Epilogue
Another one bites the dust...
In Springtime, Zachary and Britta Floyd had a baby girl. Her name was Angelique...or Angel for short.
When Zach asked why that name, she just smiled. She still had too many secrets for a married woman, Zach told her. And, again, Britta just smiled.
At the christening, all of Zach’s SEAL buddies...Cage, Max, Sly, JAM, Geek, Omar and Slick...claimed the rights of godfather, but that honor was given to Danny, the proud uncle. The christening was held in off-hours at the Wet and Wild, of all places.
Sammy was ecstatic, both over Britta being his mother and because of his new baby sister. Right now, he was teaching one of Madrene’s kids how to belch on cue.
Arsallah was dead these past three months, having fallen to the greed of his own followers. Which was always the case with men of power, whether they were politicians, presidents or religious zealots.
Zach’s grandmother practically had a stroke over the choice of reception places, but with true class, she managed to hide her distress and provided foie gras, caviar on toast points, little cucumber and paté sandwiches, and strawberries in clotted cream.
Zach’s father provided the beer. A great combination, everyone agreed.
Zach’s mother got something going at the reception with the owner of the Wet and Wild, who happened to have seen her photo spread in the latest AARP Magazine. Zach’s father was hitting on Bawdy Maudy.
Later, when Hilda was cooing over Angel with Madrene leaning over her shoulder, Zach realized that Britta was missing. He found her in a back corridor.
“What is it, sweetie?” Zach asked.
“I am just so happy. I fear my happiness will make the gods jealous and take me back.”
“No one is ever taking you back,” Zach assured her.
“How do you know?”
“I just do. There are some things you know right here.” He patted his heart, then took her hand and led her over to the door. “Look there,” he said, pointing through the door window to the back of the parking lot where his red Firebird was parked. Then he waggled his eyebrows at her.
Britta’s jaw dropped. “You would not dare...not in the light of day.”
“Britta, Britta, Britta,” Zach chided. “Never dare a Navy SEAL.”
But she did.
And he did.
And six months later, they were living happily ever after, or as happy as a thousand year-old Viking warrior maiden with a big belly and a too-pretty, virile SEAL could on a cattle ranch in Montana.
Hoo-yah! Or was that Yee-hah?