No one felt like talking and if they had to, they did so in whispers. Malichai paid close attention to his patient and when he finally did look up, the baby had tubes in her and she was in the little NICU. Her brother was placed close to her, but where he couldn’t tear out any of the necessary lines she needed.
Time crawled by. There was never any hurrying Rubin. He never gave off a sense of urgency, yet Malichai knew him well. When he’d first stepped up to help Ezekiel, that strain had been there. Thankfully, it seemed to be fading. He straightened very slowly and looked at Ezekiel and then Trap. He just nodded. That was it. Once. He took a step toward the chairs and then staggered.
Joe caught his arm and helped him to sit. Malichai cursed inwardly. He would be putting more strain on Rubin when it came to once again attempting to heal the bone in his leg.
Ezekiel worked next, using very small stitches to meticulously close the incision he’d made to separate the muscle and wall of the uterus. He had gone around the silken shield so that was thankfully still intact.
“I don’t want Cayenne under so long, Zeke,” he told his brother. “I’m backing her out if it’s okay with you.” He’d barely kept her just below the surface, uncertain how she would do.
Ezekiel nodded and Trap gripped Cayenne’s hand. She stirred eventually and turned her head, suddenly vomiting. Both Malichai and Trap had been ready for that. She had a much more delicate system, as she been raised on rations and wasn’t used to most foods or drink. When she went out with everyone, she appeared to drink or eat what they did, but she almost always got rid of it because most things made her sick.
Trap had learned that the first time he’d ever been with her. She didn’t like beer, but she appeared to drink it because everyone in the bar drank it. He’d tried to teach her that it didn’t matter what others thought, but she still always gave the appearance of fitting in. Trap had told them to offer her alternatives whenever they were with her, but if they didn’t, she always simply appeared to drink or eat with them.
Malichai looked around his room. It looked like a hospital setting, with a portable NICU and doctors everywhere. His eyes met Amaryllis’s. They both shook their heads.
“Malichai,” Ezekiel said softly. He once again was taking Cayenne’s blood pressure and pulse. “You aren’t supposed to be putting any weight on that leg.”
The moment his brother pointed it out, his leg throbbed like a son of a bitch. Worse, everyone in the room stared at him. He indicated Cayenne. “I think there’s someone a little more important in my bed at the moment.”
“Get off the leg, Malichai,” Ezekiel and Rubin ordered at the same time.
16
Malichai sat in the basement with Trap and Cayenne waiting for Amaryllis to finish up in the kitchen. Marie had gone with Jacy back to the Fontenots’ home in the swamps near New Orleans. They were able to fly in Trap’s very luxurious private jet, which made Jacy happy. Nonny was going to make Marie very happy, so Malichai wasn’t too worried about the two of them. He was more worried about his leg.
Joe and Amaryllis worked on him in the morning, healing the hairline fractures running through the bone. He didn’t say a word to either of them, but all day, his leg ached, and he hadn’t done much at all. The basement had been transformed into a mini-hospital, with a bed for Cayenne and the little units for the babies. They had nurses to help, but since Malichai had been forbidden to help Amaryllis around the bed-and-breakfast, and he couldn’t stand watching her do all the work, he’d been in the basement, helping Trap and Cayenne with their babies, specifically the little girl. They still hadn’t named her. He wanted them to. He felt that the child was aware of everything happening to her.
She was the daughter of two GhostWalkers, two very intelligent, psychically and physically enhanced GhostWalkers. She seemed alert and aware of her surroundings and of everything happening to her. She was cooperative, especially when he spoke softly to her and let her know why he was doing certain things to her. Why she needed the breathing tubes. Why her lungs weren’t quite developed, but the shot would help.
Her brother was now named Axel, and Malichai knew the baby was pleased with his name. He should be. Axel had been one of the few men Trap respected. He’d died in the field, saving his fellow Marines and a few of the GhostWalkers who were working on wounded. Trap had been one of those men. Malichai another. Axel was a good, strong name. But the little girl needed a name.
“Trap, what are you waiting for?” he demanded.
Cayenne cradled their little daughter to her protectively. She looked at her husband, but she didn’t say anything. Malichai didn’t expect her to. Amaryllis would have a lot to say, but Cayenne mostly went along with Trap.
“Waiting for all those tubes to be gone,” Trap said gruffly.
“Well, stop waiting, she doesn’t like it,” Malichai informed him.
Trap turned around slowly. He was pacing up and down the length of the basement, Axel in his arms. “What do you mean, she doesn’t like it?”
“She’s telepathic. Same as your son. They talk back and forth. She doesn’t like that you haven’t given her a name. In fact, she thinks you don’t want her. Apparently, you don’t hold her. Only Cayenne does.”
Trap stood very still, a deer caught in the headlights. He raked one hand through his hair, making it stand on end so that he looked like the mad scientist most everyone called him. Then he quickly dropped the hand back to his son so that he clutched the boy as if he might fall at any moment.
“Look at her,” he finally burst out. It sounded like an accusation.
For the first time, Cayenne reacted, pulling the baby in closer to her and hunching her body protectively, her eyes on her husband. “I’ll name her, Malichai.” She looked down at the tiny face and smiled. “I want you, beautiful. I had no idea you were there, lurking in the background. You’re like me, aren’t you? Axel is like your father, but you’re like me. You don’t mind being quiet while they stand in front.”
“I want her too, Cayenne,” Trap said. “You’re misunderstanding me. I can’t hold her because she’s so tiny. I’m afraid I’ll crush her. That’s what I mean when I tell you to look at her. It’s about her being so little. So tiny. Look at my hands and look at her.”
Malichai knew Trap. He heard the ring of sincerity in his voice. He loved his little girl and was panicked at the thought of hurting her. Just as he was terrified of losing Cayenne, he was fearful of losing his tiny daughter. That was most likely the real reason he didn’t want to name her.
“I’ve already picked out her name,” Trap added gruffly. “I had the name picked out before she was born. Drusilla. I want to call her Drusilla. We talked about this once, Cayenne, and you said it was all right with you.” He sounded choked up, which was very unusual for Trap. He wasn’t, as a rule, emotional.
“I know I did,” Cayenne hedged. “She’s like me, Trap. She’s quiet, but she’s a fighter.”
Trap took the seat beside Cayenne and handed Axel to Malichai. He held out his arms for his daughter. “Share, sweetheart. You’re not supposed to be holding anything too heavy. In fact, you shouldn’t be up yet.”