Epilogue
Jesse
Father’s Day two years later
Ishuck my muddy boots on the front porch, confused by how quiet the house seemed.
These days, our cabin hums with constant noise.
Anything short of chaos is reason for suspicion.
I frown, wondering where they could be. On Sundays, Hollie doesn’t cook dinner at the big house, and based on the conversation I had with her a few hours ago, it sounded like she’d be home.
I open the front door.
There, standing at the dining room table, is Cade and Hollie.
Hollie holds a phone upright in her hand, obviously filming something.
And Cade wears a quiet grin on his face as he comes forward to give me a hug.
“Happy Father’s Day, Dad.” We are almost eye to eye. He’ll be taller than me in a few years.
He quickly ducks out of the way.
Hollie speaks next. “We have a couple gifts for you.”
My eyes drop to a huge box sitting right in front of the table.
Loose Christmas wrapping paper is swathed around it.
The box giggles and a sharp bossy shh follows the laughter.
I scrub a hand over my chin, denying the laugh gurgling at the back of my throat.
Stepping up next to the box, I kick it a little. “Wow. What on earth could this be?”
The box devolves into giggles again, and I laugh too.
I cast a sideways glance at my wife, wondering why she looks so serious. “Should I open it?”
Nora’s voice lifts from inside the box. “Open it!”
I pluck at the loose layers of paper until I can open the flaps and peer inside. Izzy and Nora pop up, their voices joining together to wish me a happy Father’s Day.
“Aw. Thank you.” Taking the homemade cards, I give each of them a hug.
“Read the card. Read it outloud!” Nora says.
“Alright.” I peel it open to see Izzy’s handwriting scrawled across the open expanse of the page. “Dear Dad…”
Oh, shit. My eyes instantly pool with tears. Despite the past two years of life together, the girls have never called me Dad and I never expected them to. I am happy to fill that role in their life, even without the title. To see it written like this, so out of blue, almost takes me to my knees.
I keep reading. “Will you…”
My words trail off again as my throat zips tight, emotions hitting me like a freight train I didn’t see coming. My jaw falls open as I glance up at Hollie, who has tears in her eyes, too. Did I read it wrong? Izzy grips my arm, laughing, “What does it say? You’re supposed to read it out loud.”
With swimming vision, I swallow. When I look down at the card, a tear leaves a navy mark on the light blue construction paper. Nora hugs my waist, her voice less demanding now. “Come on. Read it.”
I place my free hand on her soft curls.
“It says…‘Will you—will you adopt us?’” I swipe a hand over my face as my shoulders shake. “Girls, you want—me to adopt you?”
They nod, hope and moisture brimming in their eyes, too.
I glance at Hollie again. She nods. This is real.
Completely overwhelmed, I open my arms and drag them both into my chest.
Barely squeezing the words out, I whisper, “Of course I will—you both are so special to me.”
Nora pushes back to look at my face. “So, can we call you Daddy?”
Unbidden, a tear rolls down my cheek. “That would make me so happy.”
Soft sniffling pulls my attention back to my wife. She wipes her palms over her cheeks, the phone wobbling in her hand. Before I dry the tears from my eyes, Cade approaches me with a tiny white box tied up with a yellow bow. “Here’s another gift, Dad. This one’s from Mom.”
“Another? Man, I can barely see as it is.” I give a soft huff of laughter, taking the box from his hands. Tugging the ribbon, I lift the lid.
Only to have my heart stop beating in my chest.
Blood drains from my face as shock zings through my body.
A pregnancy test.
“Hollie!” My gaze snaps to hers. “What?”
She explodes with excitement and the kids come to life all around me—the typical cabin chaos back full swing. We clump together, a mesh of hugs and smiles and tear-stained cheeks. I never would’ve guessed I’d be cramming a family of six into this cabin.
But I don’t want it any other way.
Hollie lifts to her toes, her arms clasping around my neck in the middle of our dining room. I squeeze her close and gently kiss her lips. “I can’t believe we’re having a baby.” She brushes my cheeks with her thumbs, her eyes shimmering with joy.
Cade comes forward one more time, this time holding a thick sheet of his drawing paper behind his back.
In the past year, Cade’s art has became so expressive, like the techniques he worked to learn suddenly became second nature, serving his style.
“Last one.” He flashes me a confident smile and I see so much Laurel in it.
I am going to cry again, aren’t I?
He flips it around, and tears cloud my vision again.
It is the six of us standing in an open field.
Me, Hollie, Izzy, Nora, Cade, and a bundled baby in Hollie’s arms. The colors are deep and vibrant.
Green grass, blue sky, the girls in pinks, white smiles, and dust smears on our blue jeans.
And he drew the yellow sun high in the sky, our shadows cast beneath our feet.
The way he blended the light with the dark looks so true to life that I can only gape at the page.
I pull him into a hug—words gone for the moment as I marvel at the wonders of this life. How our journeys have been fraught with so much darkness and pain.
But somehow, we are here—surrounded by so much light we glow.