Epilogue
Fact or Fiction?
Compound living is peak mountain life.
Luke
A Couple Years Later
I stand on the mountain staring at the beautiful image in front of me. It’s summertime on the peak and my wife is sitting
on my father’s memorial bench, which is now nestled under the pergola Calder made. There are purple flowers vining up the
boards that my mom planted last summer and they’re in full bloom right now. Just like my wife.
She sits there a lot these days, talking to her brother. I surprised Addison on her brother’s birthday last year by adding
a memorial plaque to the pergola that says:
Fact or Fiction: Little brothers make the best guardian angels.
And well, there were definite tears.
We put Aaron’s name on it along with his birth and death date, and while I know my wife still goes to the cemetery for her
runs, these past few weeks, the bench has been a better place for her.
I make my way over to join her at the bench, glancing down the hill at the goings-on.
Fletcher Mountain is bustling with life this Saturday summer afternoon.
Wyatt and Trista are down by the barn with Stevie prancing around in her little cowboy boots that match her mother’s.
Calder’s saw can be heard echoing down the canyon as he works on furniture in his shop, and Dakota appears to be reading a book on their front porch with their new cat curled up on her lap.
They just got back from their honeymoon and their cats missed them something fierce.
I know because we had to take care of them while they were gone.
Down the mountain a ways Trista has a couple of employees busy at her new rescue center that creates more traffic than this
mountain has ever seen. We’re working on developing another drive to give it its own entrance. Opening her rescue center to
visitors creates more opportunity for donations. So while a few years ago, Fletcher Mountain was a sleepy little peak consisting
of a few bachelors who caused ruckus in town every once in a while, it’s now a fully functioning, sustainable compound.
Hell, even Max’s new house is in the process of going up. We forced him to scale it back to half its original size because
Wyatt refused to let his brother build something obnoxious up here, but it’s coming along. Even includes a mother-in-law suite
for our mom that we’re all excited about. Her and Max and his family up here will make Fletcher Mountain feel fully complete.
No more new construction projects.
Unless my wife decides we need to add on more space for our very near future.
I smile when I see the side view of her and make my way over to the bench to sit next to her. I can’t help but stretch my
hand out and rest it on her belly.
“Doing okay, babe?” I ask as I rake my eyes over her face.
She clutches my hand to her round bump that’s the size of a basketball. “He’s kicking like crazy in there, which is wild because
there’s not much room left so I don’t know how he’s moving at all.”
I press my lips to her shoulder and murmur, “Any day now.”
“I’m ready,” she sighs and glances down at her swollen stomach. “I’m going to be the best mom.”
“I know you are,” I reply automatically.
She says this a lot lately. I think that fear of turning out like her parents is still alive and well. Which is why she’s
already trained Chuck at the yard to take over so she can have a full three months of maternity leave. And she lined my mom
up to take the baby when she goes back to work part time. She’s signed up for mommy and me classes already and our coffee
table is covered with pregnancy and parenting books. She’s dedicated to being the best working mom that ever existed, and
I hate that she’s putting so much pressure on herself because she has no idea how much love she gives just by existing.
But if this is what she needs to feel good in this decision we made to have a child, then I’m going to support her no matter
what.
We miscarried our first baby at eight weeks, and I thought she’d never want to try again. I held her and we grieved, and our
home was flooded with my family, who supported us through every painful day in their own unique ways.
But it wasn’t until my mom told Addison that our baby was with Aaron now that I felt like my wife found some sense of hope
to try again.
Now here we are. Thirty-eight weeks and holding our breath that this is it. I have a good feeling.
“Incoming!” Trista yells from down at the barn and I turn around to see Stevie barreling toward us with a big smile on her
face.
“I got her,” I call back and watch my three-year-old niece run like the perfect girl she is all the way over to us.
She pants loudly as she moves around the bench to crawl up next to Addison. Her hands instantly wrap around Roe’s belly, and she lays her ear on top of the bump and gasps. “I hear him!”
“You do?” Addison laughs and runs her fingers through Stevie’s chestnut curls.
“He says he’s hungry.”
“Does he now?”
“He says he wants bread,” Stevie says, blinking her big eyes up at my wife.
Addison’s jaw drops. “He’s hungry again?”
Stevie nods with vigor, so I hold my hand out to help my wife up off the bench. I’m afraid our niece has learned the deliciousness
that is Addison’s bread and uses her incoming cousin as an excuse to get snacks. Often.
I watch in awe as my wife waddles back to our cabin with one hand on her lower back and the other holding Stevie’s as she
skips beside her.
“Hey, fucker,” Calder says, dropping down on the bench beside me with a six-pack of beers. He hands one over to me before
opening one for himself.
I hear the sounds of footsteps and find Wyatt walking over to join us as well. I pass him a beer and hook my thumb back to
Addison. “Your daughter is pawning more snacks off of us.”
“Put it on my tab,” Wyatt harrumphs and takes a drink of his beer.
The three of us share a beer in silence for a moment, taking in the breathtaking view that never gets old. Rolling pine trees
stacked amongst the rugged cliffs. Long grass swaying in the breeze below them all bathed in the warm colors of an incoming
sunset twinkling above Jamestown.
“Remember when Calder stood right here and said, ‘No woman is better than this’?” I state with a laugh as I jab my elbow into
him.
Calder frowns. “I’m eating my words for sure, but I believe it was you who came up with the pact that we all live up here alone, so you’re no less foolish than me.”
Wyatt shakes his head and glances behind us. “I think Dad was looking out for us.”
“You can say that again,” Calder confirms with a nod.
“New pact?” I ask, quirking a brow them.
They stare at me curiously.
“Let’s vow to be just as good at life as Dad was.” My throat tightens as I look over at both of them. “Whether that’s in business,
in parenting, with our partners. We live our lives to keep making him proud and the rest will fall into place.”
Wyatt quirks a smile. “I’ll drink to that.”
Calder holds his beer up. “We’re not here for a long time . . .”
“We’re here for a good time,” I finish, and we clink our bottles together and drink for the man who taught us that life is
indeed a good time . . . even through the hard times.
* * * * *