Kellan
Year Later

The sound of tiny feet on hard wood lets me know I’m about to have company.

“Daddy?”

I look up from the baby goat I’m treating to see Lona standing in the doorway to my home clinic, blanket clutched in her little hand, hair a mess of red tangles. It’s a little early for her to be up with it being the weekend, but she’s always a welcome sight. 

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

She looks at the goat and frowns. “Is Franklin going to be okay?”

“He’s fine. Just a little ringworm is all. Momma treated him to a bath yesterday, and that seemed to clear it up, but we still need to be careful.”

“Momma’s been sleeping a lot lately.”

“Cooking your little brother is hard work.”

She gasps. “Cooking?”

I chuckle. “I don’t mean like in an oven. It’s an expression. I just meant that your brother is growing inside her, and it’s making her tired.” 

She nods. “Yeah, she doesn’t like cooking anyway.”

I return Franklin to his quarantine pen and bring Lona into the kitchen to help me make breakfast. 

Sitting on the counter, she cracks an egg into the pan. “Sorry, I got some of the shell in the pan.”

“That’s alright.” I fish the shell out. “And even if we ate it, it wouldn’t kill us.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want crunchy eggs.”

“Same, sweetheart.” 

I ruffle her tangled hair gently, careful not to pull. “Crunchy eggs are for chickens, not people.”

Lona giggles. “Can we make pancakes too?” she asks. “With the blueberries? The ones we picked last week?”

I lift her from the counter and put her on the floor. “They’re in the freezer. Go grab the bag—careful the lid doesn’t close on your fingers.”

The freezer door opens with a whoosh of cold air; I hear plastic rustling, then triumphant “Got it!” as she hauls the half-full bag back.

I mix the batter; she drops in the blueberries. 

Greer appears in the bedroom doorway—robe loose, one hand cradling the gentle swell of her belly, hair in the same sleepy red tangle as Lona’s. 

Just seeing her fills me with a content feeling. A stillness of mind I never had before her. 

“Morning, troublemakers,” she says, voice still thick with sleep.

Lona spins so fast she nearly topples the stool. 

“Momma! We’re making blueberry pancakes!”

She rubs her belly. “Make an extra helping for me.”

Greer sets the table while Lona and I finish making breakfast. 

“Let me get your food for you, Mommy!” Lona squeals. 

I load the plate up and hold my breath as she walks across the floor. 

Greer has often said it’s important to let her do things on her own, even if it means risking a plate, and she’s right. It took a few broken dishes, but at three, Lona can now bring food to the table. 

After dropping Momma’s plate off, she grabs ours, placing them perfectly on the table. 

“Umm-um, these are delicious,” Greer enthuses, taking a big bite of pancake.

I wink at Lona. “Best in Iron Peak!” 

Halfway through breakfast, Lona presses her palm to Greer’s belly. “When is he coming out?”

“Soon,” Greer says gently. “He just needs a little more time.”

Lona considers this, then leans down and whispers to the bump. “Hurry up. We made pancakes.”

Greer laughs, her lips curling into a smile. 

Her beauty takes my breath away, and it takes a moment for me to snap out of my daze.

“Is Uncle Rus coming to stay with us when you have the baby?” Lona’s feet kick under the table. 

Over the past few years, Rus has been coming out every few months, and has even talked about moving to Iron Peak. 

We picked up where we left off and have a fishing trip planned before the baby arrives. I put up a fuss, but Greer insisted I go, and I have to admit, I’m looking forward to it. 

“He sure will,” Greer enthuses. “Which reminds me, we need a name for the baby so he can make a sign for his door.”

Rus is good at woodworking. 

“I think we should name the baby Wilbur,” Lona says. 

Greer spits out her milk. “Wilbur?”

“Yeah, like the peacock we used to have. It was a pretty peacock. All the chickens liked him.”

Greer exhales slowly. “Well, we will certainly take your suggestion into consideration.”

After breakfast, I bring the plates to the sink, join Greer in the small room we have set up as a clinic while Lona goes to her room to tend to Gerry, who is living out his golden years. 

Greer looks up from the wash basin she’s filling for Franklin and whisper-snaps, “We are not naming our son Wilbur!”

“But…what if we did…”

Her eye bulge. 

“Just kidding.”

“There’s a reason I’m worried.” She looks at the door. “And it’s because she has you wrapped around her little pinky.”

“Yeah, but baby naming is different.”

She arches one judgmental eyebrow. “Is it? I mean, you were looking at ponies last week.”

“I’m a veterinarian, and it would be good for me to have one, so I can give my clients better advice.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fine, I promise—no Wilbur.”

“Good, now help me with Franklin.”

We bathe the baby goat, our soapy sliding together as we rub him down. It’s perfect moments like this that sneak up on me and make me teary-eyed. 

Franklin protests with a tiny bleat, kicking water onto my shirt.

After the bath, I wrap Franklin in a blanket burrito and let Lona cradle him like a baby, which he enjoys, but Lona’s always had a way with animals. Another reason a little horse would be perfect at House Blackwood, but that’s a discussion for a different day. 

We spend the day catching up on chores and tending to the many animals we’ve collected over the years. Greer jokes we should turn our yard into a petting zoo, but she never complains when I take in another. 

Lona tuckers out early in the evening, and I cuddle with Greer on the couch, talking about our future, and all the love and laughter we have to look forward to. 

Sometimes I still worry that this all might be a dream, and I’ll wake up the same jaded man I was before Greer knocked on my door. 

But those worries are fleeting, coming less with every year that passes, and tonight, they don’t come at all. 

Greer falls asleep, her body curled against mine on the couch. I stretch, letting the warmth of her sink in, feeling it in my bones. 

This is my life. Happy and blessed. Perfect in ways big and small. With the woman of my dreams and kids enough to keep my hands full. 

And for as long as I live, I’m never going to let them go. 

The End

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