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Message-ID: <30023asstr$988283403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "The Star" <extar@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} REV: Adoré 03 - School and Babies
Date: Thu, 26 Apr 2001 07:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Ador 03.txt" begin>

						Ador 
				A Tale of Romance By The Star*
				Chapter Three - School and Babies


[Author's note: When a reader pointed out some glaring errors in the prior 
version, it seemed appropriate to make the simple changes to correct most of 
his--valid--complaints. There were a couple of placed where I disagree. But 
making simple changes makes the story more historically accurate. One must 
remember that these events are in the late 60s. The unrest on campuses and 
in the cities was volatile and the civil rights marches had changed to riots 
and "Black Power" demonstrations--especially on campuses. Hope my changes 
make the story more palatable.]


When they arrived, tired but happy, at Steele Ranch, they found a couple 
more welcome surprises. Champ had been shipped back to the ranch. And Ad 
decided that Marty's old jalopy was not suitable for a wife and family. So 
he'd sold it and bought a new, shiny black Ford pickup, with 4-wheel drive 
and an extended cab. The truck had a trailer hitch and towing package, just 
in case they wanted to pull a horse trailer and take Champ along to school.

"A bit spendy for a graduation present, isn't it dad?" Marty asked.

"Well, I thought of it more as a wedding present. After all, the Parmentiers 
bought a house for you in Corvallis. I don't like them thinking I'm too poor 
to help you take proper care of their little darling." Ad's grin took any 
possible sting out of his words. Ador  gave him a big hug.

They set up housekeeping in the back bedroom that was Marty's and enjoyed 
the ranch and each other the rest of the summer.


When school started in the fall, there was no trouble enrolling Ador  as a 
freshman, too. They both took the general classes freshmen have to take: 
English, history, and math. Ador  took French, and Marty took biology 101.

Her dad bought a nice three-bedroom house within easy walking distance of 
the campus, then made sure it had all the modern amenities. The kitchen was 
new, as was the carpeting. The furnace was augmented with a heat pump and 
high-efficiency filters. A high capacity, fast recovery water heater was 
added, with a pump on the system to constantly provide hot water right at 
the taps.

Her mother wanted to hire a cook/housekeeper for them, but Ador  insisted 
that she would take care of them, herself. After all, college is where you 
learn what you need to succeed in life, right? Well, they were not going to 
have any servants on the ranch and she was not going to start her marriage 
with one.

Their first term went about how they expected. They were deliriously happy 
with each other and enjoyed the school and their home. Even though they 
bitched about the Teaching Assistants--many of whom were Asian, and didn't 
speak English well enough to teach in the language--they liked learning in 
the atmosphere of committed students desiring to learn.

Their classes were tough and they thrived on the challenge.

It seemed they'd just arrived there when they finished their first term 
finals, and it was time to go home for Christmas.


After the rain and gloom of the Willamette Valley in December, the sunny 
days at the ranch, though cold, were welcome. Ador  was obviously very 
pregnant now, and the sunshine visibly lifted her spirits.

The second day home, after wandering around the ranch headquarters all 
morning, Marty asked, "Honey, why don't we leave Champ here? You aren't able 
to ride and I want to put him to work."

"How?"

"Well, we have a few mares I'd like to have him service. I think we can come 
up with some pretty good horses. I'd like to try it anyway, just to see if 
I'm right."

"OK, dear. You're right about my riding. It will be months before I can ride 
again."

"Great, baby.... Er, the income we make from the colts goes into the ranch. 
Is that a problem?"

"Why can't it be our income?" she asked.

"Well, the way it's always been here is that the family owns and works the 
ranch. Mom and dad are in charge. But it's always been understood that any 
expenses Rick or I have, the ranch pays. And any income we have goes to the 
ranch... I suppose if I were to move to Virginia permanently it would 
change, but that's the way we've been for four generations now--soon to be 
five."

"I suppose that's OK. It sounds like a fair deal to me," Ador  agreed. "My 
dad might have a bit of problem if my trusts are expected to be dumped into 
the ranch, though."

"Let's let mom work that out with him, next time she visits Richmond."

They settled on that, and Champ began his new life as head stud for the 
Steele Ranch horse herd.

The next day, they walked together around the area again, needing the 
exercise.
A couple hundred yards south of the "big house" was a copse of cottonwood 
and aspen, in a spot sheltered from the wind, but catching plenty of the 
eastern Oregon sunlight.

"Marty, I'd love to have a house right here," Ador  said. "Can we?"

"Well, let's talk to dad and see if the money is there for that. We may need 
to wait a year or two--but we won't be here that much until we graduate 
anyway."

Over supper, they broached the subject. Ad thought it was a great idea, 
especially if the kids were willing to take it slow. Rick was in college, 
too, a sophomore at UC, Davis. Their expenses were higher than normal as a 
result.

"We've done OK. And we can afford both of you in college. But we'll be 
strapped if we have to build you a new house all at once, on top of it. 
Seems to me, though, if we get the permits and put in water and septic this 
spring, and the foundations this summer, we can do the rest over a couple of 
years, and have it all done when you're ready to move in."

"Uncle Ad?" Ador  said...

"Just 'Ad', Dory. 'Uncle' sounds strange from a daughter-in-law."

"OK.  Ad...? I just wanted to say that I can afford a house for us."

"Dory, we take care of ourselves here. Always have. When the time comes for 
you to start spending some of your inheritance, I hope you'll want to invest 
it in the ranch. Maybe a few more good horses, to improve the herd even more 
than Champ will? Whatever, we can handle it fine, if you don't need it all 
at once. OK?"

"OK Ad. If you say so. But I don't feel I'm carrying my share of the 
load..."

"Sure you are. You're making my grandson. I can't ask any more from you 
until you've finished that job. Then we'll see about what else. Besides, 
Dory, you're a mighty pretty girl and just having you around brightens my 
days a lot."

"I'd say you're a flatterer. But Marty says that's not correct. You're a 
bullshitter, Ad... but I love it!"


Second term, Ador --starting her third trimester--was _very_ pregnant. 
Beautiful before, now she glowed. 'Waddling' to classes or to the commons, 
she still turned heads wherever she went.

One eye she caught belonged to a junior at OSU, Darnell Hollins.
Raised by a welfare mom in the inner city in Portland, Darnell had only a 
couple of things going for him. He was big, and he was pretty good on the 
basketball court. He was not as good as he thought he was, though, and his 
idea of strolling into the NBA with a big-money contract was pure pipe 
dream.

Normally, his carnal appetites were more than adequately handled by the 
girls who thought athletes were cool and who offered themselves to most any 
jocks who wanted them. As at most major colleges, there were plenty of them, 
and Darnell was never lacking. Few hung around very long, though--soon 
learning that there was nothing to Darnell beyond basketball. He had no 
thoughts or conversation and was a completely selfish lover, treating his 
'conquests' like a used Kleenex when he was done with them.

No one knows why, but something in Ador  struck a chord in his mind and he 
soon began looking for her on campus. Then he looked up her class 
schedule--she was only taking French and English composition that term--and 
was in position to watch as she left a class and walked to the commons for 
lunch or the library to study in the hour before the next class. Soon he was 
saying hello to her and then offering little conversational gambits.

Ador  had been well trained in avoiding unwanted social contacts. But she 
was also trained--and her basic friendly personality reinforced this--to be 
pleasant to everyone.

She tried to be polite, but give him a brush-off. He persisted. She 
displayed her wedding ring prominently--her pregnant belly also prominent. 
He continued.
She finally confronted him one day, in the commons, when he persisted in 
trying to engage her in conversation when she obviously wasn't interested.

"Look, Darwin, or whatever your name is. I'm a married lady. A VERY married 
lady who is about to become a married mother. Whatever you're peddling, take 
it somewhere else. I'm not interested. And I'm not flattered by your 
attention; I'm offended. Now: Leave me alone! Is that clear?"

Darnell just laughed it off and watched for her the next day.

Ador  and Marty went to their academic advisor for advice. He hadn't a clue, 
as it turned out, and suggested that there was little to be done unless 
Darnell broke the law.

That night, they mentioned it to Hazel, during a routine call home. Hazel 
asked how late they would be studying. Told they'd be awake until midnight, 
she said, "I'll call you back. Your advisor's full of shit. We can get this 
stopped and we will--right now."

Hazel's next call was to an old friend--a Parmentier cousin who was an 
Oregon State grad and had a very successful law practice in Portland. She 
explained the problem and received the help she expected. Then she called 
the kids and asked that they do nothing for a day or two, but that Marty 
should be with Ador  whenever he possibly could until it was solved.

Mr. Parmentier, who had made substantial contributions to OSU and to its 
athletic program, made just one phone call--to the Athletics Director (the 
'AD'). He explained the whole situation to the AD, and that the kids had 
received 'wait until you're raped' advice from their advisor. He stated 
politely but firmly that he wasn't satisfied with that and that he felt his 
cousin should be able to attend OSU without being intimidated by some sexual 
predator.

Knowing he was dealing with a man who was not only a big contributor, but 
whose word could dry up a lot of other contributions, he promised to take 
action immediately.

He called in the basketball coach, who professed to know nothing about any 
of it. In the sixties, sexual assaults on college campuses were not 
considered that big a deal. Sexual harassment wasn't even on most 
administrators' radar screens. The coach really didn't want to be bothered.

So the AD paid a visit to the Registrar, where he pulled Darnell's file. The 
kid was barely eligible to play--and could not possibly graduate, since the 
courses he'd taken were calculated to give him passing grades--and he'd had 
trouble passing them anyway. Seems class attendance wasn't high on his 
priorities, either.

Summoning the coach to his office the following morning, the conversation 
was strained. "Bob, if you don't do something about that kid, I will."

"He's OK. Just high-spirited."

"Yeah. He's so high-spirited, he's stalking a pregnant, married woman, when 
he has all the free pussy any man can use. He's also so high-spirited he 
hasn't taken a single upper-level class in three years. Now, I expect 
you--today--to explain to the young man that if I hear one single complaint 
about his behavior towards women on the campus, he's out of here. And I 
expect your counseling session to include the startling revelation that he's 
expected to go to class. If he doesn't, he's out of here in June."

"Well, that might be hard. He never had to do a lot of class work, in the 
lousy high school he went to in Portland..."

"Coach, do you know the school rule?"

"Sure... Oh... you mean about being on a degree track?"

"Exactly. He's not. I expect you to correct that... In fact, I expect you to 
review the courses and results of all your scholarship players, to make sure 
they are complying with the rules. Are there any questions about that?"

"Kind of... Some of these kids... They just never learned how to do this 
kind of work. We tutor them and help all we can, but, well..."

"Seems to me you need to set your recruiting sights a little higher."

"Easy to say. Not so easy to do, when everybody expects me to win with this 
program."

"That's what you get the big bucks for--figuring these little situations 
out. Now are we clear on Hollins? I'm not fooling with you on this. He 
cleans up his act or he's history!"


The young man who left the coach's office was not chastened--he was pissed 
off. The coach hadn't done a very good job of concealing his displeasure 
with the AD, so Darnell had some justification in believing the coach wasn't 
really ready to come down on him. Besides, they were playing Washington on 
Friday and needed his rebounding.

The next day, he caught up to Ador  just as she left her English class. 
Marty was across campus, awaiting his calculus session.

"I hear you think you're too good to associate with me," Darnell started 
out, truculently.

"Not at all. But I am a married woman and want to be respected and left 
alone."

"Dunno what you got you think's so shit-hot. I've screwed half the white 
chicks on this place already."

"Fine. Go find some willing ones and leave me alone."

"Or what? You'll go whining to the coach again?"

"No. I'll have you arrested. Get out of my face!"

She turned to walk away, when Darnell roughly turned her back to face him, 
his face a mask of rage.

"Don't walk away from me, bitch! Nobody walks away from me! You got that?"

"What I got, is that you're too stupid to be allowed to exist. Let go of me, 
now!" As she wrenched her arm free, a campus security officer approached, 
tipped off by another student who had seen a situation developing.

"Anybody want to tell me what's going on?" he inquired, mildly.

"Nothin' for you, pig!" Darnell snarled, grabbing her arm again.

"Maybe. What do you say, miss?" he asked Ador .

"Nothin' from her, either. Get lost," the arrogant young man interrupted.

"I think, young man, you better 'get lost', unless you want me to write you 
a citation."

"Fuck you, man. I was havin' words with this bitch here. My business, not 
yours."

"Buster, back off, or you're coming in with me."

"I ain't goin' nowhere with you. I'm talkin' here. Now get lost."

"OK. That's it. Give me your student ID."

"Fuck you," he said, taking a swing at the officer. He still had hold of 
Ador 's arm, so his swing was off balance and lacked range. He did manage to 
connect with the officer's chest. The unarmed security man just backed up 
and reached for his radio, requesting immediate assistance to subdue a 
student who had attacked him.

In a matter of seconds, three other security men were visible, hustling 
towards them. It finally penetrated Darnell's head that he couldn't win 
here.

"Come on, bitch!" he snarled, trying to pull Ador  with him, away from 
there.
Ador  promptly collapsed.

"You stupid cunt! Get up!" he snarled, as he slapped her hard, once with 
each hand.

Then he was tackled by four enraged security men, who managed to get his 
wrists restrained behind him. When he tried to kick one of them and gave 
another an elbow, the one who carried a police baton used it--behind his 
knee, in his solar plexus, and on the back of his head. It didn't put him 
out, but was effective in putting him down, where two men sat on him while 
they awaited the Corvallis police to come haul him to the pokey.

He was charged with menacing, five counts of assault, three counts of 
battery, and resisting arrest.

In that era of emerging "Black Power", anti-war protests, and draft-card 
burnings, campus security people weren't very interested in allowing 
"situations" to develop and reacted quickly.


The Athletic Director heard about it almost immediately, of course, as did 
the basketball coach, who spent his lunch hour getting his ass royally 
reamed by a very upset AD.

"I told you what you had to do with that young man. What did you say to 
him?"

"Well, you can't just talk that way to these inner-city kids..." the coach 
whined.

"The hell you can't. You let him think it was no big deal, that you were 
talking to him just because I said to, right?"

"Well... sorta. But it wasn't..."

"What is aggravated assault, if 'it wasn't?' "

"Look, he's not a bad kid. I'll get him out and we'll straighten it up..."

"Let's get a few things straight around here. You work for me, right?"

"Well, yeah..."

"And I gave you very specific instructions about that kid, didn't I?"

"Yeah..."

"I'm going to give you some more. You will not go near that kid. You will 
not allow your assistant coaches to go near that kid. You will not call him 
or accept any phone calls from him. You will have absolutely nothing to do 
with that kid: Darnell Hollins. And that applies to your coaches, your 
trainers, all of your staff--and your team! Are you clear on that?"

The coach nodded.

"Repeat it back to me, so I know you're clear on that."

"I will have no contact of any kind with Darnell Hollins. Nor will my 
coaches, staff or team. Uh, that may be a problem. Some of the brothers on 
the team are friends of his."

"Damn you have a problem understanding plain English, don't you? If they 
don't follow these instructions, they are no longer members of the team. 
Then they can do whatever they want--and we'll have some more basketball 
scholarships to give away. Can you get that message across, or do I have to 
come to your practice and get it across myself?"

"I can do it," he muttered.

"What? Speak up!"

"I said, I can do it!" the frustrated coach nearly shouted.

"I hope so... One other thing I want you to do when you leave my office."

"Yes?"

"You will go to the Athletic Department press office and issue a statement 
that Darnell Hollins has been kicked off the team--none of this nicey-nice 
'suspended' shit. He's kicked off. And if you can't do that, I want to know 
right now."

Visibly gathering himself, the coach demanded, "How in hell do you expect me 
to recruit, if you make me do this? My best prospects are from the inner 
cities. If I have to treat Darnell this way, I won't have any credibility 
there."

"Well, coach, that puts you between a rock and a hard place, doesn't it? I 
really don't give a shit. You'll carry out my instructions, and do it right, 
or I'll expect your resignation on my desk in an hour... Ball's in your 
court."

"Fuck you. I'm outta here!" the coach said.

"Fine. Write it down." He slid a tablet and pen across the desk, where the 
angry coach hand-wrote a two line, immediate resignation.

"Don't go back to the gym, coach. Go straight to your car and leave the 
campus. I'll have all your things sent to you. You'll have your check in two 
days."
The assistant basketball coach was called in, brought up to speed on what 
had happened, and asked if he wanted to coach the team for the remainder of 
the season. He appreciated the opportunity, but felt that he could not 
honorably do that, given the debt of loyalty he owed his mentor, the old 
coach. He did agree to run the team until Monday morning.

Not wasting any time, the AD called the president of the university, to fill 
him in on what had happened and what he had done about it. He made a special 
point that he felt the basketball coach deserved no consideration from the 
school in terms of references or anything else. The assistant was an 
honorable man and would receive good recommendations. The president was not, 
obviously, happy about it, and wanted to know how it had gotten to that 
point.

"Hard to do anything until there is something to go on. We had a minor 
incident, which I handled--that is, I gave detailed instructions to the man 
responsible on how to handle it. He blew it and now we have a not so minor 
incident. I've taken decisive steps to ensure that the people involved will 
not embarrass the school like this again. That's about all I can do. I 
didn't hire the coach, but I sure as hell fired him!"

"OK, Charlie. I'll see what I can do to keep it from getting messier."

"Thanks, sir. I need to get busy and line up another coach for the rest of 
the season."

"Good luck. Keep me posted."

A quick call to the Los Angeles Lakers front office, where he had several 
close friends, resulted in three names of possible candidates. The AD had no 
sooner hung up the phone and was looking up one of the names he'd been given 
when the UCLA head coach was on the line.

"Hey, Charlie. Hear you had a bit of dust-up down there."

"You got that straight. What's up with you?"

"I just got through talking to the guy in the Lakers' office that you talked 
to. The names he gave you are OK, but how about a really good man?"

"Who?"

"You know Peter Wilkins?"

"Sure. Who doesn't?"

"The press doesn't know it yet, though they've had suspicions--but he's 
retired on account of those stress fractures he has. The Lakers' orthopod 
confirmed that he can't play any more. But he loves the game, works well 
with kids, and has a real ability to teach what he knows--and that's a hell 
of a lot."

"Can I trust him?"

"Shit, Charlie. If Peter says it, you can take it to the bank. He's no poker 
face. It's all right up front. He's squeaky clean and as honorable a man as 
I've ever known. And I've known some good ones."

"Sounds too good to be true. Where is he?"

"Would you believe he's working as a volunteer at the Boys' Club here in 
town? He uses their gym for his rehab, too."

"Think maybe he's bored?"

"Might be."

"Can I say you sent me?"

"Any time Charlie. I owe Peter a big one. I think maybe this is it. And then 
you'll owe me a big one."

For the first time that afternoon, the AD laughed out loud. "Thanks coach. 
I'll let you know how it works out."

The AD met with the basketball team in a closed-door meeting. It was a rocky 
session. He laid out what had happened and what he had done about it. Some 
players made comments like, "If coach goes, I go too." He allowed that that 
was their privilege. When he demanded that there be no contact of any kind 
with Darnell, a few team members got angrier.

"Who you, tellin' me who I can see and who I can't see? I don't turn my back 
on friends." And so on.

Again, he said that it was a free country. Any of them was free to contact 
Hollins. And, if they did, he was free to revoke their scholarships. He made 
his point. Then he told them that the assistant coach would take the team 
through the weekend's games. On Monday, they would have a new coach... Peter 
Wilkins.

Telling his wife about it that night, he chuckled. "You should have seen 
their eyes. There wasn't a guy in the room who wouldn't kill to play for 
Wilkins. It sure changed some attitudes in a hurry."

In plenty of time to make the evening news broadcasts, the AD had press 
releases out. Darnell Hollins was kicked off the OSU basketball team and his 
scholarship revoked, as a result of unacceptable behavior in violation of 
team and University rules, compounded by his refusal to take courses 
relevant to his major. The University was investigating his actions, to 
determine whether to suspend or expel him. The coach and his assistant had 
resigned in protest. The University took the position that university 
policy, and simple civic duty, were more important than coddling an 
unqualified thug.  And by the way, the university was pleased to announce 
that former NBA star, Peter Wilkins, had been hired as the new head coach of 
the team.

TV stations in Portland and Eugene sent crews to Corvallis. Darnell Hollins 
was not available, nor was the old coach. The AD and the president of the 
school both made brief statements, as did the new Coach Wilkins, who was 
thrilled with the chance to pass on his knowledge of the game he loved so 
much to a new generation.


Unable to make bail--Darnell was held in jail until Friday, when he was 
arraigned on the assault charges. Pleading not guilty, he was bound over for 
trial, with bail set at $50,000. Thinking, in his arrogance, that he was a 
cinch to make the NBA, he called an agent who represented one of the guys 
who graduated last year. The agent did take his call, but cut off his 
rambling 'street talk' speech as soon as he figured out what Darnell wanted.

"Listen, turkey: You don't have a prayer of making the NBA. I'm sure as hell 
not going to bail out your sorry ass. Don't ever call me again."

He tried to call a couple of teammates, but they would not take his calls.
Monday morning, a public defender met with him, and gave him the bad 
news--they had him cold. The best he could hope for was a plea bargain of 
some sort, maybe a few months in the county jail and some community service.

Hollins was furious. He felt 'they' were trying to 'get' him. He wasn't 
about to take that shit from nobody. Just wait till he got out of there, 
he'd show them honky muthafuckers--and that snooty white bitch, too.

"Well, Mr. Hollins, I'm giving you the best advice I can. You will, of 
course, make up your own mind. But you can get two to five in the state pen 
if this goes to trial."

"Isn't that what you're for? To make sure I don't?"

The lawyer gave a tired smile. "I'm trying to do that. In my professional 
opinion, a plea is your only chance to avoid prison. But it's up to you."

Darnell was adamant that he would not plead anything other than 'not 
guilty'. He truly felt that the security guards had attacked him, rather 
than the other way around. And beating Ador  was just what she deserved, not 
something he should be blamed for.


The evening of the attack, the kids called home again--they wanted their 
folks to get the story straight from them, not the news reports on TV.

While happy that Hollins was in jail, they were worried about Ador 's 
safety. "He won't be in jail very long. When he gets out, who knows what 
he'll do?" Hazel said.

Ad agreed. "You two stick together. If you need to rearrange some classes, 
do so. But stay together--and avoid places where just the two of you will be 
alone."

"I think you're making too much of this, dad," Marty said. "But we'll do it 
your way for a while, until it all goes away."


Hazel called her cousin again.

"There's only so much the courts can do, Hazel. I can and will sue the 
bastard in civil court for the attack on Ador . And I'll get a permanent 
restraining order keeping him away from both of them. But that's about all I 
can do. He's an inner-city kid with a welfare mom. We won't get anything if 
we win the suit. Further, guys like him wipe their asses with restraining 
orders. Oh, we'll go through the motions, but I'm afraid I'm not going to be 
much help."

"That's a help. You said straight out that the justice system can't protect 
us against this kind of thug. OK. Knowing that, we're back to the old ways. 
The Steeles take care of themselves. Ador 's one of us. She'll do her part 
just fine."

"Sure, Hazel. But I'm going to call Dory's dad. He'll kill me if I don't. 
And I suspect he'll have some ideas, too."

"Good. They need to know, but I'd rather you call, first. I'll call them 
tomorrow after you've talked with them."

"Good-o. Night, Hazel."

"Thanks."


Once in the cafeteria and once in the bookstore, Ador  was accosted by two 
or three very large, black students. Both times, she was assured that they 
were sorry about what had happened to her, that it was completely out of 
line, and that if there was anything they could do to make it up to her, 
they'd try. Her response was that, should they ever see Hollins or talk to 
him, to convince him to just leave her alone.

She sported a pair of matching shiners that were pretty spectacular but, she 
insisted, not as painful as they looked. It made Marty furious, though, that 
his wife had been attacked and hurt when he was unable to defend her.

Ador 's father, unknown to the kids, arranged a security service to keep 
them and their home under surveillance, with instructions to do whatever was 
necessary to protect them if they were threatened. He also contacted the OSU 
chapter of his fraternity and arranged for them to keep an eye on things.


Late in January, Ador  woke Marty after he'd only been asleep an hour.

"Sorry, darling. But you need to get me to the hospital. My water broke. I'm 
contracting real hard."

Swimming up from deep sleep, Marty realized what she was telling him.

"OK, baby. Lemme pee and splash some water on my face. Five minutes, OK?"

"You can have ten--but no more than that unless you want to deliver this 
little guy yourself." She was panting, but still had her sense of humor.

He was ready in five and so was she, having packed a small bag a week 
before. The hospital was only fifteen minutes away and the staff wheeled her 
right in, when he arrived at the emergency entrance.

While Marty parked the car and brought in her bag, Ador  was taken to a 
birthing room. Common now, this was a new concept at that time. The nurse 
told him that the room would be home for a day. After that, Ador  would be 
moved to a regular room, but on the same floor.

Marty gave his wife a kiss, squeezed her hand and told her she was 
beautiful. Then he called his mother.

"Mom, I'm at the hospital in Corvallis. Dory's in labor."

"Great son. Tell her we're praying for her. Do you need anything?"

"Can't think of a thing, mom, unless you want to take our classes for us 
next week?"

"Ha ha, son. I only had one year of college, and that was so long ago I 
can't even remember what school it was."

"Yeah. Right, mom. Well, I'd better go. I promised to call Dory's mom."

"OK, son. Good luck to you both."

When he called Ador 's mother, he learned that she would hop on the family 
Lear and be there in five or six hours.

"Don't worry about picking me up or anything. We'll take care of everything 
from this end. You just take care of Ador ."

"OK. I can do that."

"See you soon."


Ador  had an uneventful, though painful delivery and, seven hours later, 
delivered a healthy baby boy they named Robert Adolph after their fathers. 
They decided they'd call him Robby.

Again, Marty called parents, hers first this time. The call was forwarded to 
the airplane, which was just ready to land at Albany, Oregon, that being the 
closest airport that could handle the jet. The new grandparents, though 
still not too sure about the Steeles, were very pleased to be the first to 
hear about the new member of the family. Ad and Hazel were thrilled, too, 
and said they'd drive down the next day.

The Parmentiers arranged two suites in the local hotel. They would have one 
and the Steeles one. That way, there was no problem about Marty having to 
put up parents in the house.

After meeting and properly admiring their new grandson and fussing over 
Ador  some, they demanded the key to the house. "I'll go get some dinner, 
Marty. You just stay here and keep Ador  company. Whenever you get hungry, 
come home. OK?"
Marty had long since learned that the best way to get along with Mrs. 
Parmentier was to acquiesce immediately with everything she wanted.

Normally, in those days, a woman stayed in the hospital about three days 
after giving birth, assuming no complications. An hour later, a nurse and an 
orderly came in, to move Ador  to another room. When she was safely tucked 
into her new bed, she quickly fell asleep. Marty left her a note by her 
water glass, saying he was going home for a few hours, but that she should 
call him at once if she woke up.

At home, Mrs. Parmentier greeted him in an apron, vacuuming the floors. In 
the kitchen was a fairly elaborate deli dinner. "Just pop what you want in 
the microwave, Marty. Robert and I will join you."

"Thanks," he said, when they were all seated. "This is a treat. I'd have 
just ordered in a pizza... And I didn't know you could operate one of those 
machines. I thought you had maids for that."

"Oh hush. Of course I do. I couldn't keep up that big mausoleum by myself. 
That doesn't mean I don't know how. And it's the least I can do. Ador  won't 
be up to it for a month or so. This way our grandson will come home to a 
clean house."

Marty later learned that she had completely cleaned the bathrooms and had 
bought all new bedding for the entire house, especially for the crib they'd 
installed in the second room--as well as a bunch of teddy bears and mobiles.
Little Robby's arrival was a welcome event.


					~~  * * * * *  ~~


Darnell Hollins insisted on a trial, contending he'd done nothing wrong. The 
result of his intransigence was a sentence of three to five years in the 
state prison, plus more restitution than he would ever be able to pay.



*(c) 2001  Extar International, Ltd. All rights reserved. Single copies for 
personal, non-commercial use may be downloaded or printed. Any other uses, 
including reposting, or posting on an archive site, must have prior 
permission from Extar International. Comments always welcome.  
<extar@hotmail.com>



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