Chapter 21
twenty-one
Charlie
I ’d never slept better than I did next to Cash—even using his bicep as a pillow. I knew I was safe in his arms. But it was more than that. Being with Cash had always calmed me. Brought out a chill, unaffected-by-the-stresses-of-life version of myself that only happened when he was around. Now, as a full-grown man, his pull was an intoxicating riptide—and that night, I was too tired to fight it.
But I couldn’t let this become a habit. Friends didn’t fall asleep wrapped up in each other like that. The lines I’d drawn were already smudging, turning into something messy and complicated. If I was this tangled up, I could only imagine what it was doing to him.
So every day for the next week, I got up early to muck out the barn alone, did my job at the recording studio—professionally and unattached—came home, ate dinner, and spent my evenings writing music in my room. But most importantly, I slept in my own bed.
I didn’t know how long I could keep my feelings at bay or keep Cash at arm’s length. I was in a holding pattern—an airplane circling a storm, trying to find a safe place to land.
A couple of weeks later, I was in the barn again, mid-muck, manure flecked on my jeans and my right cheek, when a side-by-side tore up, grinding to a stop outside.
The barn door flew open. “Charlie!” my sister Jane called, frantic.
“I’m here!” I jogged into the aisle so she could see me. “What’s wrong?”
Her eyes were bright and excited. “Mom’s in labor!”
“What? She’s early.”
“Just a week. Let’s go,” she beckoned. “Mom wants you to come.”
“To watch the kids?”
“No.” She grabbed my hand, pulling me along. “She wants you to come to the delivery.”
“Me?” I squeaked.
“Yes. You have to hurry. It might happen fast. Emily was only three hours start to finish.” I remembered. “And she has to get to Honeyville Regional in time.”
I dug my heels into the concrete. “She doesn’t want me there.”
“She does!” Jane said, exasperated. She flicked her blond ponytail off her shoulder. “There’s no time to argue. She’s panting and huffing. I can tell it hurts.”
That did it, I kicked into a run, right behind my sister. Jane cranked the side-by-side. We flew over the green rolling hills of our grandparents’ ranch, the warm wind brushing over our cheeks.
“I have to change!” I yelled over the engine.
Jane looked me over, like she was trying to decide if I was a ranch hand or a Jackson Pollock experiment gone wrong. “You don’t just need a change—you need a shower. Fast. I’ll tell Dad to pick you up.”
She dumped me in front of Ford and Peyton’s McMansion. I peeled my muck boots off and left them on the porch—something I would never think of doing under any other circumstance. I sprinted through the house and up the stairs. My room was messy, my bed unmade. I’d have to worry about it when I got back.
Just as I’d dumped a plop of shampoo in my hair, I heard my phone ring on the bathroom counter. Then it stopped and started again. And again. Shoot. I scrubbed as fast as I could, finishing in under five minutes flat.
I checked my notifications.
Dad
Mom’s water broke. We’re waiting in front of the house. We have to GO.
Be there in one minute!
I shot back down the stairs, wearing fresh clothes, my sandals dangling from my fingers.
Drying a dinner plate, Peyton stepped into the hall as I sprinted back by. “Where are you going?”
“Mom’s in labor and she wants me to come!”
“Oh, gracious. Give her my love!”
Mom and Dad’s van was idling on the blacktop, the sliding door open, waiting for me.
The driver's side window was down and even though I could see Mom doing her Lamaze breathing, she smiled like she didn’t have a care in the world. “Hey, sweetie.” She had her makeup on and her hair smoothed back into a bun, wearing a sundress like they were picking me up for church.
Dad, on the other hand, was pacing, phone to his ear, calling me.
“Dad, I’m here!”
Dad shut his door and pressed the gas to the floor. “You took a shower?” he asked, voice tense. Dad wasn’t easily ruffled, so I knew he was super stressed.
“Sorry, I was covered in manure.”
Mom patted his arm. “We’re going to be fine. Just drive, Ash.”
While Mom continued to hee-hee, hoo-hoo, Dad smashed the gas pedal down, flying over the paved driveway. We were hardly on the main road when Mom’s hand, still resting on Dad’s arm, shifted from a soft pat to a tight, desperate curl—like Little Orphan Annie hanging by one hand from the NX drawbridge. She released a grunt that sounded like someone had punched her in the stomach. The next sound was a low, feral cry, thick with pain and determination, her nails digging into Dad’s forearm.
“Tal-lyyy!” Dad yelled as the van swerved.
She let go and gripped her armrest instead, her body arching, every muscle flexed.
“Babe, are you okay?” Dad asked, sheer panic in his voice.
She closed her eyes and breathed out in a long O. “Fine. Oh man. That one was rough.
“This is not good,” Dad said, flipping the blinker to turn on the back road to Honeyville. “You shouldn’t be having contractions like that until you’re closer to push time.” His eyebrow cocked. “Are you close to push time?” His voice pitched into falsetto territory.
But she didn’t answer. Just stared straight ahead, too focused. Like she was straining.
I grew up on a ranch, sure. But it was always Gramps, my dad, or one of my uncles doing the actual delivering—cows, pigs, horses. I’d only been the towel girl. But I wasn’t taking any chances now. I pulled up a YouTube video and watched it on a loop, like I was studying for the SAT.
Fifteen minutes later, Mom grimaced, her back lifting off the seat. “Hee-hee, hoo. Hee-hee, hoo. Ash?” she bellowed.
“Yeah?” He shoved a hand into his hair, looking so helpless.
She let out a stifled shriek. “I need you to go faster!”
“I’m pulling over,” he muttered.
“Don’t you dare! You get me to that hospital! What if she needs oxygen?” Her breath stuttered. “I need to push !” she roared.
“No. Don’t do it,” Dad said in what we called his stern professor voice. “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“I can’t. I can’t hold it in!” Mom shouted louder than I’d ever heard her shout before.
Forehead furrowed, Dad leaned forward as if concentrating harder would make us arrive faster. “Charlie?” His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Can you check and see if she’s crowning?”
“Crowning?”
“See if the baby’s head is visible.”
I blanched, my stomach dropping. Was he serious? One look at his face—every line etched deep with worry—told me he’d never been more serious in his life.
Mom’s fingers curled around the armrests again as the speedometer reached sixty-five in a fifty-five. “ Hee-hee-hee. Hoo-hoo-hoo . These stupid breathing techniques don’t work!” She spat a curse word I’d never heard her say and let out a gut-wrenching groan. “They neeeever dooooo!”
I unhooked my belt and found Mom’s hospital bag on the floor. I grabbed Mom’s bath towel and laid it across the seat I’d been sitting on. Next, I flipped myself around, grateful there was no console in the way, and knelt by Mom.
“Ima,” I said, using the Jewish word for mother, trying to bring her focus back to me. “I’m right here.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, chest rising and falling too fast. But her eyes locked on mine, determined.
I gently squeezed her hand. “We need to move you to the back seat. Do you think you can do that between contractions?”
She nodded, delicate veins bulging in her neck as she blew out another few breaths. “I think—” She gasped. “Now.”
I undid her seatbelt and eased her arm around my shoulder. Her legs wobbled and I almost tripped but I righted myself, taking more of her weight. I lowered her onto the bench seat and collapsed to my knees.
“Four minutes,” Dad announced. “Almost there, Tal.”
“I can’t wait that long,” Mom cried.
“Charlie, I need you to check,” Dad said with practiced calm.
I shook out my hands, said a quick prayer, and rolled my shoulders back. I could do this.
Mom’s right knee leaned against the back of the seat but her left foot was on the floor. I looked at the hem of her dress, her knees caught in a steady, unending tremble.
Crap.
I couldn’t do this.
“Char-lie!” Mom moaned, her head lolling as the pain overtook her. For a second I thought she’d passed out but then her eyes opened, focused yet slightly unhinged. “I n-need y-you.” There was no time for wavering. No room for being scared.
“I got you, Mom. I’m going to slip off your underwear.”
She shook her head adamantly. “No-no.”
“The underwear came off when her water broke,” Dad said.
“Okay.” I laughed. “Never thought I’d be grateful to hear my mom’s gone commando.” I looked her in the eye, shoving every worry or thought of impropriety out. “Here we go.” I lifted her dress and peeked under. Every muscle in my body froze. “Dad! The head is right there.” A laugh burst out of my vocal cords as I peeked again. “She’s got brown hair! So much brown hair!” Was it normal for a baby to have that much hair?
“Brown?” Dad sounded choked up. He’d always wanted a baby that looked like Mom, but they always came out looking like him.
“She does?” Mom whimpered.
“Yes.” I smiled. “So brown. Maybe black.”
“How much of her head can you see?” Dad asked, his voice tight.
“Like…a four-inch radius.”
He spat out a string of swear words. “Hang on.” I grabbed Mom’s hips, keeping her level as he turned hard right into the hospital parking lot. “We’re here!” he called with a relieved chuckle.
“Good,” Mom said, panting. “Because the baby’s here too.” Then, as if she couldn’t have stopped it if she wanted to, her body bore down, and her eyes squeezed shut.
“Mom, wait!” I shrieked, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
But it was no use. She released a guttural scream that would probably make me need hearing aids in my mid-thirties. A tiny, slippery body came flying onto the seat. I scooped the baby up just as Dad brought the van to a screeching halt.
She twitched in my arms, her little mouth opening like she was struggling for air. Her head turned this way and that and for a second, I thought something was wrong. But then…
The cry came.
Sharp, perfect, and ear splitting—it echoed off the van walls.
I whooped as she reared back and let another loose, announcing her arrival to the world. “Mom, you did it,” I said, chest so tight I could barely breathe. “She’s here.”
“ We did it,” Mom said, beaming like I was her hero.
Dad parked in the ER drop-off loop and raced inside.
I quickly checked the baby. “And she has all her fingers and toes.”
Mom glanced up at the ceiling but her words went much further. “Thank you.” She reached for the baby.
“Hold on. You need to be skin to skin.”
I laid the baby across her thighs—oh, she did not like that—then reached up and unbuttoned the front of her dress. Gently, I settled the baby against her chest, careful not to crush the umbilical cord.
She looked at the newborn, but she was still reaching. For me.
I lay my head against Mom’s shoulder, gazing at my sister. “She’s so beautiful,” I barely got out.
“She is.” Mom smiled. The baby opened her eyes to look around. Mom and I gasped at the same time. They were brown.
“Charlie,” Mom said with a happy sigh. “She looks like you .”
“And you,” I said.
“Us,” Mom whispered.
She did. So much. But…I tilted my head to get a better look…she looked like Jane too. Hold up. Wouldn’t that mean Jane looked like me? I’d certainly never had that thought before. But she also looked like Theo. Wait. Maybe that was Tristan. How could that be? Tris looked like Ashton, who wasn’t blood related to Theo or me at all. How could she look like all of us?
Because you’re a family, the answer came, simple and clear. All of you. Whole, half, it doesn’t matter. Mom was the connection, the reason we all fit together.
Realizing how much of my siblings I carried in me…something inside me cracked open, shattering the darkness and letting in the light. For so long, I’d only seen the worst parts of my DNA, the shadow my biological father left behind. I’d believed I was an outlier on the edge of an otherwise perfect family.
Mom had risen above the hurt he’d caused her and created something so beautiful in spite of it. She’d found love and given that love right back with the same intensity. She hadn’t let her past define the rest of her life.
I looked over when I felt her watching me. She was so strong. Resilient. I’d gotten that from her. If she could rise above her past, so could I.
Because I had her DNA running through my veins too. But more than that, she’d raised me. She and Ashton. Everything good in me was because of them and I could choose to let that part prevail.
At that thought, a glorious, cleansing sob ripped through my chest. Mom pulled me against her, hugging both of her crying daughters. The baby curled her fingers around my pinky in a death grip.
“How are you, sweet girl?” Mom said to her in hushed tones. “We’re so happy you’re finally here.” Then she looked at me with so much love in her eyes. “So glad you’re both finally here.”
I nodded and whispered, “Me too.”
The van door slid open and Dad climbed in. While he shut the door, I scooted down the bench, moving Mom’s legs into my lap. Dad shifted her so she could relax against his chest.
Then he pressed kisses into her hair like she was his greatest treasure. I knew she was. But he was looking at me the same way. “Dang, Charlie. You were amazing. We would’ve been in real trouble without you.”
“I’m glad I could be here,” I said, wiping my cheeks. “But Mom did all the work.”
“No.” His eyes were watering like the rest of us. “Don’t downplay it. We needed you and you came through.”
“She did,” Mom said. “She’s our Charlie girl.” Then she tugged Dad down by his blonde, close-cropped beard. But she stopped before their lips touched. “Hey, old man,” she murmured. “Told you I was going to give you that brown haired baby you always wanted.”
He looked into her eyes. “Thank you.” Which was generous, since we all knew he wanted to get snipped after Emily. But you don’t say something like that to a woman who just gave birth in the backseat of a minivan unless you want to be murdered in your sleep. But then he added, “For waiting until I was forty-seven.”
Mom’s chest shook with exhausted laughter.
Dad chuckled, his big thumb running over the baby’s cheek. She chased it, rooting for food. “Once she finally leaves for college, I’ll have about three years before it’s time to put me in a casket.”
Mom slipped her hand into his hair and kissed him. “No caskets,” she said in a voice so serious it made me press a hand to my heart. “Unless I’m in it with you, okay?”
“How about no caskets, period,” I said.
But they were too busy staring into each other's eyes. Dad kissed her again.
For the first time since I’d arrived back in Seddledowne, I let myself admit that I wanted someone to look at me like that. Like I was the sunrise, the sunset, and all the moments in between. No, not someone.
Cash.
When Dad pressed one more kiss to her lips, I waved them apart. “That’s enough. How do you think you wound up here in the first place?”
The sliding door of the van opened and two female nurses grinned at us.
The older of the two laughed. “Well, I see y’all like to take ‘drive-thru service’ to a whole new level.”