I grab the rest of my bags and walk up to the door, hesitating with the key. Am I supposed to knock now? We might have formed an informal verbal roommate agreement, but Daisy had also made it clear she didn’t appreciate the way I’d surprised her this morning.
I swap my keys out for my phone, intending to text Rowan for Daisy’s contact, when I see a string of messages from an unknown number.
Unknown
Hey Landry, it’s Daisy. Hope you don’t mind that I got your number from my brother. I just wanted to see if there were any updates on Loren and the babies.
I’ll keep praying until I hear back from you.
Any news?
Hi. I hate to bother you rn but i ve started feelingg off and worried abt having an eppisode
landry im sry but im going to hav a seizur
The last message came through about twenty minutes ago. I curse under my breath before I drop my bags and scramble to get the key into the lock. I push my way into the house to find Daisy lying on her side on the couch, her long hair curtaining her face.
“Daisy? Are you okay?” I call out as I dart over to her, immediately brushing her hair aside to check her breathing and pulse.
She doesn’t respond, but she does seem to be okay, to my relief. Judging from her current position, she managed to avoid a fall and keep her airway clear, though I can’t tell the extent of her episode. And since I’ve never seen Daisy have an episode before, I don’t know what to expect.
I settle on the floor beside her as I continue my inspection. Her muscles still seem tensed, and I observe a few residual spasms in her legs. I spend the next few minutes softly stroking her hair and reminding her that I’m here, mostly because I don’t want her to panic when she regains consciousness to find a stranger in the house. Eventually she whimpers and cracks her eyes open slightly.
She takes a deep inhale when she recognizes me. “Hi,” she rasps. “Sorry about this.”
“No,I’msorry,” I correct her and swallow down the lump of guilt lodged in my throat. “I should have checked my phone sooner.”
“How’s Lo?” she asks, slowly stretching her limbs.
“She’s doing well, considering.”
“The babies?”
I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s more concerned with them than herself.
“They’re good. Tiny but strong, like their mama.” I smile, even though it’s hard to get the words out. “They’ll be in the NICU for a while.”
“Thank God,” she whispers, relief washing over her face.
I realize I’m still running a hand over her hair, and I clear my throat as I put some space between us. She pushes herself up to a seated position, a string of rosary beads still clutched in her palm. It reminds me of the rosary I saw dangling from JD’s hands at the hospital earlier.
“Thank you for praying for them,” I say, surprising myself.
“Of course,” she replies, rising to a seated position. “I’m so glad they’re okay. How are you?”
I let out an incredulous laugh. “I’m more worried about you. Did you fall or hurt anything before you made it to the couch?”
She shakes her head slowly. “I’m fine. Just feeling a little groggy, but it’s nothing I’m not used to.”
I frown. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink?”
“Water would be nice. Thanks.”
I nod and go into the kitchen, relieved to open a cabinet and find most of Loren’s old furnishings. I bring her a glass of water before I retrieve the backpack and duffel bag I’d left on the porch, which are now covered with bugs. Because we’re in Louisiana.
“You never answered me,” Daisy points out after a while.
“Because I’m not the patient,” I say as I return to the living room and sit beside her, our shoulders bumping. I make a mental note to get another chair, since we only have the one small sofa right now.
