Epilogue – The summer of ’96
Epilogue
LOUISA
THE SUMMER OF ’96
T hree out of four little boys asleep in their beds, I slide in beside my husband ever so slowly, like even the slightest move I make could disturb our youngest.
I just got him down.
I doubt he’s asleep.
He’s fussy.
Ain’t that the understatement of the year.
Reed James Rawlins may be the last addition to our family, but he is the loudest. Every night of the past month has been the same.
Bedtime for the boys.
Washing up and sliding into my bed, exhausted, next to an equally as exhausted Harry.
Then we wait, in the darkness.
A cry pierces the warm summer air.
There he goes...
“Give him a minute, he’ll right himself.” Harry’s weary rumble presses into my hair as he rolls over and drapes an arm over me. He’s the king of wishful thinkin’, my husband. The knot cinching in my chest with my youngest’s cries pulls tighter every time.
His wail ebbs a little, only to split the air with new ferocity a moment later.
I sigh and turn my head to the side, planting a kiss to Harry’s lips. God, I love this man.
So damn much.
When the cry ratchets up another ear-piercing level, I mutter my “I love you” to Harry’s cheek and slip out of the soft bed.
I pull on my robe, its light cotton swaying mid-thigh as I trudge to the now well-worn path to Reed’s room.
He is sitting up in his crib, his howl so much louder in his space. “Hey, little man. You’re okay, my boy.” I sweep him out of his crib and settle into the old rocking chair by the window.
The moon is high in the sky, lighting up this side of the house. I pop a button on my nightie, and he latches on to my nipple. He bites down hard, and I wince. But the soft, downy blond hair and those big green eyes lookin’ right through me as he takes his fill... I can’t find it in myself to feel anything but exhausted contentment.
Rosie was right. A mother will do anything for her child.
With my four babies tucked in safe and sound, and a man who loves his family more than anything, I can’t even begin to imagine the loss she felt, having to raise her son without what I have.
What she’s given Harry and me.
I lay my head back on the hardwood back of the rocking chair. My eyes drift shut as Reed suckles and fusses.
He pulls away, milk dribbling down his chin, and I fix my nightshirt before rising to my feet. Holding him, I pace the hallway, trying my best to get him to settle. Even after the feed, he whines softly.
So, I pace.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
After I have lost count of the times the hallway has been traveled, my hand rubbing his small back, I look up to find Harry leaning in our doorway, boxers and a bare chest, his hair is ruffled to a mess, crooked smile and deep blue gaze fixed on his wife and son.
He’s a sight for sore eyes, alright.
“Let me, Lou.”
He pads to where I pace, taking Reed from my arms. Before he takes up the movement, he hovers, forehead pressing to my temple. “How can I ever repay you, darlin’?”
“What for, my love?”
“Givin’ me this big, beautiful life. These four boys...”
“You don’t owe me a thing,” I whisper.
It’s true. Where would I be without this man?
A captain is nothing without her ship.
He loses a small groan, as if being this close has him all worked up despite the fidgeting baby boy between us.
“When you figure it out, Louisa May, you let me know.”
Dotting kisses to my cheek, he peels away, taking Reed on their first lap of the hallway, the small blond head poking over his shoulder. He leans his head to Reed’s. His dark hair a stark contrast, even in this dim light. Father to son.
Imagine the things our boy will learn from this great man.
The milestones we will all travel together.
I decide, right in that moment, I want to make sure each one is marked somehow. A way to make sure our family takes stock every year. So nothing is overlooked, nothing is forgotten. And our bonds stay strong. Something only for us, not skewed by any other celebration.
Harry turns back and wanders toward me with a rhythmic sway in his step, quietly humming, I know what I want.
“I want a party, every year, for my birthday.”
Harry raises an eyebrow. “That all? Isn’t that a given?”
I breathe a small laugh. “I want everyone there. Every last person who is special to our family. Every year, to mark the milestones we have traveled. That’s what I want.”
“Then it shall be done.” He winks at me and waves me away. “Back to bed, Louisa May. Us men need a moment.”
With a soft laugh, I kiss his cheek as he passes by, making a U-turn back down the hall. The low rumble of his melody makes my heart swell.
“Lou?” he rasps, and I turn with a hand on our bedroom doorframe.
“Get some sleep, woman. I’m sure this lot will be mutinous in the mornin’.”
I shake my head at him as he pretends to walk peg legged, one arm holding Reed tight.
“Let’s hope so.”
The smile blooming over my face is one part joy, one part adoration. And absolutely one hundred percent grateful this man waited.
Because lord above... he didn’t have to.