by Pat Simmons
"He's gone. My boy is gone," he mumbled. He would've collapsed if Malcolm hadn't been near.
More chaos erupted. Mrs. Beacon jumped up and released an ear-piercing wail. "Oh, my God. I killed my great-godson." Shaking her head, she staggered for another seat near Lisa. Tapping her cane, she motioned for assistance from a security guard. When he obliged, she slumped into the chair and cried louder and harder than Parke.
Parke's parents almost ran into the glass doors of the emergency room as they waited impatiently for the automatic doors to open. Without asking any questions, they headed straight to their eldest son. Malcolm deserted his post next as his tears went unchecked. Mrs. Jamieson wept openly without shame while her husband paced near Parke, wiping his eyes.
Malcolm's attempt to stop the tears only caused him to break down further. Hallison couldn't hold it together. She left Trey's side to join the circle of the Jamieson family. Malcolm hugged her until she patted his back. Squinting, Lisa immediately stood and took one step as Mrs. Beacon shifted her cane, forcing Lisa to stop or trip. "Oops. Sorry, missy. I get stiff sometimes."
Lisa jutted her chin and switched her hips as she went to Malcolm. Untangling him from Hallison, she comforted him with soft kisses to his bruises.
"Hali, if you can pray right now, God knows I'll listen," Malcolm stated.
Glancing over her shoulder, Hallison nodded for Trey to join her. Without hesitation, Trey was there. Despite his ruckus, Trey hadn't usurped his authority, allowing the hospital security to handle it first, but Hallison knew Trey wouldn't stay passive too much longer.
"It's interesting how your little desperate behind keeps popping up, silly woman." Lisa shot Hallison fiery darts as visitors in the waiting room perked up.
Don't take the devil's bait. Resist the devil and he or she will flee, the Holy Ghost warned Hallison.
"Listen, I'm trying to be the sensible person here."
"None of this is necessary. Death is temporary. It regenerates in another living form. Women miscarry all the time. Get over it and move on," Lisa shouted her frustration.
If Mrs. Beacon had another safety pin, everyone could've heard the pin drop. Uh-oh, Lisa has done it now, Hallison thought. The woman was about to witness the Jamieson wrath, knowing how much they valued family. Hallison turned to Trey and mouthed, "Pray."
Parke sobered and stalked over to Lisa. "Before my wife reached twenty weeks, she miscarried our first baby. Less than one hour ago, our son was delivered stillborn. You don't even know what you're talking about, lady. It would be best if you’d leave."
Lisa lifted her face in superiority. "Parke, let me point out your error. Stillbirths are common. As a matter of fact, one in every one hundred and fifteen deliveries ends in stillbirth," she said matter-of-factly.
"I don't need you to recite figures to me." Parke thumped his thumb in his chest. "I'm a living statistic. My prayer is that my brother chooses wisely about the woman he brings into this family. Excuse me, I need to get back to my wife," Parke did an about-face. He nodded to Cheney's parents to follow and all three disappeared behind the double doors.
Malcolm faced Lisa, disappointment shining in his eyes. His fists were balled and his teeth gritted. His nostrils flared as he struggled to control his breathing. "Lisa?"
She shrugged. "I'll send Cheney a nice floral arrangement."
"Keep it." Malcolm walked away.
"Ah naw," Mrs. Beacon said, fumbling with her cane to stand. "It's going to be worth me going to jail today over this chile."
"Sit down, lady," a security guard demanded. His order seemed to infuriate Mrs. Beacon.
She squinted. "Is that the way you talk to your mother or grandma?"
"Ah, well, no, ma'am," he stuttered.
"Then don't try it with me, buddy," she said with a game face that hinted she could back up what she said.
The guard regained his self-respect and turned to Lisa. "Madam, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're upsetting family members."
As if they weren't interrupted, Malcolm joined hands with Hallison and reluctantly with Trey as Trey led the prayer. "Lord, in your magnificent name, we profess our faults for the world to see, but the world also wants to witness your glory and power. You already knew about the loss here today, but you know the blessing that will follow. Let it come more abundantly, Lord. We ask in Jesus, believing. Amen."
Malcolm repeated amen along with some visitors in the waiting room.
Afterward, Trey pulled Hallison aside. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry about taking Malcolm's bait earlier. There was no excuse to you or God. Please, don't hold it against me. I know you don't want to leave, but you know I'm working the overnight shift, and I need to get home and get a few hours of sleep. Let me drop you off at home."
"I can't believe the baby's gone," Hallison mumbled as she hugged Trey for comfort. Slowly, they walked away. "I forgot you had to work. I doubt Bank of Missouri will see me tomorrow. I'm taking a vacation day. Plus, I can't see me getting any sleep tonight. I might come back."
"If you do, be careful, baby. Try not to stay out too late, and make sure you have one of these officers walk you to your car." He paused to think of additional instructions. "Wait," he said, turning around. He backtracked to Malcolm and offered an apology. It was accepted when Malcolm shook Trey's hand.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Mrs. Beacon managed to tiptoe across the room and bypassed the new guard on duty who was watching a ballgame. She made it inside the maternity ward unnoticed until her oversized Stacy Adams shoes clumped on the floor, blowing her cover. Peeping through a crack in the door, Cheney and Parke stopped whispering and looked up.
"Cheney, I'm so sorry," she said, sniffing with a bowed head. "I didn't mean to cause you so much stress to lose our baby. I blame myself. I should've waited until after you had the baby before taking an aim—"
"Grandma," they warned before Cheney mustered a tender smile.
Mrs. Beacon smiled back, then blinked. She thought she heard a voice, but dismissed it. The voice came again as God spoke to her mind. She couldn't shut it out.
Only I have the power to judge the deeds of men. Vengeance is Mine, I will repay every man according to their works, he chastened.
Disconcerted, Mrs. Beacon stuttered. Talk about the fear of God. "I love you, Cheney; I really do. Sometimes, it's more fun acting like a fool.''
Cheney stretched out her arms. Mrs. Beacon clunked to Cheney's bedside, hugged her, and left.
In the parking lot, Malcolm walked off his anger, pain, and confusion until he had circled the perimeter of the hospital. "It's not about you, Jamieson," he chided himself. Taking a deep breath, he strolled back inside, a marked contrast to him storming out.
Once he was told Cheney had been moved to a private room, Malcolm detoured to the gift shop. It was closed. He had nothing to offer them: no flowers, no words of encouragement, no moral support. That little baby meant so much to his family. Finally getting on the elevator, he punched the button for the designated floor.
"You two all right?" Malcolm asked, cautiously entering the room where he found Cheney and Parke holding hands.
"Hey." Cheney attempted to smile. "We're waiting for the nurse to bring us Parke VII to hold our little angel and say goodbye."
They had consented to an autopsy in hopes that the doctors might find the cause of Baby Parke's death. The doctor cautioned they might never know. As Cheney continued to talk about their baby, Parke motioned for Malcolm to take a seat. Her face brightened until she began another crying spree, which caused Parke to fret. Malcolm couldn't contain his emotions as he broke down worse than he had earlier.
Parke hadn't seen Malcolm cry this much since he shattered his mother's expensive vase after playing football in the house. Parke was at his side consoling him. "Mal, we've got to believe God. He'll give us another son."
Malcolm slicked down wavy hair as he rubbed his head. "Yeah, but will I get another chance at Hali? She's engaged."
&nbs
p; "What?" Parke frowned. "Is that what you're bawling about?"
Malcolm nodded. "Yeah. I've got to let her go, man. I've got to." Granted, he was near hysteria when he called Lisa while en route to the hospital. Minutes later, he was pulled over for speeding and given a ticket. As Malcolm rambled, Cheney began to doze. Parke elbowed Malcolm to complain in hushed tones.
Parke listened without interruption until Malcolm was composed, then Parke left the room to inquire about staying overnight. When he returned, Malcolm was watching Cheney sleep.
Malcolm seemed to sense Parke's presence. He released a mock chuckle. "Lisa shocked me tonight. Shoot, I shocked myself. Lisa made a heartless comment. Then me—a CPA—popped an armed state trooper, and I started it. I must not love my life, but that did feel good." He sighed. "Can it get any worse?"
"Trey's a good guy. I'll ask him not to press charges, but Malcolm, it can get worse. God is calling you, and it's about time you picked up the phone."
"He'd better be a good guy to have Hali, but he still ain't good enough, and I can't believe you're talking about God's love. He just let your baby die, man."
"I don't know God's reason for my firstborn son being a stillborn, but now is not the time to stop praying. I need to be there for my wife. God, I love her. My job is to comfort her and let her know that she's not guilty of causing the baby's death."
Malcolm agreed and stood. He stretched his muscles before stepping to the bed. Malcolm leaned down and kissed Cheney's head, causing her to stir. "I guess I don't see God in this at all. Even with Hali, none of this is making a believer out of me."
"Yet," Parke added.
Malcolm shook his head and strolled to the door. He stopped and turned around. "Hey, I'm not heading home yet. I'll just hang out here for a while. I wouldn't get much sleep anyway. Hit me on my cell if you need me."
Minutes later, Cheney woke in pain. Parke pressed the call button. Two nurses came in together. One carried a syringe; the other cradled their baby wrapped in a blanket. Cheney shook her head. "I'll hold off on the pain medicine."
After placing the bundle in Cheney's arms, the nurses left. Struggling, Cheney carefully scooted over, giving Parke room to join her in the bed. "He's beautiful," she whispered in awe.
"PJ 7 is so little." Parke fingered the toy-size fingers. "We're holding our love," he choked.
They caressed his head, stomach, and feet before repeating the ritual.
"He would've looked like you." Cheney sighed.
"Yep. He would've been handsome, too." Parke grinned and released a chuckle.
"Funny." She playfully shoved him just before a sharp pain hit. Cheney gritted her teeth. Clutching their baby to her chest, she began to weep. "Parke, I tried. I tried to give you a son. I know it's because of the abortion years ago. God may have forgiven me, but He hasn't restored my body. I'll always be guilty of murdering my baby."
Wrapping his wife in an embrace, Parke held his family. "Baby, it's okay. Don't let the devil taunt you. You're no longer guilty." Teary eyed, he looked up and silently questioned, God, why did You do this?
* * *
How can Parke suffer a devastating loss and still trust God? Malcolm asked himself again. Stuffing his hands in his pants pockets, he fingered his copy of the speeding ticket. Yes, it had gotten worse. Turning the corner, he found an empty family waiting room on the maternity floor. He scooted two chairs together and stretched out. For the first time in hours, his chin began to throb. He moved his makeshift bed and went to the nurse's station.
"Uh-oh," two nurses said when Malcolm stood at the counter. One backed away. "Listen, we've heard about you. Don't think you're going to come up to my floor and bother our patients. Security is one phone call away."
Holding out his hands, he shook his head. "Look, I'm sorry about spearheading the commotion down in the emergency room."
"I'm not going to put up with it."
"Yes, ma'am. If you've got an extra ice pack, I'd appreciate it."
Keeping an eye on Malcolm, she went into a utility closet for an insulated paper water bottle. Getting ice from a freezer, she dumped it inside the bag. The nurse returned to the counter and placed it in Malcolm's hand. "Here you go, and we're sorry about your loss."
He nodded, then winced when he accidently slapped the ice pack on his chin, then retraced his steps to the waiting room. "When did my life get this messed up?" Malcolm mumbled. He went back to his corner of two chairs. Laying his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
"Malcolm," Hallison's sweet voice called sometime later.
"Yeah, baby," he answered. His dreams seemed to be the only time he could talk to Hallison.
"How's Cheney?" Hallison's voice was more forceful as a finger jabbed his shoulder.
He struggled to open one eye. The ice had frozen the wrong side of his face. Once he managed to focus, he recognized the beautiful brown eyes. "Hali, what are you doing back here? And where's your guard dog—I mean, Trey?" he slurred, fighting exhaustion.
"Malcolm Jamieson, wake up and tell me how they're doing."
"Cheney's asleep and Parke's in there with her."
She sat next to him. "Malcolm, be the strong Black man I know you are. I'm here for the same reason you are. I love Cheney and Parke. I just can't believe it..."
Fully alert and hypnotized by the sound of Hallison's voice, Malcolm shifted and reached for her hand, then linked his fingers through hers. "Hali, I'm sorry... I was crazy back there."
"Yes, you were."
He scrutinized her other hand with the engagement ring. "I still think you should take that thing off."
"Of course you would." She scooted down in her chair and rested her head against the wall. Malcolm wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulders. Hallison didn't protest as she drifted to sleep snugly against his chest. He wasn't dreaming.
Chapter Thirty
When Trey's shift ended at six the next morning, he stopped to get flowers for Cheney before heading home. He heard good things about Gertie's Garden. He had ordered from them over the phone, but today he wanted to look at their selections. Once inside the showroom, it took him fifteen minutes before deciding on a large basket with a mixture of plants and flowers.
Taking his selection to the counter, the previous day's nightmare awaited him. "Lisa?" He frowned. "Well, good morning." Lord, what am I about to face today? "You work here?"
"I own it," she stated, ignoring the proper business pleasantries. "What can I do for you, Officer Washington? Here to buy your fiancée flowers? You know, you really need to keep your lady in check."
"Excuse me?"
"Your woman is out of control. Any other man wouldn't have allowed his girlfriend—oh that's right—fiancée—to do all she did at the hospital. Malcolm's girlfriend," she paused, pointing to herself, "meaning me... is not that gullible." She gave Trey a warm and inviting smile. "This is a fair warning. If you can't control Hallison, then I will."
Trey was praying and counting the minutes before he would lose his temper. He didn't ignore threats—subtly or openly. Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God because many false prophets are gone out into the world, he recalled 1 John 4:1.
"Lady, I'm engaged, so Hali isn't a threat to you, but here is a threat. Don't you ever lay your hands on her again. There're two laws you should be concerned with—the spiritual and natural."
Lisa arched a brow and twitched her nose. "Really? Your gun doesn't scare me. The gods I serve have great power to destroy you and your little girlfriend."
"Don't try me, Lisa. I can back up my words, and I don't need this gun to prove it." He laid his item on the glass counter and swaggered toward the door with his shoulders lifted and hand close to his holster in case he needed to play cowboy. If he had to buy flowers from a peddler on the street, he would. Gertie's Garden wouldn't make another dime from him.
Trey arrived at Missouri Baptist Hospital with flowers he’d purchased from
Stems Florist Shop. The owner, Jenny, had greeted him and helped in record time. At the receptionist's desk, he inquired about Cheney's room, then he rode the elevator to the third floor as instructed. Double-checking the room number, he knocked softly on Cheney's door. It was too early to visit, but he wouldn't have time to get back to check on her later. He opened the door. Cheney was resting, and Parke was sprawled in a reclining chair beside her. His hand was still latched onto hers as he snored.
Quietly placing the flowers on a nearby table, Trey left. Taking a wrong turn, he bypassed the family visitors' room and froze. He wasn't surprised to see Malcolm camped out in a corner asleep. However, he was shocked to see his fiancée snuggled in Malcolm's arms, asleep. Lisa was wrong: Hallison wasn't a threat to her. It was Malcolm who Trey had to worry about.
His nostrils flared like a bull. If he thought he could get away with snatching Malcolm up by his T-shirt and imprinting his fist print on the other side of Malcolm's head, he would. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option. It wasn't the image he wanted to portray to God, his sergeant, and again to Hallison. The list was endless.
Trey calmed his breathing, but he couldn't stop staring. He was trying to send the telepathy thing where Hallison could feel his presence, wake, and run into his arms, then he would whip out his gun and fire shots at the villain. Too bad he couldn't play out the scene that had been on a recent CSI episode.
At that moment, Trey wouldn't give the devil the satisfaction of another fight. The previous day, Trey took Malcolm's bait; he wouldn't take Lisa's today. Once he got some rest, he would talk to Hallison about her compromising position. Retracing his steps, he left the hospital, fighting every thought the devil was trying to put in his head.
The first order of business for Trey when he got home was to pray. He trusted Hallison. Malcolm was a suspect in a man-acting-like-a-fool-in-love case.