False Accusations by Jacobson, Alan (great novels of all time .txt) 📕

He finished breakfast, then loaded the van, grabbed the camera, and made it into the garage.

“I can’t believe we’re actually going somewhere as a family,” Leeza said as she strapped Jonah into his car seat.

But when Madison sat down in the van and reached for his seat belt, the phone rang. She clamped a hand down on his shoulder. “Phil, don’t answer it.”

“It could be important.” He jumped out of the van and snatched up the phone. “Hi, Ma.”

Leeza rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Great.” She cursed herself for agreeing to put a phone jack in the garage.

“Look, Ma, let me call you back tomorrow. I’ve got the kids in the car—yes, I know it’s been a couple of weeks but I’ve been busy... No, I think talking to you is important. I didn’t mean I was too busy to call you, I meant, well, I haven’t even seen the kids, Ma. I’ve really been swamped...”

Leeza was throwing dirty looks at Madison faster than an automatic weapon fires its rounds. He threw up his hands, mouthed I’m sorry, and turned away.

“What kind of problem is Ricky having?... So what? What’s that got to do with his job?... Okay, okay, put him on. Wait—let me call him from the car—ma?... Oh, hey Ricky…how you doing, bud?”

Elliott shouted from inside the car: “C’mon, Dad, talk to Uncle Ricky later. We have to go! You promised!”

Madison sat down on the workbench and nodded at Elliot.

Ricky had been institutionalized at birth upon his pediatrician’s recommendation. It was the doctor’s opinion that with another young child at home, trying to deal with the burden of a son with mental retardation would deprive the other child of important attention and time. Reluctantly, the Madisons agreed and Ricky was sent away.

For ten years, they wondered if they had made the right decision. The nagging concern that they had taken the easy way out weighed heavily on the Madisons until a week before Ricky’s eleventh birthday. At that time, new research was released indicating that institutions were not only ineffective but unnecessary because individuals with mental retardation could largely care for themselves and be contributing members of society. Shortly thereafter, Ricky was deinstitutionalized, an event that brought tremendous joy to the Madison household. He returned home and was immediately enrolled in a special education school within the local public school district.

Instead of resenting Ricky’s presence, Madison immediately took to him and often assisted his parents with his brother’s care. As the years passed, however, Ricky’s caseworker, who had been present regularly in the early going, was increasingly less available. To fill the gap and to solve problems, the Madisons turned to big brother Phillip—but the call usually came when his own wife and children needed his time. This created a great deal of friction with Leeza, but deep down she understood and felt sorry for Ricky. She would voice her complaint and then let it pass.

Madison was shaking his head. “I got it, Ricky, don’t worry. I’ll call tomorrow and take care of it...It’ll all be okay tomorrow, all right?...Now put Mom back on the phone....I love you too.”

After telling his mother that he would straighten everything out, he explained to her again that he had to go, and hung up.

Leeza was waiting in the van. She would not look at him, artfully avoiding his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Ricky had a problem at work—”

“Let’s just go,” she said.

“Yeah, Dad,” Elliott said, “let’s just go.”

After ten minutes’ travel down Highway 50, Leeza turned to Madison. “So what’s wrong with Ricky?”

“He had a problem with his boss at work. No big deal. Just a misunderstanding and Ricky doesn’t know how to express himself and give his side of the story. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

“Sometimes I feel like your life’s not your own. You give everything you have to help people get better and improve the quality of their lives. You give your time and money to several charities, you-name-it to your brother.” She threw up a hand. “You’re always doing for others do you realize that?”

Madison shrugged.

“It got worse when you became vice president of the Consortium. That was five years ago, Phil. And then when you took the presidency—”

“I’d rather not go through all this again, Leeza. Please.”

“I don’t want to keep bringing it up. But your life hasn’t been yours ever since. It hasn’t been ours either.”

Madison sighed. “Soon as Donna returns, my time should free up.”

“Donna, at the Consortium? I didn’t know she was out.”

“She was having some psychological problems, and it kind of got out of hand.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Irritability, forgetfulness...sometimes she just, I don’t know, spaced out. The last week or so it seemed to worsen. I don’t know if she’s having problems at home or if it’s a delayed reaction to the death of her sister, but she’s taken time off to get her head together.”

“How long is she going to be out?”

“Who knows. She could be back in a couple of weeks—or maybe never. Murph’s looking into it. He said he was going to call me tonight to discuss it.”

“Who’s gonna handle the fundraising?”

“Donna’s assistant. Murph just hired her a few weeks ago. I haven’t even met her. Her name’s Brittany...Brittany something. She was originally hired to help with the backlog of membership accounts receivable collections. Then, when we had that glitch with the licensing board, Donna had to free up some time. She gave Brittany some of the fundraising duties. Good thing, because at least she had some idea as to what Donna was doing, and how she was doing it. Harding, that’s her name. Brittany Harding.”

“Phil, you can’t continue to carry the organization on your back. It’s time for someone else to run the agency. You’ve given it everything you’ve got, and it’s time to pass the baton.”

Some time ago, he had realized that Leeza was right, but he had held off telling her that there was no one else who was ready