EPILOGUE #2
“That is not relevant.”
Leo offered her the bottle.
She accepted it immediately.
He looked unbearably pleased with himself. “She was hungry.”
“She rejected it.”
“She changed her mind.” Leo watched her drink as though this explained everything.
“There was no new information.”
“Of course there was,” he said.
“What?”
“Uncle Leo is here.” His attention returned to Zoe.
She drank steadily, one hand curled into his shirt.
“I preferred you before you became useful.”
His smile softened. “That is a terrible lie.”
“No. It isn’t.”
Leo adjusted the bottle and let the matter go.
Zoe finished almost two ounces before turning her face into his chest. He held her upright for a moment, rubbing a slow hand over her back until she began searching for a more comfortable position.
“She wants you.” He held her out.
I took her, and she rested against my shoulder while I patted her back. Nothing happened until I adjusted my hand and applied slightly more pressure.
Zoe burped directly beside my ear.
Then she spit up down the front of my shirt.
Leo turned toward the sink, laughing before he could hide it.
A white streak spread from my shoulder toward the center of my chest. Zoe rested her cheek against it.
“She appears satisfied.”
“That is what matters.” Leo wet another cloth and handed it to me.
I wiped my shirt before carrying Zoe toward the changing mat. Leo cleared the empty bottle and washcloth from my path, staying close enough to help without reaching over me while I changed her.
Zoe kicked both legs. One heel caught the clean diaper and sent it toward the floor, but Leo caught it before it landed.
“That was fortunate,” I said.
“I’m becoming very useful today.” He placed it in my hand.
Zoe caught one foot and twisted sideways before I could fasten the second tab. I repositioned her.
She smiled.
“You find this amusing.”
Her smile widened.
Leo looked over my shoulder. “She has your sense of humor.”
“I’m not amused.”
“I meant hers.” He gathered the discarded wipes.
I finished fastening the diaper.
Zoe remained clean for the next three minutes before drooling through the front of her shirt.
Leo opened the third drawer and removed another without being asked. “Brynn arranged these by color.”
“I arranged them by size.”
“Of course you did.” He handed me the shirt.
There was no judgment in his voice. He had known me long enough to stop being surprised.
I changed Zoe while Leo rinsed the bottle. When I lifted her again, she reached toward him.
“She wants something.” He set the bottle aside.
“She wants your beard.”
“That is still something,” he said as he lowered his face within reach. Zoe buried both hands in his beard and pulled.
“You can stop her.”
“She is happy,” he said.
“She’s removing hair.”
“I have more.” His eyes watered slightly, but he stayed where he was.
Zoe made a pleased sound.
He would have given her every hair on his head if she seemed interested.
I freed his beard before she could test that theory.
Zoe objected.
Leo rubbed his jaw. “She has strong hands.”
“She’s a Mercer.”
“She is also a Hunt.” He inspected the damage to his beard.
“That explains the violence.”
He laughed and reached for the small wooden rabbit on the shelf near the window.
I had seen him working on it at the main house but had not asked why. The rabbit had uneven ears and a rounded body polished smooth from repeated sanding.
He moved it slowly through Zoe’s line of sight.
Her crying stopped.
“You made that for her.”
“I had wood left.” Leo offered it, but I caught his wrist.
“She’ll put it in her mouth.”
“I used olive wood.” He held the rabbit still for inspection. “No paint. No oil. I sanded every part twice.”
The surface was smooth, without small pieces or sharp edges.
Once I released his wrist, Leo placed it in Zoe’s hand. She immediately tried to chew one ear.
He looked proud enough to have carved a masterpiece. “She knows quality.”
“She can’t distinguish wood from food.”
“She is learning,” he said.
Zoe dropped it less than a minute later. Leo caught the rabbit before it hit the floor, wiped the damp ear against his shirt, and placed it within reach on the table.
By the time her eyelids began to lower, the bottle had cooled, the washcloth sat forgotten near the sink, and my shirt had acquired two additional stains.
I carried her toward the open window. The breeze moved through the curtains and brushed across her face, and she relaxed against me.
So I stayed there.
Leo gathered the used cloths and restored the room to some approximation of order.
He glanced over. “She is sleeping?”
“Almost.”
Beyond the cottage, the olive groves ran down the slope in long rows. Their leaves turned silver whenever the wind passed through them.
Farther out, between two older trees, stood the place where Brynn had married me.
Nothing marked it now except the trees and the photographs Brynn had insisted on printing.
I had prepared vows.
Brynn had let me finish three sentences before taking my face between her hands and kissing me.
“That sounds like enough,” she had said.
It had been.
Zoe moved against my chest, found one of my fingers, and closed her hand around it.
On the table sat a folder Brynn had left there the night before. Zoe’s birth certificate rested inside.
I had read it when it arrived, then returned to the names again before bed.
Zoe Mercer.
Brynn Hunt Mercer.
Jameson Mercer.
All three on one permanent record.
I had spent most of my life making people impossible to find.
Zoe would never have to disappear.
The door opened at 11:36.
Marina’s voice entered first as she described a vendor who had attempted to charge her tourist prices. Brynn laughed beside her, and paper bags rustled as they crossed into the kitchen.
Then both women stopped.
Brynn stood in the doorway holding a loaf of bread against one hip. Marina remained behind her with tomatoes, herbs, and a bundle of flowers.
Their attention moved through the cottage.
The blanket had been folded. The used cloths were piled beside the sink, and the empty bottle sat near the drying rack. Leo was wiping the counter with Zoe’s discarded washcloth.
I stood near the window with spit-up drying on my shirt and our daughter asleep against my chest.
Brynn pressed her lips together.
It did not help.
She looked between the three of us. “How did it go?”
I glanced around the cottage. “Operationally, there were complications.”
Leo gestured toward my shirt with the cloth. “He did very well. Zoe was less cooperative.”
“She didn’t ask you.” I adjusted Zoe against my chest.
“I know.” He resumed wiping the counter. “But you would leave out all the interesting parts.”
Marina laughed as she carried the groceries into the kitchen.
Brynn set the bread on the counter and crossed the room. Her eyes moved over my shirt, the empty bottle, and Zoe asleep against me.
“You didn’t call.” She stopped in front of me.
“There was no emergency.” I lowered my voice when Zoe moved.