A Beautiful Funeral: A Novel (Maddox Brothers Book 5) (14 page)

“America!” Shepley said from behind her.

I crossed my arms, unwavering. “The truth. Now.”

Trenton returned, wearing an apologetic expression on his face. “I’m sorry, guys. I—”

What sounded like a gush of water sloshed onto the carpet just beneath Abby’s robe.

“Oh. My. Lanta,” Abby said, looking down.

We were all confused at first. Travis was the second to react. “Was that you?” He lifted up her robe a bit and then looked up at her, his eyes wide. “Your water just broke?”

She nodded.

“Oh, shit,” Travis said.

“I guess we can leave now,” Trenton deadpanned.

I smacked the back of his head.

“Ow!” Trenton said, rubbing the point of impact. “What’d I say?”

“We’re down to two agents,” Travis said to Abby.

She breathed, focusing on another, more intense contraction. From experience, I knew the ones that came after my water breaking were always ten times worse.

“We should have someone come here,” I said.

“No,” Abby moaned. “I need drugs. I want drugs. Lots and lots of drugs.”

“Then what should we do?” I asked.

“Get a towel and put me on the couch until you figure it out,” Abby said through her teeth.

I ran for a towel while Travis picked her up and carried her to the sofa.

“Shit.
Shit!
” Abby cried. The demonic sounds she made after that sounded like a feral cat preparing to fight for territory.

I folded the towel and placed it on the couch, and watched as Travis carefully lowered her to the cushions. He kneeled in front of her.

“If I take you, they’ll just have Agent Blevins until backup arrives, and that could be a while.”

“We have the other two,” Abby said. Her face turned red, and she focused, breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s too early, Trav.”

“What do I do, baby?” he asked.

“We have to go,” she said, the contraction finally over.

He nodded and pointed at me. “America, get the kids. Trenton, get Dad. Shepley, get the cars. We’ll need enough seats for everyone. Tell Blevins to prepare to follow and to stay alert.”

“On it,” Shepley said, rushing to the key ring holder to fish out the right sets.

I rushed upstairs, going first to Travis and Abby’s room. “Hey,” I said with a soft voice, rubbing the twins’ backs. They stirred but were pretty out of it. “James. Jess. It’s Aunt Mare. I need you to wake up. We’re going to the hospital. Mom’s having the baby.”

“What?” Jessica said, sitting up. She rubbed her eyes and then poked James. He sat up, too.

“C’mon, kids. I need you to get your shoes on and go downstairs.”

“Right now?” James asked. “What time is it?”

“It’s the middle of the night. But Mom’s having her baby, so we need to go.”

“Really?” Jessica said, scrambling up from her pallet on the floor. She was pulling on her shoes when I headed for the next room.

“Really. Downstairs in two minutes, please!” I said, rushing down the hall to where Olive was sleeping. “Olive?” I said, switching on the light. I sat down on the twin bed next to her. “Olive, sweetie, I need you to wake up.”

“Is everything okay?” she asked, rubbing her mascara-smeared eyes.

“We’re going to the hospital. Abby is having her baby.”

“But it’s not time yet, is it?”

“No,” I said. “It’s early, which is why she has to go soon. We all have to go together, so please get moving.”

She stood up, stumbling around the room to dress, and I rushed into the next room. “Boys?” I said softly. Emerson sat up, rubbed his eyes, and then jumped on his brothers. They began to fight. “Stop. Stop it. Knock it off. Right now!” I snapped.

They froze.

“Aunt Abby is having her baby. We’re going to the hospital. Get shoes on and let’s go.”

“In our pjs?” Ezra asked.

“Yes,” I said. I searched for Emerson’s sandals, finding one beneath his pillow. I wondered why for half a second before resuming the task of getting all the children dressed and downstairs.

At the same time Jim was stumbling from his bedroom with Trenton and Deana was helping Jack with the zipper on his jacket, all six kids were in the hallway ready to go.

“You’re amazing,” Abby said.

“I’m sorry I gave you a hard time earlier,” I said.

She waved me away, letting me know that no apology was necessary. We were working on two decades of friendship, and nothing was going to interfere with that.

Travis helped Abby to the truck, and Olive climbed into the back with him. Trenton drove, and Jim sat in the passenger seat. Jack and Deana climbed in with Agent Blevins. I made sure everyone was buckled in the van before hopping in next to Shepley. Agent Blevins’ headlights flashed on, and then another two sets flashed on further down the block.

“Shepley,” I warned.

“I think that’s the other agents they were talking about.” He clicked his seat belt into place, and we surged forward behind Travis’s truck.

With every bump, every red light, I thought about Abby.

“Why does it seem like the hospital is a hundred miles away when you’re trying to get a laboring woman there?” Shepley grumbled.

I remembered the first time Shepley drove me to the hospital, terrified the whole way that I’d give birth in the car and wishing I’d had a home birth. But I wasn’t in premature labor, either. Abby was particularly calm for what she was facing, but she was famous for her poker face. I imagined she was trying to keep it together for Travis and the kids.

I wrinkled my nose and turned around, irritated that I couldn’t reminisce or have a moment of internal dialog without the sounds of fighting children in the background.

“Jessica Abigail! No hitting! Ezra! Don’t try to put toys up your brother’s nose! Emerson! Stop screaming! James! Stop farting!”

It was quiet for a full minute before they all began chatting again as if nothing had happened. I rolled my eyes and glared at Shepley.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” I said, my eyes narrowing.

“Give me a dirty look when the kids are driving you nuts? Like I magically impregnated you when you weren’t looking?”

“That is your DNA back there. It’s your fault.”

Shepley frowned, turning on his blinker and surging forward so he could continue to follow Travis’s truck instead of being stuck at a red light. He stretched his neck to peer into the rearview mirror, checking that Agent Blevins was still behind us.

“He probably just ran the red light,” I said. “He’s a federal agent on duty. I’m sure he’s not worried about a ticket.”

“He did,” Shepley said. “Damn. This is something.”

“You mean scary?” I asked.

The kids got quiet.

“Is Mom going to be okay?” Jessica asked.

I closed my eyes. It was so easy to forget when they were all chattering away that they were still paying attention. Kids could ignore us all day, but the moment we utter something we don’t want them to hear, they develop superhero powers. A few times, I was sure Ezra could hear me whisper the F word under my breath through two walls. Shepley glanced over at me and interlaced his fingers in mine. He’d told me hundreds of times how proud it made him to watch me mother our boys, and I took pride in it, too. They were messy and rough and sometimes deaf, but I handled it. Shepley didn’t think I’d never made a mistake, and I loved him even more for that. I could lose my shit, threaten, yell, and cry, but my boys didn’t want perfect. They wanted present.

Shepley pulled into the parking lot near the ambulance bay, and we unbuckled the kids while Travis carried Abby into the Emergency Room. Someone must have called ahead because a nurse was already at the door waiting with a wheelchair.

Trenton fell behind, holding Jim’s cane in one hand and hooking his dad’s arm with the other. After Abby had settled into the seat, she waved to her in-laws and then to us, blowing a kiss to the kids as the nurse wheeled her inside. We had just stepped through the sliding door of the ER waiting room when they disappeared behind double doors. Travis was walking next to Abby’s wheelchair, holding her hand. He was encouraging Abby to breathe, telling her how good she was doing, and how amazing and strong she was. We followed them until they slipped behind the doors. That was when Jessica looked up at Agent Blevins, enormous and towering over us all, and began to cry.

Trenton kneeled beside her. “Mama’s okay, baby girl. She’s done this before. You just don’t remember.”

“Are the babies going to be okay?” James asked.

“There’s just one this time, buddy,” Shepley said, mussing his nephew’s hair with his fingers.

“They haven’t even named it yet,” Jessica cried.

Trenton picked up Jessica and carried her away from the double doors, her gangly legs hanging loosely while he walked. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he flattened her tangled hair against the back of her head, kissing her temple and swaying from side to side.

“You okay, Jim?” I asked, touching his shoulder. He still looked half-asleep and a bit confused.

“I guess they’ll tell us where to wait?” Jim asked.

I nodded. “I’ll ask someone. You can sit if you want.”

He looked around for the closest chair and chose one next to Trenton, who was still standing with Jessica in his arms.

“I’ll go,” Shepley said, kissing my cheek.

He approached the admissions desk, waiting for the clerk to finish up with an elderly couple. Once they walked away, he began speaking with her. She seemed pleasant, pointing and nodding and smiling. Shepley patted the desk a couple of times before saying thank you and then returned to us.

“They’re taking her to the maternity wing on the third floor. They said we should go to the waiting room up there.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go,” I said.

Agent Blevins was in my peripheral, using his tiny radio, I assumed to update the person on the other end of our whereabouts. I knew he couldn’t tell us any more information, so I tried not to dwell on it. An entire department of people in the FBI knew more about what danger our family was facing than we did. The very principle, even beyond a sound reason, infuriated me, but I had to focus on Abby.

We found an elevator and crowded inside—all eleven of us—including Agent Blevins. The elevator dipped a bit when he stepped on, but he didn’t seem worried. Olive pressed the button, and the doors swept shut. The kids were uncharacteristically quiet while the red digital number above the door climbed with each floor. Finally, the door opened, and Trenton stepped off, the rest of us filing out behind him.

Trenton immediately fished out his phone, looking at Agent Blevins. “Have you heard from Perkins yet?”

“He’s arrived at the location. He’s currently waiting for Mrs. Maddox to enter the vehicle. There is a security guard presenting a small problem.”

Trenton smiled. “That’s Drew. He’s the bouncer. Good kid. I should call her. Tell her it’s okay to leave with him.”

Agent Blevins touched his ear. “She’s in the car, sir. Agent Perkins will deliver her to the hospital shortly.”

Trenton seemed satisfied and put his phone away before approaching the nurse’s station. A woman with big green eyes and a platinum blond bob led us to the waiting room, even though most of us knew where it was already. Travis and Abby’s third child would be the sixth Maddox grandbaby born in Eakins. We were very familiar with the maternity ward.

“In here,” the nurse said. “Snacks and drink machines are out and around the corner.” She gestured to the hall and to her right. “Someone will be in to update you as soon as they know something.”

“The baby is early, but he’ll be all right, right?” I asked.

The nurse smiled. “Our entire staff is waiting and ready to make sure he’s given the best care possible.”

I turned to my family. “I guess he heard Stella was coming and couldn’t wait to meet her,” I said with a contrived smile. No one responded except for Shepley, who simply patted my leg. For James and Jessica’s sake, I tried not to show any worry. Abby’s due date was still seven weeks away, and even though the delivery might go smoothly, we wouldn’t know how the baby was doing until after he was born. It was enough of a hint that the adults were so quiet, very different from the giddy excitement the other times our family had spent time in that room.

The nurse returned with blankets and pillows. “These are if the kids want to rest for a bit. Abby’s water broke. They’ve done an ultrasound, and the doctor has evaluated the baby. He feels that to avoid the risk of infection and complications for both mom and baby, he will let the labor proceed.”

“Can I see her?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level.

The nurse thought about it for half a second and then nodded. “Of course.”

I kissed Shepley quickly on the lips and waved to the kids. He switched off the light, and Trenton and Olive began making pallets on the couches. The kids whined before crawling in.

“Mommy!” Emerson cried.

“I’ll be right down the hall,” I said. “Daddy will tuck you in, and I’ll sit with you when I get back.”

“When will you be back?” Eli asked, pouting. He was trying not to cry.

“Soon. Before you fall asleep. Snuggle with your brother until then.”

Eli turned his back to me, hooking his arm over Emerson. Shepley sat next to Ezra and winked at me before I left them to follow the nurse to Abby’s room.

The hard soles of my shoes echoed in the hallway, the warm color of the wallpapered walls a contrast to the cold, white tile floors. Generic pictures of mother and babies, traditional families with infomercial smiles, lined the walls, selling their brand of normality. Most people would go home dealing with a colicky baby, or postpartum depression, or the struggles of a broken family. Abuse, drugs, insecurity, poverty, fear. First-time moms left this place every day, going home with the vision we see in every diaper commercial of a mother rocking her sleeping infant in an immaculate nursery. Within a month, those same moms would be begging their baby in the wee hours of the morning to sleep, answering the door with vomit on her shirt, and choosing whether to shower or eat, clean, or sleep. I wondered how many four-member families actually left the maternity ward financially stable and emotionally whole because our baby was coming into the world greeted by two great parents who were crazy in love and a large, loving extended family yet still needed the protection of federal agents. What was normal, anyway?