The Sins of the Father
by Amanda Rohrssen
Chapter Eleven
“This is bad, Mr. M,” Charlie proclaimed as he filled Jacob’s glass for the fourth time. “Y’don’ knock a girl up an’ tell her ya don’ want it. After all, you helped her make it.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Jacob snapped, gulping down another mouthful of whiskey. It burned like hell, and he loved it. “What else could I say? I’d make a lousy father! It’s in the genes, she knows that.”
“Well, y’don’ want her ta get rid of it, do ya?”
Jacob shook his head once viciously. “Not a chance.” He was silent as he let the whiskey churn in his gut. Images of times past muddled across his mind, and he scowled in an attempt to wipe them out. Downing the last of his glass, his gaze narrowed on the quivering remnants of liquid at the bottom as he thought hard. “I never meant to hurt her, Charlie,” he finally said hoarsely. “I’m just…”
“Scared?”
Jacob’s jaw clenched noticeably, but he refused to look up. The barkeep simply nodded.
“I know what that’s like. I got two o’ my own back home.”
The black eyes flew open and stared at his friend. “You have kids?”
Charlie chuckled and shrugged. “Well sure. A man’s gotta have a family. Otherwise, what legacy can he leave to the world once he’s gone? What purpose does he got? I tell ya, Mr. M, fatherhood changed my life, and I wouldn’t give up nothin’.”
“How do you do it, Charlie?”
“Do what?”
“…Be a father?”
“It may seem hard at first, sir, an’ lemme tell you it won’t get any easier. But it’s the most rewardin’ thing you can ever think of. I can’t tell you precisely how to do it, ‘cause it’s a different challenge for every man, an’ not every man is up for this kind of a challenge.” Charlie leaned in closer, ignoring an impatient pig hollering for a pint of Mud Light. “Are you up to the challenge, Mr. M?”
It was just past midnight when Jacob crept home on silent feet. The alcohol hadn’t quite hit him as hard as it had the night he realized he loved her, but it was still hard to cling to the speech he had recited in his head. He planned on finding a piece of paper and a pen as soon as he reached the kitchen, but he couldn’t seem to remember where they were. Rummaging more noisily than necessary, Jacob hunted for his quarry until the lights overhead sprang to life, momentarily blinding him.
“Ahh!” he cried, squinting through the brightness. “What’d you do that for?”
“Jacob, it’s midnight,” Gail’s voice said sternly. “What are you doing out here? Did you just get back? Where have you been?”
“The Old Haunt. A few seconds ago. Looking for pen and paper.”
“You know how I feel about that place,” replied his wife with a certain amount of disdain dripping from her voice.
“Did I wake you?” he asked, eager to change the subject.
She sighed. “No…I couldn’t sleep.”
The suddenly somber mood in the air sobered him up, and he blinked until his sight adjusted. He could see that the raw heartbreak was still stinging in her eyes.
“Come here,” he said softly, leading her toward their dining room table. He sat opposite her and stared down at the placemats Gail had so meticulously sewn herself while he was away.
“Jacob, I’m tired,” she said, and he could tell it was a desire to be away from him rather than sleep that spurred her plea.
“Wait,” he swallowed thickly, placing a gentle hand over hers. “I need to say something to you.”
A slight rustle met his ears as she sat back wordlessly and waited.
He took a few deep breaths and found that he was trembling. He laughed at himself a little at shook his head. “God, why is it so hard to talk to you?”
“You aren’t going to leave me…are you?”
The sound of her voice was like a nightingale with a broken wing, realizing its end was drawing near and clinging desperately to the few moments of life it had left. He felt his heart bleed for her. Never before had he known such empathy for another person. He loved Gail so much that her heart seemed to have inexplicably tangled itself with his.
Immediately he was on his feet and standing beside her. Kneeling down to where she sat, he put one of his arms around her and rubbed her back.
“Never,” he whispered fervently, and he knew he meant every word. “I promise, Gail Leigh Mallard, that as long as you are my wife, I will never leave you.”
Tears streamed down her face and her arms encircled his neck. He held her close, cursing himself for not seeing it sooner. Jacob’s immediate reaction to increased responsibility in a relationship was to leave, and Gail knew that. It was why she had been so upset.
“I can’t do this alone,” she sobbed into his neck. “I want a family, Jacob. I want us to have a family together.”
“We will,” he said firmly. “I was stupid and…afraid. It caught me off guard and, after all, my father was no role model…and neither am I.”
“If you weren’t a good man, I would never have married you,” she reassured him soothingly. “You’ll be a wonderful father, I just know it.”
“As long as I have you to keep me in line,” he smirked. “I’m up for the challenge. We can do this. Together, we can do anything.” He kissed her cheeks sweetly, tasting the salt of her tears, then slid his arms underneath her and plucked her up and out of the chair. The smile she gave him was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, and once again, all was right with the world.
Lowering his bill to her ear, he crooned slyly, “Now…why don’t we replay our honeymoon…? And tomorrow, I’ll take you for a ride in my new car.”
Two weeks passed, and the young SHUSH agent had no idea what was in store for him as he entered the double doors of the government building that morning. He had just returned from an assignment in New Zealand the previous evening, and already he was itching for another adventure. Little did he know he would soon get more than he bargained for.
“Why hello, Agent Mallard,” Bonaparte’s middle-aged receptionist greeted Jacob flirtatiously as he entered the executive wing.
“Penny,” he replied with a quirked eyebrow. He always enjoyed bantering back and forth with her before seeing the director. “You’re looking ravishing this morning.”
“Oh Jacob,” she giggled. “You’re not looking bad yourself. It’s a shame you’re taken.”
“Ah, I may not be able to give my hand to anyone else, but I am certainly free to give away my charm…”
Penny rested her chin in her hand and gazed at him with a smirk. “Hmm. And what a professional charmer you are. Did you bring me anything back?”
He pulled a carved wooden rose from his suit pocket and handed it to her. “Here you are, Penny, as requested. Finest Maori carpentry work. Gail was jealous when she saw it, but you know I get only the best for you.” He winked at her.
She took the flower eagerly and admired it. “Agent Mallard, are you sure…?”
“Oh come on, Penny, you know how I feel about you.”
She shook her head with a cynical smile. “The director will see you now.”
“Thank you, Penny,” he said, sweeping past her with a stoic stride as he went into Bonaparte’s office.
The director was hunched over a file, a magnifying glass in his left hand as he scanned the paperwork meticulously. “Idiots,” he muttered. “Can’t even fill out an ID-79-W form correctly.”
Jacob cleared his throat. “You wanted to see me, Director?”
Bonaparte lifted his head with a start, focusing the magnifying glass on the respected agent. “Eh? Oh, it’s you, Mallard.” The old vulture hopped down from his office chair, a full two heads shorter than Jacob. His yellow, triangular eyes scrutinized his agent scornfully. “You think you’re hot stuff, don’t you?”
“Well, you may or may not recall a certain monarch’s life was saved by yours truly, among various other amazing accomplishments, so – in a word – yes. But I don’t just think I’m hot stuff. I am.”
“Indeed,” Bonaparte sneered. “Well, in addition to your ‘amazing accomplishments’, you might remember a customized vehicle I had commissioned especially for you. But that car was not made for pleasure, or whatever mundane activities you may use it for. I gave it to you on the condition you would use it for your work duties.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Your work duties alone. You were spotted several times gallivanting through the city with a woman in that vehicle.”
“That ‘woman’ is my wife,” protested Jacob.
“Even so. That vehicle is not a toy, Agent Mallard. Don’t let it happen again.”
A flash of satisfaction flickered in Bonaparte’s eyes, and Jacob’s mood briefly soured.
“Well!” continued the director, his tone suddenly upbeat. “Let’s take a walk, shall we?”
Leading a frowning Agent Mallard through the SHUSH hallways, Director Bonaparte waited until they were standing just outside of the briefing room before he spoke again.
“I am assigning you a partner, Agent Mallard.”
Instantly Jacob’s brows knitted together. “But Director, I work—"
“Whether you want one or not,” Bonaparte continued, unfettered. “You’ll be cooperating with British Intelligence’s top agent. It seems they’ve run into a snag with a criminal mastermind and need our help to bring him down.”
“You mean my help,” Jacob corrected him smugly under his breath.
“He seems to have made a run for it into our jurisdiction, and they requested you by name. Were it solely my decision, I would have assigned you as far away from this case as possible. Now follow me. And for God’s sake, straighten your tie.”
Muttering, Jacob did as he was told and followed his superior inside of the room. They were met with a very tall stately looking eagle with neatly combed feathers and bushy brown eyebrows. He was wearing a meticulously ironed white suit, and upon their entrance, he straightened to attention and stuck out his hand formally.
“Director Bonaparte, it is an honor to meet you.”
“Yes, I’m sure it is,” the vulture said dismissively as he shook the British avian’s hand. “This is Agent Jacob Mallard, Agent Mallard, this is Agent Derek Blunt. You two will be working together on the Sharpe case. I’ll give you a few minutes to update Agent Mallard on the situation, and then I’ll expect you both in the laboratory for a briefing with Professor Waddlemeyer.”
“Yes, sir,” Agent Blunt responded rigidly.
Jacob only gave a sharp nod.
Once the door had closed behind the director, the two birds sized one another up. A sneer crossed Blunt’s refined features.
“You don’t look like a respectable agent,” he said critically. “I don’t see why I should even bother working with someone who obviously hasn’t been in the field for long. You should be grateful for the opportunity to learn from a master spy…that is, if I decide to let you tag along.”
“Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you. You don’t seem the type that likes to get his hands dirty. It’s a wonder you’ve made it this far. Their standards must be ridiculously lax overseas.”
They stared each other down for what seemed like hours, neither one flinching under the other’s steely gaze, each determined to break the other so that the dominant one could assume the lead. It wasn’t until they both cracked a smile at the same time that they came to a mutual understanding.
“You’re all right, Mallard.” Agent Blunt chuckled and gave Jacob a hearty slap on the shoulder.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Blunt,” Jacob replied, equally as impressed. “And please, call me Jacob. This ‘Mallard’ business makes me feel like an old man.”
“Have it your way,” Blunt agreed. “Now, about this Sharpe situation…”
It was well past three in the morning when Jacob received an urgent phone call. He had been working with Derek Blunt for months now, and the two were like a well-oiled machine. No criminal mastermind was safe from their ingenuity and daring, and though they had known each other only a short while, they had developed a strong and unique bond that only partners in such a dangerous field could. Derek was quickly becoming more and more like the brother Jacob had lost, and Derek had grown very protective of his comrade.
With a groggy groan, Jacob rolled over in the luxurious hotel bed and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
His croak was met with a dial tone that sounded more like an air horn, and he fumbled to hang up the receiver as the insistent ring sounded again. It wasn’t until the fifth ring that he recognized where the sound was coming from.
He snatched at air twice before he caught the light switch and the bedside lamp flickered on. Without leaving the comfort of bed, he reached down to the floor and sifted through his discarded clothing until he found what he was looking for. The antenna slid easily out of the tip of the sole, and he pressed the bottom of the shoe to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Ah, Agent Mallard. I do hope I didn’t wake you,” came the sarcastic voice of the director.
Jacob’s brow knitted together as sleep doggedly clung to him like a wet towel.
“Not at all, sir,” he said in an equally sarcastic tone. “I was merely in the middle of shamelessly spending government money in fruitless gambling endeavors. I do hope that’s not a problem.”
“Mallard...”
“Only joking. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“Your wife is in labor.”
Jacob was up like a shot, eyes wide open. “What?!”
“She arrived at Saint Canard Memorial two hours ago. I thought you’d like to know.”
“With all due respect, sir, I’d like to be there.”
“Already taken care of. Your plane leaves Madrid in an hour. Tell Blunt to finish the operation solo. I’m sure he’ll do just fine without you weighing him down.”
“Blunt can handle himself. Goodnight, Director.”
In ten minutes, Jacob was on his way to the airport. In another fifteen, he was passing through security. And in another twenty, he was on his way. It took thirteen hours to cross the Atlantic. Unfortunately for Jacob, in that time Gail had delivered a beautiful, healthy baby.
It was two in the afternoon when he finally managed to stumble into the labor unit at Saint Canard Memorial. There were dark bags under his bloodshot eyes, and though his body was dreadfully exhausted, adrenaline was keeping him conscious.
He nearly slammed into the nursing station, and his arms splayed over the counter so that he could stop himself. Pens and files went flying, causing the nurses to gasp in surprise.
“Mallard,” Jacob sputtered tiredly. “Gail Mallard. She’s –" he paused to suck in air, “she’s in labor!”
The head nurse looked at him with a raised eyebrow. It was hard not to chuckle at his disheveled appearance.
“Are you her husband?” she questioned.
Jacob could only nod as he gulped in another lungful of air. He felt like he’d just run the Saint Canard triathlon.
The nurse smiled after scanning a list of patients.
“She’s in the recovery wing. Room 606.”
“Thanks,” he breathed and turned to go. But before he could take another step, he turned around with a quizzical expression. “Recovery? You mean she’s…”
“Already had the baby, yes. I’m sorry, sir.”
His shoulders slumped as the weight of everything crashed down on him. All of a sudden he felt ninety years old.
“Oh…” was all he could muster as he shuffled his way slowly toward the recovery unit.
“Don’t worry!” the nurse called after him. “Mom and baby are both doing fine!”
It wasn’t until he was nearing 601 that it hit him that he was a father. His polished black shoes squeaked against the tile flooring as he stopped dead in his tracks. He had a child. He and Gail were parents…they had a family. A gripping mixture of anxiety, panic, and fear seized him, and he found it strangely hard to draw in breath, as if he had a boulder crushing his chest. His fingers strayed to his wedding band, and he twisted it.
The sound of wheels met his ears, and he glanced up to see a nurse pushing a small cart padded with blankets. When she turned into 606, he swallowed the lump in his throat and stiffly moved forward.
The door had been left open partway, and as the nurse shuffled past him out of the room, he looked in to see his wife sitting up partway in the hospital bed. There was an IV hanging beside her, and in her arms was the tiniest duckling Jacob had ever seen. She was cooing softly to the infant, looking as radiant and beautiful as ever, if a little tired. He was almost afraid to enter the room. It was pure coincidence that Gail happened to lift her head right then and catch her husband’s eye. The smile that lit up every room crept onto her bill, and her eyes brightened.
“Jacob…”
He stayed in the doorway, shifting his weight. “Sorry I missed the big show. Bonaparte didn’t bother giving me the word until –“
“Ssshhh,” she whispered just loudly enough for him to hear. “Come here…come and meet your daughter.”
There were no words to describe the emotions that flooded though him as he slowly approached the bed. Each one was more powerful than the next, each more indiscernible than the previous, and by the time he reached the bedside he’d grown numb. It seemed almost unreal. For years Jacob had held to the belief that this was exactly the kind of thing he never wanted, and yet here he was.
As he gazed down at the newborn, he felt the traces of panic and fear melt away only to be replaced by a different feeling. Love. It swelled his insides so immensely that it almost hurt, but he hardly seemed to notice.
“She’s perfect…” he breathed.
“Would you like to hold her?”
Immediately doubt crossed Jacob’s face, and Gail laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, it’s easy! Here, hold out your arms…”
When his wife had settled their baby into his inexperienced grasp, he leaned over and kissed her forehead.
“How was it?”
“Do you have to ask? I’m just glad it’s over! Your friend John drove me here, and he stayed with me for most of it. He’d probably still be here if he hadn’t been called in to work.”
“John was with you?” he repeated slowly. He would have to remember to thank J. Gander the next time he saw him.
Gail laughed again. “Well, he nearly fainted a few times, but he did very well. I think the doctors were more worried for him than for me!”
Silence settled over them, and both parents’ eyes rested on their beautiful baby girl. Briefly the duckling opened her eyes and stared up at her father before closing them again. Gail smiled.
“She has your eyes…”
Jacob hadn’t thought he could swell any more with pride, but somehow he managed.
“Jacob…?” Gail asked, her tone a little more urgent.
“Hm?”
“I didn’t name her yet…I wanted to wait for you.”
“Okay.”
“I like the name Carolyn.”
Jacob couldn’t recall a single girl he’d dated with that name, and that was decidedly a good thing. He kept the arm supporting his daughter still and he lifted his free hand to run a finger gently over the baby’s cheek.
“I like it,” he said. “It suits her….”
“What about a middle name?”
Jacob was quiet only for a second. He knew the perfect one.
“Hadia.”
“Hadia?” Gail repeated. “I’ve never heard that name before…it’s lovely…”
Making sure to keep a firm but gentle hold of the infant, Jacob reached over and pulled one of the chairs over by the bedside so that he could sit on the edge of the chair and be nearer his wife.
“Here, I’d better feed her. That’s why the nurse brought her in, after all,” said Gail, sliding the baby out of Jacob’s arms and onto her lap. She untied the top part of her hospital gown, and as Jacob watched Gail slide so easily into her role as a mother, he couldn’t help but admire her. He wondered if he could do equally well in the role of father… But something told him that the road to hell was paved with good intentions.