Epilogue #2
“I’m hungry for some peaches.” My pinky finger makes contact with her crotch, and I slide my hand back and forth, enjoying the way her breath stutters.
Suddenly her eyes widen, and she lets out a scream. My head snaps in time to see a large deer dashing across the road.
Dove jerks the wheel to the side, and I press my palms against the door and the ceiling of the vehicle, shouting “Look out!”
She does her best, but the Rover still skids off the road, landing with a hard thud in a deep ditch on the shoulder.
“Deeer!” she yells, putting trembling hands on her face. “Why do they do that?”
Her breath shudders, and I can’t tell if she’s crying or not. I’m a little rattled from hitting the side of the door, and she turns to me quickly.
“Maverick? Are you okay? Dammit!” Her phone is out, and she’s dialing 9-1-1.
“I’m good!” I try to take the phone from her, but she pulls away, sliding out of the vehicle as she talks to the dispatcher.
In less than twenty minutes, we’re sitting in a curtained-off area of the tiny emergency department at the small hospital in town. The nurses took Dove away briefly before she came back laughing and chatting with them to where I sit on the table in front of a doctor.
“Your husband’s pupils aren’t dilated, he’s not showing any signs of nausea or dizziness.” The guy flicks his pen light in my face again, causing me to wince. “Reflexes are all good.”
“Thank you, Raj.” Dove stretches out her hand, squeezing his arm. “My husband had such a terrible injury in March, and he was in a rough game just a few weeks ago…”
It’s the first time she’s called me her husband, and pride swells in my chest. It sounds even better than I expected.
“I saw that.” The young doctor smiles. “Congratulations on winning the Cup. I’m pretty sure my entire family woke up the neighbors yelling.”
I drop my chin, exhaling a laugh. “Thanks. My wife can be a bit overprotective.”
My wife. I love calling her that.
“With good reason.” Dove slides her hand into the crook of my arm, pulling me close and gazing up at me. “We woke up all of downtown. Everyone in Lagniappe was so excited.”
“I have those results, Dr. Patel.” The nurse hands him an iPad, and his dark brow furrows. “Results?”
He looks down at the screen, scanning it quickly as he speaks. “I’m sorry, Dove, it looks like there was some mistake. My assistant gave you a…” His voice trails off, and his brown eyes blink up to us. “I’m happy to say your baby wasn’t harmed in the accident. Vitals all look good.”
The only sound is the beeping of a heart monitor somewhere in this small area. My lips part, and I can’t find words. Turning, I meet Dove’s wide eyes, and she blinks at me as startled as I am.
Then in a rush, all the sound returns.
“Are you saying…” I ask at the same time as Dove is saying, “Our baby?”
Dr. Patel’s brow furrows, and he gives us a tentative smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, looks like I get to be the first to congratulate you.”
I’m off the table, sweeping Dove into my arms before he even finishes speaking.
Her hands are on my cheeks, and she shakes her head, tears filling her eyes. “A baby? Maverick, is that okay?”
Reaching behind her head, I pull her in for a kiss, opening her mouth, and stroking her tongue with mine. I vaguely register Dr. Patel and the rest of the staff leaving the space and pulling the curtains closed to give us privacy.
“I couldn’t be happier.” I hold her eyes with mine, turning to sit her on the bed. “Are you happy?”
“I think I’m in shock,” Dove says, her cheeks flushed as she starts to laugh. “We’re having a baby?”
Sitting beside her, I put my hand on her tiny midsection. “Sounds like it.”
She reaches up to put her hand on my cheek, and our mouths find each other’s again for a longer kiss. I lift my chin and press my lips to her forehead, then I hold her close.
“All those years, I thought nothing would make me happier than simply having you in my arms.” My voice is husky. “I was wrong.”
Dove reaches up to me. “It’s like the sun after a storm.”
Once more, I lean down to seal my lips to hers. She’s right. It’s a new start, a new beginning. Hope for the future, and another branch in the tree that is our family.
We’re not defeated. The tornado didn’t win. It only made us take deeper roots, and with love and a lot of work, we’ll keep those roots strong.
Six months later…
“I’ve never been in a VIP box at the Superdome.” Dove stands at the window watching as black and gold confetti rains down on the stadium below.
Knox just led the Saints to a 14-0 victory over Dallas, and I have to confess, I’m glad his older brother wasn’t here to see it.
They announced at the end of last season Austin was retiring from the team. He went off the grid a bit to prepare for what we know is coming. He’s returning to Newhope to take over as head coach at the high school for Uncle Jack.
But before he leaves, he’s working to get full custody of his daughter. It’s something we all know he’s wanted for a long time.
Dove walks over to me, sliding her hand into the crook of my arm.
We’ve been working solid since June, bringing in crews to help Leon establish more berms, bringing in local horticulturists to help graft the MP-29 rootstock with the existing trees to potentially create a more resistant species that can block the spread.
It’s a long, complicated fight to get the peach orchard back, but we’re funded and ready to take it all the way.
Hope is growing strong and healthy outside and in. Dove is optimistic and glowing as I spread my hands over her cute little pregnant belly, our baby girl, and I’ve never been more proud.
“Hey,” Knox bursts into the box with his entourage close behind. “It always takes too long to get off the field. How did you like the game? Dove… Looking good, little mama!”
He’s a sweaty mess, and I exhale a laugh. “Bruh, we’re meeting for dinner. Get down there and get cleaned up.”
“I’ll get down there.” He holds out a hand, laughing. “I just wanted to be sure my guests were all taken care of.”
“We’re fine. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Dude, language.” Knox points at me, backing out the door to return to the locker rooms. “You’re going to have to start a swear jar.”
We’re all set to follow him down, when I notice a woman in what looks like some kind of old-school flight attendant’s uniform. Her expression is severe, and she’s holding a bundle of what appears to be blankets.
A man is at her side. His face is stern, and he seems exasperated to be here.
“Knox Bradford?” He practically shouts my cousin’s name.
Knox is still joking around, but he stops, turning to face the man. “That’s me?”
“Mr. Bradford, on behalf of the estate of Jules Allen, I’m here to present you with your daughter.” The man slaps a folded piece of paper against my cousin’s arm, and silence falls on the group.
The nurse or social worker or whatever she is steps forward, shoving the bundle of what I now realize is more than blankets into my sweaty cousin’s arms.
“The what is who?” Knox’s blue eyes widen, and he looks at the bundle he’s now holding.
My brow tightens, and I look from him to Dove, who is now clutching my bicep in both her hands.
“I am officially presenting you, her legal guardian, with her birth certificate and all necessary legal documents. Congratulations.”
The man in the ill-fitted suit and the woman who could be a nun for all I know make a hasty retreat to the top of the stairs leading to the exit.
“Her what?” Knox’s voice is loud and he looks from the people running away to the people standing in front of him. “What just happened? I don’t know who this is.”
I go to his side slowly, and Dove takes his other side. We pull the blanket away to see a little girl who looks closer to two. A chubby arm and leg stick out as she struggles to sit up, and when she blinks at us, there’s no denying she has the Bradford blue eyes.
She struggles more, until Knox adjusts her to sitting on his arm. Soft, dark curls are around her ears, and when she smiles, she has little teeth.
“Oh my goodness!” Dove exhales a happy coo.
Knox looks like he’s swallowed a goldfish, and then the baby girl pats her hand against his arm.
“Ba-ba!” she coos, and my cousin’s eyes meet mine.
“Maverick…”
I try to be encouraging, but I’m not sure what to do. “Don’t worry. Your mom loves babies… We all do.”
But he only says what we’re all thinking. “What the fuck?”
Thank you for reading Flow!