One Week After The Shooting…
Steph and Hector are home. It's getting a little crowded, but I'm not complaining. Hal and Heather are sharing a room. Juan is in with Hector. The three kids, however, are on portable cots in our bedroom. By my count, we still have one empty room. It's a small room for three kids, though. I guess.
I miss having privacy. I miss having my wife all to myself. Mostly, though, I'm grateful that she's safe.
I'd be more grateful if I could get ten minutes alone with her.
I try to tell myself that it'll be easier when Heather and Hal return to Trenton in a few weeks. At least the cops who've been subbing on our team have their own homes.
I sigh and pick my way through sleeping children. The two girls, as usual, are on the same cot. Angel's cot is between them and the door. He was very particular about that.
We have been unable to locate any relatives. Their mother is dead. No one told them. She was taken away in an ambulance after she was stabbed for her welfare money. Apparently, it never occurred to anyone – including the welfare agency – to check on the children. Angel had been supporting them by stealing and dealing for three months. When they were evicted from their apartment, he moved them into an abandoned building. He continued to keep them fed and clothed by stealing the wallets of drunks in the entertainment district. Because of his size, agility, and skin color, he was practically invisible in the shadows.
Steph hadn't pushed him about the identity of the shooter. I think she was too tired at first, and now she's waiting to see if he comes to her. I, however, am most anxious to find out the name of the shooter…. Mostly so I can get to him first. I have great plans for making him suffer. He'll pay for shooting my wife and her best friend.
It's late, but Steph's eyes are open when I slip into bed with her. "Hey," she whispers, smiling.
I kiss her, long and slow. "Hey," I whisper back. "Do you need pain meds?" I put my foot down on the narcotic pain meds they had wanted to give her at the hospital. I remember all too clearly what happened last time. In they end, they sent her home with a prescription for Motrin 800.
When she catches her breath, she shakes her head. "I just took a pill half an hour ago."
"Why are you still awake?" Not that I'm complaining, but she's been worn out the past few days. The cast is heavy, and she hates the crutches. She spends all day trying to make the kids feel safe and keeping them entertained. We don't want Angel outside where he might be seen, and Angel doesn't want the girls outside where they might be seen. Jemma has been bringing a new art project every day. Today she brought special gel pens that show up on a black background. The three kids spent the day decorating Steph's cast. Blockbuster knows me by name – and the worst of it is, they know I'm coming for Disney movies. It's annoying.
"What did Albert say?"
I'm late coming to bed tonight because I've been on the telephone with Albert for three hours. We're trying to make arrangements for Steph and I to legally adopt the kids without involving Social Services. We want to disrupt their lives as little as possible. Placing them in the hands of DSS – however temporarily – fails to strike me as non-disruptive.
As always, we live a morally right but legally gray life. This will be no different.
"He's working on it. We might have to simply pick them up and do this in Trenton." I would rather do this legally, but if it comes down to it, the well being of the kids is far more important than any law.
She sighs and snuggles into my side as best as she can with the cast. "I hope he fixes this soon. I don't like having it hang over their heads."
"I don't either. Albert says he'll come up here if he finds it will be easier."
She nods. "He's going to have to stay in a hotel if he brings Val and the girls. We're out of room at the inn."
I chuckle. "You got that right."
I pull her close and we drift off to sleep.
Three a. m. …Bella is sitting on my chest, sucking her thumb. Anna is standing by the bed, staring at us. "What's wrong, guys?"
"Bella can't sleep," Anna informs me.
I nudge Steph. "Babe."
"Ugh."
"Bella can't sleep."
"Ugh."
"Babe?"
"I'm up." Steph sits up and looks at me, then at Bella sitting on my chest. She lifts the blankets wordlessly. In a heartbeat, both girls are snuggled into our bed, between us. In another heartbeat, both are asleep.
Steph's hand reaches for mine on the pillow above the heads of the sleeping girls. "They'll be fine now, Ranger."
I know she's right. They've done this every night since I brought Steph home. Every night, I wake her, unsure of what to do. What if I lift the blankets for them the way she does and they run away from me? What if I scare them? What if I accidentally knock Bella off my chest when I lift the covers? I don't recall worrying like this why Julie was little. But then, I was gone all the time. By the time she was Bella's age, Rachel and I had separated and were getting a divorce.
I smile as Bella's small arm lands on my stomach when she rolls over. Her face is pressed into my ribcage. I worry about whether or not she can breathe.
"She's fine, Batman. Go back to sleep." How did she know what I was worrying about? I lift my head and look at Steph. I can barely see the grin she flashes at me in the darkness. I put my head back down, smiling myself.
For a few minutes, I lay in the darkness just listening to Steph and the girls breathe. Angel is too far away for me to hear, but I know he's there and I imagine that I can hear him, too. It's a soothing sound.
Finally, I do what my wife told me to do and I go back to sleep, feeling peaceful.
Eight a. m. …At six, I had carefully disentangled myself from the girls and crawled out of bed without waking them. I went for a run, then showered and had breakfast.
At seven, Angel appeared, clean and hungry.
At eight, Jemma sets down a second plate of donuts in front of Angel and tells me to get Steph up before all the donuts are gone. "I only got four dozen!"
Four dozen donuts? Who eats four dozen donuts? Apparently, we do. Well, I don't. But Steph, the kids, the guys, Jemma, Heather… Okay, so I can see how forty-eight donuts might barely be enough for fifteen people. Well, sixteen if you count me, but I don't eat donuts.
I look down at my plate. So maybe I ate a plain donut.
"You've eaten one every day since you got Steph home from the hospital. Now go wake her up." Jemma rolls her eyes at me. Angel grins. I've been eating donuts? I look back down at my plate. I've been eating donuts.
I get off the stool and go downstairs to get the girls.
Between six and now, Steph ended up between the girls. Anna is sleeping next to Steph, their heads on the same pillow. All I can see of Bella on the other side of Steph are her feet. For a minute, I am struck by the scene before me. The Lopez children are light skinned Hispanics. Their skin is the shade of café con leche as Hector's and Lester's skin. Lighter than me by several shades, darker than Steph by just as many. It strikes me that Julie's skin is about the same color. Had Steph and I wanted children of our own, I imagine that they would have had the same skin tone as the Lopez children and Julie. I shake my head. An idea starts to form in my head about how to adopt the children without Social Services. It's a morally right but legally gray move. I file it away for my next conversation with Albert.
I turn my thoughts back to the donuts waiting upstairs. I can't get to Steph without waking the girls. Besides, I don't want them to miss out on donuts. "Babe," I call softly.
No response.
"Babe." A little louder this time.
No response.
"DONUTS."
Magic. The three of them fly out of bed. The little ones continue up the stairs. Steph reaches for her crutches. I scoop her up into my arms and grab the crutches. "Wanna lift, Babe?"
She smiles up at me. "I'd love one."
I carry her up the stairs and deposit her on the couch. She can't manage the stools at the breakfast bar with the cast, and she doesn't like to sit at the dining room table alone. Here on the couch, she's right in the center of things and still comfortable.
Jemma brings her a tray with donuts and coffee. As usual, this makes Steph grin and tell Jemma she loves her. She's got Anna and Bella doing the same thing. If they were related, it would be cute. Since they're not, it's a little scary.
Slowly, the guys filter in along with Heather and Juan. Last night was a work night, so most everyone slept in. Jemma distributes donuts, coffee, bacon and eggs to each person as they appear.
The house seems awfully crowded, suddenly. It dawns on me that the cops and detectives have been filtering in and out at odd times during the day. Right now, I see Franklin, Sullivan, Rodriguez, and the half dozen uniforms that have been subbing for us in the room. At least two of them brought more donuts; I see a couple of Dunkin' Donuts boxes and an assortment of Big Y bags and boxes. At least Jemma won't have to worry about running out of donuts any more today, I think.
I shake my head. I used to be a primarily solitary person in my private life. Since Steph moved into my life permanently, though, that was no longer possible. People are drawn to her. They like to simply spend time in her presence. I can't honestly say I blame them. I'll do anything to bask in her attention, too. No matter how big or demanding the crowed gets, she has a way of making you feel like you're the only one who matters to her. I smile at her. Right now, Franklin and one of the uniforms are sitting with her, along with Cal, Zero and Heather. She's making sure that they all have some of her attention and that Heather doesn't miss anything simply because she can't hear what's going on.
I'm pulled from my thoughts by the sound of Steph's cell ringing. I pick it up off the counter and hand it to her without looking at it. She smiles up at me and thanks me. She distractedly flips the 'phone open and answers it. Silence descends on the room.
"Yo." I love it when she does that. "What? OMIGOD!" She jumps up. That doesn't work so well for her with the cast. Cal grabs her as she starts to tip over. She never misses a beat. "We're on our way." She's reaching for her crutches even as she flips her cell closed. "C'mon. We gotta go. Lula's been admitted to the hospital.
Lester calls for the chopper. Heather promises to watch over Rex. The uniforms agree to work with us for a little longer. I look at Angel. "I need you to make a decision."
The boy gulps and nods. "Okay."
"With us or here?"
He thinks. He looks over at his sisters, who are clinging to Steph, clearly a little frightened. "With you." His voice is firm.
"Pack them up," I order him. He turns and goes downstairs to pack bags for his sisters and himself. Truth be told, everything they have will fit in the three duffle bags they came here with. I have no doubts that he will pack everything they own out of habit.
Forty-five minutes later, we're in the air.
Fifteen minutes after takeoff, both girls are asleep in their seats. Angel is looking out the window, a troubled expression on his face. He turns to Steph. "Why haven't you asked me who shot you?"
She meets his gaze and replies, "You'll tell me when you feel safe."
He looks down at the floor. "We'll never be safe in Springfield. They'll find us."
"You're not in Springfield any longer. If you want, you don't have to go back. I can make arrangements for you to stay in Trenton. I can guarantee your safety and theirs." Steph gestures at the sleeping girls.
Angel's eyes rest on Bella and Anna. His eyes are filled with tears. "Where will you hide them?"
"Either with my sister and her family or in the RangeMan building." She doesn't look at me for permission; she knows I'll do whatever she wants.
Angel's eyes don't leave his sister's. "Why would you hide them with your family?"
"I would hide you with Valerie and Albert because they already have three girls. Val is pregnant again. They're good parents. They'd take good care of you all."
"Why would you hide them in the RangeMan building?"
"Security. It's more secure than the Pentagon or the White House. Cameras. Alarms. Armed guards. There is no place safer. I hid from a violent gang in that building. No one gets in or out without someone knowing. No one gets in if they're unwanted."
Angel nods and looks out the window. The expression on his face says he's thinking. Hard. "I want them kept in the RangeMan building. They'll need supervision if I'm not there."
"Done," Steph says.
Angel drags his eyes away from the window. They fall on the girls. Then he looks at me. "Diego Martinez. They call him El Rey. He scares everyone, and he's killed whole families to keep one person quiet. He runs the biggest local gang, Guarda de la Muerte."
Thank you, Angel. "I'll keep you all safe. I promise." The boy nods at me and looks back to the window, leaning his head on the glass.
"Thank you, " Steph says softly.
Half way to Trenton, all three kids are asleep. I pull out my cell and call Lester, giving him the information that Angel gifted us with. He agrees to pass it on to the police. He fails to promise that he won't kill the guy first. I don't make any real attempt to extract that promise from him.
Trenton…Albert is waiting for us with Morelli and Georgia. They meet us just inside the roof door. Albert and Ella are going to stay with the Lopez children while we go to the hospital. Morelli takes the duffle bags from Angel. Georgia takes a sleepy Bella from me. Anna is hanging on Angel's leg. Albert holds out his hand to Angel and introduces himself. Angel warily responds to him. Anna inexplicably transfers herself from Angel's leg to Albert's. Ella hustles everyone down to the basement. Georgia decides to stay with the children also.
Steph and I follow Morelli out to the garage where an Explorer is waiting. I hand Steph into the back seat and put her crutches on the floor. Then I climb in next to her. Morelli gets behind the wheel and drives us to Trenton General.
Steph looks at me. "It's too early, Ranger. She's still got two months to go." Her voice is strained.
I pick up her hand and squeeze it. "She and her baby will have the best chance modern medicine can give them, Babe. I promise you."
She closes her eyes and rests her head on my shoulder. "Thank you."
Morelli drops us off at the main door, promising he'll come back and get us when we're ready. We head to the elevator for our ride up to Maternity. Steph jabs the elevator button several times. "Babe."
"What?"
I shake my head. "Won't help."
She stomps her good foot in frustration. "Stupid elevator."
I suppress a laugh. Usually, she'll wait three hours for an elevator. The one time she'd rather race up the stairs and she can't. Just as I'm about to offer to carry her up the stairs, the elevator doors open. She hurries in - with me right behind her – and proceeds to jab the floor button repeatedly.
I chuckle and shake my head. "Babe."
She rolls her eyes at me and pokes the button one more time. "Ranger."
The doors finally close and the car begins its ascent to the Maternity floor.
Two hours later…We've been standing outside Lula's room for twenty minutes now. We were sitting with her and Tank until the doc announced he was unable to stop the labor and wanted to discuss options with the parents. Steph had leaned over and hugged Lula, only keeping her balance because I had my arm around her middle. She had whispered something to Lula before standing up and kissing Tank's cheek. I kissed Lula and squeezed Tank's arm before I followed her out into the hall.
Steph doesn't wait well. She refuses to leave the hall to sit in the waiting room. She won't sit on the floor. She won't even stand quietly by my side. Instead, she's doing her best to pace on crutches. A few of the other patients' family members have given her dirty looks, as have staff members. A look from me stopped that. I'm leaning against the wall, my arms crossed, watching her. After the third time she narrowly misses someone's foot with her crutches, I decide it's time to quiet her down. Or, try, at least.
"Babe," I call softly. She turns back toward me and returns to my side.
"What?" she snaps.
"Didn't you get Lula a baby gift?" I know it's in her purse. She's had it there for almost two weeks. We were supposed to come back for a visit a few days after Steph and Hector got shot. Needless to say, we hadn't made it. As she hasn't used her purse since, I know the fluffy bear clad in black spandex is still there.
Distracted at last, Steph drops awkwardly to the floor to rummage through her purse. The whole floor heaves a sigh of relief that the uneven clang-stomp of her pacing has stopped. Even if it's only for a few minutes.
In a frighteningly short period of time, she pulls the bear out of the bottomless pit she calls a handbag. I carried backpacks through the desert in the military that held less than her purse.
She begins to struggle to her feet. I lean down and lift her up, setting her on her feet and leaning her on the wall while I pick up her crutches. She holds up the bear triumphantly. "I found it!"
"I see that." I pull her close and kiss her. Anything to distract her a little longer. She melts into my arms, leaning on me. I allow myself to deepen the kiss. When I finally pull back, she's hanging onto my arms and looking very dazed. If I drop my arms, she'll fall. I don't let her go. I see a nurse down the hall staring at us and fanning herself. Oops. I guess that went on a little longer than it should have. I surreptitiously check our clothing to make sure it's all where it should be. And that all buttons, zippers, and snaps are closed. They are. I mentally heave a sigh of relief. It's easy to get carried away with her.
Just as Steph's eyes are beginning to focus again, Lula's door opens and the doctor tells us that Tank and Lula would like us to go back in. I lift Steph up and carry her in. No point in trying to make her walk when she can't even stand. Besides… Carrying her will hide the evidence of what kissing her does to me. At least, I hope it will. As soon as we're in the room, I settle into a chair by the bed with Steph in my lap. Tank is sitting on the bed with Lula leaning back on him.
"They're going to do a C-section," Lula says softly. Tank's hands move to her shoulders, massaging them.
"It's best for Lula and the baby," Tank tells us. "Less stress."
I look at him. He looks tired. There are lines around his eyes and his mouth is a thin line. Not good signs. I know him well enough to know he's in a blind panic right now. While I try to think of a way to calm him, Steph starts talking. "I'm all for less stress. And, hey, no labor and delivery! Do you know where you get stitches with a normal delivery?" Steph shudders. So does Lula. Tank looks a little confused.
"Where?" he asks.
Steph's jaw drops. I stifle a chuckle. Lula laughs. "Down there," Lula informs him. "Someplace no woman wants stitches."
Tank's eyes widen as his faces loses color and he looks down at Lula's lap. "Ulp," is his only response.
Steph laughs. "No stitches there this time, Tank," Steph reassures him.
He looks relieved and his color comes back. He closes his eyes for a minute and shakes his head. "Thank God."
"So when are you going into the OR, Lula?" I ask, trying to give Tank a moment to regain his composure.
"In a few minutes. When I'm done."
Steph looks at her, confused. "Done with what?"
Lula looks up at Tank. He nods and squeezes her shoulders. "When I'm done asking if you and Ranger will be Godparents."
Steph's eyes are shiny with tears. "Oh, yes, Lula. Of course."
Lula looks at me. "It would be an honor," I tell her.
She and Tank beam at us. Again, I notice how tired he looks. Both of them, actually. "One more thing, Girl."
"What, Lula?"
"I need your permission for something."
"For what?"
"I'm havin' a lil' baby girl. I wanna give her a real special name. Name that means somethin'. A strong name. A name dat give her de bes' chance." As always, the more emotional Lula is, the worse her grammar becomes.
"Why would you need my permission for a name?" Steph sounds totally lost. Tank catches my eye over his wife's head. In a flash, I know what Lula wants Steph's permission for.
"'Cause I wanna give her your name. Sorta."
"What?"
"I wanna name her Michelle Stephanie."
Steph heaves out a sob. "You want to name your baby after me?"
"Don't know anybody stronger." Lula looks upset, like she might have offended Steph.
"Lula wouldn't be here if you hadn't helped her, Babydoll. We wouldn't be together if you hadn't been such a good friend and supported her. You're loyal to your friends. You're a strong woman. You're a good person. We'd be proud to have a daughter just like you, Babydoll." When Tank speaks, people listen. Steph is listening to him now, tears streaming down her cheeks, her body shaking.
"I would be floored if you named your daughter after me, Lula. You have permission to name her anything you want."
Lula sniffs. "Thank you." She presses the call button for the nurse.
When Lula is wheeled out of the room, Tank is by her side. We're told to wait where we are. As the door swings shut behind them, Steph's silent tears turn into loud sobs and she buries her face in my neck. I wrap my arms tightly around her and hang on to this amazing woman for all I'm worth.
Hours later…
Steph cried herself to sleep in my arms. She didn't wake up a few minutes ago when an orderly opened the door to the room and propped it open.
She didn't wake up when Lula's bed was rolled back into the room with Lula sleeping in it.
She didn't wake up when Tank walked into the room.
She didn't wake up when the nurse rolled a hospital crib into the room.
She woke up when I kissed her and rubbed her arm. Blinking, she looks around the room, jumping when she realizes that Tank and Lula are back. I set her on her feet so she doesn't kill herself trying to get up off my lap. She looks at Tank, who gestures to the crib. Steph leans over and peers into the crib. A blinding smile covers her face.
"Ranger, look…"
I get up and join her at the crib. It holds a whole, perfect, beautiful baby girl. A big, healthy looking one. I look at Tank in confusion. This baby does not look premature. At all.
"Lula was further along than anyone thought," he tells me, a grin splitting his face.
"They couldn't tell?" I wonder aloud.
Tank shakes his head, grinning like a fool. "Lula's a big woman," he says proudly. "The baby looked so tiny inside her, and she carried real low."
I laugh out loud in sheer joy. "How'd Lula do?"
Pride suffuses Tank's face. "Like a pro."
"How'd you do?"
"I didn't pass out!"
Steph looks up at Tank. "Nice job, Big Guy."
Tank blushes. I think.
"How is she?" Lula sounds groggy.
"Oh, Lula, she's perfect!" Steph tells her.
Tears trickle down Lula's cheeks.
