Chapter Two
Ray's Apartment ….
Ray turned up his third can of A&W Root beer when he heard the phone ring. Sitting on the couch, he grabbed the remote to mute the hockey game while Fraser grabbed the phone.
"Ray Vecchio's residence, Benton Fraser speaking." He answered clearly.
"Ray, it's your mother." Ben handed his unlikely partner the receiver then returned to his seat on the opposite end of the couch.
"Hi, Ma, how's Deliverance territory?" Ray's gaze didn't leave the television screen as he listened to his mother's voice telling him about Rachel's condition.
"I'm what?" The blond detective leaned forward, setting his aluminum can on the coffee table where his feet had been propped up a moment before. Fraser slid a cork coaster beneath the damp can.
"That's crazy, why would Rachel do such a dumb thing?" Ray's brows knit as he looked at the television, this time not seeing the action. "When are you and Dad, uh, driving back, er do I need to fly to Kentucky to pick up, to, uh, pick up baby Ramona?" Fraser listened intently to his friend's side of the conversation but his keen ears could discern Mrs. Kowalski's voice over the phone line.
"Alright, Ma, I'll fly out first thing, love you too, Ma, you and Dad take care." Ray hung up the phone, still in shock from the news.
"Your cousin made you her daughter's legal guardian?" Fraser asked, though he knew the answer.
"Queer, ain't it, Rachel's like my younger sister but, this is just a kick in the head." Ray ran his hands down his face, trying to figure out his cousin's screwy logic.
"I'm certain she trusts you to take care of her daughter as well as she would if she were able." Ben offered,
"Ah, Frase, ninety percent of the time you end up takin' care of me, how am I gonna take care of a newborn?" Ray shook his head, his mind still blown.
"You have an adequate support system consisting of both your parents, myself, Francesca and Lieutenant Welsh." Ben pointed out.
"What's that old sayin', the ah, the best care is mommy care, somethin' like that." Ray ran his fingers through his gelled, blond hair.
"A true statement, unfortunately a mother isn't always capable of caring for her child." The Mountie thought back to his own mother and was grateful anew for his grandparents and their willingness to take on a child in their old age.
"Wonder why Tommy's family didn't take the baby?" Ray turned the subject in a different direction. He didn't want to shirk his responsibility but he didn't think he was the right guy for the job either.
"Perhaps there are numerous reasons, I would assume he was in complete agreement for you to be the baby's legal guardian or they would have made other arrangements." Ray looked over at his logical friend and knew Fraser was right.
"Guess I better call Welsh and tell him I'm gonna be off work for a, for a few days." Ray picked up the telephone and began dialing his superior officer.
"Perhaps I could accompany you, Ray, there isn't anything particularly pressing going on at the consulate just now, I'm certain Inspector Thatcher would be willing to grant me leave for a few days." Fraser volunteered. The Mountie's secondary motivation was exploration. All he knew of the Appalachian region of the United States had come from his grandparents' library, the majority of that information he suspected was outdated and incorrectly stereotypical.
"Greatness, buddy, you speak hillbilly with all those other languages you're always spoutin?" Ray teased, grinning as Lt. Welsh answered his home phone. The look the Mountie gave him told Ray that he didn't appreciate his humor in the least.
After telling Welsh the reason he needed a few days off, the older officer laughed on the other end of the line. It wasn't what Ray had hoped or expected to hear.
"Is the Mountie going with you?" Welsh asked, still amused at the thought of Ray being responsible for a child.
"Yeah, he's goin'. Ray answered, one hand massaging the bridge of his nose.
"Best of luck, Detective." Welsh said with a chuckle before hanging up.
"Yeah, thank, Lieutenant." Ray put the phone back on the cradle, glaring at it as if it were Welsh. A few minutes later Fraser had made similar arrangements with Thatcher.
Seven O'clock the Next Morning ….
"Good morning, Ray, beautiful day isn't it." Fraser greeted his friend, taking a deep breath of air as they met outside the consulate. The blond detective looked at him through one open eye like he should have his head examined. Fraser ignored him, it wasn't the first time someone had given him that look, he knew it wouldn't be the last.
"We should be going, our flight will leave in just over two hours, seventeen seconds." Fraser picked up his rucksack and slipped his Stetson on as Ray got out to open the trunk of the GTO.
"How are you such a, a, whatcha call it, a morning person?" Ray grumbled, his large McDonald's coffee in his free hand.
"I always have been, Ray. Why aren't you bright eyed and bushy tailed?" Ben asked his friend, watching him turn one blue eye at him with disgust.
"If you want bright eyed and bushy tailed, go catch a squirrel, Fraser." Ray wrinkled his nose and slammed the trunk.
"Suit your self, Ray, but how you chose to greet the morning determines how well the rest of your day goes." Fraser settled himself into the front seat of the American muscle car.
Ray cocked an eye brow as he slid the classic beauty into gear and took off toward O'Hare Airport.
Bluegrass Airport ….
The low foothills of the Appalachian Mountains settled into farm country surrounding Lexington, Kentucky, self proclaimed 'Horse Capital of the World'. Crystal clear blue skies with puffy, dumpling clouds greeted the arriving pair from the mid-west. Lexington, one of the largest, most influential cities in the region, was barely a drop in the bucket compared to Chicago. Still, the city sprawled into what had once been large, tobacco farms only two generations before.
"Ray, did you know that Abraham Lincoln was the only United States president to have a patent?" Fraser asked, looking out the window of the plane at the green expanses below.
"No, sure didn't, only thing I know about Honest Abe is that he's on the five dollar bill." Ray looked straight ahead, trying to remain calm by watching the flight attendant passing down the aisle.
After landing at the Bluegrass Airport, Ray and Fraser hailed a cab. A guy with a baseball cap on pulled up and put it in gear. He had a contented smile on his face and a three day beard.
"Where ya'll headed, boys?" The driver asked looking in the rear view mirror.
"VA Hospital, thank you kindly." Fraser answered, tucking his ruck sack between him and Ray. The driver pulled into the flow of traffic and found his way onto New Circle Road. Arching around Lexington, it passed all the major spots in the city.
"Where you boys from if you don't mind me askin'?" The driver asked, glancing in his rear view mirror as he navigated around several of UK's buildings.
"Chicago." Ray answered, looking at the comely coeds walking down the sidewalk.
"The North West Territories of Canada." Fraser answered, his keen eyes taking in the variety of vegetation growing in the flower beds in front of the Georgian style buildings along Rose Street.
"Say again, Mister?" The driver stopped at a red light and turned to hear Fraser more clearly.
"I'm an officer with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, as a child I spent part of my childhood in Tuktoyuktuk located in the North West Territories." Fraser clarified in his wordy fashion.
"You're yankin' my chain, ain't ya Mister." The driver chuckled, taking off his baseball cap and scratching his buzz cut.
"He's the real McCoy, buddy, see the big hat, don't get him started or we'll be here all day listening to Inuit stories." Ray leaned forward in the seat to look the guy in the eye. The driver just shook his head, wondering where these foreigners came from. The wiry fella, he was an American alright, but the other one, he was something else.
"Here you go fellas, have a good one." They pulled up to a tall, dull looking building with two large letters seeming to peer down on them from the fifth or sixth floor. Ray slid out and pulled the cab fare from his wallet.
"Hey, Mister, can I ask a favor?" The cab driver hollered out the window as Fraser stepped onto the sidewalk.
"Yes, Sir?" The Mountie slipped his Stetson on and leaned down to look in the driver's window.
"My little girl thinks Canadian money is pretty, I'd trade you for a coin or somethin', she puts 'em up with her coin collection." He shifted around until he'd pulled out his wallet. Fraser saw the flash of bills, what few there were, and took his Stetson off. He pulled out a bill and handed it to the man.
"She'll love it when I told her I met a Mountie today." The driver grinned, thinking of his little girl's reaction to the story. He pulled a five and a few ones out of his wallet to offer Fraser in return for a one.
"Thank you kindly, Sir, but consider it a tip." The Mountie declined with a smile and a nod.
"Thanks, Mister, ya'll have a good visit." With a wave of this baseball cap the driver pulled back into traffic.
"And I thought you stood out in Chicago." Ray snickered as he dragged his suitcase onto the sidewalk.