
"I accept your apology, and while the incident will be remembered, I'm willing to move past it," Fenton replied. The underlying tension was palpable, rooted in their differing opinions on Joe's treatment. Fenton had a hunch that there was more to Dr. Stephens than meets the eye.
"Mr. Hardy, I would like you to meet Sarah Jackson; she's the nurse that has been assigned to Joe's care," the doctor introduced. "After my examination, she'll bathe Joe and change his clothes. As we had previously discussed in our initial meeting, as Joe is currently not eating in his condition we'll insert a nasogastric tube for nutrition, and she'll help me with that."
"We've consented to that," Fenton acknowledged, warmly welcoming the nurse. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Jackson."
"It's my pleasure," the nurse responded with a smile. "Please call me Sarah, and as I assured your wife yesterday, your son is in good hands."
"Thank you, that means a lot," Fenton replied, his appreciation clear. He then addressed the doctor, "And the physical therapist? They are scheduled for 9 this morning, correct?"
"Indeed, that's Dr. Makwa. He's not only the center's physical therapist and but he's also the outdoor athletic director at Second Chances. Dr. Makwa came to the center with many recommendations and is exceptional in helping our young residents regain their mobility."
"He's wonderful with the children of all ages and they adore him," Sarah reassured Fenton with a smile. "I'm confident that he will have Joe back on his feet again in no time. He's been a bit delayed as he is currently attending to another patient, but he'll be here shortly after Dr. Stephens, and I leave."
"That's great, I'm looking forward to meeting him," Fenton responded, starting to feel hopeful. The thought of Dr. Makwa brought a sense of optimism. Watching his son, Fenton fought back tears, knowing he would be deeply thankful if Dr. Makwa could help Joe in any way. Staying close to Joe's side, Fenton felt an intense protectiveness. Blinking away the tears in his eyes, he turned to the doctor and said, "Dr. Stephens, I have a few questions before you start my son's examination, if you don't mind."
"Of course, Mr. Hardy, what would you like to know?"
"How long have you been with Second Chances?"
"Roughly seven years," the doctor quickly responded.
"Seven years," Fenton echoed.
"Yes," confirmed Dr. Stephens with a nod.
"And Mr. Gregory—how familiar are you with him?"
Hesitating, the doctor said, "He's been the director for a long time, but we are not close."
"How is it to work under Mr. Gregory? How is he with the children and teens that are here?" Fenton pressed on, "Does he often make decisions about them without parental consent, medically or otherwise?"
"Mr. Hardy, I'm bound by privacy laws and the policies of Second Chances regarding what I can share, but rest assured, Mr. Gregory is fully committed to upholding the professional standard for our residents and their families," the doctor said, before he continued, his voice taking on a defensive edge, "His dedication to the well-being of everyone is unwavering. Any issues, concerns, or disagreements that you have should be taken up directly with Mr. Gregory."
Observing the doctor's shift to a defensive stance, Fenton offered a smile and nodded, saying, "Thank you, Dr. Stephens. I will certainly be speaking with Mr. Gregory."
After Joe's examination, Dr. Stephens updated Fenton on his son's condition: "As you can see Joe currently remains catatonic. However, his back injuries are healing nicely, and as long as we continue massaging the scar tissue, I expect there to be minimal scarring. His leg is also healing nicely and the swelling that he had in it is almost gone." Fenton found solace in Joe's physical improvement, but he was still troubled by his catatonic state. After informing Fenton of his findings, Dr. Stephens excused himself and left to continue his rounds, promising to return to insert the nasogastric tube once his rounds were complete and Sarah had prepared everything that was needed.
As Sarah tended to Joe, Fenton observed her work. Her bedside manner was gentle and showed her skill and kindness, providing comfort to Joe. Fenton was grateful for her gentle approach and the assurance of excellent care as she tended to Joe's needs. Fenton remained beside Joe while Sarah bathed, shaved and dressed him, helping where he could, as he narrated to Joe what was happening and trying to express his love and support. When they were finished taking care of Joe, Dr. Stephens re-entered the room to insert the nasogastric tube.
Dr. Stephens took the prepared equipment from Sarah and laid the tray containing the NG tube, lubricant, gloves, and a syringe on the tray beside Joe's bed. Fenton watched closely, his heart pounding with anxiety and hope.
"Joe, this might be a bit uncomfortable, but it's necessary to help you get the nutrition you need," Dr. Stephens explained gently, though Joe remained unresponsive to his words.
Fenton stood by his protective instincts on high alert. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his chest with his encounter with the doctor.
Dr. Stephens measured the tube against Joe's body, marking the length from his nose to his earlobe, then down to the bottom of his sternum. He applied a generous amount of lubricant to the tip of the tube and then turned to Fenton. "I'm going to need you to help keep Joe steady."
Fenton nodded, placing a reassuring hand on Joe's shoulder. "We're here with you, son," he whispered, unsure if Joe could hear him.
With steady hands, Dr. Stephens began inserting the tube into Joe's nostril, directing it towards his throat. Joe's body tensed slightly at the intrusion, the first time that he had reacted to anything since arriving at Second Chances. Hopeful at the sight, Fenton spoke to Joe, reassuring him and tightening his grip in silent support. "It's okay Joe. It's Dad, I'm here, I'm here. Don't worry, the doctor is just doing this to help you." As the tube reached Joe's throat, Dr. Stephens paused. "Joe, I need you to swallow," he said, more for Fenton's sake than Joe's.
Fenton kept a close watch as the doctor carefully advanced the tube down Joe's esophagus. The procedure seemed endless, but at last, the tube was set. Dr. Stephens attached a syringe, aspirated some stomach contents, and nodded, pleased. "It's correctly placed," he confirmed. Fenton felt hope at Joe's reaction and concern as his eyes remained unfocused and his body motionless. Looking up at the doctor he questioned him about Joe's reaction.
"It's a reflex response, Mr. Hardy. Just because Joe tensed when the tube was inserted doesn't necessarily mean that he's conscious or regaining consciousness," Dr. Stephens explained.
After securing the tube with tape to Joe's cheek, he assured him, "We'll begin feeding him shortly. This will help to provide Joe with the nutrition he needs during his recovery until he is able to eat again."
Releasing a breath that he hadn't known he was holding, Fenton thanked the doctor, emotion heavy in his voice. Turning back to his son he murmured, "Stay strong, son. We're doing all we can."
"Mr. Hardy, we must continue our rounds," Dr. Stephens said while Sarah offered a comforting pat on Fenton's shoulder, adding, "You'll have some time alone with your son. I'll return shortly before noon to commence the feeding; we don't want to do too much to fast because it's been a few days since he's eaten."
After they had left, Fenton remained by Joe's side, softly stroking his blond hair, optimistic about his son's reaction to the tube insertion. "Joe, it's Dad. I'm right here, son. You're safe," he murmured. In the quiet of the room, Fenton searched for the right words to say to his son. Then, taking a deep breath and revealing his deepest feelings, he confessed, "How did we end up here? You know of the challenges that I had with my father, your grandfather. When you and your brother were born, I promised myself that I would be a better father for you both. I wanted to be the caring, protective father I never experienced."
Fenton paused gathering his thoughts together and hoping that Joe was listening closely. Looking into his son's vacant blue eyes and brushing a lock of hair off of his forehead, he began to open up to him, "Let me tell you son, the thought of fatherhood was daunting. About a year after your mom and I got married, I joined the New York Police Academy. We were barely able to make ends meet, and we were living in this tiny apartment just scraping by. I was a new officer, and your mom was volunteering at the hospital. When she got sick, we assumed that it was the flu, but instead she turned out to be pregnant. The prospect of being a dad threw me into a tailspin, which was compounded by the grief that I felt of my own father's suicide, I didn't know if I would be able to do it, and to be the father that my children deserved." Fenton shared gravely. "Then Frank was born. He was this tiny six-pound-nine-ounce healthy spark of life. Holding him, any fears or apprehensions I had dissolved into a deep feeling of love, and I just sat there holding him and staring at him while tears of joy just ran down my face. Your brother was a serene child, always calm and always content. Then, a year later, you arrived, Joe. You were just a bit tinier than Frank was when he was born. As I held you in my arms, I felt those same tears of love. Your personality was the complete opposite of Frank though. You cried endlessly from colic, you were always wanting to be held and comforted and your mother and I often questioned if we could cope, but we managed. We made it through those challenging early days with you and your brother." Fenton gently touched Joe's hair, as he held back tears. "And just like back then, we'll overcome this too, I promise you, son. We'll make things right. I love you, Joe. I'm here. You're safe. Dad's here."
Fenton fell silent and sat back, keeping a watch by his son's bedside. Fatigue crept into his bones, and he felt physically and mentally exhausted. He knew that he had to be careful; that his depression loomed and was threatening to engulf him, but he was resisting it with everything that he had. He had promised to stay strong, to persevere for his family. He fought to stay awake, wanting to keep watch over his son. Yet, despite several determined blinks, his head nodded forward as his eyelids grew heavy, and his chin dropping to his chest as he dozed off.
A gentle knock at the door and a male voice woke him and he startled. "Mr. Hardy."
Jerking his head up Fenton turned in the direction of the voice. He quickly wiped the sleep from his eyes and focused on the figure standing in the doorway.
A tall, middle-aged man in athletic attire stood with dignity, his long, straight blue-black hair cascading down his back. He had prominent cheekbones and a sharp jawline. His dark deep-set, eyes exuded wisdom and intensity, and it was as though he was peering into one's soul. The man's skin was an earthy tone and showed a life lived in harmony with nature. His presence commanded respect, yet he emanated tranquility, mirroring the resilient spirit of his ancestors.
"Mr. Hardy? I'm sorry for running late. I was with another patient. I am Dr. Bear Makwa. I've come to conduct physical therapy with your son." He reached out his hand to Fenton.
Fenton cleared his head. "Yes, Dr. Makwa, it's a pleasure to meet you," he replied, accepting the handshake. He found himself fixated on the man before him. "Apologies for staring; I just didn't anticipate…"
"I understand," Dr. Makwa interjected. "It's a common reaction. I am Bear Makwa, a Native American from the Ojibwe Nation. With so many doctors around, it can be intimidating; hence, I have the kids call me Bear. My name carries spiritual importance. Beyond physical therapy, I also manage several outdoor activities, which merge nature with healing. Annually, at summer's end, Dr. Reese and I escort a group of our residents on a retreat that resonates with my Ojibwe roots. Hopefully, your son will be able to join us this year."
"That sounds amazing. Joe has always been active and on the move. To see him lying here so still is hard to bear. I'd be most grateful for anything that you can do for him." Fenton replied. "However, getting him to wake up and be aware of what is going on around him would be a blessing at this point."
"And we will work towards that," Bear responded.
"How long have you been working here?" Fenton asked. He couldn't explain it, but something about Bear put him at ease.
"Thirteen years," Bear replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "I've seen many children and youth come through these doors, each with their own different battles to fight. With perseverance and the right support, the majority of them have thrived."
Fenton nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope. "I appreciate your dedication. Joe means the world to me. Seeing him like this… it's been tough."
"We'll do everything that we can for Joe." Bear said as he placed a reassuring hand on Fenton's shoulder before moving to Joe's bedside. His voice and movements were calm and reassuring as he explained what was going to happen. "Mr. Hardy, we'll start with some basic physical therapy exercises to help Joe's muscles stay active."
Fenton nodded, watching intently as Bear began his work. "Joe, it's Dr. Bear. We're going to start some therapy today to help you get stronger, and if it's alright with you I am going to have your father help." Bear said softly.
Bear carefully checked the NG tube, ensuring it was secure and not causing Joe any discomfort. "First, we'll begin with some gentle range-of-motion exercises," he explained to Fenton. "These will help maintain Joe's muscle tone and prevent stiffness."
He turned back to Joe and gently lifted his arm, moving it in slow, controlled circles. "It's important to keep his joints flexible," Bear continued, his focus unwavering. "We'll do the same with his other arm."
Bear repeated the movements with Joe's other arm, his touch firm yet gentle. "You're doing great, Joe," he said, even though Joe didn't respond. "Now, let's move on to his legs."
He carefully lifted Joe's injured leg, bending and straightening it slowly. "These exercises help with circulation and muscle strength," Bear explained to Fenton, who was watching with a mix of hope and concern.
Bear continued the session, moving Joe's limbs with practiced ease. "We need to be mindful of his NG tube and ensure it stays in place," he said to Fenton. "Any discomfort or movement of the tube can cause complications."
After completing the exercises, Bear gently repositioned Joe to ensure that he was comfortable. "That's enough for today," he said, his voice soothing. "We'll continue these exercises daily to help with Joe's recovery."
Fenton glanced at his son, and a pang of sadness gripped him; Joe still hadn't responded or moved during Bear's exercises. He had been certain that Joe would react, but there he still lay there limply, his eyes unfocused. Fenton willed the tears not to come, but he could tell that Joe was sinking further into the darkness. He couldn't allow himself to fall apart; he had to stay strong, not only for Joe, but for the rest of his family as well. He swallowed his emotions back and composed himself. Once he gathered himself, Fenton approached Bear, his gratitude evident in his eyes. "Thank you, Dr. Makwa. Your dedication means a lot to us."
Bear smiled warmly. "It's my honor to help. We'll keep working together to support Joe's healing process."
"You said that you had worked here for several years, how well do you know Dr. Reese?" Fenton inquired. "I understand that she referred you to this treatment center."
"Indeed, I'm acquainted with Dr. Reese. We've been peers for many years; we pursued our medical studies at the same institution. She's exceptionally competent and esteemed in her field. Though our specializations differ, we both favor effective, unconventional methods. We're dedicated to addressing the underlying causes of an individual's pain rather than merely the symptoms. Her approach distinguishes us in aiding our residents' recovery and I believe that my methods, which combine traditional and modern medicine are equally beneficial in our young residents' healing journeys."
"What's your experience working with the other staff, such as Mr. Gregory and Dr. Stephens?" Fenton probed, eager to understand Bear's view of the clinic.
Bear regarded Fenton thoughtfully, as he considered his response. "Mr. Hardy, the policies of Second Chances limit what information that I can impart," he eventually replied. "Nonetheless, I can say that the majority of our staff uphold a professional standard and are dedicated to assisting our residents. Some, however, cast ominous shadows, which can hinder the healing of our residents."
Fenton's stomach churned as he absorbed Bear's words. Turning his gaze to his catatonic son, he was torn between despair and resolve. The realization that the very people that they had entrusted with his son's care could endanger him only heightened his fears. "I won't let them hurt you, Joe," he murmured, his voice a mere whisper.
Bear spoke softly. "Mr. Hardy, your family's consistent presence and support are crucial for Joe's recovery. Keep being there for him, even if it doesn't seem to be making a difference. Often, the smallest things can have the greatest impact."
Fenton nodded, feeling hope flicker in his heart. "Thank you, Bear. I'm committed to doing whatever is necessary for Joe." He looked from Bear to Joe. "Recently, my relationship with him has been strained. We've faced much turmoil. Plus, our family has a not so good history— but we're trying to address our issues."
"Mr. Hardy…" Bear started, but Fenton interrupted him. "Please, call me Fenton."
Bear acknowledged the request and resumed speaking, "Fenton, Dr. Reese has informed me about your son's condition. Rest assured, I consider any conversation that we have confidential, unless you indicate otherwise. I'm here to offer support for you whenever you need to talk."
Fenton took a moment to absorb Bear's words, feeling tranquility in his company, trusting him as much as he trusted Dr. Reese with his sons' mental wellbeing.
"Your words and willingness to assist mean a lot, Bear. It's difficult for me to seek help, but my family comes before my ego. Is there any that you can suggest to assist me in reconnecting with my son? I would be extremely grateful," Fenton responded.
"My forebears believed in the interconnectedness of nature, mind, and spirit. To re-establish a bond with Joe, you must undertake a quest."
"A quest?" Fenton asked, puzzled.
Bear nodded an affirmative.
"What sort of quest?"
"In the days ahead, you will need to dedicate time to Joe," Bear detailed. "Eliminate all distractions. Focus entirely on him as he progresses with his therapy."
"That's within my power," Fenton agreed.
"There's one more thing."
"And that is?"
"In order to move forward in your relationship with your son, you must first confront your own past."
Fenton looked from Bear to Joe and sighed. Confronting his past was something that he had long avoided — he did not want to face the darkness of his father's suicide, not to mention the depression that he had battled for years. He had promised his sons that he would seek help, if they would do the same. It would be hypocritical of him to ask them to go to counseling if he didn't agree to it himself. Maybe it was time for him to put the past behind him. He loved his family; they were his world, and he wanted healing for them and for them to all be stronger than ever. He knew the journey would be long and hard, but he was ready to face whatever came for his family.
Fenton turned his gaze back to Bear and said, "I'll do it. I'll take on the quest."
FJFJFJFJFJFJ
Meanwhile in town
Frank, Laura, and Ethel sat at a table in Fisherman's Catch, a cozy restaurant set on the shores of Cedar Lake. The restaurant was renowned not only for its food, but also for its stunning harbor views and boasted rustic charm on the outside and nautical decor inside, which created a warm ambiance. The trio savored delicious lobster rolls and clam chowder. Frank thought about how Joe would appreciate the food that was served here.
The restaurant staff were quick and efficient, catering to the many diners during the busy lunch hour. The menu's wide variety of fresh seafood had made it a favorite among the locals. As they ate Ethel suggested returning for an evening visit on the weekend when restaurant came alive with a vibrant energy, which was perfect for a meal under the stars. Frank made a mental note to bring Joe back here once he was better as he missed his brother and he was sure that Joe would enjoy the restaurants ambiance.
Ethel had picked Frank and Laura around ten that morning to take them into town. Cedar Lake was a picturesque place, adorned with historic houses in faded pastels and narrow streets that lead to a bustling harbor where fishing boats bobbed and seagulls glided.
Frank was eager to delve into the towns history and he hoped to uncover the Sea Spray's story, hopefully without further upsetting Ethel. He planned to explore the town and learn all that he could about Allen Rogers and the Sea Spray.
"This meal is wonderful, Ethel," said Laura, dabbing her mouth with a napkin before setting it on her plate. "And the restaurant is just charming."
"Thank you, I'm glad that you enjoyed it," Ethel responded, having finished her meal. She placed her fork down and sipped water from her glass and asked. "Frank, how was your meal?"
"The lobster rolls and clam chowder were outstanding; I don't think I've had them where they have been this good before, and I'm quite full," Frank replied, leaning back and patting his stomach. "Thank you, Ethel, for bringing us here."
"You're welcome, Frank," Ethel smiled. "Now that we've finished, why don't we leave the car here and go for a walk. I'll show you around the town, and we can do some shopping and sightseeing."
"That sounds delightful," Laura said.
"Sure, I'd love to," agreed Frank with a smile.
After paying for their meals, Ethel, Frank, and Laura wandered through the town's charming shops and boutiques. They paused to admire the artisanal crafts and handmade jewelry, then explored the cozy bookstores and antique shops. The shopkeepers greeted them warmly and engaged in friendly conversations. They then proceeded to the town square, where Ethel explained that in the morning and early afternoon it was a bustling farmers' market. Local vendors set up their stalls and would sell fresh produce, homemade jams, and a variety of baked goods. The air was filled with the aromas of freshly baked bread and other goods, while the vibrant colors of the fruits and vegetables caught the eye. The market allowed residents and visitors alike to enjoy the bounty of the land and sea.
Frank approached an elderly woman who was selling a collection of handmade jewelry and artisan crafts. He admired the workmanship of the items, thinking of Callie. "Can I help you?" the vendor asked.
"I'm looking for a gift for my fiancée," Frank responded with a smile.
"That's wonderful, I have a fine selection of jewelry over here." the woman said beaming as she gestured to a case. "Perhaps you'll find something that you like here."
As Frank looked through the case his gaze settled on a stunning chain with a silver anchor pendant. It was the perfect symbol for them. Callie had been his anchor with everything that had been gong on with Joe, and he couldn't imagine life without her. "This is perfect," he said, indicating the necklace. "I'll take it."
"Excellent choice," the woman responded as she wrapped up the necklace.
Having bought the gift, Frank thanked the vendor. "Ma'am, my family and I are new to Cedar Lake. I'm still getting acquainted with the area and I've been trying to learn a bit about it's history and some of the vessels that use the harbor here."
"Wonderful! Welcome to Cedar Lake," she said warmly. "It's a lovely town, and the lake is simply magnificent. I always enjoy sitting on my deck and watching the sun rise and set over the water. It's truly breathtaking. I'm Loretta Porter, by the way. My husband, Edward, and I have spent our entire lives here, raising our children who are now raising their own families here."
"Thank you. The lake is indeed as beautiful as you described," Frank acknowledged. "I'm Frank Hardy, by the way. Have you heard of the Sea Spray? I've heard intriguing tales about that boat and it's sparked my curiosity." He glanced over to see Ethel and his mother by the display of fruits and vegetables, selecting items to purchase. He hoped that Ethel was out of earshot as he didn't want her to hear their conversation and get upset again about the topic of the Sea Spray as she did yesterday.
"The Sea Spray, you say?" Loretta echoed.
"Yes, that's correct. I'm working on a school paper," Frank stated, using a cover story. He pulled out a small notepad and pen from his pocket, ready for use. Turning his attention back to the woman, he smiled warmly. "I'm majoring in journalism at college and am interested in writing a story about the Sea Spray."
"Oh yes, my Edward worked for the Sea Spray years ago before he retired," Loretta said excitedly, gesturing broadly. "He could probably tell you everything you wanted to know."
"That would be wonderful," Frank responded, his interest piqued. "May I speak with him?" He glanced at his mother and Ethel over by a display of baked goods.
"He's right over there, manning the produce stand. Edward!" Loretta called out, beckoning him. Frank watched a short, balding older man leave his stand and walk over to them.
"What is it, Loretta?" he asked. Loretta quickly introduced Frank, explaining his research on the Sea Spray for a school project.
"Yeah, I worked on the Sea Spray, down at the industrial area by the waterfront," Edward recounted. "I began in the '70s and then stayed until the late '80s. We would go out and harvest lobster."
"Could you elaborate on the lobster industry? What exactly happens?" Frank asked, clearly intrigued.
"Sure, if you're interested." Edward nodded and scratched his chin taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Finally, he began as Frank continued to jot down notes, "Ah, let's see, the law in Maine restricts lobster trapping to specific hours and days. Lobstermen have to understand the sea's behavior to be successful. Each lobster trap is marked with a unique buoy color combination. Lobstermen tend to work alone or with sternmen, who help to bait traps and measure the catches. Lobsters that are too small, too big, or carrying eggs are all thrown back. After they are caught rubber bands are placed on their claws to prevent them from biting each other. Its challenging and dangerous, but it helped to pay the bills. Back then, Hugh Walters was the owner until his retirement, when he sold both the boat and the shipping business. He ended up passing not long after that, but while he was alive his contributions to this town were substantial for many years."
"Hugh Walters?" Frank murmured, jotting down the name. "Does he have any family that I could speak with? Their perspective would be invaluable for my story."
"Yes, his wife Maryam, is still alive." Edward confirmed. "She taught history at the high school for many years. Unfortunately, I don't know how much she would be able to help. She's now in her late eighties and has dementia so she lives in a nursing home. They have a daughter, Ethel Walters, who was always a kind and sweet girl. She currently works at the town library. She's the one you should talk to, she practically grew up on that boat. "
"I will do that," Frank said, glancing over at Ethel, making sure that she was still far enough away, before turning back to the woman and her husband.
"Her last name is Meyers now, after she married that scoundrel Paul. I'll never understand what she saw in him." Loretta added, hand over her heart.
"Loretta, I doubt that this young man wants to hear the local gossip." Edward said, nudging his wife.
"Who is Paul Meyers, and why was he a scoundrel?" Frank asked, his interest piqued.
"It's the truth," Loretta asserted. "He was nothing but a greedy opportunist." Turning back to Frank, her voice dropped to a whisper, "He joined Sea Spray just to ingratiate himself with Mr. Walters. Rumor has it that he married Ethel solely for her father's wealth, since he owned the Sea Spray outright."
"Then he supposedly died. " Edward chimed in. "There were reports of an accident on the boat and Paul went overboard, but they never found his body. He was declared legally dead after seven years. Yesterday was the anniversary of his disappearance."
"I knew about that," Frank responded. "I was told about an incident on the boat. A man went overboard, and his body was never retrieved. There was a storm that day, and they presumed the sea had claimed him, but I didn't know who it was."
"That was Paul Meyers," Edward confirmed. "I never liked him; we met only a few times, but he always rubbed me the wrong way. He was an arrogant young man, freshly graduated, and always jockeying for a promotion and ingratiating himself with the boss."
"Was Paul a lobsterman then?" Frank asked. He recalled his father mentioning that Paul had assisted Ethel's father with the maritime shipping logistics and loading seafood onto trucks.
"I believe he was involved in the office side of the business," Edward responded. "Why he was on the boat that day is a mystery. As I said, it's a demanding and dangerous job; and it requires expertise. Paul Meyers lacked it, and ultimately, he paid the price for his arrogance and the sea claimed him."
Frank observed the couple as they spoke. His gaze then drifted over to Ethel, who was still talking with his mother by the produce stand. His sympathy for Ethel grew as he learned more about her late husband, which made him question what other secrets might be lurking just waiting to discovered. Wanting to steer the conversation in a different direction, he inquired, "Do you know who currently owns the boat and the company?"
"I heard that it's currently owned by a man named Allen Rogers. He's apparently quite difficult to work for. The company has changed since he took over. Hugh, the previous owner, was kind and easy to work with and everyone was friendly with each other and helped each other out. When Rogers took over he fired the previous crew and the new crew of the Sea Spray isn't as friendly," the elderly man explained.
"Have you ever met Rogers?" Frank asked as the name had caught his attention. Sam had mentioned the name to his father, and it was written the note that he had found in the tree by the lake.
"No, I haven't," Edward replied. "I don't think many people have."
"Would you be able to describe him?"
"No." Loretta said, then added. "He's quite mysterious."
"In what way?"
"They say that he's always on the boat from dawn till dusk, setting sail between 4:00 and 5:00 AM to match the lobsters' feeding times," Edward explained.
"If Rogers owns Sea Spray but spends most of his time on the boat, who handles the management of the shipping company?" Frank pondered aloud.
"That's a good question," Edward responded.
After thinking for a moment, Frank determined that his next step should be a trip to the library followed by a visit to the Sea Spray. Thanking the Porter's Frank asked for their contact information before he stowed his notepad and pen. He bid them farewell then turned to catch up with Laura and Ethel.
When Frank caught up to them at the produce stand, he showed Laura the necklace that he had bought for Callie.
"That is lovely, Frank. Callie is going to love it," Laura smiled.
"I thought so too. I can't wait to see her on Saturday," Frank said. "Everyone is going to be there, everyone except Joe, that is."
Laura's heart went out to her oldest son. She knew how much he missed his little brother. "I know. Hopefully, Joe will wake up soon. With any luck, your father has gotten through to him. Joe will wake up, Frank," she added. "We can't give up hope."
"I know, I believe he'll wake up," Frank said, hugging his mother.
"Frank, Callie must be a wonderful young lady," Ethel said, as she placed a few bell peppers and cucumbers in her basket. "Your mother tells me you're getting married."
"Yes, she is. I love Callie very much," Frank smiled, thinking of his fiancé. "We are, once we get through college."
"That's wonderful. I hope that you have a wonderful wedding. Paul and I got married at the courthouse by the justice of the peace. That's how he wanted it: no friends or family, just the two of us. The secretary stood up as our witness," Ethel said.
Frank and Laura exchanged a perplexed look at her comment, and Laura was about to say something when Ethel exclaimed as she moved over to a table with a different variety of produce to select the vegetable. "Oh, radishes! These look simply divine." After she made her purchases, she asked, "Are you both ready to go home?"
"Yes, I want to be there when Fenton gets home. Hopefully, he has some good news about Joe," Laura replied. Frank nodded in agreement as the three headed for the car.