Part 19
10:05
Friday
25 September 2009
Wee Care Pediatric Clinic
Harm paced the colorful exam room trying to calm his screaming son. He felt worn and haggard. How did parents cope with this degree of sleep deprivation, he mused. Even when flying sorties of the Patrick Henry, he at least got an occasional respite for sleep. He looked at his new son, red-faced, wrinkled and scrunched in the latest crying stint. He sighed and rolled his eyes, maybe it was better he didn’t live through this with Ben…he wasn’t sure he was going to survive the week. Chancing a glance toward Mac, she seemed oblivious to the noise or at least more tolerant of it. Of course, the baby didn’t scream like this for her. He contemplated, not for the first or third or fiftieth time, that his new son hated him.
He grabbed a pacifier from the diaper bag on his thirtieth lap around the room. Offering it to the baby, the little one paused mid cry and sucked once, twice, three times before tonguing it out onto the floor. Wails resumed with gusto. Harm kicked the pacifier under the desk; experimental device number 13 bites the dust. He had yet to find a pacifier that did the trick. Sighing in frustration, he whined, “Mac, you wanna take him…I can’t make him stop?”
She smiled in sympathy, “Sure, give him to me.” She tucked the baby up against her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He settled almost immediately…finding his fist and chewing away.
Harm slumped in the adjoining chair, “How do you do that Mac? I can never get him to stop…except for food, and he can’t go through life with a bottle in his mouth.”
She ran a hand down his arm and grabbed his hand, “He’s just sensing your nervousness, Harm. He doesn’t deal well with stress and excessive activity…he’s just responding to your cues.”
“Was Ben like this?” his insecurity was reflected in his voice.
She squeezed his hand, “You have to remember that neither of us were around Ben at this age, but from what I remember Bernice describing…no, Ben was a really good baby. He would eat, sleep, wake and start all over again. But Ben didn’t have the same start in life that,” she sighed in frustration, “…Edgar…William…Fredrick…Matthew…whatever his name is…did. This little one’s responses and behaviors are exaggerated due to his early drug exposure, just like Josephine explained.
“Mac, that’s another thing…we have to come up with a name for this little guy. He can’t go through life as Baby Boy Rabb.”
She smiled, “I’m working on it. You nixed my first few choices and Ben hated the last one. We’ll figure it out, but it has to be something that meaningful for him.” Harm reached out to stroke the baby’s head, now that he was sleeping peacefully once again.
A short rap on the door announced the pediatrician’s arrival. Dr. Joseph Chadford was a tall young bundle of energy himself. He’d come highly recommended by Trish and Frank’s internist. Harm and Mac loved the fact that he was young and had finished his training in the last five years. His knowledge base and skills were fresh and modern, state-of-the-art so to speak. But his bedside manner was the true selling point, he took time for his patients and their families. He joked and played with the kids to put them at ease. Ben loved the ‘Big Clown’ as he called Dr. Joe.
Flipping through the chart in his hands, the doctor smiled at the exhausted parents. “Morning folks, looks like we have a new addition to the Rabb clan. What’s this little guy’s name?”
Harm blushed, “We can’t decide. Every time we think we have it figured out, Ben rejects the choice.”
The doctor laughed, “So the 3-year old gets veto power?”
Harm looked guilty, “Something like that…we thought it would help with sibling rivalry, if we let him decide, too. The baby was kind of a surprise. We didn’t have time to prepare Ben for a new brother…we just kind of sprung it on him.”
“So how is Ben taking all this?”
“Actually, pretty well I think,” Mac added. “He likes to help with feedings and giving baths, but runs to the other side of the house when the crying begins.”
“Ah, well I guess that brings us back the baby’s history.” The physician studied the paperwork from CPS and the hospital stay, “Let’s see…Baby Rabb was relinquished under the Safely Surrender Law and admitted to the UCSD Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for the first week. We don’t seem to know anything about his prenatal history except for the drug exposure. I see that the neonatologist did an extensive work-up during his hospitalization…and everything came back normal, except for the positive drug screen.” He set the chart aside and extended a hand toward the exam table, “Why don’t you get him undressed and I’ll take a look at Mister Rabb.
Mac removed the baby’s clothing, careful to leave the diaper tightly secured. Harm hovered at her side, watching the doctor’s movements. By the time he’d finished with his exam, Baby Rabb was in full voice once again.
Harm grimaced, “He does that all the time, except when he’s eating,” his shoulders slumped, “…or when Mac’s holding him.”
Dr. Joe smiled with insight, “Harm, why don’t you get the baby dressed and then we’ll chat.” The physician watched while Daddy changed the diaper and clothed the infant, before settling back into the chair with the wailing imp. Harm patted and jiggled and bounced in an attempt to console, before finally handing the tot off to Mac. Once in his Mommy’s quiet peaceful arms, Baby Rabb settled down to sleep.
Dr. Joe nodded, as the behaviors of Mom and Dad, confirmed his suspicions. Wheeling his chair closer to the seated family, the pediatrician began to explain. “First of all, I think you’re both doing an incredible job. These drug-exposed infants can be a bit trying at times. The good news is…the baby wasn’t exposed to narcotics…that means opiate drugs, like heroine, morphine, Demerol, Fentanyl and such. Those drugs can cause real problems with physical withdrawal. You actually have to treat the babies with an opiate drug and slowly wean the dose over weeks to months. If you stop an opiate too quickly, the baby can have seizures and brain damage.”
Harm’s eyes widened in concern, “But our baby won’t do that, right?”
Dr Joe smiled with reassurance, “No, we don’t see that kind of response from cocaine or methamphetamines. The babies exposed to those drugs tend to be a little more irritable and difficult to console, but it’s not from physical withdrawal. The babies like little Mister Rabb here…have what we call poor state control. They tend to overreact to external stimuli and have difficulty finding ways to soothe themselves. For example…Harm, when you hold the baby, you try to calm him by patting him on the back or bouncing him in your arms. But look at Mom over there, what do you see her doing?”
Harm studied Mac and the baby, “I don’t know…she just holds him.”
The doctor smiled, “Exactly, she cuddles him close and hugs him tight. That’s how he’s most comfortable. When you bounce or jiggle him, he gets over excited and he doesn’t know how to calm himself back down. When I was doing my exam, did you notice that I startled him? When you startle a newborn, they have a normal neurological response called a ‘Moro Reflex.’ That means the baby’s arms open wide and then they bring them back to midline, as if they want to grab hold to something. In your little guy’s case, that normal reflex is exaggerated. He opens his arms, but then gets stuck in repetitive jerking movements as he comes back to midline. Think of it, like he has trouble reigning his motions back in. Harm, the same is true when you bounce or jiggle him. He can’t manage to get those rapid movements back under control.”
The physician pointed to Mac, “Now look at Mom, when she holds the baby, she keeps him close and tucks his arms and legs to his body. Little Horatio here, feels safe and secure in that position…Mac is actually helping him to maintain his state control. Does that make sense?”
Harm nodded, “Yeah, I see what you mean. We need to handle him slowly with calm and quiet movements.”
Dr. Joe nodded, “Exactly.”
Harm pointed a finger and laughed, “But we are not calling him Horatio!”
The pediatrician chuckled, “Hey, I needed a name and Baby Rabb wasn’t cutting it, anymore. Do you have any other questions about the prenatal drug exposure and it’s effects on Horatio?”
Mac chimed in, “Ah yeah, what will it mean long term? Is there a higher risk for mental retardation and learning problems?”
“Not really…it’s that old genes versus environment thing. The drugs cause the temporary problems that you’re experiencing now, but those improve over time. As for long-term developmental issues, those aren’t related to the prenatal exposures. The good randomized controlled studies, show these kids aren’t any different than their peers. The learning problems, if they exist, are due to genetic and environmental causes not the drugs. Since we don’t know about Horatio’s genetic potential, we’ll just have to concentrate on his environmental potential. With you and Harm as parents, I know he’ll get the best educational chances possible. And who knows, the experts are still debating which is more important…genetics versus environment…when it comes to intellectual potential. I say give Horatio the best you can…and love and nurture will most likely win out.”
Harm exhaled loudly, “Thanks Doc, that’s just what we wanted to hear. We’ll make sure he gets what he needs. Do you recommend any special learning programs?”
“Nah, he’s too young at this point. Let’s just see how he develops. We’ll track all of his major milestones; and if I see any delays, I’ll make a referral then. Any other questions?” Harm and Mac both shook their head ‘no’. “Alright, let’s talk about normal baby stuff. His birth date near as we can figure was September 16th and his birth weight was 7 pounds 10 ounces. Today, he weighs 8 pounds…so, he’s regained his birth weight and then some…that’s just what I want to see. Any problems with feedings?”
Harm jumped in, “Yes, he eats a lot and all the time. He’d never stop if we let him.”
“Well, newborns do tend to eat a lot…every 2 to 3 hours is pretty normal. How much is Horatio eating?”
“Ah, let’s see,” Mac did the calculations in her head, “…he takes 5 to 6 ounces every 2 hours or so.”
Dr. Joe’s eyebrows rose, “I bet he has a lot of loose stools.”
Harm vigorously nodded, “Oh yeah, I think we own stock in Pampers by now…if he’s not eating then he’s pooping…or doing both at the same time.”
“Alright, here is what’s going on folks. For babies, sucking is a comforting behavior…it makes them feel good, whether they get food or not. Horatio is overfeeding because it calms him. He wants to suck, but he’s not necessarily hungry. He should be taking about 3 ounces every 2-1/2 to 3 hours, so you need to cut him back.”
Harm’s frustration shone through, “But what if he keeps crying?”
The pediatrician waved him down, “You give him other avenues to utilize the soothing behavior of sucking. Have you tried a pacifier?”
Harm rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh. Mac chuckled, “Daddy bought the store out, but junior’s not interested.”
Dr. Joe opened the sample drawer and pulled a wrapped pacifier, “Here, why don’t you try this one. This is the kind we use in the NICU. It’s from a company, called Children’s Medical Ventures; they specialize in products for premature and sick infants. The pacifier is called a Soothie, and the design is in compliance with American Academy of Pediatrics guidelines.” He unwrapped the pacifier, “You want to make sure that the pacifier is formed in one solid piece, so the components can’t come apart when the baby is sucking. There have been reports of babies aspirating the end of a pacifier when it falls apart.”
Harm glanced down at the baseball pacifier he’d dropped earlier and kicked the damning evidence further under the desk. Taking the pastel green device offered by the physician, Harm studied the design. “It’s made from silicone instead of latex, and they impregnate the silicone with vanilla…the kids seem to like the taste. In fact,” the physician mused, “…if little Horatio likes that particular brand, I recommend you go on line and buy a dozen. Once the kids get used to them, they won’t take anything else…and they’re not sold in stores. You wouldn’t believe how many parents call the NICU in a panic at 2 a.m. when they can’t find the pacifier.”
The baby began to stir in Mac’s arms, so Harm reached for his son. Cuddling him in his arms, he tried the new sucking-device and Baby Rabb took it without complaint. Daddy sighed in relief, “Yes, it works…how do I get more of these?”
The physician handed them a brochure on the company, “They sell a few of their products, including the Soothies, on-line. Now as I said, I want you to cut back his feedings to about 3 ounces every 3 hours. In between using the pacifier, or in a pinch, your finger to allow Horatio to soothe himself. I’m also going to switch him to a soy formula. The soy products are lactose-free, and it’s the lactose that’s causing the diarrhea. Mister Rabb is eating so much sugar that his intestine can’t manage to break it all down. Prosobee,” he handed Mac a sample can, “…contains glucose instead of lactose, he can eat more of this formula without getting himself in trouble. It should help relief the diarrhea.”
The doctor stood up and prepared to leave, “Alright, that’s a lot to absorb on a first visit, do you have anymore questions.”
The duo expressions of overwhelmed shock said ‘no’, even before the simultaneous, “That’s enough information for today,” rang out.
***
21:45
Sunday
27 September 2009
The Rabb Home
La Jolla, California
Two nights later, Mac sat reading in bed while Harm tried to calm the squealing beast inside his son. Reverting back to old behavior when the pacifier failed, he bounced the infant in his arms.
Mac looked up from her paperwork, “Harm, that doesn’t work…quiet slow movements, remember?”
He glared back at her, “I tried that Mac, it didn’t work…neither did the pacifier or rocking him gently against my chest. He’s not due to eat for another 2 hours…AND before you ask, he’s clean and dry.”
She pondered for a moment, “Take all his clothes off…sleeper, onesie, everything but his diaper.”
He gawked back at her like she’d lost her mind, “Won’t he catch cold?” His eyes grew with suspicion when she removed her own nightshirt, leaving her naked from the waist up. “Ah Mac, what’cha doing?”
“Harm, take off his clothes like I asked.”
He began to comply with wary reservation. “Sweetheart, what’s going on? You know you can’t breastfeed or anything, right? It doesn’t work that way.”
She rolled her eyes and reached for the nearly naked infant, “I was doing some research on the internet.” She settled the baby, face down, skin to skin against her chest. “Anyway, that Children’s Medical Venture site that sells the pacifier…they have all this documentation on handling premature and sick babies. I read what they posted and linked into some additional sites. Babies who are stressed and prone to over-stimulation, tend to relax and feel more secure when they’re held skin to skin. They call it ‘Kangaroo Care’ and all the NICUs utilize it as a way for parents to bond with and calm their sick babies.” Her words grew quieter with each sentence, ending in a whisper, as she gazed at her now sleeping son. The baby had wiggled himself until he was lying up against her heart and collapsed in exhaustion. She looked at Harm and whispered, “It worked.” Shivering in the cool night air, she pulled the blanket up around the both of them and reclined to enjoy the moment of silence.
Harm sat mesmerized, watching his wife, “Did you save the web sites so I can read them?”
She smiled and handed him her paperwork, “I printed out the articles so you could study them too.” When he leaned back in bed to begin reading, she interrupted him once more. “Connor Jefferson.”
He stared back puzzled, “What?”
“His name,” she stroked her finger over the baby’s dark hair, “…Connor Jefferson Rabb. Connor means ‘strong willed and much wanted’. I think it describes his current personality. Jefferson means ‘peace’…that’s what I hope he finds.”
He tipped his head and considered the name, “Connor Jefferson Rabb, I like it. It suits him…strong, wanted and eventually peaceful. It’s perfect, Mac.” He grinned, “Now we just have to convince the boss, His Royal Highness, Benjamin Carter Rabb.”
***
The convincing proved to be easier than expected over breakfast the following morning. Ben considered his brother’s new name, “Connor Jeffrasin?”
Mac giggled, “Connor Jefferson Rabb…what do you think, Ben? Is that a good name for the baby?”
The younger Rabb rolled his eyes and chewed his lip, “Connor souwns wike Carter…wike my name.”
Mac pushed his cereal bowl back from its precarious position on the edge of the table. “Yeah, it kinda does…Connor and Carter…what do you think?”
Ben grinned, “I wike it…Baby Conner and Big Brover Ben.”
Harm picked up his older son and swung him around in the air, “My Rabb boys, Ben and Conner.”
He blew raspberries on the little boy’s cheek. To Ben’s squeals of laughter, “No Daddy…stoooop!”
Harm hugged Ben to him, “Ben, do you think Connor would like raspberry kisses?”
The little one’s eyes grew wide, “Nooo Daddee…Connor will cry.” He placed his index finger to his lips, “Mama says to be qwiet and carewful…no woud noises.”
Mac chuckled, “You tell him, Ben.”
***
The Rabb family finally settled down to some semblance of normality. Connor continued to be temperamental, but they’d discovered the secret to calm the salvage beast. Connor loved to be skin to skin. While this was fairly easy to manage at home, outings on the town proved to be adventuresome. His parents learned to wear button-up shirts and invariably Little Prince Connor was found hiding under one of them. Evie had even helped Mac to design a sari of sorts from colorful fabric to strap Connor safely to his Mother’s chest.
At bedtime, one or the other would hold the wee one until he fell asleep. His tiny fingers rooted in the hair at the back Mama’s neck or on Daddy’s chest.
The holidays passed without incident. Mattie met her new baby brother and Conner found a soulmate in his not quite perfect big sister. Everyone was content and happy until a dark rainy day in the middle of March.
***
14:30
Wednesday
17 March 2010
The Noah’s Ark Child Advocacy Firm
San Diego, California
Mac was busy on the computer when a knock at her door roused her attention. Josephine Vaughn entered the office with a look of trepidation on her face. Mac tensed immediately, “Josephine, what brings you here…I didn’t see your name in my appointment book?
The caseworker pointed at a chair in front of the desk, “Mind if I take a seat?” Mac shook her head, unable to speak as the sense of dread built in chest. “I ah…I have some news about Connor. Maybe Harm can join us?”
Mac lifted the receiver to her ear and pushed the necessary buttons. He answered on the third ring, “Harmon Rabb, may I help you?” She sat silently, willing herself to find her voice. “Hello…hello…can I help you?”
“Harm,” came the soft emotional reply.
“Mac? Mac, what’s wrong?”
“Can you,” she paused to clear her voice, “…can you come to my office.”
“Sweetheart, I’m kind of tied up right now. Can this wait 20 minutes?”
“You need to come now,” the tears now evident in her voice, “Josephine’s here…it’s about Connor.”
“Be right there,” was the hurried response as the receiver hit the desk.
Harm entered the office and came to stand behind Mac. Noting his wife’s emotional duress, he stared at CPS worker, “Josephine, what brings you by?”
“I thought we could sit and talk for a moment,” the caseworker fidgeted. “Well, I guess I best get to the heart of the matter. A man showed up at CPS a couple of weeks ago claiming to be Connor’s father. We had a DNA sample obtained from Connor when he was hospitalized in the NICU. We tested it against a sample from this man…and it matched.”
Mac gasped and sniffed back tears. Harm’s posture grew rigid, “They don’t have that right anymore. Under California law, the mother has 14 days to change her mind, after that it’s irrevocable.”
Josephine nodded her head, “Yes, in most cases that’s true. But Mr. Smith, let’s call him for the purposes of discussion…he’s hired an attorney to fight the time constraints of the law. He’s sworn that he didn’t know he was Connor’s father until recently; and as such, he didn’t have the chance to make a paternity claim on the boy.”
Mac could no longer restrain the tears that now flowed freely down her face, “They can’t take him away from us…not now…not after all this time.”
Josephine attempted to placate the situation, “First of all, there’s no precedent for Mr. Smith’s petition to regain custody under The Safely Surrendered Law. The judge in the case as agreed for the department to do a thorough investigation of Mr. Smith; and from what I’ve seen, he doesn’t have much of a chance.”
Harm relaxed as the tension eased with the last statement, “What do mean…doesn’t have a chance?”
“I can’t go into all the details, but Mr. Smith has a rather sordid past…including arrests, other abandoned children. I think he’s just out to get money from the state, and he has one of those slick oily attorneys supporting him.”
Mac inhaled a deep breath and wiped away her tears, “What do we do now, Josephine?”
The social worker smiled tentatively, like a kid about to ask their parent for a wish they know there was no chance in hell of achieving. “I have an idea for how to move this procedure along.”
Harm frowned, “I’m listening.”
Josephine shifted in her chair, “While we’re doing the background work, I suggest we let Mr. Smith meet his son.”
Harm barked, “Are you crazy? There’s no way I want my son around that creep.”
“Just hear me out guys. The fella has absolutely no patience for a baby like Connor. I suspect, if we let them meet, Mr. Smith will at the least show his true colors and more probably run screaming from the room.”
Mac’s voice cracked, “You want to give him the chance to hurt my baby?”
The caseworker interrupted, “No, no, no, the meeting will take place at the department and I’ll be in the room to monitor the situation. There’s no way we’ll let him hurt Connor, but I suspect with Connor’s predisposition to fits of inconsolable irritability…Mr. Smith will run screaming from the room. What do you say? The faster I can show he’s unsuitable…the faster the judge will terminate paternal rights.”
Harm massaged the back of Mac’s shoulders, while they carried out one of their infamous silent conversations, “Josephine, we’d like to discuss this between the two of us, but we’re inclined to go along with your plan. We’ll let you know by tomorrow.”
***
15:30
Tuesday
22 March 2010
Department of Children’s Services
San Diego, California
Mac sat at the table in a small visitation room of The Department of Children’s Services. She nervously picked at her nail as she prayed for the safety of her son.
Harm paced the length of the small-enclosed room, huffing his breath with each turn for the round trip. He glared at the door, willing it to open and return his son to his waiting arms. Looking around the four plain walls, he made a mental note that he preferred rooms with windows and light and a view to escape to the outside.
She looked up as he lapped the room for the fiftieth or sixtieth time, “Harm, can’t you sit down…your pacing is driving me crazy.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face, “I can’t Mac…I’m too nervous. I like being in control; the one of action…I hate being the passive participant.”
At that moment, they heard a voice shout, “Leave me alone…I just want to get out of here.” A door slammed in the distance, and then they heard their child’s cry.
Mac jumped for the door, “Harm, that’s Connor.”
He came up behind her, “I swear if that piece of scum hurt my son…I’ll…” he paused as the cries grew louder.
Josephine entered the room with a red-faced squawking babe. Mac pushed forward to take Connor into her arms. Josephine soothed, “There, there little one…Mama and Daddy are here.”
Mac cradled him close as the cries continued. She tried his pacifier and a bottle but nothing calmed the hysterical tot. Harm nervously hovered, “What did he do to him?”
The caseworker shook her head, “Nothing, I was next to Connor the whole time. Mr. Smith didn’t know how to handle a baby, so I wouldn’t let him get an arm’s length away. Connor, bless his little heart, put on the performance of his lifetime. Mr. Smith had no idea how to deal with a crying infant. He stood up to shake the baby, but I grabbed Connor away before he could act.”
Mac nestled the infant to her chest and cooed into his ear, “It’s OK baby; Mama’s here.” Connor wiggled and snatched at her blouse with his tiny hand trying to find a way through the impediment.
When his son continued to scream, Harm glared at Josephine, “Are you sure, he didn’t do anything to my son?”
“No, I promise, Connor wasn’t harmed. I think he’s just reacting to the stress of the situation.” She smiled like a Cheshire cat and held up a document, “Mr. Smith signed over his paternal rights.” At Harm’s questioning expression, she explained, “I threatened to charge him with intent to harm a minor and he caved like a house of cards.” She shrugged, “I think he was just looking for a way to get out this mess. He fled the room as soon as he signed.”
Mac looked up hopeful, “So, it’s over…there’s no one left to fight the adoption.”
Josephine grinned, “Nope, I expect the court’s final decree in the next 3 to 6 months. Connor Jefferson Rabb is all yours.”
Harm wanted to shout for joy, but settled for a handshake and a hug, “Thanks Josephine…as bad as the last few days were, at least we’re through. I wasn’t sure about your suggestion, but you know your clients…I’ll give you that.”
Connor’s wails grew more desperate. Josephine turned to leave, “You can stay in this room until you get him back under control. I’ll be in touch with the paperwork.”
Mac waved goodbye and shifted the baby once again. Conner reached his hand inside the collar of her shirt and rubbed his face against her neck. She sighed in frustration, “Harm, do you want to take him?”
His eyes widened, “But Mac, he always settles better for you.”
She looked on with pleading eyes, “Sailor, I can’t exactly strip off my blouse for him here. You can open your shirt and let him snuggle with you.”
He released his buttons, while Mac removed Connor’s shirt. Harm reached for the baby, “Come here little man, Daddy’s got you.”
Connor sighed on contact with his father’s chest and maneuvered his head around until he heard Daddy’s heartbeat. The cries quieted to be replaced by deep shuddering breaths, as tiny fingers raked through chest hair. The two adults breathed a sigh of relief at the completion of their journey; their son was home.
Ten minutes later, Harm attempted the place Connor in his car seat. The baby stirred and whimpered at the movement. Harm shrugged his shoulders at Mac, “What do we do? We can’t drive home like this?”
She rubbed a finger over the baby’s cheek and chuckled at the little smile that resulted from the gesture. Well Sailor, we can’t sit in this room all night and they’re going to close the building down soon. How about we pack up and move to that specialty coffee place down the block?”
Harm looked down at his and Conner’s naked chest, “What am I supposed to do about this?”
She grinned and reached up to run her fingers through his hair, “I don’t see the problem…my two guys have beautiful chests.”
He rolled his eyes, “I didn’t figure you’d want to share me with all of San Diego; besides it’s March, don’t you think we’ll get a little cold?”
“No problem,” she secured the bottom half of the buttons around the baby and reached for his blanket. “We’ll just tuck this blanket around the two of you for now. You’ll keep him warm with your infamous ‘shared body heat.’
He shook his head and chuckled at the return of an old phrase, “OK, but you get to order at the coffee shop. Connor and I are going to find a place in the corner to hide.”
***
They entered the coffee shop twenty minutes later; Conner still blissfully asleep, having worn himself out from his earlier performance. Harm spied a table against a back wall tucked into the shadows of the early evening light. He settled in the chair furthest from the noise of the other patrons and relaxed for the first time in a week. He closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of contentment.
Mac brushed her finger against his cheek to rouse him, “Hey Sailor, looks like Conner’s not the only one that’s exhausted.” She handed him his coffee, “I think you’ll need the caffeine if you’re going to make it home tonight.”
He gave her a sleepy smile that reflected absolute peace and joy, “Thanks Mac, I think I’m finally letting go after the rollercoaster of events we’ve lived this last week. I’m not sure I’ve slept more than a couple of hours a night.”
She nuzzled her head against his arm, “I know what you mean. I think blissful slumber will come easy tonight.” She paused in contemplation, “I was so scared, Harm. I don’t think I would have survived if they took him away from us. I need all of my family…you, Ben and Connor…to feel alive.”
He kissed the top of her head, “It’s alright, sweetheart. We’re all here…your Rabb guys aren’t going anywhere.”
They sat in silence watching the sun set, the people scurry home, and the beginning of dusk…and whispered a prayer of joyous thanks for protection of their son and the preservation of their family.
***
18:30
Friday
2 July 2010
The Burnett Home
La Jolla, California
“Mom, are you sure about this…I mean the boys can be a handful?” Harm’s expression was wary as he unloaded the overnight bags and the portable crib.
Trish waved a dismissive hand, “We’ll be fine. Besides, Mattie and Frank are here to help. I think we can handle two little boys.”
“But Mom….”
“Harmon, you act like I’ve never taken care of a child before. I think I did a pretty good job of raising you.” She tapped her foot against the floor, “When was the last time you took your wife out for a quiet adult evening?”
He ducked his eyes to the floor and muttered, “I don’t know.”
Trish sighed in exasperation, “Well, if you can’t even remember then you’re long overdue. Now put that stuff in the kitchen and go romance your wife. I don’t expect to see the whites of your eyes until at least noon tomorrow.” She grinned mischievously and shook a finger, “And ‘said’ eyes better look radiant with satisfaction.”
He stood stunned with mouth agape before coughing out, “Mom, please…I…we….”
Trish laughed at his embarrassment, “Oh for heaven sake Harm, I may be a Grandmother, but I’m not dead. Now go enjoy your wife!”
***
22:00
Saturday
3 July 2010
Evie’s Bistro
La Jolla, California
The happy couple sat in a quiet secluded table in the corner of the bistro, enjoying a dinner free from whining and crying and food fights. Harm studied his wife with an appreciative eye, drinking in her beauty as it was illuminated by the candlelight’s soft reflection. As he considered her face, he thought she looked more beautiful now than she had 14 years ago in a rose garden. How was it that she’d grown younger and more vibrant with age?
She reached out to stroke his hand, “Hey Sailor, where’d you go? You’re awfully quiet?”
He shook away the fog and smiled, “Just thinking about how lucky I am.” He picked up her hand and kissed the back of her wrist, “This is nice…do you remember the last time we went out alone?”
She considered the question a moment then shook her head, “You know I really can’t. I know it was before we got Connor. What is that…over ten months, at least?”
He tugged on her hand, drawing her closer to him. Leaning in he placed a sweet kiss on her lips, “We shouldn’t wait so long next time.”
She caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers and leaned in for a second more lingering light touch, nibbling at his bottom lip. The sound of a clearing throat forced the kiss to an end. Looking a bit sheepish as being caught, they fell into the dancing eyes of their very own cupid sprite. “Hey Evie,” Harm grinned.
The older woman’s eyes sparkled with delight, “Trish told me the two of you were finally getting out for a night on the town.”
Mac’s expression slipped just a touch, “We weren’t to sure about leaving the boys…Connor still has trouble when he’s away from home.”
Evie waved a hand in the air, “The wee ones will be just fine with their Gummy Trish. Trust me, they’ll appreciate a Mom and Dad who are refreshed and content. The kids can sense those things…I should know, I raised six of my own.” She leaned closer to the table and whispered, “Besides, how do you think my husband and I got those six kids?” She laughed at their shocked expression, “I may be a Great Grandmother, but I’m not dead you know.”
Harm chuckled, “Did you and my Mom rehearse that speech? Because I’ve already heard it once tonight?”
She gave them a sly wink, “I’ll never tell my secrets…us mothers and grandmothers have to stick together. Now what dessert can I fix for you tonight…it’s on the house.”
He demurred to his wife, “Mac, what do you want?”
She rolled her eyes considering the delicacies, “Mmmm, chocolate mousse I think…with two spoons.”
Evie chuckled, “You know you can have two desserts…it’s not like you’re going to break the house.”
Mac shook her head, “No, one is enough…it’s more fun to share.” Under the cover of the table, her hand ran up her husband’s thigh.
Harm jumped at the contact and croaked back, “One will be fine.”
Evie threw him a puzzled look, “Something wrong Harmon?”
He grabbed his wife’s hand to stop the advance, “No, I’m fine…just thinking about enjoying my dessert.”
Mac turned her head to the side with a sly grin and whispered into his ear, “And which dessert would that be…the one now…or the one later?”
His hand did some covert maneuvering of its own, as he whispered, “Later…definitely later.”
Evie shook her head, “I’ll get that dessert right out here, before the two of you embarrass yourselves and everyone around you.” A few steps from the table, she turned back, “And I’ll be sure to let Trish know to expect that satisfied gleam.”
He ducked his now blushing face into Mac’s neck. She ran her fingers through the hair at the back of neck and whispered, “What was that all about?”
He muttered, “Never mind, I’ll explain later.”
They enjoyed sharing spoonfuls of the decadent chocolate delight. When Mac licked the final dollop from the spoon; his eyes dilated at the seductive gesture. Throwing a wad of cash down on the table, he reached for her hand and tugged her toward the door. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’m ready for the second course of dessert.”
***
14:25
Friday
20 August 2010
San Diego Court House
Judge Michaelson cleared his throat to gain everyone’s attention, “Alright, shall we get started?”
Harm couldn’t suppress the smile of satisfaction and pride at the momentous events of the day, “Yes Sir, we’re all here.” He pulled Mac closer to his side and encircled her and his newest son in his arms.
Mattie sat a few feet away with Ben perched in her lap. Trish, Frank and Evie stood behind her wheelchair, each smiling with joy as the final legal document was signed declaring Connor Jefferson Rabb as their second grandson.
The judge addressed the small crowd, “You know folks, it’s days like this that make my appointment to the bench all the more worthwhile. I’m pleased to decree that this court recognizes Connor Jefferson Rabb as the legal son of Harmon and Sarah Rabb. As such….”
Mac leaned over to Harm and whispered for him to take the baby. As he reached for Connor, she began swaying on her feet. Harm grabbed for her arm and immediately noticed her ashen face, “Mac…Sarah, what’s wrong?”
She mumbled in a stilted voice, “Feel funny…need to…sit…dow….” She collapsed to floor before finishing the sentence.
Harm passed the baby off to Trish and kneeled beside his wife, “Mac? Mac, are you alright…talk to me, sweetheart?” He looked up in a panic, “She’s unconscious…someone call 911!”