58. Kendra
Kendra
Christmas is next week and my cabin is officially done. Easton and Eli made me promise with half a dozen different types of swears and fancy handshakes that I wouldn’t go back over there without them because they had some grand reveal planned for when Eli got off his next shift tomorrow.
It is so so so tempting to go alone, but I won’t do it. They worked too hard for me to spoil this for them.
Plus, I have bigger things going on. This is my first time watching Wren totally on my own overnight.
When Eli’s home we do all her routines together; he is insistent on looping me into everything.
It never feels like it’s them against me, or that I am an interloper in their lives.
Eli has made me fully a part of it, claimed me, connected us, made me more comfortable here than I ever thought possible.
Holly normally takes Wren every time Eli is on shift.
It’s the plan they came up with when she was born, and I take zero offense that it’s what they stuck to even after I healed enough to help out more.
Me staying here full time was never in the cards, and keeping Wren on her schedule is important.
This shift however, Holly is sick, so it’s just been me and Wren .
. . and it has been everything. I wish I could have this all the time, and that thought makes me feel selfish and unmoored.
I’m moving out—soon—and Wren isn’t my daughter.
Her dark hair, deep navy-blue eyes, and adorable dimple are one hundred percent Eli.
When I look at her, I can’t help but wonder what traits of her birth mother she has.
Her nose? Will Wren have her same laugh?
There is one thing I know for sure, Wren has nothing from me.
I have no claim over her even though I love her as deeply as if she were my own flesh and blood.
She babbles and flaps her hands around with some fussiness. Her gummy smile absolutely melts me into a puddle as I scoop her into my arms from her spot on the floor where she was playing with an assortment of toys without her normal enthusiasm.
“Alright, peanut. It’s bath time. I happen to know your favorite yellow ducky friend and his favorite purple pelican pal are waiting for us right where we left them on the edge of the tub.”
I kiss her neck rolls as we go up the stairs and she lets out a raspy squeal of delight.
“You are a little warm. All that kicking your feet give you a workout? Just like your dada, huh? He’s going to be teaching you all kinds of crazy moves before we know it.” Wren snuggles into me and yawns. “Okay, I know. We’ll make this a quick one.”
After a fast bath, I put Wren in my favorite pajamas for her that are covered in baby farm animals. She rubs her eyes and coughs roughly a few times as I make her bottle. I pray she’s not getting whatever Holly has.
We make our way back up to her nursery and settle into the rocking chair. I slip the bottle into her mouth and Wren lazily starts to drink. Normally she is a voracious eater, so I feel her head again and she’s still a bit warm.
My phone pings with a text.
Eli: How are my girls?
Photo: Wren in her pajamas drinking a bottle
Kendra: Just finished bath time. She’s sleepy and a little warm. Not her usual hungry, but still very snuggly.
My phone immediately rings and I answer.
“Hello?”
“Is she okay?” a worried Eli demands.
“I think she might be getting a little cold or something, possibly from your mom, unfortunately. But she doesn’t seem to be too upset or uncomfortable right now.” I try and reassure him.
“Right, I’m coming home.” There’s shuffling in the background.
“Eli, no. I got this.” I wait.
Letting out a long sigh he says, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I have helped out Sutton plenty when Kinsley has been sick. And you can’t just leave work.
You don’t have a normal job. On top of that, you were out for a long time when she was born and then when I was hurt.
You need to be there. You have people to count on when you’re at work. Let us be your village.”
“You’re amazing. You know that? I l. . . like knowing you’re the one that’s with her.” His words make my heart pound because I have a strong feeling he just stopped himself from saying some other word. A word that would change my entire life.
“I like being here with her too,” I admit softly, looking down at the precious girl, now asleep in my arms.
“Okay, sweetheart, let me know if anything changes, if you need me.” Eli lets out another long sigh.
“I’ll always need you,” I admit.
“Thank fuck,” Eli says.
A pitiful cry and barking cough wake me up abruptly. I fling myself from bed and sprint down the hall to get to Wren, slamming my shoulder into the doorframe in the dark. I barely feel it, because all I can think about is getting her into my arms.
“I’m here, peanut, it’s okay.” I cradle Wren gently to my chest and she rattles us both with her harsh cough. It’s so painful sounding, seal-like, definitely a noise that shouldn’t be coming from her tiny body. She is also burning up.
As quickly as I can, I get Wren out of her cozy sleeping bag and go to change her diaper.
It’s totally dry, which also worries me.
I snag her in-ear thermometer from the top drawer of the changing table and wait impatiently for it to do its job and beep.
It flashes an alarming 102.5. Between barking coughs, her breaths are noisy and unnatural.
Without hesitation, I race to my bedroom more carefully this time, Wren in my arms with her favorite bunny stuffy from the rocking chair in her room.
Laying her on my bed, pillow barrier surrounding her, I throw on the first items of real clothing I can get my hands on, not giving a shit what they are.
All I know is that I can’t go outside in sleep shorts and a tank top.
Hair in a messy bun, phone in my back pocket, I take Wren in my arms. She fusses and fists my shirt. “I know, peanut, you don’t feel good, huh? It’s going to be okay. We are going to make you feel better, I promise.”
I kiss her head, bring her downstairs, and place her carefully into her bucket car seat carrier.
There is a matching base in my car that Eli put in just in case I needed in for the past couple days, thank God.
We assumed it would be for fun things like going to see Sutton and Kins, or a girls’ day out, not an emergency in the middle of the night.
I grab the prepared diaper bag from the hallway closet, my purse, jacket, and finally Wren who’s clutching her bunny and breaking my heart with every cough.
After I settle her into my car, I pull out my phone and do that last thing I want to do but know I have to . . .
Kendra: Wren is really sick. 102.5 temp, barking cough, not breathing normally. I am taking her to the ER right now. Meet us there.
Eli is going to freak out. I should call, but I don’t have a fancy car that connects, I forgot my earbuds on my dresser, and I need to focus on getting us to the hospital safely.
My number one priority right now has to be Wren; Eli will understand that . . . and hopefully he won’t be mad that I’m not answering his flashing phone calls lighting up my screen from the cupholder.