***
"Let him go," Braden ordered, pulling her away. He leaned in and attempted to kiss her, Revolted, Cabe stabbed her fingers into the hollow of Braden's throat. He lay choking on the sidewalk with his friends gathered around trying to help him. Cabe managed to drag Keith into her car before Braden could tell his goons to stop her.
She headed for the Partridge house, hoping that Shirley would understand. As Cabe pulled up, Shirley was outside watering some flowers. She saw Keith's limp form the instant the car stopped.
"Cabe! What happened to Keith?" Shirley demanded.
"It was my fault, Mrs. Partridge. I told Keith that there was a guy at the art store who was hitting on me. Keith confronted him, and got thrown into the wall. Keith hit his head."
"He doesn't look good. Cabe, he might have a concussion or a skull fracture. We need to get to the hospital, so a doctor can check him."
Cabe held out the keys. "Could you drive?" She asked Shirley, swiping at her tears. "I can't!"
Shirley took the keys. "Hold Keith, and try to see that he doesn't get hurt any more than he already is."
Cabe climbed into the passenger seat and clung to her limp boyfriend. Tears rolled down Cabe's face as she remembered how her friends had all become lovers with their boyfriends. But she and Keith had agreed not to, and he never asked more of her than some occasional heavy petting. Keith lay still in her lap, the gentlest, most innocent boy that Cabe had ever met, and he was hers.
The doctor at the emergency room determined that Keith did indeed have a concussion. He was, however, worried about some fluid and swelling that he had seen in the scan of Keith's skull. The doctor was worried that Keith might go into a coma or suffer brain damage.
Keith was wheeled away into the intensive care unit, leaving Cabe and Shirley alone in the waiting room. Tears hovered in Shirley's eyes.
"It's my fault!" Cabe sobbed. "If I hadn't asked Keith for advice, he wouldn't have insisted on going along. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me!"
Shirley grabbed Cabe's arms. "Stop that! It's not your fault! Keith did this because he loves you, but it was still his decision. Maybe a foolish one, but don't blame yourself!"
"I can't help it! I asked him what I should do instead of taking care of it myself!"
Shirley gathered Cabe into her arms. "Look, Keith may be small but he's strong. He will pull through and everything will be back to normal." I hope... Shirley thought. He said that there might be brain damage if the swelling doesn't go down soon.. Keith may never sing or write a song again. But I can't tell Cabe that; the poor girl is practically suicidal as it is!
"There has to be something I can do for him," Cabe said.
"No, Cabe. The doctors will take care of Keith. I'll stay with him, and I'll call you when he wakes up. But you have classes to get to, and you need to go home and rest," Shirley said.
Cabe somehow made it to the parking lot and drove home without causing a major accident. In her bed that night, Cabe lay still, looking at her easel. Propped up on it was a half-finished portrait of Keith that Cabe had been working on. The shirt that he posed in, a blue and white striped pull-on, lay folded on the stool.
Cabe picked up the shirt and held the soft cloth to her cheek. The sweet, faintly musky scent of Keith's sweat clung to the shirt. If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe that Keith was near.
The next morning, Cabe awoke to the sad knowledge that Keith was still in the hospital. As she was getting dressed, Cabe slipped on Keith's shirt. The feeling of the cloth on her skin and his scent in her nose were comforting. Cabe allowed herself to drift with memory, thinking of all the times that she had spent happy in Keith Partridge's arms.
For the first time in years, Cabe seriously picked up her guitar and began writing a song. She poured out all that she felt for Keith and all the pain that she was feeling now. It was the first time that she had ever seriously written a song, and she had to admit, when she was done, that Keith was rubbing off on her.
That evening, when Cabe went to visit Keith, she carried along her battered old guitar. In Keith's room, she sang the song that she had written for him. Cabe hoped that music, even her own pitiful wailings, so poor next to Keith's beautiful voice, would help him pull out of his coma.
"Yesterday I heard you
Singing about what love could be
And I felt in my heart
That you were singin' to me.
Our dawn is breaking, luv,
Can't you feel the light?
Now's the time to wake up,
We've broken through the night!
Today you've fallen silent
And your lips are cold
Can't you see my deepest wish
To with you grow old?
Our dawn is breaking, luv,
Can't you feel the light?
Now's the time to wake up,
We've broken through the night!
Oh, luv, I sing for you
Out of a heart you broke
Now you've won my love
In one sweet master-stroke.
Our dawn is breaking, luv,
Can't you feel the light?
Now's the time to wake up,
We've broken through the night!
Wake up, luv, wake up
This is the dawn of our love!
Our dawn is breaking, luv,
Can't you feel the light?
Now's the time to wake up,
We've broken through the night!"
As Cabe was singing, Keith's eyes fluttered open. He hadn't even known that Cabe could sing, much less sing so beautifully. And here she was serenading him, with a song that he was sure that she had written just for him.
"Cabe?" He murmured, fighting the headache and fog clouds that threatened to suck his mind down. "I didn't know that you could sing."
"You never asked," Cabe replied, smiling at Keith. "Besides, I'm nowhere near as good as you are. Nobody would want to record me. Keith, I'm so sorry that I brought you into my fight and it got you here. I should have dealt with Braden on my own."
"Don't be sorry. I'll defend you to the ends of the earth and to the end of my life, you know that."
"Well, this came a little too close to the end of your life for my taste. Especially over something so trivial."
"I'm sorry. But you're mine and I love you. I didn't like having him tresspassing on my territory. Is Mom out there? I want to talk to her for a few minutes. Alone, okay? I don't want to offend you, but I have to speak to just Mom."
"I understand. She's right outside, so I can get her in a couple of minutes and she'll be right here."