Chapter 22
twenty-two
Charlie
T ristan, who’d been forced to leave his Game Boy in our grandparents’ car and was starting to lose his mind, took a running leap at Emily, karate kicking in the air. She shrieked as his foot narrowly missed her face and stumbled backward into Jane. Fury flashed across Jane’s face when Tristan turned his kick on her. She put him in a headlock and whirled him around in a circle until he fell dizzy on the floor.
“Knock it off!” Dad roared loud enough to wake every baby on the floor. Then he snuggled against Mom on the hospital bed. “This isn’t a WWF match. Your baby sister is trying to sleep.” He shook his head. “Six kids, Tally. This is insanity.”
“I know.” She beamed. “It’s the best.”
Resting soundly in Theo’s arms, Baby Girl Dupree—name still to be decided—had already acclimated to our crazy, rambunctious family. I sat next to him. Granny was snuggled up on Theo’s other side while Gramps sat on the armrest next to me.
Theo raised a hand like he was in school. “I just want to point out that three of your kids are behaving and three aren’t. And the ones who aren’t are all blond.” He and I gave our parents cheesy grins. “Heh. The score is finally even.” He offered me a fist bump with his free hand. I proudly bumped back. “The dark side’s looking pretty good after all, isn’t it?”
I laughed. “It is indeed.”
“Hey!” Jane said, offended. “I’d behave just fine if Tristan would keep his feet to himself.” She propped her hands on her waist. “I’m dyeing my hair when we get home.”
“No, you’re not,” Mom said. “Hair color doesn’t determine behavior. Choices do.”
“Don’t touch your hair,” I said. “Guys like pretty blonds.”
Jane hugged herself. “You think I’m pretty?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve only told you every day since I got home.” I had. But Jane never got tired of hearing it. Just batted those mascaraed lashes and widened those light blue eyes whenever she wanted attention. And she got plenty of attention, let me tell you.
Curled up on the vinyl couch next to Theo, I propped my chin on his shoulder as I gazed down at the baby. She’d been gripping my pointer finger for the last half hour and I was here for it.
I bent over and placed a kiss on her tiny knuckles. “I love how she smells.”
He pressed his nose into her hair and sniffed. “Like baby powder. But also slightly sweet.”
“That’s Mom’s boob milk you’re smelling,” Jane said.
“It’s breast milk,” Mom corrected.
Jane shuddered. “That’s worse. I’m going with boob milk.”
“How about we don’t talk about boobs or breasts,” Dad said.
Gramps peered down at the baby. “I always forget how tiny they are.”
“Not tiny enough,” Mom said. “I could’ve handled her being a pound smaller.” Eight pounds, seven ounces. “And an epidural,” she added. “I could’ve handled that too.”
“But she’s here and both of you are safe,” Dad said. “You were a rockstar.”
Granny, who’d reluctantly given the baby up when Theo arrived, said, “Any woman who delivers a baby in her vehicle has the right to complain.”
Mom’s nurse bustled into the room. “Visiting hours are over in fifteen minutes.” She glanced at Theo. “Do we have a name yet?”
“Sunflower Peony.” Emily bounced on her toes, hands together, pleading. “Please, Mom, please.”
“Oh, good heavens, no,” Granny said like Mom and Dad might actually be considering it.
“We could call her Sunny Pee-ony,” Tristan snickered into his fist. Such a boy.
Emily frowned.
Dad looked at Emily so seriously. “Mom and I were thinking of Tinkerbelle Honeyblossom.”
Emily’s eyes turned to saucers. “Really?” she squealed.
“No, not really,” Dad said like be serious . “It’s a ridiculous name.”
Emily deflated, flopping into the chair behind her. “You guys are the worst.”
Mom smiled at Dad and then at the nurse. “Her name is…Catherine.”
“Ooh,” Granny cooed. “Such a beautiful classic name.”
“Nickname, Cate, with a C,” Dad added.
“With a C ?” Grandma asked like that was verging on scandalous.
“With a C,” Dad said firmly.
“Middle name is…” Mom looked at me. “Charlie. Catherine Charlie Dupree.”
Everyone turned to see my reaction.
I stared at my parents, blinking over and over. “Are you sure? You don’t need to do that.”
“Are you kidding?” Theo said. “This girl owes you her life. It’s the least they can do.”
Dad chuckled. “And she’s going to need a kick butt big sister to look up to.”
Jane huffed. “I’m kick butt.”
Emily jutted her chin. “Me too.”
“You are,” Dad said.
“But did you deliver her?” Theo asked as if I’d done something really significant, like change the course of world history.
Mom looked at me, waiting for my okay.
I gazed at Cate, so tiny and sweet. “I don’t think I?—”
Gramps silenced me with a pat on the arm. “Yes, you do,” he said like he knew what I was going to say. “You deserve it.” Okay, maybe he knew. “And so does she. She’ll always know she was named after the big sister who delivered her in a van.” He patted my shoulder. “It’s a good thing they’re doing. Let them.”
They really wanted this. That was evident in the pride on their faces. So I nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I like that.” I did. A lot.
“It’s settled then?” The nurse asked.
Mom and Dad gave her a nod.
She walked over to the bassinet, pulled a sharpie out of her pocket, and wrote my sister’s official name for the very first time.
“Time to go,” Granny said to my younger siblings.
“Yes!” Tristan pumped his fist, clearly stoked about being reunited with whatever video game he was obsessing over this week. Probably something to do with wrestling.
Jane kissed Cate on the cheek seven times before following Granny and Gramps into the hall. So Emily kissed her eight before skipping from the room.