Epilogue Two
ZINNIA
* Six Years Later *
Rose tops up our wine glasses, Lily brings a plate of hummus and pita from the kitchen, and I stretch out across the couch.
"A vacation at home was a great idea," Rose says, plopping down at the far end of the couch. "Packing to go anywhere would have been too exhausting."
Lily takes the easy chair as we listen through the open window at the cacophony of happy shrieks and squeals coming from the backyard.
When Aunt Doug heard that our husbands and a few more of Marty's crew were going camping on a guys weekend, she immediately stepped in. There are now three tents pitched in my backyard as she tells stories to our kids under the early evening stars.
I don't know how she manages to wrangle all five of them, but they obey her as if she were a drill sergeant. We've heard her command them to run around the yard ten times to tire themselves out, and they actually do it.
"You know," Lily says slowly, "When the kids are a bit older, we could take a real vacation. The three of us could just take off somewhere."
"Hawaii?" I suggest, since our movie is paused on a gorgeous shot of waves and palm trees.
Rose's head tilts. "Maybe." She looks back and forth between us. "Or we could hit London for a few days, then go anywhere in Europe from there. Maybe Italy?"
"Shelby would love that," Lily says.
Dad's new wife is surprisingly down to earth, and she's mellowed him out so much we barely recognize him. Although our interactions are mostly through video calls, he's constantly surprising us with gifts for the children.
From small stuffed toys to computers to camping equipment, parcels from Dad are frequent and sometimes random.
I'm pretty sure that Shelby sends the cute things, and Dad sends the educational stuff.
Either way, his gifts to our kids have never come with strings or shifting rules. He simply wants to spoil them.
"Yeah, England, then… Anywhere, I guess," I laugh.
"We can take years to plan," Lily grins. "Well, Rose can take years. You and I can just show up at the last minute with a suitcase." Rose scowls, throwing a pretzel that bounces off the top of Lily's head.
"Hey! No food fights or you don't get baklava," I laugh.
We hear another round of squealing as the kids race around outside.
Lily's son Brendan wants to be an electrician just like Dean. Their daughter Iris is fascinated with insects. I could see her becoming a scientist.
Meanwhile Rose's daughter Violet and son Oliver are both budding little artists, just like their mom, and always singing, like their dad.
I can clearly pick Jasmine's high voice out of the racket. She veers wildly back and forth between a complete angel to a sweet-faced devil, chasing her cousins and then acting innocent when they tell her to knock it off.
Unlike other children who seem to squabble all the time, ours get along just as well as my sisters and I always have. We're a team. Best friends, and a constant source of strength for each other.
"Zinnia, throw me that blanket?" Rose asks.
I laugh, tossing it at her head. "How can you be cold? It's the middle of August."
"I've eaten too much. All of my heat has gone to digesting. It's Lily's fault for bringing so many snacks."
We collapse into a fit of giggles, just like we did when we were the same age as our kids. And in high school. And when we moved to Sandersville together.
And now, as wives and mothers.
I know we'll laugh together forever.