Epilogue #2
“Thanks,” I tell them as I swipe up the empty cake platter and set it in the sink. “But you guys don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind,” Dylan says, drying his hands on a dish towel, then tossing it aside.
“Me neither,” Finn adds. He’s got a soft cotton sling wrapped around his massive torso, his sleeping newborn daughter tucked tightly against his chest. “And we were filling time waiting for you to come in.”
“Why’s that?”
Finn grins. “We’ve got a surprise for Ollie, and we didn’t want you to miss it.”
I look around for Daisy and Ollie. My nephew’s sitting on the floor of the living room, surrounded by stacks of gifts and torn-up wrapping paper.
Izzy’s right beside him, helping sort the toys and books into stacks.
Charlie, Violet, Rosie, and Poppy are gathered round to watch, oohing and aahing at all the right moments.
“Where’s Daisy?” I wonder. “And Chord?”
Dylan pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the screen. “They’ll be here in two minutes.”
I quirk a suspicious eyebrow. “Daisy’s in on this surprise?”
Dylan’s grin is wide beneath the twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, yeah. So come on. Let’s head out back to see it.”
I’m trying to keep my curiosity under control as Finn nods to the girls in the next room.
At his signal, they start moving, pulling the kids to their feet and ushering them through the kitchen.
There’s a buzzy anticipation in the air, coy smiles floating on high energy.
Izzy twirls and leaps out onto the back porch, and I deduce that everyone’s in on the surprise except me and Ollie.
“What’s going on?” Ollie asks, taking my hand as we’re swept out of the house.
“I don’t know, buddy,” I admit. “But we’re about to find out.”
We pile onto the porch, which isn’t far enough, apparently, because the wave of Davenports deposits us farther out on the lawn.
I scan the yard over everyone’s heads, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary that I can see, unless you count the remnants of today’s party.
Balloons and streamers strung up on every tree.
A handful of rogue paper plates we missed on the first round of cleanup.
Lines worn into the lawn where little feet ran around the parkour course and played every party game I could think of.
“Did you have a good day?” I ask Ollie.
“I had the best day!” he says. “Thank you.”
I squeeze his little hand. I might have never had a birthday party at his age, or any age, and maybe today was as much for me as it was for him, but all I wanted at the end of it was to see that smile on his face.
“You’re welcome,” I reply, then look around the yard again. “Now, what is your Aunt Daisy up to?”
At that moment, she rounds the house with Chord beside her. There’s a lead rope in her hand, and Pony Noir is on the other end of it. My heart lurches at the sight of him. This can’t be what I think it is…
Violet watches me and Ollie with tears in her eyes, which is a dead giveaway that this is, in fact, exactly what it looks like.
The black gelding gleams, his coat freshly brushed and his hooves buffed. His mane and tail are trimmed and combed, and his tack is brand new.
Ollie looks up at me uncertainly. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure,” I say, not wanting to assume anything but knowing it’s well within reason to believe the Davenports are about to do something incredibly generous for my nephew today.
A gentle hand nudges us forward, and I tug Ollie toward Daisy and Chord. The hockey player’s mouth is doing that twitchy smile thing, and Daisy’s beaming like a ray of light.
“So, Ollie,” Chord says, crouching down to meet the boy’s eyes. “Your aunts and uncles wanted to give you something special for your birthday, and we talked a lot about it, trying to decide on the perfect present. In the end, there was only one gift we could agree on.”
Ollie’s eyes grow wide, and I can see his hope rise. It’s also very plain how vulnerable that sensation makes him feel.
“What is it?” he whispers.
Chord glances at Daisy, then at me, as he rises. I try to catch Daisy’s attention, silently asking her for answers, and she only grins harder.
“Ollie?” she says.
“Yes, Aunt Daisy?”
“We know how much you love Pony Noir, and he loves you too. You’re his best friend, and I’ve seen how dedicated you are to taking good care of him. So if it’s okay with Uncle Beau, we’d like to give you Pony Noir for your very own. What do you say?”
Ollie makes a sound, a whimper deep in his throat, and his fingers tighten around my hand. He looks up at me, tears in his eyes. “Can I have him? Please?”
I blink back the emotion welling up in my chest. “Yes,” I say, voice cracking. “Of course you can.”
It’s too much for the little guy, and he bursts into sobs, throwing his arms around my legs as I pat his back and grimace apologetically at the family. “Big day,” I say by way of explanation.
“Well, it’s about to get a little bigger,” Rosie says, smiling softly.
She’s cradling little Aria in her arms now, and I look around for her husband.
“Why? Where’s Finn?”
Rosie’s smile widens, and she tips her head toward something past my shoulder. “Right there.”
I spin just as Daisy’s brother leads an unfamiliar quarter horse into the yard. The new gelding is sturdy and tall at around sixteen hands at the withers, with a sooty buckskin coat and powerful hindquarters.
I love him at first sight.
Daisy hands Chord the lead rope for Pony Noir, then takes the horse from Finn and moves closer to me. Her eyes are glassy now, though joy shines through her tears.
“And this guy is for you,” she tells me. “If you’ll have him.”
“I—” I need to stop to clear my throat, and I do it with a glance around.
Dylan stands with Poppy hard against his side and Izzy on his hip.
Rosie rocks the baby, and Finn takes his place beside them.
Violet and Charlie stand shoulder to shoulder.
Chord with Pony Noir. Ollie, who’s peeled himself from my leg and gone to his horse, stroking his long nose with a practiced hand and watching the new gelding with his mouth in a little O.
And Daisy, offering me the lead rope, her cheeks red and eyes bright, like giving me a horse—the first I’ll ever get to call my own—could possibly give her more joy than it gives me.
“I don’t know what to say,” I admit.
“Say yes,” she says.
I swallow thickly and accept the rope. “Yes,” I say quietly. “And thank you.”
Daisy throws her arms around my neck. “You’re welcome.”
I nuzzle into her hair, breathing her in and feeling so much gratitude, then step back and look around. “Thank you, everyone. This is unbelievably generous, and you really didn’t have to—”