Chapter 11

John left the room feeling very good about his morning spent with the children. The bookcase had arrived and they had assembled it as a team. The kids took turns on each of the jobs; one reading the instructions, one bringing the parts, one helping to hold the various parts together, and one to provide the tools when they were needed. John was the only one that used the tools. The kids had a fun time and kept correcting him whenever he was about to make a mistake. He left after it was assembled to allow them a chance to fill it with the books.

A well-dressed gentleman was standing outside the room wiping his eyes with a handkerchief. His well-tailored gray suit spoke of money. He was about 65 years old or so with thin gray hair. He was a little over weight with the build typical of men his age. John asked, “Sir, can I help you in some way?”

The man looked up and said, “You must be John Carter.”

“Yes, I am; and you are?”

The man blew his nose and then put up his handkerchief. He was a little embarrassed at showing emotion in public. He answered, “I’m Fred Maxwell. I donated the bookshelf to the burn unit.”

John reached out with his hand as he said, “I’m very pleased to meet you. Your generosity means a lot to those kids.”

The man’s eyes misted again. He said, “I watched as all of you put it together. That was the nicest thing I have ever seen in my life. The looks of joy on their faces will live with me for the rest of my life.”

“It sounds a little personal for you.”

“You’re observant,” Fred replied.

“Why don’t you come into my room and tell me about it? Maybe I can help.”

Fred stood in the hall for a minute thinking about the offer. He was from a generation that didn’t like to talk about their problems. He was about to refuse the offer, but changed his mind. He had lived with this for more than forty years. He answered, “It just might be time for me to talk about this.”

John led him to his room. Once they entered, John closed the door. Fred sat down in the single chair while John sat on the bed. Fred rested his right ankle on his left knee and sat there playing with the bottom of his pants legs. He stared at his right foot as he thought about his past. John sat there watching Fred work through his internal issues. Finally, Fred broke the silence, “I served in the army during the Korea Conflict.”

“Most Americans under appreciate the conditions that our soldiers experienced there. That was a tough war.” John had heard many stories about that war from people that he had talked with in the past. Many Americans didn’t realize that the war had never ended. There were still casualities because of hostilities at the border between north and south.

“Yes, it was,” replied Fred. He continued, “I ... Well, I carried a flame thrower.”

“That was exceptionally dangerous. One stray bullet and you’d have been the one on fire.”

“I have not had a good night sleep since then. Every night I have nightmares. I see the faces of each and every man that I burned.” Fred sat staring down at the floor lost in his thoughts. Even now, the faces of the men that he had burned floated before his eyes. It was odd, but he had no other memories of Korea. He couldn’t say where he had been stationed or who served with him.

John understood the inner demons that plagued Fred. Because of his sense of duty to country, he had committed acts that rocked the foundation of his moral sense. In a way, it was amazing this man had not reacted violently on his return to the states. John knew that talking wouldn’t save this man from his inner conflict. He needed to work as a means of atonement. He said, “Well, I can tell you a few things that might help you. That is, if you want to hear them.”

Fred looked down at his shoe getting prepared to hear the standard argument. With a sigh, he answered, “Talk away. I’ll do my best to listen.”

John sat there for a minute and then said, “Last year I died.”

Fred looked up and stared at the young man. His expectations had been a few words that he didn’t do anything wrong. He had already made those arguments with himself. He knew it wasn’t his fault that he had been put in that position. It didn’t help. His fingers continued to fondle the hem of his pants, but his attention was focused on John. He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

John nodded and then continued, “That’s right, I died. I can tell you from personal experience, that it’s not bad. In fact, it’s very pleasant.”

The evidence of shock made his voice quaver, “Could you tell me more about it?”

“No, I can’t. Words can’t convey what I felt. Can words adequately explain the horror you feel at what you have done? No, they can’t. Just know that death is the opposite of that kind of horror.”

This answer was not what Fred had been expecting, but he recognized the truth that some things couldn’t be explained to others. He asked, “So what are you trying to say to me?”

“I’m saying that the men that you may have killed are not in pain any more. They are in a different place now; a place that has no room for pain. You don’t have to accept that on faith, but as fact.”

“I can understand that. They are in heaven now,” commented Fred. Religion had become increasingly more important to him. In part, he had wanted to find solace in it from past. In part, he had reached the age where death had become more of a reality and it was through religion that he was attempting to come to grips with his mortality.

“I think if you talk to the people here, you’ll find the rest of the answers that you are looking for. You will find out what it’s like to survive the burn and that, perhaps, will allow you to come to better grips with what you’ve done.”

“I feel like I need more than just answers.”

John smiled and nodded. He could understand Fred’s position and his need for some sort of redemption. He suggested, “Those kids have a bunch of books that someone should read to them. I’m checking out soon and then there will be no one. A new sadness will settle in that room.”

Fred sat quietly lost in private thoughts. He recognized that a need that had been within him for forty years could now be answered. He slowly stood and turned to the door. With soft steps, he left the room without saying another word. John watched him leave. He smiled as he recognized that Fred was a man about to undertake a mission of his own making. It was now only a matter of summoning up sufficient courage.

An hour later a very petite young nurse entered the room. She had short brown hair, green eyes, and oval face. She wore a white skirt rather than the white pants that were the most frequent garb worn by nurses within the hospital. Even with the loose over-shirt, it was easy to tell that she had very small breasts. She had a very nice smile that reminded John of Lily, the woman that had been vacationing by working as a waitress. She broke the silence when she said, “John, I’m Susan.”

“Nice to meet you, Susan. Are you here to collect more blood?”

“Oh, nothing so bad. I’m here to give you a bath.”

John blushed as he thought back to the last sponge bath he had received. He had covered almost the entire hospital looking for Betsy, but no one would tell him how to reach her. He was sure this would be a regular sponge bath. He laughed and said, “Good, I was afraid that I’d die of blood loss if a mosquito bit me when I leave here.”

“So long as you die outside the hospital, it isn’t our fault,” the nurse said with a laugh. She continued, “Now get undressed while I get everything ready.”

John sat there puzzled for a minute and then got undressed down to the hospital gown. He assumed that this is what she meant. In the meantime, the nurse had gone into the bathroom and filled the basin with warm water. John had just returned to the bed when the nurse exited the bathroom. His jaw dropped and his cock rose when he saw that she was completely naked. Her body was thin, but not so thin that her bones showed. She retained a feminine figure. Her breasts were almost non-existent, but her nipples were twice the size of erasers. He had once heard that the nipples on small-breasted women tended to be very sensitive. He wondered if it was true.

She laughed on observing him in the bed. His reaction to her body was given away by the nice tent in his hospital gown. She said, “You’re still dressed, silly. Now take that off while I get everything else ready for your bath.”

John slowly removed his hospital gown. His emotions were divided between embarrassment, desire, and reluctance. His embarrassment arose because of his extremely visible erection. His desire was rooted in the normal sex drive of a healthy male. His reluctance was rooted in his wish that it was Betsy giving him the bath rather than Susan. The sex drive knows no boundaries of right or wrong. It won out as the excitement of a naked woman fueled it.

The sponge bath proceeded very normally. There were no overt sexual advances as she washed his back, legs, arms, and chest. Even when reached his groin, her touch remained professional. She had avoided directly touching his cock and balls. As soon as she finished washing him, she asked, “Well, that wasn’t too bad was it?”

John’s erection had remained through the whole bath. In fact, it had become even harder. As she had moved around, she had given him very nice views of her body. The contrast between the view she presented him and her professionalism while bathing him had a strangely erotic effect. His voice cracked as he said, “Not bad at all.”

She smiled at him and said, “Now we have to increase your blood flow. We don’t want you to get bedsores.”

She proceeded to lightly massage him. Her touches were feather light and brushed his entire body. It sent ripples of pleasure through his body. He was moaning from desire by the time she finished. He was about to relax when she took his cock into her mouth. She started humming as she worked her tongue around all of the sensitive parts of his cock. She paid particular attention to the shaft just below the head. He couldn’t believe how quickly he approached the point of no return. He blurted out, “I’m coming.”

Simultaneously, Susan pulled her mouth from his cock, wrapped a hand around it, and fondled his balls. The multiple changes in sensations delayed his orgasm only by seconds. He came as she massaged his balls with a soft touch. As he recovered from the orgasm, she cleaned the semen off his body.

John said, “Thank you so much. That was incredible. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

“You’re welcome.” She went into the bathroom for a minute while she dressed. John was totally amazed at the quality of the orgasm he had just experienced. Relaxing, he felt happy just to lie there and enjoy the feelings.

Susan came out of the bathroom fully dressed. She gathered the bathing materials and prepared to leave. She smiled over at John and said, “I just wanted to thank you for helping my aunt.”

John asked, “Who was she?”

Susan answered, “Mrs. Sardon”

John nodded as he recalled the woman. She had a panic attack at one of the major department stores in town. He had helped calm her down and helped her to get home. It was a little thing, but he remembered that she had sent him a thank you note.

He replied, “I remember. She’s a very nice lady. She just doesn’t like crowded areas.”

Susan eyes misted as she said, “You really do remember her.”

John smiled and said, “She sent me a thank you note. I really appreciated that.”

Susan said, “She’s kind of old fashioned that way. It would have surprised me if she hadn’t sent you one.”

John sat back and looked at Susan for a moment. He said, “You really care about her, don’t you?”

“Yes, she’s my favorite aunt,” Susan said with a sigh.

She worried about her aunt. The episode in the store had really upset her. That had been the latest in a series of anxiety attacks. She was afraid that her aunt would become housebound. If that happened, she had no idea how she could help her. Her hours at the hospital tended to change from week to week and she always worked overtime. She wouldn’t be able to do anything for her aunt with any kind of regularity.

“And you worry about her anxiety attacks,” John suggested.

“Very much.”