Chapter 41 Karl
FORTY-ONE
KARL
Six Years Later
“What’s up, kiddo?” I ask Sophie when she runs and jumps onto the fence beside me, Nancy close behind carrying her My Little Pony backpack and riding helmet.
“How old do I have to be to get married?” she asks, bouncing on the lowest rail, unable to stay still for even a second.
I peer back at Nancy, who is clearly trying not to laugh.
“Um…” I study my wife, hoping she has an answer, but she only offers me a lopsided smile paired with a shrug. “Forty,” I stutter.
Sophie sighs dreamily. “When I’m forty, I’m going to marry Foster because I like his face.”
“Oh yeah?” I laugh. She’s six, but she says it with such conviction I can’t bring myself to be logical with her. At this moment, she believes she’s going to marry her best friend’s brother, and since he’s a nice kid, I’m going to let her live in this little bubble until she decides boys are gross.
“Yep,” she confirms, continuing to bounce to a beat that’s all her own.
“Do you want to get married here?” I ask, leaning on the fence just as she hops off and immediately climbs back up to the third rail, repeating the process. It’s exhausting watching her, even though I’m sure I had that kind of energy at one time.
She looks around, scrutinizing the muddy cow pasture, and then finally looks down the laneway, a tiny hand held aloft, pointing. “There,” she chirps.
“The cottage?”
“Yep,” she confirms, jumping off the fence and running toward the home she spent the first four years of her life in.
Nancy walks up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist as the evening sunlight catches in our daughter’s hair. Golden, like her mother’s.
“She didn’t stop talking about Foster the entire way home,” Nancy murmurs, her smile obvious in her voice.
“Well, she’s a Hore, dearest. When we know, we know.”
Nancy bursts out laughing. “Last week she told me she was going to marry Jack. I’m not sure how set on marrying Foster she is. But I could think of worse kids at school she could have her sights on.”
I turn in her arms, pulling her harder into me, the same sparks traveling through my body as the very first time I did this. “All I want for her is to be a six-year-old right now. Let that little imagination imagine.”
Nancy’s shoulders bounce, giving her near-silent laugh away. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words, Mr. Hore?”
“Mmm,” I hum. “A pretty little blonde once did.”
“Oh yeah? And what happened to that pretty little blonde?”
“I married her,” I drawl, tipping her chin up and claiming her lips until the sound of our daughter yelling “ew” has us laughing more than kissing.
Nancy rests her head against my chest and looks over at Sophie as she hops around with Jack. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about for a while.”
“Years and years,” I promise.