Here is Chapter Eleven. Enjoy, and yeah, you were right when you thought the bottum would drop out.
***
The house that Hawkeye had bought when it became apparent that the two of them living with Daniel in the house Hawkeye had grown up in wouldn't work as perfectly as Hawkeye had planned stood only a few block from the original Pierce home, and it to there that Hawkeye retreated when he and Kellye finished painting the babies' room, and she began to draw the rabbits.
"How's it going, son?"
"Oh, fine. She's transformed into a pre-Donald Margaret, but other then that, it's wonderful."
"Pre-Donald?"
"Remember how bossy I told you Margaret could be, when she and Frank were in cahoots? Kellye is bordering on that, although I know she means well."
Daniel shook his head. "Kellye?"
"She wants that room perfect."
"Nothing wrong with that."
"No, but I'm glad I can come here." He took a drink of coffee and grinned at his dad.
***
Kellye's efforts paid off, and the nursery was, as Daniel proclaimed, "A masterpiece!" The walls were pale yellowy-green, cheerful white trim graced the windows, and Kellye's hand-drawn Peter Rabbit pictures played around the walls at Hawkeye's waist level. Above, Kellye had placed several painting she had found featuring rabbits, as well as some newly framed family photographs.
Daniel looked at one showing himself, Hawkeye as a boy, and a lovely dark-haired woman standing under a huge tree. The tree still stood in Daniel's backyard. Daniel blinked at the picture and sighed. "So beautiful."
"She was," Kellye agreed, coming to stand beside him. "The twins should recognize their grandmother, even though they'll never meet her."
***
Hawkeye and Kellye lay in bed, his arms contentedly around her as they both slept, when the ringing phone woke them.
"An emergency at the clinic?" Kellye said, watching Hawkeye get into his robe.
"I'll let you know." He disappeared out the door.
Kellye sat up in bed, putting her arms around her knees, and sighed. The alarm clock read 4:12 AM, and she could hear a fierce late-March wind rattling a tree branch against the window. In her mind she ticked off the possible callers. Kevin and Miranda Harris's baby wasn't due for two more months, and everything was progressing perfectly. She supposed someone could have had an accident but who would be up at four in the—"Kellye!" Hawkeye's shout startled her out of her reverie.
"Kellye! Get down here!" He only spoke like that when it was important. She grabbed her robe and shoved her arms into it was as she hurried down the stairs.
"What is it?"
"Sung Jung is sick. Meg is afraid he might not make it."
"No," the little wail rose in her throat.
"I'm going to Korea. Meg thinks its pneumonia. I have to go."
"I'm coming too." She turned and ran back up the stairs. When she made it to their bedroom she dragged the suitcase out from under the bed and shoved clothes into it, barely registering what she was packing. She couldn't lose another baby. This one she'd held. He couldn't die.
Hawkeye came upstairs long enough to dress, then headed back downstairs and in a minute she heard the car start. He was going to supplies, she realized, and to tell Daniel what was happening. In a few hours, they would book a flight to Korea, and then, oh God, I can't remember how long the flight to Korea is! There are flight changes and…how long? Will Sung Jung be alive when we get there?
When she'd jammed the suitcase full, she pulled on a black skirt, a turtleneck and a heavy sweater, ran a brush through her hair and put it in a ponytail, and dragged the bag down the stairs. She made coffee, because that was what her hands thought she should be doing at this time of the morning.
When Hawkeye got back, he had his medical bag full of what he would need to treat pneumonia, as well as a small suitcase of Daniel's full of other medical supplies. He checked the clock, took a gulp of coffee and called the airport.
Kellye listened to the conversation, wincing as he shouted at the clerk when she tried to talk him into taking an eight AM flight the next day. A half hour later, though, he had it booked. The flight they would be on left Portland, Maine in four hours.
"I packed."
"Good."
"Did you tell Daniel?"
"Yes, and he wishes us the best."
"He can't die."
"I know."
