“Just in case you’re in overnight,” I explained, guiding her toward the stairs.
She stopped at the top and took a deep breath in, touching her hand to her stomach. A few seconds later, she relaxed. But that didn’t stop her looking at me while she fought back tears. “Lani?”
“Yeah?”
“Everything is gonna be okay, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, of course.” That tasted worse than bitter.
She let go of a long breath. “You promise?”
My heart sunk as I looked at her. I wanted to. I wanted to promise that to her so badly, but I couldn’t.
So I didn’t.
“Come on,” I said quietly. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”
Her voice was barely a whisper when she replied, “Okay.”
One hour later, Connie had been admitted for thirty minutes and I heard the words I didn’t want to hear.
Early labor.
My sister was in labor. Twelve weeks early.
“Can you stop it?” I asked her doctor. She’d changed her schedule to be here for my sister, and I was so grateful for that.
“We can try.” Her answer was straight to the point. I was grateful for that too. She turned to Connie. “We’re going to give you a dose of Magnesium Sulphate in your IV. Now, this isn’t ideal, because it might cause you more nausea, but it might not be so bad since you’ve already had some anti-nausea. We’ll also give you some injections to help the baby’s lungs and brain mature just in case the IV doesn’t work.” She took Connie’s hand. “The good news is that your waters are still intact, and you’re only three centimeters dilated right now. You made the right choice calling when you did,” she added, turning to me. “You may have kept your niece where she needs to be a little longer, and her fever has now gone.”
“What if she doesn’t stay in there?” Connie asked, her voice breaking. “What if she comes now?”
“She’s a good size,” Dr. Gordon told her, patting her hand. “The Corticosteriod injections will help her even more. The NICU here is very good. But I need you not to think about that, Connie. I need you to try to sleep and let the medicines do their work while we wait for the results of your urine and blood tests. Hopefully we’ll find out why you’re here.”
Connie nodded slowly. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Do you need to use the phone to call anyone?” Dr. Gordon said to me. “Your parents? Anyone?”
“Thanks, but it’s okay. I can call our parents when we know exactly what’s happening. They’re not in town.”
She nodded. “Just you still?” she asked Connie.
“Just me.” My sister smiled.
“And me.” I reached over and brushed my fingers across her bump. “Not just you.”
Tears filled her eyes, and I kissed her hand.
Dr. Gordon left us.
Connie turned to me. “I have to tell you. About Emery’s dad.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“I haven’t told anybody because he doesn’t care,” she said quietly. “We met last summer. He was here with friends, and since he was studying in Orlando, he came to see me a few times. He stopped when I told him I was pregnant. He finished school last December, and when I texted him and told him she was a girl, he told me I had the wrong number.”
“Could you have?”
“No. It was the same number he’d called me on before.” She smiled sadly. “I was ashamed and that’s why I haven’t told anyone. Only Grandma knew, but she could get the origins of the universe out of a hunk of granite.”
“That’s very true.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I was alone either way. It didn’t matter.”
“You’re not alone now.” I moved and perched on the bed. “I’m staying, Con. I’m not leaving again.”
“Really?”
“Really. I promise. And when you’re out of here, you’re going to move into Grandma’s with me. There’s more than enough space. We’ll get Emery everything she needs and I promise it’ll all be fine.”
This time, she didn’t fight her tears.
She cried silently until she fell asleep.
She found some peace while I faced the long wait to get her test results and see if her labor could be stopped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
BRETT
“Hey, have you heard from Lani?” I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge.
Camille looked over her shoulder, her hand stuffed into the cookie jar. “No. Why?”
“Get off the cookies.” Aunt Bel yanked Cam’s hand out and replaced it with her own.
I ignored her and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “Connie’s sick. She’s been there since this morning, but it’s almost six and I can’t get hold of her.”
“Have you tried calling Connie?” Cam wrestled the cookie jar away from Aunt Bel the instant she let it go and snagged three.
“Yeah. It rings and goes to her answering machine.” I rubbed my hand down my face. “I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”
“She’s probably sleeping.” She bit into the cookie. “You said earlier Lani’s phone was dead. She probably hasn’t charged it and doesn’t have Connie’s phone. Stop worrying, you big fart.”
Aunt Bel snickered.
I shook my head. It was impossible to hold a real conversation with any of the women in my family except for my mom. Sue me for being worried. It was unlike either of them to not answer their phones, and since Lani said she was running home before going to Connie’s, I thought she might have grabbed her charger.
“Why don’t you just drive past Connie’s house if you’re that worried?” Camille wiped crumbs off her hands into the sink.
“Because if they’re there and they see him he’ll look like a little stalker.” Aunt Bel snickered again.
She wasn’t helping.
“Give it a rest,” I said tiredly. “I just have a bad feeling and I want to know they’re all right.”
“Actually,” Cam said. “I feel like that too. Like something kinda bad is happening. Do you think it’s the baby?”
I shrugged. “She was sick. But that’s normal, isn’t it?”
“Nothing in pregnancy is normal.” Aunt Bel’s tone was very matter of fact. “For some women, it’s normal. For some, it ain’t.”
“I gathered that when you said nothing in pregnancy was normal.”
“One of these days, boy, I’m gonna hunt you down and beat you with a batter-coated spatula.”
“Cam,” I said, looking at my sister. “Please hide the cookie jar. She’s had enough sugar.”
“Had enough sugar!” Aunt Bel shrieked. She started after me, whacking her cane against the floor. “I’m not three years old!”
“Then stop acting like it!” I rounded the table.
This was pointless. She was never going to catch me, and she was never going to be quick enough to double back and— She doubled back and smacked me.
I blinked at her. “Ouch,” I said flatly. “I think I need a doctor.”
Camille snorted.
“You...” She wriggled her finger at me.
Dad appeared in the doorway. “Family meeting. Library. Now.” He turned away without another word, his strong gait carrying him down the hall toward the library with ease.
“What are you waiting for?” Aunt Bel asked, tapping her hip. “The next Ice Age? Let’s go! I love a good family chitchat.”
I shared a look with Camille.