“Mama Ginger, what are you doing?” I called, waving excitedly.
Mama Ginger whirled at the sound of my voice, no longer struggling with the hospital’s linebacker. With Mama Ginger distracted, Zeb slunk around the admissions desk, behind her back, and into the maternity ward. She didn’t look pleased to see me, but I did provide the excuse to complain about her treatment in a really loud voice.
“This silly woman says they don’t have a patient named Jolene Lavelle listed here, but I know she’s here! I saw her mother’s car out in the parking lot!” she cried, her voice reaching hysterical levels. Several nurses poked their heads into the hallway, but seeing who it was, they ducked back into the patients’ rooms.
“Jolene must be listed as a private patient, Mama Ginger,” I said, keeping my voice soothing. She shied away when I tried to loop my arm through hers, so I took her elbow and led her into the waiting room. “That means the nurse can’t tell you if she’s here. It’s against the law.”
When we walked into the waiting room, Jolene’s entire pack was waiting there. It was fortunate that very few women in town seemed destined to have Halloween babies, because there would have been nowhere for their expectant families to sit. Jolene’s aunts, uncles, and cousins were lounging on every available surface. Jolene’s male relatives had that healthy, hearty, but blank look about them. Yes, they were nice to look at, but all hotness aside, I’d like to spend my time with someone who doesn’t live his life according to tenets set forth on Walker, Texas Ranger . The aunts were convened in a corner, eyes darting from one side of the room to the other, absorbing it all. They all seemed to be enjoying the novelty of the experience, with the exception of Aunt Vonnie, whose mouth was puckered and unhappy.
Mimi and Lonnie McClaine, the only McClaines who liked me, were pacing the room, their stances defensive and agitated. Lonnie McClaine was picking a giant bouquet of carnations to shreds. But fortunately, there were backups. It looked as if the babies were about to be coronated. The room was absolutely packed with flowers and stuffed animals. Half of the flowers were pink, the other half were blue. They had teddy bears wearing tutus and bears wearing baseball uniforms. And a ham, which I guessed was gender-neutral.
Nothing like covering all of your bases.
Now that Jolene’s presence in the labor room was confirmed, Mama Ginger started screeching, “I have a right to see my grandchildren born!”
The entire pack flinched at once. I threw myself on top of Mama Ginger, both to keep her from launching herself toward Jolene’s delivery room and to serve as a shield—just in case Jolene’s relatives still held grudges about Mama Ginger’s wedding-related sabotage. From the floor, I looked up to find a circle of emotionally high-strung werewolves glaring down at us.
“Mimi?” I called. “Could you keep your family from, you know, committing public homicide?”
“Come on, y’all, calm down,” Mimi chided, rolling her eyes. “My baby’s having babies, I can’t take time to bail your asses out of jail.”
The pack let out a collective huff and backed down. Because Mimi was the alpha female and they pretty much had to.
“They’re my grandbabies,” Mama Ginger whined. “I belong in that delivery room! I’ve been waiting Zeb’s whole life for this. I have the right to be in there with him!”
Mama Ginger tried to push up off the floor, and I forced her back down. Please, Lord, don’t let someone I know see me wallowing all over the hospital floor on top of Mama Ginger. Or the cops, who would probably assume I was trying forcibly to drain her. “No, you don’t, Mama Ginger. Whosoever’s hoo-ha is on display, that’s the person who decides who gets to be in the room. And Jolene didn’t even ask her own mother to be in the room, so that should tell you something. Zeb will come and get us when they’re good and ready to see us. Now, just sit down and read a damn magazine.”>“I’m not, I just, I didn’t know I could have that effect on you,” she admitted. “You seem … unflappable sometimes.”
“It’s all a clever ruse,” I said, blowing my bangs out of my face. “I’m extremely flapped most of the time.”
Jenny wiped at her eyes, but I think that had more to do with her impromptu facial than emotion. “You’re going to outlive my boys, Jane. And their children, and their children. Don’t you think I’ve thought of that? When my grandchildren are lying in the nursing home, you’re going to be the one packing up everything they own and deciding who gets what. You’re the sole survivor, no matter what any of us does. You’re going to outlast us all. I think that’s why I went so crazy about all those family heirlooms. I figured, it’s going to come to you in the end anyway, so why don’t you let us just borrow it for a little while? And when you said no, I don’t know what came over me …”
“To be honest, the stuff doesn’t matter that much to me, Jenny. I just like to screw with you, and this seems like the only way to get you. I’m sorry I’ve been a little petty about the heirlooms. I just wish you would have told me things like this before, you know, I died,” I offered.
More awkward silence.
“What do we do now?” I asked, hesitantly sitting next to her.
“I don’t know,” she said, sinking back into the mud, clearly exhausted by her emotional unburdening.
“You could stop being such a hag at every single family gathering,” I suggested.
She lifted her head to glare at me.
“Too soon?” I asked. She nodded.
“Well, we could stop sniping at each other and focus our anger where it belongs,” I said.
“Mama?” Jenny asked. I nodded.
“It won’t be like this forever,” Jenny promised, placing a tentative hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah.” I sniffled. “Someday Grandma Ruthie will be locked safely away in a home for the elderly/criminally insane.”
“Jane!”
I brightened. “Can I pick the home?”
“Jane!”