Kaleidoscope Eyes Pt. 03

****

Dr. Bashmira was the surgeon's name, and he gave us the rundown on the damage Ruthanne had sustained and what steps he and his surgery team had taken to mitigate it all.

Acknowledging that she was Ruthanne's mother, and nearest relation at this moment, Naomi convinced the doctor to give us—her, technically, with me standing within earshot—the details. We all wanted to know how she was and what the prognosis for her recovery might be.

Dr. Bashmira indicated that the bullet had not fragmented and he had been able to get it out of her intact. There had been some damage to soft tissues, but none of Ruthanne's organs had been damaged. He stopped and was hesitant for a moment. He was obviously uncomfortable with what he had to say next.

"I apologize if what I say seems a bit odd, but..." the doctor finally took a breath and continued, "Did your daughter appear to have any unusual or strange inclinations involving ... intimate activities, or indicate unusual desires or sudden urges?"

I nodded at Naomi and she said, "There may have been some instances where my daughter indicated that she seemed to need more male attention that some of us in the family may have thought was usual, or advised." Naomi was blushing now. "Why do you ask, Doctor?"

"Well," the doctor responded, still a bit sheepishly, "we ran some lab tests and we confirmed abnormal levels of certain neurotransmitters, such as serotonin, norepinephrine, and dopamine in her system; and these have been known to lead to... uhm... compulsive behaviors... uhm... of a sexual nature?" He turned that last statement into a question; I guess, in order to ensure that we got his unstated meaning. We both just nodded our understanding.

"We also removed an ovarian cyst that we found during the pre-op scans. Due to the growth's being estrogenic, some ovarian cysts can cause hypersensitivity, also contributing to odd compulsory behaviors; and also associated with markedly increased female sexual inclinations," he concluded.

From there on, Dr. Bashmira droned on with a litany of all the treatments and medications that she was receiving and gave us rather vague statements to manage our expectations concerning Ruthanne's chances of complete recovery.

After he turned to go, we were approached by a lady who handled the hospital's administrative side of things. She was accompanied by a Newport News Police Officer, who waited until she was through before he informed us that he needed some information for his formal report concerning the gunshot wound to Ruthanne; actually, a normal requirement for any patient entering the hospital with a GSW, as the Police called it.

After Naomi and I gave the Officer a rundown of what had happened and mentioned the involvement of so many agencies associated with the joint law enforcement task force operation going on in the Southside counties and towns, he nodded and got on his cell phone. After hanging up, he settled for just the basics, saying that his Department would be able to get more details later from all the Police reports flowing in.

****

The next time that I saw Darryl Crawford, he was on the evening news a couple of days later, standing behind the head muckety-muck of the law enforcement joint task force. You know how they array the real heroes in the back while the bureaucrat with either a heady ambition to be the next U.S. Attorney General, or at least get a big promotion, gets to brief the press? This press conference was for the purpose of releasing the public version of events.

I found out more of the real, non-public, story over beer a couple of weekends later when Darryl was finally able to come and visit me with his brother, Sandy, and we charred some steaks together.

As it turned out, the criminal enterprise in the Virginia Southside counties and towns took a major hit. Over thirty criminals were arrested for involvement in drug operations involving diversion of opioids and movement of illegal substances, such as cocaine and Fentanyl. Eighteen physicians in the area were at least detained and questioned, if not arrested outright, for contributing to the criminal support to the opioid crisis. Other criminals were either currently under arrest or being pursued on charges related to human trafficking operations, one of the effects being the freeing from the criminal guards, yet the detention by Federal agents for resolving immigration issues, of over forty women between the ages of nineteen and twenty-five from south of the U.S. border. The FBI and DEA were also pursuing ties to drug and other organized crime enterprises farther north.

Dennis Chancey had been arrested without any resistance. He had been coked out of his head in a side room of one of his warehouses; a naked illegal immigrant woman in her mid-twenties at his feet, giving him head, as Sheriff's Deputies had burst in. Meanwhile, State Police Officers and Agents of the Immigration and Customs Enforcement had taken charge of the other women in the warehouse, ensuring first their safety, then checking their health status, before the inevitable steps required to process them for immigration irregularities.

Hamp Wells had been taken away in the custody of his childhood friend, Deputy Sheriff Sam Chaves, and was awaiting trial.

Boyd Simon, on the night of the beginning of the takedown, had been treated for his gunshot wound on the spot by EMTs from Greensville County Fire Department. Later, he had undergone surgery at the nearest regional hospital. The doctors fixed the moderate flesh tear across the bottom of his dick and saved his right testicle, but Naomi's bullet had destroyed his left testicle. He was under arrest in the hospital where he was now recuperating. Once he became well enough to stand trial, he was facing over forty years in prison just on the charges being mounted against him by the Commonwealth's Attorney. The Feds were standing by to hit him with prosecution on Federal charges once the Virginia courts had completed their actions.

****

As we had waited for our first opportunity to see Ruthanne after her surgery the next morning after the big takedown, Naomi had gotten on the phone to find about Mara and her well-being. With Naomi's permission and blessing, I got my mom energized to assist in getting the four-year-old out of government custody and care, and across the water to the Peninsula to join Mara's grandmother and me. Also, so that Mara could be on hand to see her mother, once Ruthanne was allowed to have visitors.

I was surprised when Mom came into the area where Naomi and I were awaiting word concerning our first opportunity to see Ruthanne. Almost running as she pulled on Mom's hand was my beautiful little darling, Mara.

Yes, I was even more resigned to the fact that Mara was my daughter, conceived out of a passion that had been based on almost-instant love. The little girl's existence had been hidden from me by circumstances, but now, I was determined that she would have me in her life as her father, in whatever role Ruthanne would allow for me to be, that is.

"Grandma!" shouted Mara as she approached, pulling Mom almost into a trot. "Look who I am with! I gotta 'nother Grandma!"

I raised my smiling face from Mara to look at my mother with a questioning expression.

"Well," huffed Mom, "you didn't expect me to be able to keep it a secret; did you?"

I chuckled and hugged Mom before squatting down to the level of my newly-discovered daughter. She had been hugging Naomi, without letting Mom's hand go. Now, Mara turned to me as I squatted.

"Hey," was all she said as she blushed, grinned, and buried her face in Naomi's thigh for a few seconds. She looked up at Naomi, who turned her toward me with a grin. Then, Mara opened her eyes wide and her mouth took the shape of an 'O' for a second and she said, "You gots eyes like me!"

"Mara, Sweetie; this is your daddy, your REAL daddy," said Naomi, almost sounding triumphant in the process.

Mara hesitated for a moment. All at once, her face lit up and she almost leaped into my arms.

****

Ruthanne may have looked like shit to the average person seeing her for the first time after she had awakened following emergency surgery and was allowed to receive visitors, but she looked like an angel to me.

Naomi and Mara did not care how she looked, either. Naomi fawned over Ruthanne, asking all sorts of questions, while Mara had to be restrained from leaping from my arms onto the recovering Ruthanne's bed.

"You..." began Ruthanne; then she coughed until a nurse gave her a sip of water through a straw. Finally able to talk, Ruthanne cleared her throat.

"You saved me," Ruthanne declared as she gazed at me. "Thank you. And, thank you for getting Mama and Mara out of all of that."

I was finally able to get Naomi to hold a squirming Mara and I leaned over to give Ruthanne a smile and a squeeze of the hand.

"Actually, Sweetheart," I said in as loving a tone as possible, "you saved me!"

Ruthanne took that opportunity to pull my head down, after figuring out which arm was not festooned with IVs, and we shared our first real lover's kiss since this had all started.

****

Three weeks later, at Mom's place in Norfolk, where Ruthanne had been staying since her release from the hospital, we had our first real conversation about the 'what next' aspect of our possible relationship.

"Russ," said Ruthanne as we sat outside behind Mom's place in the historic, and very affluent, Ghent section of Norfolk, "I want you to know that I very definitely want for us to see each other. And I don't mean as if you were an ex doing visitation with your daughter. I want for us to see if we can reignite the fire that you started burning in me when you first spoke to me through that order window at the Dairy Queen that first night."

"Sweetie," I said, with what I hoped was an encouraging smile. "That would be ideal for me, too, but it has been five years, now. Add to that the fact that you still need to recover physically and emotionally from all that you have been through."

When I had used the "E" word, Ruthanne had frowned.

"You mean, you want to make sure that I am over being the biggest slut on the face of the earth; right?" I saw tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

"After all," Ruthanne now said with a touch of bitterness, "I am just so much spoiled goods after fucking so many guys; right?"

"Ruthanne," I said, hoping to sound supportive, "you are not spoiled; you were ill. The doctors even said that you were suffering from several factors that could lead to what would be clinically-documented symptoms of nymphomania.

"I mean, consider the previous elevated levels of those sex-encouraging neurotransmitters in your system, that ovarian cyst that gave you such sexual hypersensitivity, and then the emotional traumas associated with both times that Boyd and his 'Amigos' gang-raped you.

"Honey," I now looked as lovingly as I could into her beautiful hazel eyes, "I want both of us to be sure that you are well, not only in the eyes of the docs that you are seeing; but when you look at yourself in the mirror as well."

"Yeah," Ruthanne said, still with some skepticism, "but even if we can get to that point; how can you forget the fact that I have had so many strange cocks stuck IN me that, if they all stuck OUT of me, I would look like a cock cactus?"

"Hey," I said, pulling her into a hug, as I detected that she was about to start crying again. "I understand. Believe me when I say that I understand that you were really not yourself during that time. You just have to have faith in me and my determination to see that you get better.

"And," I said, "There is the matter of your still being a married woman to consider. Call me old fashioned, but I still believe that we need to wait until that is settled so that we may freely pursue our feelings for each other."

Okay, so I was a sap to wait, but even with that archaic view toward marriage, I figured that, during the time it took for Ruthanne's divorce from Boyd to be finalized, she would have ample opportunity to get farther along with her therapy sessions with her counselors. Then, we could possibly proceed as a real couple, with no restrictions on developing our deeper relationship.

****

Ruthanne, using one of the lawyers that Mom recommended, did file for divorce from Boyd. He was served in his cell while awaiting trial. I heard later that he ranted and raved for a bit, but finally signed the papers and threw them at his attorney.

In most divorce cases in Virginia, you have to live separately for a year to qualify for a divorce, have no minor children, and have executed a separation agreement. Meeting those criteria, you can be divorced in six months. Even though Ruthanne and Boyd did not fit that set of rules exactly, given Boyd's situation involving his expected long incarceration—and given the backstage influence of a sitting member of the Virginia House of Delegates—yeah, I called on Dad again—the presiding judge allowed the process to proceed and be processed in just over six months.

During that time, we all saw a marked change in Ruthanne. She became steadily more optimistic and positive about herself. She would never forget the depravities to which she had subjected herself while under the influences of her bad physical and emotional health, but she acquired and used some very effective coping mechanisms to get herself on a more positive track for the future; hopefully, a future that included me.

Ruthanne's counselors and doctors finally declared that she had come to terms with what had happened to her in the past, and how her condition had not really been her fault, nor the consequences of deliberate actions on her part. At that point, she began to respond more to the idea that she could in fact settle into a somewhat normal long-term relationship with me.

Needless to say, with both of them coming from prominent Virginia families, it took some convincing to get my parents to come on board with my plans. The angelic smile of Mara helped melt Mom's heart and allowed her to be accepting, if not positive, to the addition of Ruthanne and Mara to the family at some time in the future. Dad, of course, held out for a bit—until he could be sure that there were no political repercussions to him, I am sure. Naw! He was not that politically jaded. Mara finally got to him, as well.

When Naomi informed Pastor Johnson Pettigrew Norwood of what had transpired in his absence that critical weekend, he immediately came to see Ruthanne in the hospital upon his return to the area. There, I met him, as well. He was aware of who I was by virtue of having heard the story from Ruthanne back on that first weekend five years earlier. Weeks later, after Ruthanne and Mara had settled in at Mom's, and we had begun to speak about a possible future, he seemed to be accepting of anything that would promote the well-being of his daughter and granddaughter.

****

For my part, I was not just sitting around and waiting for Ruthanne during those months required for the divorce to be finalized. I was getting acquainted with our daughter in a big way. There were trips to the zoo and the botanical gardens in Norfolk, carriage rides through historic Colonial Williamsburg, and a fun weekend at Busch Gardens theme park, and, of course, the beach: Virginia Beach, that is.

Naomi often accompanied us, along with her husband. I found him to be a truly gracious and peaceful man who had been placed in an unenviable position by the truly evil Simons, both Lamar and Boyd.

As peaceful as he appeared, he was not as passive as one would have expected of a country pastor. He had made sure that both he and Naomi were trained and licensed to carry concealed weapons in Virginia and had purchased handguns for both of them; not to take active steps against the Simons, but just in case they were needed as a last resort for self-defense.

Anyway, shortly after the six-month point in the divorce process, when the final decree of Ruthanne's divorce from Boyd appeared as if it would finally materialize, we, as well as her family members and mine, realized that she and I had been falling in love with each other again—or really just reigniting a love that had never truly died.

Even before the decree was issued, I asked Ruthanne if she would marry me once things were settled, and, yes, I DID ask her father for permission first; after all, "This hyeah's Virginia." Instead of squealing in delight and hopping up and down, Ruthanne breathed a sigh of relief, pulled me to her for a tender and loving kiss, and simply said, "Russ, I have been waiting forever to hear those words from you. Yes, I will marry you."

"Now, I need to talk to both our mothers about the wedding plans," she said as she turned to go into the next room, where the two mothers were watching Mara.

THEN, I heard her squealing with delight and hopping around. My mother and my future mother-in-law were very agitated; and vocal as well.

****

For our honeymoon, we spent a week in a small bed and breakfast in the Shenandoah Valley near Harrisonburg. We had a glorious time together.

Several months later, we took Mara with us and went to Great Wolf Lodge in Asheville, NC. Yeah, it was a bit pricey for what we got, but it was a great place for us to begin the life together of our family.

Mara was thrilled with the water park that was a major part of the resort. She also enjoyed the organized entertainment geared for the kids.

Ruthanne and I connected more as a married couple and as parents on that trip, as well. During the days, we enjoyed the beautiful Smokey Mountains visible from our balcony; as well as trips to the Biltmore House and Gardens. During the nights, we learned to love each other more earnestly and intimately in our king size bed; thanks to Mara's exhaustion from the day's outings and her almost mechanically-precise predilection for an early bedtime and uninterrupted slumber until at least seven the next morning.

A good time was had by all. All too soon, we had to get back to reality. I had to get back to work, and Ruthanne had to get busy attending community college and preparing herself for the first time entering the work force since her teenage Dairy Queen days.

As a responsible mom, Ruthanne drove the new Honda CR-V that we had gotten her. It was more appropriate than the 'Slutmobile' version of the Z/28 that she had driven months earlier, and that we had sold for cash to CarMax.

****

In Yogi-speak, it was like déjà vu all over again. This time, it was after we had settled into our new house in King's Mill just outside of Williamsburg and had begun to establish the routine of a new family that had just moved in.

I had gone to bed earlier than usual, after returning from a trip to Fort Rucker, Alabama, where the Army's Aviation Center of Excellence had its headquarters. I had been visiting with Sandy and my Fort Eustis site lead, Jim Hasty, as we learned from the training developers how they were planning to modify the periods of instruction needed to train and qualify the latest crop of Fifteen Romeos for working on the newest mods to the Apache attack helicopter.

I was slightly roused from my sleep, but not completely awake when I heard someone at our bedroom door. The slight tap and click was all it took for me to become completely awake and aware that someone was coming into our bedroom!

I did not feel any threat this time, and thus, no need to reach for my Kimber Micro 9 handgun when I recognized the poorly-lit, but discernible, outline of a woman and realized immediately that it was my loving wife, Ruthanne.

She allowed the door to close quietly behind her and then paused, listening for my breathing to determine if I had awakened. As I had many months earlier, I smiled to myself and attempted to breathe with a typical sound of someone still completely under; and I did not move.