The barn door flew open. “Charlie!” my sister Jane called, frantic.
“I’m here!” I jogged into the aisle so she could see me. “What’s wrong?”
Her eyes were bright and excited. “Mom’s in labor!”
“What? She’s early.”
“Just a week. Let’s go,” she beckoned. “Mom wants you to come.”
“To watch the kids?”
“No.” She grabbed my hand, pulling me along. “She wants you to come to the delivery.”
“Me?” I squeaked.
“Yes. You have to hurry. It might happen fast. Emily was only three hours start to finish.” I remembered. “And she has to get to Honeyville Regional in time.”
I dug my heels into the concrete. “She doesn’t want me there.”
“She does!” Jane said, exasperated. She flicked her blond ponytail off her shoulder. “There’s no time to argue. She’s panting and huffing. I can tell it hurts.”
That did it, I kicked into a run, right behind my sister. Jane cranked the side-by-side. We flew over the green rolling hills of our grandparents’ ranch, the warm wind brushing over our cheeks.
“I have to change!” I yelled over the engine.
Jane looked me over, like she was trying to decide if I was a ranch hand or a Jackson Pollock experiment gone wrong. “You don’t just need a change—you need a shower. Fast. I’ll tell Dad to pick you up.”
She dumped me in front of Ford and Peyton’s McMansion. I peeled my muck boots off and left them on the porch—something I would never think of doing under any other circumstance. I sprinted through the house and up the stairs. My room was messy, my bed unmade. I’d have to worry about it when I got back.
Just as I’d dumped a plop of shampoo in my hair, I heard my phone ring on the bathroom counter. Then it stopped and started again. And again. Shoot. I scrubbed as fast as I could, finishing in under five minutes flat.
I checked my notifications.
Dad
Mom’s water broke. We’re waiting in front of the house. We have to GO.
Be there in one minute!
I shot back down the stairs, wearing fresh clothes, my sandals dangling from my fingers.
Drying a dinner plate, Peyton stepped into the hall as I sprinted back by. “Where are you going?”
“Mom’s in labor and she wants me to come!”
“Oh, gracious. Give her my love!”
Mom and Dad’s van was idling on the blacktop, the sliding door open, waiting for me.
The driver's side window was down and even though I could see Mom doing her Lamaze breathing, she smiled like she didn’t have a care in the world. “Hey, sweetie.” She had her makeup on and her hair smoothed back into a bun, wearing a sundress like they were picking me up for church.
Dad, on the other hand, was pacing, phone to his ear, calling me.
“Dad, I’m here!”
Dad shut his door and pressed the gas to the floor. “You took a shower?” he asked, voice tense. Dad wasn’t easily ruffled, so I knew he was super stressed.
“Sorry, I was covered in manure.”
