Stand By Me (12 page)

“Bruce is my mother up yet?”

“She is ma’am. She is in the solarium reading. One moment,” he said and she could hear her dog in the background.

Sophie fell back against the seat dragging a hand over her face, smiling when she heard her mother’s voice.

Chapter Ten

Having Seamus home from the hospital was exactly what Kenya needed to keep her sanity in check, while putting together Jonathan's defense case. He and Gretchen rode with her to the hospital for her checkups and his therapy. His physical therapy three times a week got her out of the estate and more importantly, she got to meet more of the town’s people and find out how poorly Brian had been treating the people. And how they'd wanted Jonathan to take over the estates for years.

Today, under the cool and balmy air blowing off the river, they were going out to exercise Red and share Jonathan's favorite hobby over the phone. A little family time between them became as important as preparing for the case. It seemed she needed it as much as Jonathan had. Rubbing her belly under her sweater, she had some exciting news for her husband today.

Carl rolled Seamus up the berm beyond the pub doors where the handler had the falcon ready. Getting Seamus up onto the creaky bench, Carl waited to see if she needed anything before he jogged back up to the pub. She inhaled the fresh air and turned back to the handler.

Seamus's recovery was going well and Kenya was falling for the old sod, as Gretchen called him, more and more.

She accepted the leather glove, slipped it on cradled the phone in the crook between her shoulder and neck before answering Jonathan on the other end of the line.

“I have the glove on,” she said tugging the edge up over her elbow, “and the handler says Red should be coming in soon.”

Jonathan directed, “Look up Mo Ru'n--see him yet?”

Craning her neck back, Kenya searched the blue skies. “Uh-uh, not...oh, wait,” a brownish gray blur glided in the wings splayed out wide. “Honey, there...I see him.” Excited she peered down at Seamus perched on the bench. “See him there, over the edge of the river?”

Accent thick the way she'd come to love, he grumbled, “Hold your arm out woman--or he'll land on me head,” Seamus steadied a hand on her slowly disappearing waist beside him. “Now stand still or he'll land on me grandchild sticking out there under your sweater.”

She turned her head in a slow sinister motion, scrunching up her nose, and winked one eyelid at his ruddy face. “You're not helping, Old Man, and that's your big grandchild poking out like that.”

He raised one thick brow smiling bright a hand on her belly. “And I dinna want the bairn with talon marks in his head, can ye no tilt your stomach back some,” Seamus complained lovingly patting her stomach.

Kenya dipped her head and pressed a kiss to Seamus forehead. Having him home, although still in therapy, was wonderful.

“Kenya,” Jonathan got her attention through the line. “Hold yer arm out straight.”

She straightened and returned to her position with her legs braced out over the uneven ground. “How do you know if I am or not, you can't see me?”

He laughed. “Because yer no stop talking, wife. Yer quiet when you concentrate, little moans leave your mouth with your lips pressed together.” He made a moaning sound. “Right before yer climax hits, you concentrate, eyes closed, then explode screaming me name.” He made a low guttural moan in his throat.

“Jonathan!” Kenya choked eyes widening seeing Smus at her side. Jonathan laughed and it rolled through her body. He knew her in ways many men never noticed.

“Aye, you like that, now call him in.” She held her forearm and gave the nod.

Red circled overhead. The closer he came his wings took on a beautiful blur of browns and grays and white in a fierce yet elegant dance with the morning breeze. She understood how this relaxed Jonathan.

“Donna move, let him land and settle his wings.”

She squinted, his wings so close to her face. “He moves a lot of air with his wings. I wasn't expecting to feel a breeze.” Red's talons clamped and curled over the edge of her arm on the glove. Although not a large bird, he felt large having him so close to her face.

“Och, yer a natural, Kenya,” Seamus beamed smiling up at her.

“Aye, yer doing great, Mo Ru'n.”

“Do I ask how you know?” It was scary how well he could read her actions without seeing her.

“When ye hit your stride, and me knees are between yer legs, yer soft thighs spread wide and yer back arching off the bed, ya moan deep in yer throat, with yer head tossed back on the bed...I miss that.”

They both missed that. She bit her lip heat slipping up under the collar of her sweater and knew she had to be burgundy by now. “Did I mention Seamus is by my side?”

Jonathan whispered words over the line that should only be said in a room with a red light bulb hanging outside the window. Although rough and slightly vulgar, the gentle caress of his graveled voice danced down her back, warm with a hint of danger, reminding her of his embrace. She inhaled, letting her mind hold on to the moment and prayed she hadn't moan aloud and not realized.

“Now that you’re tense, can you feel the strength of Red on your arm?” he taunted mercilessly.

“You dirty dog, Blakemore,” Kenya accused blushing profusely. “That was slick of you to get me to tense up so I could feel his strength. No mistaking he's a predator the way his talons are flexing over my arm. I would hate to be his prey. But honey, please don't ask me to feed him mice or small birds,” she complained eyeing Red's head turning side to side.

He chuckled. “No mice or birds sweet wife.” Kenya loved making him smile, another thing she missed was seeing his handsome face every day.

Kenya let her attention fall to Seamus closing her other hand over his large shoulder massaging it more for her contentment than his. He closed his fingers over hers squeezing them gently.

“Your faith and patience is my strength, Kenya. Exercising Red, just relaxes me,” he praised her lovingly and she could hear from his muffled voice he'd rested his forearm along the wall, along with his forehead.

“We're gonna make it through this, Honey. Our love is strong and no one can change who you are to me. Not the prison bars or handcuffs or my lonely bed at night will change the reason my heartbeats. It's Jonathan and Kenya. Not Kenya and whoever else comes along while your away.”

“Keep talking like that and I'm requesting a conjugal visit. And I won't give a damn whose watching.”

He wasn't alone in that thought. Kenya said in a low voice, “Give me a time and I'm there, red bottom shoes and all.”

“Donna tease me woman. I dream of ye so much I leave space for ye on me cot at night.” He sighed deep in the line. “I love ya, Mo Ru'n, now get back to Red before I start fondling me groin.” Now that she was on fire with that visual she looked at the bird on her arm.

Red ruffled his feathers out then tucked them into his sides. “I can feel his body thrumming from the flight.”

“He's cooling down. Has the handler got his hood on, yet?”

Kenya angled back as Red jerked when the cap went on. “Doing it now.”

“You don't know how much I needed this, Kenya. You mean the world to me.”

“I needed it too. We're still a family no matter how far away you are.” She got quiet. “Jonathan, I had an ultrasound today.” Kenya held the phone tight to her face and spoke clearly. “We're having a boy, Blakemore.”

His response pushed the phone from her face. “A boy! Kenya...did you say, a boy,” he stammered and she could hear his breath catch. “I'm having a son...Ethan Jonathan Blakemore,” he announced, his brogue deep and proud warming her heart.

She’d hoped when the doctor told her the baby’s sex for that reaction. “Is that final, my son's name?” she teased.

“Mo Ru'n,” his voice was a determined vow and she remembered his middle name was Ethan. “That's what I've always wanted me son's name to be. Do you like it?”

Her heart flipped under the adorable excitement she heard in his voice. It’s been so long since he’s been this happy. “It's a handsome name--I love it, Blakemore. I think it's perfect,” she said eyeing Seamus winking at her from the bench.

“I think your perfect, absolutely, perfect, Kenya.” Looking out over the river she prayed the day would come soon that the three of them would stand there together as a family.She could picture Ethan running through the grass playing with Judge and Jonathan chasing them around the grounds under the warm spring sun. Whew! Get him home first girl then dream.

She came back to herself as the quiet, she dreaded, filled the air signaling their time ending.

“You'll stand by me, Kenya?”

“Always.” The line went dead as the minute hand on her watch signaled their fifteen minutes to be over. Kenya slipped the phone into her jeans pocket and eased down beside Seamus on the bench.

“Yer a good woman, Kenya,” Seamus beamed with pride and it warmed the air around her enough to make her smile.

“I need him home, Seamus.” Resting her face on his shoulder, together, they sat and watched the river flow by, her hands closed around his biceps. She spoke against his shoulder, “I love your grandson...Lord help me, but I need him home. Some days I handle it fine. When you came out of the coma and the nurse called I breathed a little more. Then there’s the days it all crashes around me and I crumble. Those were the worst.”

He tucked her in tight to his body as the cool air blew through her hair moving it around her face. “You gave him a reason to care. We'll get him home, donna worry, Kenya, we'll get me grandson home...” he trailed off stroking a hand down over her hair. They sat in the warmth of the morning sun forever it seemed before going into the castle.

Chapter Eleven

Kenya couldn't believe how fast Jonathan's trial came up. The courtroom held a funky boastful pride about it with Brian all smug and arrogant on the prosecutor's side. Scanning the rows behind him she searched for Morgan. Where could she be? What had he done with her sister? Brian's hands were dirtier than she first thought. He's greased some palms somewhere, there was no doubt in her mind.

Her gaze fell over the courtroom comparing it to those in the States, and the feeling of death row filled her mind. It was next to impossible not to fixate on the guns packed into the holsters on the hips of the bailiffs flanking either side of the Judge's desk.

People milled around whispering and speculating about what exactly happened that evening in the hospital parking lot.

She smoothed her gray skirt down over her knees crossing them to keep from wiggling too much. Anxiety ate at her nerves seeing Jonathan stand before the court with his lawyer. His proud posture and broad shoulders filled her with pride and trepidation because of his size; if he went to prison men would challenge him daily. It wasn't him getting hurt that bothered her, but because of his size and wealth, men would test him and he'd be stuck in solitary for beating up people.

Peering around the courtroom, she reached back and held Sophie's hand caressing her tenderly. She absorbed the comfort before Katherine moved in massaging her thigh as she had when she'd come in from riding her bike all day.

“All rise,” the bailiff, said when the side door behind the stand opened and the judge entered the room, his black cloak floating around his body. The courtroom echoed by people getting comfortable in their seats after the judge ordered the room to be seated.

“Jonathan Blakemore you have been charged with the death of Graham Brennar, former accountant to Blakemore estates and two counts of aggravated assault and two counts of manslaughter.” The judge read off the names. One by one, their families sent tight glances over toward Jonathan. They were wailing crocodile tears, smudging their three too many layers of mascara down their pale faces, shouting how great these men were. They had to be talking about other men. The men that attacked her had been slimy slugs with torture on their minds. “How do you plead on the death of Graham Brennar, Mr. Jonathan Blakemore?”

Kenya held her breath, literally, as her husband stood shoulders back, proud in the face of imprisonment.

Jonathan held himself proud and announced, “I plead not guilty.” The room sighed. Kenya gulped and threaded her fingers with Sophie's. The room held a low buzz of anticipation as the Judge pushed a pair of wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, before settling his stare at the paper in his hand.

The Judge asked a second question, “On the charge of wounding two of Brian Blakemore's employees, and the deaths of two other employees how do you plead?”

Every person's attention in that courtroom focused on Jonathan. His jaw relaxed and Kenya held her breath her fingers digging into the flesh under her knees. Jonathan's voice came out strong and proud when he said, “I plead guilty to all charges.” The room erupted. Kenya couldn't breathe, all the air in the room became toxic as she threw her hands over her face while wobbly getting to her feet. She grasped for the wooden divider, struggling to breathe around the lump of curses threatening to choke her after hearing his confession. She reached out to grab him around the waist, burrowed into his back chanting no repeatedly as the bailiff came over. “Mo Ru'n,” Jonathan turned, his tight voice reflected the pain in his heart. He held her to his chest lifting her face with one hand as his other grasped the hem of her sweater getting his hand beneath the material to flatten his hand over their baby. He spoke quickly and briefly, his fingers caressing her tummy. “Jamie's your family. Trust him. He loves you like a sister. He'll take care of you, Kenya Blakemore,” his voice held cracks in the steel armor he shielded with, but she felt his pain in his touch along her jawline.

A wave of panic hit her as she felt him moving away. “Jonathan...no,” she pleaded as controlled as her trembling lips would allow her words to be spoken. His lapels she clutched between her fingers getting closer with the divider between them. Shaking her head in a tight side-to-side motion, she reasoned for what made sense in her mind. “Those punks had guns, Jonathan; you were just protecting your family.” Kenya laid her hand flat on her stomach. “We can't lose you.” The room came to life as complaints and roars filled the space. He said nothing locking his stare with her, feeding her a private message.