The Truth

“Tiffany!” I shout.

A thread of alarm weaves through the small group in an instant. I’m up and out of my chair, running for her, but it’s not fast enough. Almost bonelessly, she collapses to the floor in a heap, landing hard on her hip before rolling to her back, and I don’t know what’s wrong.

I fall to my knees beside her, cradling her in my lap. “Tiffany?”

She’s breathing. That’s my first relief.

But I don’t know what’s happening.

Ace takes a knee beside me. “We already called 911. They’re on their way.”

A guest comes over and gently tells me, “I’m a friend of Harper’s from work. I’m a school nurse. Let me check her out.”

I give her some room but keep ahold of Tiffany’s left hand. I need to touch her. I need to hold her, even if it’s just her hand.

I just found you. I can’t lose you. You have to be okay. I love you.

The nurse does her assessment quickly and efficiently but doesn’t seem to doing anything to actually help Tiffany. “Well?”

The nurse looks up, her eyes unnaturally calm. “I think she passed out. Has she eaten?”

I think and glance over at her plate. “She didn’t eat any of her meal. She said she wasn’t hungry. But I don’t know about earlier?” I look to Harper, knowing that Tiffany has been getting ready with her all day. But Harper shakes her head. “Nothing?”

Tiffany’s mom, Renee, who I’m meeting for the first time today, jumps in. “She told me her stomach was upset earlier. I don’t think she had more than a few crackers while we were getting ready. I thought it was nerves.”

“Best guess then is she has low blood sugar,” the nurse says. “Everyone, give her some room, and get me something to elevate her feet. And get me one of the kid juice boxes in case she wakes up.”

People hustle to help, but it’s not a minute or two later that the paramedics come in, rolling a gurney. They quickly get to work, doing the same assessment, asking the same questions. “You’re probably right,” the lead paramedic tells the nurse, “but let’s take her in just in case. Ready?”

Placing her on the gurney and lifting the bed to the rolling position rouses Tiffany, but she still sounds groggy, her eyes not quite focused. “Wha–What’s happening?”

“You fainted, Tiffany,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice level and calm. It’s a lot harder than I imagined. “We’re going to get you checked out and make sure everything is okay.”

Her eyes turn to me when she hears my voice, but she looks unfocused and out of it. “I passed out?” Her hand goes to her stomach. “Oh . . .”

Her face looks stricken again, and I stroke her arm to try and keep her with me. “Are you going to be sick?”

She blinks hard and swallows. “No, I–I . . .”

Ace interrupts her stuttered attempt to say something. He presses a hand to her forehead and gets directly in front of her. “You’re going to be okay, Sis. I got you.”

He gives her a pointed look I don’t understand, but Tiffany seems relieved by his assurances.

Meanwhile, the paramedics are done with this. “Okay, folks, let’s roll.”

Ace leans over to the paramedic, whispering something in his ear. The paramedic nods in acknowledgement, and they start to move.

Instinctively, I follow and then realize that Renee, Elle, and Ace are walking along too. As they load Tiffany into the ambulance, I meet her mother’s eyes, both of us uncertain. She must see the desperation in my gaze because she concedes. “Take care of her. I’ll meet you there.”

Ace pulls his mom and Harper into his arms comfortingly and tells me, “We’ll all meet you there.”

The paramedic clears his throat. “If you’re coming, get in.”

Giving Ace a nod, I climb in, following their directions on where to sit. They slam the doors and the sirens turn on. I reach for Tiffany’s hand, taking it in mine. Seeing her on the stretcher terrifies me, and I need to touch her, feel her warmth. “Tiffany, you’re gonna be okay. I’m right here.”

“Daniel?” She’s still barely semi-conscious, her voice weak and slurred. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the paramedic talking on the radio and hear something about a glucose drip. “Is the baby okay?”

I blink, everything fading into the background as I gawk at Tiffany. “The what?”

Chapter 29

Tiffany

The darkness is shattered by the sound of a scream, and then half a breath later, a hitching cry that splits through my sleep to wrest me to zombie-like wakefulness.

“It’s okay, honey, Mommy’s coming,” I slur into the darkness, but before I can get up to get him, Daniel’s hand on my hip stills me.

He whispers in my ear with a sleep-roughened voice, “I’ve got him. My turn, sweetheart. You stay here.”