Epilogue #4
“Nope. We’re hoofing it now.”
I probably should have put it together then.
But I just grabbed several of the bags and followed Runa down a path that seemed freshly cleared. The bent trees and cut bushes were all still green.
Had she hired someone to make a path through the woods for us? If so, why?
It was when I heard the creek that something started to click. It was a hair-on-the-back-of-my-neck thing at first. Then a flip in my stomach.
But before I could piece it together, the path yawned into a clearing.
And there it was.
The cabin my father had owned.
The one I’d once mentioned wishing I’d been able to buy, but I’d been busy taking care of my sick grandfather and hadn’t gotten a chance.
“Baby,” I said, feeling more choked up than I’d anticipated.
“Happy Father’s Day,” she said, beaming at me.
“Happy Father’s Day!” Denali parroted.
Next to my daughter and the woman I loved, it was the greatest gift I’d ever been given.
Runa - 3 years
It was my turn for a surprise trip.
We were back up in New York, but not to the cabin—where we’d spent two long weeks the year before, roughing it in the woods.
And by “roughing it,” I meant we had a fully stocked fridge, solar power, septic, and well water.
I’d secretly added all those things to the cabin to make it functional for our family.
We spent our days wandering through the woods, making wildflower crowns, playing in the water, having picnics, and just enjoying being so unconnected.
We weren’t heading there, though.
Nor were we going to the hotel where we’d made Denali.
It didn’t click until we pulled into a full lot and I saw the lights, heard the music, the chimes, the screams, and the laughter.
We were at the fair where we’d met.
The nostalgia was so strong, I felt like crying as we walked around, getting funnel cakes, and talked about our life and how incredible it was that we were where we were all thanks to this sweet little town fair.
When we reached the games, York dropped my hand, dug into his pocket, produced quarters, then nodding toward the shooting game.
I took the coins and practically skipped over.
I laid down my money, picked up the gun, and aimed.
I suspected nothing.
Not even how easy it was for me to win.
Embarrassingly, I thought my aim had just gotten that much better, thanks to many hours at the range at the clubhouse.
I didn’t even suspect anything when a capybara was passed to me.
It wasn’t until I saw the ring on a chain around his neck that I finally understood.
When I turned, York was on his knee.
And there was never any question.
Of course we were going to spend the rest of our lives together.
York - 13 years
“I’m not ready for this,” I grumbled as Denali shoved another box into the backseat of her very safe SUV.
She was eighteen and a half (she no longer kept track of halves, but I found myself clinging to them). And she was on her way to college.
She grew up a lot like her mother—tall, lean, rich brown hair, a contagious smile. Unlike her mother, she was still as girly as you could get. Even gearing up for a several-day-long road trip, she was dressed in a flowing floral dress and heeled sandals.
“You have all the money in the world. Invent a time machine,” I demanded, looking at Runa. “Take us back to zoo trips and princesses. I can’t do this.”
“I think I blinked and she went from eight to eighteen.”
I never agreed with that saying about the days being short and the years long. It seemed the exact opposite for us. Days had been long, lingering, and joy-filled. The years seemed to fly past us too quickly to hold onto.
We went from having a sweet little doe-eyed little girl to a young woman who was on her way to her new life.
Away from us.
All the way to New York City.
We hadn’t had more children. It honestly didn’t even seem to occur to us to consider it for several years. We were so wrapped around Denali’s finger that we didn’t feel like we were missing anything.
Maybe having other kids at home still would soften the blow of this loss.
As it was, we were both raw about it while trying to appear as happy as we could for our girl, who was nothing but excited to take her first real steps toward adulthood.
“Don’t be sad,” Denali said, her eyes looking watery as she came to step in front of us.
“We’re so happy for you,” Runa insisted.
“But sad for yourselves.”
“It’s just hard to watch you go.”
“You’re going to see me at Thanksgiving!” she reminded us.
We would.
Because she was cooking it.
She still loved cooking, like Eddie taught her.
She still knitted, like Maud had.
Still fiddled with woodworking projects, bird-watched, did martial arts, liked glamping, loved a fair. She was a blend of everyone she had ever come in contact with.
Perfect.
She was absolutely perfect.
“We love you. So much,” Runa said, wrapping our girl up tight. Then I wrapped them both up.
“I love you too. More than anything. It’s just three months,” she reminded us as she took a step back.
“It will fly by,” Runa agreed, mostly lying. It was going to fly for her, but drag for us.
“Alright. You’ve held onto him long enough,” Denali said, looking pointedly toward the capybara stuffed animal that was tucked under my arm. “He’s coming with me.”
I handed him over and she one-arm hugged the stuffed animal that started it all.
“Oh, and here,” she said, grabbing the last box sitting in the driveway. “I got you guys something. But you’re not allowed to open it until I’m gone.”
There was another hug, promises to call, then she was off, pausing only to belt the capybara into the passenger seat.
Then she was gone.
We watched the car until it disappeared before turning to the box and unfolding the tuck.
Inside were two smaller boxes.
We each took ours and opened them to find little capybara keychains.
“Do you think she would notice if we just… bought her apartment building and moved in across the hall?” I asked.
Runa let out a watery laugh as she wiped a tear from her cheek.
“She’ll be okay. We did good with her.”
“Yeah, we did,” I agreed. “I have a surprise for you too,” I said, reaching into my pocket to produce my phone to show her the hotel reservation. “Same room and everything,” I told her. “Let’s take a trip back to where it first started.”
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