Chapter 9: Nightmares and Pie

Luke gunned the engine and quickly shifted into the higher gears, speeding as fast as the car would go to siphon off some of his frustration. What was going on with Bo? The question kept repeating itself in his mind. He had no good answer. He thought as he drove, steering along the curving roads more by habit than by close attention. He was so wrapped up in thought that he nearly went right by a familiar car on the side of the road, the elderly driver standing in exasperation over a flat tire. Luke pulled over and reversed, coming up behind Doc Appleby's station wagon.

"Flat tire, Doc?" Luke asked, climbing out of the General Lee.

"Oh, Luke! Thank you for stopping! Why yes, and I think Cooter Davenport put one of these lug nuts on so tight I can't get it loose to change it!" Appleby explained.

"Are you in a hurry? I could give you a ride," Luke offered.

"Oh, no, I'm just coming back from town, no rush."

"Well, let's have a look at it, then."

Appleby had removed two of the five lug nuts, and Luke had to agree, that one was stuck fast. He secured the tire iron over it and gripped it tightly, straining every muscle trying to force it to move. It budged a fraction of an inch, and Luke let go, resting for a moment.

"Y'know, Doc, I think you might be just the person I need to talk to…"

"About what, Luke?"

As Luke strained at the stubborn lug nut - finally removing it, threads stripped - and moved on to the others, he explained Bo's unusual behavior of late, and his inability to figure out what was wrong with his cousin. Flat tire removed, Luke pulled out the spare and lifted it into place, and began refastening the four good lug nuts.

"Well, Luke, there's nothing wrong with Bo, per se," Appleby said after thinking for a few moments. "Actually, I'd think you would understand better than others."

Luke looked up at him with a quizzical expression.

"I might be wrong, but it sounds to me like Bo's experiencing symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder - lack of sleep, not eating well, loss of interest in what he once found enjoyable, extreme changes in behavior. It wouldn't surprise me, given the trauma he went through, though I'd need to speak with him directly to be sure."

Luke set down the tire iron, stunned at the revelation. Why hadn't he seen it before? The dark-haired Duke remembered his own misery in the weeks after returning from Vietnam, when the term had first been thrown around by doctors and psychiatrists. It had taken quite a while before he'd even said anything to Uncle Jesse, and a number of long talks after that, before the nightmares started receding and he began to sleep through the night again. And now Bo…

"What can we do to help him?" Luke asked, thoughtful. He realized he was neglecting the tire, and went back to work, fastening the last two nuts and lowering the jack.

"Well, that really depends on how strongly it's affecting him. A good start would be to get him to open up, talk about what's bothering him, but let him do the talking."

"Yeah, that can be pretty hard," Luke commented, knowing from his own experience. He wiped his hands clean on a rag and replaced the tools and flat tire in the trunk. "Thanks, Doc!"

"No problem, Luke, thank you!" Appleby said, touching a hand to Luke's shoulder, "Have your Uncle Jesse give me a call, I'll talk with him about it too."

Luke smiled. "I will. See you later, Doc."

He climbed back into the General and raced for town, eager to get back to the farmhouse and talk to Bo.

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Luke's first attempt didn't go so well.

"Nothing's wrong, Luke! I'm fine!" Bo stalked out of the barn where he'd been hanging Maudine's newly repaired harness, slamming the door shut behind him.

Luke's second attempt didn't go so well either.

"Luke, would you quit bugging me! I'm trying to work!" Bo yelled the next morning, revving the tractor engine and urging it to go faster out on the west fields.

That night, he was in the yard throwing feed to the chickens when Daisy walked up.

"Are you gonna ask me what's wrong too?" he snapped angrily.

"No, I was gonna tell you dinner is ready, but now I'm gonna tell you not to come in until you get that chip off your shoulder," Daisy rebuked him, and left. He didn't come in for dinner.

The next day, he was mucking out Maudine's stall - awkwardly, given the limited use of his left hand and arm - when Jesse came into the barn and closed the door behind him. Jesse sat down on a bale of hay, and called over to his youngest nephew.

"Come on over here, Bo. I'd like to talk."

Bo glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, pausing mid-scoop, and continued working. "I'm busy."

"I said, come here, Bo. That's the fourth time you've cleaned that mule's stall this week, and you don't change your own sheets that often!"

Bo stepped out of the stall but stood at the gate, leaning the pitchfork on the ground with his good hand. "What is it, Uncle Jesse?" he asked, his voice level, but his hands shaking ever so slightly.

"I want you to tell me what's been going on."

"Ain't nothing to tell."

"That's not what Luke's told me."

Bo scoffed and turned, picking up the pitchfork again. "Luke needs to mind his own damned business."

"Beauregard Duke, you will not use that language and you will not speak about your cousin like that!" Jesse commanded in a tone that knew no argument. "Luke loves you like a brother, and he only wants to help."

"Then he can help by leaving me alone!" Bo yelled.

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Daisy heard the indistinct shout from the kitchen, where she was baking a pair of peach and rhubarb pies. She came out onto the porch with a frown, looking towards the barn. Luke sat on the steps, aimlessly whittling at a stick with long strokes of his buck knife.

"Uncle Jesse said to stay here."

"That sounded like Bo."

"Uncle Jesse's talkin' to him." Luke went on whittling at the stick, a small pile of shavings in front of him.

Daisy frowned again, and went back inside.

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"Help by leaving you alone? Did he leave you alone when you were trapped in that mine? Did he leave you alone in the hospital?" Jesse asked none too softly. "Answer me, Bo!"

"No…" Bo answered grudgingly.

"Then why should he leave you alone now?"

"Because…because…" Bo had no answer. He was trembling visibly now.

Jesse stared at him with a fixed, unflinching expression. "I'm waiting."

"What do you want to hear, Uncle Jesse?..!" Bo cried. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks. "What do you want me to say?..! That I can't sleep at night, because every time I close my eyes I see that black boulder falling down on me?..! That I'm afraid of the dark, that I need the light on, like a little kid?..! That I can't hardly even look at the General Lee, 'cause the thought of climbing inside that little space makes my heart pound and the breath freeze up in my chest?..!"

Jesse was on his feet in an instant, pulling his nephew into a hug and leaving the pitchfork to fall to the ground. Bo sobbed against his chest, cried every tear he'd held back from every nightmare and terror and fear of the last three weeks, cried until he was exhausted and Jesse led him over to sit on the bales of hay, rubbing his back and whispering, "It's okay, son, it's okay…I wish you had told me, it's okay…"

Tears spent, Bo sat up a little, wiping red eyes and sniffing, trying to regain some sense of pride. Jesse held one arm around his shoulders, and Bo leaned into his uncle for support.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all this alone, Bo."

Bo looked down at the dirt floor, refusing to meet his uncle's eyes. "It's not your fault, Uncle Jesse," he said in a cracked voice. He sniffed again and wiped at his nose.

"But it is, Bo. I'm your wise old uncle, I'm supposed to recognize these things and say the right thing at the right time and make it all better."

His tone brought half a smile to Bo's face, which was quickly gone.

"I don't know what to do, Uncle Jesse," he said miserably.

"You ready to talk now?"

Bo nodded, sniffing. Jesse hugged his shoulder tightly, reassuringly, and let go.

"Now, what's been happening?"

Bo told him about the nightmares first, part flashback and part dream where he was back in the black mines, running from falling stones or trapped and unable to move or even look away as boulders came crashing down towards him, or the other nightmares where he was simply trapped and couldn't move, and he found himself shut in a coffin, being buried alive while he screamed and no one heard him. He spoke of his terror of the dark, the panic attacks he'd gotten when he found himself alone in the pitch black barn or inside the house, his inability to fall asleep in a darkened room, his immediate jolt of fright that first week when Luke would go to bed later than he and turn the lamp off as he climbed into bed. He spoke of the fear the coursed through him every time he stepped into a smaller space like the tool shed or the bathroom, how it felt like the walls would collapse in on him and how he couldn't breathe. He spoke of how he tried, he tried to fight it, to force himself to face the dark and the close spaces, but he couldn't do it, he failed every time, he only made it worse. He spoke of every feeling of fear and dread and misery that he'd felt and hidden for the last three weeks, ashamed and embarrassed and angry with himself for his weakness and cowardice. He never looked up at Jesse, or he would have seen his uncle listening with his jaw set tight and eyes closed, shedding his own tears for his nephew's torments.

After a while Bo ran out of words and fell silent, staring at the floor, fearing his uncle's reproving lecture. He didn't care anymore, if Uncle Jesse thought him a coward, he was a coward, he might as well accept it. Jesse didn't speak for several long minutes, but he pulled his nephew closer, and kissed him on the forehead.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all this alone, Bo," he repeated again, his voice heavy with emotion. "You're one of the bravest men I know, you always have been, ever since you were a child, and…don't interrupt me now, just listen," he chided gently as Bo tried to object, "…and I should have thought that you'd want to handle something like this on your own, and I should have seen it sooner, and you shouldn't have been alone all those nights."

"Uncle Jesse, I'm not brave," Bo said quietly, swallowing painfully.

"Yes you are, Bo. It takes courage just to say what you'd said to me now - there's many a man who won't admit their fear, who blame it on something else, or drown it in drink. But now that you have told me, now that I know, I can help you, and Luke can help you…"

"You won't tell Luke!" Bo cried, half-question and half-plea. The last thing he wanted was for Luke to think him afraid.

"No, I won't, but I think you should…I think he'll understand more than you believe," Jesse said kindly.

Bo's first reaction was to refuse, but he said nothing, torn.

"You don't have to decide now, just think about it."

Bo nodded gratefully.

"I'd like you to tell me something though, Bo."

The blond-haired Duke looked up, waiting.

"What is it you are so afraid of, in your nightmares, in the mines?"

Bo looked down again, shoulders drooping. "Dying, I guess," he said finally.

"Why?"

Bo looked back up. Jesse was waiting patiently, almost curious. Bo would have thought the answer was obvious. "Because…I want to live, I don't want to die."

"What do you want to live for?"

Again, Bo thought it was obvious. "Well, I want to live to…to be with you, and Luke, and Daisy, and my friends…I want to race the General, and leave Rosco in the dust when he tries to pull me over…I want to hunt and fish and go swimming on hot days…I want to meet a pretty girl, and maybe someday get married an' have kids of my own…" he trailed off.

"Bo…are you doing any of those things now?"

Tears started to fill his eyes again. "No."

Jesse hugged him again, then stood up, pulling Bo up before him. "Then I suggest you dry your eyes, stand up tall, and start living again," he said, gentle but firm, looking Bo straight in the eye as he wiped away the boy's tears.

"I'll try, Uncle Jesse," Bo promised with a small smile.

Jesse sniffed the air. "And you can start…by sharing some of Daisy's pie with me," he invited.

Bo nodded. "I'll be along in a few minutes," he assured. He wanted to compose himself first, before facing his cousins.

Jesse smiled, understanding. "Better come before Luke gets it all."

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The next day, after one last night sleeping at the kitchen table, Bo approached Luke and asked to talk to him. They found a quiet corner by the barn, and Bo told him much, but not all of what he'd told Jesse. He was surprised when Luke understood, and shared his own experience in return.

"I know it's not easy to live through, and it's not easy to remember, but you've got all of us here for you," Luke told him, "Any time you need us."

That night, Bo slept in his own bed, and Luke was right there when he jolted awake from a nightmare, staying with him until he fell back asleep. And the next night. And the next.

The next morning, Daisy went with him into the chicken coop to collect eggs, and though he left before they were halfway through, the next morning he came back with her and finished the whole thing.

It was a week before Luke walked around the corner of the farmhouse and saw Bo sitting in the passenger seat of the General Lee, pale and trembling, with his eyes closed. When Luke asked if he wanted to drive around, Bo shook his head no, and had to be helped out of the car. Luke found him there again the next day, the same way, and the next. At the end of August, not long after his cast came off, Bo timidly asked if Luke would drive them into town.

"Any place in particular?"

"No, just drive."

By the end of September, Bo could sleep through the night. He could walk through the dark with only a flicker of fear, which he refused to acknowledge. He enjoyed riding in the General again, though he still had to steel himself to climb in and out. He went to the Boar's Nest with Luke for beers, visiting with Daisy and talking with Cooter and Enos. He flirted with pretty girls at the bar, and eventually started dating Claire Dunney. He slacked off again on the work on the farm. He took turns driving the General again, and whipped Rosco a few times when the sheriff tried to catch him for speeding. He lived.

The End