A Mother Knows

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A mother rattles a few cages.

Sequel to: Out of the Depths.

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“David.”

The soft, gentle voice drew him from his self-imposed exile of despair. His head raised itself from its prayerful posture. His empty eyes focused on the visitor and as recognition slowly penetrated, the hand he had been keeping contact with was carefully replaced on the bed. His first attempt to rise had to be repeated, but finally he turned his aging body to address the visitor.

“Mrs. Hutchinson.”

The elegant woman barely kept her distressful cry at his appearance to herself. Surely this wasn’t the vibrant energetic scamp she had met several years ago.

“Oh David.”

Her astonished sympathetic emotion spoke to him, and as she approached, her arms reaching automatically for him, he could no longer restrain his need for comfort. He literally threw himself into those welcoming arms. She barely had strength enough to support the sudden dead weight of the man who then proceeded to weep bitter anguished tears.

Eventually she could make sense of his words that came out in gulps between his sobs.

“I should have been with him. It should have been me. Oh god, he’s gonna die; he’s gonna die…” His voice drifted off, locked in that chant.

Firmly and almost violently she forced him back, her hands of steel shaking his shoulders and breaking through the fog.

“David. David. Look at me.” The cold, stony command in her voice forced him to raise his head in shock and surprise.

“He is not going to die David. He is not going to die.”

When intelligent processes seemed to return to his eyes she continued. “I have spoken to the doctors, and although Ken is seriously injured he is off the critical list. He is not going to die. You hear me David.”

In embarrassed shame and guilt Starsky could only nod in reply. Taking several deep breaths he slowly extricated himself from Hutch’s mother’s grip, and dipping his head in exhausted fatigue he mumbled, “I’ll leave you alone” and made a move to leave.

“No, stay.” She possessively grasped his hand and led the way to the bed where her son lay motionless, pale and surrounded by medical paraphernalia. She trembled and weakened then, only Starsky’s suddenly strong arm providing the strength and support she needed.

A hand reached out to caress the pale face and she closed her eyes in silent prayer and thankfulness. He was alive, and the doctors promised a slow but full recovery. She had to believe. Had to hope. She whispered those thoughts to her son.

“Ken. It’s mother. David is with me and we want you to know we love you. Oh baby, please, please hear me. We are praying for you. I love you so much. You have all our strength, all our hope. Don’t you dare leave us, don’t you dare.”

Emotion overcame her and she allowed Starsky to guide her to a chair, quickly supplying water and tissues while she recovered. The woman who looked at him several minutes later was back in control.

“O.K. David let’s go.”

“Go.” Stammered a startled Starsky. “I can’t go, he might wake up, he might…” his voice trailed off, refusing to speak the horrible alternative.

“David he will be O.K. I know it. I feel it. We’ll have a nurse sit with him for a little while. Let’s take a walk.”

Numbly Starsky did as he was bid, casting a long last look at Hutch as he left. He waited like an obedient child while Mrs. Hutchinson had words with the desk staff, then followed as she confidently strode to the elevator and then out of the building.

Starsky made an attempt at rebellion.

“Mrs. Hutchinson…”

“Helen, please.”

“Helen, we can’t leave.”

“Yes we can. The nurse said there is a nice little restaurant just around the corner.”

Several minutes later two emotionally drained people sat across from each other in a surprisingly comfortable homey restaurant. Helen ordered them both strong drinks and what she described as comfort food. Starsky sat oblivious, in what was for him, the close equivalent of shell shock.

She slowly drew out of him the circumstances of Hutch’s injury, refusing to allow him to wallow in self-pity. As she heard about the robbery and murder of the two older proprietors of the shop, she watched the transformation as David became more animated and alive. More positive.

“David, how long has it been since you ate or slept?”

Starsky blinked at the sudden change in direction, but was prevented from answering by the arrival of their food: a large burger and fries for him, and a tuna sandwich for Helen.

He gave Helen a knowing Starsky special smile. “Someone’s been telling tales, you know me too well.”

Helen’s return smile melted Starsky’s heart it was so much like Hutch’s.

“Ken does seem to talk about you a lot David. Now answer my question.”

Ducking his head hoping to escape his too personal reasons for answering, he picked up his burger and began to eat. Helen allowed him his evasion for the moment as they both tackled the meal before them. Over coffee, his confidence restored, he acknowledged Helen’s too-much-like-Hutch strategy and began to talk.

“I couldn’t leave him Helen, just as he wouldn’t have left me. We’re partners and we need each other. I couldn’t face not being there if the worst happened. Not being able to say goodbye. I haven’t left him since he was admitted. God, that was three days ago.” A weary hand washed over his face.

“Thank you for that David. You love him, don’t you?”

Starsky’s head jerked up, and an angry glint appeared in his eye and his voice.

“Of course I love him. He’s my best friend. We care for each other, watch out for each other.”

A calming hand covered his. “I know that David, Ken has basically said the same thing over the years.”

“Then why ask when you already know I would do anything for him.”

“That’s not what I meant. David, are you in love with Ken?”

The shocked look David gave her was quickly followed by a brilliant red blush that once again drove his head down to examine the now cleared table.

“Helen, I…” he couldn’t say it, or look at her.

“David, please look at me.”

Gathering courage from the compassion in her voice, he looked at her straight on.

“Yes, I love him. But he doesn’t know. It snuck up on me Helen,” apology in his voice, “and it just about killed me when I thought I might lose him. I’m sorry.”

“David, don’t be sorry. There is nothing wrong with loving someone.” She thoughtfully stared into her coffee and continued. “For some time now I’ve had my suspicions about Ken’s feelings for you.”

A small smile accompanied her next statement.

“I must admit that I was at first ashamed, scared and feeling betrayed at the thought of his loving you. Denial was my haven, but as time went on and I forced myself to examine and accept it I could see that what Ken needed he found in you. It was not easy, nor did it seem fair and I’m still afraid, but David more than anything I want my son to be happy and safe. I couldn’t leave him here if I didn’t know that he had someone who loved him looking after him.”

Throughout Helen’s speech Starsky had sat in stunned silence. Hutch loved him? Could it be true? If Hutch’s mother said so, it must be true. Damn, he was so stupid, and cowardly, and blind and…

Suddenly the sun came out in full blinding force and he reached across to cup both her hands in his.

“Helen, you have to know that I would do anything to keep him safe and give him what he wants. I haven’t even begun to figure this out yet, but if you are right, I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”

“I’m right David, and if you know Ken at all, and I believe you do, then you know what you are in for.”

A totally sappy, totally knowledgeable grin glowed from Starsky. “Yeah, I know.”

One week later, a rejuvenated Starsky bounced into Hutch’s room after delivering his mother to the airport. During that week they had stood protection over Ken like guardian angels, each secure in their love for the man.

When Hutch had finally opened his eyes Starsky fairly beamed, embracing every nurse and doctor who dared to step foot in the room. Every surface was covered with teddy bears and flowers, and he carried on like a demented elf. Nothing could keep the smile off his face. Through his drug induced haze Hutch merely shuddered and went back to sleep.

Three weeks later when a still beaming Starsky entered the room he found a very sullen, brooding Hutch, and signs of tears were evident. His first thought was that Hutch was in pain. He had healed enough to have most of the medical apparatus removed, but still felt weighted down with the concrete on his arm and leg and his inability to move even a muscle without a reminder of his ordeal. And a frustrated, helpless Hutch was not a pretty sight. But this was different. Hutch refused to look at him, barely acknowledging his arrival.

“What’s the matter buddy, wouldn’t they let you have your favourite seaweed for lunch?”

It took Starsky ten minutes to get a response.

“My mother.”

“Your mother! What’s wrong with your mother?” the urgency and dread in Starsky’s voice got through to Hutch.

“Nothings wrong Starsk.”

“When what about your mother?”

“She called.”

“And.”

“We had a long talk.”

Oh. Oh. Helen had asked Starsky to wait before unburdening himself to Hutch and Starsky had agreed, not knowing what she had in mind. ‘I guess this is it,’ he thought.

“I say again, and…”

“Starsk, it shouldn’t be like this.”

Starsky’s heart fell into his stomach.

“Like what babe.”

Hutch finally looked him in the eye.

“A proposal shouldn’t come from a guys mother.”

Shocked silence.

“A proposal?”

The most angelic beautiful smile Starsky had ever seen graced Hutch’s face.

“Yes dummy, a proposal. It seems my mother put into words what I could not. Are you ready?”

The question brought only a nod from Starsky and an urgent need for closeness. With his good hand Hutch drew Starsky’s left hand to his lips and gently kissed the palm. Starsky was drowning in the passion and emotion that Hutch’s eyes were swimming in.

“I love you, David. I want to be yours and yours alone. Will you have me?”

“Ken, I love you. I will always be yours. I promise you.”

A century later, Starsky stirred enough to place a tender loving kiss on Hutch’s lips and then to gently rest his head on Hutch’s shoulder as Hutch’s hand made loving forays through his hair.

“Hutch, I can’t believe your mother.” It was said with awe and love.

“Me neither, love. Me neither.”

Is there anything better or more beautiful in this world than mother love?