Thursday, January 24, 2019

Cry From The Grave (Chapter 51)

Cry From The Grave
Chapter 51

     Hastily planned dinners were not normally the stuff of celebration, but Martin and Marie Ballack insisted the entire team come over for dinner that evening. Marie provided a Bavarian pork loin complete with dumplings, carrots, onions, and apples.  She and Martin dodged around each other in the kitchen all through the late afternoon as he helped with the pumpernickel bread while also mixing an authentic German chocolate cake for dessert. Tori and a very slow-moving Paula arrived about five-thirty, while Crabolli ran late. But they soon discovered the ponderance was for good reason. She had picked up Hull, just released from the hospital and who was eager to have a home-cooked meal.
     The victuals were delicious and satisfying, the conversation light-hearted and enjoyable, and the beer cold.
     "You're going to be okay with this being your first meal back?" Martin asked Hull.
     "You'd have to shoot me again to keep me out," laughed Hull, "and seeing how we're nowhere near Innsbrook, I'd say we're safe."
     Paula Vaughan kept up with the conversation during the meal, but she excused herself to go to the bathroom just as Marie distributed generous slices of cake with scoops of ice cream around the table.
     "She misses Jill," Tori said thoughtfully regarding her daughter, as if to no one in particular.
     Marie passed her a fork. "Well, Jill comes home this weekend from her western swing. I'll make sure I tell her that." Tori's daughter and Ballack's sister had become good friends over the summer in the midst of their separate crises.
     "When exactly is Paula due again?" asked Crabolli, her mouth surrounding a spoonful of ice cream.
     "Any day now," replied Tori, "which is the same as last week. Just as long as it doesn't hap..."
     A crash and a bleat of agony sounded from the hall bathroom. White-faced, Tori leaped into the front hall from the dining room and sprinted around the corner toward the sound. Marie followed her, telling her husband, "Get ready to go if it's the real thing."
     "All the better," mumbled Hull out of his insanely full mouth. "I've missed the excitement."
     "We can't leave the ice cream out, dear!" Martin groaned.
     Ballack had left the table with his dessert and wheeled himself into the front hall when he heard Tori scream, "Her water broke!"
      Marie came running out. "Martin! Everyone! Let's get them out of here! I'll get the towels and go with them! You follow."
     "Right after we salvage this ice cream and put it away," Martin yelled as he searched for the keys to their Honda Odyssey. "Where are we headed?"
     "Progress West!" barked Tori from the bathroom, earning a heavy sigh from the Ballack patriarch. "And Martin, don't go wandering off! I need you to help get Paula off the ground in here!"
     Crabolli, Hull, and Ballack gathered in the kitchen as Martin blazed a trail into the hall bath and Marie rushed around.
     "Mom, I can go with Dad in the Honda if you go with them. Missy and Zane can come with us."
     "That's fine," gasped Marie. "I'll grab Tori's keys and start her car. Call Eddie, also."
     There came a crash from the bathroom, followed by a loud and painful curse from Martin.
     "You okay?" said Crabolli, running to the bathroom and peeking in around Tori.
     "I'm fine," howled Martin. "I just slipped and landed on my rear end helping Paula up. My hand got mashed under my body weight."
     "My water broke!" wailed Paula. "What do you expect?"
     "That was no break," Martin grumbled. "That was an explosion. It's like Lake Huron in there. Let's get moving. Cameron, down the ramp and open the car and direct Missy and Zane how to lock you down. I'll help get Paula out there and then we'll follow them." He tossed the keys to Ballack, who noticed his father's index finger was bent at a slight angle.
     "Oh, heaven help me," sighed Tori as Marie and Martin ushered Paula toward the garage door ramp. "I'm going to be a grandmother."

"You know, the sad thing is that we never stopped off for cigars," joked Ballack as they passed time in the waiting room outside the hospital's birthing area.
     "The sad thing is actually trying to play poker with a dislocated finger," replied Martin. "It changes the whole approach to the game. At least someone had the sense to bring the cards and copper." He threw seven pennies on the table. "That's my two and I raise five."
     "I'll see that," said Hull, placing five pennies down, followed by Ballack and Crabolli. "Missy's calling? Okay, I have two sixes and two kings."
     "I have three of a kind," Ballack said hopefully, showing off his triad of fours.
     "Full house, jacks high!" Missy Crabolli triumphantly whooped.
     "And all of you just went down in flames," Martin announced, "because I have four of a kind!" He slapped his cards on the table.
     "That's a full house with eights high!" Crabolli protested.
     "Four eights!" Martin jokingly slapped her hand away. He pointed to the queen of spades. "We said before dealing the hand that the dirty lady was wild. That makes it four eights! I win."
     "No news? I swear," wondered Hull. "It's been two hours.
     "All the more reason why it was critical to salvage the ice cream," Martin deadpanned.
     "Zane, it's labor, you Neanderthal," Crabolli complained. "And it's Paula's first. It's a crapshoot."
     "That's true," said Martin. "From start of labor to delivery, Cameron held out for sixteen hours. All that time, and we ended up doing a C-section anyway."
     "Dad," warned Ballack.
     "I assume there's a story behind this?" Hull sat up, greatly intrigued.
     "Dad!" Ballack shot his father a dirty look.
     "The first case he couldn't solve," Martin chortled, "was how to get out of the womb. Cameron's head was positioned sideways instead of down, so he was trapped. Absolutely trapped."
    "Hilarious," Ballack muttered.
    Suddenly, Marie Ballack burst into the waiting room. "Sorry," she panted breathlessly. "But I wanted to make sure everything was okay! We're done! It's a girl!"
     The foursome exploded in cheers. Martin leaped toward his wife and embraced her, kissing her forehead.
     "Everyone okay?" he asked.
     "Fine, just fine. They are checking her out and Paula's in a maternity suite now. Tori and Eddie are with her. It's just off another hall. We can go back there, but Tori has to give the go-ahead if all of us can crowd in."
     "Go ahead," said Crabolli, pulling Hull back. "Martin and Cameron, go ahead with Marie. We'll wait."

"Details?" asked Martin as Ballack rolled next to them.
     "Nine pounds, one ounce. Exactly twenty and one-half inches long. Her hair is sandy and her eyes are ocean blue," said Marie. Stopping, she blinked her eyes and then collapsed into her husband's arms, weeping quietly.
     "I know, honey," Martin whispered. "Too many memories. But he's safe. He has been for some time." And nothing more was said.
     "Where is the room?" asked Ballack.
     "Right here, two doors down," Marie pointed as she wiped her eyes, and they entered the suite, decked with pink balloons and ribbons. "Once Eddie recovered from nearly fainting, he ran down to the gift shop and bought out the place."
     "There goes his paycheck," Martin sighed.
     Tori hugged all of them. "Where's Eddie?" asked Marie.
     "Out making calls to everyone and probably running out of time on his cell since he won't do unlimited minutes," Tori replied. Ballack looked at Paula, who held a small bundle wrapped in a cozy blanket.
     "Come here," she beckoned, and they all crept forward. The bundle squirmed and emitted a little cry.
     For minutes, no one spoke. There was no need for comment. All the danger and fear and evil of the past four days diffused away at the sight of the precious child before them. Marie bit her lip and smiled, Martin holding her hand. Ballack turned to Tori.
     "She looks like you, Granny," he said.
     Tori rolled her eyes. "She'd better. If she looked like Eddie, she won't have a prayer of true love."
     "Well," said Paula, free of both labor and the weight of a womb-enclosed cherub, "I wanted to let all of you know her name." Her strawberry blond hair had fallen around her shoulders, and a cow lick dangled into her eyes. "I don't know where Dad is, but he can always get the news later."
     Tori covered her chin with both hands.
     "Mom," Paula began, "I wanted to say this privately, but this will probably be the best moment I get. I want to thank you for being there for me. Not much about the last nine months was ideal, and I've been scared out of my mind for a while. And I know you worried about how responsible I could be and still couldn't stop giving me advice..."
     "Oh, come on, baby," Tori wept. "This isn't making it any easier."
     "But Mom, here's the thing. You might have clashed with me, but at least you never rejected me. I couldn't count on my friends. I guess it's good Dad isn't here, because he wasn't one hundred percent dependable all the time, either. But for all the pain and all the arguments, you were always there."
     Tori didn't respond. She couldn't. The tears were flowing like a waterfall at flood stage.
     "And Marie," Paula continued, "you and your family have always been good to us. You always made food when we were pressed for time and you took me to more ultrasound and other OB appointments than I can count whenever Mom was swamped with work. You both have done so much for me, I'd like my daughter to have a part of you."
     No one moved.
     "So, I've decided to name her Victoria Marie."
     Ballack smiled. Whereas Beverly Overton's solo the day before had brought a shaft of hope, this was an explosion of joy. Tori hugged him and then turned to Ballack's father.
     "Martin," she said, "Could you pray a blessing over her? Our own priest will christen her, but I'd like to have this moment while we're all here. Could you do that?"
     Martin assented wordlessly, releasing Marie's hand. He drew beside the bed and leaned toward Victoria Marie's wriggling, exhausted body. Heads bowed around the bed as he murmured a brief prayer, placing his fingers on her forehead and making the sign of the cross.
     Ballack looked up and peered through the window, far into the distance of the overcast night. Amongst the clouds, he beheld the sacred imprint of this natal moment--a solitary and brightly twinkling star.


THE END

     Luke H. Davis is the author of Cry From The Grave, officially the fourth volume in the Cameron Ballack Mysteries. He is also the author of The Merivalkan Chronicles series of novels. He serves as Bible department chairman at Westminster Christian Academy in St. Louis. He lives in St. Charles, Missouri, with his wife Christy, son Joshua, daughter Lindsay, and their retriever Gretel.

Books by Luke H. Davis

Litany of Secrets
The Broken Cross
A Shattered Peace
Cry From The Grave
The Burning Glow (forthcoming)


in The Merivalkan Chronicles
Joel
Bjarna (forthcoming)
     

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