Reagan's Redemption: Book Eight In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series

by Cate Beauman

  “He won’t be smokin’ none, I’ll promise you that, Doc Reagan. We’ll take the oxygen.”

  She nodded. “I’ll get the equipment and show you how to use it, then I’ll make a few calls and get back to you with a date for an appointment.” And hopefully a few explanations from Doctor Hargus.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She walked from the room for the equipment, not missing Henry’s nasty glare on her way out.

  ~~~~

  Shane strummed his guitar, playing the chords of Collective Soul’s World I Know as he gently rocked the porch swing. He breathed in the fresh mountain air, perfectly content with Reagan at his side, her knee resting against his thigh as she sat cross-legged, holding Faith, while crickets sang their deafening chorus. Lamplight filtered though the screen door, casting Reagan’s gorgeous face in shadows as she spoke.

  “I’ve been researching since the moment Henry and Daisy left, and I’m not finding anything.” She absently swiped at long strands of her silky brown hair blowing in the warm breeze. “I can’t seem to find much of anything on cases of progressive massive fibrosis here in Eastern Kentucky.”

  Reagan had been late to arrive home from the clinic and quiet during dinner, clearly preoccupied by her thoughts. He’d finally pried her away from her computer half an hour ago, shamelessly using Faith as an excuse to entice her outside for a rock on the swing, like they did almost every night. “Maybe it’s not the black lung thing.”

  “It is,” she insisted.

  “Easy, killer.”

  She winced. “Sorry. I’m just frustrated.” She sighed, sliding gentle fingers down Faith’s arm. “Doctor Jacobson pretty much said it wasn’t either—more clinically, of course, but he was definitely dismissing my diagnosis. He hasn’t even seen Henry yet and he’s written him off.”

  “I’m sure he’ll change his mind after Henry’s appointment.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. He spoke to me as if progressive massive fibrosis is some sort of myth, especially after I told him Henry’s been employed by Corpus Mining his entire career.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Apparently Corpus Mining has one of the best safety records in the US. They have for years, or so I’m told, but regardless of that fact, Henry still has every symptom I’ve been able to track down, and his x-rays speak for themselves.”

  “Well there you go. You can’t argue with an x-ray.”

  “I guess.” She sighed again. “I put in a call to Doctor Hargus over at the mine, but he hasn’t gotten back to me yet. I want a look at Henry’s June x-rays and any others that might be on file. I just don’t understand how he came up with allergies. Henry’s lungs are full of fibroids.”

  He’d never seen Reagan this riled up. From what she said, Henry was in for a rough ride, but there was something more going on here. “You’re a good doctor, Reagan. If you’re this sure it’s pneumo…whatever the hell you said, then it is.

  “I’m just not—I like facts and data.” She swiped at her hair for the umpteenth time. “It’s hard to paint a complete picture without all of the information.”

  “I have no doubt you’ll find it. Hopefully the oxygen will keep Henry comfortable until he can get to his appointment.”

  “Daisy said it was helping a bit when I called to check on them a while ago.”

  “That’s good. You’re doing what you can.”

  “Which isn’t enough.” She nibbled her lip, frowning as she stared off into the trees.

  He’d hoped the balmy air and starlight might help her decompress, but that didn’t appear to be the case. Maybe he needed to try something else. “If Cute Stuff here sleeps for a couple hours, I want to teach you to cook.”

  Reagan closed her eyes with a small groan.

  He raised his brows. That wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for. “Or not.”

  “I’m sorry.” She laid her hand on his arm. “I’m tired and a little grumpy.”

  “Grumpy? Nah. Keyed up?” He took his hand off the strings of the guitar and demonstrated an inch with his thumb and index finger. “Maybe a bit.”

  “Sorry,” she repeated.

  “No problem.”

  “How about a rain check on the cooking?”

  “You’ve got it.” He picked another song and started playing Pharrell Williams’ Happy.

  Her eyes widened seconds before her face warmed with a grin, then she chuckled.

  He grinned back, thrilled to finally see that big smile of hers, and kept going.

  Faith cooed, moving her arms in the light blanket.

  Reagan looked down. “I think she likes it.”

  Shane played on and Faith cooed again, kicking her legs.

  Reagan laughed and Shane stopped, scooting closer against Reagan’s side, smiling down at the baby girl staring up at them. “Is that your new favorite, Faithy?” He touched Faith’s fist, and she grabbed hold of his finger. “And I thought you liked Old McDonald.” He pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead, completely in love, and looked up at Reagan. “She likes pop music already. I think we’re in trouble.”

  “We might—” Something rustled among the trees.

  Shane set down the guitar and rushed to his feet when a branch snapped, much closer this time. Animal or enemy? “I’m armed,” he bluffed.

  “Don’t shoot.” Jenny stepped out of the woods in jean shorts and an oversized Bud Light t-shirt.

  “Jenny.” Reagan stood.

  Jenny walked forward, standing in the beam of the porch light, her long blond hair tied back. “I—I’m back.”

  He studied the pretty teen’s shy eyes and nervous gestures, wanting her to walk into the woods and disappear again. Faith was thriving under his and Reagan’s care, and Reagan hadn’t brought up social services since their hike back from the Hendley’s home a week and a half ago. He wanted to make sure everything stayed exactly the way it was.

  “I uh, I came for Faith.”

  Reagan turned the baby slightly, as if shielding her. “We’re glad you’re back, but we’re not just going to hand her over.”

  She licked her lips. “Faith—Faith’s my child.”

  “Who you abandoned,” Shane added.

  “Shane,” Reagan warned, tossing him a hot look.

  “I know I did Faith wrong, but I’m ready to take her on and make things right.”

  The crickets continued their songs, filling the tense silence while Jenny stared down at the ground.

  “Um, why don’t we go inside and figure out what’s going on,” Reagan suggested. “We would love to hear your plans.” She looked at Shane.

  Holding her gaze, he nodded. “I’ll throw a couple of snacks together, and you can tell us what’s going on.”

  Jenny hesitated, clutching her hands together, and walked up the steps.

  “Come on in.” Reagan opened the screen door, letting Jenny in before her and turned, facing him. “You might be upset with her, but she needs to feel supported.”

  He steamed out a long breath, trying to figure out how Reagan was able to be constantly compassionate. “I’ll try my best, but she’s not walking out of here with this baby.” He slid his hand through Faith’s soft hair.

  “Of course she’s not. I’m not going to let that happen any more than you are.”

  He glanced in at the teen slumped in the kitchen chair, her arms crossed at her chest, surprised by the stirrings of sympathy for her. Rubbing at his jaw, he sighed again. “Okay. Let’s see what she’s got.”

  “Supportive,” Reagan reminded and stepped inside, smiling. “Jenny, we’re so glad to have you back.”

  Jenny peeked up from under her lashes.

  “You want something to eat or drink?” he said, mirroring Jenny’s crossed arms, unsure of how to proceed.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I know you two’re mad at me.”

  “We’re not mad,” Reagan assured. “We just hope you’ll tell us what
’s going on so we can help you and Faith.”

  “I didn’t do her right when I left.” She kept sneaking glances at the baby.

  “Do you want to hold her?”

  Jenny nodded. “She’s gotten so big.”

  Reagan settled Faith in her mother’s arms. “She’s growing quickly.”

  Jenny stroked Faith’s cheek. “She’s so pretty.”

  “She looks just like you,” Reagan said.

  And she did. Faith was Jenny’s mirror image—plump lips, a cute nose, sweeping eyebrows, and big exotic eyes set in a heart-shaped face. When Jenny and her daughter grew up, they were going to be stunners.

  “She’s just as sweet as she is beautiful.” Reagan slid her finger along Faith’s little hand as she took a hesitant step back.

  Shane studied Reagan, noting the worry in her eyes despite her smiles and kind words, and he rested his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently, realizing she didn’t like this anymore than he did.

  She looked back and sent him a silent thank you, surprising him when she leaned against him, resting her head on his chest.

  Jenny pressed her nose to the top of Faith’s head. “She smells real nice.”

  “Faith is definitely a water baby. She likes her baths.”

  “You took good care of her.” Jenny swallowed. “I don’t know why I left. I guess I wasn’t thinkin’ straight.”

  Reagan stepped away from him and sat down next to Jenny. “You’re here now.”

  He took the seat next to hers.

  “I heard maybe you might be wantin’ to keep Faith for your own.” She looked at Reagan.

  Reagan shook her head. “We want what’s best for Faith, but I’m not her mother.”

  Doc was good with the gentle understanding, but he wanted answers. “Did your mother say you can come home?”

  Jenny shook her head. “Me and Terry’s gonna get jobs in Lexington.”

  “You and Faith’s father are back together?” Reagan asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Is Terry here?” Shane looked toward the dark beyond the screen door.

  Jenny shook her head. “He didn’t want to come.”

  “His baby’s just about a month old. Doesn’t he want to see his own kid?”

  Jenny jerked her shoulders, staring down at her daughter.

  “Where are you and Terry planning to work?” Reagan steered them back on point, grinding her heel into Shane’s toes.

  Son of a bitch, that hurt. He yanked his foot away, frowning at her as she sent him a not-so-friendly smile before Jenny looked up at them.

  “We’ll find somethin’ I figure.”

  “What about school?” he asked, prepared if Reagan tried to make another underhanded move.

  She shrugged again. “I’ll be gettin’ my GED.”

  “What about food, formula, diapers, a place to stay?” he grilled. Reagan wanted him to be supportive, but they also needed to be realistic.

  She met his eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “Jenny, why don’t you and Faith plan on staying here for a few days while we work this out?” Reagan offered.

  “Terry’ll be waitin’ on me to bring Faith to him.”

  “You guys will be living with his family?” Shane asked.

  She shook her head. “They aren’t wantin’ nothin’ to do with Faith neither.”

  He looked at the beautiful baby, trying to understand how two families could cast off a child over some dumbass feud. “So where are you two staying?”

  “At an abandoned huntin’ place half mile east of here.”

  The idea of Jenny taking Faith away to God knows where sickened his stomach. Jenny wasn’t ready to raise a baby. She was a child herself. “It doesn’t make much sense to leave a place where there’s food and a bed for you and your daughter.”

  Jenny darted him another look.

  “We would love to have you.” Reagan smiled.

  “I guess maybe for a couple days.”

  Reagan rested a hand on Jenny’s shoulder. “If you really want to raise Faith in Lexington, I can help you get in touch with resources that can help.”

  Jenny nodded. “I’ve had time to do some thinkin’. I want to take care of Faith. I want to do her right.”

  Shane glanced from Jenny to the baby, not liking this whole thing, but Jenny was here. That was a start. “I’ll move Faith’s crib into your room.”

  “Thank you.”

  He gave her a nod and walked down the hall, struggling with the idea that the baby and Reagan wouldn’t be sleeping with him tonight. He’d gotten used to having them both in his bed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Reagan sat at the small desk in her room, scanning yet another document she’d downloaded, finding nothing more than the basic information she’d read time and again. Stretching her neck muscles, she rubbed at her eyes, trying to banish her growing sense of frustration.

  Since diagnosing Henry two days ago, she’d read every article in every journal she could get her hands on, hungry to be as knowledgeable about progressive massive fibrosis as she was about the conditions she dealt with on a regular basis in the ER. She was well versed in bullet wounds and broken bones, stitches and strep throat, but complicated lung disease was out of her league. Her job in the trauma room was to stabilize and ship her patients off to the specialists who would serve their needs best, but here in the mountains she was all things to over two hundred people, and she needed help.

  She’d reached out to Doctor Jacobson, and he laughed at her, shaking her already broken confidence. He’d argued the absurdity of an almost nonexistent disease among the hill of Eastern Kentucky and the mine’s great safety record, certain Henry didn’t have black lung. But she was positive he did. Undoubtedly, Doctor Jacobson was the Pulmonologist, but she had actually examined the patient.

  Desperate to quell her own insecurities, she’d spent the three hours since dinner scouring the internet and most of her day at the clinic banging her head against the wall, making phone call after phone call, trying to track down any one of the three doctors who’d treated the five confirmed cases of black lung diagnosed here in Eastern Kentucky over the last fifteen years.

  By closing time, she’d discovered two of the physicians were deceased and the other had retired. That man, Doctor Heinz Schlibenburg, was exactly the person she had every intention of contacting…as soon as she could find him. Doctor Schlibenburg, one of the world’s most revered pulmonologists and a top expert in pneumoconiosis, had apparently dropped off the face of the Earth. He’d quit his practice, no longer attended lectures or collaborated on new research, but he certainly lived somewhere.

  She typed the doctor’s name into another search engine, frowning when Faith’s fussing in the next room caught her attention. She opened the first document, trying to ignore Faith’s cries growing louder. Nibbling her lip, she forced herself to stay put and focus on her job, but it was a struggle listening to the baby cry when she knew exactly what to do to make Faith stop.

  During the two days Jenny had been back, she and Shane had done their best to give the new mother her space, offering to help on occasion or gently guiding when Jenny appeared to need a hand, but for the most part they’d let her be. Eventually Jenny and the baby would leave. She needed to see for herself that Faith would be okay.

  Faith’s short, gasping cries grew louder yet, and Reagan got to her feet, unable to stand the baby’s demands for comfort for another second. She walked next door, watching Jenny pace with her child, wearing the shorts Reagan had unearthed from the small pile of clothing donations at the clinic.

  “Hush now, Faith. Hush now,” Jenny said, bouncing the baby gently.

  “Knock, knock.”

  Jenny turned. “She won’t quit her fussin’.”

  “This tends to be her fussy time of night.” Reagan smiled encouragingly. “She usually quiets down with a rock on the swing, or sometimes she’ll settle with the lullabies Shane downloaded on his phone. I’m sur
e he’ll let us borrow it.”

  Jenny shook her head. “I don’t want Faith gettin’ used to fancy stuff. She ain’t gonna have nothin’ fancy when we move to Lexington.”

  Reagan stepped farther into the room, noting Jenny’s defensive tone. The teenager had been on guard for forty-eight hours straight, saying little and staying mostly in the loft or her bedroom. Jenny clearly didn’t trust her or Shane, which wasn’t doing Faith any good. Taking a chance, Reagan sat on the bed. “Would you like me to take her for a couple of minutes?”

  Jenny shrugged. “I’ve a mind she won’t quit for you neither.”

  “I’m here to help if you want.”

  Jenny handed Faith over.

  “Shh,” Reagan soothed close to Faith’s ear as she stroked her fingers along the baby’s back. “You’re all right, sweet girl.”

  Faith’s crying turned to whimpers.

  “There you go.” She settled Faith on her lap, smiling down at the baby while she rubbed her tiny tummy. “That’s a little better, huh?”

  Jenny plopped herself into the chair next to the bed. “She don’t like me.”

  “Yes she does.” She continued rubbing Faith’s stomach.

  “She don’t cry for you or Shane. Just me.”

  “She cries for us as well. Don’t you, Faithy?”

  Jenny picked up one of the baby’s rattles, fiddling with the toy. “Faith thinks you’re her mommy.”

  Faith probably did. She and Shane had been caring for her from the moment she took her first breath, but Reagan shook her head anyway. “Babies pick up on emotion. Right now you’re frustrated. I’m feeling a little more calm.”

  Faith passed gas.

  Reagan wrinkled her nose. “Plus she appears to be gassy. Rubbing her tummy like this helps move the trapped air in the right direction.”

  Jenny huffed, setting the toy down. “I don’t know nothin’ about raisin’ babies like you do.”

  “You’re learning.” She leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially. “And I don’t know either. I read or guess, just like you’re doing.”

  Jenny smiled, her first smile since she’d been here.

  Encouraged by the small chink she made in Jenny’s armor, Reagan scooted closer to the chair. “The most important thing is you’re trying.”