Winter Oranges (39 page)

Jason had a hard time not laughing. “People are buying that crap?”

“Well, they’ve been offered two possible explanations. Either Ben escaped from some doctor-hating cult and decided to camp out in your guesthouse, or he burst forth from a magic snow globe like Athena from Zeus’s split skull. So yeah, they seem to feel the cult’s a reasonable explanation. Plus, who doesn’t love a good cult story? That stuff sells.”

“When you put it that way, it almost makes sense.”

“It’s all thanks to you, really. You telling the paramedic Ben’s family didn’t believe in doctors was what gave us the idea.”

Jason barely remembered the lie rolling off his tongue. So much of what had happened in his driveway was a blur, obscured by fear and the pain in his head. He carefully explored the tender spot on the back of his skull. “What about the paramedics? And the deputy? If the press talks to them—”

But Dylan was already shaking his head. “They’ve been told in no uncertain terms by Sheriff Ross, your lawyer, and the hospital’s lawyers that they can’t say a goddamn word to the media. Not that it matters. Nobody saw anything anyway. They were all too busy picking themselves up off the ground.”

“Thank goodness.” Jason shook his head, stunned that Dylan had gone to such lengths to cover for him and Ben, despite his earlier hostility. Then again, he’d assumed back then that Ben was a figment of Jason’s overwrought mind. Now, he had proof.

And again, it was as if Dylan were reading his mind, because he suddenly moved closer. “Jason, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. I should have believed you.”

Jason forced himself to smile. “Why would you have? I know I sounded crazy.”

Dylan shrugged uncomfortably. “I should have had more faith in you.” He met Jason’s eyes hesitantly. “I was only trying to help. I swear to you, I thought I was doing the right thing, but when I think about how much damage I might have done—”

“But you didn’t. It all worked out.”

Dylan perched uneasily on the edge of Jason’s bed. “That doesn’t excuse it. I might have killed him, and I never would have known you were telling the truth. I would have gone to my grave thinking I’d helped, and you never would have forgiven me.”

“Maybe.” Or maybe eventually Jason would have started to believe Dylan was right. Maybe he would have begun to doubt his own sanity. The thought troubled him, but it didn’t matter. “You didn’t kill him. And thanks to you, he’s free. That might never have happened without you.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Jason leaned back against his pillows, considering. He understood Dylan’s guilt, and he knew that if things had worked out differently, he would have been furious. And yet now, knowing Ben was sleeping peacefully next door, knowing they’d been granted the possibility of a real future together, he didn’t have room in his heart for anything but gratitude. He reached out and took Dylan’s hand.

“You’re forgiven. And more than that, I’m thankful. Whether it worked out the way you intended it to or not, I know your heart was in the right place.” Besides, based on the expression on Dylan’s face, he was going to punish himself enough for both of them anyway.

Dylan moved closer, staring down at where he still held Jason’s hand. “I should congratulate you on your performance after Thanksgiving.” Dylan almost smiled. “Your little breakdown. I feel bad I was the only one who got to see it. You would have won an Oscar.”

Jason laughed, even though it made his head hurt. “I feel bad about that, but you didn’t want the truth. I had to come up with a lie you’d like.”

“Serves me right, I suppose.” Dylan sighed and stood up. “I should leave so you can go see Ben. He woke up once, but they had to sedate him. He had an anxiety attack, and it triggered his asthma. Or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, he’ll be awake soon and it’ll probably go smoother if you’re there.” He flipped his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve checked into a hotel around the corner. Figured I’d stay until you’re discharged, at the very least, so call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Dylan hesitated. Finally took a step forward and put his hand against Jason’s cheek. He leaned down and kissed him gently. “Tell me again that we’re okay.”

“We’re fine. I promise.”

“And all that stuff you said on the phone, about never wanting to see me again?”

“I didn’t want you to show up and think I was nuts. But I’d miss you like crazy.”

“Okay. You know I love you, right?”

“I know. And I love you too.”

“Yeah,” Dylan said softly, and for the first time ever, Jason detected a note of regret in Dylan’s voice. “But not like you used to.”

“No,” Jason admitted. “Not like before.”

“But we’re still friends?”

“More than ever.”

Dylan nodded and kissed Jason again, first his forehead, then the tip of nose, and finally his mouth. His lips lingered on Jason’s, as if he were afraid to step away. “That’s good,” he said at last. “I can live with that.”

“So can I,” Jason whispered to himself as Dylan let himself out of the room. It was nice, knowing he could finally really accept the only thing Dylan had ever offered in the first place: friendship. “So can I.”

Once he knew to ask for John Doe instead of Benjamin Ward, Jason had no trouble getting info on Ben. The nurse who brought his lunch said John Doe was in the room right next door. She also confirmed what Dylan had told him: Ben had awoken once but immediately had such a severe panic attack, the doctors had chosen to sedate him.

She shrugged. “Hopefully he’ll be calmer this time.”

There was no way to explain to the nurse how alarming the entire incident must be for Ben. “Can I go to his room? I think it’ll help if I’m there.”

“Absolutely. You can even try to wake him up if you want. It’s almost time anyway.”

Jason eyed his lunch plate. He wasn’t hungry, but after a hundred and fifty years, Ben probably would be.

The remnants of the globe sat in a jumble on the rolling table in Ben’s room. Ben was still asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly. And for the first time, Jason noted color in Ben’s cheeks, a soft-pink tinge against his sickly pallor. He really did look like Sleeping Beauty. With the help of modern medicine and a bit of sunlight, he’d be absolutely stunning.

“Hey,” Jason said softly, kissing Ben’s forehead. “You can wake up now.”

Ben’s eyelids flickered and slowly drifted open. His gaze landed on the bank of monitors by the bed. He turned slowly, his eyes wide, until his gaze landed on Jason.

“Is this real?”

“It is.”

Ben closed his eyes and put his hand over his chest. “Oh my God,” he breathed. Not in surprise or joy or wonder, but in fear. His breathing became rapid. The beeps from the heart monitor sped up.

“Hey,” Jason soothed, stroking Ben’s arm. “Calm down. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“No, it isn’t. I don’t want to wake up. I wish I could sleep forever.”

It was the last thing Jason had expected to hear. “Why would you want that?” he asked, taking Ben’s hand. “It’s okay. You’re going to be fine.”

Ben shook his head. His chin trembled, and he pulled his hand away to cover his face. “I’m not fine. I’m going crazy. I can smell everything. I can taste
everything
! I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t handle it. I can taste
the air
, Jason, and it’s horrible. Even when I was sleeping, I felt bombarded, like I couldn’t get away from all the sensations!” He shuddered. “A hundred and fifty years I’ve dreamed of escaping that place, and now . . .” He laughed in a way that spoke more of heartbreak than humor. “I can’t handle it! I’m already going mad.”

“No, you’re not.” Jason scooped him up and held him close, cradling him in his arms, and Ben nestled closer, his whole body trembling. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, but you’re not going mad. You’re overwhelmed. It’s completely understandable after spending so long in the globe with no sounds and no smells. But you’ll get your bearings soon.”

“What if I don’t?”

“You will. I promise. Just relax. You lived in the real world for nearly twenty-one years, remember?”

Ben’s laugh was heart-wrenching. “I guess I did. And it probably smelled a lot worse there than here.”

“Probably.” Jason held him for several long minutes, rubbing his back and making soothing sounds until Ben’s breathing slowed to normal, and his muscles softened as he calmed down. “Everything’s going to be fine,” Jason assured him quietly. “Maybe instead of focusing on the scary parts, you can try to focus on the good parts.”

Ben’s arms tightened around Jason’s chest. “Like this?”

“Exactly.”

Ben laughed, sounding a bit more sincere this time. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I was about to say the same thing to you.”

Ben wiped his cheeks and drew back a bit to meet Jason’s eyes. “What happened? I remember him throwing the globe down, but after that . . .”

“The glass cracked. It was small, but it was enough that water leaked out. You started screaming. I didn’t know what was happening, except you were calling for help—”

“I was dying. That’s all I knew, that I was dying, and after so many years of wishing it would happen, I suddenly wanted nothing more than to keep living, even if it meant staying trapped. But then . . .” Ben shuddered, holding one hand over his chest. “The next thing I remember, I was being lifted into the ambulance. What happened? What did you do?”

Jason remembered that moment, being overwhelmed by grief and horror, clutching the snow globe in his hands. He picked up the base and hefted it, wondering at how light and insubstantial it was without the globe attached. “I felt so helpless, sitting there knowing you were in trouble, knowing I could never get to you in time, and then I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

Jason handed him the base of the globe and pointed to the letters on the bottom. “I thought at first they were just random scratches, but once I saw it in the shifting light, I realized those scratches were deliberate. You said if your sister had left instructions, they would have been clear, and you were right. She tried to change the first two letters of ‘shake.’”

Ben turned the base this way and that, studying the faint letters. After a moment, comprehension dawned and with it, a sarcastic smile. “‘Brake globe’? B-R-A-K-E? Are you telling me I was trapped in that place for a hundred and fifty years because my sister didn’t know how to spell?”

Jason laughed. “Well, even if she’d spelled it right, it’s unlikely any of the previous owners would have followed the instructions.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“At least we know she tried. And the truth is, if I hadn’t been so desperate, I’m not sure I would have been brave enough to smash it anyway. I would have been too worried about losing you.”

Ben shook his head in wonder. “And we owe it all to Dylan.”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

Ben set the globe aside and met Jason’s eyes hesitantly. “Have you seen him?”

“Yes. For what it’s worth, he’s incredibly penitent. I think you’ll be able to hold this over his head for the rest of our lives.”

Ben’s laugh seemed fragile, but sincere. “Good idea. I think I will. I think I—” He gasped, clapping his hands to his cheeks in surprise. Tears welled up in his eyes, but Jason knew by Ben’s tentative smile that these were tears of joy. “The rest of my life. Oh my God.
My
life, Jason! A real life!”

“Yes.” Jason leaned forward and kissed him. “Starting now. Perfect timing too. You know what day it is?”

Ben glanced around, his smile growing as it dawned on him. “It’s Christmas!”

“It is.” Jason reached over to the rolling table and picked up the gift he’d brought. He held it out to Ben. “The doctor says liquids only, but luckily, this counts. Merry Christmas.”

Ben stared down at the little plastic cup filled with Jell-O. He laughed in delight and sang, “‘See it wiggle. See it jiggle.’”

Maybe Ben
had
gone mad. “What?”

“The commercials! Don’t you remember?” He lifted the cup to his nose and sniffed. His stomach grumbled audibly in response, and Ben clapped his hand over it. “Oh my gosh. I’m hungry! I forgot how it feels.” He looked toward the table. “Is there a spoon?”