Page 93 of The Summer of ’98

“Well, it’s chicken tonight. It was beef on Wednesday and we had grilled cheese last night?”

“Please, baby,” he pleaded with concern. “Just let me cook when I come home. I swear it’s no big deal. And I do love how you make these. I just need something different.”

“I get it. Even I’m kind of sick of them.”

He seemed relieved that he hadn’t upset me. But there was no use in getting worked up over the fact that he wanted a bit of variety. When I thought about it, it made sense why he volunteered to keep all of the Christmas leftovers and bring them home from Castle Rock.He’d been working so hard at college, and I wanted to help however I could. No one wanted to hire me on the grounds that I would be leaving soon to have twins, so I wasn’t working. The most I could do was cook, clean, and keep the home comfortable for Leroy so that he had less to stress over.

We were making it work. But there were still nerves that lingered over the fact that things were going to be a lot harder once the kids were born. Football season would be done once they were here, which would make life just a fraction simpler. But Leroy would still be swamped with his studies.

“How about we go out to eat?” I suggested as I glanced out at the cold night with a wince. “We could go and get a burger or something?”

“I can go and get them?” He stood and took our plates over to the sink, seeming super eager at that suggestion. “You don’t have to go out in the cold.”

“No, I’ll come,” I said and stood, using the table to lean on while I adjusted to shifting. The babies started moving around and I breathed through the acrobatics. It was breathtaking. Literally.

Leroy rushed toward me and wrapped his arm around my back. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” I exhaled, taking his hand and placing it across my stomach so that he could feel the kicks of our son and daughter.

He smiled and crouched down, placing both hands on my belly. “Never gets old,” he murmured.

We were thrilled to be having one of each. When the doctor told us that it was a boy and girl, we had the same response. It was perfect. A brother and sister. A protector and a princess.

After I told Leroy about the dream I’d had, he agreed that it was a sign, a vision of our future, and we had decided on their names with little discussion. He loved Abigail, Abby for short, as he had used in the grocery store back in Castle Rock. And I never was able to figure out where Drayton came from. It was just the name of our dream child and we both thought it was perfect. A strong name.

“Come on, then.” Leroy stood after he pressed a quick kiss on my stomach. He snatched the oversized hoodie from the coat rack and my rain boots, helping me to get sorted before we headed for the front door. “What do you feel like eating?”

“Nuggets,” I responded as he held my hand and helped me down the front step. “Ooh, with barbecue sauce. And a mint shake. With whipped cream on top.”

He laughed as we reached the car. We drove the short distance to the burger joint that we’d become familiar with. I’d gained a fair bit of weight so far—I tried to control the excess with clean eating, but I liked to have a treat occasionally. Cravings are cravings, after all.

We pulled into the drive-thru and Leroy started speaking to the woman in the window while I bopped along to the Creed song on the radio. He paid for the food and drove to the next window to collect the order when I felt an abrupt rush of liquid between my thighs, followed by a tight cramp pain in my stomach.

“Shit!”

Leroy whipped his head toward me with a startled gaze. “Wha—”

“I either just wet myself, or my waters broke,” I shouted, barely aware of the woman in the drive-thru window watching with bewilderment as she held out the bag of food. “I think it’s my waters. Yeah, it has to be—”

I was cut off by another sharp jolt of pain. It lasted a few seconds, and I was aware from the dozens of birthing tapes that I had been watching that these were contractions. “It’s too soon!” I snapped, waving my hands in panic. “I’m only thirty-five weeks!”

“Should I call an ambulance?” the woman in the window asked, leaning out.

“I’m in a car!” Leroy turned to them and grabbed the food, tossing it to me before he slammed the car into gear and tore out of the drive-thru.

“You didn’t need to yell at her,” I panted as I held on to my stomach. “She just wanted to help.”

“I didn’t yell at her!”

“You’re yelling now!”

“I’m freaking out!”

“Get it together! Someone needs to be fucking stable right now!”

Another contraction began to disable me. He reached across and held my hand. “It’s okay. I’m here. We’re not far from the hospital.”

All I focused on was breathing through the pain and ignoring the saturated mess beneath me. But Leroy was right. We arrived at the hospital in good time. Not that I was fully aware of much else going on around me. There was so much fear—the fear of pushing two babies out, the fact that they weren’t meant to be here for another five weeks.

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