The paramedics left and we were left alone. I sat down on the couch and put my head in my hands. I tried not to cry, so I wouldn’t scare the kids.
“What’s wrong with Momma?” Matthew asked.
“Momma’s sick, honey. It’s okay.” I said. I pulled him towards me and hugged him. Samantha wrapped her arms around us and I pulled Kendra in and hugged her with my other arm. I needed to call Spencer.
“Hello?” said his mother.
“Spencer there?” I asked, trying not to sound scared.
“One minute.”
“Hello?” said Spencer’s soft, calming voice.
“Spence, can you come over?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“What’s wrong? I have the kids, my mom has to go to work. Can I bring them?”
“Yes, please, just come.” I said, putting the down on the receiver. I covered my mouth and let out a sob. I didn’t know what was going to happen to me, or the kids. We would most likely be sent out to my aunt in Florida, miles from my home here in Indiana. I started panicking, afraid I’d never see any of my friends again.
Ten minutes later, Spencer knocked on the door. Sam opened the door and took the kids into the playroom. Once they were gone, I collapsed into Spence’s arms and cried.
“What’s going on?” he asked, pushing me up to a sitting position. I was still crying, blubbering, barely able to speak.
“My mom.” I cried.
“What about her?”
“She… she cut her wrists and I found her bleeding on the floor this morning. Oh my God, Spencer, she could be dying.” I sobbed and collapsed into his arms again. For a long while, neither of us said anything. Then he got up and picked up the phone.
“Hello? Can I please find out how Karen Redding is?” Spencer asked. He nodded, and then hung up.
“I can’t find out anything because I’m not family. They said they were calling the family soon.” We anxiously waited for the phone to ring. Almost a half and hour later, the phone rang.
“Miss Redding?” the doctor said.
“This is her.” I said, and bit my lip. The butterflies in my stomach suddenly went double time.
“We understand your mother was bought into the hospital this morning.” He said. I wished he would just cut to the chase and tell me what was going on.
“I have some news. We delivered the babies, a boy and a girl. Unfortunately, I regret to inform you, we couldn’t save your mother.” He said quietly. “How old are you, Miss?” he asked. I knew this meant if I was 18, I would take the children.
“Eighteen.” I replied, not even thinking. It hadn’t sunk in that my mother was dead.
“You are old enough to be a legal guardian of these children, if you chose. You can come down to the hospital to bring them home tomorrow afternoon, and then we will have the papers that you must sign.” He said. I hung up the phone.