The Eighth Sister (Charles Jenkins #1)(96)

“I heard some of the fishermen talking. They said you were arrested the morning those men in suits came. They said they were FBI agents and you were a traitor. It isn’t true, is it?”

“Come here for a second.” CJ came down the stairs. Jenkins sat on the arm of the couch and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I was arrested, but the part about me selling secrets and betraying my country isn’t true, CJ. I promise you it isn’t.”

“Then why would they say it?”

Jenkins sighed. “A lot of things that are happening right now are going to be hard for you to understand. But I’m looking you in the eyes and I’m telling you it isn’t true. I want to show you something.” Jenkins removed the sterling silver bracelet from his wrist and turned it over so CJ could read the engraving. “Mom gave me this. Can you read what she had inscribed?”

CJ moved the bracelet to catch the light, reading slowly. “‘Then you will know the truth, and the truth shall set you free. John 8:32.’”

“As long as we know the truth, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. Do you understand?”

CJ nodded. “I think so.”

“Things could get ugly around here. There could be more people saying more bad things about your dad.”

“I won’t believe them,” CJ said.

CJ went to his room to get his math book, and Jenkins walked down the hall to their bedroom and pushed open the door. Alex was not in bed. He heard the bathroom fan humming behind the closed door. Alex had to pee just about every ten minutes.

“Alex?” He walked to the bathroom.

She didn’t answer.

He knocked three times. “Alex?”

When she didn’t answer, he tried the door handle and pushed on the door. Something on the other side obstructed it. He stuck his head between the gap. Alex lay on the floor, her bathrobe bunched about her waist. She looked to have fainted. Beneath her, a pool of blood had smeared the white tiles.



Jenkins watched Sloane and Jake enter the hospital waiting room. Jake stepped to a chair where CJ sat, looking scared. “CJ, what do you say we go find the cafeteria and get some food for everybody?”

CJ shook his head and looked up at his father. “I’m not hungry.”

Jenkins put a hand on the boy’s back. “Mom’s in with the doctors,” Jenkins said. “And they’re taking good care of her. You go with Jake. I promise I’ll call if I hear anything from the doctors.”

Jake wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders and led him out of the room and down the hall.

“How’s he doing?” Sloane asked.

“He heard the fishermen talking about me being a traitor. Now this. It’s a lot to ask of a nine-year-old.”

“Yeah, it is,” Sloane said. “What are the doctors saying?”

“She lost a lot of blood. I just checked with the nurse. She said I should hear from the doctor any minute.”

Sloane pointed to Jenkins’s right hand, which had started to shake. “How long have you had that shake?”

Jenkins flexed his hand. “Since I first went to Russia.”

“It’s not Parkinson’s, is it?”

“No. It’s anxiety. I’m not as young as I once was . . . And I have a lot more to lose.”

The doctor walked into the waiting room dressed in surgical gear. “Mr. Jenkins, you have a healthy baby girl.”

“What?” Jenkins said, overwhelmed but also relieved. Sloane gripped his shoulder.

“We delivered the baby,” the doctor said. “I’m sorry, but we had to act quickly.”

A girl. He had a baby girl. “How’s Alex? How’s my wife?”

“She’s weak and she’s tired, but all her vitals are strong and getting better. We’re replenishing lost blood. She’s anxious to see you.”

“I’ll call Jake and CJ and let them know,” Sloane said.

Jenkins followed the doctor down the corridor and through several swinging doors. Alex was in the third room of the ICU unit with nurses huddled around her bed. She looked pale and tired, but she smiled.

Jenkins kissed her atop the forehead, whispering, “How’re you doing?”

“I’m tired but I’m okay,” Alex said, her voice weak. “Better now that you’re here. Did you see your daughter?”

In the bassinet beside the bed, the top of a pink beanie poked out from a white blanket with pink stripes.

“Not exactly the birth we planned,” Alex whispered.

“Not exactly,” Jenkins said, mesmerized at the tiny creature in the bassinet. “She’s so little. I don’t remember CJ being that little.”

“He wasn’t,” Alex said. “But the doctor says she’s fine, just a little jaundiced, but that should clear up in a couple of days. Hold your daughter.”

Jenkins picked up the bundle. She fit in his hand, from the tips of his long fingers to just past his wrist. He cradled her to his chest. “Hey, little girl.” He felt his heart soar as he said it, and he was filled with conflicting emotions. He wanted to hold her close so that no one could ever hurt her, but he also worried that he would not be there to protect her.

“What about a name?” Alex said. They’d decided not to find out the sex, just as with CJ, and early on they’d toyed with several girls’ and boys’ names, but with everything happening, they hadn’t had a chance to come to a consensus. “I thought we could name her after your mother.”