Blood Is Thicker...
By
Christine
Part Three
Chapter 26
Jason Van Cleaf came into the world, after an overly long and painful labor, red-faced and screaming angrily for all who had ears. He had a thick thatch of dark hair, and he seemed so tiny to Pik, although the doctor assured him he was in perfect health. "Oh, you did real good, Maddie. You did real good," was all he could get past the lump in his throat as he held him for the first time.
Madeleine was content to stay in the hospital an extra day. The birth had taken a great deal out of her and she was still exhausted. That baby simply had wanted to stay where he was, and seemed to fight her every effort to push him out. Baskets, balloons, flowers and gifts filled her hospital room. And one unsigned gift in particular brought a chill to her skin. "Pik…" she began hesitantly after she had examined it. He was busy gathering several gifts together so he could take some of them home that evening.
"What is it?"
She showed him a small velvet-lined carved oak box. It contained an infant's bowl, cup, plate, fork and spoon, all in pure silver. An etched silver rattle had been tied among the ribbons as well. It was a beautiful set, but the sentiment reminded her of the vanity set her father had given her on her birthday. She told Pik her concerns.
He said, "I'm sure it's just a coincidence," but left the room immediately. Soon after, and it was no surprise to Madeleine, she learned she would not be getting her extra day of rest in the hospital.
"I'm not saying I believe your father sent the gift. I just don't like the idea of someone sending such an expensive present like this and not leaving a card. It doesn't sit well with me."
They were settled into his parents' home within hours, and Pik remained highly agitated for weeks, constantly on alert for anything out of the ordinary. He could not let himself believe Fouchon had been able to follow their trail to South Africa, he had been so careful. The incident with the silver gift set and the dropping of the charges were long enough in time apart to be unrelated, but Pik felt they were linked.
Eight weeks had passed, and Madeleine at last felt her body had recovered from the trauma of childbirth. Jason had grown strong and healthy, and Pik was no longer nervous handling him. Madeleine was thrilled to learn all the mothering she could from Dora, and was also gaining confidence in the area of parenthood. They offered to purchase the home next door to Pik's parents, and the deal was almost complete.
It was time to celebrate, and as Jason slept, Wit and Dora were downstairs with Pik while Madeleine finished showering. It was to be the first time the two of them went out alone since the baby's birth, and Jason's grandparents were happy to sit for them while they enjoyed an evening of fun together.
Anxious to get their evening together underway, Madeleine sat in her robe at her dressing table and vigorously began rubbing her hair dry. Flipping her wet hair back, she reached for a comb, but snatched her hand back when she felt cool silver. She pushed her hair from her eyes and stood, gathering up the silver brush, comb and mirror all together in her hands. Trying to swallow through her suddenly dry throat, she turned the mirror over to its back to find the "F" monogram she knew would be there. The items slipped from her hands and seemed to fall in slow motion to the hardwood floor, shattered glass splintering out over it.
"Jason…" she barely croaked out and ran barefoot into her son's nursery. She halted just through the doorway when she saw her father turning from the window to face her, Jason cradled gently in his arms.
One hand over her mouth and the other held out toward them, she walked slowly in their direction. "Please, Papa, don't hurt him."
"Hurt him?" he asked as if he didn't know how disturbing his presence there was to her.
Pik had heard the thump on the floor and breaking glass, and had unhurriedly come up the stairs to see if Madeleine needed any help. He heard the voices coming from the nursery and walked in on the scene. He pulled his wife protectively behind him and instinctively reached to his side for a firearm that hadn't been there in months. Madeleine's fingernails dug into his arms, and he could hear her breathing rapidly. His own pulse throbbed in his ears.
"You're getting soft, Pik," Fouchon commented, noticing his reach for his weapon. "It doesn't suit you." Jason rested contentedly in the crook of his grandfather's arm, and tightly grasped Fouchon's index finger. "If it's any consolation to you, I came here unarmed as well."
"Put him down," Pik said coldly.
Fouchon's only compliance was to seat himself in the stuffed rocking chair. He looked back and forth between Pik and the baby and said, "I think he likes me, don't you?" He jiggled his index finger so the baby would cling to it more tightly. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt him. He's my own flesh and blood."
"Then why did you follow us all the way here?" Pik asked.
"Follow you? Why, Pik, you flatter me. You're the tracker, not I. I did know, however, that this is where you would eventually end up. I arrived here before you did." Fouchon's voice was sweet and mellow for the baby's sake, but he had heard his father's voice and began to fuss for him. Fouchon stood and gently handed him to his mother, who pulled him closely to her chest. He nonchalantly sat down in the chair again.
"Take the baby and go," Pik ordered coolly to her, keeping his eyes on Fouchon.
She stood her ground. "Papa, are you the one who had the charges dropped against Pik?"
Fouchon feigned humility, "Well, I couldn't leave my son-in-law with a warrant against him."
"You know damn well there are plenty of warrants out against both of us." Pik retorted.
"Of course, of course. But not in your real name…the name you gave my daughter…the name you gave my grandson."
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