[February 4th] [Perry Mason] Candles and the Snow, 4

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Candles and the Snow, scene 4
Day/Theme: February 4th - A candle burned on the table
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Hamilton Burger, Mignon Germaine
Rating: PG-13

Time period: The past, shortly after Hamilton was first elected district attorney.

Today is William Talman's (Hamilton Burger) birthday. I posted a tribute for him on my Perry Mason blog. http://parkavenuebeat.blogspot.com/2012/02/birthday-tribute-william-talman.html


By Lucky_Ladybug

Jack Garson was a friend of Hamilton’s from high school and the university. It was only a few months after Hamilton and Mignon met that Jack met Mignon as well. The three of them bonded and often went out together on activities.

Eventually Jack and Mignon discovered that they had come to care about each other as more than friends. Jack proposed and Mignon accepted. Hamilton was the best man at their wedding. They continued to do things together, but once Mignon discovered she was expecting their excursions lessened.

Hamilton was growing busier as well. He had graduated that year and was going into law school. The work was intensive and required a great deal of his concentration and time. He regretted it as his visits with Mignon and Jack became less frequent.

Mignon loved being a mother. She had quit her job once she had found out she was pregnant, wanting to devote all her time possible to her child.

Larry was a very alert, attentive kid, just as crazy about his mother as she was about him. He had a special connection with his father, too. They were a happy family. Although they sometimes struggled with finances, they had everything they felt they needed or wanted.

Hamilton, still wrapped up in his legal interests, finished law school and was able to take a job at the district attorney’s office. He was soon branded a rising-star prosecutor and was given more and more of the most difficult cases. It was overwhelming and time-consuming, but he was pleased with the work he was doing. On the weekends or whenever else he found a spare moment, he visited Jack and Mignon and Larry.

He only became busier after winning the election for district attorney. He was heavily involved with a murder one casefile on his desk when the phone rang one evening. He picked it up almost automatically, still reading the information. “District Attorney Burger,” he greeted.

Mignon’s voice, taut with emotion and horror, shook him away from the case. “Hamilton, Jack has been in an accident.”

Hamilton sat up straight, pushing the folder away from him. He had never heard Mignon sound like this before. It must be serious. “Mignon, what happened?” he demanded. “Is he in the hospital?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m waiting to see him. He was driving home from work when another driver smashed into his car from the side.” She took a deep breath. “The doctors . . . haven’t offered much hope.”

Hamilton was getting up almost before she finished speaking. “I’m coming right now,” he said. “Which hospital is it?”

“Central Receiving,” she told him.

He said goodbye and hung up, grabbing his hat and coat as he rushed to the door.

The drive to Central Receiving Hospital was a blur, filled with twisting, worried thoughts. Was there really no hope? Was Jack going to die? It seemed so unreal, so impossible. Hamilton had known him for years. Always ready with a joke, Jack also knew when to settle down and be serious. He and Mignon had been so happy, starting a family. . . .

What would Mignon do if he died? Larry was still very young. How would Mignon provide for him?

Mignon was not in the waiting room when he arrived. A nearby nurse informed him that she had been allowed to go to Jack’s room. After giving the room number she added, “He’s almost gone. I’m sorry.”

Hamilton felt sick as he hastened down the hall and to the room. As he pushed open the door Mignon was standing by the bedside, a lit blue candle in her hands. Jack, lying on the bed, was swathed in bandages, many of which were stained crimson. The heart monitor beeped slowly.

Hamilton approached quietly. Mignon looked as though she were praying. She had explained to him once that in voodoo, each candle’s color meant something specific. He did not remember them all anymore, but blue was probably for healing or miracles.

Her eyes opened as he drew near. “I can’t bear to see him like this,” she said. Her voice cracked but still did not break. Walking across the room, she set the candle in a wick she had placed on a small table.

Hamilton stared at Jack’s battered body, unable to look away. He had seen so many crime scenes and spoken with so many victims. His heart ached for all of them. Now he knew at least some semblance of what they must feel. This entire scene was surreal and difficult to grasp.

“What happened to the driver of the other car?” he wondered.

“He was killed instantly. The police said he was only seventeen.” Mignon walked back to the bed, gazing with pain-filled eyes at her husband.

“Does Larry know?” Hamilton’s voice was quiet and unassuming.

She shook her head. “I left him with a neighborhood baby-sitter,” she said. “I told him his father had been hurt and that I was going to him. He doesn’t know how serious it is. I didn’t know myself until I was here.”

Bending down, she reached for a scraped and wrapped hand. “Jack?” she ventured. “Jack, can you hear me . . . at all?”

There was not the slightest response or movement.

His heart twisting, Hamilton glanced up as the candle flickered. He honestly did not know or understand how Mignon thought a candle could possibly help. From what he remembered, she had mentioned something about a person’s level of spiritual energy being able to activate it.

Well, if anyone could make it work, it should be Mignon, he thought with some bitterness. She was devoted to her religion.

He had been praying for Jack’s life since he had first heard the news. He said another now—and one for Mignon to be able to find peace, no matter what happened.

The sound of the heart monitor flatlining was chilling. Mignon went sheet-white.

Hamilton’s own heart picked up speed. “I’ll get the doctor,” he said immediately, hurrying to the door.

Moments later he came back with several medical personnel, who raced to the bedside and began fighting to save Jack’s life. Hamilton drew an arm around Mignon, leading her to the hall outside to wait. She walked slowly, almost mechanically.

They hoped and they prayed, but deep down, they knew what the end result would be. When the staff came out, their eyes filled with sorrow and regret, it was not a surprise.

Mignon was still keeping herself together. “Thank you,” she told them quietly. Looking numb, she went back to the door and slowly entered.

Hamilton hesitated. Maybe he should leave her alone a few minutes, allow her to say goodbye to Jack in private. But the sound of a choked cry from inside the room brought him running.

Mignon was standing at the bedside, her knuckles white as she gripped the metal railing. With wide, disbelieving eyes she stared at the lifeless body in the hospital bed. All the machines were still now. There was no rise and fall of the pained chest, no hint of remaining breath. Mignon clutched the railing as if to let go meant death for herself.

Hamilton went to her, his heart shattering for both her and Jack. And Larry, although he still did not know. “Mignon,” he began, reaching to touch her shoulder.

She fell against him, still holding onto the railing. “He’s gone,” she said. “He’s truly gone. What am I going to tell Larry? How am I going to tell him that his father is never . . .” She trailed off, shaking.

Hamilton enfolded her in his arms. Why did this have to be real? Why couldn’t it be a horrible, untrue dream that could be awakened from?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blue candle’s wavering flame go out.