Broken (The Raiford Chronicles #3 Book 1) Page 29

  Meanwhile, Kyle and Courtney kept their own schedule. They visited the same sights, but in their own time. They also rented a car and explored the wine county and took off for a weekend on the Riviera.

  Back in Paris, they walked the streets hand in hand. Stopping just to look at the Seine, the pull was irresistible. Kyle took Courtney's face in his hands. First, he kissed her, pouring his soul into every breath. He then gazed intently into her eyes.

  "Kyle?" Courtney asked. "Is everything all right?"

  "Everything is perfect. Courtney Marissa Reynolds, I love you. You are my rock, my strength. In your embrace, I've found who I am. You've shown me that I can be a man."

  He reached into his pocket. "I've been carrying this since the day I disappeared in Belgium. I went to Antwerp. You can find the finest diamonds there."

  He dropped to one knee and opened the box he held. Inside was a platinum half carat flawless solitaire in an oval setting. "Will you marry me, Courtney?"

  "My dad will have a nervous breakdown."

  "I'm not asking your dad to marry me."

  "You know I will. When? Where?"

  "Here in Paris before we go home."

  "My dad will truly have a nervous breakdown."

  "Yeah, he might." He gave her a cockeyed grin. "I'm glad your mother's here to calm him down."

  Kyle slipped the ring on Courtney's finger. He stood and kissed her again.

  "Well," she said, "we had best get this show on the road. We only have a couple of weeks left in Paris."

  Kyle and Courtney entered the hotel suite earlier than any previous night. Cherie was already asleep, but Ray and Larkin snuggled romantically on the couch. Ray looked over his shoulder. "What a surprise!" he quipped.

  "That's only the first surprise," said Courtney.

  "Oh, God," moaned Ray. "Show me the ring."

  "You're not surprised?" asked Courtney.

  "Not really. Kyle hinted at as much during the Greek Isle cruise."

  Courtney gleefully showed her parents the ring. Ray looked at the young people. "Tell the rest."

  Kyle took Courtney's hand as he said, "We'd like to get married here in Paris before we go home."

  The look on Ray's face said everything. "What about college?" he asked.

  "We can still go to college. We know it won't be easy, but Patrick and Jenna have made it. So we can."

  "What about the rest of the family?"

  "We can have a reception when we get home." Kyle sounded like Robert strengthening an argument.

  "Your mother will have a stroke."

  "No, she won't. She was expecting this."

  "What if I say, 'No'?"

  Kyle breathed deeply. "We will appeal to your saner side." He looked at Larkin.

  "Don't look at me!" she said. "You're both eighteen. You can do it whether we approve or not."

  "But we want your approval, not to mention your attendance."

  Nobody said anything for a while. Finally, Ray asked, "When?"

  "Tomorrow would be good," said Courtney.

  "Day after," said Larkin. "At least let us get a wedding dress."

  "Deal," agreed Kyle.

  Ray glowered at the two. "I knew it was coming. I just wanted it to be longer. Are you wearing white?"

  "Absolutely, Daddy," answered Courtney.

  "All right then. Day after tomorrow. That will be January thirteenth, my birthday. Thanks for the gift—a new son."

  Two days passed very quickly. Kyle and Courtney appeared before the magistrate in the American Embassy in the early evening of Ray's birthday. Courtney wore a soft flowing silk dress that could just as easily have been an evening dress with a small fur jacket. Kyle wore a modest tailored suit. Ray, Larkin and Cherie watched with frayed nerves as the two exchanged simple vows. The couple kissed discreetly and walked out as Mr. and Mrs. Raiford Kyle LaFontaine. They stopped in front of the frozen fountain of the official building so Larkin could snap a few pictures against a blanket of fresh snow as a carpet.

  During their weeks abroad, Ray had made frequent calls home. All seemed to be well. So, when his phone rang as he and his wife stood on the steps of the government building after finishing the photos of the impromptu wedding before he could call home with the news, he was not totally surprised although it was only noon in Louisiana. It was Raif. Ray assumed he was calling to wish him a happy birthday and wondering why Ray had not yet called since January thirteenth arrived in Paris before it did in Eau Boueuse. Ray looked at Larkin. "How does he always sense when I need him?"

  40

  Collision Course

  The weeks while Ray was in Europe had been stress-free in Louisiana. Michael sat without assistance and learned "Patty Cake" with his mother, sisters, and two surrogate, resident grandmothers, Colleen and Amelia. Lydia started first grade. She was thrilled when her teacher sent home the forms to have her tested for the gifted program. Raif already knew she was far ahead of most six-year-olds. He happily signed the forms.

  Kimberly LaFontaine began her first year at LSU. It became quick knowledge that she was off limits to the Greek boys. Christopher Reynolds made sure every fraternity member knew Kimberly was his girl.

  Christopher's second year brought him several honors. He was invited to join an academic fraternity and named one of the youngest resident assistants in LSU history.

  Jenna Gautier began her last year at Tulane while Patrick worked for Gautier and Associates, but he stayed in New Orleans to oversee the expansion of Pierre Charmant's gallery.

  Ray, Larkin, Courtney, Kyle, and Cherie celebrated Christmas Parisian style, but called the Bertram home while the family feast was in progress. They had shipped gifts from Europe. It was exhilarating to know there were no cares back home.

  The New Year began with a bang—everyone was happy. For the first time in quite a while, nobody in the Reynolds-Gautier inner circle seemed to have a serious concern. Life was good.

  Feeling content on the first day of Jenna's last semester, January thirteenth, Patrick Gautier sat on the side of his bed and kissed the pretty redhead who still slept. "I'm leaving," he whispered as Jenna opened her eyes.

  "I don't 'ave class until ten," she murmured groggily.

  "Go back to sleep. I'll see you tonight. I love you."

  "I love ya, too, Patrick. I'll see ya tanight."

  "Be careful later. It's raining."

  "Ya, too."

  Patrick kissed his wife again and left for work.

  A little after ten, as Patrick and Pierre discussed the half-wall that could also serve as a display shelf, Patrick's phone rang, and he looked perplexed. "It's the city," he said to Pierre. "Don't panic. I see the look on your face. There's nothing wrong with the zoning or building permits." Patrick answered, "Hello?"

  A female voice said, "May I speak with Patrick Gautier, please?"

  "This is Patrick Gautier."

  "Is your wife Jenna Gautier?"

  "Yes," Patrick answered as his heart started to pound.

  "Mr. Gautier, there's been an accident."

  Patrick cut the woman off. "Oh, my God! Where is she? Please, she's not? Please?"

  "She's been taken to Tulane University Hospital. The situation is critical."

  "I'm on my way." Patrick turned to Pierre. "Jenna's been in an accident. I have to go." His hands shook.

  Pierre, who felt a bit shaken, too, for he adored Jenna, offered, "I'll drive you. You're too upset to drive, Patrick. We don't need a second accident."

  Patrick nodded. "Thanks, Pierre."

  Patrick arrived at the hospital near hysterics. The doctor attending Jenna tried to calm him. "Mr. Gautier, please. You need to be calm for your wife. She's in critical condition. She has internal injuries and severe head trauma. We need to perform extensive surgery, but I need your permission. I can't promise you that we can save the baby, too, but Jenna will die without this."

  "The what?" asked Patrick, suddenly fully conscious of all that was being said.

  "
You didn't know your wife is pregnant?"

  Patrick shook his head as if in total shock.

  "Well," said the doctor, "it's possible that she didn't even realize it yet. It's very early. Nonetheless, the surgery is necessary. I'll do everything I can for both of them, but at this point, Jenna is the only viable life. I need you to sign the papers."

  Patrick signed the forms in a daze. He turned to Pierre. "I need my dad."

  "Of course you do. Call him."

  Raif's personal phone rang as he met with the Eau Boueuse city planners. They wanted him to design a new civic center. He checked the number and let it go to voice mail. He figured Patrick was calling simply to wish him a happy birthday. It could wait.

  The phone rang again. Once again, it was Patrick, and Raif ignored it although he thought it a little strange Patrick would be so insistent with a birthday greeting. When the phone rang a third time, Raif knew it had to be important. "Excuse me," he said. "This is my son. I need to take the call."

  Raif answered, "Patrick, what's wrong?"

  Patrick started sobbing into the phone. Pierre took it from him. "Raif, this is Pierre. Patrick needs you. Jenna has been in a wreck. It's very serious. They just took her to surgery. We're at Tulane University Hospital."

  "I'll be there as soon as possible, Pierre, probably a couple of hours."

  Raif turned to the committee. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have an emergency in New Orleans. My daughter-in-law has been in a car accident. We can meet next week. Check with Lana on your way out to set an appointment." He stood. The city representatives wished him all the best and left.

  Raif did not go home, but headed to New Orleans from the office. In the car, he called Neely and told her what was happening. She said, "Go straight there. I'll get Gram, and we'll meet you. I'll ask Colleen to call everybody else. I'll have to bring Michael, but we'll be there in a few hours."

  Raif found Patrick still waiting in the drab room with rows of chairs and a table covered in outdated magazine. Only one other person besides Patrick and Pierre sat in the far corner. The young man fell into his father's arms. "I'm sure she'll be fine," Raif consoled, trying to sound confident.

  "Dad," Patrick choked, "she's pregnant. I didn't know

  Raif held Patrick close. "Let's think the best. Come on. Let's pray."

  Ray stood on the steps to the American Embassy where his daughter had just married Kyle LaFontaine. He needed his brother. His phone rang and he answered, "Happy birthday to you, too, but how did you know I needed you right now?"

  Raif replied, "I didn't. I need you more." Raif told Ray the situation.

  Ray said, "We'll get on the first flight out." When he told his group what had happened, nobody, not even the newlyweds, disputed the need to get home.

  After making the call to Ray, Raif sat next to Patrick and held him as if he were a little boy.

  They waited.

  Neely and Gram got there before Jenna came out of surgery.

  They waited.

  Every time the intercom crackled they expected to hear a code for the worst.

  They waited.

  Finally, after seven and a half hours, the doctor emerged. "Mr. Gautier, I see you have family here. That's good. Jenna is in a coma. She had severe head trauma. We had to drain the swelling on her brain. She also had internal injuries." With each explanation, the doctor seemed to pat the air gently with his palm. "She lost her spleen, but we were able to repair the damage to her kidney; however, we need to monitor its healing closely. One lung was collapsed; we re-inflated it. Her heart muscle is bruised. I cannot tell you when or even if she'll wake up. She's on life support. Surprisingly, the baby is still with us. You might have to make some very hard decisions. Only time will tell."

  A few hours later, Patrick slept with his head on Jenna's bed. Raif looked in on them. By that time, Patrick's whole family except Trista and Townes, Lindsay and Dupree, and Ray's family in Europe had arrived. Raif whispered to Neely, "This isn't good. I already called Ray because I need him. It's time to call Trista and Lindsay. Will you, please, get them here while I give Ray an update?"

  The first flight back to the States did not leave Paris until two the next morning, but Ray booked them on it, and they went to the airport to wait. Ray's phone rang, and when he saw it was Raif, he worried. "Hey," he answered. "How bad is it?"

  Raif told him what the doctor had said. "We're coming," Ray assured. "Our flight leaves at two. How is Patrick?"

  "Broken. Ray, it was bad enough that she had the accident, but to find out she was pregnant like that is killing him."

  "I understand."

  "Why did you need me? I never gave you the opportunity to tell me."

  "When you called, we were standing on the steps of the American Embassy."

  "Did somebody lose a passport?"

  "No, I gained a son."

  Raif could not help but chuckle. "I'm twenty dollars richer. I made a bet with Neely that they would come back married. It's okay, Ray. They're good together."

  "I realize that, or I would've thrown a fit."

  "You would've lost anyway. Tell them I send my congrats, and I apologize for cheating them of their wedding night."

  "Merci, mon frère."

  "Ray, she's a grown woman, and a married woman. Just wait until it's Cherie."

  "I think I'll lock my little Firecracker in her room for life."

  "Might be a good idea. I would venture to say she'll be your real trial. You've had no trouble from your kids. Your time is coming."

  "I love you, too. Seriously, tell Patrick we're on our way and already praying. These international flights take a while. It won't be tomorrow."

  41

  An Off Year

  Three days after the accident, Ray and his family went straight to the hospital from the airport. They arrived only hours after Trista, Lindsay, and Dupree. Townes was once again at sea.

  There had been no change in Jenna's condition. She was still in a coma, and the stress on Patrick's face aged him twenty years.

  The details of the accident were finally available. A tractor-trailer had hydroplaned in the pouring rain and jackknifed on I-10. The trailer had collided with Jenna's car and two others, crushing all of them. A total of five occupants of the other two vehicles were killed, and the driver of the rig was also in critical condition.

  Days stretched into weeks before the doctor broached a subject he knew would break a young man's heart, perhaps, twofold. Finally, Dr. Sinise had little choice. Patrick would have to make a decision or wait a very long time to change his mind. He talked to Patrick openly and honestly in the presence of his family.

  "Patrick, you have to decide. Do we terminate life support and pray for a miracle or keep it going for the baby? There's low-level brain activity."

  "So? She's not brain dead?"

  "No, but if you wait much longer, this facility will be forced to maintain life support until we can deliver the baby. I would like that to be a minimum of thirty-six weeks. Jenna is around eighteen weeks."

  Patrick snorted softly. "Some choice there. Do I allow both my wife and child to die, or do I wait and allow only my wife to die? I want both of them."

  Patrick looked around at his family.

  "Follow yer 'eart, Patrick," said Gram Thornton, tears streaming down her face.

  Neely took Patrick's hand. "Believe in miracles," she whispered.

  "Dad?" Patrick asked pitifully.

  "I can't make this decision for you, son."

  "Patrick," said Ray, "I was faced with the same choice when Parker was shot."

  "He's alive, Uncle Ray."

  "Yes. He took the choice out of my hands. He woke up. Go talk to Jenna."

  "She can't hear me."

  "Are you sure? Dr. Sinise said she has low-level brain activity."

  Patrick stared at his uncle. He gave a quick nod and went to his wife. Patrick sat by Jenna's bed. He held her hand against his stubbly cheek. "Oh, my beautiful, exquisite Irish Spring. H
ow I need you to blow a soft breeze over me right now. I just cannot let you go." Patrick laid his head on Jenna's abdomen and wept silent tears. The slightest twitch of Jenna's hand roused him.

  "All right," he said as if Jenna had spoken to him.

  Patrick returned to the waiting room. "This is how it is," he said. "Worst possible scenario—disconnect life support, they both die. I won't do that. Jenna would never forgive me if I let anything happen to this baby. We had talked about a family, but we were waiting for her to finish her degree. Keep the life support going. We'll take the baby when it's time. Then, we'll get Jenna to wake up if she doesn't before."

  "Patrick," said Dr. Sinise, "Jenna's care will get very expensive."

  "We'll manage," Patrick stated.

  "Very well. After the baby's delivered, if she doesn't wake up, we'll make more decisions then. Honestly, I didn't expect a different choice from you, but I'm required to give you every alternative. I'll be bringing in Dr. Terres, a well-respected OB-GYN. She'll make all the decisions regarding the baby."

  After that, weeks became months. Patrick's family spelled his vigil, taking turns sitting with Jenna and always talking to her and praying in her presence. Patrick bought Jenna pretty, but sensible, lingerie to wear in her sleeping state. Her crowning glory, her copper wavy hair that had been shorn for surgery, began to grow back.

  Every day, Patrick himself groomed and bathed his wife.

  Still, she slept.

  Every day, he helped the physical therapist with exercises to keep the young woman's muscles from atrophy.