Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Phoebe

I walk through the room that Rosa and Cami used, gathering the dirty clothes so I can wash them. Despite the exhausting day I just had, as well as the grief I feel over losing Rosa and then handing Cami over to her father, I can’t seem to go to sleep.

So, making sure that all of Cami’s stuff is clean and ready to be picked up tomorrow is the way to go in order to ease my restlessness.

Once the laundry has been started, I go through my cupboards and pull down the canisters of formula, as well as all the extra bottles and supplies, placing them on the island for packing. “Don’t forget the baby food,” I murmur.

At the pediatrician’s suggestion, we began feeding Cami rice cereal, along with select fruit and vegetables.

Because I’m me, I stocked up on everything, so once again, I’m stacking things on the island.

“He’ll be set for a little bit, anyhow,” I say out loud when I look at my overflowing island.

Hearing the buzzer on my washing machine, I switch the clothes to the dryer, then pull down the baby laundry soap I used on her clothes, as well as the dryer sheets to add to the pile that’s growing on my island.

Several hours later, with the exception of breaking down the furniture, I have her clothes all sorted, having pulled the stuff that she grew out of to the side, as well as a stack of clean crib sheets and blankets, and the toys for tummy time.

I know I volunteered to be one of Cami’s babysitters, but he might not want me around her because of Rosa.

“Ugh, once again, she’s messing with my life,” I grumble as I finally get ready for bed.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I decide I’m going to go back to my natural hair color, which isn’t blonde.

Nope, I’m a brunette, and quite honestly, I always loved my hair.

The only reason I went through the torture to keep it blonde was because when I don’t, I favor Rosa too much for comfort.

I loved her, she was family, but she also made life a living hell and I tried to disassociate my looks and familial connection to her as much as I could manage.

I needed that individuality because we were so identical due to our family lineage, people often mistook us as sisters instead of cousins and I didn’t want that association because of her manipulative shenanigans.

I didn’t want people she’d manipulated to come after me with their pitchforks. That was a real fear of mine.

Except… there’s one stark difference that was always between us, I have a multitude of tattoos and she didn’t have any.

I’m fortunate that most are covered by my scrubs, but I wear a lightweight long-sleeve compression shirt that covers the others when I work.

Not that the hospital would fuss too much since almost every healthcare worker in the emergency room has either tattoos or tasteful piercings.

Some of the old timers sneer at us ‘youngsters’ but I don’t really care about their opinion of me.

As my dad used to tell me, what other people think about me is none of my business.

Damn, I miss him so much sometimes. He and Mom were on vacation when their tour bus went off the road during a bad storm, killing all the occupants.

It was their dream trip, and while I ache from their loss to this day, there’s a sense of peace knowing that they didn’t suffer, and they were together doing something they always wanted to do.

Still, now I’m virtually alone in this world. I mean, I have a connection to Cami, of course, but she’s an infant, and I honestly have no clue how often Prophet will allow me to see her. As I crawl into bed, I swipe the tears away.

“It’s gonna be okay, Fee. Worst case scenario, you get a couple of cats or something,” I whisper to myself as I set my alarm. The sandman soon arrives, and I find myself dreaming of a certain silver fox biker who made my ovaries explode watching him hold his daughter.

Morning comes far too early, but I get up anyway and take a shower then get dressed.

I know that Prophet and several others will be coming this morning to pack Cami’s things.

While I wait, I make myself a tumbler of water, even though I’d prefer to suck down a gallon of sweet tea to get my caffeine fix.

Memories flit through my mind as I walk through the house again to make sure I at least have all of her things visible for easy packing.

My decision made, I eat some yogurt with fruit and then head to my computer and boot it up.

Right now, I’m grateful that I took the time to organize my pictures, because it makes it easy to start printing them off.

Once I have them together in chronological order, I search through my craft closet and locate my old scrapbooking stuff and before long, I have a baby book put together for Prophet of all the pictures that have been taken so far.

“I need to get his email address so I can forward all the videos I’ve taken too,” I say out loud. “If nothing else, she’ll have them when she’s older so she can hear her mother’s voice.”

Sadness pulls at me when I think about my cousin.

I know there are probably people who feel she brought a lot of things on herself, but at the end of the day, she was failed by the system that was designed to protect children.

It colored every aspect of her life, that’s for sure.

I’ve had conflicts with her here and there, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have sympathy for her and the things she experienced throughout her life.

A heavy-handed knock at my front door has me pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind while I plaster a fake smile on my face.

Opening the door, I see Prophet, carrying Cami, of course, along with the couple I met yesterday, Rebel and Holly.

The guy they kept calling Data is there too, his laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

“Come in, come in, it’s a bit chilly out this morning,” I say as I open the door wider. Cami coos when she sees me, and I run my finger down her soft cheek. “Good morning, sweet pea, were you a good girl for your daddy last night?”

Prophet huffs out a laugh then states, “I’m definitely in over my head right now and already wrapped around her little finger.”

“She’s got that personality for sure,” I reply. “Does anyone want any coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.”

“Coffee sounds good,” Holly says with an appreciative groan. “Lead the way, Phoebe!”

Shaking my head at her dramatics, I walk toward the kitchen, not missing the men’s comments about the uniqueness of my home. Once I have several mugs pulled down from the cabinet, I address what I heard them say.

“Growing up, I loved to read like most little girls, and in one of the stories I adored, they had a house that they described that I wanted more than anything. While this isn’t exactly like that imaginary cottage, it’s close enough that it makes me happy,” I tell them.

“The layout is definitely unique, but it works for me.”

“I like it, it seems very cozy,” Holly says. “In fact, I want a tour before we start packing Cami’s things if that’s okay?”

“Absolutely, grab your mug and I’ll give you the five-cent tour,” I tease despite the ache in my heart.

Rosa dealt with post-partum depression after she had Cami, so I was the primary caretaker for the first two months of her existence.

Seeing her in her father’s arms, where I know she should be, still hurts my soul.

As I give them the tour of my house, I share small tidbits about the renovations I did, as well as what I have planned for the future.

Once we’re back in the kitchen, I say, “I have some boxes out in the garage to pack up her stuff.”

Prophet’s voice is gruff as he replies, “Here, hold her and I’ll go grab them.”

It’s no skin off my nose to hold my cousin and I sigh with contentment as she snuggles close. “Good morning, sweet girl,” I whisper as I kiss her cheek. “Let’s get started in your bedroom.”

It doesn’t take long for the men to disassemble the furniture and remove it, leaving me and Holly to pack the clothes, toys, diapers, and wipes in the countless boxes that magically appeared. Because I didn’t have that many in my garage.

“Is your vacuum in the laundry room?” Holly asks, pulling me out of my latest reverie.

“Yes, why?”

“Because I’m going to vacuum the floor for you,” she replies as she walks out of the bedroom to go get my vacuum.

Shaking my head, I move toward the kitchen and spot Data sitting at the table drinking another cup of coffee. Remembering that he’s their IT guy, I ask, “I have videos of Cami, can I send them to you? Some are with her mom which she might want to see when she’s old enough.”

He nods and rattles off an email address while I start the process of forwarding what I have to him.

I’m trying to be strong, but Data still catches me wiping away a stray tear.

“You know he’ll let you see her, Phoebe.

” His voice is kind and deliberately soft, but it’s like he knew what my biggest fear was.

“I know, it’s just… hard,” I admit. “That little girl, she kept me moving forward on really hard days at work, knowing I’d hear her little giggles and get to hug her close.

” The look on his face has me explaining further.

“Rosa’s delivery was difficult, and she spent several days in ICU fighting off an infection, so she didn’t get to immediately bond with Cami.

That sent her spiraling into post-partum depression.

She sought treatment and therapy, but until her hormones got better regulated, I was the one taking care of Cami. ”

“While you worked?” he questions. “Aren’t your shifts like twelve hours or something?”

“We’ll go with ‘or something’ because depending on where I was working that day, my shifts were more fluid.

I had Cami in the hospital daycare, which is open twenty-four hours, initially while Rosa was getting herself together.

No matter how long the day was, it didn’t matter once I walked into the baby room and saw her, if that makes sense.

I wasn’t lying when I said I tried to get Rosa to tell Eli about the pregnancy or even let him know when Cami was born, Data.

It was a never-ending battle between the two of us, which ended the way it did and him missing out on the first months of her life.

Yes, I’ll miss her, but she’s right where she was supposed to be all along,” I reply.

“Thank you for advocating for our brother even when he wasn’t aware he had a child,” Rebel says, having come in while I was spilling my guts to Data.

“It was the right thing to do,” I profess. “Every child should have their parent or parents, whichever the case may be, in their lives, and Eli is no different. Plus, he’s got all of y’all to help him raise her and I have no doubt she’s going to have a beautiful life.”

I feel myself choking up again so quickly excuse myself and head into my bathroom. I need to have a come to Jesus meeting with the woman in the mirror. It shouldn’t be too much longer before all of them leave, and I can fall apart.

I just have to hold on a little bit longer.

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