"No. Wait. Hear me out.” Jake held a hand up. "I’ve been living my life in fear, fear that I would end up like my mom. I've been so afraid to make a decision because I didn't want to face the consequences of making the wrong choice."
She reached across to touch his hand. "You don't have to do this..."
"Ma'am," said the guard by the door, "no contact."
She glanced his way, then back at Jake. "We don't have to jump into this."
"Do you have a stick of gum?" he asked, holding out his hand.
"A what?"
"Gum, you know, the Big Red you always keep in your purse."
She gave him a look, then dug the pack out of her purse.
"Slide me a stick."
She pulled one out and pushed it across the table.
He picked it up, tore the paper and silver coating off, and put the stick in his mouth. "Mmm-mmm, that is de-licious," he said.
"I'm glad you like it," she said, baffled by his behavior.
He took a couple more chews, then leveled his eyes on her. "Jenna, I have loved you from the first moment I saw you playing hacky sack in the college courtyard. I have never been more sure about anyone in my life. This is not about the baby. This isn't about being pressured to marry you. This is about me saying I should have been a man and married you years ago. It was my childish fear that drove you to that clinic. You didn't want me to choose you because of a baby. You wanted me to choose you because I love you, and this is me telling you—I love you Jenna. Even if there was no baby, you are the only person I could ever see spending the rest of my life with."
Her fingers squeezed on the strap of her purse, and the tears began to flow.
He brought up a silver ring he had made from the tin foil of the chewing gum wrapper. "I realize this is silver, but it's all I have to work with, and I don't want to let another day go by without asking."
She brought her hand to her chest, and gasped for air.
"Jenna, will you marry me?" His own eyes were watering now as he held the ring up, pinched between his thumb and index finger.
"Yes," she squealed. "Yes, I'll marry you!"
He held the silver ring out exactly half way between them and said, "No contact..."
She reached up and slid her finger slowly through the hole in the wrapper ring.
The officer at the door didn't say a word, only gave a subtle nod and a pressed smile.
Chapter 54
Angela Grant followed a uniformed officer down the cell block of the local county lockup, feeling strangely apprehensive about her impending visit. This was the last place on earth she expected to be. The Sunbury authorities had everything well in hand, and Perez was already on a flight back to Washington. A visit like this was highly unorthodox and even mildly frowned upon. The case was closed, and any continued involvement on her part showed an emotional investment which might cast a shadow on her ability to be objective with this or future cases.
"This is it," said the officer, swiping his keycard on the door lock. He opened it a crack and gave her the handle.
The door opened slowly to reveal Jake Paris sitting on the edge of his bunk. He gave a sheepish smile and a limp wave.
"This better be good, Mr. Paris,” she said, stepping into the cell. "I'm supposed to be on a flight to Washington." His eyes looked down by her leg, and then flicked back up. She looked down to see if perhaps there was something on her pants.
"I was never a man who believed in coincidences," he said, "but I had one phone call to make, and your business card was the only thing in my pocket."
She assessed the implication of his statement. "I don't know how you think I can help you. You were caught breaking into a private facility..."
"I know, but I was thinking if you knew why, you might consider putting in a good word for me."
"I'm sorry you wasted your phone call on me, I'm afraid I can't help you." She turned to knock on the cell door.
"Wait. I need to ask a question. Just one question."
"And that would be?" She made an attempt to mask her irritation, but not much of an attempt.
He was looking at her leg again. "What were you supposed to tell me?"
She squinted at him. "I wasn't supposed to tell you anything.” She paused. "Mr. Paris, my eyes are up here."
He pulled his eyes up and stammered. "Sorry." They went back down, up, then down again.
"What did you think I was supposed to..." His erratic behavior made her pause. "Are you all right?"
A big grin stretched across his face. "I knew it!"
"Listen, I don't have time for games. If you're looking to plead insanity, you have to convince your lawyer, not me."
"You're gonna fwee me." His eyes widened and he cleared his throat. "I mean, free me."
Agent Grant stared at him, incredulous. "And why would I do that?"
He thought for a second, then his face grew bold. "Because your daughter says you will."
She squinted. "What? I don’t have a... ”
"I know this is weird, but please, just hear me out."
She shifted position like a caged animal.
"I know you’re pregnant with a daughter, because I can see her. She is standing in front of you right now."
Her eyes narrowed. "You’re insane."
He looked down again. "She says she’s sorry about making you sick."
Without realizing it, Angela’s right hand slid off her hip and rubbed her belly. "A lot of woman have morning sickness," she said defensively.
He listened. "No? Not morning?"
Her heart started to pound. "Okay. Whatever you’re doing, stop it right now."
"At night? It happens every night at the same time?"
"Mr. Paris!”
"Listen, I’m not making this up. She’s right here. She has curly blond hair and penetrating blue eyes and..."
Angela turned to leave. "This is over..."
His voice intensified. "She looks just like a little Cabbage Patch girl. She's wearing a yellow dress and..."
The room began to shrink around her. "What did you just say?"
He looked back up. "What? She looks like a little Cabbage Patch girl?"
She could hardly believe her ears. "My father...” Her eyes took on a faraway look. "He used to call me his little Cabbage Patch girl—when I was very young.” Her voice trailed off.
Jake looked down at her leg again. "She says she’s taking good care of Grammy’s bunny.” His eyes fluttered as if he were studying the imaginary thing. "She carries him everywhere. She says she loves him; he’s her favorite.”
Angela was utterly speechless.
"What?” He leaned in to listen to her knees. "He has a name? Mr. Hairs?”
Angela became rigid. "Okay, that’s enough. How do you know that name?
"So, it means something to you?”
"Yes, it means something,” she snapped. "My mother had a stuffed rabbit named Mr. Hairs. I used to play with it as a child. It’s sitting in a box in the attic. But how could you have possibly known that?!”
His face grew exasperated. "She’s telling me...”
She rolled her eyes. "The baby inside me is telling you this?”
"I can see her standing right in front of you,” he said. "For some inexplicable reason, for the past two days, I’ve been seeing unborn children, including my own. That's why I broke into that clinic. I met my unborn daughter, and when I found out my girlfriend was going to the clinic, what else could I do but try to rescue her?” he pleaded. "Wouldn't you have done the same?"
Angela explored his face for deception, but saw instead an undeniable sincerity. "I have to admit, whatever scam you're trying to pull..."
"It’s not a scam, Agent Grant. I’m telling you the truth. I’m just an ordinary guy trying to make sense of all this. I have a beautiful fiance who is carrying my little girl, and I just want to be with them. If what your daughter says is true, and you can help me get out of here—please—I’m just asking that you try.
”
She heaved a deep sigh. "I can’t believe I am about to say this—but—who am I to argue with my unborn daughter? I’ll see if I can persuade the clinic to drop the charges. Under one condition.”
"Anything.”
"Never bring this up again. Are we clear?”
"Crystal.”
Chapter 55
Jake held Gabe on his lap as he sat chatting with Holly and Dan in the waiting room of the maternity ward. He couldn't believe it. They had managed to stay together long enough to see the birth of his daughter. He never would have called that one. There had been times when he thought for sure they were finished, but somehow they’d managed to make it work. In some strange way they seemed to enjoy fighting, or maybe it was the making up they enjoyed. He didn't know, but it was good to see them still together.
They were good for each other. She hadn't touched alcohol or drugs since the crisis with her son, and he had stopped spending every non-working hour in his living room engrossed in frivolous entertainment. There were even rumors that they had done family things together, like, picnics in the park and miniature golf. If Jake didn't know better, he might have thought Dan had finally grown up—but that perception quickly vanished when Dan opened his mouth.
"So, what's the return policy here?"
Jake laughed and Holly stabbed Dan with her elbow.
Dan looked at Gabe, "Not that we would ever think of returning you, even though you are a little defective."
Gabe produced a playful glare. He liked it when Dan teased him, or when Dan did anything for that matter. Gabe was still young enough to attach himself to a father figure, and he had latched onto Dan with everything he had. Jake hoped his friend had the good sense to marry his sister and make things official, but that was for them to decide.
"Jake?" In the doorway of the waiting room was a young freckle-faced boy whose lip was too short to cover his top teeth. "The contracthions are clother now," he said with his subtle lisp.
Jake looked at Dan and Holly. "I better get back to Jenna, if she’ll let me back in the room." He smiled.
He left them and followed the boy down the hall, through the double doors, and to the doorway of the room where his wife lay with Aiyana by her side. A man he knew as Joshua sat in a chair in the far corner near the curtain drawn window. The nurse was placing a clipboard at the foot of the bed. Jake motioned for Aiyana to join him in the hall, so she hopped off the bed and came out to where Jake sat crouched.
"I know we've already talked about this, but I'd like to say one last goodbye," he said softly.
"It's not goodbye,” she said, "It's hello.”
"I know, but it feels like goodbye."
She rubbed his shoulder with her tiny hand.
"Will you even remember all the fun we’ve had hiding you from your mother these last eight months? Me reading you stories before bed, or staying up late watching old television shows together?"
Aiyana thought for a moment. "Well, at first I’ll remember.” She thought again. "But by the time I can talk, it’ll just be a good feeling, in here." She put her fingertips on her heart.
He took her hands into his. "We’ve already had such an amazing journey, so it’s hard to believe this is only the beginning. I know you've told me a hundred times in a hundred different ways that you'll still be the same person, but it’s going to be different. For one thing, I'll probably walk you into a pole or something, you know, forget you can't pass through things."
A tear formed in the corner of her eye.
"And you’ll probably wonder why I pick things up for you, or ask you how you want me to arrange your room—because you won't remember that I used to do those things for you when you couldn’t do them for yourself."
The tear trickled down. "You can still move things around for me if you want. I won't mind."
He kissed her little fingers. "I love you, my pretty flower."
"Jake?" Jenna's voice carried out from the room.
Aiyana stiffened. "It's time."
Jake climbed to his feet and went in to his wife's bedside.
"She's coming, Jake." She said with a mixture of concentration and excitement.
The nurse slipped out of the room and returned with the doctor. For almost an hour the room was alive with the sound of a new life coming into the world. Aiyana and the little boy with the overbite watched from the raised platform in front of the curtain-drawn windows. And the man Jake knew as Joshua stood near them in the corner.
Aiyana's hairy little head popped out first. The doctor reached in and turned her shoulders, then a moment later she was laying on the medical sheet. The nurse wiped her off and suctioned her mouth and nose, and the doctor looked at Jake. "Would you like to cut the umbilical cord?"
"Yes," he said, "of course."
The nurse handed him a pair of scissors, and the doctor moved so he could reach. Jake smiled at Jenna and clipped the cord. Aiyana never made a peep.
He looked over his shoulder for her, wanting to share the moment, but only the little boy stood near the window now. He had to remind himself that she was here with him now, real, in the flesh.
He watched as Joshua leaned in toward the little boy. "Do you know what Aiyana means?" he said in a gentle voice.
"No.” The boy looked up at him with bright eyes.
Jake heard the response.
"Eternal blossom."
Jake caught his breath, remembering the old woman who had come to his door so many months ago with her strange request: "Don't let the flower die, Jake."
Without knowing it, he had fulfilled that request. He had kept the flower alive. But until this moment, he had not realized who the flower was. It was his own daughter, his precious Aiyana.
Jake turned to thank Joshua for reminding him of the flower and revealing its connection to his daughter, but the man was gone. He looked back at the window—and his heart grew heavy. The little boy, who had teeth too big for his lip, was slowly vanishing.
And then he was gone.
It was over.
With the birth of his daughter, the ability he had been given was taken back, and he was once again his old self, only richer now—much, much, richer.
He went to the head of the bed and hugged his wife, and together they stared at their daughter's pudgy cheeks, puckered mouth, and tightly sealed lashes. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life, and she was finally here. A long full life awaited her, and he intended to make it the best one ever.
Jenna's face was a pool of happy tears, but a conflicting set of wrinkles developed on her forehead as she gave him an incredulous look. "You really want to name her after my grandmother?"
He rubbed the baby's hairy soft head with the palm of his hand." Her name is Aiyana. How could we call her anything else?"
Chapter 56
Jake stood in front of his neighbor's door, building up the courage to knock. What would he say to her? What could he possibly say that wouldn't make him sound like a complete loon? In the best case scenario he imagined the fiery redhead slamming the door on him. He didn't want to think about the worst case.
His hand shot out and knocked before the signal could get from his brain to his hand to stop it. There was a shuffle, a pause, and then the door opened a crack. "Can I help you?" she said, defensively.
"Yes," he said.” May I come in?"
"I'm a little busy right now." She started to shut the door.
"Please," he said, "it's about your daughter Abby..."
Her face twisted. "What did you say?"
"I need to talk to you about Abby."
This is it. Here it comes. She's going to slam it right in my face.
"Are you a private investigator or something?"
"I wish it was something that normal."
"Then how do you know my daughter's name?"
He tried to stop the words from coming out. "Because I spoke with her...”
Her face went flat and her hand slid down the door and fell to he
r side. "Are you a psychic?"
"I honestly don't know what I am, but if you'll just give me a couple of minutes, I'll explain."
She examined him a moment longer, then pulled the door back and led him down the short hall into her living room. Her apartment looked a lot like his, only the furnishings were different.
She turned, and he held out his hand. "Sorry, we’ve never properly met,” he said, "I’m Jake Paris.”
She hesitated, then took his hand. "I’m Liz.”
"Nice to meet you, Liz.”
She nodded. "Ah, would you like a drink?"
"I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to take too much of your time."
"Then please, have a seat."
He sat uncomfortably on the edge of the cushion and took a deep breath. "First, I want to apologize for putting my big fat foot in my mouth. I didn't know you had, well, visited the clinic."
She chewed her lip, studying his face. It was clear the topic was still uncomfortable.
"I'm going to be completely honest with you, and if you decide to throw me out on my ear, believe me, I'll understand.” He took another deep breath. "Okay, here goes. Over the last several months, I have been able to see the unborn."
Surprisingly, she gave no reaction.
"When I met your daughter in the elevator she was standing right next to you, and I didn't know only I could see her."
There was still no reaction; she listened intently.
"She introduced herself to me as Abby."
Liz folded her arms uncomfortably.
"Does that name mean something to you?"
"I've been attending," her eyes watered as she searched for the words, "grief classes." She spoke softly and with great apprehension. "In the process we were all told to give our baby a name. By recognizing our baby as a he or a she, and giving it a name, we’re better able to put it to rest. Last week..." Her face trembled. "I put my daughter to rest in a shared funeral service with the other ladies in my class. On the certificate I gave her the name Abigail, but I call her Abby." She put her hand to her mouth. "So when you said her name...”
Jake waited a moment and let her compose herself. "I understand this must be very hard for you. But I’ve come with a message—a message from Abby. Do you want to hear it?”
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