Restoring Hope

by Smith, C. P.

  Nic barely heard Rose’s words; he was too busy staring at the shining blonde hair of his ‘tite ange. As the light grew brighter, Chelsea came into better focus, and with one last labored breath, Nic heard Hope scream his name as his world went dark for an instant, and then warmth and light he’d never known in his life filled him. When his eyes opened again, he stood in the embrace of his daughter; her sweet smell hit his nose, and he remembered it like it was yesterday.

  Strawberries and cream her favorite shampoo.

  He folded his arms around her, holding her tight as she buried her head in his chest. After more than a year, he finally had his baby in his arms.

  “Papa, I missed you so much.”

  “My sweet angel, papa missed you more than you know. I’ve got you now, and I won’t let go.”

  “It’s too soon, Papa, you have to go back.”

  “It’s where I’m supposed to be, angel.”

  “Nicky still needs you,” she whispered and he paused briefly thinking about his son. If he could feel any pain it would have killed him to think about Nicky being alone, then he looked at Chelsea’s sweet face and knew he couldn’t leave her.

  “Baby, papa’s not leaving you again,” he responded, his need to be with her greater than his need to fight to go home and he wondered why. He loved his son, would do anything for him, but the warmth and happiness he felt standing in the light with Chelsea seemed to override all his instincts.

  “Hope needs you too, now more than ever,” Chelsea told him, her bright eyes seeming wiser than he remembered. Nic closed his eyes when he thought of Hope. She'd be devastated, lost, he knew that with his entire being, but Chelsea was his daughter, and she needed him more.

  “She’ll have Rose,” he replied but his voice broke and he felt tightness in his chest that wasn’t there before. When he first arrived, he’d felt warmth, and now he was beginning to feel cold again.

  He saw movement behind Chelsea and looked up to see his grand-mere and grand-pere standing there smiling at him. Laughing in surprise at seeing them both, he moved around Chelsea and wrapped them in a hug. It had been more than fifteen years since he’d seen his grandparents.

  His grand-pere, tall and wide like all Beuve men, but with hazel eyes, slapped him on the back and then smacked him on the head as he’d done when Nic was a child and disobeyed.

  “Dis,’ not you time,” he told Nic and instead of feeling happy to see them both, he felt sick to his stomach suddenly and an electric shock jolted his chest. His back arched in pain, and he was unable to breathe, so he grabbed his grand-pere’s shoulder for support.

  “Chelsea needs me,” Nic ground out, as the pain subsided.

  “Don’t be a fool, she’s got us,” his grand-mere, still as feisty as he remembered and as beautiful as a spring day, shouted at him. She was tiny like Hope Nic realized, and her blonde hair had been as light as Hope's in her youth. She placed both her hands on his face and pulled him down for a kiss on the cheek. She whispered, “Time to go back,” as he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Chelsea, concern on her face.

  “Papa, you have to go before it’s too late.”

  Nic shook his head, determined he wouldn’t let his daughter down again, but an electric shock hit him in the chest again, and he fell to his knees as he heard a distant voice begging him.

  “I love you, please don’t leave me.”

  Hope stood staring as they worked on Nic, frozen in place, watching as they pumped his chest up and down. They’d put a breathing tube down his throat, and an Ambu bag was breathing life into his body as they tried to bring him back. With each jolt of electric shock they gave his heart, Hope jumped, and an anguished cry spilled from her lips. Big Daddy held her from behind, holding her up so she wouldn’t collapse as Rose stood at her side praying to God.

  Turning her eyes from the sight of Nic’s strong body lying there lifeless, she saw Kat sitting in a chair surrounded by the police as they asked her questions. She had tears running down her face as she watched the paramedic’s work on Nic. The sight of her tears, when she was at fault, struck a nerve with Hope and before she knew what she was doing, she tore her body from Big Daddy’s embrace and launched herself at Kat.

  “You did this, you killed him,” she screamed as she swung her hand wide and slapped Kat across the face, bloodying her lip with her nails. Kat had been stoic until that slap, but when her head came back up she leveled a look at Hope that told her if she weren’t in police custody, she would have killed Hope.

  “It should be you laying on that floor,” Kat calmly replied and then spat blood out of her mouth and onto Hope’s shoe. A police officer stuck his arm between them and told Hope to move back. Big Daddy grabbed Hope around the shoulders and pulled her into his arms. She could see the paramedic’s pick up the paddles to the defibrillator and he shocked Nic for the third time. Hope ripped herself from Big Daddy’s arms, kneeled at Nic’s feet, and then told him what was in her heart.

  “You pulled me from the darkness, pieced me back together, and you loved me like I’ve never been loved in my life. You have to fight do you hear me? I need you Nic, we need you, you can’t leave us,” Hope begged her words choppy with emotion. “Please, Nic, please, I love you,” she sobbed as one of the paramedics said, “We need to move.” Big Daddy tried to pull her back, and she pulled away from him shaking her head.

  “No,” Hope cried out “I’m not leaving him; he has to know I love him, that I need him to fight.” Big Daddy let her go, and she stood at his feet as they picked up the stabilizing board they’d placed Nic on. One tech stopped chest compressions to move him, and the other kept pumping the Ambu bag. Nic’s hand fell from the gurney and Hope dashed to his side grabbing his warm hand and held on as they rolled him quickly to the ambulance. Right before they loaded him, she leaned in and whispered in his ear.

  The third time the electric shock hit Nic Chelsea started fading. He struggled to stand and reached out to her, tried to keep the connection. She helped him to his feet and wrapped her arms around his waist hugging him one last time.

  “It’s time to go Papa,” she whispered to him, and he tried to fight the pull he felt hearing Hope crying out to him.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered back, “I failed you before.”

  “You never failed me, Papa. I failed me.”

  Holding her close he put his mouth to her ear and whispered “Tu me manques, so much it hurts,” as he felt his grip on her weaken.

  “Je t’aime, Papa,” she answered back, and he tried to hold on to her but Hope’s whispered voice called to him, and he let go and turned from Chelsea when he heard, “Mon coeur je t’ aime je t’ aime. You’re going to be a father again, please don’t leave me all alone.”

  Epilogue

  White irises were everywhere, their scent overwhelming the room. Hope had wanted those flowers on this day; they’d reminded her of Nic, of their love. Their delicate petals, a symbol of hope, of love, of New Orleans seemed appropriate. Their sturdy stalk was Nic holding Hope up, carrying her when she’d been vulnerable, afraid—lost. The dainty petals were fragile, yet strong like Hope, and even though she’d been through hell, her very essence was one of innocence, purity, angelic like those white petals.

  Rose inspected the room one more time to make sure it was ready for the reception that followed. She wanted everything to be perfect, didn’t want Hope to worry about a thing ‘cause she had enough to worry about, and a baby growing in her belly to take care of. She turned to see Roscoe waiting for her, his dark suit making the man she’d loved all these years look even more handsome to her.

  “It’s time, Rosie.”

  “Don’t know how I’m gonna get tru’ dis’ day,” Rosie sighed. Roscoe shook his head as he made his way to his wife and then he wrapped the love of his life in his arms and put his mouth to her ear saying “Only you would turn a weddin’ into a day of mourning.”

  “I’m not mourning you fool, I don’t
know how I’m gonna get tru’ dis’ day wit‘out crying my fool head off. Beautiful love stories always make me bawl like a crazy woman, you know dat.”

  “Rosie you cry at commercials.”

  “Dat’ one wit’ da’ animals and da’ sad song would make a serial killer cry I ‘guarontee.” She felt Roscoe’s chest rumble with laughter as he agreed, “All right, Rosie, I admit that one gives me a knot in my throat.”

  “Give you more dan’ a knot you old fool and you know it,” Rose told him and then pulled from his arms. “Let’s get dis’ show on da’ road . . . We got a weddin’ to attend.

  Standing in profile, Hope gazed at her baby bump as it pushed through the fabric of her wedding gown. She was six months along and baby Beuve was restless. They didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl and wanted to keep it that way. Though, Hope felt sure it was a girl. Running her hand up and down her belly she whispered, “Your papa wouldn’t let you come into this world without his name; we’re getting married today, ‘tite ange.” She saw movement in her peripheral as Abby walked in carrying her bouquet, and she turned to her friend smiling.

  “Nic is pacing like a caged tiger,” Abby laughed as she approached Hope.

  Rolling her eyes, Hope laughed with her friend. Since the kidnapping and finding out Hope was pregnant with his child, and let’s not forget that he’d been shot and almost died, Nic was obsessively protective. He didn’t like her out of his sight for very long, so Hope had to learn to adjust to his new over-the-top protectiveness. He’d cut back on his hours at the office to fully recover from his injuries and to be there for Nicky and Hope, not to mention dealing with the aftermath of Kat’s actions. Every time Hope thought about that day, and how close they all came to losing Nic, she felt her heart race and tried to block the thoughts from her mind. She’d never been that scared, not even when she’d fought for her own life.

  After the paramedic’s had left with Nic, Big Daddy had driven Hope and Rose to the hospital. By the time they arrived, they’d already rushed Nic into surgery and all they could do was wait and pray. Hope thanked God every day for Rose and Big Daddy’s strength. Had she been there alone she would have given into her feelings of despair, but they’d both kept repeating, “Da’ man is a fighter he is, don’t you worry T-Hope he’ll be just fine.” After two hours in surgery a nurse came out and gave them an update, he was still in the operating room and holding his own, his blood pressure was good and the nurse had commented he was a fighter, that his will to live was strong. The bullet had missed his heart, nicked a lung and lodged in his back, and Hope had become ill hearing his injuries. Nic Sr. and Tilly arrived with Nicky not long after the update, all with pale faces. Nicky was a mess knowing his mother had shot his father, though it was an accident, and it had the boy clinging to his grandmother like a small child. Hope knew he would have a long road ahead of him dealing with her actions, and decided right then, no matter what happened with Nic, she would do what she could to help his mother.

  Kat, in all her selfishness, had revealed a lot that day. She hadn’t dealt with the loss of her marriage and most importantly, she hadn’t dealt with the loss of her daughter. Grief can be a powerful thing gone unchecked, and Kat had gone on with her life not dealing with all she had lost. She’d needed a scapegoat for her own actions and Hope had been an easy target for her anger. Unfortunately for all involved, when she’d followed Hope to the doctor, seen the sample of prenatal vitamins Hope had put in her purse as they argued, she’d snapped. Hope knew what she needed was counseling, not incarceration, and if she could make that happen she would, for Nicky and for Nic.

  When the nurse returned three hours later to tell them the doctor was finished and the surgery went well, they’d all cried out and then hugged each other. Big Daddy, Rose, Nicky and Tilly, even Nic Sr., had clung to each other in relief and thanked God in silent prayer for their miracle. When Nic was moved to ICU, they’d allowed visitors for fifteen minutes and Hope had insisted Tilly and Nic Sr. take Nicky in first so he could see for himself that his father was okay. But, they’d insisted she come with them, she was family in their eyes and wouldn’t be left out of their family visit.

  Nic, who was normally so full of life and attitude, seemed fragile to Hope when they’d walked in. He was on life-support, tubes and IV’s attached to every limb it seemed, but he was alive and that’s all the mattered to Hope. Tilly had rushed to his side and carefully put her mouth to his forehead as tears streamed down her face. Nicky, almost afraid to touch his father, had stood at the foot of the bed and grabbed his father’s foot just to touch some part of him, as Nic Sr. had cleared his throat at the sight of his only child clinging to life.

  “He needs to hear your voice,” Tilly told the room and then whispered something into his ear. She then reached out her hand to Nicky and he went to her, leaned in, and spoke to his father. As he did, the heartbeat monitor registered a slight increase in Nic’s pulse and Tilly smiled. Nic’s father then moved to him, laid his hand on his son's shoulder and with a booming voice instructed his son to “Fight for your family, don’t you leave us.” Tilly had sobbed at his order and then turned to Hope, put out her hand and Hope moved to her.

  “Give him a reason to fight, sugar.” Tilly whispered

  Hope looked at Nic, his battered and bruised body lying there, not moving, and leaned in kissed his lips and then whispered in his ear, “If it’s a girl I want to name her Olivia Rose; if it’s a boy, Thomas after my father if that’s all right with you.” At her words, the heart monitor again registered a slight increase in his heart rate and Hope smiled. She figured that was his way of saying that was just fine with him.

  After two days of touch and go, Nic finally opened his eyes, and it took him all of a minute once he did to insist that damn breathing tube be removed from his throat. Three days after that, he insisted he be released, but it took him two days more to convince the doctors all he needed was rest at home with his son and Hope to recover fully. He was right. Once home, with Hope and Nicky close, he’d relaxed and let his body heal. Not that he’d had to lift a finger. Between Hope, Rose and Tilly, the man had wanted for nothing—except peace and quiet.

  Once Tilly was sure her son would be okay, she’d taken Nicky back to Baton Rouge with her so Nic and Hope could have some alone time together. It was then that he’d told her about Chelsea. He wasn’t sure if it had been a dream or if he’d really been with his daughter, but one thing he knew with certainty, Hope had pulled him back from wherever he’d been when she’d told him about the baby.

  The next few months had been an exercise in self-control for Hope. Nic, being a man, had insisted he was fine after a week home and then began the “I don’t want you out of my sight and stop lifting heavy objects or I’ll put you over my knee,” routine. Hope had rolled her eyes when he got like this, but understanding that Nic had lived five hours not knowing where she was, and then dealing with the legalities of what his ex-wife had done, she didn’t fight him.

  Kat had been charged with kidnapping and attempted murder and Nicky was devastated. Nic and Hope had spoken with the DA, explained all that had happened in their lives the past three years, and got him to reduce the charges. Nic had hired Kat the best attorney money could buy, for Nicky’s sake, and she’d been smart enough to plead guilty to a lesser sentence. Kat was then remanded to a facility for treatment and once she completed her sentence, she'll move back to Georgia where her parents can support her in her outpatient therapy, as well. The court had no problem awarding Nic full custody of Nicky, but Nic did allow supervised visits with Kat in Georgia. And by supervised he meant the whole family would travel together. On those visits, he wanted Nicky’s head on a pillow he controlled at night, while he kept a close eye on his son during the day.

  Two months after John Cummings was arrested trying to cross the border into Mexico, the Cartel he’d smuggled drugs for took a hit out on him. As he lay on his bunk in lockup, an unknown assailant stuck a shank into his heart, ending his m
iserable life. As far as the Cummings family was concerned, Hope was gone and could stay gone. No one was looking for her now.

  Once Nic had all his and Hope’s ducks in a row, his son under his roof permanently, he’d come home one day and loaded Hope into her Jeep and drove her out to his favorite bayou. He’d had a houseboat waiting for them when they arrived; stocked with everything they’d need for a night under the stars.

  When the moon was full and Hope was naked, Nic reached into a bag, pulled out a ring with a huge diamond haloed with smaller ones, and slipped it onto her finger kissing it.

  “Are you asking me to marry you?” Hope whispered looking at the ring.

  “My baby isn’t coming into this world without my name, so don’t fight me on this,” Nic warned.

  “Are you marrying me because of the baby?”

  “For fuck sake, sugar, I’m marrying you because I can’t live without you,” Nic rumbled as he rolled Hope to her back, careful not to lie on her stomach.

  “Better,” Hope smiled and then wrapped her arms around Nic’s neck, “But your approach needs work, how about you show me your execution.” Nic growled low, and then buried his head in her neck and whispered in her ear “Ma douce amour, you said I pulled you from the darkness, pieced you back together, but the truth is I was falling apart until you walked into my life. I’d lost part of my reason for living, and the only thing holding me together was Nicky. You gave me meaning again, restored my life to one I wanted to live. You, Hope, restored my hope, that this life still held something beautiful for me. Marry me my heart, my soul, my reason for living.”

  Breathing hard and a little shocked he had it in him, Hope whispered, “That was an eleven out of ten.”

  “Are you gonna answer me or leaving me hanging?”

  “Oui, mon douce amour.” Nic’s face warmed when she said yes in his native tongue and then moved to his back taking her with him.

  “You’ve got two months to make it happen, angel.”