Another Notch in the Beltway

by L. A. Long

  “Michael Patrick,” she breathed and knelt down by her husband’s side, taking his hand and asking Nate, “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, but I would have been dead if MP hadn’t pushed me out of the way.” Tears ran unashamedly down his face. “Jack…”

  “I know, I saw,” Lenore said in a hushed voice.

  Leaning down, she kissed her husband’s chalk-white face. “I love you, Michael Patrick Finnegan.” Her voice was soft but steady. She was determined to keep herself together for him.

  His blue eyes opened for a moment and showed the depth of his feelings for her. He weakly squeezed her hand, and then reached to touch where their child grew before his hand slipped to the floor.

  Biting back a sob, Lenore frantically felt his neck for a pulse. It was there but weak.

  She could hear the sirens outside the house.

  EMTs raced in and took over from Nate, who been applying as much pressure as he could to the wound.

  “Will he make it?” Lenore asked, terror for him plain to see in her eyes.

  “He’s lost a lot of blood. We need to get him to a hospital stat,” the EMT barked with cool professional efficiency, while he and his partner worked on MP to ready him for the ambulance.

  “Lenore,” Maxwell said gently and reached for her. She startled at his touch.

  “I’ll see to her,” Nate said dismissively.

  ****

  The ride to the hospital was harrowing. They’d lost MP’s pulse twice. When he arrived in the ER, a trauma team immediately whisked him away. Lenore now paced a private waiting room alone.

  Nate arrived a short time later, almost breathless from his haste to get to her. “How is he?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know; they took him away immediately, but it’s not good, Nate.” Tears ran down her face freely now. Her son embraced her.

  “He’s strong and healthy,” he said with confidence that didn’t register on his face.

  Lenore thought he looked incredibly young at that moment, like a scared boy and not a man. She embraced him harder. “He’s lost a lot of blood. The wound is bad, and we don’t know what kind of internal injuries there are.”

  “I’ll go down in a while and donate some blood. I’m a universal donor.”

  She gave a teary smile and touched her son’s face. He was kind and compassionate, and she was proud of him. Lenore said a silent prayer of thanks that he was all right. She’d been praying for her husband and for Jack Maxwell’s soul as well.

  “He saved my life, Mom. If he hadn’t seen the gun, I’m fairly certain I’d be dead.”

  She compressed her lips together to keep the sobs from escaping.

  Nate guided her to a couch and embraced her. “Cry all you want. Get it out of your system. You’ll need to be strong for MP. You’ve always been there for me; let me be here for you now.”

  His words made her weep all the harder.

  As the hours stretched on, Lenore felt more and more helpless. She absently walked the waiting room.

  “Mom, you’ve logged miles. Please sit down. You’re going to wear yourself out.”

  Noticing she was feeling like hell, she sat and asked, “Can you hunt me down some OJ and a bagel or something?”

  “Of course.”

  He returned with not only what she requested but a bag full of other foodstuffs as well.

  “I thought we might be here for a while,” he said while his mother checked out the bag.

  “More like a siege,” she laughed softly. Then, because he needed to know, Lenore said softly, “Nate, MP and I are expecting a baby.”

  A slow, amused smile lit his face. “You can’t seem to get this safe-sex thing nailed down, can you, Mom?”

  In spite of everything, she laughed. “No one knows yet. But in light of everything, you need to.”

  His face sobered, and he hugged her. “Michael Patrick has even more reason to get well.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “As I said before, as long as there are no dirty diapers to go along with brotherhood, I’m good. And I promise to teach him or her every trick I know.”

  She smiled.

  “When?”

  “Thanksgiving. Today it seems appropriate. I hope we’ll have much to be thankful for. I already have you and if MP makes it…” There was a hitch in her voice.

  “He’ll make it, Mom. He’s got you, a new baby, a great stepson…” He gave her a grin.

  Lenore swallowed her tears and took a deep breath.

  Two hours later, the trauma surgeon came to talk to them.

  “Mrs. Finnegan?”

  “Yes, doctor. How is my husband?” Her heart was pounding almost painfully.

  “There was extensive damage to his stomach, kidney, and tip of his liver. The next forty-eight hours will be critical. If we get over that hurdle, chances are good he’ll make it.

  “When can I see him?”

  “He’ll be in ICU once he’s out of recovery. Your husband was conscious for a few minutes before surgery. He made me promise to tell you he loved you and that you are to take care of yourself and the child you’re carrying.” The doctor looked at her as if her husband was delirious when he spoke.

  “He wasn’t delusional; baby’s not due until Thanksgiving.”

  The surgeon smiled. “Congratulations.”

  Once the doctor left, Lenore said, “Nate, honey, why don’t you go and get some rest.”

  “Not until I see MP and know you’re settled. I’d prefer to take you back to the apartment, too, but I know you won’t go.”

  “You’re right. Maybe once I know he’s doing better.”

  “Sit, Mom.”

  She sat.

  “What happened back at Maxwell’s house?” She hadn’t felt either one of them was up to talking about it earlier.

  “I’m not sure.” Nate expelled a big breath, then told her what transpired.

  “I thank God you were in the restroom when it happened. It could have been you and not MP who was shot.”

  Tears were in both of their eyes.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Corrine entered the study and took in her son’s grotesque form. Both Morris and Maxwell had tried to stop her, but she insisted.

  The cops would only let her go so far. The room was a crime scene, after all. Maxwell went and stood next to her. She didn’t bother to acknowledge his presence.

  “There’s nothing else to see, Corrine. It’s over,” Maxwell said in a quiet voice. He moved to take her arm, and she wrenched it away from his reach. Turning, she left the room and ascended the stairs with cold, clear eyes.

  “You’re wife’s a tough one.”

  Maxwell made some grunt that passed for assent.

  “There’s a note, Senator,” one of the officers said kindly.

  It was evidence and already bagged and tagged. As the cops said, the room was a crime scene.

  Byron took it by the corner of the bag and both he and Morris read it.

  It was written in a big messy scrawl of half printing and half cursive lettering.

  Hey, Corrine and Senator:

  At least I can say I went out with a bang. LOL

  Corrine, are you happy now? No more Nathan Held and you didn’t even have to kill him. You always wanted him dead. Will you love me in death for ending his existence? Probably not, I don’t think you’re capable of the emotion, mother dearest.

  Senator, how does it feel to have no heirs only airs? Dead, everyone one of us. But I think Nate was the best of the lot. Was it because he wasn’t Corrine’s, or because he was conceived from love, or because Lenore Held raised him? No one will ever know.

  Tell Lenore I apologize for taking her son, but it was something I needed to do.

  Over and out.

  Jack James Maxwell

  PS: I’ll want a closed casket. LOL!!!

  “He didn’t even wound Nathan Held, let alone kill him. It remains to be seen if MP Finnegan will make it,” Morris said darkly. �
��While I support a lot of things, murder isn’t one of them.”

  Maxwell sighed. “I guess he figured he had nothing to lose.”

  “I don’t think he had much to begin with, Byron.”

  The senator nodded.

  “Where did he get the gun? Looks like a Colt .357 Magnum.”

  “Corrine’s father’s collection. It’s missing from the gun safe. He inherited them. He had the key to the safe. Carter never liked guns, but Jack was fascinated by them. He must have taken it out when he got home last week.”

  “Great,” Morris said with a disgusted tone. “You might want to talk to an attorney about anything criminal that could come back to bite you and your wife. Off the top of my head, I’m not thinking of anything, but I’m not a criminal attorney.”

  “I can’t see how. He was an adult, the guns were his—”

  “I already said I didn’t know, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. You might want to keep your wife on a tight leash, too. Who knows what she’s capable of?”

  “Right now I’m going to call the hospital and check on MP Finnegan. He saved my son’s life. I’m not sure I would have taken a bullet for Nate.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t have. As I’m sure Finnegan never stopped to think about taking a bullet instead of Nate. Rather his goal was to keep him safe for Lenore. He’s a man with balls and integrity.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  There was a chair bed in MP’s room, and Lenore had not left him for more than a few moments at a time and then only to tend to her most basic needs.

  Nate had brought her a change of clothes and her and MP’s laptops so she’d have something to do while sitting there for so many hours.

  She went into a file he had entitled “Wee One.” It was a diary for their unborn child. Lenore, carving a connection to MP, began to read it. She discovered that he wrote to the baby when she slept and he kept watch on the bed.

  Wee one:

  Last night your mum told me you might be swimming around in her womb, and this morning we found out that she was right. Your mum is one smart lady, and you’d do well to remember that if you ever try and pull anything over on her…

  Baby mine:

  You’re making your mum so tired. Go easy on her. You and I were a major surprise in her life, and now we’ve totally taken over…

  Little One:

  Your mum was talking to you this morning, and it was the most beautiful thing to hear and see. She tenderly circled her hands around where you’re nesting and told you how much you are wanted and loved. She took my breath away…

  Lenore read through all the entries, tears stinging her eyes and burning the back of her throat. She decided to pick up where MP left off and started typing.

  Hearing MP stir a little while later, she went to his bed. They were only sixteen hours through the first forty-eight. She looked at all his monitors. They seemed to be registering okay, at least based on what she knew: blood pressure 118/83; pulse 68; sinus rhythm on the EKG.

  “Michael Patrick, mo chuisle,” she said, taking his hand and kissing him lightly.

  He squeezed her hand.

  “Thank you for saving Nathan for me. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost him.”

  Tears were spilling down her face. He’d turned his head to look at her, eyes barely open. He must have seen the tears as he gallantly tried to offer her the corner of his bed sheet.

  “No handkerchief today?” she asked, understanding what he was trying to do. Yanking several tissues from the box, she dried her eyes. “I love you. The surgeon relayed your message to me and to the nursing staff. They’ve been taking good care of us. Lots of juice and carbs.”

  He reached out a hand. She stood close to the bed, afraid if she sat on it she’d set off the alarms on the machines or jar him.

  Lenore gently took his hand and placed it on her belly.

  “Our baby is snuggled and safe.” There was no one about so she lifted her shirt and put his hand on her skin.

  She saw the flicker of a smile. “Soon I’ll be sporting maternity wear and granny panties,” she said lightly. “You need to rest and get better. I’m right here if you need me.” She sat back down but he wanted her hand. She let him hold it, needing the connection as much as he did.

  Nate came in the early evening; Lenore didn’t want him to miss classes.

  “Mom, take a break. I’ll sit with MP. Go take a shower, comb your hair, and brush your teeth.”

  She laughed. “I’m not that bad.”

  “No, but you’ll feel better. Plus, MP would expect me to take you to task for not taking care of yourself.”

  “Everyone’s been very kind here.”

  “Good, they should be. You’re easy to be kind to. Now go.” He pecked her cheek.

  Reluctantly she went.

  ****

  Nathan walked to the bed and looked at MP. A wave of emotions swamped him: thanks, grief, relief, fear.

  “I sent your wife to take care of herself. Figured you’d want me to look after her while you’re recovering.”

  MP gave the barest nod. While not Nate’s natural inclination, he stepped to the bed to take his stepfather’s hand. “Thanks for knocking me out of the way. I’m sorry you were hit.” He received a weak squeeze in return. “Rest. Mom will be back shortly, I’m certain.”

  ****

  Lenore was startled awake by alarms going off and people running into the room.

  “Get him to OR stat,” the surgeon on call ordered as he ran beside Michael Patrick’s high-tech bed.

  She didn’t even have time to gasp out a question but knew whatever was going on was sudden and life-threatening.

  Staff was doing what they needed to do to save her husband. Lenore willed herself to stay calm and out of their way. Her hands shook uncontrollably, this time out of sheer terror at the thought of losing him so soon after she’d found him, after they’d found each other.

  Lenore took a deep breath and sipped some orange juice. Noting the OJ still had ice in it, she couldn’t have been dozing all that long. Whatever threatened MP had developed very quickly.

  She called Nate to let him know that MP had been rushed back to surgery. Despite her telling him to stay home, he was coming.

  “Mrs. Finnegan,” an ICU nurse said softly.

  Lenore looked up, waiting for news.

  “Your husband’s bleeding internally. His blood pressure dropped drastically. The surgeon is trying to locate the bleed and stop it.”

  She nodded numbly, knowing the nurse would only evade or vaguely answer questions. Instead she said, “Please let me know when you hear something. I’ll be in the ICU lounge.” She couldn’t bear MP’s empty room.

  “He’s strong and healthy, Mrs. Finnegan. Those are both on his side.”

  “Yes,” Lenore said turning as she heard feet approaching, hoping it was Nate. But it was Byron Maxwell. He’d called the hospital several times to check on MP’s condition. She never dreamed he’d show up here with all the press around.

  “How is he?” Maxwell asked, attempting to embrace her.

  Stepping out of his reach, she replied, “In surgery.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t wish to discuss my husband’s condition with you, Senator. Please leave us alone. There is no reason for you to have any contact with us.”

  “I was concerned. Finnegan saved our son’s life.”

  “My son. And I’m more grateful than you’ll ever know. But now he’s fighting for his own life.”

  He didn’t say anything but tried to embrace her again.

  “Please don’t touch me,” Lenore started.

  “Leave her alone,” Nate snarled, coming through the door.

  “I, I was trying to help,” Maxwell stammered.

  “Then go donate blood, or go pray in the chapel for his recovery. But leave my mother alone.”

  Maxwell looked at his son for a long moment. “We should get to know each other,” he said.


  “I know all I want to know about you, Senator, and if I wasn’t good enough to know for the last twenty-one years, I’m not good enough to know now.” He saw that his mother was pale and needed to sit down. “Please go,” he said softly to Maxwell, “if not for my sake, then for my mother’s. She’s got enough to deal with without you being here.”

  “Lenore,” Maxwell said, ignoring Nate, “if you leave here, be careful; there are press everywhere. The murder/suicide note was leaked.” Maxwell gave her a copy of several articles he’d printed from the Internet. “Your names are out there now.”

  “Damn it to hell,” Nate spat. “Thank goodness I wore sunglasses and a stocking cap to sneak in.”

  Lenore listed.

  “Sit down before you fall down.” Nate guided her to a couch.

  “Please go, Senator. Have the press film you giving blood. I’m sure Morris would agree it’d be a great PR stunt. Senator Byron Maxwell gives blood in honor of the man who saved his bastard’s life—details at six and eleven.”

  “Lenore…” Maxwell said.

  “Nate’s right. Please go. There’s nothing you can do here. I’ll have my attorney release a statement. I won’t comment to the press myself. I’m going to do my level best not to have any contact with them.”

  “I’m sorry this happened.”

  Feeling wary of the man’s presence, she said, “I’m sure you are, but I want to be left alone with my son for a few minutes.” And to say several prayers for my husband’s recovery, she thought.

  “Perhaps I’ll go donate blood,” the senator finally said.

  “Good idea,” Nate said, turning himself and his mother away from the man.

  “How is he?” Nate finally asked when Maxwell departed.

  “Not good.” She explained what little she knew.

  “He’ll get through this.”

  She took a big gulping breath.

  Nate held her as she cried.

  “Thank you,” she managed when Nate gave her a white handkerchief.

  “Noticed MP always had one ready, so I figured I’d get with the program.”

  She gave him a watery smile.

  Then Nate continued, “I saw the news before I came over. I didn’t want to get into it with Maxwell here, so I pretended not to know, but I called Walker and asked him to release the most bare-bones statement. I hope that was okay. I hadn’t planned on talking to you about this until Michael Patrick was out of the woods, but my sperm donor took that option away.”