“But I want to buy it,” Everett said. “You and your family lived here for a long time, and I can’t just take it from you and Deacon. It’s your property.”
“No,” Rebecca said. “It’s mine. My property. Exclusively. And it’s my say what happens to it. It just so happens that Deacon fully agrees.”
“But as a gift?” he asked. “A house? You have to see why that’s just too much.”
“It isn’t,” she said. “And if you won’t sign it, then I’ll just have to give the whole damn thing to Helen and the baby. Just think of it as a baby shower gift.”
“A really big one,” I said.
Rebecca laughed. “One you have to update the HVAC system for in about five years, but yes.”
“Are you sure about it?” Everett asked. “It just feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”
“Not at all,” she said. “I was going to sell it to you anyway. But with the way things are going with the logging business and me getting people requesting tattoo work already, I can afford to do this. And I want to do this.”
Eventually, Everett agreed, and when Deacon and Rebecca left, the joy caught up to him. We were going to own the house. Together. As a family with our twin babies.
Twin babies that didn’t have names yet, even as month seven rolled around. We knew we wanted the names to be similar but still didn’t have firm ideas yet. Harleigh and I had become closer since she had experience with her twin daughters, and she was giving me tips on things I should prepare for that only mothers of twins really knew.
As month eight rolled around, the situation was getting desperate. Baby book after baby name book had been bought, gone through, and tossed aside. We had no idea what the babies were going to be named and it was starting to stress me out to the point of stomachaches. I couldn’t have my children and not have names. Visions of a cheap horror story began rolling through my head. The mother of the nameless children. They would be ostracized by the other little babies.
I had sat and fretted over those names for so long that one day, the stomachache was so bad that I cried out in pain. Everett had just gotten out of the shower, ready for work, and came running in still wet and naked. Normally, I would have enjoyed seeing him that way, maybe even coaxed him into bed with me for a gentle romp, but the pain was so great and the pressure so strong that all I could concentrate on was the sudden wetness below.
“Oh God,” I said. “I think my water just broke!”
“Here we go,” he said, suddenly frantic, spinning in circles and looking for our go-bag. It would have been hilarious if I wasn’t in so much pain.
He dressed quickly, and I changed into comfortable clothes that I could remove in layers before he got me into the truck. We arrived at the hospital a half hour later, and our friends were already filtering in with us. It was a month ahead of time, but it was going to have to do. My babies were ready for their big debut.
Names slid across my mind as I went into full labor, and hours later, as I held my baby girl in one arm and my baby boy in the other, they still didn’t have ones yet. But inspiration had hit me. I ran them over and over in my mind, making sure they fit. Comparing them against others. Then I looked up at Everett, his eyes misty as he hovered over us and touched his baby girl’s hand.
“Do you want to hold her again?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said.
I took a deep breath. “Alright, baby Clara, go hang out with your daddy.”
“Clara?” he asked. It was a name he suggested weeks ago and had rattled around in the deep recesses of my mind ever since. I nodded and tears welled up in his eyes, one falling down his cheek.
“Clara and Charles,” I said.
“Clara and Charles,” he repeated. “Our family.”
The End