Without You I Have Nothing

It was late the following morning. Jennifer was lying on her back, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, making no sound at all. Even when Peter spoke, it was as though she was deaf, as she didn't react. Her eyes showed no brief gleam of recognition and she didn't answer.

The surgeon ushered Peter out of the room as the nurse prepared Jennifer for surgery. On the verandah, the surgeon explained.

"Whoever did this to her needs to be brought to justice. The bastards have done extensive damage. We've x-rayed her and at least we can repair her physical body. She should be her old self after we remove the rings and we give her time to heal.

"What really worries me is her state of mind. She's acting like a zombie right now, but I won't be much help with her mental condition until we get the results of her blood tests to see what drugs they administered to her. You must rest, Peter. She won't be out of surgery until late this afternoon."

The clear sound of the small company chopper interrupted their conversation. It rose and, flying low, raced southwards.

The unexpected noise startled Peter.

Inquisitively, he raised his head to follow the chopper with his eyes.

Noticing Peter's un-stated query the surgeon explained. "Don't be shocked Peter. The chopper's gone to collect a friend, a plastic surgeon to help. By the time we're finished, as I said, she will be your Jennifer once more." With a pat on his shoulder, the surgeon turned and walked back inside.

Against the hospital fence was Peter's bike with his helmet on the seat.

Wearily he mounted it and rode to Deep Springs where Jennifer's family waited. He couldn't face returning to the building where he and Jennifer had started to build their future.

It all seemed a lifetime ago.

Riding hard and quickly, completely oblivious of his surroundings he sped into the backyard of the main house. Elizabeth flew out as if she'd been waiting for him and gently took his arm and led him into the kitchen. She sat him down and quietly spoke into the two-way radio on the bench. "He's here!"

Peter was exhausted but his mind wouldn't shut down. The events were just too catastrophic. Elizabeth's fresh hot toast didn't tempt him and he found it difficult to face his mother-in-law, knowing how he'd let her down. He had repeatedly vowed to protect and love Jennifer but had failed.

Well yes, he loved her more than life itself. However, did he protect her? He felt now, more than ever before, that he had failed.

"Ha. What a bloody fool." He voiced his thoughts.

"Are you talking to me Peter?" Elizabeth seemed surprised.

"I'm sorry, Mum. I was thinking aloud and I was talking about myself." He sagged as if all the fight had gone out of him.

A samfoo-dressed cook removed the untouched toast and placed a small bowl of Peter's favorite food in front of him - chilies swimming in soy sauce and fish oil. Handing him chopsticks the cook barked, "Eat!"

Wearily, he shoveled the chilies into his mouth and the cook refilled the bowl.

Elizabeth placed a serving of Pho Ga before him and urged him to eat. "You have to keep going for Jennifer's sake. She's relying on you so you can't give up now. She loves you and needs you." Elizabeth was doing her best to get him out of his black mood.

Andrew and Eric arrived with newspapers, which they spread before him as they sat quietly at the table. Their gentle presence supported him.

Eventually, Andrew broke the silence. "Hey cookie, that looks good, can you do a couple of plates for Dad and me?"

Eric's calm voice made Peter scan the headlines. "You've certainly stirred up the NSW Police Force," he commented. "Even Interpol is involved. Have a careful read and look at the pictures."

CRIME SYNDICATE SMASHED

'Acting on a tip-off, Sydney Crime Squad Detectives with the Dog Squad early this morning seized two cars outside an expensive brothel in Redfern.

'It is rumoured that the notorious underworld figure Dingo Ryan runs the brothel.

'Two cadaver dogs led the police into the building where the officers found several bodies. However, the police have found no trace of any 'ladies of the night' in the brothel.

I't appears that the bad luck that has dogged Dingo Ryan has continued. Since his luxury yacht sank, his home and boatshed burnt to the ground in baffling circumstances a week ago.

'Mysteriously a dinner guest and four bodyguards all died at a function hosted by Dingo in China Town.

'Now Dingo, his son and his wife are missing. All airports are under close surveillance as police in every state are searching for them as persons of interest.

'Police suspect that the Mickey Mouse Club (an Indian Crime Gang) could be the underlying cause of Dingo's unexplained disappearance and his bad luck.

'Interpol is assisting in the on-going investigations.

'To add more confusion Interpol earlier today announced the apparent assassination of a prominent NSW politician who was attending an international conference on crime in Hong Kong.'

The three men ate in silence while Elizabeth just stood silently her hands on Peter's shoulders.

Peter continued to scan the papers with thoughts of Jennifer's recovery never far from his mind

The RSM arrived. Ignoring the silence and the sadness, he announced. "The prisoner's quarters are completed and they are housed, waiting..."

Elizabeth stiffened. She was about to ask pertinent questions but the flare in her husband's eyes forced her to remain silent as the RSM, not bothering to finish, turned and left.

The cook placed glasses of steaming fragrant Jasmine tea in front of them and the four sat around the table immersed in their thoughts. Peter broke the silence with what seemed to the others as ramblings.

"Jennifer's body is on the operating table being repaired as we sit here, but I'm terrified that her mind is not there. She seems deaf and oblivious of her surroundings. I'm scared that her mind is affected. The past weeks must have been an incredible nightmare from hell.

"She was even sitting beside one Arab when he died, though how anyone got a Fer-de-lance snake into the nightclub I'll never know."

Peter concluded with a burst of wild insane laughter showing the others how close he was to breaking point. Bloodshot and wild, his eyes seemed unable to fix on anything. His movements were erratic and he had lost control of both the tone of his voice and the volume.

Quietly Elizabeth grasped his hand and helped him stand. "You have to be strong. Jennifer needs you in this horrible time. Her need is greater than ever."

Then, holding him tightly by the arm, she walked him to Jennifer's old bedroom. He didn't struggle as she helped him into bed under the bedclothes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she smoothed his forehead as he collapsed into fitful sleep.

Unable to sleep soundly with memories of his wife haunting him, he tossed and turned. He could smell Jennifer, he could feel her softness, he could... Carefully he opened one eye then the other and he groaned his misery, as he slowly comprehended where he was. Suddenly he realized he was cuddling one of Jennifer's nighties but she wasn't wearing it.

Elizabeth must have been close by because suddenly she was cradling his head and whispering to him. "Jennifer is through the operation and the surgeon is very pleased. She's in intensive care and will be back in the ward in two hours so you've plenty of time to shower, shave, eat and become the handsome young husband she knows.

"Take your time and just stroll down to the dining room. We've three very special guests who are anxious to see the hero. Now up and dress. See you soon." The eternal mother swept out of the room.

Standing in the dining room sipping wine were the Blake Pastoral Surgeon, his erstwhile nurse and full time wife, and a stranger, another Ghurkha.

Rudely ignoring the stranger, Peter bombarded the surgeon with his questions "How's Jennifer? When can I see her? Why is the nurse here and not with her patient?"

The surgeon quietly answered, "Jennifer came through the operation well but will be sleeping for hours. The nurse is here, yes, but we have more than one nurse. Jennifer is in safe hands."

Around the dinner table, the Ghurkhas turned the discussion to Blake Pastoral and future plans. The stranger, a Plastic Surgeon, broached the subject of extending the cottage hospital so that he could use its facilities.

Noting that the family did not immediately rebuff his proposal, the Plastic Surgeon quietly suggested that a trauma counsellor become part of the team adding that the local children, the security, the wildlife, the birds, the families, everything would help in patients' recovery.

"Lord knows the other girls, also affected by this traumatic experience, will need all the counselling and support we can offer as well." His gentle words reflected the depth of his professional training.

The family noted that under the circumstances the Board would look upon the request favorably. Elizabeth suggested that the specialist draft an interim proposal and present it to the Board for immediate consideration.

Still unable to put his mind to such matters, with his thoughts constantly on Jennifer, Peter ignored everyone and everything as he stared at a blank wall.

"Major!" The RSM had arrived. "Your wife is back in the ward."

Leaping to his feet, Peter raced out to find his bike where he had left it. The distance to Jennifer's bedside was shrinking every time he traversed the route.

Standing beside her bed as he watched over her, he sensed that the problems had not ended.

"Jennifer, I..." His voice dropped into a deep silence. That pitiful, pain wracked body with the red hair, that rescued whore, lay flat on her back. Her lifeless green eyes were open, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, but she was deaf to his words and oblivious of his presence.

"Jennifer, I love you but I failed you." Sliding his arm under her pillow, he cuddled her into his neck but still there was no reaction. His tears flowed profusely.

This scene greeted the surgeons as they entered the room. One helped him to his feet and led him to the consulting room where they sat, forcing him to listen.

"We've repaired her body but we cannot repair her mind. That's something only you, a trauma counsellor and her family can do."

"It'll take patience and love, but the repairs can be done. They will be successful because of the love around her. The people who did this should pay. Have you notified the law?"

The scornful look of hostility that surfaced on Peter's face frightened both surgeons despite their Ghurkha heritage.

"Oh, they'll pay!" His eyes blazed reflecting the passionate vehemence of his voice. "They will pay and they'll dwell in hell for eternity, and there'll be no official law involved. Oh, yes," he chuckled, "they lived outside the law and will die outside the law. I will be applying to them the same law they lived by."

Returning to Jennifer, he sat holding her hand and stroking her cheek. He didn't hear the whirr of the chopper as it left with the visiting surgeon on board.

Days lengthened into weeks and every hour in the ward Peter sat with Jennifer trying to break into her mind. He talked, and read to her but to no avail until at last, defeated, he realized his Jennifer was now a comatose body. The only change was that her hair had grown longer and her fragrance had returned.

When he bent to kiss the patient, her skin was soft and sweet. Her eyes were the wonderful pools of green in which he delighted to bathe but her brain just didn't want to acknowledge the world. It was Jennifer's body, yet it was not his Jennifer.

Every night Andrew collected him from the hospital. When they arrived at the house, the cook rushed to serve the evening meal.

There was not much discussion at the dining table once Peter had reported, "There's still no change."

The moment the meal ended Peter rose and made his way to Jennifer's bedroom where he spent the night trying to sleep with her nightie in his arms.

The fire had gone from Jennifer's eyes and the joy of living had gone from Peter's life.

The family was fearful. Jennifer's lack of response terrified them but Peter's slow downhill slide into dark depression was so noticeable that they were just as troubled by his actions.

Then, one morning, at breakfast Peter accepted a phone call from Joe. After a long period of listening attentively, Peter replied that he would be at the workshop at lunchtime the following day.

The family became agitated when he related the gist of Joe's phone call saying Joe had warned him that detectives had repeatedly called, demanding to know his whereabouts. He insisted that he alone would return to answer the police questions.

Extremely unhappy, they felt divided in their loyalty to Jennifer and their desire to assist Peter. He refused their offers of assistance saying Jennifer needed their loving support.

However, he had to accept their insistence that he take four bodyguards with him and use one of the company cars.

When the question of his return to Jennifer arose, he wept as he explained how much he loved her but was at his wits' end on how to break through the barrier. He admitted how close he was to a complete breakdown until Andrew dragged him to his feet and stood toe to toe with him glaring and demanding that he not walk away from Jennifer.

"Peter, you bastard. You pride yourself on being The Little One yet you're prepared to walk away from the person who has handed her life to you. Jennifer may be," Andrew was almost choking on his emotions as he glanced at Elizabeth's pale face, "unwell but she is yours. I distinctly heard you swear 'in sickness and in health'!"

Peter wept as he gripped his brother-in-laws shoulders. "I'm not abandoning Jennifer. No, bloody way! I'm returning to Sydney to guarantee there are no repercussions for you all, for Blake Pastoral or any of my 'little army' who helped me rescue Jennifer."

The remainder of the morning, he spent sitting with Jennifer, occasionally bending low to hug and kiss her as, although she was deaf to his words and oblivious of his presence, he explained why he would be missing for a few days and impressing on her that he loved her more than ever.

That same night he, with his four bodyguards, drove to Sydney.

It was almost midday the next day when a familiar voice rang across the workshop. "Can't a man get a car repaired here?"

The clamour of the workshop instantly died. There was an unearthly silence suddenly ripped apart by the uproar of voices welcoming Peter.

Eventually, he was able to speak confidentially with Joe on the footpath. The look on Peter's face when Joe asked about Jennifer was enough to warn Joe that this wasn't the time to ask.

Rudely ignoring the question regarding Jennifer and totally unable to answer civilly, Peter began planning for the police questioning.

Recovering from the shock of seeing Peter's unwillingness to discuss his wife, Joe listened to Peter's plans before commenting. "You really are a sneaky bugger, Peter. Of course, I can get that news crew who filmed our day on the harbor.

"They will be delighted to help. Only last week they called to tell me that a taxi driver visited the studio and handed them envelopes containing large cash amounts with the one word note 'Thanks'. The driver wouldn't reveal where the envelopes came from and well, I can only guess and say, Peter -- you are most generous.

"Yes I have some Italian reporter friends who would love to sit in on your meeting with the police. They believe there is so much corruption in the police service thanks to Dingo they will be delighted to get a scoop.

"Now the Police. They have approached no one -- you are the focus of investigations. I agree about being careful with their interviews so as soon as they appear I will immediately take the steps you suggest." Studying Peter's gaunt face, he sympathised with Peter's intense strain. "I'll ring Maria and then book a table for five at the Motel. The five will be Maria, Susie, Bill, you and I." Seeing Peter's eyes cloud with emotion, he added. "We need to fatten you up. Can't have anyone think we don't look after you."

Unable to face the apartment where he had shared so many happy hours and unwilling to live in the rooms above the workshop Peter strolled up the hill to the Motel.

"Peter! You're back! How's Jennifer?" Susie was bubbling with happiness. Peter's black look of despair didn't stop her, as she demanded to know what had happened to cause his thunderous looks.

Begrudgingly, he explained Jennifer's mental state as he signed the register for three rooms. His bodyguards would be staying with him, as his in-laws had demanded.

Susie wasn't impressed. "The Little One has given up, eh? I told you to fight. What happened when the battle became too difficult? You fled. You really are nothing more than a self-centerd wimp."

Her disgust was obvious as she stormed to the door. "And I asked you to be my baby's god-father. I must have been having a touch of senile decay." Angrily she threw the words back over her shoulder as she disappeared. The arrow of hurt hit Peter but he was unable to feel anymore pain.

Peter and his escort made their way to their rooms but Susie didn't reappear to ruffle his feathers.

Over dinner that night, Bill showed why he had been a Commander in the Royal Australian Navy. "Should the detectives question you about the sinking of The Pony Stable or the mysterious fire aboard the Arab's aircraft you are to send for me. I'll soon put a flea in their ear and they won't ask again."

Noticing Peter's attempt to refuse his help Bill said nothing but later pulled Joe aside to reinforce his ideas. "Keep a close ear on the proceedings and call me if they ask about our naval expedition," and he rocked with laughter.

Once the dining room was empty of guests, unbidden, Peter's bodyguards stationed themselves at the doors. Then Maria and Susie ganged up on Peter refusing to accept his surly answers when they mentioned Jennifer's health. Ignoring his anguished looks, they demanded a complete report on her mental and physical health and refused to accept short answers. They didn't rest until Peter was an emotional wreck. Weeping, he gave them all the information they needed.

Only then did they sit, one on each side of him, supporting him in his anguish.

Early the next morning, three detectives walked into the workshop office demanding to see Peter. They didn't notice Joe moving into the workshop where he reached for a phone.

"Mr. O'Brien, we have a few questions we need to ask you."

Wearily, Peter struggled to his feet and politely suggested that the workshop office was not the place for such business. He refused to go to the police station with them unless they were arresting him and instead led them to the dining room of the motel.

Four Ghurkhas, with their blades concealed, escorted them. The senior detective expressed his surprise until Peter explained that since the explosion he went no-where without his personal bodyguards.

As well, he had tightened all security. The workshop, the BMW Dealership, the Lexus Dealership and the motel were under guard 24/7. Indeed, he had strengthened the security for the whole block with ex-British and ex-Australian Army personnel.

Perplexed one asked, "Why all that security, Mr. O'Brien? Isn't that a trifle excessive?"

Peter withered him with a look of absolute disgust. "Someone tried to kill me by blowing up my workshop. You dare say I am being excessive! Really, I'm surprised by your childish innocence. What do you really expect me to do? Wait for the next attack? Or has the NSW Police Service already arrested the people who made the attempt on my life?"

Red faced and embarassed the detective stumbled over his excuse. "What I really meant... Isn't security for the whole block excessive? Even the crèche and Pre-school at the back of the block are under constant security."