They froze.

“Aunt Abby is having her baby. We’re going to the hospital. Get shoes on and let’s go.”

“In our pjs?” Ezra asked.

“Yes,” I said. I searched for Emerson’s sandals, finding one beneath his pillow. I wondered why for half a second before resuming the task of getting all the children dressed and downstairs.

At the same time Jim was stumbling from his bedroom with Trenton and Deana was helping Jack with the zipper on his jacket, all six kids were in the hallway ready to go.

“You’re amazing,” Abby said.

“I’m sorry I gave you a hard time earlier,” I said.

She waved me away, letting me know that no apology was necessary. We were working on two decades of friendship, and nothing was going to interfere with that.

Travis helped Abby to the truck, and Olive climbed into the back with him. Trenton drove, and Jim sat in the passenger seat. Jack and Deana climbed in with Agent Blevins. I made sure everyone was buckled in the van before hopping in next to Shepley. Agent Blevins’ headlights flashed on, and then another two sets flashed on further down the block.

“Shepley,” I warned.

“I think that’s the other agents they were talking about.” He clicked his seat belt into place, and we surged forward behind Travis’s truck.

With every bump, every red light, I thought about Abby.

“Why does it seem like the hospital is a hundred miles away when you’re trying to get a laboring woman there?” Shepley grumbled.

I remembered the first time Shepley drove me to the hospital, terrified the whole way that I’d give birth in the car and wishing I’d had a home birth. But I wasn’t in premature labor, either. Abby was particularly calm for what she was facing, but she was famous for her poker face. I imagined she was trying to keep it together for Travis and the kids.

I wrinkled my nose and turned around, irritated that I couldn’t reminisce or have a moment of internal dialog without the sounds of fighting children in the background.

“Jessica Abigail! No hitting! Ezra! Don’t try to put toys up your brother’s nose! Emerson! Stop screaming! James! Stop farting!”

It was quiet for a full minute before they all began chatting again as if nothing had happened. I rolled my eyes and glared at Shepley.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” I said, my eyes narrowing.

“Give me a dirty look when the kids are driving you nuts? Like I magically impregnated you when you weren’t looking?”

“That is your DNA back there. It’s your fault.”

Shepley frowned, turning on his blinker and surging forward so he could continue to follow Travis’s truck instead of being stuck at a red light. He stretched his neck to peer into the rearview mirror, checking that Agent Blevins was still behind us.

“He probably just ran the red light,” I said. “He’s a federal agent on duty. I’m sure he’s not worried about a ticket.”

“He did,” Shepley said. “Damn. This is something.”

“You mean scary?” I asked.

The kids got quiet.

“Is Mom going to be okay?” Jessica asked.

I closed my eyes. It was so easy to forget when they were all chattering away that they were still paying attention. Kids could ignore us all day, but the moment we utter something we don’t want them to hear, they develop superhero powers. A few times, I was sure Ezra could hear me whisper the F word under my breath through two walls. Shepley glanced over at me and interlaced his fingers in mine. He’d told me hundreds of times how proud it made him to watch me mother our boys, and I took pride in it, too. They were messy and rough and sometimes deaf, but I handled it. Shepley didn’t think I’d never made a mistake, and I loved him even more for that. I could lose my shit, threaten, yell, and cry, but my boys didn’t want perfect. They wanted present.

Shepley pulled into the parking lot near the ambulance bay, and we unbuckled the kids while Travis carried Abby into the Emergency Room. Someone must have called ahead because a nurse was already at the door waiting with a wheelchair.

Trenton fell behind, holding Jim’s cane in one hand and hooking his dad’s arm with the other. After Abby had settled into the seat, she waved to her in-laws and then to us, blowing a kiss to the kids as the nurse wheeled her inside. We had just stepped through the sliding door of the ER waiting room when they disappeared behind double doors. Travis was walking next to Abby’s wheelchair, holding her hand. He was encouraging Abby to breathe, telling her how good she was doing, and how amazing and strong she was. We followed them until they slipped behind the doors. That was when Jessica looked up at Agent Blevins, enormous and towering over us all, and began to cry.

Trenton kneeled beside her. “Mama’s okay, baby girl. She’s done this before. You just don’t remember.”

“Are the babies going to be okay?” James asked.

“There’s just one this time, buddy,” Shepley said, mussing his nephew’s hair with his fingers.

“They haven’t even named it yet,” Jessica cried.

Trenton picked up Jessica and carried her away from the double doors, her gangly legs hanging loosely while he walked. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he flattened her tangled hair against the back of her head, kissing her temple and swaying from side to side.

“You okay, Jim?” I asked, touching his shoulder. He still looked half-asleep and a bit confused.

“I guess they’ll tell us where to wait?” Jim asked.

I nodded. “I’ll ask someone. You can sit if you want.”

He looked around for the closest chair and chose one next to Trenton, who was still standing with Jessica in his arms.

“I’ll go,” Shepley said, kissing my cheek.

He approached the admissions desk, waiting for the clerk to finish up with an elderly couple. Once they walked away, he began speaking with her. She seemed pleasant, pointing and nodding and smiling. Shepley patted the desk a couple of times before saying thank you and then returned to us.

“They’re taking her to the maternity wing on the third floor. They said we should go to the waiting room up there.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go,” I said.

Agent Blevins was in my peripheral, using his tiny radio, I assumed to update the person on the other end of our whereabouts. I knew he couldn’t tell us any more information, so I tried not to dwell on it. An entire department of people in the FBI knew more about what danger our family was facing than we did. The very principle, even beyond a sound reason, infuriated me, but I had to focus on Abby.

We found an elevator and crowded inside—all eleven of us—including Agent Blevins. The elevator dipped a bit when he stepped on, but he didn’t seem worried. Olive pressed the button, and the doors swept shut. The kids were uncharacteristically quiet while the red digital number above the door climbed with each floor. Finally, the door opened, and Trenton stepped off, the rest of us filing out behind him.

Trenton immediately fished out his phone, looking at Agent Blevins. “Have you heard from Perkins yet?”

“He’s arrived at the location. He’s currently waiting for Mrs. Maddox to enter the vehicle. There is a security guard presenting a small problem.”

Trenton smiled. “That’s Drew. He’s the bouncer. Good kid. I should call her. Tell her it’s okay to leave with him.”