Page 46 of A Very Merry Matchup
“Thanks.” I take the phone, which is still ringing, from her and answer. “Hello?”
My mom’s typically not one to wish anyone a cheery holiday greeting, so I’m not surprised when she jumps straight to “Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all night. Your father says you’re in Iowa. Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m still here.”
I hear a sigh that sounds close to relief. “Good. Jordan is too.”
My brother’s in Iowa?
“He messaged me late last night. I don’t know all the details, just that he’s at a hospital in Iowa City. Some sortof accident. He said he’s having surgery. How soon can you get there?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Dashing through the snow, in a 4WD pickup truck
Beau
Soon as Ivy hits the bottom step to the kitchen, Mom’s at her side. “What else do you need? How can we help?”
While Ivy and Mom talk, Nana hands me two travel-size mugs full of coffee and Dad squeezes my shoulder. “Roads are a little slick, but you should be okay in the truck.” He just got back from filling it up with gas.
“Thanks for letting us borrow it,” I say quietly since Ivy doesn’t know that’s the plan yet.
“Don’t worry about Hamish,” Mom is saying to Ivy as she hands her a sack filled with containers of fruit and banana bread. “We’ll watch him as long as you need.”
“Hospital still won’t say what’s wrong with your brother?” asks Nana.
“No.” Ivy’s changed out of her Christmas pajama pants into a pair of jeans to go with her white sweater. While she changed, I took a quick shower and threw on some different clothes too.
“All they’ll tell me is that someone named Abbey is listed as his emergency contact, so I’ll need to reach out to her for more information. But I don’t know any Abbey. I don’t even know what my brother’s doing in Iowa right now.” She offers everyone a weary smile. “Sorry to rain on the Christmas parade. I’ll call as soon as I know anything. Thanks for watching Hamish.”
She pauses on her way to the front door when she sees me following with two travel mugs. “What are you doing?”
“Driving. We’re taking Dad’s truck.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can drive slow. No need for you to waste your entire Christmas Day because of me.”
“I’m not wasting anything. Now c’mon. We can continue this argument in the truck.”
And we do. All the way to the interstate. “Really, Beau. You didn’t have to do this.”
“I want to do this,” I tell her for the dozenth time.
“Well, don’t feel like you have to stay. You can just dropme off and get back to Nolly Grove. It might be a while before I even know what’s going on.”
“How will you get back tonight?”
“I’ll sleep in the waiting room.”
“And tomorrow?”
“I’ll... Uber.”
“Or maybe I can just send Hamish to come pick you up.”
“That works too.”
We ride in silence. The radio is pumping out soft Christmas music while the vent pumps out enough heat to keep us comfortable without our coats. A few miles further down the road, she holds out her left hand.
