15 December 1997 - Main Street, Clinton, Massachusetts

“ ... after you block your opponent here, you want to follow with a strike here, Emily. An opponent throwing a punch like that will often be overextended, off-balance and vulnerable. Action, reaction; cause and effect. Just as you’ve been learning for some time. Understand?”

“Hai, senpai,” she replied.

“Good. You’ll be ready to test for your own black belt soon I would imagine.”

“Maybe. You know how strict Dad is.”

“True,” Jeff replied. He caught someone staring at Emily and him out of the corner of his eye. “I think you’ve got an admirer, Emily.” Jeff flicked his eyes to the person in question and back.

“Tall for someone my age, thin, brown hair?”

“Yep.”

“Ben.”

“Yep, Mr. Mattson.”

“I think he’s had a crush on me since we started karate together seven years ago at our old dojo in Bolton.”

“Did he follow you over here?”

“He lives over on Mill Street here in Clinton; our dojo is more convenient for him so, no, not really. He’s a good student, serious.”

“Sounds like you like him, too.”

Emily blushed. “He’s nice,” she replied in a quiet voice while looking down and kicking at the mat.

Jeff smiled at the young lady in front of him. “I don’t envy your Dad. Let’s get back with the rest of the class.”

“What did Carl say when you told him?” Jeff asked. “Carl” was Carl Hammond, the principal of Devens Regional High.

“There is not much he could say, Jeffrey, not legally. Carl would not in any event; he was very pleased with my performance in the classroom last year before the boys were born. I received many positive comments from many of my students and their parents, as well. Given that my due date for this pregnancy is after the end of the school year, I do not foresee any issues in that arena.”

“No issues with the teacher’s union or anyone because you don’t have your tenure yet?”

“It is called ‘professional status’ now, Jeffrey. And, no, since I should be able to complete the current school year there should not be any issues.”

“Well whatever it’s called ... we all set for our guests tomorrow?”

“Yes, we are ready.”

“Hey, Heather, how are you?”

“Whatever, buddy. Where are my nephews?” Heather asked while pushing past Jeff the following morning. Jeff stared in disbelief at her retreating back until she disappeared around a corner.

“Well, that makes it official,” TC muttered as he stepped through the front door. “You are chopped liver.”

“I guess so. How are you, Reb?”

“Just fine, thanks. I think you know these folks with me?”

“I sure do. It’s been far too long.”

“I agree, Jeff,” Jean Pelley said, giving him a hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “You look great!”

“So do you and the good doctor, Mrs. Pelley.” Jeff shook hands with TC’s father. “And this young lady must be Mackenzie! Hi, Mackenzie!” The almost two year-old tucked her face into her mother’s shoulder. “She’s a cutie. You two are in for a bunch of trouble when she grows up!” he told her parents.

“Don’t I know it,” Travis Newcomb muttered. “I’m already working on my speech to her first date; that’ll be when she’s thirty, by the way.”

“Hi, Jeff,” Miranda said, kissing him on the cheek.

“Let me take your coats, everyone, then we’ll try to track down my family and my former sister.”

“We can’t keep them?” Jean asked. “It’s kind of cold out there.”

“It is? It’s like forty out today! You’ll see someone riding their bike in shorts while drinking an iced coffee today I’m sure!” The folks from Dixie looked at him like he’d just grown another head. “Seriously, we’ve got radiant heating everywhere on the first floor; you guys should be fine. Come on in.”

Jeff led his friend’s family into the kitchen where Heather and Keiko were talking. The boys were in their high chairs enjoying a snack; they looked at the newcomers when they approached. “Ol’ Blue Eyes on the left is Alexander Kenji; his brother, to the right, is named Ryan Isoroku.”

“How old are they now?” Jean asked.

“They just turned nine months old.”

“They seem to like their Cheerios, that’s for sure.”

“They like anything edible placed in front of them, Miranda. Don’t get too close while they’re eating or you might lose an arm.”

“Jeffrey! That is a terrible thing to say about your sons!”

“Keiko, when was the last time you saw them turn their noses up at anything we’ve served them? They’re healthy eaters! I’d rather have them be vacuum cleaners than not eat at all.”

Travis drifted away from the group and into the living room. He checked out the view through the large windows before turning back to the interior of the house. A framed photo on the far wall caught his attention, as did the black ribbon across the top corner. He studied the image before returning to the kitchen.

“Keiko, what are the boys’ names again? Their middle names?”

“‘Kenji’ and ‘Isoroku.’ Why do you ask, Travis?”

“So your brother was named ‘Kenji Isoroku Takahashi?’”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I’m a mathematician, Keiko; two plus two usually equals four. I saw your brother’s photo in the living room. Given the boys’ birth order, their middle names, and your brother’s last name from his uniform it made sense.”

“Did Thomas tell you about Ken?”

“Only that your brother was Jeff’s roommate at Fort Bragg and he’d been killed in the Gulf War. He never told us his full name.”

“Ken was Jeffrey’s roommate for nearly three years; he taught Jeffrey to speak Japanese and introduced us to each other after my graduation from high school in 1989. His death in 1991 left a large wound which will never fully heal for any in my family, Jeffrey included.”

“TC, we’ve spoken about this since you came to our wedding,” Jeff mentioned to his friend. “While I can’t ever know what you went through after Ricky’s death in Panama, I know something of the pain you experienced then since I’ve had to live through losing my best friend as well.” Jeff turned back to TC’s parents. “That’s why I think it was so easy for me to welcome TC as a friend when he showed up in ‘96, because I understood to some extent.”

“We’re just happy you were finally able to reconnect, Jeff,” Dr. Pelley said.

“Heather, Jeffrey tells me that you and Thomas have chosen a date for your wedding?”

“It’ll be October third next year; that’s the first weekend of the month. We’re hoping to catch the peak of the Valley’s foliage from the overlook of the Cliffside.”

Jeff let out a low whistle. “The Cliffside, huh? Not the Inn on the Common in Greenwich?”

“Greenwich Common is pretty but we love the view from the Cliffside looking east, especially in the fall,” Heather said.

“Speaking of pretty, this house is pretty impressive,” Miranda said when the conversation began to wane.

“Would you guys like the nickel tour?” Jeff asked. Everyone but Jean and Keiko said they’d like to see the house; Jean and Mackenzie stayed with Keiko and the boys while Jeff led the rest of the guests through the house.

“The rest of the house is certainly as impressive as the downstairs, Mom,” Miranda said upon their return to the kitchen.

Jeff pulled a platter of burger patties from the refrigerator and placed it on the counter. “Do you think Mackenzie would want a hot dog or a burger, Travis?”

“Hot dog,” said four adults at once. All of the adults laughed.

“We’ll have simple cookout stuff for lunch while we get caught up,” Jeff said. “We’ll teach you folks how to eat a lobster later today.”

“Hey, partner! Happy New Year!” Shawna chirped from the side door of Paramedic Thirty-one.

“Hey, Shawna, how are you on this first day of 1998?”

“Ready to go pick up all those folks who over-imbibed last night!”

“We shouldn’t see those folks for a couple of hours. Hopefully we won’t see them at all, but if we’re lucky they won’t call until we’ve had our second cups of coffee each.”

“We should be so lucky. Hey, hand me some gloves, a bottle of peroxide and a towel would you?”

“What do you see?” Jeff asked, handing her the requested items.

Shawna didn’t answer but poured the peroxide on the floor; where she poured was a thin metal plate designed to stop the wheels of the stretcher from wearing a hole in the floor. The peroxide ran under the edge of the plate and immediately began to foam a pinkish color flecked with black.

“Okay, that’s gross,” Shawna muttered.

“They did have that stabbing last night,” referring to the crew they’d relieved. “Aaron and Tim cleaned it as well as they were able, but I guess I know what we’re doing today.”

“Happy New Year!”

They called dispatch to explain what they needed to do, and an extra paramedic truck was sent to the Medford line to give them some coverage while they cleaned. Borrowing a mop from Engine Five’s crew, Shawna and Jeff finished re-cleaning the floor of Thirty-one in only five minutes; there were benefits to being based at a fire house.

“All clean now!” Shawna said while she spot-checked random places with peroxide.

“Um, I just had a thought, Shawna.”

“Why is that statement making me nervous, Jeff?”

“How did that blood get to the floor?”

“Huh?”

“The patient was on the stretcher, right?”

“Right,” she sighed. Walking over to the stretcher she pulled the mattress off; pouring peroxide on the bare stretcher brought forth more blood-tinged foam.

“Great,” Jeff muttered while handing Shawna a red biohazard bag. “I’ll go call dispatch if you get the straps off. I’ll see what the guys from Five have for cleaning brushes.”

“See if they have any bleach, too.”

Cleaning the stretcher took another hour’s time. The stretcher’s mechanism trapped many small clots which needed to be coaxed out; disassembling the stretcher would de-certify it under the maintenance contract.

“We should have just had them bring us a spare stretcher,” Shawna grumbled while scrubbing the top of the stretcher with disinfectant for the third time.

“Tried that,” Jeff grumbled back. “All the spares are broken, waiting to be serviced. Of course the stretcher maintenance company is coming next week. Plus that would leave this one still contaminated while sitting in the garage in Malden.”

“True.”

By the time they were finished both Jeff’s and Shawna’s uniforms were soaked with sweat, wash water and flecked with bleach.

“Guess we should have thought that through first,” Jeff commented while looking at their appearance.

“Yeah. You have your spare uniform in your car?”

“As always.”

“And to think I used to think I wouldn’t get dirty doing this job.”

“Say what?”

“I used to watch Emergency! growing up; the ambulance guys who came to help Johnny and Roy were always wearing white. Somehow I must have thought that equated to this being a ‘clean’ line of work.”

“They sure fooled us!”

Shawna and Jeff wandered into the fire department’s side of the building once they’d changed. They made sure the equipment they borrowed from Engine Five was in its proper place; they were given mugs of coffee when they returned.

“Hey, thanks, Chief.”

Deputy Chief Paul Giaconti waved off the thanks. “You guys were out there for almost two hours straight and you made sure everything was put away before you cleaned yourselves up. You guys all set now?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jeff replied. “We just had our dispatch release the cover truck.”

Before Shawna and Jeff took a sip of their coffees the tones went off for a response.

“Engine Two and Ambulance One, E-Two and A-One, eighty-six Sharon Street, eight-six Sharon, outside for the man down.”

Shawna and Jeff stared at the speaker while the message repeated. Jeff held his hand out for her coffee mug; he dumped their contents down the drain and rinsed the mugs.

“Murphy’s got a hard-on for you two today,” Chief Giaconti commented as the paramedics moved towards the apparatus bay. Public safety personnel were big believers in Murphy’s First Law: if anything can go wrong, it will.

The pair signed on for the response with Medford Fire Alarm, then with Brophy; the cover truck was turned around and sent back for coverage in Medford. Fire Alarm updated that the arriving police were calling for them to “step up” their response. Shawna and Jeff rolled their eyes. Shawna was already driving as fast as she safely could; that’s how every response was. Jeff tried to get an update on the patient, but didn’t receive a reply.

Engine Two signed off three minutes later. The fire officer’s voice came over the radio seconds later. “Engine Two to A-One?”

“Engine Two, go ahead, sir.”

“A-One, your patient’s been badly beaten, had his throat cut and was then shoved into a snowbank. Multiple injuries to the face: broken nose, possible broken jaw. We can hear air movement through the neck wound; we’ve placed a non-rebreather near his face but not on it due to his injuries, and lightly covered his neck. Strong, rapid pulse. We’re not going to move him much until you get here.”

“Roger, Engine Two. We’ll be there in less than five minutes.”

“Here we go...” Shawna muttered when she turned onto Sharon Street. The wall of emergency lights was impressive even in the daylight; at night it would have been dizzying. An unintended consequence of the overwhelming response was that Shawna couldn’t pull onto Sharon Street; she had to park out on the main road, Harvard Avenue.

They steered their stretcher through the maze of police cars and the massive fire engine, finally reaching the snowbank where their patient was; the patient’s blood dripping onto the dirty snow turned it into a giant, grotesque snow cone. The cold from the January air above him and snow below caused the lightly dressed patient’s blood to be shunted away from his skin; this gave him an unwanted pallor but was probably the reason he was still alive. Engine Two helped them get the patient onto a backboard. The patient began trying to cough once face up.

“Shawna, you know those 4-inch-by-4-inch gauze pads that are slit up the middle for trach patients?” Jeff asked while pulling an endotracheal tube from the airway kit.

“Yeah?”

“Make me a big one out of one of the trauma dressings?”

“You got it!”

The patient’s face was a mess. His lower jaw was definitely broken; his upper jaw was suspect also. His cheeks were swollen, his nose broken. The broken nose added to the blood pooling in the back of his throat. Jeff saw only one option.

“Hey, hold the top of his head? Here?” Jeff asked one of the firefighters. “Turn your face away so he doesn’t cough on you.” Jeff placed the 8.0 mm endotracheal tube into the patient’s trachea through the laceration on his throat. Shawna nodded after listening to lung sounds; the tube was in the right place. The large gauze pad went around the tube; a commercial tube holder kept everything in place.

“Let’s get him in the truck,” Jeff said to the firefighters helping Shawna and him. The crew of Engine Two followed them back through the maze of vehicles to their ambulance. Jeff jumped in first and cranked up the heat. He stripped off the outer gloves he wore and pulled off his coat; Shawna did the same. Engine Two’s lieutenant tasked two of his firefighters to assist in the ambulance. Jeff made sure they took off their heavy bunker coats before the temperature inside rose.

Shawna and one firefighter began cutting off the patient’s clothes. Jeff untied the tube holder so he could get to the patient’s neck. Shawna didn’t have any luck finding a vein in the patient’s arm, even with a tourniquet on; he was still too cold for his veins to carry enough blood for them to stand up. With Shawna holding the base of the tube Jeff placed an IV in one of the patient’s neck veins, the external jugular. Morphine went into the IV after Shawna got a blood pressure on the patient.

“I wish we could give him something else,” Shawna muttered to Jeff while putting restraints around their patient’s wrists; he’d already reached for the tube, the thing keeping him alive, three times in the five minutes they’d been en route to Mass General.

“His blood pressure was barely high enough for the morphine before he got it. Even if we were allowed to give him some Valium to calm him down, the combination of the two could bottom out his pressure. I’ll probably catch enough heat for how I placed the tube.”

“Are you the one who cut his throat? No? Then what’s the problem?”

“We’ll see when we get to the General.”

Jeff made his radio report; the person who answered advised him they’d be going to the trauma bays. They bypassed the short line at triage and walked into the treatment area. Jeff gave his report to the trauma team and prepared to step away.

“Who’s the idiot who put the tube through the patient’s neck?” an unfamiliar voice called from the patient’s head.

Jeff turned back to the bay. “While I dispute your characterization of me as an ‘idiot, ‘ I did. Why?”

“Did you stop to consider that an endotracheal tube goes in the patient’s mouth?”

“If you’d been paying attention to my report in the slightest, you’d remember that we suspected multiple fractures to the patient’s mandible, maxilla, zygomae and nose. Rather than cause more trauma with a laryngoscope, I opted to pass the ET tube into the trachea via the pre-existing laceration.”

“Which shows sound judgment on his part, Dr. Fulda, so drop it.” Jeff looked to his right and saw three doctors in a tight cluster just behind him; he recognized all three.

“Dr. Bennington, surely...”

“Surely what, Dr. Fulda? I’ll speak to you privately after we get this man to surgery. Don’t compound your mistake by opening your mouth again. My apologies, Dr. Clarke, for the interruption.”

The senior Emergency Medicine resident was stunned by the apology from the Chief of Trauma Surgery, but soon recovered. She continued to manage the assessment of her patient in precise fashion. The patient was ready to head to the operating room within fifteen minutes.

“You need to bite the heads off my trauma residents more often, Jeff,” Dr. Bennington said in a quiet voice while patting him on the shoulder. “It keeps them humble, which is exactly what we surgeons need sometimes. Good to see you. Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, sir.” Dr. Bennington nodded and followed the surgical team out the door.

“He really loves it when you do that,” Jason Atherton commented with a smile.

“I don’t do it that often, Jason. I hold my tongue a lot more than I let fly.”

“Which is why Isaac Bennington likes it when you let fly. You only do it when you really need to.”

“I’m glad I finally got to see that. I missed the one time you did that during my residency here. Good to see you again, Jeff.”

“Welcome back, Josh. First day?”

“Yup, Dr. A’s training me. Glad to be back in the area after five years in Dallas.”

“Which hospital were you at there?”

“Baylor University Medical Center. A good hospital, but too far from Fenway for my liking.” Josh Snow grew up in Reading, Massachusetts and was a confirmed Red Sox fan.

“Did you ever have to deal with an EM resident named ‘Jarrett’ while you were there?”

“Yeah, he was one of the better ones there. Do you know him?”

“Only since freshman year of high school; we were tight back then. He’s now at Greenwich Valley Medical Center out where I grew up.”

“Small world.”

“Very true. Hey, I need to see if my partner needs help with the truck, write up my report and get back in service. Happy New Year to you both.” Jeff waved to the two doctors before hustling out to the ambulance bay. Shawna was finishing mopping the floor.

“How bad?” he asked.

“Not too bad. When the snow from our patient’s clothes melted the run-off went mostly onto the sheet on the stretcher. The snow from our boots made more of a mess on the floor.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, just finished.”

“Where’s Nate?” Nathan Stearns was the Medford firefighter who’d driven for them.

“MPD picked him up a few minutes ago.”

“I’ll get to writing that report then.”

Keiko’s first ultrasound in mid-November put Jeff’s concerns of a second set of twins to rest; she would be carrying one child, not two. They were hoping this late-January ultrasound would reveal the sex of their next child. Once again the cold, blue gel landed on Keiko’s stomach.

“Well, unless the baby’s hiding something important, she’s made of sugar and spice.”

“A girl?” Jeff asked, excited.

Marie Nuno smiled at his enthusiasm. “Yes, Jeff. You’ll need to teach those two boys of yours to watch out for their little sister.”

“If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll be able to take care of herself before she can crawl.”

“And when was the last time I ‘took care’ of you, Jeffrey?”

“Our last sparring session in November, I believe.”

“Then I will have to speak to Emily or Sensei about standing in for me until I recover from this pregnancy. You need to be put back in your place!”

Jeff leaned down to kiss his wife; he knew she was kidding. Mostly.

“Hi, Mrs. Muntz. How are you today?”

“Lousy! Why else would I call an ambulance?”

Jeff saw Shawna bite back a sarcastic reply. Lorna Muntz was a “frequent flyer,” someone who called the ambulance frequently; not many of her requests for service rose to the level of needing to call 9-1-1. Still, she was the type of patient who could bite you in the backside one day because you blew her off when she actually had a true emergency. Her medical history was long, varied and bordered on the scary.

“What’s wrong, ma’am?”

Jeff half-listened while retrieving a list of Mrs. Muntz’s medications from the folder in the kitchen. Medford A-One responded to her apartment at least once a week; the regular crews new exactly where the lists were kept. Jeff once spent a half-hour at his computer at home creating an electronic version of her list for her; he was now her favorite paramedic. She could be counted on to call during Shawna and Jeff’s shifts.

When they wheeled Mrs. Muntz out of her apartment building on their stretcher, Shawna and Jeff were surprised to see Engine Five still on-scene; they’d told Nick and his crew they’d be all set within minutes of entering the apartment. Jeff made sure Shawna wouldn’t need anything before closing the back doors. He walked over to Engine Five.

“Did you guys forget how to put it in drive, Nick?”

“You’re a barrel of laughs, Jeff. No, you and Shawna have been all over Medford today; we were just wondering how you guys are doing?”

“A little tired,” Jeff admitted. “We’ve been going non-stop since we came in. Mrs. Muntz goes to Mass General, so we’ll grab something from their cafeteria; it’s pretty good.”

“Are they going to have anything left at two in the afternoon?”

“They don’t run out of salads and pizza, even late at night.”

“If you guys make it back to the station at all today, we saved you some of the steak tips and pilaf we made for lunch.”

“Thanks, Nick. I’d better get moving before Mrs. Muntz convinces herself she has the plague or something.”

“Take care, Jeff.”

“They’re quick!” Heather watched the twins wobble around on two feet before crawling away at twice the speed.

“Once they figure out that walking thing a little more, Keiko and I are screwed. It’s bad enough they crawl as fast as they do!”

“Alex seems to like being the center of attention. My godson seems more reserved.”

“Ryan’s no dummy! With you and Emily doting on him the way you do, he knows he can just sit back and let the ladies come to him! He doesn’t have to jump up and down like his brother.”

“I can’t believe they’re already one!”

“Before long you and TC are going to be chasing some of your own around, Heather.”

“As much as I love Matty, Jenni and the boys, I’m looking forward to being a mother.”

“Speaking of being a mother, how’s Miranda after giving birth to Devin?”

“She and Travis are going well. Mackenzie’s not too sure about the noisy thing her parents brought home, though; she says it smells funny, too. She sleeps like a rock so she doesn’t hear Devin when he wakes up their parents in the middle of the night.”

“Lucky girl.”

“Have you guys settled on a name for your little girl yet?”

“A first name, yes. Her middle name is taking a little longer.”

“Why?”

“I think we should pick a middle name which reflects her Japanese heritage, like the ones we picked for her brothers. Keiko has suggested one which doesn’t and she’s sticking to her guns.”

“It’s so unlike Keiko to be so stubborn.”

“You’re hilarious; riotous, even. Seriously, I don’t think I’m gonna win this one.”

Heather laughed. “You thought you had a chance?”

“Shaddap, kid.”

“Thanks for letting us watch the boys, Mr. Knox.”

“You think I’d deprive them of their favorite baby sitter, Emily?”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d agree when I asked if Ben could come with me today.”

Jeff glanced in his rear-view mirror; he couldn’t see Ben and Emily’s hands but he was certain they were holding hands. They were both the same age now as he was when he first started dating Pauline. That memory brought a smile to his face.

“Emily, Keiko and I know you guys very well from the dojo, and the boys know you both already. Granted they know Emily better than you, Ben, but she’s been watching them for almost their whole lives. You’re both serious when you need to be, but you don’t seem to take yourselves too seriously. You work hard and play hard, as the saying goes. You already know how to find balance, guys, and that’s no mean feat at any age.”

“Thanks, Mr. Knox, from both of us,” Ben said.

“The boys are still taking naps mid-morning and mid-afternoon, so you’ll be able to get a couple hours of relaxing in at least. Keiko has their lunch already made and in the fridge, as well as some snacks for them for later.”

“How’s Mrs. Knox been feeling? We don’t see her at the dojo anymore.”

“She was getting too tired between school and the dojo. She had to cut one and, unfortunately, the dojo was the one. Even after the school year ended three weeks ago, she didn’t entertain any thoughts of going back. At just over eight months pregnant she looks great, but this will likely be the last little outing we take until the baby comes.”

They arrived at the Knox residence to find Keiko relaxing on the couch while the boys played. Ryan saw Emily and ran over to her holding one of his books; Alex ran over holding a different book. Ben convinced Alex to let him read to him while Emily read to Ryan; both boys were soon engrossed in their stories...

“The boys didn’t seem too upset when we left, Jeffrey.”

“Emily and Ben had them distracted. Are you sure you’re up for our little outing? You look tired today.”

“Jeffrey, I have been tired for months,” Keiko sighed. “Let us go have a nice lunch together and we will see how I feel afterwards.”

Keiko and Jeff were finishing their lunch when Keiko excused herself to go to the ladies room. She came back a few minutes later.

“Jeffrey, are you finished with your lunch?”

“Sure. You ready to hit the mall?”

“We need to go.” Her tone made it clear she didn’t mean “to the mall.”

“Keiko?”

“We must call Dr. Nuno, Jeffrey. My water has broken and we need to get to the hospital.”

Jeff called home after calling Dr. Nuno, explaining the situation to Emily and Ben. Beth Brophy and Charlie Flaherty would head out to Lancaster and spend the night with the boys; one of them would drive the teenagers back to Emily’s house.

At the hospital Keiko and Jeff walked many laps around the Labor and Delivery floor; five hours of walking and resting had her ready to give birth by dinner time. While staff prepared for an epidural, a contraction hit.

“Dr. Nuno, I don’t think we’ll have time for the epidural,” commented one of the nurses. “I think she’s crowning.”

“You’re right, Debbie. Keiko, we’re gonna have to pass on the epidural. When the next contraction hits, push.” Keiko and Jeff’s daughter emerged five contractions later. “No surprises here, folks. It’s a girl!”

The short, intense labor drained Keiko; she burst into happy tears at Marie Nuno’s words. The nurses placing their little girl on her chest brought more. Jeff leaned down to kiss both of his ladies.

“You have a beautiful little girl,” Dr. Nuno said. “What will her name be?”

“Sabrina Marie,” Jeff answered without taking his eyes off his daughter. Sabrina’s eyes opened, revealing brilliant, blue irises. “If she looks anything like you when she grows up, we’re in big trouble, Keiko. I’ll be chasing the boys away left and right!”