Broken (37 page)

"Did somebody lose a passport?"

"No, I gained a son."

Raif could not help but chuckle. "I'm twenty dollars richer. I made a bet with Neely that they would come back married. It's okay, Ray. They're good together."

"I realize that, or I would've thrown a fit."

"You would've lost anyway. Tell them I send my congrats, and I apologize for cheating them of their wedding night."

"Merci, mon frère."

"Ray, she's a grown woman, and a married woman. Just wait until it's Cherie."

"I think I'll lock my little Firecracker in her room for life."

"Might be a good idea. I would venture to say she'll be your real trial. You've had no trouble from your kids. Your time is coming."

"I love you, too. Seriously, tell Patrick we're on our way and already praying. These international flights take a while. It won't be tomorrow."

41

An Off Year

T
hree
days after the accident, Ray and his family went straight to the hospital from the airport. They arrived only hours after Trista, Lindsay, and Dupree. Townes was once again at sea.

There had been no change in Jenna's condition. She was still in a coma, and the stress on Patrick's face aged him twenty years.

The details of the accident were finally available. A tractor-trailer had hydroplaned in the pouring rain and jackknifed on I-10. The trailer had collided with Jenna's car and two others, crushing all of them. A total of five occupants of the other two vehicles were killed, and the driver of the rig was also in critical condition.

Days stretched into weeks before the doctor broached a subject he knew would break a young man's heart, perhaps, twofold. Finally, Dr. Sinise had little choice. Patrick would have to make a decision or wait a very long time to change his mind. He talked to Patrick openly and honestly in the presence of his family.

"Patrick, you have to decide. Do we terminate life support and pray for a miracle or keep it going for the baby? There's low-level brain activity."

"So? She's not brain dead?"

"No, but if you wait much longer, this facility will be forced to maintain life support until we can deliver the baby. I would like that to be a minimum of thirty-six weeks. Jenna is around eighteen weeks."

Patrick snorted softly. "Some choice there. Do I allow both my wife and child to die, or do I wait and allow only my wife to die? I want both of them."

Patrick looked around at his family.

"Follow yer 'eart, Patrick," said Gram Thornton, tears streaming down her face.

Neely took Patrick's hand. "Believe in miracles," she whispered.

"Dad?" Patrick asked pitifully.

"I can't make this decision for you, son."

"Patrick," said Ray, "I was faced with the same choice when Parker was shot."

"He's alive, Uncle Ray."

"Yes. He took the choice out of my hands. He woke up. Go talk to Jenna."

"She can't hear me."

"Are you sure? Dr. Sinise said she has low-level brain activity."

Patrick stared at his uncle. He gave a quick nod and went to his wife. Patrick sat by Jenna's bed. He held her hand against his stubbly cheek. "Oh, my beautiful, exquisite Irish Spring. How I need you to blow a soft breeze over me right now. I just cannot let you go." Patrick laid his head on Jenna's abdomen and wept silent tears. The slightest twitch of Jenna's hand roused him.

"All right," he said as if Jenna had spoken to him.

Patrick returned to the waiting room. "This is how it is," he said. "Worst possible scenario—disconnect life support, they both die. I won't do that. Jenna would never forgive me if I let anything happen to this baby. We had talked about a family, but we were waiting for her to finish her degree. Keep the life support going. We'll take the baby when it's time. Then, we'll get Jenna to wake up if she doesn't before."

"Patrick," said Dr. Sinise, "Jenna's care will get very expensive."

"We'll manage," Patrick stated.

"Very well. After the baby's delivered, if she doesn't wake up, we'll make more decisions then. Honestly, I didn't expect a different choice from you, but I'm required to give you every alternative. I'll be bringing in Dr. Terres, a well-respected OB-GYN. She'll make all the decisions regarding the baby."

After that, weeks became months. Patrick's family spelled his vigil, taking turns sitting with Jenna and always talking to her and praying in her presence. Patrick bought Jenna pretty, but sensible, lingerie to wear in her sleeping state. Her crowning glory, her copper wavy hair that had been shorn for surgery, began to grow back.

Every day, Patrick himself groomed and bathed his wife.

Still, she slept.

Every day, he helped the physical therapist with exercises to keep the young woman's muscles from atrophy.

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."