“Will you quit waving it around?! It's all there!”
Benny watched as Susan went to his car and removed the baby, taking both the carrier and the blanket. She went to her van and opened a diaper bag. It had formula, diapers, and clothes. Benny noticed that the van had Missouri plates and a St. Luke's Hospital parking sticker.
So that's where you’re from. Might be useful information sometime.
She changed the baby and heated some formula with a portable bottle warmer she had plugged into the van's lighter. When it was ready, she wrapped the baby in a dry blanket and sat to feed him. It was then that she noticed Benny watching her.
“You want something?!”
“No, guess not.”
He wasn't sure what to do.
“Then beat it, and try not to do anything stupid!”
Benny swore at her and got back in his car. He had places to go and money to burn. He drove off without looking back.
****
Stan was waiting for his sister’s call.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Stan. On my way north, everything went smoothly.”
“Good, let me know when you hit town. I'll set up the delivery.”
They hung up and Stan called the Duncan’s.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Katie?”
“Yes?”
“This is Zeb Johnson. I am calling to arrange the appointment to drop off your new baby.”
“Really? Great, when?”
“Tomorrow afternoon okay?”
“Sure, what time?”
“Say four?”
“Great, see you then.” She hung up and called Wade, then her mom.
When she hung up with her mom, she looked at the living room. Their baby was coming home and that called for a celebration. A party was in order.
****
Blue balloons were hung from every light fixture, railing, and picture frame available. There were white streamers running back and forth across the ceiling in the living room. A table was set up in the room's center with plates, forks, and a large blue and white cake. On the cake were three words.
“Welcome home, Jack”, Katie read aloud to herself.
Shirley smiled.
“It was very sweet of you to name him after his grandfather; I am sure he's smiling down proudly from above.”
“It just felt right.”
Katie reached over to hug her mother. Wade was on the other side of the table and watched as the two shared somewhere between thetenth andtwentieth hug today. Not that he minded; he had gotten his share, as well.
There was a knock and they all stopped. Staring at the door, nobody moved. Wade wasn't sure anyone was breathing. They stood frozen until Shirley finally broke the silence.
“Are you going to get it, Wade?”
He snapped out of it and rushed to the door. When he opened it, there stood the lawyer with the baby—their baby—wrapped in a blanket. Wade was sure he stopped breathing this time. My son.
“Come in, come in.”
Zeb came through the door and walked towards Katie. Katie was frozen in place, her eyes glued to the little bundle in the lawyer's arms. When he got to her, he reached out and gently laid the baby in her arms. Katie just stood staring down at the tiny bundle. When she looked up, Wade was watching her, tears running down his face.
Shirley stood looking over Katie's shoulder.
“Welcome, Jack. Aren't you a doll?”
Zeb pulled out a folder of papers and gave them to Wade.
“Do you have my clients’ check?”
Wade reached over to the desk and retrieved the check.
“Please tell your clients, again, how much we appreciate their sacrifice.”
“I will. I assure you that they did what they felt was best for the child.”
He turned and walked back to the door.
“I must go. They're waiting for me to notify them that the baby is safe. I wish you all the best.”
The door shut and then it was just them. A family. Not Wade and Katie and Shirley, but Dad and Mom and Grandma. Baby Jack had just changed the way they saw themselves forever.
Chapter 4
Michael Barton sat in the doctor's office, staring out the window. Large oak trees shaded the parking lot outside. People came and went, any one of whom might know something about what happened to his son. It had been two and a half Years since their son had been taken, and it still consumed his thoughts on a daily basis. The police were no closer to finding him today than they had been on that awful afternoon.
He and Tammy had been cleared early on. What followed were searches of ponds, woods, and dumpsters. They didn't say it, but he knew that they were looking for a body. He couldn't accept that. He felt that his son was still alive; he knew it inside. He was the only one. Even Tammy had seemed to give up all hope.
He and Tammy had been trying for another child for the last Year and a half with no luck, so Tammy had gone to the doctor. It had been a normal check-up with a pap smear, but the doctor's response had been unsettling. Instead of the standard letter saying everything was fine, they had received an ominous call asking them to make an appointment with a Dr.
Sanders.
Dr. Sanders was an oncologist.
“What's an oncologist?” Tammy had asked him.
“It's a cancer doctor.”
“Oh,” was all she said, and then she dialed the number that had been left with the message.
Her reaction still haunted him. She didn't seem surprised, or even upset. He, on the other hand, was shocked. It never occurred to him that her not getting pregnant could be the result of something as serious as cancer.
She had wanted to go to the first appointment alone, saying it was just a bunch of testing, but he wouldn't hear of it. She turned out to be right: they didn't talk to the doctor for more than a few minutes, but the tests had gone on for hours.
Today, they were back to hear the results. He heard someone come in, and turned to see the serious face of Dr. Jim Sanders. They shook hands and the doctor slid behind the desk. Opening a file he had been carrying with him, he looked up at Michael and Tammy. Clearly uncomfortable, he shifted in his seat..
“I'm afraid the news is not good.” He paused and shifted again.
“You have ovarian cancer, and it has spread.”
There was silence for several minutes. Michael reached over and took Tammy's hand.
“What do we do to treat it?” he asked.
“Our options are limited, I'm afraid. Surgery will be pointless, as the cancer has metastasized. Chemo is one option. It is unlikely to stop it, at best, maybe slow it down.”
“What about radiation?” Michael pressed.
“Radiation is a possibility, but it, too, will likely only delay the outcome. I'm afraid that, short of a miracle, the cancer is terminal.”
Michael's anger flared. Not just at the doctor or the cancer, but all of it. His son was gone, they couldn't have more kids, and now he was being told that their life together was over. Michael lurched to his feet.
“That's not good enough!! What else?”
“Please, Mr. Barton. Sit down. Believe me, I am telling you the truth. The cancer is too far along for the treatments we have available these days. I'm sorry.”
Michael paced the office.
“What about trials, drug testing? Aren’t there things like that that she can try?”
“I did some research last night and there are no trials going on that are suitable for Tammy.”
“How much time would chemo give her?”