Chapter 16

The White House used serious juice to get me a G-6500 for the trip to Branson. Up until the last minute, I thought I was going to have a companion, but Carole backed out early Thursday morning. The idea of riding on a government jet didn't appeal to her as much as I thought it would. Constance had a fight with her boss, because he was under the impression that I couldn't so much as use the men's room without her company. Eventually he gave up when she informed him that attorney client confidentiality was a serious part of her reluctance to fly to Branson with me.

The plane was new, tricked out beautifully, and the Air Force assigned a nurse/hostess to "look after" me. Apparently they were very concerned that a sixteen-year-old injured boy, who got that way trying to save the President of the United States, deserved exceptional care and sent an exceptional woman to do the looking after.

Elin was Swedish, blonde, gentle, and motherly. She smothered me with kindness and care.

When we were airborne, she served me a hot breakfast, complete with fresh fruit and a selection of berries that made my mouth water. Almost before I finished eating, she handed me a hot towel to clean my face and hands.

After my meal, Elin spent a long time massaging my head wounds, softly crooning comforting Swedish phrases, while exploring the surgical site, asking questions about my injuries and treatment. She seemed sad to see the evidence of the violence done to my body and was determined to make up for it in any way she could.

When I yawned a little while later, Elin took me by the hand and personally tucked me into the rear cabin's double bed, promising to wake me in plenty of time to freshen up before landing. As I allowed myself to relax, I was aware that she took a seat just outside the cabin curtain in case I needed anything. Whoever made the arrangements must have thought I was at death's door.

As much as I enjoyed being mothered, I wondered just what the White House was telling people about me. I decided to press Constance about it when I got back to D.C.

When the jet taxied up to the Fixed Base Operator, I saw a uniformed Federal Marshall obviously waiting for the plane. That caused me to wonder if something had changed, or if I was in some danger. When the door opened and I stepped out with my small suit-bag, the Marshall came directly to me and asked, "Are you Kevin Townsend?"

I smiled and said, "Yes sir. How can I help you?"

He stopped for just a moment, clearly not expecting courtesy, and said, "The White House has canceled your car reservation and ordered our office to transport and assist you while you are in Branson. If you'll come this way, my car is the black Suburban parked over there," he pointed to it beside the security fence.

We didn't have to walk far, and once I was seated and belted in, the driver said, "I understand I am taking you to the law office of James Bell. Is that correct?"

"Yes. Do you need the address? I have it handy."

"Mr. Townsend, When the White House calls directly and gives us an order we tend to be rather detail oriented about being prepared. The Bells were quite helpful to the Gray Administration, and we were proud to help them as they came and went from D.C. I am quite familiar with their office and home. You just sit back and enjoy the ride, and I'll have you there in a jiffy."

He wasn't lying. When the Suburban cleared the airport fence, we were met by two Missouri State Police cruisers that led us painlessly to Jim's office at well above the posted speed limit.

When we pulled up, I started to hop out, but my driver spoke sharply. "Please Mr. Townsend. Protocol requires us to protect you while you are in our care. Let me confirm that everything is ready for you inside, and I'll be right back. While he was gone, both Troopers exited their cars and stood in front and behind the Suburban to prevent any difficulty.

Soon he was back. The Suburban door was opened, and I was escorted inside and presented to Jim and Colleen.

Their faces fell when they saw my bandages, and realized that they were dealing with another injured teenager. It hurt my heart to see them so sad.

Colleen shook it off and said, "Kevin, I am Colleen Fleming, and this is my father, Jim Bell. We are very glad to finally meet you. Various executives from D.C. have hounded us about how to treat you ever since you called us.

"Now that we've met, I can tell that as usual, everyone has overreacted, and that you are a normal young man, who's had a head injury. You need a little consideration, but not the mothering they prepared us to do. I'll bet the mothering is driving you nuts..."

Jim stuck out his hand and said, "Shake," which I did. He smiled and led the way to their conference room. We settled ourselves around the gleaming glass table, and Colleen was ready with a legal pad to sketch out my expectations.

"Hi," I said carefully. "You don't recognize me because I looked very different the last time we saw each other, but I am Carl. You already guessed that. I could tell by the look on your faces when I walked in. Please don't act like strangers, and would you both PLEASE give me a hug?"

I stood up, wobbled momentarily, and held out my arms for them both.

Colleen shrieked out, "I knew it," then got herself under control, and Jim beamed like a new father. We hugged and hugged for so long; I got over tired and lost my balance.

When I fell back against the table for support, Jim and Colleen grabbed me and helped me to the chair. We were all crying. Colleen kept hugging me, even when I was slumped in the chair.

There was so much to talk about, but we had to be careful with a Federal Marshall in the outer office, so we kept it down.

"When did you know you were ... you?" Colleen asked.

"I knew the second I woke up, baby doll, but I was in pretty rough shape and nowhere near able to make contact. The bullet tore across Kevin's skull, blasting a huge number of bone fragments into the brain tissue, none of which are operable.

"As much as I hate to say it, I'm not going to live long."

The energy went out of them both, and it hurt me to see them slump like they did.

"Colleen, as much as I love you and Jim and everybody else, it was a hard decision to make contact, knowing I was bringing this down on you after you just finished seeing me die.

"I'm so sorry.

"So sorry..."

They needed time to take it all in, and I gave it to them. When I felt they'd had plenty of opportunity to absorb my news, I asked, "How are the babies, Millie, Rebecca, Regina, Beth Ann, and Benjamin? Did you miss me? Did you wonder if I was already back? Are you glad to see me? Say something. You're killing me with silence..."

Colleen sniffled, and Jim took the lead.

"Millie is doing well, but misses you very much. Regina is deeply confused, depressed, and not taking your death well at all. I'm not certain how she will handle you coming back. We might need to have a conversation about that before we make any moves or let them know.