When Lindsay got back from school, Sara was unconscious on the sofa (Catherine couldn't carry her upstairs) and Catherine was sat by her head, cradling a cup of coffee and singing under her breath, presumably to calm Sara down.
"Mom?" She whispered, careful not to wake Sara up.
Catherine put her finger on her lips and pointe to the kitchen, indicating '1' with her finger. She'd meet her in the kitchen in a minute.
"Sorry Sara, I'll be back soon." Catherine stroked her hand through Sara's hair, stood up and stretched. She had no idea how long she'd been sat there but the coffee she'd been cradling was icy cold and had a skin.
He went into the kitchen, shut the door behind her as quietly as possible and dumped the coffee down the sink. Rinsing the cup, she set about making a new pot. Lindsey came in through the other door.
"I take it the appointment didn't go well?" She asked, gently, putting a comforting hand on her mother's shoulder.
Every so often, since Eddie died, I swear she carries the world on her shoulders.
Catherine didn't turn around; she didn't want to be telling her daughter this, a 11 year old no less. But on the other hand, who else did she have? Who else would listen? In a few day Sara would be out of the paid leave she'd amassed, and then work would know. But for now, there was only Lindsay.
"The appointment was great. Sara got into a fight, an argument. She made herself ill, but the nurse said she'll be fine. She's better off waking up somewhere she's comfortable. The nurse assured me the babies will be fine, though, so don't worry."
There was a moment's silence. Catherine listened to her daughter's calm breathing.
"Babies?" Said Lindsay, quietly.
Catherine nodded. "Twins."
There was a loud groan from the living room.
"Cath?" Sara asked tentatively.
"We're in here" Lindsay was the one to reply.
A feeling of relief had flown through Catherine like waves. She was happy now that Sara was safe.