Chapter 35: Plans
The next morning, Vincent slid out of his bed in the Sinclair house, careful not to wake Katrina. He went downstairs and poured himself some cereal before sitting down at the kitchen table to think.
"I'm going to be a father. Me. A father."
"Well if it isn't the daddy-to-be," his brother said as he walked into the room, stretching his arms above his head.
Vincent looked up with a sheepish grin. Bo began to laugh.
"I never thought I'd see you look like that. Hell, I never thought I'd be tellin' you congratulations on havin' a kid, either."
"It seems so surreal."
"Sur-whatever or not, there's a problem with this. How's the girl gonna have the baby? She's scared shitless about havin' it here."
"What can we do?" Vincent asked worriedly.
"I've been thinkin' about that. There's a lot of shit that could be done, but none that are safe enough."
"Like what?"
"She could get state medical aid so she can get the doctor and hospital shit free. But that'd involve her givin' her information to the State of Louisiana, and that wouldn't work."
"Why?"
"She's underage. That's a problem. They'd want to know about her family and all that shit. And even if we said she's eighteen, they'd want social security numbers and identification and an address."
Vincent began chewing on his lip, staring down at his cereal with a fearful expression.
"Wait a minute," Bo said thoughtfully, "what about a midwife?"
"Dad always said they're crocks."
"It's better than nothin', isn't it? That way Kitten could pop it out here at the house, and we can just kill the midwife afterwards."
"But what about money? Would we be able to pay a midwife? Won't she ask for the money up front?"
Bo's grin faded. "That's right. But we can still look into it. Maybe the bitch'll take payments or something."
Vincent nodded in agreement. "It's worth a try."
"If worst comes to worst, when Kitten goes into labor, I'll just take her to the emergency room. I don't think they can turn her away if she can't pay. I can make up some bullshit on the paperwork. I'll say we forgot our I.D.'s at home."
"Won't they want to keep her in the hospital for a while?" Vincent asked. "They'll expect you to bring them in sooner or later."
Bo sighed. "I forgot. Fuck!"
"Maybe Katrina has an idea."
"I think she would have said something if she did. She's probably known from the first she was pregnant. I bet all she's been thinkin' of is tryin' to figure out a way to deliver the kid safely."
"I can't let anything happen to her."
"I know," Bo answered, his tone echoing with worry.
Vincent looked at him with surprise. Bo usually never showed any emotions, much less admit he was worried about someone's welfare.
"It's my nephew you're talkin' about!" Bo said angrily. "The next generation of Sinclair's! Do you think I don't care about that? Or Katrina? Shit, Vincent, I actually love the bitch!" He grinned at the jealousy that flashed in Vincent's eye. "You fuckin' freak. I mean like a sister. She's grown on me. Never met another girl like her in my entire life. You're fucking lucky, Vincent."
An uncomfortable moment passed between the men, neither of them used to discussing love or women or anything else intimate.
"You're gonna have to marry her, you know," Bo told his brother as he lit a cigarette, desperate to break his discomfort. "I'll do the ceremony."
"But you're not a priest."
"No, but who needs one that's ordained? I'll just do the Wedding Mass out of that old missal. Everything's already written there that we'll need to say and do."
Vincent chewed his lower lip. "I don't know."
"Just do it," Bo said irritably, already making plans in his head. "Ask her tonight. We'll do the wedding when she gets a dress."
"Why's it so important that we do this?"
Bo took a long drag of his cigarette and shrugged. "So your kid's not a bastard. And it'll make Kitten happy. You'll see. Girls love all the wedding shit."
"But it won't be real."
"To her, it will be. I'm sure you have rings and shit somewhere in that lair of yours. Go find some."
"But . . ."
"Just go fucking do it, Vincent!"