Trial By Fire - Bouncing Back, Book 1

Thirty-Nine

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she heard was the steady beeping of the monitors. Her first thoughts were that she was grateful to be alive, but the next thoughts were a series of questions.

Where was Memphis? Did he stay with her like he promised, or had he left? As one of her hands finally moved to touch her stomach, she had another thought. Where was her baby? Was he okay?

Pushing herself, she urged her body to react to her mental commands. Wincing, she turned her head to the side and moaned softly as a ripple of pain shot through her.

Bad idea, she thought dryly.

She turned her eyes to the sound of someone talking, and spotted Memphis on the other side of the room. The sight of his mussed-up hair and rumpled clothes said that he had been too worried to do much of anything. No one else knew that she was always watching him when she wasn't watching Nix's back. No one else knew that he never messed up his hair unless he was stressed or extremely worried about something. They didn’t know his tells like she did.

Ever since they’d gotten together, he'd been attentive to her needs and wants. He’d always known when to push her buttons, and when to lie low. He knew all her favourite things, and he knew how to calm her when she was on edge. Memphis was a challenge; someone she knew she could turn to in a moment of need. Someone she knew could give as good as he got. Now, he was her husband, and the father of their newborn.

She felt the sting of tears burn her eyes as she listened to him pray. Unable to help it, she spoke up, "Memphis?"

His head snapped up, and his honey-brown eyes widened, shimmering with tears as they landed on her. He took a breath, not knowing what to do or what to say. Getting to his feet, he moved out of her line of sight without speaking. When he returned, he was holding a small bundle in his arms.

"You have no idea how hard I prayed to God that you would be okay, Kenni," he whispered. Kissing her forehead, he tucked the baby in the space between her arm and her body.

She sobbed when she looked down at the infant's face.

"Look, Francis. Mommy woke up," he murmured as his fingertips gently caressed the boy's head of short, dark curls.

"What happened to me?" She muttered from behind the oxygen mask.

His smile faded. For a brief moment, he looked every bit the predator he was raised to be. "You hemorrhaged. They lost you three times during surgery, but they managed to stop the bleeding and save your reproductive organs."

She heard what he didn't say, knowing that he was thinking of her health and protection. "No more kids for us."

"Not for a while, at least," he said. "Nearly losing you twice in a lifetime is two times too many, mon ange. I’ve given it some thought, and I’ve decided to have a vasectomy. Besides, it’s kind of sexist to make you solely responsible for not getting pregnant again. We’re a team, remember?”

"Memphis," she murmured, choking back her tears. It still amazed her that he could be so damn sweet. The effort it took to stay awake was actually making her even more tired. Gazing down at the sleeping baby, she sobbed, "He looks like you."

His phone rang, his father's ringtone quietly filling the small space. He fumbled with the device, sleep invading his line of sight as he slid the button across to answer it. "Hello?"

Thomas let out a breath, "How is she? Have there been any changes?"

Memphis watched as Kennedy lost her battle with the medicine pumping through her body and fell back into a peaceful sleep. Smiling tenderly at her, he said, "She was awake for a few minutes, and we had a talk. I put Francis on the bed with her so that she could see he was alright. We’re not having any more kids until her body can fully handle it and we’re ready, though.”

"So, what now?" Thomas pressed.

"I've thought it over," Memphis started. He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I can't lose the woman I love, so I’m taking it in my own hands. I have my first vasectomy appointment scheduled for next week."

"Do what you need to do," Thomas answered softly. He knew that his son had been thinking hard about coming to that decision.

Memphis stilled, "You're not going to try to talk me out of it?"

"No, I'm not. You're right, she's been through enough. You sound like you really thought it through, and I'm a little surprised you chose to go that route, but it only proves that you've grown up, Memphis,” Thomas paused, breathing deeply for a few minutes. When he spoke again, Memphis could hear the pride in his father’s voice. “You're putting your family first, and that's what I like to see. Out of everyone she could have picked, out of all the guys she could have gone out with, she chose you. She’s stood by you through thick and thin so far, so don’t f**k this up."

Memphis smiled, knowing that his father had been drinking just by the way he was talking. "How many have you had?"

"A six-pack to celebrate the birth of that handsome little grandson of mine," Thomas laughed. "You want me to be honest about the reason I didn't want you with her?”

“I would appreciate it, yeah,” Memphis replied dryly.

Thomas barked a laugh, “You grew up having all sorts of racial slurs thrown at you. I didn't want you to go through any more of it, and I was afraid she would hurt you. She proved me wrong in so many ways."

"She's never mentioned anything about religious, racial, or social status before. That kind of s**t doesn't bug her. What does is when grown-ass adults decide to use other people's differences against them. I feel the same way about it, too. I mean, if a child can accept others despite all that crap, then why can't the rest of the world?" Memphis lamented softly.

Thomas huffed a laugh through the phone. He was enjoying the changes he was seeing in his son. Ever since he allowed them to be together, Kennedy never changed her stance. For once, he was thankful Hans instilled his beliefs in the girl before he passed. "What's Francis’ full name?"

Memphis smirked before he answered the man on the other line. "We talked about it a few months ago, and we were going to surprise you, but this will have to do.”

“Stop using my tricks against me, Memphis. I taught you that,” Thomas growled out.

Chuckling quietly, the younger man said, “His full name is Francis Thomas Rubin-Slade."

He snickered as the phone fell from his father's hand. Listening to the muffled curses as the older man fought to find the device. Finally, he was back on the line, "You lyin' to me, boy?"

"No, I'm not lying. We agreed to name the baby after both our fathers. We butt heads about it, but we settled on giving him a hyphenated surname to keep the Rubin name alive."

"Brat," Thomas muttered into the phone. "Get some rest. You gotta pick up the slack when she's down."

"I know, Dad," Memphis yawned. Hanging up the call, he put Francis back in the hospital-issued crib, lightly tucking the newborn in. Stretching, he yawned again before lying down.

Later that morning, he was awakened by the mewling cries of his son. Groaning, he rose to his feet, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Stumbling over to the crib, he carefully picked up the infant. Cradling him in his arms, Memphis walked out to the nurses' station.

The man behind the counter looked up from the monitor, "Excuse me, visitation doesn't start for a few hours.”

Memphis raised a brow, "I was permitted to spend the night with my wife. I wanted to know if you could help me."

"Not sure what to do?" the man replied.

Shaking his head, Memphis said, “No, not really. I could use a refresher on diaper changes and measuring the formula. By the way, we ran out of what we brought. Do you happen to have any on hand?"

Nodding, the nurse handed over the formula. “It happens. Anyway, my name is Felix. Come on, I’ll show you how to do newborn care.”

“I seriously appreciate it,” Memphis breathed.

Getting to his feet, the other man stood next to Memphis and peered down at the baby. Taking him to a family room, he showed Memphis how to clean the boy properly between changes, how to temperature the bath water, and what temperature would be best for the bottle so that the baby didn’t burn his mouth. The nurse grinned as Memphis retold the story of the security guard in the lobby. "I wouldn't worry about him anymore. Heard that the Director let him have it for some racial stuff he was pulling."

"That's because my wife is her sister-in-law," Memphis confided.

"Shoot. Rumour has it that he's a member of the local KKK or something," Felix said, shaking his head.

Snickering, Memphis said, "He messed with the wrong family this time. I have got a lot of friends in high places, and even more in low."

Moving to the fridge, the other man pulled out a bottle of distilled water. “So, we are now recommending using distilled water. This is because they will be getting all the minerals, they need from the baby formula. If tap water or spring water is used, then it’s a little harder for parents to really control the amount of minerals their baby is consuming. Warm, room temperature formula is best. That way, it’s not too hot and not too cold, while making it easier for the baby to digest.”

“Good to know,” Memphis replied as Francis eagerly drank the milk.