Lymber craft's Arc

Chapter 44 of 70

They picked the kids up from the neighbor's and drove to Polly's. Lymber held the ultrasound photo flat on her lap so it wouldn't bend. Violetta sat in her car seat in a pink polka-dot dress, humming to herself. Jett slept. Paul kept both hands on the wheel. Lymber said, She's going to be angry at both of us. Paul said, She's angry at me already. Lymber said, No. She's angry at me. He didn't argue. Polly opened the door before they knocked. She looked at Paul first, then at Lymber, then at the kids. She said, Come in. Sit. She took Jett out of Paul's arms without asking and set him on the couch with a pillow behind him. Violetta ran to the kitchen for the cookie jar Polly kept full. Lymber sat at the table and put the photo down between them. Two shapes. Polly picked it up and held it close to her face. Polly said, Twins. Lymber said, Ten weeks and two days. Polly set the photo down and looked at Paul. She said, You knew before me. Paul said, We came straight from the clinic. Polly said, That's not what I asked. Paul said, Yes. I knew before you. Polly nodded once. She said, Okay. That's the last time. Lymber said, Mom. I need help. Not with the story. With them. She pointed at Violetta at the counter and Jett on the couch. She said, Two babies. And these two. I can't do it in that house alone during the day. Paul works. Polly folded her arms. She said, You have a house with five bedrooms and a puppy and a husband. Lymber said, I know. I still need you. Polly looked at the photo again. She looked at Paul. She said, Mornings. Same as before. Not nights. I sleep in my own bed. Paul said, Thank you. Polly said, Don't thank me yet. I haven't done anything. Violetta climbed into Lymber's lap with a cookie in each hand. She held one up to the photo on the table and said, Baby. Lymber said, Two babies. Violetta studied the picture, then pressed a cookie against Lymber's stomach. Polly watched and didn't smile, but her shoulders dropped an inch. She said, She'll figure it out faster than you did. Lymber said, She figures out everything faster than I do. On the drive home Paul said, She said yes. Lymber said, She said mornings. That's yes. She slid the ultrasound photo into the visor above her seat. Violetta was asleep in the back with cookie crumbs on her dress. Lymber counted in her head again. Thirty weeks. Two mornings a week gone from her mother's schedule. One house that would need to hold four children by summer. She let her hand rest on her stomach and watched the road.