Still, she slept.
Every day, Patrick kissed his sleeping beauty, hoping he would be her prince charming and she would wake.
Still, she slept.
Dr. Sinise brought on Dr. Terres, a young obstetrician, and she performed a sonogram. The baby was healthy and appeared normal. He asked Patrick, "Do you want to know the gender?"
"No, we'll be surprised," Patrick responded.
"Patrick, you'll be surprised. Knowing will help you plan," Dr. Sinise said.
"No, Jenna knows my decision. I'm believing in miracles."
"All right. I pray your faith is rewarded. She's really beautiful, Patrick. Have I seen her somewhere before?"
"Maybe. She once called herself Irish Spring."
"Oh, yes." The doctor nodded and smiled at the memory of a trip to a gentlemen's club. "You took her away from that, I see. Most assuredly, your gain. I hope not your loss."
Raif watched his son become a man and shoulder responsibility that no twenty-one-year-old should ever have to bear. Ray watched his sons and son-in-law and prayed they never had to face anything like his nephew. He thought this year off had definitely become an off year.
More time passed, and Dr. Terres placed a fetal heart monitor on the baby. After twenty-eight weeks, every day's gestation was important, but Dr. Sinise did not want Jenna's body to undergo the trauma of labor. The two doctors discussed the pros and cons. Sinise wondered if a few contractions might trigger something in her brain. Nonetheless, if there was the slightest sign of fetal distress, Terres would deliver the baby by C-section.
At thirty-two weeks, it seemed Jenna drew her legs into her abdomen. Dr. Sinise saw it as a positive sign. She was having contractions, and she had responded to pain. Any response was better than no response.
After monitoring the contractions for a day, Dr. Sinise called Terres. Patrick suited to go into surgery for the birth of his child. Since it was obvious that Jenna was feeling pain, Dr. Terres had an epidural administered before she delivered a three pound, twelve ounce baby boy. He was small, but his lungs were healthy.
Patrick laughed tearfully at the baby's cry. "He screams like a Thornton."
The nurse handed the baby to Patrick, and he held his son carefully. "You need a name," he said. "Come with me so we can talk it over with Momma." Patrick laid the baby on Jenna's chest. "Okay, Jenna, I've been thinking. You might be a sleeping beauty, but I need you to wake up. Don't make me raise our son alone. I know how close you were to your grandfather, so I've chosen a name. My dad is the best man I've ever known. Therefore, this little guy is Corin Raiford Gautier. If you don't like it, then, wake up and tell me. If you do, you can tell me that, too. Just wake up."
Dr. Sinise encouraged Patrick to keep talking. "Something is healing. It's taking a while, but it's healing. I think we might be able to remove the respirator."
"Are you sure?" asked Patrick.
"Ninety-nine percent. If we lose her, we'll put it back."
"No," said Patrick decidedly. "If that's all that's keeping her here, let her go." The young man's shoulders shook with silent sobs.
The next day while the family gathered in the waiting room, Patrick held Jenna's hand when Dr. Sinise prepared to disconnect life support as Dr. Terres looked on. "Don't leave me," Patrick said to Jenna. "I love you so much."
Dr. Sinise said his own silent prayer before he turned off the respirator and yanked the tubing. Both men watched the heart monitor with bated breath. Dr. Sinise nodded. "She's breathing on her own. Keep talking, Patrick."
"Now, about the baby," Terres chimed in. "He's a big preemie. Once he hits four pounds, he can go home. The neonatologist will be taking over now. Dr. Dudley is an excellent physician. We’ve already met with your family and had a short class on Corin's special needs. He'll be in good hands."
Corin Raiford Gautier was an instant hit. Among his grandparents; great-grandparents, both real and surrogate; aunts; uncles; and cousins, he would have no shortage of caregivers. Almost every member of the Gautier-Reynolds clan read pamphlets on preemie care and spoke with Corin's doctors. Patrick was grateful for their support, but the one person he wanted to hold his son slept still.
After two weeks, Corin was released to go home on the first of June. However, Patrick carried him two floors up. He laid the baby on Jenna's chest. "Somebody has come to visit you," he said as he placed Jenna's arm gently over the baby.
Dr. Sinise came in and momentarily distracted Patrick. "I thought you'd do this," he commented. "Nice strategy."
"If she's in there, she'll respond." Patrick turned back to Jenna and Corin. He motioned Dr. Sinise closer. "Look. I didn't put Corin's hand in hers. She's in there. How do I get her out?"
"You're doing great. Keep talking. Have Gram talk to her. Hell! Pull out all the stops. Tell Gram about her former occupation."
"I will. Damn it, Jenna! Don't push me to that. If you don't wake up, I'm gonna tell Gram about Irish Spring."
Jenna's free hand clutched the covers.
"Do you want to fight about it?" asked Patrick. "I'd love to have a fight with you. Making up is sooo good."
Patrick looked at Dr. Sinise who nodded encouragement. Patrick pulled out his cell and dialed. "Gram…He's fine…Get Trista to bring you over here…I want to talk to you about how I met Jenna…No, not everything…Okay…See you in a few."
Dr. Sinise watched the monitors. Jenna's blood pressure elevated. Her heart rate increased. "She's pissed off," he commented.
"Then, she needs to wake up and scream at me," yelled Patrick.
Corin began to wiggle and squirm. He let out his soft cry. "Somebody's hungry," observed Patrick. "That's his 'feed me' cry, Jenna." Patrick took a bottle of formula out of the thermal pack and picked up the baby. Jenna clutched the covers with both hands.
"Your momma is stubborn," Patrick said as he fed Corin. "All she has to do is open her eyes. She has beautiful eyes. Actually, she's beautiful all over. I'll never forget the first time I saw her."
"And when was that, Patrick?" asked Gram from the door.
"Hello, Gram. The first time I saw Jenna, I thought her name was Irish Spring. She was dancing in a fairy costume."
Jenna kicked the covers.
"Ah," observed Gram. "Aire ya aboot to tell me a deep, dark secret aboot our little sprite?"
"If she doesn't open her eyes."
"And if she does?"
"She can tell you. Jenna, open your eyes. Gram, you try."
"Jenna Brye Thornton!" Gram said sternly. "Aire ya really gonna make this man tell me 'e saw ya takin' yer clothes off? And 'e still loves ya even with all the other men seein' ya take yer clothes off. Damn it, girl! Open yer eyes and love yer 'usband the way ya should!"
Tears seeped from beneath Jenna's closed eyes. Patrick handed the baby to Gram. He kissed his wife's eyes. "Wake up, darling. She's known a long time. After all, she's been living with Colleen. It's obvious you know what's going on. You've got two men in this room who need you so much. Come on, sweetheart. I love you. I want you. I can't live without you. Come on, please."
Slowly, Jenna's eyes fluttered open. "Hi," said Patrick with tears in his own eyes. "You should've just told me you needed a vacation."
Jenna's eyes darted around the room. "Oh," said Patrick. "You'd rather see the other man in your life."
Patrick took Corin from Gram and put him back on Jenna's chest. She shakily covered him with her hand that had her I.V. and reached for Patrick with her other hand. Patrick grasped it and kissed her fingertips.
Gram walked to the other side of Jenna's bed, bent over, and kissed her granddaughter's forehead. "Never ya mind the past, me sweet girl. I'm just glad to 'ave ya back. Nothing ya could do would make me stop lovin' ya. Visit with yer family. I'll be back soon. I 'ave to let everyone else know ye're awake."
Dr. Sinise and Gram crept out. The doctor gave them twenty minutes before he came back in. Jenna's eyes were closed again. "I think she's just asleep," whispered Patrick.
Dr. Sini
se thumped Jenna's foot. Her eyes popped open. "Yep. Well, shall we remove all the tubing? Over the next couple of days, we'll run a few tests to make sure all parts are working." An hour later, Jenna Gautier was taken to a private room. The off year, finally, was back on track. The family was complete and larger.
Jenna had no memory of the actual accident and only sketchy memories of the last six months. She could only recall bits and pieces of conversations before Corin's birth. She did remember that she had not realized she was pregnant.
"It doesn't matter," assured Patrick. "You're back. Just tell me you do remember loving me."
"More than anythin' Patrick. When I'm up and aboot, I'll give ya a private dance."
"Will touching be allowed?"
"Oh, yes. Lots and lots o' touchin'."
"I'll start now." Patrick really kissed Jenna for the first time in almost six months on June third.
Raif planted a rose bush on the other side of the door to the family crypt. "Wow, Chris! This has been an off year. It started out great, but when it took a dive, it really took a dive.
"Jenna almost died, but had a baby instead. We have a grandson, Corin Raiford, and Jenna's back after being in a coma for half a year and missing the wonderful experience of being pregnant." Raif laughed.
"Ray's year off gave him a son-in-law. I told you it would. I can't wait until Courtney has a baby. And, then, Cherie. Oh, I hear Ray's laments now." Raif laughed again.
"Oh, well. Your roses are crimson. I hope you like them. Actually, Neely picked them out.
"Michael is a year old today. We're having birthday cake and ice cream later. What do you have to say to me this year?"
He sat on the bench and waited. Silence met Raif. He waited patiently. Finally, a soft whisper came. "You need another tattoo, a rose tattoo. You do have two arms."
42
Detectives Reynolds
Raif returned home and put together a Fred Flintstone car. Not long afterward, they were invaded by birthday guests. The phone rang and Patrick and Jenna sang "Happy Birthday" over the phone.
Giving the birthday boy his own small cake, both parents knelt by his high chair, one on each side. Michael delved into his cake with both hands and reached out to share with Raif and Neely. Of course, both ate some cake from the child's hand to peals of laughter from the guests.
An hour later, both Raif and Neely were covered in frosting. They changed and had a cookout for the partygoers. Finally, the guests left and the children were tucked snuggly into bed. Raif disappeared to his drafting table. Neely knocked softly on the door and entered. "Am I interrupting?" she asked.
"No." He held out an arm to her and pulled her close. "What do you think?"
There was no blueprint on the table, but a drawing that appeared to be a running rose vine with a rose at the top and the rest of the vine and leaves and a few thorns making the letters to spell N-E-E-L-Y.
"What is it supposed to be?" asked Neely.
"Is it that bad?" laughed Raif. "I thought it was unique."
"It's not bad," said Neely. "I can read it very well, and it's very different, but what's it for?"
"My right arm. It's my rose tattoo. Can you do it and fix it to be just right? I'm not an artist. My drawings are technical and precise."
"It's actually quite beautiful. Do you want it in color?"
"Absolutely. Just like yours." Raif ran his finger down Neely's arm. "We can do it tomorrow. I have other ideas for now."
"Do they include me?" asked Neely flirtatiously.
"I can't do it without you," Raif answered pulling Neely's face to his.
The next day in the art studio Raif had built for his wife, Lydia, Leah, and Lacey watched intently as Neely inked Raif's drawing onto his right arm.
Lydia noted, "Stop grimacing, Daddy. Does it really hurt that much?"
"I don't like needles," confessed Raif.
"Then, why are you doing it?" asked Leah.
"Because I love your mommy."
Lacey giggled, "Want one say 'Wacey?'"
"I love you, too," said Raif, "but if I got Lacey, I'd have to get Lydia, Leah, Michael, Trista, Patrick, and Lindsay. I don't like needles that much. I know what I'd like instead—a family portrait. This Christmas, we'll get everybody and have a portrait done."
"We've got a big family, Daddy," laughed Lydia. "The photographer will have a fit."
"We'll get Jenna to do it on a time delay, so she can be in it, too."
"That would work. Maybe we could get one of everybody at Christmas dinner." Lydia grinned, a big gap in her front teeth where she had lost her first tooth a few days earlier. "That would be a real challenge."
"Yes, it would. I'm glad it's at Ray's house this year."
"Me, too," Neely confessed. "There. All done. What do you girls think?"
"Cool," said Leah.
"Wike Mommy," said Lacey.
"Absolutely!" laughed Neely.
Kyle and Courtney had rented a small apartment in the complex where Ray had once lived. Both found jobs, albeit low-paying. They would be at LSU in the fall in the housing reserved for married students. Still, they managed to finagle dinner with Ray and Larkin or Grandma Audrey and Grandpa Walter most nights, and sometimes Raif and Neely or Parker and Sheena.
On this night, they were underfoot at the Reynolds home. Courtney was in the kitchen helping make dinner while Kyle was in the garage with Ray as he worked on his design for a turbo engine for the new fuel efficient cars. Kyle proved to have a very analytical mind and a couple of his suggestions Ray found practical and useful.
"Are you gonna include my name on the patent?" Kyle teased.
"I was thinking I actually would."
"Really?"
"You have helped. Let's test our design tomorrow. You're invited for dinner. Tomorrow is gumbo, my recipe."
"I'll bring some milk."
"Why?" laughed Ray.
"Pop, your gumbo is spicy, very spicy."
"Wuss."
Kyle just grinned.
"What's that grin for?"
"I will not put my thoughts into words."
"Let's eat. Tonight is pot roast. Can you handle that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you need some milk?"
"I am still growing, so I've been told."
"You have gotten taller since Europe."
Ray and Kyle walked into the kitchen where Cherie set the table. Larkin lifted the crock from the crock pot to carry the roast to the table.
"Let me get that," offered Kyle.
"Suck up!" yelled Ray from the hall bathroom.
"Wash up," said Larkin. "I've got it."
Courtney set the homemade biscuits on the table as Kyle and Ray sat down.
"Who made 'em?" asked Kyle.
"Do you want a divorce?" snapped Courtney.
Kyle looked at Ray.
Ray mouthed, "PMS."
Kyle snickered.
"What?" bit Courtney.
"Nothing," said Kyle, holding his hands up as if in surrender.
"What's up with you, Court?" asked Ray.
Courtney slammed the marmalade onto the table and fled the room. Larkin glowered at Ray.
"What did I say?" asked Ray with his hands spread in the air.
"Don't look at me," said Kyle.
Larkin sighed. "She hasn't told you? She's late."
"Whoa!" shouted Kyle. "She's on the pill."
"It doesn't always work. She's scared to death. She doesn't want to be pregnant yet."
"Me either. Why didn't she say anything to me?"
"She thinks you'll be mad."
"That's silly. Excuse me. I need to talk to my wife."
Kyle knocked on the bathroom door. "Courtney?"
"Go away!"
"Is that really what you want?"
Several minutes of silence prompted Kyle to say, "Court? You okay?"
Courtney opened the door. "No. I'm not okay and I don't really want you to go away."
"Why didn't y
ou say anything? Do you really think I'm mad? Get a test. We need to know. Maybe you're just stressed out. But if it is, it is. We'll deal with it. It would give Uncle Raif something to rag your dad about." He grinned. "Other than me calling him 'Pop.'"
Courtney giggled. "What did Daddy's face look like?"
"Ghastly pale. Let's eat. You can see for yourself." They came to dinner hand in hand.
The next night when Kyle and Courtney came for gumbo and engine testing, Kyle told Ray, "The test was negative. What should we do?"
"Wait."
"What if something else is wrong?"
"She's only a few days late. She's panicking. Wait."
Using an old police cruiser, Ray and Kyle tested their invention. The turbo propulsion took off two to three seconds' acceleration time on each test from zero to sixty. They were elated. They filed their patent the next day. Ray knew the system installed in law enforcement vehicles would give them a distinct advantage.
Then, came the marketing. Kyle seemed to have a keen mind when it came to making money, so Ray turned him loose. With the family scare behind them, Kyle and Courtney moved to Baton Rouge. Courtney took day classes and worked for Pierre Charmant in his gallery at night while Kyle marketed the Reynolds-LaFontaine propulsion system to auto makers during the day and took classes at night.
Ray stayed home. Every morning, he got up, put on his gold retirement watch, went to the gym after Larkin left for the university, came home, and tinkered with one thing or another in the house or worked in his garage. His house-tinkering resulted in more bills than repairs. In three months, an electrician had to rewire the kitchen after Ray shorted out the circuits; a plumber came when Ray's attempt at putting in a new sink and disposal caused the short-circuit; the pool service paid an extra visit when Ray broke the water pump by tightening the screws too tightly; and Larkin became livid when she had to get a computer expert to retrieve a lost file when Ray accidently erased four chapters of the new novel she was writing. Luckily, the man retrieved what he called a ghost file, but Larkin was fed up with Ray's helpfulness.
The next morning when Ray got up and went to put on his gold retirement watch, he found his detective's shield in its place with a note:
Broken (The Raiford Chronicles #3 Book 1) Page 30
