Chapter 20: Hope for a Calm and Peaceful Future

May 14, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

"What time did you finally get home last night?" Clarissa asked when we met in the medical school parking lot on Wednesday morning.

"10:45pm. The surgery lasted six hours, and they found a malignant tumor. It was cool to watch, and Doctor Roth believes he got all of the tumor. He didn't find any evidence that the tumor had metastasized."

"But why emergency surgery?"

"Because it had caused a bowel obstruction. How was study group?"

"We discussed going to three times a week until the new semester starts — Sunday and Monday evenings and Thursday afternoon. That keeps your Tuesday open for surgeries, as well as Wednesday for church."

"Cool. What about studying for our anatomy final?"

"Between the review in class and three study sessions per week, all of us should be just fine."

"Then I'm OK with that. Missing study groups hasn't caused me any trouble. Neither has missing class, but this is the calm before the storm, so to speak."

"Surprisingly, I think the next year is going to be relatively easy."

"They've stopped trying to wash us out," I replied. "They got rid of the fully unqualified students with the grueling anatomy labs. Now they'll let our clinical work and the MLE do the washing out."

"True."

"And speaking of potentially stressful tests, how is Sandy?"

"Not good. Fran and I spoke before study group about whether less study would cause Sandy to stress more."

"I just don't understand," I replied.

"That's rich coming from you, Petrovich, given how stressed you were when I first met you."

"Point taken," I replied. "But once I got into the swing of things, I relaxed."

"Bullshit!" Clarissa exclaimed. "It took regular beatings before you chilled out! And regular sex!"

"There might be some truth to that," I allowed.

"That's what helped Sandy through undergrad."

"OK, and she has Pete now," I countered.

"Maybe he's lousy in the sack," Clarissa suggested.

"It takes two to tango, Lissa."

"Yes, but that means communicating, right?"

"It does," I agreed.

"You're easy to talk to; I never got that impression from Pete. Or Jason, for that matter. Peter is easy to talk to."

"I suppose that could be part of it, but none of us can really interfere in their relationship. All we can do is suggest counseling, which I know you and Fran have."

"Maybe you could talk to Sandy."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea for several reasons. I could talk to Pete, but I've done that, and he's at a loss for how to help Sandy beyond what he's doing. I think it might be best if you or Fran approach Dean Worth."

"That could end badly."

"Could it? Sandy is keeping her grades up, so I can't see the administration doing anything other than trying to help her with counseling and guidance."

"Let me speak with Fran and see what she thinks."

"OK."

"Good morning, Deacon!" Maryam exclaimed, coming up to us. "Good morning, Clarissa!"

"Good morning, Maryam," I replied.

"Did you enjoy your surgery?" she asked.

"If only," I chuckled. "But it was cool watching, and I learned quite a bit. I have three pages of notes."

"Will you share?"

"Of course."

We went into the building and joined our other three friends in the cafeteria. A few minutes later, we headed to class. We were in the review stage, so only about half the class attended. We'd have our final exam in just under two weeks, and that would occupy my 'free' time, as well as our study group's reduced time. Clarissa and I had to leave thirty minutes early so we could attend what was likely the last hearing before Frank Bush's trial.

"Hi, Robby," I said when Clarissa and I arrived on the second floor of the courthouse. "How are you?"

"Same as when I saw you on Saturday — I ache all over, but I can move around a bit more and am allowed to walk short distances on my crutches."

"What am I?" Sophia asked. "Chopped liver?"

I chuckled, "Liver is not something I'd willingly eat!"

Sophia, Clarissa, and Robby all laughed.

"Wow, Petrovich! Not something I'd expect you to say wearing that cassock!"

"In this small group, I have a bit more freedom. Hi, Sophia!"

"I was just yanking your ... chain!"

"Shall we go into the courtroom before Mike gets into REAL trouble?" Robby suggested.

Sophia pushed Robby's wheelchair into the courtroom; then I helped him onto one of the benches. Sophia wheeled the chair to the back of the courtroom, collapsed it, and put it behind the last row of benches. The court staff and judge were on time, as usual, and after the standard preliminaries, a handcuffed and shackled Frank Bush was led to the defense table.

"Are both sides prepared for the pre-trial conference?" the judge asked.

"Yes, Your Honor," Mr. Taft said. "The people are ready for trial on the first available date."

"Your Honor," Mr. Robbins said, "We've tried, without any success, to negotiate with the State so as to avoid a lengthy, complicated trial. They've been completely unwilling to negotiate."

"Mr. Taft?"

"The State believes it has an ironclad case, with sufficient evidence for premeditation, including lying in wait to commit homicide, to secure a guilty verdict for capital murder, and to secure a sentence of death. Contrary to the defense claims, the trial should, based on our estimates, last no more than three days, including jury selection. There is nothing at all complicated, and we do not believe the defense has any evidence which contradicts what the State has submitted under discovery. In addition, we find no mitigation of any kind. Finally, one of the victims, who was severely injured and who I see here in court, has voiced opposition to any negotiated plea."

"Your Honor," Mr. Robbins said, "the State is well aware that the alleged victim has no rights with regard to a plea bargain, although he would be able to submit a statement or testify during a potential penalty phase."

"Mr. Robbins is correct," Mr. Taft stated. "But Mr. Jackson is, without question, one of the people who I am sworn to protect and to whom I answer. The prosecution believes that the people have expressed their will through the State Legislature, and that, too, supports the State's position."

"Mr. Robbins," the judge said, "I cannot force the prosecution down any specific path, nor do I see any violation of Mr. Bush's rights, given the expressed will of the people through the legislature. As an elected judge, I, too, am responsible to the people of this county to see that justice is done, and justice requires a fair trial before a jury of Mr. Bush's peers, the appointment of counsel if required, and a presumption of innocence.

"Charges and pleas are left to prosecutorial discretion. The State has proposed three days for a trial. I believe that will be sufficient, based on the witness lists submitted by both sides in advance of this hearing. Are there any motions or other matters before I set a trial date?"

"No, Your Honor," Mr. Taft said. "The people are ready at the earliest date available."

"Nothing, Your Honor," Mr. Robbins said, sounding resigned.

"Looking at the calendar, the first three-day block available would be July 22nd to 24th. If there are no objections, the clerk will issue the order setting the trial date.

"No objections, Your Honor," Mr. Taft declared.

"No objection," Mr. Robbins agreed.

"Then the clerk will issue the order. Mr. Bush, I will see you here at 9:00am on July 22nd for jury selection to be followed immediately by trial. You are remanded to the custody of the Sheriff and will remain in segregation."

He banged the gavel, and Frank Bush was led away. Sophia fetched Robby's wheelchair, I helped him into it, then the four of us left the courtroom.

"Lunch?" Robby asked.

"Sure," I agreed. "If Clarissa is OK with missing the first part of our afternoon class."

"I am," she said. "Almost nobody is showing up for the Practice of Medicine course now that we're doing reviews."

"Robby, when did you speak with the prosecutor?" I asked.

"The first time was right after they arrested the asshole. I spoke to him again yesterday to confirm I want them to fry the bastard."

"An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind," I replied.

"With all due respect, fuck Gandhi!" Robby growled. "I know you object to the death penalty on spiritual grounds, but Lee is dead, man, and that fucker has to pay!"

"I believe life in prison would be a worse punishment because every single day, he'll remember what he did that put him there."

"We'll have to agree to disagree," Robby replied. "I want to send a message. You know he did it because of our sexual orientation. It's no different from the other murders and assaults I've told you about. It's time to draw a line. And that alleged church of his ought to be shut down."

"I hear quite a few people have left," I said. "So perhaps it collapses like the house of cards it is. Or, more Biblically, like anything built on sand."

"They teach hate," Robby protested.

I nodded, "They do, and they pervert the Gospel, but the First Amendment protects their right to do so. If the government could shut them down, they could shut down any church, which is the entire point of the 'Free Exercise' clause. You know my answer — you respond to hate with love."

"It won't work on bigots," Robby said firmly.

I shrugged, "Maybe not, but it is the only way that is consistent with the Gospel and the First Amendment. I'll agree to disagree if we can drop this and return to our regularly scheduled silliness!"

"I vote 'yes' on that!" Sophia declared.

"Me, too!" Clarissa agreed.

"Sorry," Robby said. "I didn't mean to upset you, Sophia."

"You didn't."

We left the building and after I helped Sophia with Robby and his wheelchair, she got into her car, and Clarissa and I got into mine, and we headed to Frisch's for lunch. We ate fairly quickly, as Sophia, Clarissa, and I all had to get to afternoon classes.

When I eventually left campus, I headed home for a quick meal with Elizaveta.

"We're going to study only on Sunday and Monday evenings until the new semester starts," I said. "Well, and Thursday afternoons, but that doesn't really affect you."

"Is that enough?" Elizaveta asked.

"Yes. I'll still study on my own, but you and I will have a bit more time together than we do now, which is a good thing. Well, I hope it is!"

Elizaveta laughed, "As if you could get rid of me if you wanted to!"

"I most decidedly do not!"

"More time with you is always good, Mike. Always. What happened in court today?"

"The prosecutor is convinced he can win easily, and he's not backing off on wanting the death penalty. That's in line with what Robby wants."

"What do you think?"

"I think the prosecution has Frank Bush 'bore-sighted' and is locked and loaded. I can't imagine what kind of defense he will use, given there is no chance of an insanity plea. They have evidence of him 'lying in wait', and he admitted planning the murder to his wife in the presence of his daughter. I wish the State would agree to life without parole, or better, 25 to life."

"You think he should get out of prison?"

"I think anyone can be redeemed. He'd have at least twenty-five years to repent, and then it would be up to a parole board to decide if he could safely be released. He'd be in his seventies before he got out. And I'd make sure our prison ministry visited him."

"Now THAT would be torture for him!" Elizaveta declared.

"God's energies are a refining fire to those who love God, and work together with Him according to His purpose. They are torture for those who hate Him."

"You think Frank Bush hates God?"

"I can't say anything other than that Frank Bush is a sinner, as we all are, and he, like all of us, is called to repentance. What he does with that call is up to him."

"I suppose so," Elizaveta replied. "What are we doing after Vespers?"

"I'll leave that up to you!"

"I can think of one or two things I want to do!"

"I'm sure you can!"

May 15, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

"How was your surgery on Tuesday?" Doctor Gibbs asked when Elizaveta and I arrived at her apartment on Thursday evening.

"Long! I just wish I could have done something, even hold a retractor, but I know the law."

"Follow it because violating it means you'd likely never get your license. Practicing medicine without a license is a basic disqualification, as you can't be trusted."

"That makes sense. How is the ER?"

"The usual blood and gore, separated by long stints of boring cases!"

"No fire-breathing firemen?" I asked.

Both Doctor Gibbs and Bobby laughed.

"No serious fires in the past month or so," he said. "At least during my duty shifts. We had three traffic accidents today, plus a full cardiac arrest."

"How'd he do?"

"The captain called the coroner because flogging someone who's been down for twelve minutes is basically useless, and if by some miracle he came around, he'd be so mentally impaired that there would be no quality of life."

"I thought you usually tried."

"It depends. In this case, no breathing, no heartbeat, and his pupils were fixed and dilated. His co-workers found him on the floor of his office, so it's possible he was down longer than the ten minutes it took for us to arrive."

"Nobody tried CPR?" I asked.

"Nobody in the small office where he worked was qualified. I honestly doubt if it would have mattered. But enough shop talk! How are you two doing?"

"Great!" Elizaveta interjected. "School is out in two weeks, and I'll have the Summer off. Mike and I are going to Seattle with some friends to see one of Mike's friends from High School who works for Boeing. Unfortunately, that's the only time Mike has off; he has to be back to school on June 9th."

"You're doing OK with how much time he has to spend at school, the hospital, and studying?"

"I knew what I was signing up for," she replied with a smile. "And we actually have more time than I expected right now because his coursework is easier."

"The calm before the storm!" Doctor Gibbs declared.

"That's exactly what I said to Clarissa yesterday," I interjected. "Things are going pretty well, really. I'm earning honors in all my coursework, and Elizaveta and I have settled into married life pretty well."

"Meaning you do what you're told, right?" Bobby asked with a grin.

"All Orthodox men do," I chuckled. "Which is why they drink heavily!"

"Hey!" Elizaveta protested.

"Talk with my grandfather sometime!" I replied.

"Forget that! I've heard my own grandfathers complain, and they have nothing to complain about."

"I take it this is a conversation which has been repeated many times?" Bobby asked.

"For nearly two thousand years," I chuckled. "But, to be honest, Elizaveta isn't usually demanding."

The buzzer rang, indicating that the pizza had arrived, and two minutes later we sat down to eat a large pepperoni pizza, washed down with Cokes.

"What Preceptorship do you have after your break?" Doctor Gibbs asked.

"Internal medicine," I replied. "Then radiology, cardiology, pathology, and I finish with back-to-back stints with a GP."

"Around December, you'll need to start mapping out your clinical work. I'd be happy to help you."

"I'd appreciate that."

We finished our pizza, then watched The Flamingo Kid on Doctor Gibbs' VCR. When the movie finished, Elizaveta and I headed home.

"So when am I demanding?" she asked once we got into the car.

I chuckled, "When you want to have sex! You do not take 'no' for an answer!"

"As if YOU would ever say 'no'! You like it at least as much as I do!"

"I very much like making love to my teenage wife!"

"And in three years?" she asked.

"I'll enjoy making love to my twenty-year-old wife, who will be the mother of at least one child!"

"Probably October is when we start trying. That way, the baby would be born in late June or early July, after graduation, assuming we get it right the first time!"

"That's fine by me," I replied. "The timing is totally up to you, though, as we discussed, graduating before you have a baby is a good idea. And if we don't, we just keep on trying!"

"What do you think of two years between babies?"

"I think that's a good plan. And after two, we discuss another?"

"Yes. I think four is the right number, but let's have two and then decide! And tonight, we practice!"

May 16, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

On Friday, after classes, I hurried to Saint Michael the Archangel for Larisa's baptism. I was thankful that Tasha had scheduled it in the afternoon, because I was concerned about missing even more class, even though it hadn't affected my grades or evaluations. Normally, the baptism would have been done on Sunday morning, but Nik was a stickler for certain traditions, including baptism on the fortieth day. He had, though, lost the battle with Tasha, with her staying away from the church, a tradition that had mostly fallen out of practice in modern times.

I met Father Nicholas in the nave so we could say our entrance prayers, though in an abbreviated form, as we were not serving a Divine Liturgy. When we finished our prayers, we went to the vestry to put on our clerical garb. We'd wear white, both because we were still in the Paschal season but also because it was the traditional color for baptism at any time of the liturgical year.

"I should have asked you sooner," Father Nicholas said, "but what are your plans for tomorrow?"

"My father-in-law and I were planning to drive to Columbus together. I'm sure he'd be happy for you to ride with us. Nik is driving Tasha and will watch Larisa during the meeting."

"And what do your sources tell you?"

"There's a very good chance Father Jeremiah might gain the necessary votes on the first ballot, though it will be close."

"Let's pray there are no controversies and that he is elected and approved. Our diocese needs peace."