Date: Mon, 2 May 2011 20:42:10 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jerlar <jetdesk2@yahoo.com>
Subject: Nurse and the Patient, Part 19

This story contains graphic sexual scenes between males. If material of
this nature offends you then you should not read this story.  Additionally,
if you are under 18 years of age in most states you are not allowed to read
this story by law.
  This story is purely a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to person's
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.
  The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or
publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it
has been posted, without the consent of the author.

Mark Stevens


Nurse and the Patient, Part 19


	Jonathan held a cup of coffee in his hand. It was his first for the
day. As he took a sip of the steaming liquid he allowed himself to drift
into deep thought. Something was bothering him, and he didn't quite no what
to do about it. He thought about Lance and all the shit he had dug up
concerning his family. In particular, he was thinking about Carter Wilson
and Edith Baxter. For some reason, when he had told Lance the things he had
discovered, he left out the fact that Edith was Carter's mother. That would
make Edith Lance's grandmother. For the life of him, he couldn't think why
he had left that little bit of information out. Perhaps his mind hadn't
been working properly after he woke up from being rescued from the fire.
	He thought about Edith Baxter and wondered why she had remained
silent. After all, she knew the truth, that Lance was her relation, her
grandson. Why had she kept quiet, he wondered?
	"Earth to Jon."
	Jonathan was suddenly brought back to the present. He looked up and
discovered Lance standing in the room holding to the sides of his walker.
	Guilty by the thoughts he was having, he felt his face turning
red. He sat his coffee cup down on the table beside his chair. "Morning,"
he greeted.
	"You're up early," Lance said.
	"I felt I was tossing too much. You were sleeping so well, and I
didn't want to disturb you. Besides, you know how much I enjoy my early
morning coffee," he added with a grin.
	"I'm ready for a cup myself," Lance admitted.
	Jonathan stood to his feet. "Make yourself comfortable, and I'll
bring you some."
	He left the room and soon returned with a steaming cup. He handed
it to Lance.
	"Thanks. Now, why the hell are you up so early?"
	Jonathan decided he wanted a refill and headed for the kitchen with
his cup. He came back and took his seat once more. He studied Lance for a
moment and made a decision. He decided that Lance had the right to know who
he really was.
	"Lance, I've been thinking about something; something you should
know," he added.
	"I thought I did know everything."
	Jonathan shook his head. "Not exactly," he said. "I'm not sure just
why she didn't say anything, but there was something Edith Baxter should
have told you, and for some reason, didn't"
	"I'm waiting," Lance said when Jonathan paused.
	"I'm pretty sure we're going to find out that Carter Wilson was
your father, rather than Sam. I think we both agree on that. However, do
you have any idea who Carter Wilson was, where he came from?"
	"Other than hearing his name once or twice when I was younger and
that he had worked for the company? No idea, whatsoever."
	Jonathan took a breath. "He was Edith Baxter's son," he said
quietly.
	At first his words didn't register with Lance. When they did,
however, his eyes opened wide, full of surprise.
	"What the hell?" he said.
	"Edith told me she had Carter when she was really young. She was
single and alone, and she didn't think she could raise him the way he
should be. So, she gave him up for adoption."
	"I don't understand." Lance appeared to be confused.
	"She said she was young and fifty years ago it was frowned on to
raise a child without a father. She said it wasn't accepted the way it is
today."
	"She's my..."
	"Grandmother," Jon finished when Lance couldn't speak.
	"My grandmother," Lance repeated softly.
	Jonathan didn't speak for a time. He sat in his chair drinking
coffee, thinking it best to give Lance time to process everything.
	When Lance next spoke, he said, "I always wondered why I felt Edith
was so special. As a child, I loved being around her, sitting at her desk."
	"She does love you," Jon said. "I could tell that each time I spoke
with her."
	Lance was thoughtful for a moment. Then he said, "You think it
would be all right if I went to see her?"
	"I think she would like that," Jon told him.
	Lance looked at the clock on the wall. It was just a few minutes
after eight. "I think I'll give her a call later this morning and ask if I
can come visit her."
	Jonathan stood to his feet and walked over to Lance's chair. "I
think you should," he told him. He reached down and gave Lance a kiss. "I
love you."
	Lance looked up and smiled at Jon. "You have been so good to me."
As he spoke, a tear ran down his cheek. "If you hadn't come home with me, I
would never have discovered any of this. And I wouldn't have fallen in love
with you," he added, speaking the words softly.
	Jonathan placed his arms around Lance. "I did come home with you,
and you did fall in love with me, so there."



>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>



	Later that morning, their breakfast over, Lance reached for the
telephone and dialed Edith Baxter's telephone number. When he had her on
the line, he asked if Jonathan could bring him over sometime that day for a
visit. There were some things he wanted to discuss with her, he told her.
	She invited him and Jonathan over for coffee, saying anytime that
morning would be okay.
	Lance told her they would be there at eleven o'clock. When he
punched the key that ended his conversation, he looked over at Jonathan. "I
hope this doesn't go sour," he said.
	"I don't see how it can," Jonathan told him. "After all, you are
her grandson, and for the first time since you've been born, she can talk
to you and be honest with you about who you really are. I'm sure it's been
really hard on her all of these years knowing you are her grandson, yet,
not being able to connect with you in the way I'm sure she wanted to."
	Following a long period of silence, Jonathan said, "Lance, are you
going to be okay with this? Really okay, I mean?"
	"Are you asking if it bothers me that she gave my father up for
adoption?"
	Jon nodded.
	"I don't think it bothers me to the point I would let it keep me
from getting to know her. Do I think things would have turned out better if
she had kept him to raise herself? That, I can't say. That's something, I
guess, none of us will ever know."
	"There is one thing you can do now," Jonathan said.
	"What's that?"
	"I'm sure Edith is carrying a big load of guilt. I hope you will be
able to take that away from her. She's an old lady now, and who knows how
much longer she might have. I hope you will do your best to help rid her of
that guilt."
	Lance seemed really deep in thought for a moment. Then he said,
"Edith is my family. I owe it to her to see that she is happy."


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


	Jonathan walked along beside Lance as he made his way slowly to the
steps of Edith Baxter's porch, using his walker to support his weight. When
they reached the door, Jonathan reached out and rang the now familiar sound
of the old fashion bell. He smiled at Lance and stepped back.
	The door was slowly opened, and they were greeted with a
smile. Edith opened the screened door and said,
	"Good morning. Please, won't you please come inside?"
	She stepped to the side, allowing Lance space to move into the room
with his walker. Once inside the house, she said,
	"Please, have a seat. I've made a fresh pot of coffee."
	As she started for the kitchen, Jonathan said,
	"Edith, let me give you a hand."
	Edith Baxter gave him the warmest of smiles, and Jonathan thought
the woman was definitely smiling more these days. She seemed to be a
changed person from the fearful old woman he had first met.
	He hurried out into the kitchen and returned with a tray that held
three cups of coffee, a small pitcher of milk and a tiny bowl of sugar. He
served them their coffee and took a seat next to Lance on the couch.
	Edith looked at Lance over her coffee cup and fairly beamed as she
spoke. "How are you doing, Lance?" she asked.
	"I'm happy, Edith. Really happy," he added.
	"Something tells me that Terry here, or Jonathan, which ever he
decides to go by, is the reason for your happiness." Her eyes twinkled as
she spoke the words.
	Lance placed a hand lightly on one of Jon's legs. "You're right;
he's a big part of my happiness. However, there is something else that has
added to it. Rather, someone," he added.
	Edith continued drinking her coffee. She didn't speak.
	Lance leaned forward and smiled. "Can you tell me everything you
know about my father?"
	"I assume you are speaking of Carter Wilson."
	"I am."
	Edith sat her coffee cup down on the table beside her chair. Her
eyes softened as she reached into the back of her memory, recalling the
past. "Your father was the kindest man I ever knew. Your grandfather was a
good man, but I don't think even he could outshine Carter. Carter was
just...Carter. He never met anyone he didn't like, I'm almost sure. And he
would have done anything for Ronald Smyth. He was just a good boy."
	As she sat there in her chair, her mind dwelling on the past, Lance
smiled at her and said, "And he was your son."
	"He was that."
	Her next words sounded bitter. "He was my son, and I failed him
miserably."
	"You did what you thought was best, Edith," Lance said quietly.
	"I've often wondered if that were true or not. Did I do what I did
because it was best for him, or best for me?"
	Lance gave Jonathan a smile. "Edith, you did what you had to, and
no one can blame you. Did my father know you were his mother?"
	She shook her head. "I promised the Wilson's I would never tell
him. After all, it was only fair to them. They took him in and loved him
like he was their own."
	"I know that had to have been hard, Edith. What you did proved you
loved him very much."
	"You know, don't you, Lance, that I have always loved you. Always,"
she repeated.
	He nodded. "I know you have. I have felt the same way. Even as a
young boy, when I would come to the office and spend time at your desk, I
always felt drawn to you, felt love for you."
	Lance went on. "We're family, Edith. I want to be in your
life. Please, would you allow me to spend time with you, really get to know
you?  I feel so much time has been lost, and I would like the chance to try
and make it up to you."
	Tears flowed down the old woman's cheeks. "I can think of nothing I
would rather do than spend time with my grandson, get to know him."
	"Do you have any pictures of my father?"
	"I do."
	Edith stood to her feet and walked over to an old fashioned looking
book case. She returned with a thick photo album. As she took her seat once
more, she said, "The Wilson's were wonderful about keeping me informed with
Carter's life. Every time they had pictures taken of him, they made me a
copy as well. Even though I wasn't allowed in his life while growing up, I
was still permitted to watch him grow."
	Jonathan stood to his feet. "Trade me places," he said to
Edith. "You should be sitting next to Lance, and the two of you can look at
the pictures together."
	For the next hour or so Lance shared the picture album with his
grandmother, enjoying each story she told. It was still hard for him to
believe he had belonged to another family, and still harder for him to
realize that Samuel Thompson was not his father.
	More than one time Edith would look up from a picture and stare
into Lance's face and say, "You look so much like your father. You have his
color of hair and eyes, and even your nose and your chin remind me of him."
	The last time she pointed out the likeness, she said, "Maybe now I
can make it up to him. Perhaps get a second chance to do right by him with
you."
	Lance reached a hand out and gently hugged her thin shoulders. "I
don't want you to feel as if you have to make anything up to me. To be
honest, I feel as if I'm the one who needs to make up for everything that
has happened."
	Jonathan had been sitting quietly across the room. Smiling at them
both, he said, "If I may add something here." Before they could speak, he
went on, saying, "Things just happened, and no matter what either of you
may think, you cannot go back or change any of the events that took
place. However, what you can do is move forward and enjoy whatever may
happen from this point on. Just a suggestion," he ended.
	Edith smiled. "He's right, Lance," she said. "He does make sense,
so, perhaps we should listen to him."
	"He is pretty smart," Lance agreed.
	Jonathan grinned and said, "I rest my case."
	The smile disappeared from Lance's face. "My father killed my
mother, didn't he?"
	Edith's eyes suddenly grew very wide and full of emotion. "Your
father was not responsible for your mother's death. It was Sam Thompson. He
was the one who had caused Kathleen so much unhappiness. For so many years
Sam and Agnes carried on, and not always discreetly. Your poor mother,
bless her heart, turned to drinking. She couldn't take the shame any
longer. Samuel Thompson wasn't driving the car that killed your mother, but
it was because of him it happened. Of that, I have absolutely no doubt,"
she finished.
	For a moment the room was silent as each one of them entertained
their own private thoughts. Edith was the first to speak.
	"Lance, may I ask you a question?"
	"Anything," he assured her.
	"What are you plans?"
	Lance was puzzled. "My plans?" he asked.
	She nodded. "About the company," she said.
	"Edith, I've hired a lawyer. I've turned everything over to him."
	"I'm glad you have. It's about time Samuel Thompson got what was
due him."
	"There's a lot of stuff going on." Jonathan went on to say, "I
honestly feel that when everything is said and done, Sam will be completely
out of the picture."
	"He should have charges brought against him," Edith declared.
	"And who knows, that may happen," Jonathan said. "After all, now
that the police have been brought into the picture, no one can say what
will happen."
	"With everything we know, I would think Sam would be looking at a
long stay in prison."
	"I agree," Jon told her. "I have no doubt in my mind that he was
responsible for Mr. Smyth's death, as well as your son's. Still, proving it
may be next to impossible to do."
	Lance looked at the old woman sitting beside him. He knew she was
his grandmother, but at the moment it just didn't seem right to address her
as such. To him, she was still Edith Baxter, the kind lady who had worked
for Samuel Thompson.
	"I agree with Jon, Edith."
	He had decided to, at least for the time being, address her by her
first name. Perhaps later on he could speak otherwise.
	"Edith, if necessary, would you be willing to be a witness if this
goes to a trial?"
	She covered Lance's hands with her on and said, "I am willing to do
whatever it takes to make things right for you, Dear Boy."
	Lance felt his eyes fill with tears, and he quickly brushed his
hand across them, trying to clear his vision. "Thank you. I really
appreciate this."
	They visited for another hour. Finally Jonathan stood to his feet
and said, "Lance, I think maybe we should be leaving. After all, we don't
want to out stay our welcome here." His eyes twinkled as he spoke the
words.
	"Nonsense," Edith exclaimed. "You two are welcomed here any time,
day or not. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
	"Perfectly," Lance said. He leaned over and gently kissed her
cheek. "I am so glad I found you. Really found you," he added softly.
	Edith smiled and brought her hand up to her cheek. She wiped the
tear away that was slowly making its way down. "I am looking forward to
knowing you, Grandson. That is, if you are willing to allow me into your
life. Your lives," she added taking Jonathan in with a look as well.
	"I can think of nothing more that I would enjoy," Lance assured
her.
	Jonathan echoed his agreement and said, "It's going to be a
pleasure knowing you."
	Jonathan followed Lance to the door, but before he walked outside,
he turned and reached out his arms. He embraced Edith to him and said,
"Thank you for allowing me inside your home that very first time. You have
caused all of this to take place."
	"Terry Watkins or Jonathan Davis, who ever you are, I am so
grateful to you. For so many different reasons," she added quietly. "You
have made this old woman very happy. You both have," she said.



>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>



	Jonathan and Lance had been home just a short time from their visit
with Edith Baxter, also known now as "Lance's grandmother", when they
received a telephone call from the police department. Ty Bennett greeted
Lance.
	"Mr. Thompson, Ty Bennett here. Do you have just a moment?"
	"What can I do for you, Mr. Bennett?"
	"Please, call me Ty."
	"Very well, what can I do for you, Ty?"
	"We've heard from your father. He is back in town. Because of the
fire that destroyed his home, he was in touch with his insurance
company. They notified me, and I just wanted you to know I've just spoken
with him. He is dropping by this afternoon. I think you should be here if
at all possible. Can you make it?"
	"I certainly can. What time?"
	"Can you be here in one hour?"
	"We'll be there, Ty."
	Jonathan said, "I take it the police know where your father
is. Sam, I mean."
	Lance nodded. "He's going to the police station in an hour. Ty
wants us to be there as well."
	Because neither of them knew what would take place when they met
Sam Thompson, the hour that passed seemed to crawl by at such a slow pace
they could hardly breathe. However, the minutes finally passed, and
Jonathan and Lance found themselves seated in chairs inside a large room
where lots of different people, both men and women were busy, either
walking back and forth or calling out to others. Everyone seemed to be
doing something, each with a job to do.
	They had been sitting there quite some time when suddenly a loud
voice boomed out at them.
	"So, there you are. Tell me, just what the hell do you think you're
doing?"
	Jonathan looked up and discovered Samuel Thompson standing before
them. The words he spoke were laced with so much anger.
	Lance glared at the man. "Don't you dare speak to me, you bastard."
The words tumbled out defiantly as he spoke.
	"What the hell do you think you're gaining by telling the police
all of these lies?"
	"I'm not the one lying."
	"Jonathan. Lance, how's, it going?"
	Ty Bennet had crossed the room and was standing next to Samuel
Thompson. He turned and said, "Mr. Thompson, I believe we're through for
now. You can leave."
	"I'll leave when I'm through talking to my son," he informed the
policeman.
	"You have no son!" Lance spit at him.
	For just a moment there was just a bit of surprise, even shock, on
the older man's face. His face turned a deep red, and he opened his mouth
as to speak. Then, changing his mind, he said, "I guess I will see you in
court."
	He turned and slowly made his way out of the room.
	After Sam Thompson had disappeared from sight, Ty said, "Why don't
you guys come to my office? I have some things I want to run by you."
		Jonathan and Lance followed the policeman down the
hall. There were two chairs inside the office, and they quickly took a
seat. They watched Ty Bennett shut the door.
	The policeman sat on the corner of his desk. "Okay, here is the
story your father gave us."


End of Part 19

Mark Stevens
Jetdesk2@yahoo.com