“That last game I played, I could barely move after.”
“I know. I remember.”
“It’s why you guys got in that fight.” I shrug fragilely. “I don’t want to be the reason.”
She freezes, and I can see the pieces moving in her brain, see the moment they click into place. She lets out a little gasp. And then she starts crying.
I hug her and pet her hair. “Mama, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. It really isn’t. I’m so sorry, baby. Your daddy and I are having problems, but they are our problems. It is not and never has been your fault. Do you understand?”
I feel like weights upon weights have been lifted off of me. I can tell people what I need. I don’t have to keep everything hidden. It won’t break the entire world after all.
“Yes,” I say.
Scarlett
It is raining.
Amelia Grace and I feel like a spontaneous combustion waiting to happen, and now the weather and the universe have conspired to keep us confined to an enclosed space with six other women. Well, five. Aunt Val hasn’t been over today because Heidi’s really exhausted and keeps having these Braxton Hicks contractions, which Aunt Neely said is totally normal at this stage, but rest and water never hurt anyone.
“It’s looking really good,” says Amelia Grace.
“What?” I say stupidly.
“Your quilt.” She sits down beside me with a glass of sweet tea. “It’s beautiful. It’s like artwork or something.”
“Oh, right.” I am quilting right now. That is a thing I am doing. “Thank you.”
I concentrate very hard on pushing the needle down and back up through the layers of fabric. It is not an easy task with her making the question face. But I don’t have any of the answers. Not ones she’ll like anyway. Because even if I do have these feelings for her, she’s the best person I know. Why would I unleash a train wreck on her?
Thunder crashes overhead, and the needle jabs through the fabric and into my finger. I let out a hiss.
“You okay, sweetie?” Mama puts her hand on my shoulder and eyes the needle meaningfully.
“I’m fine. It was the stupid thunder. My hand slipped.”
Mama hovers. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about anything?”
Her eyes slide to my finger again. Ugh. I never harmed with needles anyway. She knows that.
Amelia Grace pretends to be very interested in the sweet tea she’s drinking.
“Are you sure I can’t go back to the carriage house?” I say it more sharply than I mean to.
“Sweetie, I told you, there are too many big trees over there, and that carriage house is tiny. One good bolt of lightning, and you’d be flat as a pancake.”
“Right.” I go back to stabbing the fabric in front of me.
Amelia Grace winces beside me. It’s not her I’m mad at, but there’s no way for me to explain that without making this situation even more awkward.
“It’s really coming down out there,” says Ellie from the table, where she and Aunt Seema are playing Exploding Kittens.
“There’s a flash flood warning till ten a.m. tomorrow,” says Aunt Seema. “We’re supposed to get at least five inches. Do you think we should move the cars?”
“The cars will be fine, Seema. We’re on a hill. But I wouldn’t recommend driving anywhere till we get the all-clear.” Mama eyes Seema’s jittery hands. “How many cups of chai have you had?”
Seema scoffs. “A number.”
“I’m cutting you off.”
I snort and go back to my quilting. A phone rings a few minutes later.
“Hello?” says Aunt Neely. “All right. Well, how far apart are they?”
My head shoots up.
“Okay, and how long have they been going on? No breaks? Can I talk to Heidi? Hey, honey, how are you feeling? Okay, yep. I’d say you’re in labor. Why don’t you call the midwife, and I’ll head on over.”
She hangs up. And realizes we are all staring at her like OMGWTFBBQ.
“It’s going to be fine,” she says. She heads to the door, and the rest of us follow. “First babies take a long time to get here.”
Famous. Last. Words.
Amelia Grace runs downstairs with our first update after just a few minutes. “She’s already at six centimeters!”
“What does that mean?” asks Ellie.
I whisper an explanation in her ear.
“Oh, gosh, why would you tell us that?”
“I know,” says Amelia Grace. “I had to hide my face when she checked so I wouldn’t throw up. Anyway, it means she’s pretty far along. It’s okay though. The midwife still has plenty of time to get here.”
Amelia Grace says all of this with a serene confidence. This is why she’s the perfect person to sit by Heidi and whisper words of encouragement during her contractions, while Val drives down to check the road. I kind of wish I was up there too, but Heidi asked for Amelia Grace. She knows her best. Plus, can you imagine if it was me up there trying to calm someone? I shudder. Some people aren’t built to handle crisis situations.
I boil some water, while Sky and Ellie read the same Teen Vogue without talking to each other and Mama and Aunt Seema set about cooking a metric ass-load of food.
The next time Amelia Grace comes down, her face is paler. “So, Aunt Neely says she’s hit the transition stage.”
I wince. “Already?”
Amelia Grace shrugs and runs back upstairs. And Aunt Val bursts in soaking wet.
“The creek’s risen over the road. The midwife can’t get here.”
Amelia Grace staggers downstairs. This time she is shaking.
“I think she’s having the baby now. I shouldn’t have looked. Oh, gosh.”
She sits down, fast, and puts her head on her knees. I’m by her side in a minute.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I was so squeamish,” Amelia Grace says into her knees.
“It’s okay. You’re doing great,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “Mom’s going to need help up there. Can you take my place?”
“Me?”
“You’ve been shadowing her—”
“As a lactation consultant. I’ve never seen a birth in person.” The thought of trying to help sends my heart racing, but underneath that, there’s a part of me that really wants to.
Amelia Grace takes my face in her hands. Looks me right in the eye. “You can do this. You’re the bravest person I know.”
With her hands on my cheeks, I feel brave.
And then Heidi lets out a yell that echoes through the house. Mama, Ellie, Aunt Seema, and I run upstairs to make sure everything is okay. Skyler stays with Amelia Grace because she freaks over blood and needles and stuff. The rest of us freeze in the doorway. Heidi is yelling, “No, no, no, no. I can’t do this.” She holds Val’s hand.
Aunt Neely stands up. “You can do this. And you will. You’re going to get to meet your baby soon.” She turns to us. “I need someone to get me some more towels. And wash your hands really well first.”
I wait for someone competent to move. Someone strong. Everyone stares like their faces and limbs are frozen. I run over and start scrubbing my hands even though literally anyone else would be a better choice.
There’s a lot of blood and stuff. I get why Amelia Grace almost passed out. But I focus on Heidi and on doing everything Aunt Neely tells me step by step by step:
Bring up more water.
Apply pressure here.
Help me change this underpad.
“I can’t,” says Heidi.
“You’re doing great,” says Aunt Neely.
“You sure are!” I say. “You are such a super badass. A total BAMF at pushing out babies.” Probably not what you’re supposed to say, but at least there’s a flicker of a smile on Heidi’s face. Neely tells her to push again.
I hear Ellie make a noise behind me, and Aunt Seema leads her away, and Mama goes to make sure the food doesn’t burn, but I’m too busy to really
notice.
“I see hair!” I squeal.
“There’s hair?” says Heidi, smiling.
“Beautiful hair! So much hair! Gorgeous hair!”
Val and Heidi share a sweet smile with tired eyes.
The pushing continues. Mama comes back at some point to squeeze my arm and ask me if I’m okay, and Amelia Grace comes with her. But I can’t leave now, so I tell her I’m fine, and Mama pats me on the back and heads downstairs.
“There’s a head! This baby is freaking beautiful, and you are a rock star!” I tilt my head to the side. Are they supposed to be so blue?
Val joins me so she can see the baby’s face. “Is that—” But Aunt Neely silences her with a shake of her head.
“One more big push,” she tells Heidi.
Amelia Grace had been frozen in the doorway, but now she moves to hold Val’s hand. The inside of my head is a beehive, but I force myself to remain calm. The rest of the baby comes out, body red and wriggling. It has a cord wrapped around its neck. Aunt Neely unwraps the umbilical cord in two quick movements.
“Everything is going to be fine,” she says. “You have a beautiful baby girl, and we’re just going to give her a couple minutes with mom before we cut the cord. Get some extra oxygen and nutrients in there.” She sets the baby skin-to-skin against Heidi’s chest. Even as she’s been talking, more of the color has returned to the baby’s face.
“She’s perfect,” whispers Heidi.
I feel like I can breathe again.
“Oh, thank goodness, she’s going to be okay.” Val walks with shaky legs back to her chair and keels over sobbing into Heidi’s shoulder.
“We can cut the cord now,” Aunt Neely says gently. She squeezes Val’s shoulder. “Did you still want to do it?”
“I don’t think I can,” says Val.
“Why don’t you let Scarlett do it?” says Heidi.
“Me?” I’m 298 percent sure I don’t deserve to be entrusted with something so important.
Aunt Neely wraps her arm around me. “You were wonderful, honey.”
I blush. “Thank you.”
She hands me the scissors and shows me where to cut. It’s kind of like cutting through uncooked chicken, but I manage. Then Aunt Neely tends to the baby and all the stuff that goes on after the baby, which no one ever tells you about, probably because it’s actually pretty gross. I help her even though a part of me wants to flee in extreme disgust.
“Let’s give them a minute by themselves before we bring everyone else up,” Aunt Neely finally says.
Heidi and Aunt Val give me so many hugs and thank-yous that I feel embarrassed. Almost as many as they give Aunt Neely. I give Baby Girl a tiny kiss on the forehead before I leave. It’s hard to take my eyes off her.
I pause in the doorway, take one last, lingering look. Val and Heidi are both crying, wrapped up around this tiny girl like she’s their whole world. I realize Amelia Grace is standing beside me, staring too. We walk downstairs together.
“I can’t believe I did that.”
But she looks at me like she’s always known I could.
“You’re amazing.”
Amelia Grace
I didn’t know my mom could laugh with abandon. When we got here, at least. But now we’re sitting on the deck eating lunch at the picnic table, and there’s sunlight streaming down, and I will never get tired of hearing her laugh that way.
“Oh, I meant to tell you,” says Val. “Heidi shared her birth story on this mom board she’s on, and now two more of her friends want you to be their doula.”
Mom flushes under the praise. “That was so sweet of her. I’ll have to see when they’re due though. Summer’s only got a few weeks left.”
Every time someone mentions how much time we’ve got left, my stomach feels like it’s full of rocks. Thinking about going back to Ranburne. Thinking about seeing my stepdad again. It makes me say something stupidly optimistic.
“What if we just stayed? You’re starting to get so much work here, and you could get your midwife license in South Carolina, and—”
“That would be amazing!” gushes Scarlett. One more reason to stay.
Mom cocks her head to the side, puzzled. “Baby girl, we have a life at home. Friends. Church. I don’t think your stepdad would agree to move.”
Kinda counting on it.
“I know. I just. I guess I don’t want this to end.” And I don’t want to stop seeing you this way.
Mom squeezes my hand. “I know how you feel. But a few doula jobs isn’t enough to move over.”
Her phone buzzes on the table. Speak of the devil. She rushes inside to take it like she always does. Heaven forbid she have friends. Or happiness.
We finish our sandwiches, and I take Mom’s plate inside in case she’s still hungry. Aunt Seema and Aunt Adeline cackle over something as they start the dishes. Mom takes the plate from me with a smile and steps out of the kitchen.
“It’s just Adeline,” I hear her say. “Well, it is her house. She’s here every now and again. Well, yeah, that was the twins. They came with her. What? No, there aren’t any men here. I’m not lying. I just hadn’t gotten around to telling you that Adeline was here. I’m sorry, please, I should have told you. No, you don’t need to come here. I’m not scared of what you’ll find, but you don’t need to—I’m sorry. Please don’t say that. Jay, please, I love you. Okay, fine, but you really don’t need to. I can drive Amelia Grace and I back at the end of the summer like we—I know. I know. I’m sorry. Yes, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll be ready.”
Mom hangs up the phone and her face is different. I try and then try harder, but I can’t find any trace of that woman who was laughing at the picnic table.
“You need to pack your things,” Mom says. “Your stepdad will be here tonight.”
Scarlett
She stuffs the clothes into her bag like they’ve personally wronged her. Socks–pants–sports bra. Bam-bam-bam. Her arm muscles are taut, and her face is screwed up and red, but she isn’t crying. Yet.
“Ames?”
“Hey.” She freezes mid-stuff, like she’s embarrassed to be caught revenge-packing her duffel bag.
“I heard you guys are going.”
She crosses her arms and won’t look at me. “Yeah. He’s coming here tonight.”
“Don’t go.” I say it before I can help myself. I thought we had a few more weeks to figure things out, and if she leaves—And then there’s her stepdad. She can’t go back with people who treat her like that. She just can’t.
“I have to,” she says quietly.
“But what if we try to convince your mom—”
“You heard her at the table. This is what my life is in the real world. My mom will never change her mind about my stepdad, and she’ll never change her mind about me. I’m going home, and I’m going to email Pastor Chris and tell him I’ll stay in the closet for the rest of the time I’m in high school.”
Horrified. I am horrified right now. “You can’t.”
Her voice is wobbly when she answers. “What other option do I have?”
“You could—”
She cuts me off. “I forgot some stuff at the big house. I better go get it.”
I watch her walk down the stairs, feeling like I have absolutely no power over my life. Everything is slipping away, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. And then I look at the attic.
An idea takes shape inside my head. This could work. It’s my only shot. It has to.
I run outside and down to the dock. Ellie practices her PSAT words on a beach towel.
“Amelia Grace’s stepdad is coming, and he’s making her and her mom leave with him.”
Ellie drops her vocab book. “What?”
“I know. We’re having a club meeting. Now.”
“But Skyler and I—”
“Don’t care. This is bigger than that, and you know it. Meet me in the loft in fifteen minutes.”
She gets this steely look on her face and nods the way
you do when you’re about to go off to war. Hell. Yes.
I rush off to find my sister. She’s on the couch in the big house watching yet more Great British Bake Off.
I step right between her and Mary Berry. She opens her mouth in protest, but I run right over her.
“I know you hate me right now, but Ames needs us. They’re gonna take her back to Ranburne and make her be in the closet. Club meeting in fifteen minutes.”
I don’t wait for her to say yes before I walk away. I know my sister.
I talk to Mama really quick since she’s in the kitchen, and I need to get her permission for a couple things. I can hear Amelia Grace upstairs in Aunt Neely’s room. I hope I have enough time. I race back to the carriage house and swing myself up the ladder. Open the little window. Locate the lighter and light each of the candles. Then I sit down beside the bowl where we made our pacts, and I wait.
It isn’t long before Amelia Grace arrives. She lets out a little gasp when she sees me in the loft with candles all around.
“Can you come up here for a second?”
She doesn’t say anything. She seems stunned. But her arms and legs carry her up the ladder anyway. She sits down in front of me.
“What’s going on?” she whispers.
“I can’t let you go. They’ll never let you be yourself there.” She has to listen. The club can make her listen.
“But I already asked my mom.”
“Well, you could try again. And.” Oh, gosh, am I really going to say this? “And if that doesn’t work, you could stay by yourself. Just you. With me.”
Something flickers on her face, and I feel a soaring in my chest, but then she shakes her head. “She’s my mom. I have to—”
I cut her off. With my lips. Holy crap, I am kissing Amelia Grace. For a second, she’s in shock. And then she’s kissing me back, and there’s this feeling, like the world is as it should be. And I’m trying to convince her, only not with words: Stay, stay, stay. Please, stay.
It only takes a few seconds for her to come to her senses and pull away. “What was that?”
I honestly have no idea. I didn’t even know what I was gonna do until it was already happening. All I know is she can’t leave. Not when I’m so close to figuring this out. There’s another way to maybe possibly convince her to stay. And honesty is even scarier than kissing. But here goes:
The Summer of Impossibilities Page 25