Epilogue #2
Reminding her of the sore subject when she’s six months pregnant is ill-advised, so I settle for, “You’re the boss.”
She flashes me a cocky smile.
I return it.
Madoc, Marlon, and Maxson are our four-year-old triplets.
They look just like Carina’s side. They even have the blue eyes to match.
Emmylou is the little dark-haired princess with the big green eyes, matching her daddy’s.
She’s three years old, cute as a button, and she wants to run the world.
She arrived eleven months after the triplets.
Within a year, we had triplets with an Irish-twin sibling.
My desire for Carina hasn’t faded over the years. If anything, it keeps growing.
After the obligatory post-birth wait time once our triplets were born, I was dying to get inside her again. We were careful. The one time I forgot to wear a condom, she got pregnant.
Neither of us regret it, though. Emmylou is a gift.
More kids. More blessings.
My wife picked Emmylou’s name. She said it was in memory of my adoptive parents.
That nearly broke me.
Ma lost her beloved husband too soon and still found room in her heart for a stray kid like me. She loved me fiercely until her last breath.
“I’ll take it upon myself to make sure our little clan takes a nap after lunch,” I say. “That includes Ziggy and Stark.”
We have a bunch of one hundred percent Heinz 57s from the shelter, running around the property, but yesterday, we got a pair of Border Collie puppies. One of Hunter and Jake’s dogs had a litter a month ago.
“Rhett, those puppies fall asleep at the drop of a hat. You know perfectly well the kids would negotiate with the devil if it meant they could skip out on their naps.”
“No naps, Mommy,” Maxson says. “We want to play with Daddy and the puppies all day.” He turns to look at his siblings.
Madoc and Marlon nod their little heads like bobblehead dolls.
Emmylou lifts her little hands in the air. “Play all day.”
Carina arches an accusatory eyebrow at me.
Shit. Time for damage control.
“Now, Maxson, we’ve talked about this, son,” I say. “You don’t speak on behalf of your brothers and your sister. And if Mommy or Daddy decide it’s time for you to take a nap, that’s exactly what you’ll do. Is that clear?”
Maxson hangs his head low. “‘Kay,” he says, his blue eyes peering up at me from under his long lashes.
You’d think the troubles of the world weighed heavy on his little shoulders.
I stifle a laugh.
Nonna Ambrosia steps outside. “Lunch is ready. Andiamo a mangiare, bambini.”
“Come on inside, kids.” Grandpa Victor’s voice booms. “Let’s wash those tiny hands so we can eat. Bisnonna prepared homemade ravioli.”
I thank God every day my kids are blessed enough to know their great-grandparents.
The boys wave their little hands in the air.
“Mangia, mangia, mangia.” Emmylou skips back to the house, Ziggy and Stark in tow.
Since there are a lot of Callahans in New York to help Carina’s brothers with their growing families, both sets of grandparents and her parents rotate their time down here to give us a hand.
My wife’s mom and dad stayed with us for four months after she gave birth to the triplets. My in-laws’ firsthand experience was a lifesaver.
When our daughter was born, both sets of Carina’s grandparents descended at the same time for the rescue. Three babies and a newborn are an unmanageable situation for dog-tired, weary, and unseasoned parents.
My daughter stops at the threshold of the farmhouse and turns around. “Daddy.”
“Yes, baby girl?”
“Water Emmylou vroom?”
I chuckle.
My daughter is convinced we named Emmylou after her. Neither of us has the heart to contradict her.
I place both hands on my hips, my eyes landing on my beloved truck.
“We’ll take care of it later.”
“‘Kay.” She disappears into the house.
Pa’s truck had a good run, but four years ago, she just stopped as I was driving Carina to the hospital after her waters broke.
The timing was unsettling and scary as hell.
Grandpa Warren, my cousins, Jake, and Hunter came to the rescue.
I swear, I thought my boys were going to be born on the side of a road.
Even though Emmylou gave up on me at the worst possible time, I couldn’t give her up. Sinking more money into repairs didn’t make sense anymore. These days, the truck Ma gave me sits right next to Dawson’s on our property.
Three years ago, I was able to buy his old vintage truck at an auction from a fan of his with deep pockets who had snatched it right from under my nose not long after his death.
I dismantled the doors on both vehicles because we have three troublemakers. They now serve as a reminder of people I loved and lost. We decorate them to fit the season. Carina came up with the idea of using them as cool gardens. The kids love to help her pick the perfect blooms.
I walk up to my radiating wife and snake an arm around her waist, bringing her body close to mine before rubbing her belly.
“Come on, let’s go feed the twins.” Before she bestows upon me a tongue lashing, I lean in closer so my lips ghost her earlobe. “Once we put the kids down for a nap. We should also take a nap…” I pull away and cock a suggestive eyebrow.
“A nap?” She scoffs. “I’m familiar with your definition of napping. That’s what got me in this predicament.” Her eyes lower to my hand, cupping her belly. “Ditto for the brood of tiny people inside the farmhouse.”
“No chance of you getting pregnant now,” I say. “Might as well take advantage of it.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re lucky I love you.”
She didn’t turn me down.
I flash her a warm smile. “I love you too, wife. And you’re right. I am lucky. Very lucky, darlin’.”
On this patch of land with a spectacular view of the big Texas sky, I’ve built my oasis.
My wife.
My kids.
My family.
My circle of friends.
My cherished memories.
I have it all. Right here.
And the blessings keep coming…