Cathryn swallowed. For the first moment in the conversation a red flag went up, questioning Charles’s state of mind.

“That idea surprises you,” he said. “Well, it shouldn’t. In the past most great medical researchers used themselves as experimental subjects. Anyway, let me try to explain to you what I am doing. First of all my research has advanced to the point where I can take a cancerous cell from an organism and isolate a protein, or what is called an antigen, on its surface, which makes that cell different from all the other cells. That, in itself, is a major advance. My problem then was getting the organism’s immune system to react to the protein and therefore rid itself of the abnormal cancerous cells. This, I believe, is what happens in normal organisms. I think cancer is a fairly frequent occurrence but that the body’s immune system takes care of it. When the immune system fails, that’s when a particular cancer takes root and grows. Do you understand so far?”

Cathryn nodded.

“When I tried to get the cancerous animals to respond to the isolated protein, I couldn’t. I think there is some kind of blocking mechanism and that’s where I was when Michelle got sick. But then I got the idea to inject the isolated surface antigen into well animals to make them immune to it. I didn’t have time to carry out the tests but I’m certain it would be easy because the well animal will recognize the antigen as being very foreign to itself whereas in the sick animal the antigen is only slightly different from its normal proteins.”

Cathryn’s comprehension faltered, though she tried to smile.

Charles impulsively reached across the table and grasped Cathryn’s shoulders. “Cathryn, try to understand. I want you to believe in what I’m doing. I need you to help me.”

Cathryn felt some inner bond loosen and fall. Charles was her husband and the fact that he needed her and admitted it was a tremendous incentive.

“Do you remember that horses were used to make diphtheria antiserum?” asked Charles.

“I think so,” said Cathryn.

“What I’m explaining to you is something like that. What I’ve done is to isolate the surface antigen of Michelle’s leukemic cells that makes them different from her normal cells, and I’ve been injecting the antigen into myself.”

“So you become allergic to Michelle’s leukemic cells?” asked Cathryn, struggling to comprehend.

“Exactly,” said Charles with excitement.

“Then you’ll inject your antibodies into Michelle?” asked Cathryn.

“No,” said Charles. “Her immune system wouldn’t accept my antibodies. But luckily modern immunology has found a way to transfer what they call cellular immunity or sensitivity from one organism to another. Once my T-lymphocytes are sensitized to Michelle’s leukemic antigen, I will isolate from my white cells what is called a transfer factor and inject that into Michelle. Hopefully that will stimulate her own immune system to sensitize against her leukemic cells. In that way she’ll be able to eliminate her existing leukemic cells and any new ones that evolve.”

“So she’d be cured?” said Cathryn.

“So she’d be cured,” repeated Charles.

Cathryn was not sure she understood everything Charles had said, but his plan certainly seemed sound. It didn’t seem possible that he could have figured it out if he were in the midst of a nervous breakdown. She realized that from his point of view, everything he’d done had been rational.

“How long will all this take?” asked Cathryn.

“I don’t know for sure it will even work,” said Charles. “But from the way my body is reacting to the antigen, I’ll know in a couple of days. That’s why I’ve boarded up the house. I’m prepared to fight any attempts to have Michelle taken back to the hospital.”

Cathryn glanced around the kitchen, noting again the boarded windows. Turning back to Charles, she said: “I guess you know the Boston police are looking for you. They think you’ve fled to Mexico to get Laetrile.”

Charles laughed. “That’s absurd. And they can’t be looking for me too hard because our local police know very well that I’m here. Did you notice the mailbox and the playhouse?”

“I saw that the mailbox was crushed and the windows were broken in the playhouse.”

“That’s all thanks to our local authorities. Last night a group came up from Recycle, Ltd. bent on vandalism. I called the police and thought they’d never showed up until I noticed one of the squad cars parked down the road. Obviously they condoned the whole thing.”

“Why?” asked Cathryn, aghast.

“I retained a young aggressive lawyer and apparently he’s successfully giving Recycle some trouble. I think they believe they can frighten me into calling him off.”

“My God!” exclaimed Cathryn, beginning to appreciate the extent of Charles’s isolation.

“Where are the boys?” asked Charles.

“Chuck’s at Mother’s. Jean Paul is in Shaftesbury, staying with a friend.”

“Good,” said Charles. “Things might get rough around here.”

Husband and wife, both at the limits of their emotional reserves, stared at each other across the kitchen table. A surge of love swept over them. They stood up and fell into each other’s arms, holding on desperately as if they were afraid something would force them apart. They both knew nothing was resolved, but the reaffirmation of their love gave them new strength.

“Please trust me, and love me,” said Charles.

“I love you,” said Cathryn, feeling tears on her cheek. “That’s never been a problem. The issue has only been Michelle.”

“Then trust that I have only her best interests at heart,” said Charles. “You know how much I love her.”

Cathryn pulled away to look up into Charles’s face. “Everyone thinks you’ve had a nervous breakdown. I didn’t know what to think, particularly with your carrying on about Recycle when the real issue was Michelle’s treatment.”

“Recycle just gave me something to do. The most frustrating part of Michelle’s illness was that I couldn’t do anything, which is what happened with Elizabeth. Back then all I could do was watch her die, and it seemed as if it was going to be the same situation with Michelle. I needed something to focus on, and Recycle galvanized my need for action. But my anger about what they’re doing is real enough, as well as my commitment to get them to stop. But obviously my main interest is Michelle, otherwise I wouldn’t be here now.”

Cathryn felt as if she’d been freed from an enormous weight. She was now certain that Charles had never lost contact with reality.

“What about Michelle’s condition?” asked Cathryn.

“Not good,” admitted Charles. “She’s a terribly sick child. It’s amazing how aggressive her disease is. I’ve given her morphine because she’s had awful stomach cramps.” Charles embraced Cathryn again and averted his face.

“She had some while I was with her, too,” said Cathryn. She could feel Charles tremble as he fought back his tears. Cathryn held him as tightly as she could.

They stood together for another five minutes. There were no words but the communication was total. Finally Charles pulled away. When he turned back she saw that his eyes were red, his expression serious.

“I’m glad we had the opportunity to talk,” said Charles. “But I don’t think you should stay here. Without doubt there will be trouble. It’s not that I don’t want you to be with me; in fact, selfishly I’d like you to stay. But I know it would be better if you got Jean Paul and went back to your mother’s.” Charles nodded his head as if he were convincing himself.

“I want you to be selfish,” said Cathryn. She experienced a new sense of confidence that she could be a wife. “My place is here. Jean Paul and Chuck will be all right.”

“But Cathryn…”

“No buts,” said Cathryn. “I’m staying and I’m helping.”

Charles examined his wife’s face. She looked positively defiant.