Chapter 20

And it was 1997. Glory and I had been getting along very good. It would turn out that Penelope and Grant would be alternating in delivering my Zoey to our place during the year. Yes, things had turned out for the better. I had my woman, he had my used-to-be woman and there did not appear to be any attempt to try and turn Zoey against me, or, toward them. I could live with the situation as it was developing. But then things began to get a little dicey.

It was March, March 6th actually, Glory came into the office, my office, and yes, I had one now, at Costley and Michaels.

“Wow, you taking me to lunch?” I said.

“Well, no, not exactly. I mean we could go to lunch, but that’s not why I came in today,” she said.

“Okay?” I said.

“No, it’s just that I’m pregnant,” she said. I looked up; I looked down, I looked to the right and to the left. Then, I stared at her, kinda.

“Huh?” I said.

“You’re going to be a daddy, again, I guess,” she said. “I just found out this morning.”

“Damn! That is fantastic news!” I said. “Oh, and yes, we are going to lunch. Oh, and I will be paying. Jesus this is really good news.”

“Well, I am so glad you have such a positive outlook,” she said.

“Do we... ?” I started.

“Not yet. Maybe in another month. But it feels like a girl, sort of, I think,” she said. I smiled.

“Healthy is all I care about at this point anyway,” I said.

“Yes, well me too, really,” she said.

“Would this be a good time?” he said. “I mean would I be out of line... ?”

“Huh?” she said.

“You know, to ask you to marry a no legged genius?” I said.

“I think I could respond in the affirmative to that question,” she said. “Well, I mean if you could see your way clear to marry someone as ugly as me,” she said.

“You’re not ugly. You’re messed up because of an accident, but you look good to me, really,” I said.

“Hmm,” she said. “Well, okay then, let’s do it.”

And we did get married and we kind of reversed things per the Milt and Liz hook up. Milt was my best man and Lance gave Glory away. Oh, and yes, I was the groom.

“I do,” I said, staring at my woman from my chair. She said “I do,” starting down at me from her standing position; well, she did have to use her crutch as she always did. The wedding was at city hall, the justice of the peace did the honors. And it was very nice, it really was. We had a dozen souls from the office, a few friends of Milts and some others were in attendance too. Twenty-three people in all.

We did have a reception, and it was noisy, at the Pasture—well where else; it had sentimental value. It was June 3rd, 1997; and I was what I’d never thought that I would be again, married.

The Hardys had been apprised of Glory’s pregnancy, but now, she was almost five months along and it was becoming obvious and something of an issue, not a big issue, not yet, but a small one at the least.

Zoe was eight-years-old. The bad guys, and yes, I still saw them in that light if not especially aggressively so, had been delivering her on time as agreed. Though it was mostly Penelope doing the delivery anymore. Grant still did it sometimes, but not as often as before.

I saw her unloading Zoe’s things and herding her up to the door. It was July 13th, my full week started today. They’d be picking her up on Sunday the 20th.

“Everything good?” said Penelope.

“Yes, we’re fine. Still got a few months to go,” I said. “Early November is the prediction.” She nodded.

“If it gets to be a little too much, you know, down the line; we could pick up the slack with Zoey. Your call of course,” she said. I think she noticed my face clouding over.

“No, that’s my responsibility. Just like it was Grant’s when your son came along,” I said.

“Okay, I wasn’t trying to interfere with anything, just letting you know we’re around if you need any help.” She nodded toward my legs.

“No, we’ve got things figured out. We won’t need anything along those lines,” I said. She nodded, but it was kind of a questioning nodding.

“So, you’re worried,” said Glory.

“Hmm, no, worried would be over stating it. I never had any illusions about her caring an iota about me per Zoey. She really would like to see me out of the picture; I know that. And now you being with child, I figure she is even more wishing I were somewhere else than around my daughter. But, no, worried would not be the word. Watchful maybe,” I said.

“Hmm, sounds like the same thing to me,” she said. I shrugged.

“Hmm, maybe, but I don’t feel concerned that she is going to try anything overt. Even she has more conscience than that; well, I think she does,” I said.

“It was kinda late, maybe 11:15 p.m. and I heard the scream. And well, I was a military genius: the car was packed, I’d seen to that days before; and we were on the road to the Mercy General in three minutes.

Two nurses and Doctor Lewis, a youngish fellow, her gynecologist, were on the job. He would be doing the delivery himself.

It was 7:00 a.m. November 9th, 1997, before baby Christina Wyatt joined the human race.

“Baby girl,” he announced, coming into the waiting room, “seven pounds, nine ounces. Both mom and baby are doing fine.”

I was so relieved. The problems that Penelope had had with Ronald, while in no way related to our child, mine and Glory’s; left me with the realization that even in this modern age, things could be problematical with pregnancies. But such had not been a problem with Christina’s birth.”

And now, a new chapter in the long and illustrious career of one Lee Wyatt would be written in stone. I couldn’t wait.

I knew that the Hardys would have been alerted by somebody at the hospital. He knew everybody or nearly so, I was sure. I wondered how long it would be before they made an appearance, probably not long was my less than scientific analysis.

And, I was about to be proven right.

The 10th was supposed to the day that Zoey was delivered to us for the start of my week with her. But I was still at the hospital, and the man knew it, and so I got a visit from the man instead, that is sans Zoey.

“Next week be better?” he said, coming in without undue ceremony. Much as I hated the idea of breaking the routine, I felt like I had to. I was certain that the woman, my ex-woman would be snorting her victory, as I’m sure she would be seeing it, when he returned with my agreement. I decided to say so to him.

“Yes, tell her she gets the win this time. But just the one-week delay unless she has some other plans that I’m not aware of,” I said.

“You’ve got it wrong man. She isn’t gloating or anything. She did suggest the trade of the week. Well, I mean you’re still here at the hospital and Glory will be here until tomorrow earliest. So ... well, it just makes sense,” he said.

“Yes, it makes sense, and, and I thank her for that; but she’ll still be gloating and I know it, and more, you know I know it,” I said.

“Really man, there is no conspiracy here. Has there been some stuff in the past? Okay, yes. But not for a long time,” he said.