Chapter 4
Chapter four
Despite what I told Grant, and despite it being close to midnight, I’m not tired in the least.
I sit on my old Queen-size bed worried about Ivy and once again wishing I would have gone to the hospital with her. I can’t shake the feeling she needs me. She’s got her husband and in-laws, but my intuition tells me it’s not enough. She needs her sister there, too.
I’m going to send Linda a text just to make sure there aren’t any new developments she hasn’t told me about.
Right as I pick up my phone it starts vibrating in my hand with an incoming call from Braxton.
I immediately swipe to answer it. “Braxton, how is everything? Is Ivy okay? How are Nia and Amani?”
“Hey, Eve,” he says, followed by a long exhale. “Sorry I’m calling so late. It was too much to type out.”
“Too much to type? Why? What happened?”
I’m already off the bed and looking around the room for my keys and purse.
“We’re okay, or, will be okay,” Braxton says carefully. “I just need you to listen and not react, okay?”
“Okay.”
God, where are my keys?
“Ivy is sleeping off the effects of the drugs, but otherwise she’s fine.
Nia and Amani…” My heart breaks at the sound of Braxton’s voice cracking before he clears his throat and continues.
“They came so early that their lungs haven’t fully developed, so they have to be transferred to a Level four NICU. ”
I don’t hear anything Braxton says after that, but I do finally find my keys inside my purse. Now I need to find my shoes.
This don’t make no sense, I think, hustling from one side of the bed to the other. I had my shoes on all day, and now when I need to go somewhere they’ve up and disappeared off the face of the earth.
I fling the closet open and find a pair of flip flops with rhinestones I haven’t worn since college. I put them on anyway and get a glimpse of myself in the mirror hanging on the door. To put it mildly, I look a hot mess in my pajamas and flip flops.
“Eve, are you there?” Braxton’s voice breaks through the fog.
“I’m here,” I answer, turning away from the mirror. Who cares about fashion when you need to be there for your sister? “Which hospital did you say they’re transferring y’all to again?”
Braxton lets out another sigh. “Methodist Hospital in San Antonio. But look. Eve, I need you to listen… You can’t come.”
His words knock the wind out of me and my hand freezes before I can turn the doorknob.
“What?” I ask, hoping I didn’t hear him correctly.
“I’m sorry. There’s just already a lot going on here with the transfer and Ivy has to wait for her doctor to give the okay before she can be moved.
They said the visitor restrictions are even more stringent there, and they gave me all these damn papers with all this information like I’m supposed to know what it all means.
” I hear the shuffle of papers and edge of desperation in Braxton’s voice.
Putting myself in Braxton’s shoes, I realize how stressful the day has been for him.
First it was running around the house to get everything ready for dinner.
Then it was rushing to the hospital. Now it’s getting the babies transferred.
It would be a trying day for anyone, let alone a first-time dad.
And if it’s been stressful for him, it’s been absolutely crushing for Ivy. Which is why I need to be there.
“But I can help,” I insist as my voice quivers.
“You can,” Braxton says gently before his next words break my heart. “At the house.”
I shake my head, already knowing what he’s about to ask me.
Ivy and Braxton decided to move into our childhood home when they found out Ivy was pregnant. Only, it took so long to get the move approved by Braxton’s job that they didn’t get here until she was six months along.
I’d planned to take off all of December to help prepare the nursery and go through Dad’s and my old things to clear the house and make room for their growing family.
Now Braxton is asking me to do it alone. Without him or Ivy. Without Dad. I know none of it can be helped, but the plan is officially off ruined.
“Braxton…” I begin.
“It would take so much stress off of us if we knew Nia and Amani had their room ready for when we get home. And you won’t even have to do it alone. Grant will help you.”
He wants me to spend more time with Grant? With my heart and sanity intact?
For a second, I consider faking bad reception, pretending that the call dropped, and racing to the hospital anyway.
But the thought of Ivy coming back home, exhausted and with even less time on her hands, keeps me from bolting.
If I can’t be by her side, the least I can do is make sure she has everything her and the babies need when she comes home.
“Eve, please,” Braxton says, his voice breaking again.
I let out a long breath and set my purse down on the desk. “You know it’s not even a question. Of course I’ll do this. We’re family. I just need you to promise to keep me updated. I want to know everything that happens.”
“I will.” Relief softens his voice, like a boulder’s been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you, sis. I know you’d rather be with Ivy, but I want you to know how much I appreciate this.”
Braxton runs through the logistics of everything that needs to be tackled while I’m here.
“I know,” I tell him when he repeats, ‘The diapers are in the closet,’ for the third time.
He’s obviously running on empty, and I need him to rest if he’s going to take care of my family.
“Don’t forget, it was already in the plan for me to work on the nursery,” I tell him. “You know I was all up in there, scoping the room out, as soon as I got here.”
“And don’t you forget, you’re not alone. Grant will help too.”
I withhold a sigh.
With how crazy this year has been, neither Ivy nor Braxton have had the opportunity to question how Grant and I went from partnering up at their weekly game nights, to me avoiding him at the wedding reception and every get together after.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” Ivy had said when I arrived two days ago.
“And frankly at this moment, I’m too tired to care.
I just need you to be a big girl and be nice while he’s here.
No rude remarks, no mean looks, and no sarcastic comments about the kitchen table being too small to accommodate him.
He’s my family and more importantly, he’s nice. So promise me you'll be nice.”
I committed to what Ivy asked, but I can’t get myself to do the same for Braxton. After how easily I caved to Grant’s smile, I have to draw the line somewhere.
“Can I ask you for one more thing?” Braxton says.
“Of course.”
“Pray for a miracle. Ivy didn’t want to bring this up to anyone and would probably kill me if she knew I was telling you this, but these eight months have been brutal on her without your dad.
She’s devastated he’s not around to meet the girls.
I know he always made Christmas special for y’all, and I’d hate if her first Christmas without him was spent in a hospital.
Pray that Nia and Amani get strong enough for us to make it home soon. ”
A lump burns my throat. I press a hand to my chest, swallowing hard before I can answer. “I will,” I whisper, and we hang up.
I kick my flip flops off and lay on the bed, staring straight up at the ceiling until it blurs.
Ivy and Braxton need a nursery for the babies, and so I’ll give them one fit for royalty.
Cribs on each side of the room with their beautiful names painted in gold.
Changing tables in each corner and Ivy’s rocking chair in the middle, right in front of the window where the light spills in.
A room full of peace, warmth, and love. And I’ll give them a house they can build their family’s foundation on.
The image of the finished nursery is clear in my mind, but I’m questioning if this is right. Because staying here and playing house, as much as it’s needed, while my twin is so far and out of reach feels very much wrong.
What would you do, Dad? How would you turn this disaster around?
That was one of his specialties, turning whatever mess life gave us into a celebration.
Like the time I offered to make dinner while he took care of the Christmas tree he’d brought home.
I accidentally mixed-up bake for broil and burned the chicken to a crisp.
Smoke came flooding from the oven, detectors were going off like it was the end of the world, and Ivy doubled over in laughter at my so-called cooking skills.
Just chaos. Then Dad swooped in with a fire extinguisher, grilled up some hot dogs, and served them picnic-style by the newly lit tree.
The scent of fresh pine covered my charred disaster, and somehow the night felt magical.
If Dad were here, he’d assure me that it’s okay if I’m not at the hospital, and that Ivy and the babies will be fine. Then, he’d set about turning this place into a winter wonderland so not only would they have a beautiful nursery, but they’d also have a beautiful first Christmas.
And just like that, I know what to do.
I won’t stop at the nursery and a few donation boxes.
I’ll decorate the house. I’ll hang the lights, bake the cookies, and decorate the grandest tree this house has ever seen.
Dad may not be here, but when Ivy walks through the door with her babies, she’ll feel his love in every corner of the home he built for us.
I close my eyes, the weight in my chest easing just enough to let sleep pull me under as my Christmas plan finally comes together.