Epilogue
Another Three Years Later
Looking out the window above the sink, I try to hold in my laughter, watching Lachlan spin our honeymoon souvenir around in the air. Lyla’s giggles are music to my ears as it carries in through the screen door, the sound of wind chimes tinkling along with it. That little girl is our entire world. Before we got married, we decided to start trying for a baby during our honeymoon. For some reason both of us were convinced that it would take months, maybe even a year or more, but we lucked out and ended up pregnant our wedding night.
There’s a kick against my stomach, and I place my hand against the round swell, now watching Lachlan show Lyla how to feed the chickens.
I had wanted to space our children out a little more, but the baby boy growing inside of me had other plans for us. Brodie will be joining us in less than four weeks. I’m excited, but terrified too, worried I won’t love him as much as I love Lyla. I know in my gut I’ll love him the same, but that doesn’t ease my fears.
“Mommy!” Lyla calls from outside. “I feed chickens! Come see!”
I let the dishes I was cleaning rest in the soapy water as I walk out, padding across the yard to join my family.
Lachlan … God, Lachlan.
He’s thirty-seven now, and I swear my Superman is even better looking than the first time I laid eyes on him. The graying at his temples makes him look more distinguished and I love kissing the laugh lines beside his mouth, because those mean I’ve made him happy.
“Look, Momma.” Lyla holds her chubby hand out, tossing the feed onto the ground.
We chose to stay near Salt Lake City, but moved about an hour away. Lachlan still commutes forty minutes to work at the same place he took a job after leaving Aspen Lake High. I got my degree, and work from home doing marketing for an organic health food store. It’s nice because I still get to work, but also be home with Lyla.
The house we bought sits on a few acres, which meant I got my chickens, two goats, and one cow. It’s a work in progress, but I know this is where we’re meant to watch our children grow.
“Wow,” I say to Lyla. “You’re so good. They love you.”
And they really do. I think Lyla thinks the chickens are dogs, which I can’t possibly fathom—though Zeppelin is more the size of a bear than a dog, so I guess her confusion makes sense.
Lachlan scoops Lyla into his arms and stands, putting an arm around my waist.
“How are you feeling, baby?”
“Tired.” I rub my round stomach. “He’s kicking a lot. I think he bruised my ribs.”
He laughs like I’m kidding. I’m not.
“Dadda, put me down.” Lyla kicks and squirms to get down. He places her on the grass and her tiny feet take off running, letting the chickens chase her.
“I didn’t know it was possible to be this happy,” Lachlan murmurs, placing his hand on my belly over top of mine.
“Me either.” I lean my head against his side, both of us watching Lyla run and squeal.
She’s the perfect mix of both of us, his dark hair, my hazel eyes, my lips, but his nose. She’s full of excitement and spunk. She reminds me of myself when I was young, before life happened. But thanks to her daddy, I found joy again.
Lyla runs up to us again, holding out a dandelion ripe with seeds.
“Make wish, Mommy.”
I bend down as best I can at eight months pregnant and take the dandelion from her, smiling wistfully.
“Wish,” she repeats, touching her small warm hand to my cheek.
“Together?” I wrap her hand around the stem so we’re both holding it.
“Otay.” I smile, loving how she can never say okay even though she talks up a storm already at such a young age.
“Okay, baby girl, let’s make a wish.”
I feel Lachlan’s hand squeeze my shoulder as my eyes close.