EPILOGUE
Found
Jamie
It’s been just over a year since our wedding. I still occasionally stay in the city, but only when it’s necessary due to back-to-back road trips. My life, our life, is here on this lake.
Morning settles over Briar Cove as quietly as a prayer.
Mist drifts across the lake beyond the cabin while the first rays of sunlight spill through the towering pines.
The lake lies perfectly still, reflecting the cabin, the pines, and the life we've built here as though it never wants the morning to end.
Most people would probably still be asleep.
But old habits die hard. Coffee mug in hand, I step off the back deck and study the collection of lumber spread across the grass.
Pressure-treated posts. A stack of cedar boards. Two unopened boxes of hardware.
One instruction manual that's already lying face down exactly where I left it yesterday.
Naturally.
I pick up the cordless drill instead. Some things are simply more enjoyable when you pretend the instructions don't exist.
The first support beam is almost in place when I hear the screen door open behind me.
"I wondered where you disappeared to."
I glance over my shoulder as Annette steps onto the deck carrying a glass of orange juice.
She pauses at the top of the steps, closing her eyes for a moment as the morning sun warms her face.
***
My first thought. Twenty weeks. We’re already halfway there.
Somehow, she grows more beautiful every single day.
She walks down the steps slowly, still carrying the juice I poured for her before slipping outside.
Her eyes travel over the scattered lumber, to the half-built frame, and then back to me.
A smile begins tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Jamie..."
The tone alone tells me exactly what's coming. "What?"
She folds her arms. "You know that a newborn won't be able to use a swing for at least another couple of years."
I tighten another bolt. "I'm aware."
"So..."
I give the wrench one final turn before looking up. "I like being prepared."
She laughs, and I'm reminded that the best parts of my life have never made much noise.
"I've noticed."
***
She steps beside me, studying the frame taking shape beneath the maple tree.
"You know our baby will be perfectly happy with a blanket on the grass for a while."
"Probably."
"…and spend most of the first year wanting to be held."
"I hope so."
She tilts her head. "So why are you building this now?"
For a moment I simply look at the unfinished swing set. Then toward the cabin. Toward the dock. Toward the life that somehow became mine.
"I spent too many years believing I had to wait until everything was perfect before I could enjoy it. I'm done waiting."
For a long moment neither of us says anything. We don't need to.
The gentle breeze stirs the pine branches overhead.
***
She slips her hand into mine while we study the unfinished frame together.
"I was thinking," she says quietly.
“Should I be worried?”
She nudges my shoulder. "I mean it."
"I know."
She smiles before looking back toward the swing set.
"I've been wondering what our baby will be like, for instance will this sweet thing have your patience."
I laugh. "I think you've confused me with someone else."
"You sat through eight weeks of physical therapy without throwing anything."
"I thought about it. I just liked my therapist."
Color warms her cheeks. "Professional ethics prevented me from commenting on that."
"They certainly tried."
She laughs, and I swear I'll never get tired of hearing that sound.
"What about you?" she asks. "Have you wondered?"
"Every day."
"What do you imagine?"
I lean against the half-finished frame, taking my time before answering.
"I hope our baby is kind."
Annette looks at me, surprised. "That's first?"
"It is."
"Not athletic?" I shake my head.
"Not brilliant?" "No."
She waits.
"I've met a lot of talented people." I glance toward the cabin where laughter and Sunday dinners have slowly become normal. "I've met a lot fewer people who make everyone around them feel safe and cared about."
Her fingers tighten around mine. "I'd like that."
"So would I."
***
Somewhere behind us the screen door creaks open again.
Followed almost immediately by the unmistakable sound of eight enthusiastic paws racing across the deck.
Courtesy of Toby at our wedding reception, Duke and Willow had wandered straight into our hearts.
Somehow the two golden retriever puppies that Toby “borrowed” for our wedding never left—and the pair has ruled the cabin ever since.
Apparently crashing our wedding reception had only been the beginning.
Now two mostly grown-up golden retrievers have become our constant companions.
Duke barrels straight toward us, Willow right on his heels as though both dogs still believe we invited them home on purpose.
Each is convinced they're the first to discover us this morning. "Well..." I laugh as Duke drops a slobbery tennis ball at my feet. "Apparently I'm needed."
Annette shakes her head. "He's completely adopted you."
"It's mutual."
Willow is different. Somewhere along the way, she quietly decided that Annette belongs to her.
Whenever Annette sits, Willow settles nearby, never quite taking her eyes off her.
I don't have the heart to argue. Annette smiles as Willow presses against her leg, absentmindedly scratching behind one soft ear.
I watch Duke nudge Annette's hand while Willow remains faithfully at her side.
"They've already decided that this baby's part of the pack. "
***
Just then a truck door closes somewhere near the front of the cabin.
Annette glances toward the driveway. "They're early."
"My mother always is."
"And yours taught mine to do it."
I grin. "Apparently punctuality is contagious."
I set the drill on the deck rail and together we walk around the cabin toward the front yard as another familiar SUV turns into the drive. Home has a funny way of getting noisier every year.
Duke grabs his tennis ball and trots after us while Willow never strays more than a step from Annette's side.
***
By the time we round the corner, my parents are already climbing out of Dad's truck. Mom barely has time to straighten her sweater before Duke reaches her, tail wagging hard enough to shake his entire back end.
"There you are, handsome," she laughs, rubbing both ears. "I see you haven't forgotten me."
"He doesn't forget anyone who slips him treats," Dad says.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Keep telling yourself that."
An SUV pulls in. Coach climbs out first, followed by Becca, who walks straight over to Annette and wraps her in a careful hug.
"How are you feeling?"
"Good."
"No morning sickness?"
"Finally gone."
"Good." Becca smiles. "Now I can spoil you properly."
Within minutes, the quiet morning disappears beneath easy conversation, laughter, and the familiar rhythm that has somehow become our family.
***
Annette’s parents arrive bearing, as usual, loads of packages and smiles. Colby and Sadie arrive next with Jillie bursting from the back seat before the engine is even off.
"Uncle Jamie!"
She launches herself at me. I barely have time to catch her before she's wrapping both arms around my neck.
"Easy there," I laugh.
"I'm not little anymore."
"So, I've noticed."
She grins. "I helped Mom make cinnamon rolls."
"I had a feeling you might."
"I only ate one."
Sadie raises an eyebrow. "Two," Jillie admits.
"That's closer."
Another truck eases into the driveway.
Toby climbs out first, then Caleb and Brooke.
Caleb is very carefully carrying a small, insulated cooler.
My mom points toward it. "That looks suspicious."
Caleb's grin is almost too innocent.
"It should."
"What’s the cooler for?"
"Insurance."
"For what?"
"In case someone gets a little too nosy."
I narrow my eyes.
"Rather mysterious answers, I’d say," as I wink at Annette.
He pats the lid. "Just trust me."
"I've known you too long for that."
Caleb laughs but doesn't offer another word.
Whatever's inside that cooler, he's guarding it like it's the Stanley Cup.
The day is full of food, laughs, games, and happiness, but as the afternoon wears on we see people finding places to curl up and slow down, enjoying quiet talks.
***
Caleb waits until everyone has found a place on the deck before setting the insulated cooler on the picnic table.
He glances around the group, then looks at us.
"All right," he says. "I think we're finally all here."
"Yes, Caleb, it’s your turn, you're in charge now," I reply. Annette nods and laughs beside me.
Caleb reaches into the cooler and carefully lifts out a small velvet pouch.
"When Jamie asked if I'd help with today, I wanted to make something that felt like us."
He opens the pouch and tips a hockey puck into his hand. It looks ordinary until he turns it over. A fine silver seam circles the middle.
Toby whistles softly. "You made that?"
Caleb shrugs. "I had some time."
"You've got too much time."
"I've been told that before."
He hands the puck to me. "I figured the captain should take a shot."
I turn it over in my hands. It looks ordinary enough, but I know it’s not.
Around us, puzzled smiles spread through the group. Everyone knows Annette and I had a surprise planned. No one seems quite sure what it is.
Annette slips her fingers through mine. "You ready?"
I look at her, not at the puck, not at our family gathered around us. Just her.
I grin. “Let's find out.”
Caleb points toward the small shooting pad he'd quietly placed in the grass.
"No slap shot."
Coach snorts. "He wasn't listening until you said that."
"I heard every word."
"I don't believe you."
Laughter ripples through the group, exactly as Caleb intended.
The nerves disappear as I lay the puck on the pad, take one step back, settle my stick behind it, then glance once more toward Annette.
She nods.
I draw the stick back just enough.
The puck jumps forward.
Cracks cleanly against the shooting board.
For one heartbeat...
Nothing happens.
Then the puck splits neatly in half.
A cloud of soft pink powder drifts into the summer air.
Silence.
***
For one stunned heartbeat, nobody moves. Then the realization sweeps across the deck all at once.
Both of our moms press their hands over their mouths.
Becca lets out the happiest little squeal. A very pregnant Sadie throws her arms around Colby while Jillie dances around them both.
Coach claps me hard enough on the shoulder to remind me that I probably shouldn't have stood quite so close.
"A granddaughter," Dad says quietly, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes.
I don't think I hear anyone else after that.
I just turn. Annette is already looking at me. Her eyes shine with tears she isn't trying to hide.
"So..." she whispers.
"So..."
I laugh once, completely overwhelmed. "We're having a daughter."
She nods. "We are."
I wrap my arms around her as everyone else fades into the background. For a long moment, the world becomes wonderfully small. Just the two of us, and the tiny little life that somehow already feels bigger than everything else.
Then, as if on cue, a small flutter presses against Annette's hand. Her eyes widen.
"What?" She takes my hand and lays it gently against her stomach. "Wait."
I barely breathe. Another tiny kick, so light I almost think I imagined it. Then another.
I look up at Annette. Neither of us says a word. We don't have to.
***
Behind us, the family keeps laughing. Duke barks at absolutely nothing. Willow settles at Annette's feet with a contented sigh.
Life simply goes on around us.
And standing there with my hand resting over our daughter—our baby only moments before—I realize something.
Strength is standing beside the woman you love. Building a swing set before anyone can use it. Opening your home until it becomes everyone else's too. Trusting that tomorrow will come... and looking forward to it.
I glance toward the unfinished swing beneath the maple tree. "I guess I'd better finish it… and maybe paint it pink?"
Annette laughs through her tears. "I think that's a very good idea."
I kiss her forehead as the breeze moves through the pines and the people we love fill the cabin and yard with noise.
I don't have to wonder anymore what forever looks like.
I'm already living it.
THE END