NUMB by Judy Colella (the best books to read .txt) đ
- Author: Judy Colella
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The woman was nodding, smiling at them both. When she asked her next question, Jett was able to interpret the look that went with it, the look that everyone got when asking if he and his brother were twins.
Atarah was shaking her head âno,â confirming his conclusion, adding a few words which she interpreted for him. âI explained you werenât twins but close in age, then asked her where my son was.â
Lud smiled at the brothers and went into another room.
No one spoke during the few seconds she was gone, Jett pulling his wife close, staring hard at the door through which the woman had disappeard. A moment later Lud returned, and in her arms was a sleeping bundle, his cherubic features flushed with the rosiness of good health, his dark hair slightly curly. He made a tiny sigh as the woman handed him to Atarah.
âJett, this is Chasin, our son.â
With all her talk about being alive, Nightmare Atarah had never said anything about a childâŠthe real Atarah was holding the baby out to him, and he gathered the small miracle to his chest, holding him with a version of love heâd never imagined existed, and grateful beyond measure for the doctors at Bluebird Foundation who had kept him alive. A tear landed on a fold of the babyâs blanket, but it took a few seconds for Jett to recognize it as his, to realize he was crying.
âOh, my dearest Jett,â Atarah whispered. âI have missed you so much! And thereâs so much to tell you, to explain. I â are you all right? You havenât said a word this whole time.â
Taking a shaky breath, Jett looked over at Jax, raising an eyebrow. She didnât know, of course. But how to tell her? With great reluctance, he handed his son back to Atarah, then signed to Jax that he could fill her in on some of it, that the rest would have to wait until later.
Jax paused, his look telling Jett that he was trying to interpreting the gestures. Then his expression cleared and he said, âHe canât speak, âTarah. His vocal chords were badly damaged, and yeah, he can make sounds, kind of like a rough whisper, but it hurts him a lot to do that.â
âWh- why? What happened? Was he in an accident?â
âNo, you were. He had to find a way to deal with that, with believing you were dead. Weâll tell you the rest later, though. Right now, I think we need to get out of here. The FBI gave us a special kind of dispensation or something by allowing us to be in on your rescue, but I get the impression they donât want it generally known that weâre here.â
âHeâs right, maâam,â said a man who had come to the open door.
âOh. I see.â Atarah nodded, turned to the woman who had agreed to watch Chasin and gave her a fierce hug that almost woke up the baby, whispering something into Ludâs ear as she did that made the womanâs eyes fill with tears.
She patted Atarahâs back and nodded as they separated.
Jett went her, gave her a hug and a kiss on the top of her greying head. âThank you, Lud.â
The others had gone out; Jett put an arm around Atarah and followed the group, gazing more frequently at Chasin than where he was goin. When theyâd gotten back to the second floor, the doctorâs body, now encased in a black body-bag, was being loaded onto a stretcher in preparation to being brought downstairs.
âI have a question for you, maâam.â The agent who had gone upstairs to find them gave Atarah an almost apologetic look. âUh, who shot the doctor? Was it you?â
Looking horrified, Atarah said, âMy God, no! No, it was another doctor, uh, Chevon. She was an associate of Kobienkoâs. I think I should finish explaining about her when weâre back at whatever place it is youâre going to take us for â what did you call it that first time we spoke?â
âDebriefing.â
âThat.â
âVery well.â
When they stepped out onto the street, they were greeted by a small fleet of shiny black SUVs. As they began to get in, Jax stopped.
âDonât you want to take anything from the apartment?â
âNo. I had nothing of value except Chasin. Right now, I just want to get this all behind us and go back home.â
Jett nodded beside her â he couldnât have agreed more.
******
âDamn reporters.â
Bryson gave his wife a startled look. Hadnât she said exactly the same thing a little over two years ago when they were at the same airport waiting for Jett and Atarah to return from their honeymoon? Well, he couldnât disagree with the sentiment. âAt least they wonât be bothering Jax and his wife, since theyâre here hoping to see Chasin.â
âFools.â
âThey are, but this is what they do.â Bry took a deep breath and looked around the terminal, thinking about what had brought them there this time. After returning from Russia, Jax had gotten back in touch with Ondine, and within no time at all, everyone knew that Atarahâs lovely best friend was crazy in love with Jettâs older brother. The reporters had gone into a tizzy over it, but none of their reactions over this news had come even close to the frenzy over the announcement that Atarah Kinsley was both alive and a mother.
Scandal papers had run weeks of headlines speculating about the ârealâ father of Chasin, some of their writers going so far as to print all kinds of fictional accounts of a âlove nestâ in the Russian countryside, going into insane and imaginary details about how Atarah had fallen in love with her abductor in a classic case of Stockholm Syndrome. This might have continued a lot longer, but Jax had paid a visit to the offices of the paper that had been the worst offender. No one who wasnât present at that meeting knew what had been said, but the stories had suddenly stopped.
One of these days, Iâm going to get him to tell me what he did. Bryson was still a tad miffed that the only one Jax told what had happened there was Jett, and he wasnât sharing it with anyone, either.
Another development, the cause of which Bryson was waiting for the media to discover, was that stories about Jett and Atarah, which might have continued where theyâd left off before her presumed death, had all but stopped because Jett was no longer speaking with them. Heâd wave, smile, even pantomime a pleasant greeting from time to time, but there were no actual words. Perhaps the reporters figured he simply didnât feel like shouting over the noise of all the questions being barked at him. Eventually, though, they had to recognize that the reason for his silence was not what any of them had concluded.
This had spawned new stories. New speculation. And the whole time, they did whatever they could to snap pictures of the sweet-faced little boy Atarah had brought home â Brysonâs beloved grandson. By the time Chasin was a year and a half, Bry knew no one could reasonably continue to wonder if the father was Jett. The little boy had gotten enough of his famous fatherâs characteristics and features that his genetics were unquestionable.
And then word had gotten out that Jettâs big brother wasnât just dating Ondine, but was going to marry Atarahâs best friend. New frenzy. Not as big a reaction as all the breathless wonder over the decathlete, but it was nothing if not interesting. However, the mediaâs presence at the airport this time wasnât because of any great desire to see the latest honeymoon couple, but to see his nephew, Jettâs little boy, who had become the newest darling of paparazzi the world over. I wouldnât be surprised if they were still running after us five generations from now.
âIt doesnât matter, love,â Bryson said. âJett is on his way to the Olympic Training Camp with Atarah and Chasin, while these blithering dummies are tripping over themselves trying to catch a glimpse of them here.â
âServes them right.â She smirked at the nearest blithering dummy who was trying to snap a picture of her; Celia, Bry could see, was so not in the mood for this. Theyâd let it be known that Jax and Ondine would be arriving shortly, and all Bryson and his wife wanted to do was get them home. Jax had bought a house and would be moving back out of state, but for the next week, at least, Jax and their newest daughter-in-law would be their guests. They didnât need the media there, too.
The loudspeakers blared out the information that Flight 235 was about to land at Gate 7. Only half the reporters rushed forward, the other half heading for Gate 6, having apparently remembered the sneaky ploy the Kinsleys had used the last time.
âThink theyâll figure out what weâre doing?â he asked, taking Celiaâs arm.
âProbably, but like last time, too late to do anything about it.â She giggled as they went to the lounge upstairs where their older son and his wife were waiting for the helicopter to land on the roof of the terminal and take them all to the smaller, private airport several miles away where a car had been arranged for them.
âShould be here any moment.â Celiaâs smile was one of delight as she looked on the couple. âI never thought to see Jax married, much less to someone as sweet and beautiful as you, Ondine.â She embraced the delicate young lady, adding, âI, for one, need a nap. I expect you two are pretty worn out, too.â
âWeâre okay, Mom.â Jax stood and stretched. âYou can doze off on the way home, if you have to â we donât need to be entertained.â
âNo, Iâm sure you donât.â
Overhead, the pulsing drone of a chopper alerted them to the arrival of their ride; the four Kinsleys headed for the stairwell leading to the roof. As soon as they were inside, Bryson shut and locked the door behind them in case some reporter with a few more brain cells than the others figured out the purpose of the helicopter. Grinning, he went to his seat and strapped himself in. âSuccess once again!â he crowed over the sound of the whirling blades.
From joy to tragedy, from tragedy to a long, dark time of sadness, from sadness to hope, and from hope to a sparkling series of joyful days, Brysonâs inner philosopher intoned. He closed his eyes, head back against he seat. Content, he couldnât allow himself to believe that everything was going to be sitcom-happy-ending great forever, but was determined to hold tight to every moment ahead that was.
*******
As the Kinsleys had boarded the helicopter, several of the reporters had looked up from the parking lot where theyâd gone as soon as they realized Jax and his bride were not on the plane. Among them, a woman stared up at the roof, the fur of her collar blowing against her low-cut bodice.
âWhat do you make of that?â a man beside her asked, pointing.
The woman didnât answer, but smiled, and the man suddenly wanted to get far away from her. He couldnât have said why, exactly, just that there was something grotesque about that smileâŠ
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