A Beautiful Funeral (The Maddox Brothers #5) - Jamie McGuire Page 0,42

her pallet on the floor. She was pulling on her shoes when I headed for the next room.

“Really. Downstairs in two minutes, please!” I said, rushing down the hall to where Olive was sleeping. “Olive?” I said, switching on the light. I sat down on the twin bed next to her. “Olive, sweetie, I need you to wake up.”

“Is everything okay?” she asked, rubbing her mascara-smeared eyes.

“We’re going to the hospital. Abby is having her baby.”

“But it’s not time yet, is it?”

“No,” I said. “It’s early, which is why she has to go soon. We all have to go together, so please get moving.”

She stood up, stumbling around the room to dress, and I rushed into the next room. “Boys?” I said softly. Emerson sat up, rubbed his eyes, and then jumped on his brothers. They began to fight. “Stop. Stop it. Knock it off. Right now!” I snapped.

They froze.

“Aunt Abby is having her baby. We’re going to the hospital. Get shoes on and let’s go.”

“In our pjs?” Ezra asked.

“Yes,” I said. I searched for Emerson’s sandals, finding one beneath his pillow. I wondered why for half a second before resuming the task of getting all the children dressed and downstairs.

At the same time Jim was stumbling from his bedroom with Trenton and Deana was helping Jack with the zipper on his jacket, all six kids were in the hallway ready to go.

“You’re amazing,” Abby said.

“I’m sorry I gave you a hard time earlier,” I said.

She waved me away, letting me know that no apology was necessary. We were working on two decades of friendship, and nothing was going to interfere with that.

Travis helped Abby to the truck, and Olive climbed into the back with him. Trenton drove, and Jim sat in the passenger seat. Jack and Deana climbed in with Agent Blevins. I made sure everyone was buckled in the van before hopping in next to Shepley. Agent Blevins’ headlights flashed on, and then another two sets flashed on further down the block.

“Shepley,” I warned.

“I think that’s the other agents they were talking about.” He clicked his seat belt into place, and we surged forward behind Travis’s truck.

With every bump, every red light, I thought about Abby.

“Why does it seem like the hospital is a hundred miles away when you’re trying to get a laboring woman there?” Shepley grumbled.

I remembered the first time Shepley drove me to the hospital, terrified the whole way that I’d give birth in the car and wishing I’d had a home birth. But I wasn’t in premature labor, either. Abby was particularly calm for what she was facing, but she was famous for her poker face. I imagined she was trying to keep it together for Travis and the kids.

I wrinkled my nose and turned around, irritated that I couldn’t reminisce or have a moment of internal dialog without the sounds of fighting children in the background.

“Jessica Abigail! No hitting! Ezra! Don’t try to put toys up your brother’s nose! Emerson! Stop screaming! James! Stop farting!”

It was quiet for a full minute before they all began chatting again as if nothing had happened. I rolled my eyes and glared at Shepley.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” I said, my eyes narrowing.

“Give me a dirty look when the kids are driving you nuts? Like I magically impregnated you when you weren’t looking?”

“That is your DNA back there. It’s your fault.”

Shepley frowned, turning on his blinker and surging forward so he could continue to follow Travis’s truck instead of being stuck at a red light. He stretched his neck to peer into the rearview mirror, checking that Agent Blevins was still behind us.

“He probably just ran the red light,” I said. “He’s a federal agent on duty. I’m sure he’s not worried about a ticket.”

“He did,” Shepley said. “Damn. This is something.”

“You mean scary?” I asked.

The kids got quiet.

“Is Mom going to be okay?” Jessica asked.

I closed my eyes. It was so easy to forget when they were all chattering away that they were still paying attention. Kids could ignore us all day, but the moment we utter something we don’t want them to hear, they develop superhero powers. A few times, I was sure Ezra could hear me whisper the F word under my breath through two walls. Shepley glanced over at me and interlaced his fingers in mine. He’d told me hundreds of times how proud it made him to watch me mother our boys, and I took pride in it, too. They