SEAL Firsts Page 44

  “But you knew where to hit it.”

  “Nope. I guessed.”

  Chapter 19

  T.J. got a call from his liaison during breakfast. Shannon had finally fallen asleep and he preferred to leave her that way.

  “What’s up, Chief?”

  “T.J., I got a collect call from Tennessee, and I didn’t accept the charges at first. They never called back, but left a number. I could hear a man’s voice on the other end, and he kept shouting out your name over the operator.”

  T.J. closed their bedroom door shut before answering. “Who was this guy?”

  “He says he’s your father, T.J.”

  He’d always known that someday something would surface about his family. He expected to be contacted by a sister or brother, or perhaps his mother, but not his dad. T.J. had always envisioned a beautiful woman who had given him birth, remembering one of his foster parents’ words about how she’d been a beauty queen in Arkansas. So, perhaps his father was from Tennessee. That could be possible.

  “Can I have that number, Chief?” he asked. Even as he blurted the words, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to talk to the man. But reflex made him ask anyway.

  “Well, son, I’m afraid I have some bad news on that front.”

  “I don’t understand, Chief Collins.”

  “The call came from Riverbend Maximum Security Prison.”

  It was as if he’d run into the end of a telephone pole they’d trained with in his BUD/S class. A wave of nausea consumed him. Black blotchy spots formed before his eyes, and he fought back dizziness.

  Fuck me. My dad’s a serial killer or child molester. If it was a maximum security prison, he wasn’t there for stealing a car or writing too many bad checks, not that that would have been okay with T.J., either.

  He didn’t remember much of what Collins had to say after that, but he did have his wits about him to at least write down the phone number. After he hung up, he saw that a similar number was showing on his phone without voicemail. Could these be from two different family members? Maybe his mother? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, judging from how well he’d scored with the last scenario.

  He hit re-dial, and it was answered by a message.

  “You’ve reached the office of inmate special services Travis Banks of the Riverbend Correctional Facility in Nashville. I’m not available to take your call…”

  Before he knew it, a beep indicated he was to leave a message. What the fuck do I say? He hung up and cursed.

  What am I, in grammar school?

  T.J. stomped around the kitchen, opening cupboards, looking for something to eat. He grabbed an apple from a fruit bowl and took a bite out of it. The interior of the apple was soft and a little mushy and contained the remnants of a worm, probably less than half of what he had in his mouth. He opened the front door, spit out the fruit onto the shrubbery, and threw the apple like he was throwing a grenade, past the next street at least, over the tops of red tiled roofs, until it was out of sight. He knew he could throw it far enough to make it to the estuary. He thought he had enough on it to send the red fruit all the way to heaven, but after a few seconds he heard the unmistakable sound of a car alarm going off.

  Son of a bitch.

  Walking inside, he slammed the front door shut, rattling the walls, and then he remembered Shannon.

  Her face was white as she ran to him, bolting from the bedroom like it was on fire. “What is it, T.J.? What’s happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Stop that. You tell me right now what’s going on. I’m getting really freaked here. I haven’t seen this side of you. Ever.”

  He tried to take her in his arms, but she slipped away, hugging herself, twisting from side to side.

  “Tell me first,” she whispered.

  T.J. lumbered over to the couch and collapsed, his face in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. He mumbled, hoping she wouldn’t hear, “I found my dad.”

  “What? I can’t hear you.”

  He really didn’t want to tell her, but he would have to. This was going to ruin everything.

  “T.J. I want to know what’s gotten into you? I need to know what you’re—”

  T.J. stood tall, and for a moment he saw fear on Shannon’s face. At the same instant, the nausea in his stomach increased. He held his forefinger up to her. “Be right back,” he said as he ran for the bathroom and deposited his coffee, breakfast cereal and what must have been left of the worm in the toilet.

  After washing up, he came back to the living room to face Shannon, who hadn’t moved. It was painful to see tears welling up in her eyes. He gripped the rounded doorway trim, inhaling, and said,

  “I think I found my dad.”

  At first Shannon had a broad smile on her face as her eyes widened, her forehead creased in happy anticipation of a reunion he knew wasn’t going to happen. She angled her head, frowning, but her voice was hopeful. “That’s great, T.J. You’ve always wanted to find them.”

  “No. I did not.”

  “Yes you did, sweetheart.”

  “I fucking did not! And I fucking wish they were dead, or at least my dad. No wonder they never reached out to me. He couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I think he’s been in prison my whole life!”

  “You don’t know that, T.J. Did you talk to him?”

  “Fuck, no.”

  Shannon stepped back. “You need to lower that tone. You’re starting to scare me.”

  At this, his knees nearly gave way. He was mucking up everything. One royal fuckup after another. “You suppose he’s known about me all along?”

  “Beats me. You have a number to call him?”

  “I’ve already—” Then he remembered he hadn’t left a message for the guy from the prison. He pushed the red redial button and got voicemail. “Sir, my name is T.J. Talbot and you called me today. Someone also talked to my liaison. I’m in the Navy, sir. The person my Chief overheard said he was my father. I spent my whole life in foster care, so I have no clue if my name rings a bell at all. Fact is, I don’t really know who I am.”

  He left his cell number.

  He held up the piece of paper, “I’m going to call this one now.”

  The phone rang and rang and rang without anyone picking it up. He was going to have to wait for the prison official to call him back. If his father was in prison, he was guessing this was a payphone in a prison common area used by inmates.

  Shannon was drinking a glass of water. Her complexion was still pale. T.J. looked at her fingers and noticed her rings were tight. She filled up another glass and sat in the living room to drink it.

  “How’re you feeling?”

  “Not very good, T.J. I think I should go back to bed. Can you come?”

  “I’m going to let you rest. I’ve got some Team stuff to do, to read over. Don’t want to disturb you.”

  “You don’t disturb me. I like it when you’re there.”

  “Should I call the doc?”

  “If I can’t sleep, might as well call him. Come to bed when you can, okay? I like having you next to me. I’m a little stressed for some reason.”

  T.J. registered that now Shannon was feeling some stress, which might mean her blood pressure was rising. None of these signs were encouraging, but if Shannon wasn’t in pain and could sleep, he figured that would give her the most benefit. He decided to stay up in case someone from Tennessee tried to call him back.

  Chapter 20

  T.J. finally came to bed close to midnight and Shannon was engulfed in a deep sleep. He said a little prayer of thanks for this. He snuggled next to her, spooning to her backside, like he often did.

  As the sun was peeking through the curtains, T.J. woke up and found the bed soaked. The baby wasn’t due for nearly another month, but the doctor had said it could happen any day and the baby would be fine. So he figured Shannon’s water had broken. But when he looked over at her, her skin was pale and clammy. She wo
ke up slowly, more slowly than usual.

  Something was seriously wrong.

  When he turned on the nightstand light and drew back the sheets he saw the brownish stain everywhere, not clear like he’d seen in his Corpsman training. And Shannon’s lack of energy told him she was in real trouble.

  He cursed himself for not checking on her earlier. Damn, I should have paid attention.

  He dialed their doctor.

  “Doc, she’s pale and has cold sweats. The bed is wet, but the water is light brown, Doc.” He was near hysterics.

  “She needs to be admitted. Can you get her here fast, because if not, I’m sending an ambulance.”

  “Shit, Doc. She going to be okay? Is the baby okay?” He watched as Shannon nearly fainted, coming from the bathroom where he’d heard her vomit.

  “Can’t tell, son. But the longer we’re on the phone the worse it’s gonna get. You get her to the hospital STAT, understood?”

  “Understood.”

  He hung up and ran to assist Shannon. He got out her favorite pair of drawstring pajama bottoms, and a big shirt. The SEAL wives had made a quilt for Courtney, and he wrapped it around her shoulders, which made her burst out crying. Her emotional reaction sent him into the stratosphere with worry.

  “You need anything, honey?”

  “I couldn’t keep anything down, even if.” She inhaled and then let her tears burst forth, grabbing him and pounding her fists to his chest. “This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

  “No worries. Please, Shannon. I’m here. We’re going to meet the doc at the hospital. He’ll have everything ready.”

  She’d been complaining of her feet hurting, and her fingers swelling. Now he saw her ankles swollen, almost bulging over her feet. He knew if they were this way right now, after a night lying down, it was a horrible sign.

  He raced to the hospital and got there within fifteen minutes. Shannon was in pain, and had been consumed with heavy contractions. He was supposed to encourage her, thank her for enduring the pain. But he wasn’t sure the pain was normal, since something was seriously wrong with the delivery. And he knew Shannon was sick. He hoped little Courtney would be tough enough to survive.

  Doc Peters met them already dressed in scrubs.

  “I want to be there. I have medic training,” T.J. whispered to him, trying to calm Shannon’s frowns as another contraction hit her. They were coming more frequently.

  “They’ll get you prepped, but right now I gotta get her examined and then into surgery. We’re set up for a STAT C-Section.”

  T.J. didn’t want to let loose of Shannon’s hand, but finally allowed the heavyset nurse to lead him through a side door after they entered the double swinging doors of the surgery unit.

  Scrubbed and prepped, armed with a mask, the operation was well underway when T.J. and the operating nurse entered the cold, sterile room. The sight of Shannon’s blood on the table was not something he was prepared for, though it was normal and he had seen blood hundreds of times and had it spill or spray all over him many times in battle. She had been put under a general anesthetic, a breathing mask over her mouth. Sounds of her heartbeat were strong, but irregular. He recognized a very faint secondary heartbeat and realized the baby was in serious distress.

  A sensor rang out as T.J. stepped next to the doctor, just far enough away so as not to interfere. The belly incision was completed, and he could see the bluish webbing of skin that was the uterus. A quick slice revealed an unmoving baby with a sickening blue cast to the skin. T.J. caught his breath.

  There was no crying as little Courtney was lifted from her mother’s womb. She was carried to the lighted crib, the pediatrician rubbing her skin roughly with towels under the warm lights, and working to suction her nose and mouth quickly before starting CPR. A monitor was placed on the baby’s chest but there was no heartbeat. T.J. was grateful Shannon wasn’t awake to experience the pain of knowing the baby was stillborn.

  More sensors were going off as they worked on Shannon’s body as it went into convulsions. Orders were shouted over the din of beeping. He might have recognized what was being said, but he was in a state of shock.

  Come on, Shannon. You can’t leave me now. Being drawn between two horrible scenes, T.J. didn’t know where he belonged, and he felt ripped apart.

  He almost missed the little bit of good news as the pediatrician shouted, “And folks, we have a live birth.” The baby still looked a light shade of pale blue, but had some pink to the chest and upper thighs, the face going from a light shade of purple to pink in the stretch of thirty seconds.

  Doc Peters barked at him, “Go be with your baby. Nothing for you to do here, T.J.” He immediately obeyed.

  My baby. No, this is Frankie’s baby. And I’m not going to let anything fuckin’ happen to her.

  The pediatrician’s eyes showed a smile as T.J. touched little Courtney with his gloved hand. “Hey there, little Courtney. You’re all right now. Mom’s a little busy, honey, but you are just as sweet as can be. Love you, sweet thing.” Hot tears coursed down his cheeks, blotting in his mask. He felt the reassurance of a tap to his back by one of the nurses as the doctor placed a breathing mask over the baby’s mouth. Another nurse stuck a needle into her foot to extract blood, which drew a healthy reaction.

  He was given a warm towel to continue to rub Courtney’s feet, squeezing them, feeling the baby pull her toes back, raise her knees. At last he heard a raspy and tremulous cry through the mask. But it was one of the most wonderful sounds he’d ever heard.

  “That’s right, Courtney. You tell your mom you’re here. Tell her you want her to get herself over here to hold you, Courtney, honey.”

  “She’s a big girl,” the doctor said. “Over eight pounds. That’s good for her.”

  “Thank God, she’s a girl.”

  “We’re not out of the woods yet. She can’t yet breathe on her own. But she’s stabilizing. We’ll know more in twenty four hours.”

  “Hear that, Courtney? Honey, you’re gonna have to let them take care of you a little longer. You gotta breathe, sweetheart. We’re all right here. You’re beautiful, Courtney. My beautiful little girl.”

  Work on Shannon slowed as Doc Peters announced her vitals were improving.

  “That a girl, Shannon. Hang in there. No more scares.”

  T.J. stopped rubbing Courtney’s feet and looked over at Shannon’s face, which had also pinked up. Trained to be even-keeled, to keep his emotions in check, he felt like he was going to explode. He didn’t know if it was pain or delight. The mixture of fear and joy jumbled his insides. He wanted to rattle the walls and blow out the windows with a battle cry he knew would scare the entire ward. So he took a deep breath and swallowed. His hands were shaking and his guts were doing flip-flops.

  One of the pretty nurses smiled up at him with her warm brown eyes, her long lashes glistening like she’d been crying too. “She’s going to be fine. Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.”

  The comment didn’t make him feel better.

  She patted his shoulder again, like she had done before. “Relax,” she whispered.

  T.J. stepped back and almost lost his balance.

  “He’s done,” Doc Peters said to one of the attendants, nodding in T.J.’s direction.

  “No. I’m not leaving.” He inhaled again and stepped to the table and took Shannon’s hand, punctured with tubes held strapped in plastic tape. He rubbed her fingers and felt them warm to his touch. She was still way too cold, but her breathing was normal. “I’m here, Shannon. Courtney is in good hands now. I’m here, baby. Not leaving until you wake up.”

  The pediatrician wheeled baby Courtney from the operating room.

  “She’s beautiful, Shannon. Big strong girl, like you, sweetheart.”

  He felt her body stir. He looked up at the doctor, who had successfully stitched her belly up and was wiping her down with surgical wash. Peters nodded, so T.J. continued. “She’s got Frankie’s big jowls, fat
cheeks. And her thighs, well, honey, those didn’t come from you, sweetheart. Must have been on Frankie’s side of the family because that one’s going to be a high jumper. She’s built like a rabbit.”

  A couple of the attendants giggled.

  “I’ve seen lots of babies, Shannon, all wrinkled and misshapen. Little Courtney looks to be a beauty queen so far. Except for her—” He was going to say coloring, or something indicating she looked like a space alien, but thought better of it. “She’s a blueblood all right. Not that she’s blue or anything, just, just—” He wasn’t having any luck recalling something appropriate, so he did something he was used to doing. “Fuck, honey, you sure gave me a scare. I’m here for the long haul, baby. Don’t fuckin’ leave me, Shannon. Don’t ever leave me.”

  The pretty nurse’s eyes sparkled. Dr. Peters grunted, but it was a grunt of approval. The gray-haired physician looked up at him and nodded. In muffled tones coming through the mask, he mumbled. “Go get yourself five or ten, T.J. She’s not going to wake up for another hour or so. We’ll come find you when she awakens so you can be there, okay? Go get yourself a quick nap.

  “But I want to stay,” he answered.

  “If you don’t leave, I’ll make them get you, son. You’ve done all you can. Now leave us to do our jobs. You go do yours, which is buck up for the next round. I’ll be out to see you in a bit.”

  With that, T.J. was led out of the operating room.

  Chapter 21

  Shannon felt as if she’d been run over by a girls’ soccer team, cleats and all. Her head was pounding, her belly hurt, and when she moved her legs, it really hurt. She needed some pain medication, and right away. As she opened her eyes, for a second she wondered where she was, and then she remembered.

  Courtney!

  The white ceiling tiles moved back and forth as she started focusing on the sharp burning in her lower belly, intensifying until she heard a groan that sounded like it was from someone beside her, and then felt the last rumbles of it leaving her own chest. Instantly, there was someone peering over at her.