Epilogue Two
AFTER HOURS DENTISTRY
Blake
I’m halfway through Heidi’s second bedtime story when she suddenly gasps, making me sit straighter before I even know what happened. “What?”
She grabs Bunny from beside her pillow. “‘Mergency.”
“What kind of emergency?”
“Her toof hurts.”
I look at the stuffed rabbit. Bunny looks back at me with the same stitched-on expression she has worn through every medical crisis Heidi has invented for her. “Which tooth?”
Heidi tips Bunny back and peers seriously at her mouth, even though Bunny doesn’t technically have teeth. Then she pokes her little finger in the place where Bunny’s mouth is. “That one. You have to fix it.”
“It’s bedtime, sweetheart.”
She gives me a devastated look. “But Daddy, it hurts.”
I sigh. This is how I always end up practicing dentistry after hours on patients who don’t have mouths. “Okay. I’ll take a look at Bunny’s hurt tooth.”
Heidi immediately brightens. “You need your dentist coat.”
I shake my head. “I don’t need it.”
“It won’t work if you don’t wear it.”
There are some kinds of three-year-old logic that just can’t be disputed, no matter how hard you try. “Stay here,” I say. Then I retrieve one of my clean white dental coats and put it on. I grab my headlamp and put it on, too.
When I return, Heidi claps. “Now you’re Dr. Daddy.”
“I’ve been Dr. Daddy the entire time.”
“No. Before you were just Daddy.”
I sit on the edge of her bed and hold out my hand. “Patient.”
Heidi carefully transfers Bunny into my arms.
“How long has the tooth been hurting her?”
Heidi thinks hard. “She fell off the couch after dinner.”
“Ouch.”
Heidi nods solemnly. “She bounced.”
I turn on my headlamp and examine the general vicinity of Bunny’s mouth while Heidi watches like I’m performing emergency surgery.
My phone chimes, but I ignore it. I’m busy being Dr. Daddy, taking care of an emergency dental issue. It chimes again, then twice more. My phone is by the book I set down on the bed, so I say, “Siri, read text messages.”
Siri begins.
Charlie: Okay, I did the math.
Emerson: You just said my favorite sentence.
Charlie: Ledger and Zoe got engaged.
Charlie: 49 days later, Owen and I got engaged.
Charlie: 11 days after THAT, Miles and Reese got engaged.
Charlie: THREE LANCASTER ENGAGEMENTS IN SIXTY DAYS.
Heidi is sitting bolt upright, and because she somehow figured out which button pauses Siri, she presses it with her little finger. “Uncko Miles is getting married too?”
“Apparently.”
“To Reese?”
“Yes.”
Her entire face lights up. “And Aunt Charlie is getting married to Owen.”
“Yes.”
“And Uncko Ledger is marrying Zoe.”
“Yep.”
Heidi starts counting on her fingers. It takes several attempts because sometimes counting is hard.
“That’s three weddings!”
“Excellent work.”
“And Baby Grace.”
“Not a wedding.”
“No. But she’s new.”
That is difficult to argue with.
Heidi has also figured out how to press the play button, so Siri starts reading again. Just how fast is my family typing?
Ledger: You’re welcome, everyone. Zoe and I clearly started a trend.
Zoe: I would like the record to show that I proposed to you.
Miles: Pretty sure trends require people to actually be influenced by you.
Charlie: Facts are facts, Miles. HALF OF THE LANCASTER CHILDREN GOT ENGAGED IN TWO MONTHS.
Emerson: And Jace and Mackenzie produced a new Lancaster during the same period.
Mackenzie: “Produced” makes Grace sound like a quarterly deliverable.
Jace: Considering the amount of labor involved, I support giving Mackenzie full production credit.
Evelyn: I am thrilled. Truly.
Evelyn: I also feel like I blinked and suddenly gained three future children-in-law and a granddaughter.
Charlie: FAMILY EXPANSION SPEED RUN.
Evelyn: Please don’t make it sound competitive.
Ledger: Too late.
Owen: I’m starting to understand why joining this family came with paperwork.
Evelyn: I am going to need everyone to stagger the weddings.
Miles: Mom, I proposed twenty minutes ago.
Evelyn: And I love you very much. Please stagger the weddings.
I stop being Dr. Dad long enough to stop Siri from reading my messages. Before I can even close out of my texting app, more have come in.
Owen: For the record, Charlie and I are very open to scheduling negotiations.
Charlie: We are?
Owen: No. I was trying to help your mother.
Reese: For the record, I have planned absolutely nothing yet.
Charlie: LIAR.
Reese: Okay, I have planned nothing that Miles has officially approved yet.
Miles: This is accurate.
Emerson: I’m betting Charlie has already created a spreadsheet for hers and Owen’s wedding.
Reese: I can confirm that she has.
I send my own text.
Blake: I’m muting this chat.
Charlie: YOU CAN’T MUTE LOVE, BLAKE.
Blake: Watch me.
Ledger: Careful, old man. At this rate you’re next.
Blake: No.
Charlie: FOURTH ENGAGEMENT COUNTDOWN BEGINS NOW.
Blake: Muted.
As soon as I send the text, I turn off my screen and put my phone face down on the bed. Blessed silence.
Heidi looks very happy about the Lancaster family news. I can almost see the little gears moving in her head right before she says, “Daddy?”
I shift my gaze from Bunny’s mouth to my daughter’s face.
“When are you gonna get married?”
“Someday.”
Her little nose wrinkles. “You always say someday.”
“Because it’s always true.”
“You said you’d find me a mom and you haven’t yet.”
The longing look she gives me always stabs me in the heart. I did tell her that. And I meant it. I smooth a hand over her hair. “Someday,” I repeat. “But I have to find the right person first.”
“How?”
That’s a good question. Carefully. Slowly. And with a lot of thought. This isn’t the kind of decision to rush, especially when Heidi is part of it. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll figure that out.”
Heidi nods like she decided to trust me with the assignment. “Okay.”
We both turn our attention back to Bunny. One life-altering problem at a time.
I shine my light again toward her nonexistent teeth. “Good news.”
Heidi leans closer. “What?”
“No cavities.”
Her eyes go huge with relief.
“The patient should avoid falling off couches for the next twenty-four hours and get plenty of rest.”
Heidi immediately tucks Bunny beneath her blanket. “Can she have carrots?”
“In moderation.”
“Chocolate?”
“No.”
“Gummy bears?”
“Absolutely not.”
Heidi pats Bunny sympathetically. “Sorry.”
I take off my white coat and headlamp and reach for the book I’d been reading to Heidi. My phone starts buzzing again, but I don’t even look at it. Three engagements, one new baby, and apparently an entire family determined to expand at an alarming rate. They can manage without me for ten minutes.
I have a patient recovering from a dental emergency, and a daughter who still needs the end of her story.