Epilogue
Two Years later
I swallowed a groan as I watched a preteen tap-dance through a painfully awkward rendition of “My Heart Will Go On.”
Talk about a downer of a song choice.
It was the third Little Miss Blueberry Pageant I’d had to endure, and time wasn’t making it any less painful to watch. Next to me, Michael’s knee bounced, and I glanced at him.
“Relax, it’ll be fine.”
He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “I know, but this is her year. I can feel it. She deserves this.”
I smiled to myself. Michael was a good kid.
He was twenty-three now, and though we’d all hoped his dreams of the NFL would pan out, it wasn’t in the cards.
He had, however, become one of the best offensive graduate assistants I could ask for.
When he was not working with quarterbacks and receivers, he substitute taught at a local high school.
He had also become an extended part of the Sullivan family.
I slapped my hand on his shoulder, hoping to distract him. “Did you see the fancy footwork Joey pulled off on Sunday?”
Michael’s narrowed eyes sliced in my direction. “I taught him that move.”
An easy laugh erupted from my chest. After he’d graduated, Joey had been a second-round draft pick, and his career had shot off like a rocket. Same with Kevin. Both were integral players on their pro ball teams, and I felt nothing but sheer pride anytime I saw them play.
Of all my players, those three boys and the summer I’d spent keeping them out of trouble had bonded us for life. Lark still called them “our boys” despite the fact they towered over her and outweighed her by a hundred pounds.
I scanned the crowd for my wife and frowned.
The talent portion of Pickle’s pageant showcase was scheduled to begin, and I hadn’t seen Lark since she’d waddled off toward the Gyro Man’s food truck.
My chest ached when I caught a glimpse of her long brown hair lifting in the breeze.
Her smile was wide, and she held up the small white Styrofoam container like it was baby Simba on Pride Rock.
I shook my head and laughed. When she approached, I stood from the seat and pointed. “Sit down.”
She frowned at me and ran a gentle hand down her large pregnant belly. “Daddy’s so grouchy.”
Lark groaned softly as she maneuvered into the small chair beside Michael. She was weeks away from giving birth to our first child together, and though she liked to grumble about it, she loved how protective I had become of her.
Still a bit out of breath, Lark lifted her hair from her shoulders and sighed. “I just saw Pen. She’s ready.”
I moved to stand behind her, swooping her hair to the side and gently rubbing her tired shoulders. My eyes searched the edge of the stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of Pickle and discreetly throw her a thumbs-up or something.
When the music shifted from one performer’s modern interpretive ribbon dance to Metallica, I paused.
Lark’s shoulders bounced under my hands, as she could barely contain her giggles.
“What did you do?” I growled.
She snort-laughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Then she proceeded to stuff a mouthful of gyro into her face and smile up at me with chipmunk cheeks.
What a shit.
With the darkening sky, my beautiful, sweet nine-year-old confidently pranced up the stage, wearing a black leotard with fringe and rhinestone sparkles all over it. She was wearing heavy makeup I didn’t love and was holding a long black baton.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. On the beat drop, Penny lit the ends of the baton on actual fire , and I nearly had a stroke.
Michael shot to his feet, both fists in the air, and shouted, “Hell yeah!”
The crowd followed suit and was enamored with how graceful and lively she was as she twirled her flaming death stick and leaped across the stage.
Lark clapped and cheered while I was freaking the fuck out.
Finally, the song came to a close, and the entire crowd was on their feet and screaming for my little girl. Her smile was a mile wide, and she extinguished her baton with a sassy hand on her hip and a wink.
She’s grounded for a year.
I glared down at my beautiful wife, and she scrunched her nose at me and laughed. Michael cheered beside me.
“Did you know about this?” I asked him.
He laughed. “No way, but that was awesome !”
“Don’t worry.” Lark swatted the air between us. “Lee was right there the whole time with a fire extinguisher. It was the only way the stick-in-the-mud pageant director would allow it. If you ask me, the only issue was that the director knew his niece wouldn’t win anyway. Penny nailed it!”
I couldn’t deny the love and pride Lark held for Penny. They were inseparable, and despite the fact she was her stepmother, Penny loved her fiercely.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better ?” I rolled my eyes. Apparently I was the only one who didn’t believe the Little Miss Blueberry title was worth lighting oneself on fire for.
I looked down at my gorgeous wife and sighed. I could never manage to stay annoyed with her for long, especially when she saw the good in just about everything around us.
* * *
Later that night, we celebrated Pickle’s epic win with pizza and ice cream at home.
Aunt Tootie and my brothers were there to celebrate with us.
We’d moved out of Highfield House and into a sprawling ranch of our own.
It was on the outskirts of Outtatowner and was what Lark had called a “cozy little coastal ranch.” At more than three thousand square feet, she and I had very different definitions of cozy , but I’d learned long ago that Lark’s sunshine and optimism were qualities I could never snuff out.
Not that I wanted to—my wife brought happiness to every corner of my life.
If anyone had told me a wanderer would become Outtatowner’s golden girl, I could have guessed that would be Lark. After I fired her as my assistant and promoted her to wife, I told her she didn’t have to work if she didn’t want to. I’d always take care of her.
She’d laughed in my face.
Turned out Lark had a knack for organizing chaos, so while she may be a terrible waitress, she was a damn good teacher.
She started taking classes at MMU and has been working on her teaching degree while still fielding the occasional call from LA.
Her contacts there assured her if she ever thought about returning to acting, they’d answer her call.
I’d mentioned it once, wanting to make sure that Lark knew I’d support her in whatever direction she wanted to go in life.
If that meant LA, we’d figure it out. She assured me, however, that once she experienced it for herself, she knew that life wasn’t truly what she wanted.
Lark had the heart of a teacher.
“You give that thing an eviction notice yet?” Duke passed Lark with Three-Legged Ed sniffing at his feet.
Lark sighed and rubbed her belly. “Oh yeah. We’re ready. Wyatt’s planning his football training already.”
I walked past and dropped a kiss on the top of her head, and she closed her eyes to hum at me. “Never too early.”
Lark made a firm line with her mouth, and her voice dropped low to mock me. “Get those kids good and ready for a tough season.”
After all this time, her ribbing still made me laugh. I shot her a halfhearted scowl, followed by a wink.
Lee cleared his throat from the doorway to the living room. “Excuse me, may I have your attention?” He swooped his arm wide. “May I present Little Miss Blueberry herself, Penny ‘Rat Face’ Sullivan!”
We burst out laughing as Penny leaped into the kitchen with her arms spread wide. We all clapped and hollered. After a graceful bow, she slapped Lee in the arm. “You’re the worst.”
He stuck his tongue out at her and chased her around the room as he tried to tickle her. “My name is Pickle!” she squealed at a decibel not meant for human ears.
As the chaos swirled around us, I looked across the room at Lark. I love you, I mouthed.
She grinned, her hazel eyes dancing with affection. I love you more.
Coming home to Michigan was the best decision I had ever made. Everything in my world had clicked into place the moment I’d locked eyes with Lark Butler. She’d tipped my whole world, somehow set it right side up, and all it had taken was one look .