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Island Fever 4: Paradise
Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com

M/F, F/F and a whole lot more
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Chapter 04: "Condolences"
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   Trish's father, John, was involved in a gruesome, four-car
automobile accident on Thursday, May 21, 2015 while driving
home from his real estate job just outside of Toronto, and
later died at the hospital as a result of the injuries.  His
sudden and tragic passing sent shock waves from Canada all
the way across the world to Norway (the horrific event
actually happened here Friday morning because of different
time zones), where Trish was devastated upon hearing the news,
as was everyone else in our little, tight-knit family.
   Before I go any further, perhaps I should speak about Amy
and our unborn daughter she had so proudly carried around for
the past six months.  Amy became terribly upset and agitated
upon hearing the news of John's death that she clutched her
baby bump in dire pain and nearly toppled over because of the
negative emotions swirling throughout her.  Their relationship
may have started out a bit rocky two years ago, but Amy had
become incredibly close with Trish over the past 18 months.
The accident Trish's father was a victim of basically tore
Amy to shreds, and put our baby in danger.
   But a quick-thinking Kristanna called for an ambulance
almost immediately upon seeing Amy in her condition.  A
registered nurse who dealt with pregnant women on a daily
basis, Scarlett used her expertise and whatever makeshift
items she had available here in our mansion to tend to and
look after Amy until help arrived.  Trish demanded that I go
in the ambulance and be with Amy; Amy and the baby, she
insisted, took far more precedence than her own grief.
   Amy kept telling the paramedics that she was so upset
because she had just received word that she had lost her
very own father, who lived in the United States.  I was
thrown for a loop hearing this, of course, but Amy later
explained to me that she did not want to tell the emergency
personnel that it was actually Trish's father.  "They do not
need to know that Trish and I are engaged, or anything else
specific about our family.  It's none of their business."
   In any event, Amy was rushed to the local hospital and
taken into the emergency room right away.  They put her on 
I-V fluids and gave her a sedative that would hopefully
quell her emotions and anxiety, and get her to settle down.
But the best immediate therapy, the attending doctor told me,
was for me to continue to hold Amy's hand, reassure and kiss
her, and do everything in my power to help get her (and our
unborn child) through this horrible ordeal.
   They ran a battery of tests on Amy because she had felt
discomfort where the baby was.  They found a very high level
of a chemical called corticotropin-releasing hormone (or CRH)
in her bloodstream.  The doctor explained that this was one
of the many chemicals that the brain releases during intense
moments of stress.  Excessive amounts of CRH, he told us,
could attack the mast cells in the uterus of a pregnant woman,
and wreak havoc on it and the baby, and cause a miscarriage.
   "Mast cells in the uterus are similar to a basketball that
is full of 100 ping-pong balls, and each ping-pong ball has
about 30 marbles.  If disturbed, these cells may explode like
a grenade to trigger a chain reaction by releasing all those
balls of histamine and many other, various chemicals."
   "Tryptase, one of many chemicals released by the damaged 
mast cell, destroys tissue and prevents the production of 
membranes to develop and nurture the uterus, and disrupts 
the whole architecture of the placenta that feeds the baby.  
When this happens, a miscarriage may occur."
   "We have ways of temporarily blocking the action of CRH on
mast cells, however," the doctor informed us, and I felt as
if a massive weight had just been lifted from my shoulders.
Amy began to cry tears of joy - obviously thinking our
daughter may be saved because of this - as the physician
explained, "We are going to give you a vaginal suppository
full of drugs that will block the CRH receptors completely."
   The doctor told Amy that he understood that she was upset
at the loss of _her father_, but she had to think about
herself and the health of her baby, and really settle down.
He gave her a strong tranquilizer after administering the
suppository, and she was admitted to the hospital and placed
in a standard room.  After that, the medicine began to make
her feel extremely tired, and she fell asleep.
   Well, take my word for it - it certainly is no fun to sit
idly by in a hospital room while your six-month pregnant wife
is propped up in bed with various wires and devices attached
to different parts of her body, three I-V bags dangling above
her head, and a sick, disturbed complexion upon her face as
she slept away.  Oh, and the wellness of your unborn child is
in question.  I felt absolutely powerless to do anything...
   I had been speaking with Kristanna on the telephone
throughout the entire morning, as well as texting her, giving
her updates on Amy's condition that she quickly relayed to
the other ladies.  They were all gravely worried for her, but
we stuck to our predetermined plan in the event of an
emergency like this.  There was no need for everyone to be
here and possibly overwhelm Amy all at once, and make things
worse.  Amy had four wives, one fiancee and one girlfriend
out of the group.  She also had a husband, obviously.  But
our steadfast rule - unless it was an extreme situation - was
that no more than three people could visit at a time in the
case of a hospitalization like this.
   We did not want others - be it hospital personnel or just
regular visitors - to become overly suspicious of us and our
situation.  That could very well happen if seven people were
fawning over Amy simultaneously for extended periods of time.
We were not looking to broadcast our family structure to the 
general public at all.  Again, it was one of the very few 
drawbacks of our relationship.

   When I heard a noise from behind me, I naturally assumed it
was the nurse.  But when I turned, I hopped up and immediately
rushed over to Trish and hugged her fiercely.  She, along with
Lindsay, were the first visitors of the day.  In the mass
hysteria earlier, I did not even get to talk to Trish and
offer her my condolences on the passing of her father.
   Trish and I shared a deep and emotional, heartfelt embrace
that lasted a good 45 seconds, but then her focus shifted to
Amy.  Trish, along with Lindsay, went to Amy's bedside and,
although she was still sleeping, each of them grasped a hand
and gently kissed her forehead and cheek.
   They asked me how Amy was doing and if there had been any
update on her condition.  Sure enough, Amy drifted out of her
sleep and offered a shocked double-take once she realized
that Trish was in the room with her.  The two hugged, and
Trish pleaded with Amy to stay calm and not concern herself
with the grief she was experiencing.  "Your health, and the
health of your baby, is far more important to me than the
grief I am currently going through."
   After more chatter, Lindsay suggested that I take Trish
to the hospital cafeteria and get an early lunch with her.
"I will stay with Amy and keep her company," she told us.
Lindsay was pretty adamant that I step outside with Trish,
but did her best not to obvious about it in front of Amy.
   Once we exited the hospital room and got into the elevator
to go to the cafeteria, Trish immediately broke down and
tossed her arms around me in a wild, needful embrace.  Safely
away from Amy, and without fear of upsetting her, Trish made
mention of her father and openly wept and sobbed even after
the elevator door had opened, and others saw us.  I quickly
took Trish into a little alcove in the side hallway, away 
from the primary foot traffic, and let her have her cry.
   The poor woman had lost her father just hours ago in an
automobile accident.  I had no idea whether or not she put
any sort of blame on herself as to Amy being in the hospital
right now.  Knowing Trish, though, she probably did.  If Amy
lost her baby, Trish may ultimately blame herself for it.
There was no way that could happen.  Was there?

   But what about me?

   I was supposed to be the head of our family.  Everyone,
whenever there was a problem or issue, ultimately seemed to
look toward me for guidance and answers.  Usually, I had
them.  I had a cool, calm nature, and liked to think that I
made good and informed decisions that were in the best
interest of our family and its long-term stability and growth.
   But I felt so incredibly powerless right now.  I felt sick
myself; hurt, confused... one wife had just lost her father,
while another was in the hospital with our baby in danger.
Could I do anything to help either of them?  My spirit was
wobbly and, quite frankly, my soul was broken.

                           * * *

   The hospital staff kept a very close eye on Amy, as well
as our child, throughout the afternoon and into the evening
and overnight hours.  They gave her another suppository
around 8:00pm and kept her subdued and tired - and most
importantly, relaxed - with various other medications.
   After Trish and Lindsay left, Kristanna and Devon showed
up five minutes later and brought along bushels of flowers,
balloons and teddy bears to help enliven Amy's spirits.
After their departure, in trotted Pamela and Scarlett, who
had been called into work earlier at the big hospital in
Oslo.  It seemed as if they were all in the parking lot,
waiting for each little sub-group to leave.
   "I told work I couldn't come in," Scarlett informed me.
"Family comes first, you know."
   The doctor was back the following morning with the best
of news - our daughter was safe, it seemed, and Amy could
even go home in a couple of hours!  He spoke to her at
length about controlling her emotions while attending the
funeral of _her father_.  That verbiage did not seem right
to me at all!  How could Amy have told him that?
   In any event, the doctor prescribed some sedatives for
Amy that would tide her through the next couple of days.
He also gave her three more suppository pills - one to be
taken the morning of the funeral, one the night of, and
the final the following morning.  Scarlett quickly
volunteered herself as the one to administer them to her.
   It was okay for Amy to grieve and let her feelings out at
the funeral, the physician said.  But if Amy felt any pain
or discomfort in her abdomen at any given time during this
whole process, the good doctor insisted that she was to go
straight to the emergency room.
   It was at this time that I informed the doctor that the
funeral would actually take place nearly 4,000 miles away in
Canada.  I asked him if it would safe for Amy to fly, perhaps
as early as tomorrow.  He said that would be perfectly fine.

   Once we arrived home from the hospital three hours later,
several of the ladies took it upon themselves to look after
Amy and tend to her every whim.  This allowed me to hook up
with Trish, and ultimately her family in Canada, and find out 
the dates and times of the visitation and then the funeral 
itself, and what could get us clear across the Atlantic Ocean 
as soon as possible.
   Today was Saturday, and John's funeral was scheduled a
mere three days from now on Tuesday in Trish's original
hometown of [City Name], Ontario.  The quick turn-around
presented several challenges and hurdles for our family,
but I felt it was nothing that we could not pull through.
   I let go of our previous private flight crew who had
piloted our family jetliner, an _Airbus A319 ACJ_, last
month and just recently hired a new one.  I got into contact
with the captain of the crew (Mike), a retired US Air Force
pilot based out of Oslo, who bravely served and protected
his country during the Gulf War.  Mike assured me that the
other three members of the crew - his wife (Carolyn), her
sister (Barbara (these being the two stewardesses)) and
Mike's best friend and former running mate in the Air Force
(co-pilot Craig) would have no issues escorting us to Canada
on Sunday morning.  With such short notice (less than 24
hours!) and as a show of my extreme appreciation, I told Mike
that I would pay him and his crew triple their standard fee.
   Kristanna's parents - Kristof and Rande - quickly stepped
up and volunteered to watch the two infant children, Kaden 
and Piper, for the duration of our trip if we wanted them to.
Kristof and Rande were very close with all of us, of course, 
and took care of both Kaden and Piper last December when our 
entourage traveled to Ohio for an entire week to first 
prepare for, then attend Trish and Lindsay's wedding.  They 
lived on the opposite end of this sprawling, 300-acre farm.
   Kaden (10 months) and Piper (6 months) were old enough,
and more than developed enough, to travel on a long,
transoceanic flight from Norway to Canada.  Kristanna and
Pamela, their respective mothers, decided to bring both of
them on the trip instead of leaving them behind in Norway.
Still, they thanked Kristof and Rande for the offer.
   Scarlett requested two weeks of _compassionate leave_
(Norway's term for bereavement) from her employer, and was
granted it.  That was very surprising to me, until Scarlett
told me that she informed her superiors, "my fiance's father
died."  I kind of threw my hands up and became exasperated
upon hearing that, simply because _I_ was her only fiance,
and I did not like to think of my own father - who lived in
California - as being deceased.  Scarlett kind of shrugged
her shoulders, though, and retorted, "Amy will be my fiancee
soon enough, you know."  I still did not approve...
   We spent the majority of Saturday night packing suitcases
and making any last minute arrangements and telephone calls
in preparation for our trip.  Amy was in much better spirits,
both physically and emotionally, and well over the initial
shock of the news concerning Trish's father and his passing.
Regardless, we were going to watch after her intently.
   The private flight crew was excellent as advertised; they
loaded our luggage and made sure the interior of the plane
was as comfortable and as well prepared as could be.  I was
the last to board the jetliner, and found Kristanna sitting
near the front, having a nice and pleasant conversation with
the pilot, Mike.  Kristanna had the unique ability to talk
to anyone and make them feel within mere minutes that they
had re-connected with an old, long-lost friend.  Kristanna
was smiling and jovial, and had Mike laughing up a storm.
That woman and her personality was just so... infectious.
   The crew kept us hydrated and well-fed, and did their
utmost to ensure that everyone had an enjoyable trip from
Oslo to Pearson International Airport in the heart of
downtown Toronto.  It was a straight, one-way flight.
   We departed Norway at 9:05am, and touched down safe and
sound in Canada at 11:17am.  Keep in mind, there was a six
hour time difference, so the flight itself actually took a
total of eight hours.
   Kaden and Piper seemed to be perfectly fine.  They napped
for a good portion of the trip, and we kept them engaged and
entertained when they were actually awake.  There was no
apparent issues with either of them (thank God).  The doctor
assured us Saturday evening that they should be fine.
   Best of all, Amy was relaxed and reported no discomfort
at all.  She slept for a long stretch of the flight on the
big waterbed in the primary bedroom (private, customized
aircrafts such as mine have these high-end luxuries).  I 
actually found leisure in playing video games with Lindsay.
   We rented two vehicles at the airport - a pair of _Jeep
Grand Cherokees_ - and went straight to [City Name].  Trish
drove one of the vehicles, with Devon, Lindsay and Scarlett
with her, while I followed along close behind with Kristanna,
Pamela and Amy included (and the babies).  The drive was
short; only about 17 miles, and took less than 30 minutes
in the busy and hectic weekend traffic.
   My heart sank within my chest and I fought the urge to
break down and cry as Trish had a tearful reunion with her
mother, Alice, and her two sisters, Christie and Melissa.
The family was just in absolute shambles because their
pillar and rock, John, had been ripped away from them so
suddenly, and without warning.  Very simply, it was not fair!
Kristanna and Scarlett promised to both keep a close watch
on Amy over the next few days.  Amy certainly could not be
allowed to become too frantic or upset.
   I stayed at the family home for four hours and caught up
with Alice, Christie and Melissa (I had not seen them since
a trip here back in December).  I listened to them share
memories and funny stories about John, but knew that I needed
to check into our hotel and get everything situated and
squared away with it.
   Scarlett volunteered to go back to downtown Toronto with
me so I would not have to do it alone.  We went to our regular
hotel for whenever we stayed here, the _Ritz-Carlton Toronto_.
As luck would have it, their most expensive and luxurious
suite was available, and we quickly reserved it even before
leaving Norway.  We were able to check-in, and have all of
our luggage taken to the $6,000-a-night room.
   Located on the 19th floor of this 53 story structure, the
suite was prosperity at its finest.  But what I enjoyed most
about the _Ritz-Carlton Toronto_ was that many of its staff,
including the manager himself, remembered us immediately from
our prior visit five months ago (and the visits before it,
too).  The manager was very professional and friendly, and
asked if the whole contingent (the ladies) would eventually
be joining us as well.  I told him all of them were here.
   The manager made a nice comment about "our Toronto girl", 
then immediately instructed two hotel employees to "find all 
the _Kool-Aid_ packs you can, because she loves it with a 
passion."  Little touches like that meant a lot to me.  
_Kool-Aid_ was Trish's favorite drink - bar none - and the 
manager of this multi-billion dollar hotel himself actually
remembered that from our prior visits.  That was what I call
five-star customer service at its finest.
   Of course, I was not naive enough to think that he could
possibly remember every guest who ever walked through the
doors of his hotel.  I was a big spender, no doubt, and not
afraid to purchase anything.  Money was of no object to me.
I had spent quite lavishly here in the past, and he knew
that.  Our continued business and patronage was very
important to the hotel manager.  I left him a personal $1,000
tip last time; it only stands to reason that he, of course,
would remember us, and little, seemingly minor details about
us (Trish's _Kool-Aid_, for example).
   Still, I had always been impressed with him, and the level
of service we received while staying here.  That was why I
gave him the massive tip last time to begin with.
   I also asked him to make sure that my flight crew - Mike,
Craig, Carolyn and Barbara - were well taken of as well.  I
had rented a pair of high-cost suites for them, too.
   Scarlett was feeling a bit bummed out from the long
airline flight, so I promptly took her up to our room and
insisted that she kick back, and relax.  I drew a hot bubble
bath and helped her into it, and even gave her a scrub-down
that had its fair share of playful moments.  But at the same
time, however, I knew that I had to get back to Trish and
her family in their hometown of [City Name].
   I told Scarlett to continue with her bubble bath and take
a nap if she so desired; I was going to leave her for now,
but would be back later with everyone else in tow.  I also
instructed Scarlett to order any item from room service that
she wanted and, of course, I was just a telephone call away if
anything else popped up.  Scarlett wanted to go back and be
with Trish as well, but she began to feel worse than before,
and staying here in the hotel to rest was her best option.
   I returned to the humble and quaint [Last Name] family
home by myself just in time for dinner at 6:00pm.  I could
tell that a tremendous amount of tears had been shed in my
absence.  Kristanna later explained that everyone spent a
good part of the afternoon watching old home movies of John
and Alice, and their three daughters including Trish, and
going through just about every photo album they had.  Amy,
though, had managed to stay on a pretty even keel.
   Lindsay was still horribly overwrought with pain and
frustration over the passing of her beloved wife's father.
Even though it happened two-and-a-half years ago, the subject
of Lindsay's own father - and his untimely death due to a
massive coronary - was still an incredibly sensitive subject
for her.  There was not a single day that went by where
Lindsay did not mention her father and how much she missed 
him.  Lindsay always spoke with sheer reverence about him; he
had always been her hero and idol.  It still made her cry -
although it happened back in November 2012 - that he was gone.
   So, the news of this latest tragedy really, truly hit home
for Lindsay.  It struck a definite nerve within her.  Trish,
of course, was even worse.  She was still in shock, and had
already gone through extreme bouts of depression and anger
just over the past two days alone.  The automobile accident
was not caused by her father; John was not at fault, but he
paid the ultimate price as a result of it regardless.  
Obviously, there was a lot of anger expressed over that.

   Dinner was fairly mundane and uneventful.  Alice ordered
Chinese food, but we ate in a mostly somber silence.  By the
time it was 8:00pm, Kaden and Piper were starting to get
really cranky and irritable.  With it being 2:00am back home
in Norway, most of us were not used to staying up this late.
Add in the long and taxing airline flight, and many of us
were just flat-out exhausted.  We all decided to retire for
the evening, and went back to the _Ritz-Carlton_ hotel.
   Fortunately, Scarlett was feeling better after her bubble
bath and a subsequent two hour nap.  She greeted us at the
door, and shared an extra long, special hug with Trish, who
was still visibly shaken and distraught with everything.
She also checked in with Amy, and spoke with her at length.
   I took a three-way shower with Kristanna and Devon, but
there were really no sexual overtones or innuendo involved
in it whatsoever.  We helped each other clean and wash up,
but neither of them were in their usual, vibrant moods.  I
am certain the same could be said for Pamela, Trish, Lindsay
and Amy as they took a quadruple shower after us; there was
almost assuredly nothing sexual about their time in it.
   There were two king-sized beds, both of them in different
rooms of the 2,400 square foot suite, and a pull-out sofa in
the den.  I opted for one room with Pamela and Amy, while
Kristanna, Devon and Scarlett claimed the other.  That left
the sofa bed to Trish and Lindsay, who did not mind one bit.
   I tried to fall asleep afterward, but found it damn near
impossible.  Oh, it was not because I had two impeccable
beauties nestled up close to me in Pamela and Amy.  Rather,
it was because my own stomach was now in painful knots, and
I felt sick inside.  I was simply thinking about Trish,
while still worrying about Amy at the same time.
   At 2:00am, I still had yet to fall asleep.  I decided to
get out of bed and snack on something in the kitchen.  I felt
even more hollow inside as when I went out to the main room,
I heard Trish sobbing.  Lindsay was sleeping away rather
peacefully next to her, but Trish was definitely crying -
albeit gently, and not wanting to cause a fuss.
   "Hey," I whispered, rushing to her side.  Trish turned and
looked up at me; all I could see was her silhouette in the
darkness.  I latched onto her arm and again spoke in a hushed
tone, "Trish, my God!"  Tears began to form within my eyes as
I pleaded, "Tell me what I can do to help you..."
   "Jeremy..." Trish whined in response, tenderly wrapping her
arms around me.  She obviously did not want to wake or rouse
Lindsay in the slightest.  "Jeremy, I... I feel so... bad."
   "You gotta get some sleep," I urged her.  I held her even
closer, but soon began to fear that her crying, which was
suddenly becoming louder, would wake Lindsay.  Or even Amy.  
So, I swept Trish up into my arms - as if she was a small 
child - and carried her off to the kitchen.  Still in the 
darkness, I propped Trish across the counter and literally 
smashed her face into my chest, and then she began to wail 
and sob much more profusely than before.
   "Just let it all out," were my words, hoping that the
others were safely out of earshot.  After all, doing so was
probably the best - if maybe the only - therapy for her.
Trish needed to let all of her emotions pour out.

                           * * *

   I was exhausted beyond any and all reason, but I still
found myself in the posh, exclusive lounge of the hotel an
hour later at 3:00am.  I had convinced Trish to leave the
suite and take a walk with me throughout the hotel.  In our
travels, where I held and kissed Trish's hand repeatedly, and
listened to her speak her mind, we came across _the most_
comfortable sofa in the VIP lounge, which was mostly deserted.
It was good for Trish, I thought, to get out for a bit.  She
needed to stretch her legs, so to speak, and clear her mind.
   "Mom told me earlier that Dad was so very proud of me,"
Trish sighed, seated across from me upon the plush sofa.
Her long-flowing, healthy brown hair was a catastrophe, and
she wore baggy sweat pants and an old, raggedy t-shirt.  But
Trish still looked beautiful to me.  She always did.
   "Mom said Dad was very proud last year when we actually
went through with the wedding - Lindsay and I - and got
married in a regular church, with hundreds of people in
attendance," Trish added.  "Everything about my marriage to
Lindsay was normal and typical, and standard... except for
the simple fact that we were two women, not a man and woman."
   "We did not hide anything about our wedding, or our love
for each other.  It was not a private, little ceremony.  Mom
said Dad was SO PROUD of me because of that.  I had the
courage and the will, he thought, the wherewithal, the GUTS,
to do something different, and marry another woman despite
what some certain other people thought of it."
   "Dad knew that I was in love with Lindsay, and she meant
the world to me," Trish mewed.  "She still does.  He was so
happy, Mom said, that I followed my heart, and did not back
down from what I wanted.  Him and Mom have never quite
understood my attraction for women.  Neither have my two
sisters, Christie and Melissa.  None of them, though, ever
judged me for it.  They have always been very supportive."
   I offered a faint smile.  "Your parents have always known
that about you, right?"
   "Since high school, yes," Trish nodded.  "I had a lot of
different thoughts and ideas back then going through my
mind.  I just remember one day, it was a weekend, I went into
the living room and saw both Mom and Dad watching television.
I think I must have been 15 years old, maybe 16, at the time.
I asked if I could talk with them for a bit.  They said yes.
I said I was confused.  I said, _I don't know, but I think
I might be a lesbian_.  That's how they found out."
   "What did they say?"
   Trish shrugged her shoulders.  "What could they say?  That
was probably the absolute, last thing either of my parents
expected I would ever say to them.  We talked for a long time
about it.  They were supportive.  They were always supportive
of me.  My Dad said, _Trish, I want you to do whatever makes
you happy_.  _I want you to be with whomever makes you happy,
be it a guy, or a girl_.  _You have my support, 100 percent_."
   "As it turned out, obviously, I am bisexual.  I learned 
that I had an equal attraction for both men and women.  I 
eventually chose to ignore a person's gender.  It had no say
or relevance into whether or not I was attracted to someone."
   "When I first to the island and met you, Jeremy, and all
of the other girls, I called my parents that first week and
told them that _I WAS IN LOVE_.  I had found the person of my
dreams, and it was Lindsay - it was another girl.  I told
Mom and Dad that I was going to marry her one day, and we
would live happily ever after.  I laid out everything for
them - my whole grand scheme.  Mom and Dad were so happy."
   "Of course, little did I know that I would go through all
those problems with Lindsay, and we would not even talk to
each other for an entire month.  I did not understand why
Lindsay was not interested in me at the time.  I called Mom
and Dad every day, and EVERY DAY, I whined and complained to
them about Lindsay.  I did not understand why we weren't
together.  Mom and Dad knew how much I loved her."
   Trish actually cracked a smile, though it was a small one.
"Then, all of a sudden, I am back with Lindsay, and everything
in the world is right.  Mom and Dad were overjoyed.  Do you
remember the first time they met Lindsay, Jeremy?  Mom asked
Lindsay when was she was FINALLY going to marry me."  Trish 
stifled a giggle (hey, it was progress) and added, "I was SO 
mad at Mom for that!  But we laughed about it afterward."
   "Anyway, Mom told me earlier that Dad was so proud of me,"
she reiterated.  "He said I was strong and courageous, and he
was overjoyed that Lindsay and I got married in a big, lavish
wedding and thus, we did not hide our love for each other from
no one."  Trish glanced downward, trying to hide the surge of
hurt suddenly flashing across her face.  "In fact, Mom said
Dad had never been more proud of me... than he was on the day
Lindsay and I... got married.  Never more pr-proud of m-me..."
   "They still do not quite understand our marriage now,
though, and the whole group dynamic?" I inquired.
   "No, and they probably never will," Trish frowned.
"Talking my mom and my two sisters now, I suppose.  They
know you are a good man, Jeremy, and that you love and care
for me.  So did Dad.  My whole family would be perfectly fine
with Lindsay as my wife, and you as my husband.  It would be
different, yes, but they would be perfectly fine with it."
   "It's just when you start throwing the other girls into
the mix - like a Kristanna, like a Pamela and the others -
that's when it becomes confusing to them.  It is difficult
for my family to comprehend me being in a relationship with
six other women and one man."
   "But you know what?" Trish added.  "My dad always asked
me if I was happy.  He would call me on the telephone and
ask if I am happy.  He did not understand our relationship,
but because I was happy, he supported it.  Mom, Christie and
Melissa all took his cue."  Trish frowned again.  "He was a
wonderful father; the best father in the world.  And... I...
I'm going to miss h-him.  Dad was... he was my best friend."
   Trish suddenly began to cry.  "I t-told him not too l-long
ago, th-th-that I planned on delivering a li-little grandson,
or granddaughter, for him soon.  I... I can't be-be-believe...
he wo-won't be around, when the time c-c-comes."
   Again, I brought Trish into my arms and lovingly held and
caressed her.  There was really nothing for me to say in
response to that.  I had always known that Trish dreamed of
being a parent one day, and looked forward to the idea of
her own mother and father being involved in some fashion with
the childbirth.  I actually began to feel guilty that I had
not already made that dream a reality for Trish, and that
John would never get the opportunity to meet her children.
   I was going to keep blaming myself for everything, it 
seemed, and fall deeper and deeper into the abyss.  Perhaps 
one day, the hole would be so deep that I may never get out.
   Exasperated, I settled upon the sofa, and felt my eyelids
starting to get really heavy.  They were slowly closing, and
I could not fight it.  My last memory of the late evening was
Trish sobbing oh-so-gently, but I had the feeling that she 
was about to pass out at any given moment - like I just did...

                           * * *

   "Mr. and Mrs. [Last Name]," I heard next, a man's voice
bringing me out of a peaceful slumber.  I opened my eyes and
saw the hotel manager - the same gentleman who I found to be
so very attentive and thoughtful - standing over me, with a
concierge employee next to him.  Startled and temporarily
unsure of my surroundings (or even where I was), I jerked
about upon the sofa, and then realized that Trish was all
nice and snuggled within my arms.
   "I apologize, sir," the manager said, "but it is five in
the morning, and the breakfast crowd will be coming in soon.
I imagine you do not want to be sleeping amongst a sea of
strangers who are enjoying their breakfast meals?"
   "No..." I told him, trying to clear the mental cobwebs.
   "Jeremy?" I heard Trish moan, as she began to rustle about.
"Where's Lindsay?" she asked involuntarily - without even a
thought - before realizing that we had company with us.  "Oh,"
Trish murmured, looking up at them groggily.  "Hi?"
   "Good morning, ma'am," the manager smiled back at her.
   "It's been a rough 24 or 36 hours," I told him, and the
other employee.  "Maybe 48... I'm not quite sure anymore.
My wife lost her father, he died on... Friday.  No... that
was Norway time... it was Thur... Thursday here.  We flew
4,000 miles to get here, and she was so upset overnight, I...
I took her out for a walk, and we stopped here.  We... we
must have dozed off here... on the sofa, overnight.  I am
sorry if it caused any issues."
   "It's not a problem at all, sir, and my sincerest and
deepest apologies for the loss of your father, ma'am," he
told us.  "I lost my father five years ago; it is not easy.
I just thought you may prefer to sleep in your room is all."
   "That's... a good idea," I sighed.
   He motioned toward the hotel clerk, who promptly handed
me my tablet.  "That was on the floor next to you, sir.  I
suggest you check the sofa cushions in case you dropped
anything else.  Please make sure nothing is missing before
you go back to your room.  If either of us could be of any
further assistance to you, please, do not hesitate to ask."
   "Thank you."
   He smiled at Trish.  "Did we have enough _Kool-Aid_
packages delivered to your suite, Mrs. [Last Name]?"
   "More than enough," Trish smirked in response.

                           * * *

   Fortunately, all of the other ladies were still fast
asleep (as were Kaden and Piper) when Trish and I returned to
the hotel suite a few moments later.  I had left them a note
indicating that Trish and I were stepping out for a bit, but 
would be back later.  As it turned out, the note was not 
necessary.  I crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash.
   I gave Trish a hug and a kiss, and she promptly slinked
back onto the pull-out sofa bed and cuddled with her precious
Lindsay.  If there was only one place that Trish would find 
solace and comfort, I knew that it would be in Lindsay's arms.
   Then, I went back to the side room, and crawled into bed 
with the lovely duo of Pamela and Amy.  I splayed a series of
loving kisses upon Amy's baby bump, and made her giggle in 
the process even as she continued to sleep.  A mere three 
minutes later, I was out like a light again.  It was time 
for me to finally get some much-needed rest.

                           * * *

   "Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man," Lindsay sang to
Kaden several hours later in a soft, loving tone, as they sat
across from each other upon the pull-out sofa bed and
bopped hands in unison.  "Bake me a cake as fast as you can."
   It was just past noon here at the hotel.  I was relaxing in
the adjacent chair while Kristanna leaned against the wall,
sipping a cup of coffee, both of us watching (and admiring)
Lindsay as she sang nursery rhymes to our little son in order
to keep him engaged, and happy.  Lindsay, like Trish, was
going to be an excellent mother one day.
   "Roll it, pat it, mark it with a B," Lindsay continued in
verse.  "Put it in the oven for baby and me!"
   Kaden was squealing and full of absolute delight.  He was
always so happy whenever Lindsay played with him.  The past
two days had obviously been quite somber for our group, but
Lindsay made up her mind earlier this morning that she did not
want those negative thoughts and emotions to spill over and
effect Kaden and/or Piper any more than they already had.
We still had the funeral to attend, obviously, and it would
be difficult.  Outside of the extreme moments, however,
Lindsay was intent on seeing that the two infants saw 
nothing but positive energy and emotions.
   "Old MacDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O," Lindsay chirped,
starting a new song.  "And on that farm he had some chickens,
E-I-E-I-O.  With a _bawk, bawk_ here, and a _bawk, bawk_
there, here a _bawk_, there a _bawk_, everywhere a _bawk,
bawk_, Old MacDonald had a farm... E-I-E-I-O."
   "I think we're all ready to go," Trish announced as she
stepped into the den, Devon and Scarlett close behind her.
"The visitation starts in three hours; I want to be early."
   "Where is Pamela and Amy?" Kristanna wondered.
   "They are finishing changing Piper as we speak," Devon
said.  "Should be out here with us any second."
   "There's my little princess!" Kristanna swooned seconds
later as indeed, Pamela appeared with Piper cradled in her
arms.  Kristanna reached out and tickled Piper's cheek with
a single fingertip.  "Hi there, honey!  Hi!"  Smiling, Amy
appeared from behind Pamela and immediately hugged Trish.

   The next 36 hours were a real trial for me.  For us.

   I am a very protective person - always have been - and am
not afraid to go to whatever lengths are necessary to ease
the pain or any anxiety of a loved one, or put an end to it
altogether.  That statement multiples ten-fold when any of
my six precious wives, or Scarlett, are involved.  I would do
anything I could to protect them, and shield them from any
and all harm.  Even if it meant sacrificing my own life.
   Yet again, I felt powerless; unable to help Trish and make
her feel any better and in more comfort.  We spent five hours
at what was a three hour visitation at the funeral home for
her father - arriving an hour early, and leaving an hour
late.  Hundreds of people, friends and family alike, stopped
by to offer their well wishes and words of condolence for the
family.  Not only was Trish there with her mother and
sisters, but her grandparents - John's parents themselves -
were both in attendance as well.  There were lots of tears
and even some happy smiles, but they centered upon memories
of John, and not the actual occasion itself.
   Kristanna, who always seemed to have a finger on my inner
pulse, could easily sense my frustration.  She knew that I
wanted to take Trish's pain away, but it was impossible for
me to do so.  Kristanna was the one who actually encouraged
me; she told me to stay the course, and lend Trish whatever
support and love I could.  Kristanna would do the same.  She
was also well aware that I was still worried about Amy.
   I treated the entire group - the girls (and babies), as
well as Trish's family including her grandparents - to
dinner at _Turtle Jack's_ afterward, a fancy restaurant just
outside of Toronto that both Christie and Melissa suggested.  
Trish said she enjoyed the food there as well, but obviously
had not been there in a couple of years.
   The menu was huge, but I personally opted for the _nacho
extravaganza_.  Crisp tortillas topped with cheddar and
mozzarella cheese, then oven baked and sprinkled with shredded
lettuce, pico de gallo, fresh sliced jalapenos, green onions
and salsa, and finally doused in sour cream, the meal was
just as delicious as it sounds.  I had barley soup on the
side along with a caesar salad, and shared a big plate of
flash-fried tiger shrimp as an appetizer with the others.

   But the next morning, I felt even more sick and useless
inside.  There are simply no words that can describe what it
feels like to wake up on the morning of a funeral, especially
when it is for your wife's father, and you know they will be
putting him to rest for the final time.
   We all woke up early and got ready.  Everyone was dressed
for the occasion; many of the girls chose business jackets
and slacks, while Kristanna and Scarlett opted for dark,
full-length dresses that seemed to befit a funeral.  Normally
I would gush and go on here about how insanely beautiful all
of them looked in such formal attire, but I honestly did not
even notice.  My mind was way too preoccupied.
   On a side note, unlike at the hospital, Amy did not take
well to receiving her vaginal suppository.  Scarlett had
obviously done this sort of thing before, so I trusted that
she inserted it correctly.  Still, Amy whined and complained 
for a bit, but eventually was able to settle down.
   We were back at the funeral home at 9:00am.  The service
was not going to begin until 11:00am.  Trish and her loved
ones stood at the entrance for the most part, and greeted
nearly everyone who showed up with kind words and hugs.  The
whole place was decorated with flowers and photographs.  I
go back to the thoughtful manager of the _Ritz-Carlton_;
even he sent a massive, lovely bouquet, on behalf of the
hotel and its staff.  Oh, he would be getting another tip...
   Reverend Clyde oversaw the ceremony itself; he gave a
touching, emotional speech about the cycle of life and death
that left nearly everyone in tears.  In the middle of his
presentation, though, Reverend Clyde volunteered to step to
the side because "...Patricia, John's beloved daughter, has
a poem that she would like to share with all of you."
   Unaware that this would happen, I watched Trish as she
strolled up to the podium with a piece of paper in hand.
It took her a moment or two to calm down and collect herself.
Once doing so, however, Trish shared a few brief memories
about her father, but then said, "I have a poem I wrote late
last night, and I want to read it off to all of you."


        "Dear Dad,
         We love you,
         We miss you so much.
         Your love and your kindness,
         Your soft gentle touch."

        "If we had to live life over,
         We would choose you once more.
         If it meant losing you again,
         It's worth all the tears in the world."

        "While our hearts are now filled,
         With sadness and tears.
         We have many good memories,
         You will always be near."

        "The day you were taken from us,
         Tears fell from the sky.
         Our hearts filled with sorrow,
         Your final goodbye."

        "Thank you for everything,
         But a white butterfly came your way.
         Your soul is at peace,
         And not far away."

        "Your body has died,
         But your spirit lives strong.
         In each one of us,
         Where it forever belongs."

        "Your time here was short,
         We wish you could stay.
         But they need you upstairs,
         The angels called you their way."

        "Spread your wings and fly,
         Up to Heaven you go.
         You will not have the chance to suffer,
         Down on Earth here below."

        "They won't hear you coming,
         So softly you walk.
         When you get up to Heaven,
         Make sure that you knock."

        "You can play tennis all you want,
         Through the woods you can bike.
         Drive where ever you please,
         Up the mountain you may hike."

        "In the breeze we hear your whisper,
         Feel your warmth from the sun.
         Upon the lake we see your reflection,
         In the stream we see you run."

        "Until the day comes,
         That we cross over too.
         Our family will not be complete,
         Until we meet that day with you."
         
        "I love you, Daddy..."


   Trish was somehow able to maintain her composure
throughout that entire reading, but broke down at the podium
and began sobbing the very instant it was finished.  Christie
and Melissa rushed to her side and the three sisters shared a
deep-rooted, emotional embrace.  Seated next to me, Lindsay
had already lost complete and total control of her faculties.
That poem sent her over the edge.  She was a train wreck.
   I glanced toward the back of the funeral room, where Amy
was seated between Kristanna and Scarlett.  All three of them
were crying as well, but I felt a sudden, undeniable sense of
ease as it pertained to Amy.  I did not feel the urge to rush
back there and ask if she was okay, or if she felt any pain in
her abdomen.  Amy had Kristanna and Scarlett watching over
her, monitoring her, making sure she was stable and safe.  For
the past several days, those two were her guardian angels.
Could there be anyone better for the job than either of them?
   After the ceremony was complete, I got into the rental
vehicle with Trish and Lindsay, and followed the procession 
line to the grave site some 15 miles away.  The quintet of 
Kristanna, Devon, Pamela, Amy and Scarlett, as well as Kaden
and Piper, were somewhere far back toward the end of the line,
in the other rental.  They were fine with that.
   Perhaps the most emotional and heartbreaking moment of the
entire day - and the whole process - was watching John's
closed casket being lowered into the ground by a special
machine.  There was some debate beforehand about whether or
not this should happen in front of everyone, but it was
ultimately decided that bearing witness to the lowering of
the casket would bring with it ultimate, final closure.

                           * * *

   There was a gathering afterward at the [Last Name] family
home where, thanks to the culinary efforts of Kristanna and
Devon, everyone present was treated to a marvelous dinner.  I
found great peace in playing with Jacob and Cindy, Christie's
7-year-old son and 4-year-old daughter, respectively, out at
the swing sets and slide.  I was able to take my suit jacket
off and untuck my shirt, and simply have fun.  I knew that in
no time flat, that would be Kaden, Piper and yes, even sweet 
Dani Grace, squealing and asking me to push them on the swing 
set - as well as any future children of ours.
   "Higher Daddy, push me HIGHER!" I envisioned a 4-year-old
Dani Grace pleading with me as she swung back-and-forth on
the swing set, with the occasional nudge in the back from me,
while her mother, Amy, looked on and smiled.  The mere
thought, as you may imagine, definitely warmed my heart.
   Reverend Clyde did a magnificent job conducting the
ceremony at the funeral home.  One thing he said during it
really stood out to me, however, and struck a deep nerve.
   "Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, yet love leaves
a memory no one can steal."
   It was a touching comment, indeed, and one I would surely
never forget.  I could not agree with it more, either.
   I should also point out that I was incredibly relieved
that Amy made it through the funeral in one piece.  Amy shed
a bunch of tears, no doubt, but acted nothing like she did on
the morning upon first learning of John's passing.
   Amy rested comfortably on the sofa alongside Kristanna
after dinner, and seemed lively and very talkative.  It was
at this point when I got the sense that any potential issues
Amy had with her pregnancy were resolved.  Everything was
back on track, and Dani Grace would finally join our family
(and make it all the more loving) in about three months.

   Originally, our entourage was going to leave Toronto on
Thursday afternoon and make our return to Norway Friday
morning.  However, with Scarlett not scheduled to return to
work until Monday, June 8 (which was 13 days away), the ladies
and I did some brainstorming the night before the funeral, and
all of us mutually decided that it would be an excellent idea
to pay a visit to the sheer pinnacle of opulence and tropical
greenery - the island, off the coast of Lima, Peru, where all
of us (except Scarlett) had once called home.  Really now...
was there a better place in the whole, wide world for our
specific group to heal jagged nerves and mend broken hearts?
   The island and the mansion itself had been kept tidy and
clean by some friends of mine - an older, married couple from
Lima by the names of Harold and Juanita who I allowed to live
there and _watch after_ things for me.  With our little group
planning to vacation on the island through the first week of
June, however, I offered Harold and Juanita an all-expenses
paid trip to Hawaii that would only conclude once we returned
to Norway.  Harold and Juanita happily accepted.
   Of course, I would be remiss if I did not also mention Mike
and his flight crew, two of which were his family members, and
the other his best friend.  I asked him if they would not mind
flying us to Lima on Thursday, then taking us home to Norway 
at the end of the following week.  He immediately told me that 
they would fly us wherever we wanted to go, and at whatever 
time.  I tripled his regular payment again, and offered a free 
vacation to Hawaii for him and his crew as well.
   The only catch, I told him, was that they had to take Harold
and Juanita to Hawaii with them (and then return them to Lima)
so the elderly couple would not have to go on a commercial
flight.  I wanted Harold and Juanita to be treated like true
royalty on the airplane, I told Mike.  He casually smiled at
me and said, "I will not disappoint you, Mr. [Last Name]."
   "Call me Jeremy."

   Getting back to the matter at hand, though, it was up to
our entire family to offer whatever long-term love and support
we could to Trish as she cycled through the grieving process.
Trish would especially need our strength during the holidays
much later in the year, her parents' wedding anniversary and
her father's birthday, which was coming up soon.
   I had faith, though, that Trish would pull through all of
this.  She was too upbeat and too happy, too cheerful, of a
person for even the passing of her father to destroy her
vibrant spirit.  Trish had already spoken with us about that; 
she knew that her father would want her to continue the 
amazing life that she leads.  He would want her to be happy.  
He would not want her to dwell in sadness and despair.
   I received my own personal pick-me-up, though, from
Scarlett.  Scarlett went all _medical provider_ on me,
suggesting that I not worry so much in that I did not have
any specific answers for Trish, or an apparent way to ease
her pain and suffering during these past several days.
   "Just being there for Trish, Jeremy, and giving her
someone to talk and vent to... that gave her the ultimate
comfort," Scarlett explained.  "You allowed Trish to cry,
scream and get angry - and you never showed any resistance,
or told her to settle down.  Those are normal feelings that
need to be expressed for someone who is grieving."
   "Trish may not realize it now, but she will look back in
the future and realize that you supported her through a very
difficult time," Scarlett added.  "It does not matter,
Jeremy, that you felt overwhelmed and awkward, and did not
know what to say.  You gave Trish a shoulder to cry on when
she needed it most, and you did not judge or criticize."
   "Trish will remember that, and it will draw her even
closer to you," Scarlett theorized.  "She will be even
deeper in love with you as a result, and your personal
relationship with her will be ten times stronger."
   "No, do not worry or feel upset or powerless, Jeremy,
because of what happened.  You have no idea how much of a
help you have been to Trish these past few days.  Why?  You
gave her the best therapy she could possibly ever ask for."

   "You gave her... you."



               <<<- End of Chapter 04 ->>>



==---- -- -- -- - --- -- --  -  - --- -- -- --- - -- - - - - --- -- ----==
"Island Fever 4: Paradise

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