I stood up and nodded, walking around the hospital bed to the mauve recliner nearby. The nurse had already set a couple of folded blankets and a pillow in a stack on the seat. The recliner made a scraping sound against the floor as I pushed it closer to her bed. I sat down and shook out a blanket, pulled the lever, and leaned back.
Abby used the remote to turn out the lights, and for a few precious moments, it was quiet. Just as I felt myself drift off, the door opened, and I could hear the nurse swishing around the room. She turned on the dim overhead lamp just above Abby’s bed.
“Hi there, Mrs. Maddox. I thought you might want to try pumping.” She lifted a small machine with tubes and what looked like a mini air horn.
Abby looked horrified. “Why?”
“Carter isn’t going to be strong enough to suckle just yet, so we’ll have to feed him through a tube. We have a special preemie formula, but if you prefer, your milk is best. Is that something you’d like to try?”
“I …” she trailed off, looking at the pump. It was completely foreign to her. She’d breast-fed our twins, but she stayed at home, so she’d never used a pump. “I’m not even sure if I have anything to pump.”
“You’d be surprised,” the nurse said. “His stomach is smaller than a marble, so he won’t need much.”
“And it’s okay with the antibiotics?” she asked, holding up her hand. I was so proud of her. Even exhausted, Abby thought to ask questions that wouldn’t even cross my mind.
“Completely safe,” the nurse said.
“Oookay,” Abby said. She listened as the nurse gave her instructions. When we were alone again, she looked at the tubes and container with contempt.
I sat up. “Want me to help?”
“Absolutely not,” she said.
“I can just—”
“No, Travis. If I’m going to have to sit here with this thing on me like a milk cow, you’re not going to help. You’re not going to watch.”
“Baby, it’s not a bad thing. You’re doing it for our son.”
“It just feels very … personal.”
“Okay,” I said, leaving the pile of blankets behind in the recliner. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“I’ll come back in fifteen. Need anything before I leave?”
“Nope.”
“Good luck, Pidge.”
Abby used the mini air horn as a thumbs-up, and I chuckled, willing to do anything to have a light moment in all of this. I closed the curtain and then the door behind me, and returned to the hall in front of the waiting room where my family was. Camille was sitting alone on a bench.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“The nurse brought cots. They’re all sleeping in the waiting room except for Dad.”
“Where’s he?”
Camille nodded her head toward a birthing suite, and immediately, I heard the familiar Jim Maddox snore. He would breathe in through his nose, and then his cheeks would fill with air before it finally pushed through his lips.
“He talked them into giving him a room?”
“He was afraid his snoring would wake the kids. He insisted on having his cot out here, but the nurses caught wind of it, and you know ... Everyone loves Jim.”
“Aren’t you tired?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t think Trent wants my company.”
I sat down next to her. “Cami … you know he loves you. It’s a lot to process all at once.”
“I know,” she said, wringing her hands. “The thing with Thomas and me … It’s been festering just beneath the surface all these years. I knew it would come out eventually, and I knew he’d be angry. I just didn’t expect to feel this much guilt.”
“Because you don’t want to see him hurting.”
“No, I don’t.”
I looked down at the ground. “No one’s going to escape it this time.”
“Have you heard from Liis? Any updates?”
“No,” I said. It was the truth. I didn’t need any updates. I knew exactly what was going to happen.
“They said she was flying in. Isn’t that weird she would do that? While Thomas is recovering?”
“She has a new baby, and …” I trailed off. I didn’t want to lie anymore, and the worst was still ahead.
Camille grew quiet. “He didn’t make it, did he? She wants to tell us in person.” When I didn’t answer, Camille stared at me until I faced her. “Tell me, Travis. Is he dead?”
“You want to keep more secrets from Trenton? What if he finds out you knew something about Tommy before him? Again?”
“Just tell me,” she said. “I deserve to know.”
“More than anyone else?”
“Trav. I’ve been protecting his secret for him for years.”
“And look where it got you.”
Camille thought about my words and sat back. She closed her eyes, appearing pained. “You’re right.”
I stood up, leaving Camille alone with her quiet tears. As I walked away, I was surprised to feel even heavier than before. That would have been one less person I would’ve had to destroy. I froze in the hallway, in front of Abby’s door, realizing we would have to tell the kids. My kids. I would have to look them straight in the eye and tell them their uncle was dead.
I closed my eyes, wondering how I could ever explain why they couldn’t lie later in life. How could they ever trust me after that? I pushed open the door just as Abby was screwing the lid on the milk container.
“How did it go?” I asked.
She paused. “What’s wrong?”
“The kids,” I said.
She jerked up. “What about the kids?”
I sighed. “Fuck. No, I’m sorry. They’re fine.” I sat next to her, gathering the pump and tubing in one hand, the container in the other. I kissed her forehead. “They’re fine. It just hit me that we’re going to have to tell the kids about Thomas.”
She looked up at me, her eyes wide. “They’ll be heartbroken.”
“And then … later …”
Abby covered her eyes, and I hugged her. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“They’ll never trust us again.”