Silenced by the Yams

CHAPTER Twenty-two

Howard received a call informing him that Colt had been taken to George Washington University Hospital. There was no news on his condition.

Howard didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go. He simply told Smith that he’d check in later, helped me around to the front seat, and we were on our way back to Washington, DC. As soon as we were underway, he said there would be a lot to discuss about why I was at the Tanner Building and what happened there, but that would happen officially at some point.

“You mean you’re not going to yell at me?” I asked.

He smiled. “Not now.”

After calling my mother and asking her to check in on the girls and Mama Marr, I trained an air vent on my face. The longer the day got, the steamier the air became. “This is the second time Colt was injured because I asked for his help. He’ll never forgive me.” My cheeks puckered and tears rolled down my cheeks again.

“He’ll live, and I highly doubt there’s any question of forgiveness. He’d walk through fire for you.”

“For you too,” I sniffed.

He nodded. “I know.”

The drive from Haymarket to Washington, DC is a long one. I decided to take the time to seriously discuss the touchy subject of Colt Baron and the Marr family.

Howard admitted that theirs had been a tumultuous friendship mostly because of his own jealousy. He knew, as did most of the world, that Colt still carried a torch for me, regardless how much he played the role of being a lady’s man. “But I’m over it—the jealousy, I mean.”

I reached over and rubbed his arm. “That’s good. Besides Steven Spielberg, you’re the only man I dream about.”

“And I trump Spielberg, right?”

“Especially after that last dream,” I said as I watched the suburbs of Northern Virginia sail past my window. “He’s got some ’splainin’ to do.”

We drove in silence for a moment.

“He makes me comfortable,” Howard said.

“Steven Spielberg?”

“No. Colt.”

“How’s that?”

“I know he’ll take care of you if anything ever happened to me.”

God forbid. I spent a lot of effort trying not to think of anything happening to the love of my life. Colt might watch out for me, but he’d never replace Howard. Not for me, not for the girls. Thinking of the girls reminded me of Clarence and I realized that Howard didn’t know. When I told him that Colt had a son, I thought he might drive the FBI’s car right off the road. Once he recovered from the surprise, Howard said he didn’t remember Deena Heatherington, but he was very anxious to meet Clarence.

“Let me warn you,” I said, “he’s . . . unique.”

*****

In fact, the first person we saw at the ER was Clarence, drinking a glass of orange juice. He’d ridden with Colt in the ambulance. Knowing that Colt had lost a lot of blood, Clarence offered his own as soon as they arrived, hoping it would help. He’d taken a shot to the thigh and to the gut, that was all that Clarence knew.

The worried son pushed his blond hair away from his face. “He’s in surgery now.” He sat on a chair, and Howard and I joined him, one of us on either side. I put my arm around him for comfort.

A wall-mounted flat screen TV caught my attention and my face drained. “Would you look at that weasel?”

Clarence and Howard looked up. Guy Mertz was standing in front of the Tanner Building, giving the dramatic performance of his life. We watched him present his eye-witness account of the DC’s most recent shooting, a nefarious fiasco involving a web of drug crime, voter fraud, and the kidnapping of a Northern Virginia mom whose identity would remain anonymous for her protection.

Thank you, Guy. Just when I think I’m going to hate you, you turn around and do a good deed.

The FBI, he continued, had taken Senator Emilio Juarez into custody, while the president of DC’s chapter of the American Cinema League, Jorge Borrego, was pronounced dead on the scene. Meanwhile, two other shooting victims, director Andy Baugh and private detective, Colt Baron, had been transported to George Washington University Hospital. Mr. Baugh was reported to be in good condition. Mr. Baron’s condition remained to be determined. Mertz took a dramatic pause at this point, then spoke with staunch sincerity. “Mr. Baron, you are a brave man who I am honored to know. My thoughts and prayers are with you.”

Okay. I’d start watching Channel 10 again. As long as they kept Guy Mertz on the air.

*****

While we waited for news from Colt’s surgeon, I went looking for Andy Baugh. Howard stayed in the waiting room with Clarence.

I found him in a private room on the third floor, and the nurse in attendance said Mr. Baugh was more than happy to see me. He was just hanging up his phone when I entered.

“I won’t take much of your time,” I said. “I just wanted to see how you were doing and say that I am so sorry for all that you’ve been through these last few days. I just feel terrible that your brother . . .” I couldn’t seem to find the right words to finish my thought.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m going to finish the documentary, so it won’t have all been in vain. He deserves to be honored.”

“You’re a good brother.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not. I let petty jealousy get in the way. I’ll never be able to take that back now.”

“Well, you have my respect,” I said. “For what that’s worth.”

“From someone who values friendship the way you do? That’s worth a million dollars. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, just let me know.”

I smiled. “Well, I have always wanted to meet Steven Spielberg . . .”

*****

Colt came out of his surgery weak, but alive and with the surgeon’s prediction that he’d live another fifty years easily. Only family members were allowed to see him, though, and despite my best efforts to declare that Howard and I were as close as family, the only person they’d allow in to visit was Clarence.

That night at home, I gave my three daughters the biggest, strongest hugs I could. Mama Marr was up and moving around as if she’d never pulled a muscle on a stripper pole, and she practically demanded that I eat the goulash she’d fixed for dinner. I took a bite or two, but just couldn’t keep my eyes open.

“What have you been doing this day, Barbara, that you should be so tired? Saving the world or something?”

“Or something,” I said.

Callie patted me on the back and winked. “We’re going to start calling her ‘Anonymous Mom.’”

Howard suppressed a laugh.

“Ach!” Mama Marr made a face. “This isn’t some more dirty slang words, is it? I don’t want these dirty slangs spoken when I’m living here.”

“Not dirty slang,” Callie assured her. “We’ll call it newsy slang.”

Mama Marr scrunched up her face and finally gave up trying to understand. She picked up my nearly untouched plate. “To bed with you, Barbara.”

“I’ll take her up,” Howard said.

*****

I fell on the bed. Howard helped me take off my shorts and slip under the covers. I curled into a ball and fluffed my pillow under my head. Just before I drifted off to much-needed sleep, Howard crawled in with me, his body spooning mine perfectly.

“Howard?”

“Mmm?”

“Stay with me until I wake up, okay?”

He kissed my neck and pulled me tighter. “Not going anywhere. I’m staying right where I belong.”