FanStory.com - Miracles - Chap 22by Begin Again

Eleanor attempted a grin. "Two of you? Now, that might be more than the world can handle." She turned her focus back to the window but continued talking. "Was that Tango on the phone?"

"Yeah, the interrogators have made a little headway with William, but so far, Bruiser isn't giving anything up."

"He will. He struck me as the bully who's tough until the going gets rough. Any man who takes his vengeance out on an innocent young woman doesn't have much of a backbone."

"Have you heard from Danni? Did she get Crystal settled?"

"When I called to tell her about the accident, she said Crystal was at a safe house and she'd connected with an old friend. Made the transition a little easier."

"That's good. I'm sure she was happy that Danni and you were there to rescue her." Garth chuckled. "Well, Danni did the rescuing while you were having fun. A bar fight, Eleanor? What were you thinking?"

"We needed information. While they tore the place apart, I could check it out. I forgot to mention, I followed Tony into his office."

"Did you see Rossi or Maxwell?"

"No, but you had the building surrounded so that it would be my guess there's a secret passage somewhere."

"I'd say that's probably a good guess. It's the only way they could have slipped through our net."

"I did see Tony with two of my paintings."

"Yours? I thought we rounded all those up when we arrested Doyle the first time. Are they the forgeries?"

"They weren't forgeries. He was hiding them in a secret compartment. It was concealing quite the array of artillery, too. An entire wall of guns."

"Guess we'll need a search warrant." He rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Wonder how the paintings tie into Rossi? And Maxwell's involvement puts him on the wrong side of the law."

"Jenna and I were in the gallery last week, and I thought I saw someone, maybe William, with a similar painting as he entered the backroom. It breaks my heart because that means Jackson, the gallery owner, knows what's going on. Is he replacing the original paintings, like mine, with forgeries?"

"That was Doyle's plan. Guess being behind bars didn't stop him from carrying it out." Garth chose one of the chairs and made himself comfortable, his long legs sprawling across the floor.

"It's been five years. Why now?" Eleanor asked, returning to stare out the window.

"I'd say he needs the money. It must be costing him a chunk of change to carry out this revenge plan. A lot of people risking their freedom for him."

Eleanor closed her eyes and pressed her hand against the glass windowpane. "Garth, something's not right."

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes, like just before Margaret's accident, I get these strange vibes. Never anything specific unless something is about to happen right then. It's like a warning." Eleanor stood there for a few moments longer and then turned away. She shrugged. "It's gone now."

"Maybe it was just you worrying about the girls."

"No, this was something different. But speaking of Rebecca and Jenna, I wonder when we will get an update?"

As if responding to a request, the doors to the surgical area buzzed and opened, revealing a grim-faced doctor and Frankie approaching.

Frankie immediately reached out to shake Garth's hand and then wrapped his arms around Eleanor, whispering, "I'm sorry I didn't get to them in time."

"You couldn't have known. What's important is you got them to medical care as quickly as possible."

Frankie turned to the doctor. "My apologies. This is Dr. Treadwell. He was in charge of Rebecca's care."

Dr. Treadwell, a tall, forty-something redhead with wide-rimmed glasses, reached for Garth's hand and Eleanor's. "Rebecca is in recovery," he began. "She has a deep gash on her forehead that required stitches, some heavy bruising, and a hard bump to her head. We'll monitor her closely for a concussion, but for now, she's stable."

Eleanor released a long sigh. "What about Jenna?"

The doctor hesitated, glancing at Frankie before responding. "Jenna is undergoing emergency surgery — a C-section. The baby was in distress, and we had no other choice."

Eleanor gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "A C-section? But it's far too early! There's no way the baby will survive — Jenna's only —"

"The ultrasound shows the baby is about 28 weeks along," the doctor interrupted gently. "I understand that doesn't align with what we were told. She was attacked five months ago. Is there any chance she could've been involved with someone else?"

Eleanor's heart skipped. Could it be possible? Her mind raced to Matthew. Was there something deeper between him and Jenna? Could the child be his?

Garth cut in. "I'd like to see Rebecca," he said firmly. "Then I need to check in with Tango."

The doctor nodded and gestured down the hall. "She's awake, though still groggy. Room C." He pointed down the hall. "Just two doors down from the corner, near the atrium.

Garth hurried down the hall, stopping only for a moment to admire the beautiful atrium, and then disappeared around the corner, hesitating for a moment at the door labeled with a prominent C.

He tapped lightly and then opened the door, sticking his head inside. Rebecca lay on the hospital bed, the top of her head bandaged and her face pale. Her eyes fluttered open when he softly called her, "Rebecca."

"Howdy, Cowboy," she murmured, her voice husky.

A small smile tugged at Garth's lips as he eased into the chair beside her bed. For a moment, the world outside the room faded. "You gave us quite the scare," he said softly, his eyes searching hers.

Rebecca managed a faint grin. "Didn't mean to — but I knew you'd be around to save me."

The two shared a charged moment of quiet understanding, a spark of something unspoken beginning to take shape.

"How's Jenna? Is she alright?"

Garth nodded. "She's in surgery as we speak."

"Surgery? What happened?" Rebecca asked, and then her thoughts went to the baby. "Oh no, don't tell me she lost the baby. Poor Jenna."

"It's going to be touch and go, but they are delivering the baby by C-section."

"But Jenna said she was five months." Rebecca swallowed hard, struggling to say what she was thinking. "How —" Sadness filled her eyes. "How can the baby survive?"

"According to the doctors, the ultrasound indicates she was more like 28 weeks."

"Really? But the rape was —" Rebecca stopped midsentence. "That means the baby wasn't from the attack." She stared off into space and then turned wide-eyed to Garth. "Could it be Donatelli's baby?"

Garth shrugged. "Sorry, I don't know anything about our boy's sex life." And then, in stupid man humor, he added, "Neither does he at the moment."

"Garth!" Rebecca scolded, but a grin twitched at the corner of her mouth.

He smiled at her and then stood. "The sign says only five minutes, so I'm going to let you get some rest. I've got to make some calls anyhow."

Rebecca attempted a pout. "Don't go. I'm afraid of the bogeyman?"

"Girl, you entered an abandoned house declared to be haunted, and you ran off two men while allowing our resident ghost to torment them. I don't think you're afraid of the bogeyman."

"That's not fair. Eleanor's too lovely to be a scary ghost."

"Trust me, she's given a few men some mean nightmares." Garth laughed. "Including me when I get out of line."

She reached out her hand to touch him, and he spontaneously caught it and brought it to his lips, softly brushing her fingers with a kiss. He hesitated momentarily, unsure if he'd crossed a line, but the warmth in her gaze reassured him. Something unspoken passed between them, a connection he hadn't expected but couldn't deny. Catching his breath, he whispered, "You get some rest. I'll be back."

*****

Waiting for word on Jenna, Eleanor wandered into the atrium. It was like nothing she'd ever seen before. A waterfall cascaded from one corner, surrounded by tropical foliage. Several smaller fountains were focal points of lush greenery and colorful flowers, almost creating yards of rainbows. Butterflies fluttered freely from flower to flower, and chirping birds gathered in the blossoming trees.

She chose a comfortable bench near the waterfall and let her mind drift, remembering the first time she'd held Jenna in her arms. It was the most incredible feeling she'd ever imagined, and she prayed Jenna would feel the same.

Eleanor's daydreaming ended abruptly as a dark cloud filled her mind, and an icy chill touched her. The vibes were much stronger this time. She hurried from the atrium toward Room C, calling Garth's name. "Garth! Garth!"

As Garth left Rebecca, he heard Eleanor's frantic call and rushed toward her. "Eleanor, what's wrong? Is it Jenna?"

"No, I've not heard about Jenna."

"Then what is it? What's got you so worked up?"

"We've got to tell Frankie. He needs to know that Rossi is coming, and he's not alone."

"Calm down, Eleanor. What makes you think he's coming?"

"Vibes! I can feel the evil vibes." Her eyes were wide as she stared at Garth. "If you've ever trusted me, now isn't the time to have doubts. We've got to tell Frankie."

"Okay, I believe you. Come on. He's probably in his office with Sammy."

Eleanor barely had time to breathe as the alarms blared through the hospital like a siren's wail. Red emergency lights spun wildly, casting frantic shadows across the walls. The steel shutters slammed into place over the windows, each metallic thud echoing like a judge's gavel in a courtroom.

"What's happening now?" Eleanor gasped, clutching Garth's arm. Her heart raced. For a moment, she forgot the child waiting to meet the world. "We're too late!"

Sam opened the office door as Eleanor and Garth approached, waving for them to enter. Frankie's phone buzzed urgently. He answered, his expression darkening as a familiar voice snarled on the other end.

"I'm here for Donatelli," Rossi said, his tone laced with venom.

Frankie's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at Eleanor and Garth. "Not without a fight," he snapped, slamming the phone down. He barked orders into a walkie-talkie; his tone was as sharp as the alarms. "Lock it down! Rossi's not stepping past that gate unless I say so."

Unexpectedly, there was a knock at the door. Every head in the room turned as the door swung open. The doctor entered, disheveled, his scrubs speckled with sweat and blood. His face, however, brought something rare to the current turmoil — a smile.

"Congratulations!" the doctor announced, loud enough to cut through the alarms. His gaze fell on Eleanor. "You're the proud grandmother of a beautiful baby girl!"

Garth stared at the doctor, blinking. "A girl?" he whispered as if trying to confirm it wasn't a trick of the noise.

"She's tiny," the doctor continued, his tone softening, "but strong. She was born at 2.45 pounds. She's in the NICU now, and the team is doing everything to stabilize her. Eleanor, your daughter is doing fine as well. She said to tell you that she's naming our little bundle Margaret Eleanor, or Maggie for short."

Eleanor felt her knees weaken, and Garth instinctively wrapped an arm around her. Her heart swelled with emotion, pushing out the panic from moments before.

"Margaret," Eleanor said softly, her voice trembling. "Her name is Margaret Eleanor."

The doctor nodded, but his expression grew serious. "There's one thing. The baby is anemic and needs a blood transfusion urgently."

Garth held out his arm. "She can have my blood."

Sam followed suit. "Or mine."

The doctor wrinkled his face. "I wish it were that easy, guys. But our little lady needs AB negative, and we're short. Normally, I'd call it in, and the supply truck would drop it off. But with our guests out front, that won't happen."

"There's always the chopper. I can order the crew to get it up and ready. Where's the closest place?"

Sam's brain was like a filing cabinet of information. He immediately remembered seeing something familiar earlier. Snapping his fingers, he said, "I've got it. I saw AB negative on a patient chart earlier." He darted to a pile of papers on Frankie's desk, flipping through them rapidly. Then he stopped, his finger tracing the name at the top of the chart.

"Did you find it, Sam?" Frank asked, still holding the phone in his hand.

He nodded at his boss, then looked up from the papers. "It's Donatelli, sir."

Eleanor gasped. 'Donatelli has the same blood type as the baby?' Her eyes met Garth's, a flicker of recognition in her expression. "Do you think?" She stammered. "Could Matthew be — the father?"