Sean grunted.
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”
Rolling his eyes, Sean leaned his head against the window, feeling the judder of the vehicle knock his teeth together, providing an ache other than the one in his damaged heart.
“Are you even listening to me?” Jerome asked.
“Something about comfort.”
“I’m telling you to get off your butt and stop being so selfish.”
Sean glanced over to where Jerome had his hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel. “What gives you the right to talk about me being selfish. My whole world keeps crumbling under my feet over and over again. You expect me to smile and get on with it?”
“Yes. I do. God put you two together and you have no right to keep trying to tear it apart. What’s going to happen? Every time there’s some trouble, you’re going to run away from it like a sissy? Be the man God meant for you to be. Be there for Abigail.”
“I’m not running away. I’m right here. Besides, the justice system is dragging their feet on this case. There’s no way I could leave.”
“You leave every time you suck liquor out of that flask.”
Sean once again leaned into the window. “So, what’d she do now? Sigh or something?”
“She asked for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sean asked, his nerves immediately on edge.
“She’s talking. She’s communicating. She’s asking for you.”
“I need to see her.”
“You need a shower, a decent meal, and three strong cups of coffee.”
“Is she really talking?”
“By the grace of God.”
After a quick prayer, Sean flipped the visor down. Red streams ran through his crazed eyes, and his long hair was curling past his ears towards the unruly beard that covered his face. “I’ll do the shower and coffee,” he said. “Can we pick up a razor on the way?”
“Now you’re talking like a man.” Jerome said with a smile.
Sean tried not to get his hopes up, but they were shooting through his veins like a drug.
His Jamie was once again alive.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN
ABBY didn’t know how it had happened, or why. She didn’t even have a clue what day it was. All she knew was that, just like a teardrop over Caleb’s cheek, something had triggered her thought processes. She’d once again come alive.
Her dad had been sitting quietly in a recliner, his eyes drooping into the beginnings of slumber. Abby had watched his lips as they’d pressed together in thought, his chest moving up and down to the rhythm of his breathing, his hand slowly reaching up and scratching at his chin. She was so glad that he was alive. So glad that he and Mom hadn’t been killed in the explosion.
She’d felt the words leave her mouth even before she’d realized she’d formed them in thought. “I love you, Dad.”
It had taken him more than a few seconds to react. At first, he’d only stared at her, but then he’d twisted his wheelchair towards her bed and lifted himself shakily out of it, eventually dropping himself onto the bed where Abby pulled him into her arms. Whatever Diego Bianchi had said, whether it was true or not, this wonderful man was still her dad, he always would be.
Mom had come in minutes later, holding a lunch tray which ended up on the floor in disarray once she saw that her daughter’s eyes were clear of their eternal stare. She’d helped Dad back to his wheelchair and cuddled Abby into her arms. “Oh, my baby. You’re okay. You’re okay. The prayers worked.”
She’d watched her dad nod his head and lift his eyes to the ceiling with a smile. It was clear that Dad had found a connection with God as well.
Following hours of questions, phone calls, and a visit from the doctor, Abby found the guts to ask again. She was wary of the answer, knowing how Sean had reacted in the past. “Where is…”
“Oh, Sean’s already here,” Mom interrupted. “Jerome is making him drink coffee and take a shower before he comes up.”
Joy filled Abby’s heart. Sean was here. He wasn’t off in Syria getting shot, he wasn’t playing ghost while leaving an unsipped glass of scotch on a table in Dad’s office, and he wasn’t kidnapped by the crazy son of a mafia boss. Abby threw the blankets from her legs and slid off the bed. Mom spun around with a warning glance. “I don’t think so. Your legs are still weak, and you need a shower yourself. I think you can wait another hour before…”
“No, I don’t think she can,” a low rumble came from the door of the bedroom.
Abby’s breath caught in her throat and she watched as a freshly shaven, wet-haired man walked in holding two cups of steaming coffee.
“Sean.”
“Hey Jamie.”
Abby watched Mom squeeze Sean’s shoulder, then scurry out of the room, pushing Dad’s wheelchair in front of her. When the door closed behind her, all Abby could feel was Sean’s presence. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
He was wearing a blue t-shirt and jeans. Almost the exact outfit he’d had on the first day she’d seen him in the campus library so many years ago. She remembered how he’d blushed when she’d caught him looking at her, his cheeks turning a ruddy shade of maroon. She looked at the mugs in his hand and thought about their clandestine meeting at Tastey Coffee, when Sean had told her that he could keep her safe. How she’d wondered if that was even possible but had found out so many times that safe was only a word.
Memories of how he’d held her during their first kiss at Swan Lake ran through her head; his smile, his eyes, his touch. The shouts and camera flashes surrounding them as Sean became her world.
She remembered the night at the hotel, when he’d fallen asleep with his shoes on. She had leaned in to give him a kiss, and he’d pulled her close, wrapping her in his very own cocoon, a place that, for the first time, she had truly felt protected.
She thought about how he’d played catch with little Nathan at the orphanage, patiently tossing the ball back and forth, showing Nathan that you didn’t have to be perfect to be loved and cared for, and then how Sean had saved Nathan by placing his own life at risk.
She recalled their moments in the small house looking over the Kenyan fields, how his touch had soothed her aching heart, how they’d both found each other’s new worlds within the tragedies of the African countryside.
She remembered how he had kneeled down in the cold early morning dew of a highway shoulder and asked her to be his wife.
She thought about the evening Sean had thrown her over his shoulder to bring her to his apartment where they’d held each other until morning greeted them.
She remembered how Sean had comforted her as she’d cried into his arms after seeing the tattoo that had been emblazoned on her skin.
And she thought about how he’d called to her in the room with the dirty couch and the bloody floor. How he’d fought off both Mendoza and Diego to get to her. How he’d saved her.
Her legs were weak with all the new emotion pounding through her body, sending her to the floor in a limp puddle.
Instead of dragging her up as she’d expected, Sean simply set the coffee cups gently on the bedside stand, sank to the floor, and sat next to her. Just like how Sandra, and then Frank, had joined her on the floor of the kitchen after she’d awoken the first time. How they’d been patient with her, let her cry, and offered her chicken and rice. Sean had the same love for her. Not a lustful, possessive love, but a love that was unconditional, unending. The type of love that God had intended.
She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to speak every word in the world to him but couldn’t figure out how to form them on her lips.
Perhaps she should start simple.
“So… what’s been going on?” she asked.
Sean’s fingers traced a pattern in the soft
fibers of the throw rug. “Your mom won the Academy Award for best actress. The movie got best picture, best director, and a few other things.”
Abby wiped tears from her cheeks and smiled. “She went to L.A.?”
“No. We watched it from the hospital room.” He reached up to the bedside stand, pulled down a box of tissues, and placed it in Abby’s lap.
“You were with her?” Abby asked as she pressed a bundle of tissues against her face.
“Yeah,” Sean chuckled. “She wouldn’t let go of my damn hand.”
“Do that again,” Abby said.
Sean turned onto his hip and tipped his head, “Give me something to laugh about.”
“Okay.” Abby leaned in and pressed her head against his. “Diego blew up my closet,” she said. “And all my clothes… I think I’m wearing my mother’s underwear.”
She felt Sean’s chest rumble with laughter as he dragged her into his arms. He fell back, pulling her with him, then rolled her over gently, until he was covering her body with his own.
“Why do you smell like a bar,” Abby asked.
“I’m not going to tell you,” he answered.
“Why am I not surprised?”
He leaned down again and placed his lips on her forehead. “I missed you, Jamie. So much.”
“Thank you,” Abby whispered.
Sean lifted his head up. “For missing you?”
“For saving my life.”
She watched his eyes search her own as he caressed the side of her cheek. “You remember?”
Abby nodded her head. “Bits and pieces.”
“Well then, you should know, Jamie Poser. It was you that saved both of us.”
She began to turn her head from him, but he nudged it back with his fingers. “How did you do it?” he asked. “How did you know to call Ricco?”
“Ricco? I didn’t call him.” Then she remembered Diego’s phone. “I was able to get Diego’s cell without him knowing. I just pressed the Return Call button, then shoved it in my dress, hoping someone would hear, that they would come help us.”
“Not only did you call the right person, but you did it at the perfect time.” A look of wonder and surprise was covering Sean’s face. “Ricco and his men were in the process of coordinating a shipment of illegal weapons. When he received the call, they were doing reconnaissance in the port. Once he heard what was going on, he went ballistic, screaming at his men to get you out. They went straight to Diego’s safe house. Got there just in time to put a bullet in Diego’s back. I’d been beaten half to death, so I could only do so much. You would’ve bled out if Ricco hadn’t taken you to the hospital.”
Abby thought again about what Diego had said. About Ricco being her father. She glanced at the wheelchair marks on the rug. No. She knew who her father was, and even if Ricco Bianchi did get her to the hospital, it gave him no right to claim her as kin. Especially since he’d used her own safety as a threat against her family for so many years. “Is he going to prison?”
“Let’s hope. Port security responded to the noise when Ricco was ordering his men to get to Diego’s place. He got away before they could catch him, but not before they’d overheard him ranting about how Diego was just supposed to distract the feds, not kill them. And especially not kill you. It all unraveled from there.”
She felt his hand gently cup the back of her neck. The area was raw, but his palm soothed the ache.
“He stabbed me, didn’t he?”
She felt the caress of Sean’s thumb as it traced over a tender area on her neck that must have been the entry point. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out, but it had clearly been long enough for the wounds to heal to a manageable level.
“Yes. He stabbed you once in the back, and a second time in the neck. The neck injury was the one that almost did you in.” She felt Sean’s body tremble on top of her. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Thanks be to God.” His head dropped to her shoulder and she could feel his tears through the thin fabric of her pajama top. A shudder indicated a sob as he lifted his head once again, and pressed his lips to her cheek, then her chin, then her lips. Their tears joined once again in a confluence of rivers and through the damp tremors they agreed to become new again. Given new worlds, they would discover each other and become stronger, just as they had before - over and over again.
FIFTH WORLD
THE venue was filled to capacity. Outside, crowds of photographers and autograph hunters breathed a sigh of wistfulness as the excited frenzy died down until the completion of the ceremony, when once again their voices would rise up to catch attentions. Limousines lined the streets, now orchestrated into a long line of temporary egress until they would arrive to transport at the end of the evening.
Streaming bright as day, stage lights illuminated the grandiose event, decorated in glittering golds and majestic blues. Anxious ushers settled latecomers into their seats, hoping that nobody would decide to move from their precisely designated positions once the cameras began filming. The audience of nearly 1600 guests had donned their finest designer gowns and formal tuxedos. Whispers permeated the atmosphere as mention of famous attendees traveled through the crowds.
An orchestral number reverberated through the venue as women adjusted skirts and men pulled at collars. After a check of synchronized watches, coordinators motioned for the event’s royalty to walk to their seats, nodding with courteous smiles to those around them.
Once the music ended, whispers silenced as a stately gentleman with white hair and a friendly smile slowly approached the podium emblazoned with the golden symbol of what the event represented.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. For over a century, this institution has prided itself on recognizing technical merit and great achievements. Nominations have been thoroughly reviewed by an esteemed committee, identifying leading candidates.”
Tears formed in Abby’s lashes as she took in her surroundings. Even after having been to dozens of prestigious events, nothing could have come close to the one in which she was currently attending.
Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw that Mom was holding back tears as well. Mom held Dad’s hand as his eyes drooped sleepily in his wheelchair. The trip had taken a toll, as well as the multitude of interviews, meetings, and charity events prior to the ceremony. But once they returned to Florida, and Dad could once again relax in front of the television with Jerome, he would be quite back to normal. Jerome would likely be glad as well, since he had been given the unenviable task of babysitting four-year-old William while they were away.
A flutter in her stomach alerted Abby to their next adventure in child-rearing. She placed her hand on the baby bump, and felt little Geraldine adjust her position, pushing towards both Abby’s ribs and bladder at the same time. After several moments, the baby’s acrobatics eased, providing Abby with the ability to breathe once again.
She then dropped her hand to the bouncing leg of the bored teenager sitting next to her. His dark skin glistened with the heat of his uncomfortable tuxedo, and he glanced at Abby with a quick eye roll to make it clear that he would much rather be back in the United States participating in the robotics competition he was missing. She watched his eyes finally gain interest, and the white of his teeth shift to a smile, as one presenter handed the podium off to another. Having attended the rehearsal yesterday, the wiggly teen knew that it was time.
“This year, the Nobel Committee has unanimously decided to award the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine to a man whose work in neuroprosthetics has advanced the research of targeted motor and sensory reinnervation by leaps and bounds. His untiring endeavors in neuroscience have gone beyond the borders of his home country, as he has cultivated multiple relationships throughout the Americas, Europe, Asia, and Africa to bring the gift of prosthetics to areas desperately lacking these services. Not only within the research of his company, but with the assistance of his wife and family as well, he has dis
played a willingness to overcome adversity, demonstrate boundless compassion, and show unending patience in the eye of a storm as they travel to the far reaches of the world, caring for those that have not been cared for, showing love for the unloved, and giving hope to the hopeless. It is an honor and a privilege to award the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine to Dr. Sean Court.
Abby watched Nathan fold and unfold the paper program in front of him with two hands, the microprocessors and silicone of the right hand - created by Sean’s company, and the muscle and skin of his left - created by God. She knew the two worlds were intertwined, that of their own, imperfect world, and that of God’s unexplainable grace and glory.
Nathan would understand the importance of his father’s Nobel Prize in the future, but for now, it was just another boring event. He had been invited to attend the ceremony and banquet by the Nobel Committee as evidence that his father’s works were truly able to stretch over international borders. With tears in her eyes, Abby patted his cheek, communicating the pride she felt for both the man on the stage receiving the Nobel diploma and medal from the King of Sweden, and the young man next to her who had overcome so much.
But in true Nathan fashion, he tipped his head and groaned during the applause. “Mom. You’re so embarrassing.”
Abby didn’t mind when Nathan went with his grandparents back to the hotel immediately after the ceremony. It had taken great effort on Mom’s part to keep Dad from snoring during the presentation, and Abby knew for a fact that he wasn’t going to make it through the dinner and dance afterwards.
Surely, Nathan would slip into jeans and a t-shirt as soon as they returned to the suite, then settle himself in front of his computer while Mom pushed room service at him until he’d gained another ten pounds.
“Hey, beautiful.” Abby felt the familiar pressure of lips on the back of her neck.
“Hey yourself, handsome.”
Sean’s hair had become rumpled during the past several hours, most likely from unknowingly running his fingers through it. She smoothed it down, noting the additional grays that shone in the venue lights. “Dad and Mom took Nathan back to the suite for the night.”
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