Authors: Denise Kahn
CHAPTER 48
Jean’s unborn baby brought a great deal of joy to her and to Zeferino, although it must be said that the joy they felt was already present with the love they had for each other. They had moved in together, ostensibly so that Jean could assist Zeferino while he was confined to bed. She did act as his nurse but what she did could hardly be called a job. When Zeferino’s leg healed, he declared that he would now take on Jean’s old job and become her nurse. Jean was in remission but because of her previous condition, the baby brought a possible new risk to her health. Zeferino took Jean to the doctor for regular check ups. He wanted to be the child’s father and he wanted to be Jean’s husband. Jean happily agreed to Zeferino being the father, but she would not marry him, not until Simon was caught. He was still at large and dangerous. The media seemed to have forgotten about him but the police had not. A plainclothes policeman was still assigned to Jean, around the clock.
Zeferino stopped trying to change Jean’s mind about marrying him. He accepted but did not entirely understand her almost fanatical fear of Simon Grady. She truly believed that anyone connected to her was in danger. She could not live with this fear forever, he told himself. Once the baby was born, he thought, her fears would subside and life would get back to normal and they could be with friends and family. But for now, he accepted their situation. They lived as if in a cocoon. All that was important was their love for each other and their baby.
The closer Jean got to her due date, the more crazy cravings she had. These could be entertaining, at least to Zeferino. She’d had cravings for peppermint ice cream and hot dogs, followed by an insatiable longing for crushed ice and olives, the green ones with tiny bits of pimento in the middle. Then she suddenly wanted cheese with jalapeños. Zeferino went to the store to get some. What is it that causes pregnant women to get these urges? He wondered and laughed to himself. He recognized the guard parked in front of the house. Zeferino waved. The guard nodded.
Jean turned on the television to hear the local news. In the entertainment segment, a reporter interviewed Davina Walters. You could tell the reporter was captivated by her. He was obviously a fan. He sounded a little silly, like a kid at his first Christmas, or like a teenager getting the chance of a lifetime to be with the woman of his dreams. Davina looked, as always, beautiful and very much in charge. She talked about her upcoming tour.
A noise, as if something heavy had been dropped, made Jean turn the TV down. She looked out the front window. All seemed normal. The police guard’s car was parked on the street. She looked out the kitchen window and she recognized the guard. He was lying on the back deck. His eyes were shut.
Jean’s heart raced as she went to the phone. The crippling effects of panic had already begun to take. She tried to remember what buttons on the telephone to push. What were those numbers? She pushed numbers, seven numbers.
“Hello?” Davina said.
♫
EPILOGUE
Before she even entered the house, Davina could hear Jean screaming. She looked in the window. Simon Grady was trying to get at Jean, who was very pregnant. He was turning over pieces of furniture as she ran and he tried to corner her. When he caught up to her, he hit her in the face with his open hand. Then he punched her in the stomach and Jean fell to the floor, doubled over. He pulled out the gun that was tucked in the back of his jeans.
Davina was petrified, almost to the point of being paralyzed. She willed her limbs to move. She opened the front door. She held a cocked gun, a .45, in both hands.
“Put it down!” she screamed. “Put the gun down!”
“Well, if it isn’t bitch number two,” Grady said and laughed.
“I’ll use this if I have to,” Davina said, trying her best to control her trembling. “Jean, get out of the way!”
Grady aimed his gun at Davina. But she was quicker. She pulled the trigger first. Grady flew back onto the wall behind him. He crawled to his knees and aimed the gun again at Davina. He changed his mind. He aimed it at Jean.
“No!” Davina screamed.
Before he could squeeze the trigger, Davina fired a second time. Grady slumped down onto the floor but he still wasn’t dead. He held up his gun at Davina again.
Davina shot again, and again, and again.
Jean went to where he lay. She kicked him as hard as she could, and then again and again, duplicating the shots Davina had fired, wishing she had been the one to kill him.
“Jean, stop,” Davina said. “He’s dead!” She pulled her away.
Jean crumpled into Davina’s arms. Police sirens wailed.
Davina held her. “Are you alright?”
“Davina, I’m so sorry. I was trying to protect you from him. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Davina, please forgive me. I beg you.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Davina said. “Zeferino told me. He made me understand.”
“You’re always there for me,” Jean said. “You’re always giving. I never returned any of the giving.”
“It’s alright, Jean. Your heart spoke. That’s what I heard, your heart.”
“Davina, will you be my baby’s godmother?”
Police burst into the house.
“Jean!” Sergeant Ernesto Martinez shouted. “Davina!”
“Back here, we’re okay.”
Martinez looked from Grady’s body to the two women. It’s over, he thought. Finally.
Jean doubled over in pain.
“What is it?” Davina asked.
“I don’t know. The baby…I’m bleeding. It hurts.”
“Ernesto, help me,” Davina said.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I don’t know. She’s bleeding. That son-of-a-bitch kicked her.”
“An ambulance is on the way.”
“Let’s not wait. My car.”
Martinez, against his better judgment, helped Jean into Davina’s car, and ordered two cruisers to accompany them, one in front and the other behind.
Davina floored it without waiting for her escort. Jean held on. Both police cruisers, surprised at the speed she had taken off at finally managed to catch up to her.
At the hospital, as Jean was being rolled out to the Emergency Room, said to Davina: “Hell of a ride. Ever think about racing?”
Jean’s baby was delivered by caesarian section, a little premature but healthy. Zeferino arrived in time to hear the baby’s first cry.
“My son,” he said to Davina.
“My godchild,” Davina said.
Jean held both their hands. She shut her eyes. She knew, they all knew, that fox’s secret was the delicious obsession of their hearts.
♫♫♫
BOOK THREE
WARRIOR MUSIC
____________
DENISE KAHN
DEDICATION
For my son, Michael
One of the first gallant Marines to march into Iraq during
Operation Iraqi Freedom
To all members of the military,
And those who support them, past, present and future
We are grateful, and thank you.
Bless you all.
A mind at peace does not engender wars.
SOPHOCLES,
Oedipus Rex
Let's face it—if mothers ruled the world
there wouldn't be any goddamn wars in the first place.
SALLY FIELD
acceptance speech,
2007 Emmy Awards
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It is said that before we are born we choose our parents. Thank you, Michael, for the choice you made. I am proud and honored of the title
Mom
you bestowed on me. That is, and will always be, my highest award. Thank you also for your gallant service, and for all the questions you so graciously and patiently answered. Without your contributions this novel would not have been possible.
Thank you also to my own Mother. You are perfection not only as a Mom, but as a best friend. You went through and survived your own war, and more than anyone you knew what your grandson might have been going through. Though you surely fought your own perdition, you never let on. You were always stoic, and as strong as the Colossus of Rhodes.
Thank you to amazing friends and colleagues, who not only love my ‘little boy’, but whose hearts would skip a beat every time they thought of him during his deployment in the war zones.
Thank you to passers-by who shook Michael’s hand and thanked him for his service, which, when I happened to be present, would always move me to tears.
And last, but definitely not least, to all the individuals who have prayed and supported the men and women of the Armed Forces, whether you have/had someone in uniform or not—THANK YOU!
Denise Kahn
WASHINGTON, D.C.
MARCH 22
nd
, 2003
PROLOGUE
Davina Walters lay awake staring at the ceiling. How many more sleepless nights would she have to endure? How would she cope if her worst fears came true? Only a mother could understand her thoughts and emotions at this turning point in her life, and more importantly her son’s. She smiled as she remembered her apprehension that she might not like him, because people said babies were ugly when they were born. But the moment she first laid eyes on her newborn son she realized that this statement could have not been further from the truth. The day Max first entered the world he had a full head of dark brown hair, so much so one of the nurses had combed and parted it on the side. And his eyes! Just like Alejandro’s, his father, a deep dark violet. Women would gasp at the sight of his eyes. “Elizabeth Taylor would be jealous,” they would say. But his eyes would eventually change by the age of two. They turned into a brilliant powder blue, and his hair lightened to a shiny Nordic blonde. Little Max looked very much like his father at this young age, but as he grew into adolescence his features would resemble those of Davina’s father William. From then on his eyes would change with his mood. Blue when he was happy, and a hazy gray when anger overtook him. For the rest of Max’s life his eyes would be his storyteller. Davina always thought she could look into her son’s precious heart through his eyes. Where were those eyes now Davina wondered, What were they staring at?
KUWAIT/IRAQ BORDER
MARCH 22
nd
, 2003
On the other side of the world, those eyes were dark blue and fully alert. They stared at the crisp, sinister sky. The stars were so bright and so close Max thought he could touch them.
Guide me through this night,
he silently begged the bright spots in the blue-black sky,
guide us through this unknown, and the surely unfamiliar hell my brothers and I are about to enter.
“Hey, man, what the fuck are we doing here?” Colin Haferty, the Louisiana native asked in his sweet, Deep South accent.
“We are going to kick some ass!” Jock Stapleton, the man from the Bronx answered.
“Hoo-rah!” The three buddies resounded. They had been together since the beginning in boot camp on Parris Island, and now found themselves on a border in a foreign land, prepared for such an occasion. No brothers could have been closer.
They sat next to their green Humvee, waiting for the orders to march into the ancient sands of Iraq. They had been waiting, bored out of their minds, for the past four weeks. To pass the time they would play spades and some poker, their antes cough drops of different colors from a big bag one of the mothers had sent in a care package. They also passed the time by beating rhythms on the rims and rubber of different sized wheels and tires.
Colin started singing ...
Courtesy of the red, white and blue...
It would become, and remain, the theme song of this war. The other two men listened and then joined in. As Max listened to the sound coming out of Colin Haferty’s mouth, he kept thinking that the world should have the privilege of hearing the beauty of this virtuoso. He made a mental note to tell his mother, certain she would be able to help.
The signal they had been waiting for came via the booming voice of the Gunnery Sergeant: “Get your asses in gear! This is what we’ve been waiting for! This is what Marines do! We make history! NOW MOVE!
The young men shared a quick glance at one another. As they looked into each other’s eyes they held a look—of a love unique among warriors, of unknown adventure, of camaraderie and brotherhood. At that very moment the three buddies understood the full meaning of the Marines dictum
Semper Fidelis
, Always Faithful. As they headed out they knew that the brother on either side was more important than their own self. They would protect each other and share the travails of the journey ahead, as elite fighters among the world’s best. They were proud to be United States Marines.
♫