The Manger House Read online

  Anyway, it was just as well that Tatum spent the evening away from home. Cadence and Darla had taken the ferry into town for another prenatal appointment and wanted to do a little shopping after. Tatum, not one to enjoy errands, had readily agreed to get up bright and early Thanksgiving morning to clean and cook and get all ready for their guests. Their mother, Pat, and the girls—Lotte, Fay, and Mila.

  So, here she was. Back at her sister’s boardwalk house, bright and early, with her clan of canines in tow. “Hello-oo?” Tatum bellowed into the whitewashed abyss once the dogs and Charm the cat had been fed and settled. “I don’t smell any coffee!”

  Cadence appeared from the kitchen, her face twisted up to match her messy French do. “Where were you?”

  “At the farm.” Tatum turned defensive on a dime. “I told you—why? What’s wrong?”

  “We were trying to call you. Text you—find you.”

  “You could have driven to the farm—”

  “Tatum,” Cadence hissed, her eyes flying upstairs. “It’s Darla. She had her OB appointment last night. Remember?”

  Of course Tatum remembered. But, so what? Darla had at least two or three weeks until her due date. She was working her life away at school. Everything was fine.

  Right?

  Panic streaked like a bolt of lightning across Tatum’s heart as she realized that maybe everything was not fine. And if Cadence’s hushed hisses and pained looks were any indication, things were absolutely not fine. Not even close.

  “What.” The word fell out of Tatum’s mouth like an anchor.

  Cadence drew closer, her eyes again flicking upstairs. It was then that Tatum realized how empty the house had seemed when she’d gone over to situate the pets. How hungry Charm was. How needy. As if no one had been home last night.

  “Cadence, what is it?”

  “Darla’s not having…just…a baby.”

  “Well, what in the world is she having?” Pictures of newborn polar bear cubs and caribou calves with white downy fur played across Tatum’s brain like a snowy movie reel. Laughter crept into the back of her throat at the thought of Darla having an animal baby, and she knew she was being immature and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it. She was about to have the giggles. Until Cadence, whose face remained stony, replied.

  “Twins.”

  Chapter 5—Cadence

  Cadence dropped the news on Tatum with as much gravitas as she could muster since she had a feeling Tatum wouldn’t immediately appreciate how serious a situation they were in.

  Or how exciting.

  Tatum was appropriately shocked. “How could that be? She’s been going to the doctor regularly.”

  “That doesn’t ward off twins, you know.” Cadence ushered her little sister into the kitchen. It was important that Darla use the morning to rest, after all.

  Tatum glared. “You know what I mean. How did the doctors not see this before? Didn’t she have an ultrasound already?”

  “Yes, but that was early on—very early—and little babies are, well, little.” A smile pooled across Cadence’s mouth. For her, news of twins was nothing short of thrilling. Twins! A new wave of excitement coursed through Cadence’s body. Their lives had already changed so much in a matter of months, and they’d expected this new, other huge change. But twins? It was double the transformation in the Sageberrys’ lives. Twins meant two cribs. Two car seats. A double stroller. A bigger room? Mentally, Cadence pictured Darla’s bedroom next door. She’d gotten the master suite in order to accommodate the bassinet and all baby bath products. But now she’d need two bassinets. Or what if Darla didn’t want to use bassinets at all? Wasn’t co-sleeping in? Wasn’t co-sleeping dangerous? Cadence worried her lip when she realized Tatum was staring at her, waiting for a further explanation.

  “Wouldn’t something else suggest twins? Like a special test or something? And also, aren’t most twins born, like, a month or two early, even?” Tatum scavenged the pantry for a muffin, then grabbed a mug for coffee, handily splashing the lukewarm dregs from earlier into the mug. Bright and early had been their plan, originally, but to Cadence that meant six o’clock. To Tatum, it meant nine or so. Of course, the plan had been crafted before Cadence and Darla had the OB appointment. Before the bombshell news.

  “Two months would be dramatic, but yes. You’re right,” Cadence acknowledged. “Usually, people know. With Darla, though, they didn’t. As for her due date—that’s irrelevant now. Her age coupled with the fact that we didn’t know there were two babies makes her a bit of a high risk, so they’re going to induce.”

  “You mean she’ll deliver early.” Tatum’s confusion turned to glee, and this was where Cadence and Tatum’s sisterhood shone: in their shared happiness for Darla and the future. The promise of a new generation.

  Cadence waited for Tatum to lower her coffee before responding. “Yes. Actually, the doctors were pretty adamant that we expedite the whole thing. They wanted to schedule her immediately.”

  “Immediately? Like, Monday morning, or—?”

  “Like today.”

  Tatum shuffled backward, her arms waving in front of her as if to ward off her own disbelief. “It’s Thanksgiving.”

  “Unborn babies don’t really care about Thanksgiving, Tate.”

  “But doctors do! What doctor wants to give up the tastiest holiday of the year?” Tatum reddened. “I mean—if they think Darla needs to deliver, I support that. It’s just…crazy, right?”

  Cadence smiled and shook her head, swiping Tatum’s crumbs into her palm and brushing them into the trash before carrying her coffee mug to the sink. “To answer your question, good doctors are willing to give up turkey in order to help their patients. They do this all the time—sacrifice special occasions for their career.” Her head snapped up. “A lot of people sacrifice things for their careers, you know.”

  “True,” Tatum agreed airily. “Even their families.”

  The two shared a look, and a dozen things could have passed between them. The reminder of losing their dad too young, before he’d even retired. The reminder that they’d grown up as latchkey kids while both parents worked hard at often-unforgiving jobs and sometimes more than one a piece. Not only that, though. Cadence, too, felt Tatum’s quiet acknowledgment of the route that Cadence herself had taken—the road less traveled in the context of the Sageberrys’ upbringing. Marrying Hendrik was like leaving the world she knew for one that only existed in storybooks. One in which there never seemed to be a conflict with attending the girls’ school plays or spelling bees because there wasn’t a career. Van Dam money had covered everything. Until the bitter end.

  Then again, there was one conflict that split across their lives like two tectonic plates breaking apart and forcing an earthquake from below. The unlikely reality that two people in the same family could come down with fatal illnesses within the same timeframe. Die within the same timeframe. That conflict wasn’t a career versus family thing, though. There was no sacrificing work to tend to her ill husband, and of course there was no sacrificing her husband to tend to work. Cadence had quit teaching when they’d married. In the end, though, there was a sacrifice to be made. The sacrifice of saying goodbye to her father in order to say goodbye to her husband.

  Cadence forced a bright smile across her face. Darla and Tatum had returned to her life, and she knew what a precious gift she’d been given. A second chance to keep her family close. She would give up anything to keep them, too. Anything in the world. Even the life she’d carved for herself on the boardwalk. Content in her resolve, she gave the countertop a final wipe with a paper towel and said, “Luckily, we put each other first. And anyway, none of us has to make that sort of sacrifice. Family first. Right?”

  But Tatum was on her phone, studying something with a feverish expression.

  “What is it?”

  Tatum turned the phone screen to show Cadence what had captured her attention so totally. There, beneath the cracked-like-an-egg screen protector, was a social m
edia page. Cadence read aloud from the page name. “Heirloom Island Community for Our Pets.” Her eyes fell to the subheading. “Three hundred members, wow. I didn’t realize islanders were active on that site.”

  “It’s not the page.” Tatum thrust the phone closer. “Look at the post.”

  Cadence read an all-capital-letters announcement, complete with a garland of asterisks and sad-face emojis.

  * * *

  ***HELP!!! THIS SWEET CAT AND HER LITTER OF SEVEN JUST FOUND IN BACK OF THE BAIT SHOP DESPERATELY NEED FULL-TIME FOSTER CARE THROUGH THE HOLIDAY WEEKEND. ALL ISLAND FOSTERS ARE FULL. PLEASE SHARE FAR AND WIDE AND HELP US GET THIS PRECIOUS FELINE FAMILY A HOME SO THEY DON’T FREEZE TO DEATH OUT THERE!!!***

  * * *

  “Tate,” Cadence started. Tatum pulled the phone back as her frown turned deep. “That’s so sad.” The statement was meant as a blow-off, and not because Cadence wasn’t genuinely sad for the cat and her kittens, but because they had to leave in less than thirty minutes. Darla needed to be up and dressed and packed, and the three of them needed to get to the hospital in Lakeview. They had a Thanksgiving dinner to cancel, and they had twins to welcome into the world. That very day. An edginess crept beneath Cadence’s skin. “I’m sure someone will take them. Social media is so powerful these days. They’ll get a home in no time. Check back later tonight. Mark my words, they’ll be settled in some little old lady’s mudroom with a space heater and a bowl of milk.”

  Tatum shook her head, though. She looked at Cadence pleadingly. “Cadence, this is it.”

  “Tate, today is the day our sister is giving birth. Tatum, Darla is going into surgery, possibly. If she doesn’t dilate with the induction, they will perform a C-section. It’s…serious.”

  “I know,” Tatum replied, her reverie breaking only to wash back over her countenance. “It’s just—the comments say that they found the cats three days ago. The Bait Shop owner won’t keep them. They need a place, and I can help. This could be my first rescue.”

  “Why don’t you send them a message and explain that you’re away today but you can check in tomorrow?” Cadence was being reasonable, she thought. Very reasonable and compassionate to all parties concerned, not the least of whom was Darla, the pregnant one.

  Before Tatum could reply, Darla appeared in the doorway, her hand on her protruding belly, her face clean and dark hair neat. She wore the soft cotton pajama set they’d bought before returning home last night. She looked ready to leave. “Is everything okay?” Darla asked, her face crinkling in worry.

  “Well,” Tatum began, to Cadence’s incredulity, “what time are you supposed to check into the hospital, exactly?”

  Cadence threw her another sharper look, and Tatum held up her hands in surrender. “I’m just…asking.”

  Chapter 6—Darla

  “I check into the hospital this morning. Why? What’s wrong?” Darla pressed Tatum. “Do you have to be somewhere?”

  “Everything is fine,” Cadence said, giving Tatum a sharp look. “Tatum was going to take in a litter of stray kittens, but she wasn’t thinking about our big news.”

  “Our big news?” Darla couldn’t help the little dig. Cadence’s overprotectiveness had grown into a monster. She turned again to Tatum. “The litter—you’re going to take them in?” She knew what this meant to her sister despite the big drama of the day. Darla’s hand moved in wide circles around her belly. She felt Cadence’s stare on her and looked up at her older sister, whose brown hair was swept back in a pretty braid. Her makeup impeccable, and her outfit at once comfortable and chic, she could have been the mother of the bride. Or the mother of the mother-to-be, as the case was.

  “No,” Tatum said. “I’m going to try and get them tomorrow.” Her voice deflated and her shoulders drooping, she reminded Darla of when they were teenagers and Tatum had been forced to join the family for church even though there’d been a hurt baby bird panting beneath the dogwood tree in their front yard. Tatum had never been one for church anyway, and with a wounded animal to tend to, it’d seemed the more saintly thing to do was to help the animal. Wouldn’t God have preferred that? Their parents had convinced Tatum to move the little winged thing into an old shoebox for safe keeping until they’d returned from Mass.

  Darla considered this. She knew Tatum’s situation, and she knew it could be weeks before everything was set up and running. Tatum wasn’t quite ready to take on any rescues, but she was excited. So excited, in fact, that she’d camped out in the farmhouse across the island in order to get a feel for it. Perhaps that was why they couldn’t get in touch with Tatum all night, but it hadn’t bothered Darla as much as it had Cadence. Now, of course, Darla wanted Tatum at the birth, but did she really need to be there all morning during the prep? Couldn’t they call her when things were heating up? It might be hours until anything substantial happened at the hospital. Anyway, even their mother wasn’t leaving Detroit for another hour, and she had a drive ahead of her.

  “Tate,” Darla said, “why don’t you go ahead and pick them up? Get them situated—the kittens, I mean. We’ll be at the hospital, and we aren’t going anywhere.” Cadence didn’t laugh, but Tatum’s face lit up. Darla went on. “We’ll call you when it’s getting closer to go-time. Right, Cade?”

  Cadence pursed her lips but tilted her head at Tatum. “Are you going to keep your phone on you?”

  “I promise. I swear.” Tatum hopped up and down before grabbing Darla’s hands from her belly and squeezing them. “I love you. Call me as soon as you need me—I’ll literally sprint there. I’ll swim if I have to.”

  “You might have to. We’re taking the boat, and it’s Thanksgiving,” Darla replied, stealing a look at Cadence. “We are taking the boat. Right?”

  Cadence leaned closer to the window to look out at the water. Darla knew what she was worried about, of course. She was worried about whether the boat would be fixed in time. Darla wasn’t, though.

  She had managed to find the phone number for the boat mechanic Hendrik used to use. A guy by the name of Jimmy Winters. He was a loner, or at least that’s what Darla took him to be: an islander whose yellow pages business entry was one line, no frills: Jimmy Winters, Marine Mechanic, followed by what must have been his landline number; because the first time Darla had called, she’d gotten what sounded distinctly like an old-fashioned answering machine, complete with a beep. Darla had left a message, apologizing profusely for calling on the holiday and promising to pay double his usual rate. He’d called back not five minutes later, apologizing that he hadn’t answered. He hadn’t had any plans for the day, anyway, and he was happy to help Cadence, whom he recalled from way back when.

  Now, he toiled away at the boat, and signs of life were emerging through sputtering engine noises here and there.

  “I hope,” Cadence replied to Darla. “If the boat doesn’t get fixed, then we’ll call Mason.”

  Darla stiffened at his name. Mason would be a last resort. It was too awkward for her to see him, especially in her present condition.

  “I’m sure everything will work out,” Cadence added, apparently aware of the effect her suggestion had on Darla. “Jimmy will fix our boat. Tatum’ll catch the ferry. We’ll meet at the hospital when it looks like the babies are close.”

  “And after the delivery, Tatum can order in a big stuffed turkey with all the fixings.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that.” Cadence tsked with her finger. “I’ve already told the girls that we’ll delay Thanksgiving dinner. We’ll have it here. Just a little later than planned.”

  “I might not be home for a few days,” Darla pointed out. “And that’s if all goes well.”

  “Sis, you might not be home for a week or more, depending. Labor is no joke, and delivering twins is double the drama.”

  “Oh, no.” Darla brushed her sister off. “In a week, I plan to be running rehearsals for the Christmas show.”

  Neither sister answered.

  Darla bristled at their silence and the
glance they exchanged. “What?”

  Cadence offered a tight smile. Tatum shrugged.

  But Darla knew she was right. That she’d be one of those moms. The ones with a flat stomach just weeks after childbirth. The ones who master sleep routines and feeding cycles. Who return to work and pump in the break room, filling up bags of breast milk like dairy cows for the gurgling happy baby back at home, waiting to spend a quiet, peaceful evening with Mom.

  They’d see. Darla would have these babies, take a week—ten days tops—to recover, then hit the ground running. She could do it all.

  And she would.

  Chapter 7—Tatum

  Tatum wasted no time in reaching out to the social media poster, then driving directly to the Bait Shop. She figured she could get the phone call to report to the hospital at any moment, and so she’d have to get the cat and her kittens fast, pull together supplies, then get everything to the farm within an hour or so. She hoped to have a chance to settle them before rushing back to the ferry and praying that she could get to the mainland that way.

  “Hi,” she said to the shopkeeper, a familiar face. “Are you the one who posted about the cat and her kittens?”

  “Yes, I’m Sharon,” the portly, plain-looking woman replied easily. “Come on back here.” As they walked through the cramped shop and toward a back storeroom, the woman explained the circumstances surrounding the feline family. Her midwestern Michigander dialect was stronger than Tatum was used to. A fine example of a true island local, this kind woman. “Just a coupla days ago I took the trash out, and I heard a little mew, and I lifted up a big, ol’ piece of cardboard, ya see, and there she was, mama and her babies.” They arrived at a far corner of the storeroom, behind a tower of boxes. Within the fortress was the mother cat in question, with her kittens, snuggled in a box. The mother was white as newly fallen snow, and half of her kittens were, too. The other half were a motley calico mix.