The two pilots made a quick turnaround to Dallas and Mexico and back, and were in the rental car with Brother Jake by three a.m. on their way back to Bayou Rose. Along the way, they got updates on the outcome, rather progress thus far, of the mission.
All hell was breaking loose in Lafayette where John LeDeux and Tank Woodrow had delivered the twelve recently kidnapped girls to their superiors. They claimed ignorance of the dead or wounded or restrained bodies in the depot parking lot. Said they’d just got an anonymous tip that there was a shuttle van full of crying girls over there, and this is what they found. They had no idea what that empty eighteen-wheeler was doing there.
The news media was all over the story, and the FBI had been called in, too. John and Tank were being grilled like crazy. Aaron hoped they held up. He was pretty sure they would be okay. John LeDeux was notorious for pulling off crazy operations, within the confines of the law. Besides, Tante Lulu would never allow anything to happen to her favorite nephew.
Fleur was safely back at Bayou Rose with the busload of a dozen other girls. How this would all pan out, Aaron had no idea.
“I’m getting too old for this crap,” Aaron said with a sigh as he hunkered down, half lying across the back seat. “I don’t know how you guys do this all the time.”
“Once your heart starts beating lower than the speed of sound, and you pretty up your wounds, you’re ready to go again,” Snake told him.
“Just like the military,” Brother Jake added. “You go where you’re called. Except our commander has a bit more clout.”
“It’s like childbirth. You forget the pain after the delivery, and feel real good about what you produced.” This from Snake, who hadn’t a clue about actual childbirth. At least, Aaron didn’t think he did.
“Speaking of which . . . have you heard from your brother?” Brother Jake asked.
“He was at Bayou Rose when the girls arrived. So, I assume that he and Samantha are still in a holding pattern,” Aaron told them.
It was five a.m. and not yet dawn when they got back to the plantation. The cottages were dark, except for some dim lights, maybe lamps, and only a few rooms were lit in the mansion, the kitchen, and one of the salons. None of the bedrooms, as far as he could tell. He didn’t see Dan’s car among the three or four that were there, presumably the social worker and other volunteers. Even the bus was gone.
“I’m going to see if there’s any grub in the kitchen before hitting the sack for a few hours,” Brother Jake said.
“You know there will be,” Aaron said, “especially with Tante Lulu in the house. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to see her waiting up for you.”
Snake yawned widely. “Me . . . I need sleep more than food. See you both in a few hours.”
“I’m going to check on Fleur,” Aaron said, and he didn’t care if the two priests objected.
They didn’t.
But first, Aaron felt the need to wash away the muck of this night. He went over to his pickup truck, which was still parked in the driveway, and pulled out a clean T-shirt and a pair of boxers from a gym duffel bag. He didn’t bother to go to the garçonniére, but instead used the rain forest shower in the mansion. Within ten minutes, he was on his way to the third floor and Fleur’s bedroom. He was barefooted, so hopefully he wouldn’t awaken Sister Mary Michael, who was in the other bedroom up here in the attic.
He didn’t bother to knock. Again, not wanting to awaken the nun next door. Instead, he eased the door open. To his surprise, he could see by a dim nightlight that Fleur was sitting up in the bed, wide awake. She opened her arms to him and said in a whisper, “I thought you’d never come.”
He could have made a joke with some double entendre, but he was too happy to be home. Yes, home. And the time for jokes was over.
The terrible trouble was over . . . or was it? . . .
Aaron was still sleeping when Fleur slipped out of bed at seven a.m. He was lying on his stomach, nude, with his head resting on his folded arms.
What beauty God created when he first made man! Fleur thought as she looked down on him. Adam could have been no more perfect in his heavenly design.
Aaron was long and lean with wide shoulders, a narrow waist and hips, nicely curved buttocks, and black-furred legs. He was muscular, but not overly so. Frankly, she could have stood and admired him for hours. But she was already late, and there was much work to be done downstairs.
Not for him, though. Aaron had endured a hard night, even harder than she had, and she didn’t just mean the already purpling bruises on his arms and ribs and thighs, even his face. And his stress level had been higher, too. The risk of flying those girls to Dallas and back into Mexico had posed all kinds of dangers, especially when Miguel’s group failed to report back to their bosses. If human flesh equated with money, they’d probably lost at least a million dollars, between the two mafias.
As Fleur dressed quickly in capris and an oversize tunic which she belted at the waist, she considered the dilemma she now faced. One of many. Miguel had been killed tonight, by one or both of them, despite all of Brother Jake’s admonitions about nonviolence.
She wasn’t sorry the man was dead. It would have been either him or Aaron in that last struggle. But the Bible said that people had to forgive their enemies. She wasn’t sure she was ready to do that yet. If ever. And that fact certainly put an exclamation mark on her religious aspirations.
The thing she felt most guilty about was that Aaron now bore the burden of Miguel’s murder, too, and it had been almost solely on her behalf. So, either way, she was responsible for a man’s death.
It was a moral question soldiers had to handle all the time. Killing for a good cause. If Brother Brian hadn’t left yet, perhaps she could talk to him about it. But then, he would probably want to hear her confession, and her face heated at what she would have to disclose.
Ah, well, these were weighty issues to be resolved later.
She’d been up herself until three a.m. When she’d returned to the plantation, around one-thirty, she’d helped to process the girls that she and Sister Mary Michael had brought in, with the help of Mel, Tante Lulu, Sister Carlotta, a social worker, a St. Jude’s Street Apostle volunteer, Dr. Alphonse Dorset from Alabama, his medical assistant, and Daniel LeDeux.
Surprisingly, Tante Lulu had been the one most successful in calming the girls down, all of whom were now wearing St. Jude medals on chains around their necks, whether they were Catholic or not. The energy of Tante Lulu was remarkable for a woman her age. She’d still been awake when Fleur had gone to bed, even though, in the end, it had been decided that the best thing for everyone was sleep.
It had been a restless sleep for Fleur, though, as she worried about and listened for Aaron’s return. He had called earlier, when he’d returned to the airport following his flight to and from Mexico, but still she couldn’t be sure of his safety. She didn’t hear the sound of the rental car until five a.m.
When she’d lifted the sheet for him to come into bed with her, he’d shucked his shirt and shorts with amazing speed, the grin on his face promising big plans. But he’d cuddled up to her, spoon-style, whispered against her neck, “I love you, Fleur,” then fell instantly asleep.
She couldn’t complain. In fact, sleeping in Aaron’s embrace had been as satisfying as his lovemaking would have been, in its own, different way. He would have scoffed at that idea. Still, there was no doubt about it, she had fallen for the man.
On that thought, she traveled downstairs to find the two priests in the hallway outside the now-cleared dining room, dressed for travel in the normal garb of their profession. Actually, Fleur had seen some of the Street Apostles in the brown hooded robes of monks on occasion, but she imagined they would be uncomfortable in this heat and for traveling. No, what they wore now were short-sleeve black shirts with white clerical collars tucked into belted black slacks. What a switch from their attire of last night! Still, these two priests would turn heads at the airport, where Ed would drive them shortly for the short jaunt to Dallas. Many a woman would sigh as they passed by and wonder why the “best ones” were always either priests or gay.
“You’re leaving already?” Fleur asked.
They both nodded.
“Our work is done here,” Brother Brian said.
“Others can take over now,” Brother Jake added, then laughed. “I know Sister Mary Michael will be glad to see me gone. I heard her tell that other nun that I have a Patton complex, whatever that is. I don’t think it was a compliment.”
Fleur smiled and said her good-byes to both men, a bit embarrassed by the background yapping of “Holy shit!” coming from that infernal bird nearby in one of the parlors.
But Brother Jake just laughed and said, “No respect for God’s disciples!”
“Rather humbling, isn’t it?” Brother Brian mused. “Reminds me of—”
“Spare me, Lord! The man is going to start spouting Irish proverbs again, all the way to Dallas. As silver is tried by the fire and gold by the hearth, thus the Lord trieth this monk’s faith. See, I know proverbs, too. That was a proverb, wasn’t it?” Brother Jake was still rambling on as they picked up their carry-ons and walked toward the front door.
Fleur noticed that all of the animals had come to say good-bye to the Irish priest, too. And, bless his heart, he leaned down to say a special word to each of them.
The kitchen was empty when Fleur got there, but she could hear Tante Lulu and Lily Beth talking, back in the laundry room. Fleur was able to get a mug of coffee and grab a sweet beignet before going outside and up the lane toward the cottages.
It was hard to imagine that these twelve girls were the same ones she and Sister Mary Michael had transported last night. Scrubbed clean, wearing normal teenage clothes (shorts or yoga pants with T-shirts), they looked almost normal. Which they would never be again, not quite, Fleur knew.
Fleur found Mel in the first cottage with the social worker, both of whom were on phones, whether to parents or agencies that might help them, she wasn’t sure. In one of the cottages, she found two of the girls lying in beds, needing medical attention from the doctor who was still there with his assistant. Daniel had left last night—rather, early this morning—when it appeared that none would need hospital admissions.
Sister Carlotta had arranged several girls in a circle in another cottage, and they appeared to be praying. Fleur noticed that one of the rescuees was clutching a plastic St. Jude statue.
Fleur found out from Lily Beth, as she was passing, that Sister Mary Michael and Ed were returning the bus and the rental vehicle this morning. They should be back soon with a friend of Ed’s.
In the last cottage, there was a young girl sitting on a glider on the front porch. She was older than the others. Probably closer to seventeen. Her pale blonde hair framed a delicate face that would have been pretty if it weren’t for the hardness of her blue eyes and a scar which caused one side of her mouth to lift slightly.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?” Fleur asked.
The girl shrugged.
Fleur just sat and they rocked forward and backward for several minutes. It was pleasant this time of day, sunny but not too warm yet. And the surroundings were beautiful. Not that this wounded bird would care about any of that. Not yet.
“My name is Fleur Gaudet,” she said.
At first the girl said nothing. But then, she reluctantly told her. “Annette Tyler. From Louisville, Kentucky.”
They rocked some more in silence.
But then, Fleur sighed and began to disclose her story. “I was fourteen years old when I was kidnapped by Miguel Vascone from a bus station in New Orleans. My best friend Frannie was taken with me. She died a month later. But me . . . me, I died slowly over the next six years in one brothel after another in Mexico and other places.”
The girl turned slowly to look at her. “Six years?”
Fleur nodded.
“Three years for me,” the girl whispered. Then, “My friends used to call me Annie.”
“Well, Annie, I can only say that things will get better. I know, hard to believe now, but they will. I’m proof of that.”
There were tears in the girl’s eyes now, and hope.
This is what I am meant to do, Fleur recognized, and began to relate the story of her rescue and the long years of healing. When she was done, both of them were weeping. Fleur took her hand and led her down to the cottage where Mel was still working. She told the older lady, “Annie would like to talk to you about her grandmother who might be willing to take her in.”
To Fleur’s surprise, Annie turned abruptly and hugged her tightly. “Thank you. You are an angel.”
Hardly, Fleur thought, but she was pleased as she turned to walk away. That was when she saw Aaron walking toward her.
He was fully dressed in jeans, a Swamp Rats band T-shirt, and his usual cowboy boots. His face, white and bloodless, caused her to freeze and gasp.
“What’s the matter?”
“They’ve taken Samantha into surgery. I’m leaving now for the hospital.”
“Oh, Aaron!” she said, stepping into his arms and hugging him. “What can I do?”
“Pray.”
Oh, baby! . . .
Aaron arrived at the hospital in record time. An attendant was waiting for him by the emergency room door and escorted him up a private elevator to the surgical wing. That was ominous.
“Have the babies been born yet?” Aaron asked urgently.
“Nah. I think they’re waiting for you.”
They who? “What? No way!”
But they were, the whole surgical team, and some were not too happy about the delay. They would only do this as a favor to a fellow doctor. “Can we get this show on the road now, Doctor LeDeux?” a man in full surgical scrubs asked sarcastically of Dan, who was also suited up in blue doctor attire, complete with cap and mouth mask and paper boot thingees over his shoes.
“Hurry!” Dan urged Aaron, after tugging down the mask to speak. “Nurse, can you help him scrub up and get him in here pronto?”
“Are you crazy? I can’t go in there,” he told Dan. “I mean, I’m here for you, bro, but you don’t really want me seeing your wife’s coochie parts.”
Dan laughed. “You won’t be seeing her coochie parts. This is a C-section. All you’ll be seeing is her belly when they slit it open.”
“Oh, that’s better.”
“I need you,” Dan said. And that was all he needed to say.
The nurse scrubbed his hands and arms practically raw before suiting him up like a blue space man, then led him into the icy cold surgery room where Samantha was laid out, surrounded by a group of doctors and nurses, including Dan, who was leaning over talking to her at the head of the table. Machines hummed and tubes connected her to various monitors.
“She’s awake?” he asked the closest nurse.
Dan nodded. “She’s had a Duramorph spinal, but we need her awake during the birth.”
“Oh, boy!” he said and moved up to stand beside his brother.
“Hello, Aaron,” Samantha said through a voice which was surprisingly calm. Her head was covered by what looked like a shower cap, leaving only her face exposed. And, man, were the freckles standing out on her white skin today! Had she already lost a lot of blood or was this how she always looked without make-up? As if any of that mattered! Dan was looking at her like she was the most beautiful woman alive.
But then, they bared Samantha’s huge belly, which seemed to be rippling with activity. And Holy Crawfish! Talk about freckles! And big ones, too! Some of them were the size of dimes. Probably because of her expanded skin, he decided with hysterical irrelevance.
After swiping her belly with some kind of disinfectant, the surgeon immediately made a slit across the bulge (Whoa! How about a little warning, doc?), raising a strip of red which got wider and gushier as the cut was spread. Aaron heard an oomphy sound beside him and watched with horror as Dan slid to the floor in a dead faint. Almost immediately, Samantha grabbed Aaron’s hand in a death grip and ordered, “Don’t you dare fall on me, too.”
Thus it was that Aaron got to watch the whole bloody, gory, wonderful process up close and personal while his brother was being revived somewhere in the background. When the two slimy masses, covered with some white crap resembling lard, were removed from Samantha’s belly, a nurse announced, “Here you go, Mommy,” and placed them briefly on her belly where she touched them with reverent fingers. Then, the babies were handed over to a nurse for immediate suctioning and cleansing and medical tests.
When the infants made little squeaking sounds that passed for crying, Aaron couldn’t help but exclaim, “Would you look at the peckers on those big boys?” Unfortunately, there had been a momentary lull and his words echoed in the silent room before laughter burst out.
“They’re both boys,” Dan said with awe, gazing at the newborns. Apparently, he’d risen just in time and he now took Samantha’s hand in his to kiss the knuckles through his mask. The look they exchanged, then cast toward their newborns, which were being raised above her belly again for their inspection, now that they were clean, was pure love.
Although certainly of a viable size at three pounds five ounces each, as announced by one of the nurses, they were still premature and had to be taken away in small preemie carts to the neonatal care unit. This was all as expected, as Dan had warned him earlier when he first mentioned a C-section days ago.
The surgeons shooed them out then as they stitched Samantha up. She was already dozing off. Aaron went into a private waiting room with Dan where the two brothers stared at each other with amazement over what they’d just witnessed, then hugged each other tightly.
“Thank you for having me here,” Aaron choked out.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe I can do the same for you someday.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears.”
Whose ears? the voice in his head said.
It was a miracle, all right . . .
Everyone was excited back at the plantation over the birth of the twins, not least of whom was the babies’ honorary grandmother, Aunt Mel. In fact, she burst out bawling at the news when Aaron called her a little after noon.
When Mel was told that the newborns, both boys, would be named David and Andrew, following on the D and A names of Daniel and Aaron, she burst out crying again. And then she laughed when Aaron told her that forever after the twins would probably be referred to as the DNA boys, which he had to explain, “You know, D and A.” For some reason, that word association had never been made with Daniel and Aaron.
But then, he sent photos of the babies, and Mel wasn’t the only one crying. They were adorable, even as preemies with their eyes closed and little caps on their heads, wrapped tightly in swaddling blankets. He also sent a selfie of himself and Daniel in hospital scrubs with their arms looped over each other’s shoulders with loopy grins on their identical faces (more identical now in the same attire). The tagline read: “Proud Father and Proud Godfather-to-be.”
Almost immediately after that, Aaron left Fleur a private voice mail message:
“Meet me in one hour in the garçonniére. Man!
Try saying that real fast. I’ll bring champagne.
Wait till I tell you how I practically delivered these babies by myself. Just kidding.
Did I mention, Dan fainted? WTF! He will never live that down.
Anyhow, I’m on my way.
Be there.
Please.
Love you.”
Aaron sounded higher than a kite, and Fleur had to smile at that. But she also felt a tugging of her heartstrings at how excited he was over the babies, knowing he could never duplicate that with her.
Fleur first checked with Mel to see if she needed her help with the girls.
“No, we’re managing here. We’ve already arranged for five of the girls to be picked up by family. No, not here at the plantation. We don’t want there to be any connection between us here and the rescues. A restaurant parking lot outside Houma will do for the drop-offs.”
“And the others?”
“There are some group homes for troubled teens that have openings. The social worker and her assistants will take them when they leave.”
“It’s amazing how fast it goes.”
“Isn’t it? But then, the longer it takes, the greater the chance of the authorities or the news media showing up. Not that we’re doing anything wrong, but there would be so many questions. I keep forgetting, you’ve been through all this before, on previous missions.”
“Yes, but they’re never the same. Often there is no family willing to take any of them.”
“That happened with two of the girls today. So sad! To be rejected by one’s own family!”
Fleur nodded, knowing how that felt. “Then, there are some girls who want to go back to the life.”
“In any case, chances are that there will only be two or three girls here by tonight,” Aunt Mel told her. “By tomorrow, those left will probably go back to the convent with the two sisters.”
After that, Fleur went into the kitchen where Tante Lulu was cooking, again.
“Do you mind if I put together a tray for Aaron?” Fleur asked. “He’ll be back soon, and I don’t think he’s eaten since yesterday afternoon.”
“Sure, honey. There’s ham and cheese and bread jist warm from the oven fer sandwiches. Sweet and sour pickles. Some of them leftover Alaskan Fried Green Tomatoes you like so much. A slice of my Peachy Praline Cobbler Cake. One of them fruit tarts from Starr Bakery. Canned pears.”
“Enough!” Fleur said with a laugh. While she was preparing the tray, she mentioned, “Now that Miguel is out of the picture, you’ll be wanting to go back to your cottage, I suppose.”
“Yep. Can’t wait ta get started on the cleanup.”
Fleur was filled with sudden dismay. Would she be leaving Bayou Rose and Aaron so soon? Surely, Tante Lulu would expect her to go with her. After all, she had a job to fulfill, compiling her herbal remedies and writing her biography. “Did you want to go back today?”
The old lady shook her head. “Not yet. Still work ta be done here. Mebbe t’morrow. Tee-John took my car ta be gassed up, but he’s bringin’ it back any minute now, jist soz it’s on hand.”
“Speaking of John, is he okay? With his superiors, I mean?”
“Oh, that boy could wiggle outta anything. Allus could.”
“And the news media?”
“Thass another story. The New Orleans TV station reported this mornin’ on a bunch of kidnapped girls bein’ suddenly rescued by some off duty cops in Lafayette. And they said the FBI was investigatin’ that empty tractor trailer left in the parking lot. Thass all. Still, it’s a worry, ’specially with the newspaper folks. Those journalists gotta dig and dig till they get some dirt. I figger it’s best fer everyone ta lie low fer awhile. And say nothin’.”
Hah! Tante Lulu had nerve warning others to keep quiet. But Fleur said nothing in that regard.
“Of course, now that the babies are born, and all those other babies are about ta be born, we gotta hurry and arrange a baby shower.”
Fleur didn’t like the sound of that “we.”
“It’ll be the biggest baby shower the South has ever seen. Has ta be when we’re celebratin’ at least seven little ones comin’ inta this world, mebbe more. Not jist Samantha and Daniel’s twins, but comin’ up real soon are Luc and Sylvie, René and Val, Remy and Rachel, Tee-John and Celine, Rusty and Charmaine. You should start lookin’ inta a place ta hold the shindig. Mebbe the veterans hall, or the convention center, or mebbe ya could talk Aaron inta hostin’ it here. Yeah, that would be good. And games . . . do ya know any good games? They don’t have strippers at baby showers, do they? No, I think that’s jist bridal showers. But what the hey! Mebbe we kin start a new tradition. Then, there’s the food. Oh, Lordy! So much work ta do! Ya better get started soon.”
Fleur felt like putting her face in her hands. First she was to be a recorder of folk medicine history, then a biographer, a chauffeur, a companion, now a party planner. But she knew enough to keep her lips zipped. Arguing with the old lady was comparable to hitting a brick wall.
After she’d put the tray together and carried it over to the garçonniére, up to the second floor living area, she looked around at the disarray. Aaron had left in a hurry this morning, and there were bits of clothing about, a dirty coffee cup, an opened jar of instant coffee. She straightened up a bit and put a CD into an old-fashioned player when she heard Aaron come bounding up the steps.
“It’s a miracle,” Barry belted out, just as Aaron came swooping in, lifted her in his arms, spun them both around, and said, “It was. A miracle. I can’t wait to tell you about it.” But then he kissed her and added, “Later.”
Happy birthday (or something) to me! . . .
Aaron was so happy he couldn’t contain himself. On the way back to Bayou Rose, he found himself alternately laughing and crying, and even singing along with some country song on the radio, something about all of a guy’s ex’s living in Texas, and that’s why he lived in Tennessee. He’d never imagined in a million years that he’d feel this way. About babies! And somehow it was all mixed up with how he felt about Fleur, too.
Crazy!
Crazy good!
And then, the icing on his personal cake of happiness was waiting for him in his apartment. Thank God she’d heeded his voice mail. She might not have. She might have been too busy. Or she just might not have wanted to. He hadn’t been sure. But here she was!
Happy, happy, happy, crazy, crazy, crazy.
He felt higher than a kite, and drunker than a skunk. And he hadn’t had a drop to drink for days. Maybe weeks. No, he’d had those beers a few days ago. Whatever.
With a joyous rebel yell, he picked her up, swung her around, and kissed her soundly. Which wasn’t nearly enough.
Picking her up, he carried her up the stairs to his bedroom and set her in the middle of the room. “I’m going to take a quick shower to wash off the hospital cooties. When I get back, I expect you to be in my bed, bare-assed naked, ready to screw my brains out. Or if you’re not so inclined, I might be willing to screw your brains out. Oh, man, was that too crude?”
“Go!” she said with a laugh.
When he returned, he found it was a day for miracles. Not only was she in his bed, bare-assed naked, but she was beckoning him with the fingers of both hands. “You know what I told you the other night, that I think I love you?”
“Uh-huh,” he replied, hesitantly, as he crawled onto the bed and over her.
“Now I know. I do. Love you.”
He was pretty sure the candles on his cake just burst into flames, like sparklers. Joy was a wonderful thing.
Then he found his joy in other ways.
Instead of tiptoeing around like he usually did with Fleur, worried that this or that might offend her or remind her of other times or other men, he let himself go. He just loved her. Loved her and loved her and loved her until she softened and began to respond in a like manner. With hands, and fingers, and lips, and tongues, and softly spoken words, he showed how he felt.
He couldn’t be gentle this time. His emotions were too high and too raw. He was rough in his need for her. But she didn’t seem to mind.
And he was done with coaxing, too. His kisses and caresses were insistent. “Show me,” he demanded.
To his surprise, and elation, she gave back as good as she got.
When he entered her, he could have cried with the sheer pleasure of her body’s reception. When he began his long, slow strokes, she was the one who cried . . . for more. When his thrusts became harder and shorter, and he made his final thrust into her spasming folds, they both shouted out their mutual elation.
“Tell me again,” he whispered afterward.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. Oh, Fleur, what a day this has been!” He tucked her into his side, kissed the top of her mussed hair, and related what had happened at the hospital. He couldn’t stop marveling over every little detail.
She didn’t ask many questions, but then, he didn’t give her much chance to speak.
“Wait until you see the little buggers. They already have a personality. Dave is more serious. He looks at you like he’s trying to figure out how he got here. Oh, I know newborns can’t really see. Then, Andy, oh, he is a wild one. Flailing his arms and legs, ready to skip this joint and go out into the world. Do you think they make cowboy boots for infants? Of course, these little guys will be in the hospital for a few weeks until they’re bigger, but they’re okay. Dan swears they are. Honestly, they are so teeny, their hands are no bigger than a half dollar.” He noticed the little smile on her face. “I’m going overboard, aren’t I?”
“No, you’ve just fallen in love with two little miracles.”
“I have, haven’t I? But then, that’s not the only miracle I’ve fallen for.” He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to hers. Her lips looked raw and kiss-swollen from his earlier roughness. He should feel guilty, but he didn’t.
“Oh, Aaron, don’t refer to me as a miracle,” she said, putting a hand to his face and rubbing her cheek against his chin.
“Us, then.”
“We are definitely not a miracle. Men and women have been doing what we just did from the beginning of time.”
“Someone’s in an argumentative mood. Okay. What say we create some miracles then?” He rolled over on his back so that she was on top.
He was teasing. He meant more sex. But she got an odd look on her face, as if he’d hurt her.
What is that about?
But then she made love to him, with a fervor that was powerful because of its tenderness. Afterward, she had tears in her eyes.
And he had to wonder, again, What is that about?
Some bucket lists are heartbreakers . . .
Fleur managed to get an appointment that afternoon with a gynecologist in Houma, a last-minute cancellation. She needed to get some conclusive answers before things went any further with Aaron.
Unfortunately, Fleur had to use Tante Lulu’s lavender tank of a car. Talk about being conspicuous! Not that she was being secretive, exactly.
Dr. Georgette Vincent sat down with Fleur after her examination, and her question was blunt. “What happened to you?”
Fleur told her.
Dr. Vincent didn’t seem shocked by Fleur’s words, and she was compassionate listening to her story. At the end, Fleur asked, “Can I ever have children?”
“No. The damage is too great. In fact, I would suggest you have a D&C. Oh, miracles happen sometimes, but your chances of ever conceiving are about one half of one percent, if that.”
“That’s what I thought,” Fleur said. “I just needed to make sure.”
After that, Fleur didn’t allow herself any time to wallow in self-pity, she had other equally important items on her to-do list today. She’d left Aaron sleeping back at his apartment. He wouldn’t miss her for several hours.
She stopped by the admissions office of the branch campus of Pelican University and got brochures related to social work majors and financial aid.
After that, she plugged a certain address into the mapping app on her iPhone and within fifteen minutes found herself on a little side street in Houma. She parked in front of a small ranch house which was neat but shabby in a neighborhood that would be considered low income. In front, there was a tricycle, and on the door, a neighborhood watch sign.
Fleur inhaled and exhaled several times before getting out of her car and walking up the sidewalk. She rang the bell, and it was several moments before a young woman, no more than nineteen or so, wearing a waitress uniform, answered. She carried a toddler in her arms, and a little boy sucking on his thumb clung to her knees. The poor girl must have had her first child when she was only sixteen.
“Oh, I thought you were the babysitter. Can I help you?” the girl/woman asked.
The last time Fleur had seen her she’d been three years old.
“Hi, Sarie.” Fleur gulped several times. “I’m your sister. Fleur.”