The Sea of Aaron (23 page)

Valerie looked at her with a dazed, puzzled expression. “Then who?”

“Maybe she was talking about your Heavenly Father.”

Five months later…

Downstairs in the large game room of his home, Noah, brandishing a cue stick, paced the floor while waiting for Aaron to make his shot. “If you accept that assignment, you're deliberately signing your death warrant,” he said curtly, struggling against the mounting urge to splinter the stick on his friend's hard head.

“Eight ball, bank shot. Number two in left pocket,” Aaron said, leaning forward, expertly positioning his cue stick. As he made the shot, the billiard balls clanked, scattered and dashed across the green felt table bed, all too eager to do their master's bidding.

Noah's eyes narrowed when the selected balls thudded into the targeted pockets.

“Very nice,” he said dryly.

“Figured you'd appreciate it.”

“I'd appreciate it even more if you'd start making sense. Tell your contact they need to find another way. Don't take that assignment, man.”

Aaron stroked the cue stick, his eyes still surveying the billiard table. “You don't even know what the assignment is.”

“I don't have to.
Yemen
sums it up in one word. Weren't three months in Nigeria enough for you? After you almost bought the ranch last January, I was under the impression that you were retiring from active duty. What are you trying to prove?”

“Prove?” Aaron smirked, glaring at Noah “I'm only doing what I've always done for years. This—”

“Is all about your wife,” Noah finished bluntly. He knew he'd struck a nerve when Aaron's direct gaze wavered. “That's right…Valerie, your pregnant wife.”

“You're wrong.” Aaron made a quick recovery. “First, I haven't even officially committed to the assignment, but should I accept, it will have very little to do with my
estranged
wife.”

“Very little to do? I heard that perfectly clear, man. What you
didn't
say was that she would have
nothing
to do with it. Ever since you two separated, you've been miserable…and worse…all this misery is totally unnecessary. You both still love each other. I mean, so what if you didn't want children? It happened. Get over it. Make some adjustments. I mean, I could understand if the baby wasn't yours.”

Aaron let the cue stick drop to the floor. “Noah, we run a business together, but my personal life is not open for discussion and it never has been.”

“In the past I've always respected your privacy, but right now your personal life is my business because it's affecting our business,” Noah snapped. “You're completely insane if you think your death will not impact Avian International adversely.”

Aaron chuckled sardonically. “You can find another partner and you know it. At this point, the company has taken on a life of its own and even its founders are expendable. There are several capable men who could carry on. Jake Marshall, Bill Hutchens, Craig Lawrence…shall I continue?”

“You're missing the point.” Noah reached out and gripped Aaron's shoulder. “They are good men, yes, but they're not you. This is, and was, our dream…the fruit of our collective labor, not theirs. You're family, man…my big brother. Why can't you understand that?”

Aaron backed away, pulled a cigarette pack from his pants pocket, and sank into a nearby chair. He'd hoped that distancing himself physically and emotionally from his wife would have the effect he wanted—that the separation would allow him to disconnect and accept that there would eventually be a termination of their relationship. But oddly enough, just the opposite was happening. He missed her even more. Never mind that she was openly defying him and, even worse, risking her own life. He wondered chillingly if a similar situation might have occurred in his father's life, culminating with his own birth and his mother's death. There was nothing more agonizing or frustrating than having foreknowledge of an event and being blocked in your effort to prevent history from repeating itself. He wished he could tell Noah the truth about his overblown childhood fears, but of the several languages he could speak, the language of emotion eluded him; the words did not exist in his vocabulary and he had no clue where to find them. Yet he was touched by Noah's open admission of their brotherly bond.

“Thought you quit smoking,” Noah said.

“I thought so, too.” He stared mockingly at the cigarette he'd extracted, remembering clearly the day in Belize when he'd promised Valerie he'd quit—the same day she'd agreed they'd have no children. His promise had been broken on his last week in Nigeria and he hadn't even realized the significance of it until this moment. Was he retaliating? If so, he knew he was only hurting himself, just like he was hurting from leaving her. Tempted to ignore the ramifications, he reached for a lighter but instead frowned in disgust, crammed the cigarette back into the pack, and tossed everything into the nearby trash container.

Noah leaned against the pool table, arms folded. “Can't imagine why you think being a parent is such an awful thing. In most cultures, children are considered a blessing. Hey, Jasmine and I have three kids now. They're all different, and, yeah, they're challenging sometimes, but I love them each as individuals, and they haven't cramped my lifestyle or changed who I am.”

“There's no comparison between us,” Aaron said. “I'm older than you, and I already have a grown son. By the time this one, Valerie's kid, reaches twenty, I'll be more like its grandfather.”

“That can't possibly be what you're really worried about,” Noah said suspiciously. “Guys much older than you have kids all the time.”

“Valerie's a fool for putting her life at risk to have this baby,” Aaron said.

“But she's doing fine. From what I've heard, she hasn't even had one major problem. In fact, Jasmine had more issues when she was expecting Jonathan. Don't tell me you haven't even spoken to her in all this time?”

Aaron studied the Tiffany lighting above the pool table. With literally oceans between them, he had spoken to his wife via phone exactly three times since they'd agreed to separate. Each time she'd told him, without bitterness, that she was doing okay, and then she'd wanted to know how he was. During their last conversation, she'd revealed that the baby was a girl, but other than that, their conversations had been perfunctory and succinct. But he was still surprised that she hadn't even alluded to divorce.

“We've spoken,” he said. “Not often, though. There isn't a lot to say at this point.”

“Aaron, get over it. You're the most determined, stand-up guy I've ever known. You've done things…risen to every challenge and made sacrifices that would leave most men quivering in the dust. It's bordering on lunacy that you're going to allow fear of a baby to—”

“I'm not afraid of a baby,” Aaron interrupted, unable to resist a smirk at the ludicrousness of the remark.

Noah chuckled, lightening the tension in the room. “Tell me about it. You won't even hold Jonathan.”

Aaron squinted. “And the reason for that is he'll start screaming. They all scream.”

“You're passing the buck. It's something you learn, like anything else. Valerie's going to have your baby soon. She needs you to be with her, not somewhere in Yemen getting your fool head blown off.”

Aaron stood up and reclaimed his cue stick. “You've made your point. Now shut up and let's get on with this game so I can finish beating the crap out of you.”

***

Valerie had known all along that she would be having a caesarean delivery because sonograms revealed that scar tissue was narrowing the birth canal. To try for a natural birth would endanger the baby. She knew all this, but she was thrown for a loop when her aunt accompanied her on her routine checkup and she was told that her blood pressure was spiking too high and they wanted to deliver the baby earlier than originally scheduled. They wanted to do it in five days. She was a little over eight months pregnant, and the early birth would make her daughter premature.

“I'm not sure I agree with them,” Valerie said on the ride back home. “My blood pressure tends to fluctuate anyway. It'll probably go back down.”

“You need to take their advice,” Marilyn said, focusing on the highway as she drove. “The baby is almost full term and she shouldn't have difficulties that can't be managed.”

“But nothing in my life is as it should be right now,” Valerie said, frustration welling. “I'd at least like for my daughter to have as perfect a start as possible.”

“Her perfect start will be entering the world and knowing she has a mother to love her,” Marilyn responded tersely.

Valerie glanced sideways at her aunt, catching the edge in her voice and realizing that she was worried. For the first time in months Aunt Marilyn was acknowledging the possibility that something could go wrong.

“Well, I'm certainly no pregnancy expert, so I guess I have no choice except to take the advice of those who are,” she said slowly.

Her aunt was worrying for nothing. Valerie didn't—couldn't even—imagine anything going wrong at this point. It was miraculous and traumatic enough that she'd conceived in the first place. Perhaps she was being irrational, maybe even a bit presumptuous, but she was sure that God wouldn't allow her to reach this point only to take away her and Aaron's daughter. And she was talking about her daughter. She'd long since stopped viewing the little girl growing inside her as a fetus, instead recognizing her as a full human being, whom she already adored. She pictured dark, wavy hair and maybe…who knows, maybe even indigo eyes like Aaron's. But it didn't really matter what their daughter looked like; she just knew that she'd be beautiful, and every time she felt the baby move, she thanked God for His unexpected gift.

The holiday season had come and gone. Denise and Tony were temporarily living at the Long Island estate while hunting for a house of their own. Valerie had been surprised that her cousin hadn't gloated over the current state of her and Aaron's relationship. She had, to the contrary, expressed hope that they would get back together. Of course Denise being Denise, she had also stated that if she were in the situation, she would not have sabotaged her own health and happiness by going ahead with the pregnancy. Valerie had shrugged the comment off, but she couldn't help thinking about how uncomplicated Denise's self-gratifying world and its absence of accountability was.

Valerie's last few awkwardly pregnant months had been spent trying to be more understanding of her mother, working sporadically, attending church regularly, and praying to God that things would work out—that Aaron wouldn't go off somewhere and get killed—that he'd live long enough to have a change of heart. But at the same time, she had resigned herself to the fact that she probably was going to be Valerie Redmond, single mom. She had accepted this and would go on accordingly even though the feeble hope burned within her that her wayward husband would change his mind once he actually saw their daughter.

“I do hope you're planning to contact Aaron soon,” Marilyn said. “He needs to know when you go to the hospital.”

If he cared, he would be contacting her more frequently, Valerie thought, not wanting to dwell on that downer. She was considering getting the whole labor and birth over with on her own and then telling him after the birth.

“I'll try,” she replied. “But if he's out of the country, he's going to be difficult to reach.”

“Not an excuse,” Marilyn said. “If you can't reach him, I'm sure Jasmine's husband can.”

***

Five days later, Valerie was in the hospital being prepared for the caesarean. She was nervous, but glad to be in Englewood Hospital. The affiliated doctors were skilled in performing many complicated procedures without immediately resorting to blood transfusions, which was another issue for her because she had a rare blood type and finding a match was difficult. Her obstetrician and hematologist were optimistic. They'd made sure her blood count was higher than normal to offset any possible bleeding issues. Blood transfusions were a consideration only as a last resort.

Aaron received her call late at night in his spartan hotel room in Santo Domingo, where he was sprawled, completely clothed, across the bed, attempting to rest after a grueling sixteen hours entrenched in rescue and recovery efforts on a neighboring Caribbean island that had been devastated by a 7.1 magnitude earthquake.

He was so physically drained from the intense, difficult labor that it took him a while to realize that the piercing sound was not someone screaming in pain, but was in fact the phone ringing.

“Weiss,” he barked into the receiver, nearly knocking the phone off the night table.

“Aaron?” The tentative, questioning voice immediately got his full attention.

“Valerie,
ma shlomekh?”
He didn't even realize he'd asked her how she was in Hebrew until she replied.

“
Lo ra.
Did I just say I'm not bad, or something to that effect?”

His heart hammered in his ears. He was surprised that she even remembered one of the few phrases he'd taught her, since she'd told him the language was difficult.

“I'm okay,” she restated, when she got no reply. “Noah told me where to reach you, and I realize it's late, but I just wanted you to know that I'm in the hospital and I'll be having the baby tomorrow.”

“What!” He sat up straight, the erratic pounding in his chest morphing into a distinct ache. “I thought you had another month?”

“They decided to do it earlier.” Her voice sounded calm, too calm. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

His first reaction, which had been shock, possibly tinged with fear, transformed to a vague annoyance and then indignation, senseless indignation. “I'll be there,” he said.

“You don't have to.” She must have caught the edge in his voice. “I mean, I heard about the earthquake…that you're involved in relief work over there, and of course my hysterical little world pales in comparison to what those poor people are suffering. I called you simply because I thought you'd like to kno—”