1 Samuel 22:23
Saturday 27 October: Angie was the one to find him. Angie and Titus. She'd been hanging on for Baxter to come home, expecting him to give Titus his late walk. And he didn't come. Had he come she had no idea what she'd have said to him. Nothing she supposed. She was bewildered by the events of the day, her emotions raw. She knew that her marriage was over. That was true whether or not she ever saw Seb again. She wasn't even sure she wanted to see Seb again. What they had almost done made her feel dirty, in some way corrupt, as if she were responsible for destroying Seb. Perhaps she was, she reasoned. Though the rejection still grated. She shrugged away the thought. They were both adults.
And Baxter? She'd speak to Baxter in the morning. Resolve things somehow. Leave him she supposed. There was no other choice. She remembered that Seb had once said that these hard decisions and painful questions were only so impossible because you viewed them from the wrong perspective, from inside the relationship looking out. They should be viewed from outside the relationship looking in. Seb. Was that business just two days ago? How humiliating. She couldn't go to church again. not now.
But it was way past late and there was no Baxter. So she found herself walking Titus across Longhill and meandering into the side-streets of Forest Park, in the direction of Seb's place.
The streets were deserted. She had turned into Spruceland with its old Victorian houses set back from the road and walked on round Cherryvale heading back for Longhill.
Then she found him.
She heard a feint moan, like the sound of a small dog whimpering, at the very edge of her hearing, before she actually saw him. And when she saw him she thought for a moment that she was looking at a bundle of rags in the street. Titus barked.
"Shsh Titus." She moved closer and gasped. This bloodied mess was a man. And not just any man, this was a friend.
She knelt, folding herself to the ground, cradling Bob's head. The injuries were horrific. She had the sense to dial 911 on her cellphone. Bob was falling in and out of consciousness.
He felt her move, felt the nearness of her, comforting in the darkness. "Angie," he said. "Is that you?"
"Yes, I'm here Bob. Help is on its way. I've called the ambulance and Father Seb's house is close. I can get him."
Bob's response was little more than a bare gasp. "No," he whispered. "Not Sebastian." And there was something desperate about the haunted eyes of the dying man.
Angie nodded. "It's OK Bob," she said, stroking the head she cradled in her lap. "We'll wait for the ambulance. Just the two of us. I'll stay with you."
And she did. It took time. In Springfield cellphone 911 calls are routed through Eastern Mass before being forwarded back to Springfield Police Headquarters. The consequent delay cost Water Commissioner Robert Young his life. By the time the ambulance arrived, Bob had not long heaved his last shuddering breath. And though Angie knew he was dead, she stayed with him, talking to him, caressing him, as if it still mattered.
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