Chapter Nineteen

Renee sat by Clint’s bed in the ICU. The floor was quiet, the lights dim. Nurses staffed a station that looked as if it contained the control panel for a starship. The only noise came from the humming and beeping machines keeping patients alive and monitoring their condition.

She listened to his regular breathing, thankful they hadn’t put him on a respirator like so many others on the floor. The two cracked ribs hadn’t penetrated his lungs, but Clint lost his crushed spleen and suffered from a lacerated liver. The body armor worn beneath his shirt had prevented his death as well as quick action by the Mobile Sports Medicine team and the other bullfighters, but still, something could go wrong. She might lose him. Unthinkable. She must stay awake and watch over him. Greater powers were at work, however. Renee’s head nodded in the gloomy silence.

When she forced her eyes open again, a nun in the old style penguin habit stood by Clint’s side. The woman clasped her hands in prayer. Renee had thrown a few prayers into the wind herself on the frantic race to the hospital with Norma Jean Scruggs driving like she rode her barrel horses, fast and close to anything in her way as they followed the ambulance. Renee called on Lena Beck’s namesake, St. Mary Magdalene, to save her man, hoping that after being estranged from the church for so many years, heaven would hear her pleas.

She felt grateful to have Norma Jean on her side, too. The moment Clint said he loved her all jealousy of the flamboyant black-haired woman vanished like a vision and left space for friendship. When the hospital staff sought to bar her from the ICU as a non-relative, the barrel racer got into their faces. A riled Norma Jean had the power of a Texas twister.

“This woman is pregnant with that man’s twins. If that ain’t family, I don’t know who is. You go on in, honey. I’ll be in the waiting room if you need a ride, coffee, food, or anything else.”

True to her upbringing, despite the many headaches she’d given the nuns at Mt. Carmel Academy, Renee waited respectfully for the nun to finish her prayer. The robed woman at last raised her head and turned stern gray eyes toward Renee.

“Thank you for your prayer, Sister,” Renee whispered into the hush of the hospital room.

The nun, who looked strangely familiar, unclasped her hands and pointed a long, strong finger at the pregnant woman. “Marry this man or burn!” she commanded.

Mute and astounded, Renee jerked upright in her chair. The room was empty. She’d been dreaming of course. That’s what too much Catholicism did to a person. Suddenly wistful, she thought marrying Clint Beck might be her idea of heaven on earth, a heaven she didn’t deserve. “He hasn’t proposed, Sister,” she murmured, offering an excuse to the spectral nun. “And he shouldn’t just because I’m pregnant. I’ll ruin his life exactly like I always ruin mine. You have to understand.”

The best she could hope for would be generous child support, not that she deserved to be a mother either. He’d be a great dad, maybe not around too much since he’d be living in Texas, and according to him, running the business he’d long evaded because he always kept his word. But, he might keep in touch, stop by and take the kids for a nice vacation, teach them to ride, stay in their lives, be a real father who noticed what went on with them. The night grew long, and she slept again.

****

Renee woke with a stiff neck and a full bladder. Another person stood in the room. Not the scary nun, thank heaven, but brightly-dressed Madalena Beck. She looked as cheerful as a bouquet of daisies in this sterile place where flowers weren’t allowed and gave Renee a friendly smile.

“I got here an hour ago but didn’t want to wake you or Clint. The jet has gone back for his father who had some paperwork to complete before coming. Snuffy and Norma Jean are out in the waiting room. They tell me you’re going to be the mother of twins.”

Instantly defensive, Renee straightened in her chair. “They belong to Clint.”

“Of course, they do. Santa Maria Magdalena promised me a wonderful miracle would occur if I could take you into my heart. I have done so. What could be more miraculous or wonderful than twin grandbabies?”

“Right now, having Clint open his eyes, hearing his voice again, knowing he will have a full recovery.”

“Also true.”

Whether their voices wakened Clint or whether Renee had received her own small miracle, the man in the bed groaned and opened his eyes. Their deep sea blue appeared glazed by pain or drugs, but he opened his mouth and said in a dry croak, “My two favorite women together. My kind of vision. Had one earlier. This tall, old nun prayed over me.” Clint coughed. “Thought I was dying.”

“Did she speak to you?” Renee poured a glass of water and held it to his lips.

Clint swallowed. “No. Not a word. Just got a weird feeling I had to wake up and do something before things went wrong.”

“Sounds like the nuns I grew up with. Do it their way, and do it now. Rest Clint, and get better. Don’t worry about it.” She stroked his hair.

“I’m not worried. I know what I need to do. First, tell me what happened.”

“Tsunami Sam nailed you to the wall after you helped Lonnie over the barricade.”

“Yeah, right. Then what?” Clint glimpsed down at the tubes and wires attached to his body.

“Son, they had to take out your spleen and repair your liver,” Mrs. Beck said gently. “Two ribs were also broken, but your lungs are fine.”

Clint came back stronger. “Broken ribs are nothing. I guess I can do without my spleen. As long as I’m able to say ‘I do’, Renee and I can get married. You were right, Mama. She is pregnant. I know Renee looks big for three months, but we’re having twins. Great, huh?”

Clint had this loopy look on his face prompting Renee to say, “Thank you for the lovely proposal, but you might want to rethink it when you aren’t drugged up.”

“No, no. I feel like shit, so it can’t be drugs. I planned a picnic with a great view and a nice ring. Honest to God, Renee, I was going to ask you. I want to be sure the babies have my name and my fortune in case… Well, people do die in hospitals. Mama, find a priest and get the paperwork started no matter what Renee says.”

A nurse, the picture of efficiency, briskly entered into the room. “I see Mr. Beck is awake and talking far too much for his condition. Everyone out for now. We have some routine maintenance to do here.”

Shunted into the hallway, Renee gave Lena Beck an embarrassed glance. “I really need to use the restroom.”

Mrs. Beck smiled. “I remember the feeling, and I carried only one child at a time. Go get some breakfast, too. I will remain by Clinton until you return.”

Getting the bathroom business out of the way very quickly, Renee poked her head into the waiting room where Norma Jean Scruggs lay stretched out, full length and asleep, in a recliner. Snuffy Jones, curled up on a sofa like an old dog on a favorite rug, snored loud as a buzz saw. He must have come over as soon as the bull riding event ended. Good people, both of them. The growling of her stomach grew so loud she was surprised it didn’t waken them.

Whatever people said about hospital food, after weeks of barely keeping down tea in the mornings, Renee wolfed a ham and cheese omelet, two slices of whole wheat toast, and a fruit cup. Trying to remember the last time she’d craved cow juice, she sucked up the last drops in a carton of milk. Not for years, though Clint drank it by the gallon. As if thinking of him summoned up his mother, Madalena Beck took the seat across from Renee and stirred two little pots of half and half into her cup of coffee.

“Shouldn’t you be with Clint? You’re his real family.”

“They’ve given him drugs for the pain and put him back to sleep. He fought it off while trying to give me a to-do list.” Lena showed Renee a sheet of paper torn from an address book. “By item number four, he was out.”

Renee looked over the list with its cryptic abbreviations.

Get priest

Do paperwork

Take Renee shopping, w.d.

Jewelry

“I don’t want to go shopping. I have clothes back at the Inn and more at home. He doesn’t owe me a new wardrobe. I keep telling him that.”

“W.D., Renee. He wants you to have a wedding dress.”

“Mrs. Beck, you ought to know I’ve been married twice before. I’ve had the big white wedding at the cathedral in Lafayette. I’ve done the destination wedding in the Bahamas. My first husband divorced me for adultery, and I killed my second husband with sex.”

Mrs. Beck nodded. “He was elderly, your second husband, but you were fond of him. Clinton and I keep in touch through e-mail when he is on the road.”

“Ah, yes, the hidden laptop. Then, I suppose you know I am tainted, too.”

“I know about your uncle, yes. The fault was not yours. You saved your sister from that evil man.”

“I could have saved more girls if I had spoken up sooner—Uncle Dewey’s own daughter, who knows how many others. I didn’t want anybody to know what he did to me. If Clint hadn’t forced the matter at my mother’s funeral, I would never have spoken out. I am a coward.” Renee kept her eyes on her empty plate. Her stomach churned.

“Not any more. You will testify against this terrible man. And if you feel yourself falter, Clinton has courage enough for both of you.”

“That’s true. Mrs. Beck…”

“Le-na, please, or Mama Lena is what my sons-in-law call me.” She patted Renee’s clenched hands with her be-ringed fingers.

“Lena, Clint is the kind of man who will marry me because of these babies. Not so long ago, I would have jumped at the chance for another rich husband. When we first met, I was bored. I went on the road with a simple cowboy for a lark—and to shock my family and friends. I’ve been doing that for years. If I’d known he had money, I would have dragged him to Vegas for a ceremony. I can’t do that to him now.”

“You are wrong about the babies. Before you left Hacienda Hidalgo, Clinton told me he would marry you even when he thought you carried another man’s child.”

Renee gave her a wavery smile. “That’s Clint. Always putting himself between trouble and a person who needs protection. But, I’ll be fine, really.”

“You know my son is brave and kind of heart. You should also know he is very, very stubborn, like his father, and could not be forced to marry anyone. Clinton is the man who tore up his Harvard MBA in front of my husband, told him to stuff the family business, and ran off to join the rodeo. They didn’t speak for months until Gunter offered him a contract stating Clint would have ten years of complete freedom and financial support if he returned to the Beck Corporation at the end of that time. The time has come for my son to settle down, and he wants to do that with you. Believe me, if Clinton did not love you, he would see that you and the children were cared for, but he would not put a ring on your finger.”

“That’s another thing—about caring for the babies. I doubt I can be a good mother. My own wasn’t much of an example.”

“Nonsense!” Lena Beck exclaimed. “Clinton has told me how well you got along with the children at the rodeos, how kind you were to Gracie Jones. He says you would protect your children with the ferocity of a tigress.”

“That’s certainly true. I’d never let someone hurt my children the way Uncle Dewey hurt me. I’d see the signs. I’d know and prevent it. As for other children, they don’t judge a person. A big smile, a comfortable lap, a very big chest, and a few soft words wins them over—along with a large bag of toys.”

“Exactly. You see, you already know some of the secrets of motherhood. My daughters and I can teach you more. You will not be alone in this. And if I do say so, Clinton will be an excellent father having learned from Gunter’s mistakes.”

“You don’t have a happy marriage, Lena?” Renee asked, twisting the straw of her milk carton between her fingers.

“Gunter and I have been together for fifty years, my dear. Considering how we met, we have been very good for each other. I grew up at a private school run by nuns as you did, but I was very obedient. Then, Papi sent me to a women’s college for the rest of my education. I was so sheltered it makes my daughters laugh. Shortly after my graduation, young, handsome, and very Anglo, Gunter Beck, came to arrange contracts with my father for agricultural products that have been raised on Hidalgo land for centuries. Papi invited him to dinner at our hacienda. With Gunter so very stiff and proper, my father allowed him to walk with me in the courtyard when Gunter asked him so very seriously if he could do so.”

Lena Beck wrinkled her nose. “I secretly hoped for someone with more fire who would come to my window at night and ride away with me like all romantic young women. We did go riding the next day with two of my father’s vaqueros right behind us. The courtship progressed very slowly, very formally. We were never left alone. Gunter asked my father for my hand before he asked me. I begged for time to consider the offer. I wanted to turn him down, of course. I could not imagine spending my life with this staid man. Papa approved of an alliance with the Beck family as good business, but he would not have forced me.”

“Yet you have been married for fifty years,” Renee marveled.

“That night, Santa Maria Magdalena came to me in my dreams and told me Gunter Beck had a great need for warmth only I could fill. The passion I craved lay just below his cold exterior. One does not ignore a saint. I discovered the truth of that on my wedding night. I do not believe Gunter has ever strayed, no matter how many foreign places he visits. When he teases me about getting messages from saints, I remind him he owes our marriage to Santa Maria.” Lena returned the smile she’d made blossom on Renee’s face.

“So, along came our daughters, Marisol and Annalise, then an ectopic pregnancy. I lost an ovary, nearly bled to death, and was told my chances for having more children were very slim. Gunter worried so about losing me that I started using a diaphragm, which failed to work when I was forty. Another vision told me I would have a son, a wonderful son. Renee, you must never turn down gifts from God.”

Renee touched her belly. “I haven’t. Even when I suspected what might be wrong with me, I did not consider abortion.” She laughed ruefully. “I guess the nuns got to me after all.”

“Yes. They have a way of doing that. So, only one question remains. Renee, do you love my son?” Lena looked directly into the eyes of the often-married Renee Niles Bouchard Hayes and waited.

Renee took a deep breath. “I love him so much that I know he should have a better bride. The best I could do for Clinton O. Beck is never to find out his middle name.”

Madalena Beck threw back her head and laughed. Her dangling earrings swung merrily. “Oh, that! Not only will you find out his middle name at the wedding, but my Gunter will insist the first boy born to you have it as his middle name. He is so very proud of his heritage. And now, since you and Clinton love each other, I suggest we go wedding dress shopping.