Because if Evelyn Storm is praying this hard, it means she’s talking to God about something important. Something precious.
Not that any Storm she’s conversing about wouldn’t be, but this baby is precious to us all. And I know we are all thinking the same thing.
We wish Mom were here.
The sound of a door down the hallway opens, and every head in the room snaps up.
It’s just a nurse pushing a cart down the corridor.
We all slump again.
Shelby sniffles. “I hate waiting.”
“Welcome to childbirth,” Grandpa mutters. And he would know. He’s been a witness to the building of two generations.
My phone buzzes.
All three of us sisters lunge for it.
“Update?” Shelby gasps.
I glance down.
It’s a text from Uncle Boone.
Unc B: Bonfire’s out. Food’s packed. Guests sent on their way. Ranch still standing.
I text back.
Me: Thank you for handling everything.
Unc B: No problem. Any news?
Me: Nothing yet.
Unc B: Well, it is Matty’s baby we’re talking about.
I smile.
Boone, Irene, Axle, and Royce stayed behind at the ranch to finish cleaning up the party aftermath.
Which means they’re now settled in the ranch house’s comfy living room, awaiting happy news.
Lucky them.
The waiting room door suddenly bursts open.
“Did I miss it?!”
We all jump.
Imma Jean storms into the room like a tornado of excitement, her bright floral blouse fluttering around her as she carries a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a giant bundle of balloons in the other.
Pink.
Blue.
Yellow.
