Epilogue

Epilogue

[20 years later]

I stand in the lush courtyard of the Knight Estate, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the manicured lawn. The air is thick with the scent of blooming roses and freshly cut grass, a heady mixture that never fails to remind me of home. My eyes are fixed on our youngest daughter, Zelda, as she gleefully splashes in a muddy puddle near the ornate fountain.

At four years old, Zelda is a whirlwind of energy and curiosity. Her short blonde hair, so much like Erica’s, is matted with mud, sticking up in all directions. Her hazel eyes, a mirror of my own, sparkle with unbridled joy as she scoops up handfuls of mud, letting it squish between her tiny fingers before flinging it into the air with a delighted squeal.

I can’t help but smile as I watch her, my heart swelling with a love so intense it almost hurts. Zelda is our sixth daughter, the baby of our family, and the only one Erica allowed me to name.

Erica stands beside me, her presence as commanding and comforting as ever. Even after two decades of marriage, she still takes my breath away. She’s dressed casually in tailored slacks and a crisp white blouse, but she exudes an aura of authority that never diminishes.

I feel her eyes on me before she speaks. “She really loves the mud, doesn’t she?” Erica says, her tone a mixture of annoyance and begrudging amusement.

I turn to face her, drinking in the sight of my wife. “Yeah,” I reply, unable to keep the fondness out of my voice. “She’s definitely not afraid to get her hands dirty.”

Erica steps behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist and pulling me close against her. The warmth of her body seeps through my clothes, a comforting presence that still sends a thrill through me after all these years. She rests her chin in the crook between my neck and shoulder.

“You know,” she whispers, her voice low and tempting, “if we give Zelda to Amelia for a while, we could head back downstairs.”

I can feel the smile in her voice, the unspoken promise of what awaits us in our private sanctuary. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, but I hesitate.

“We spent all of yesterday and the day before down there,” I protest weakly, even as I lean back into her embrace. “I don’t want our daughters to forget us.”

Erica’s laugh is rich and warm, vibrating through her chest and into my back. Her arms tighten around me, possessive and reassuring all at once.

“Oh, honey,” she says, amusement coloring her tone. “Our kids are the only ones in their entire school with a father who lives exclusively with them. Trust me, they’re not going to forget us anytime soon.”

I furrow my brow, turning my head slightly to catch a glimpse of her face. “Is that really true?”

“Yeah,” Erica says, her voice taking on a more serious tone. “The gender imbalance has only gotten worse over the years. There are even fewer men now than when we first met.”

I turn in her arms, my eyes widening with surprise. “Wow, that’s... that’s going to be a huge issue for society, isn’t it?”

Erica laughs, but there’s a hard edge to it that I’ve come to recognize over the years. “I guess it could be,” she says with a shrug, “but honestly, it’s not our problem.”

I chuckle, shaking my head slightly. “True,” I agree, feeling a mixture of relief and guilt at the thought. It’s moments like these that remind me how sheltered my life really is.

Suddenly, our peaceful moment is interrupted by the sound of running footsteps. Hope, now a beautiful young woman of 20, comes sprinting across the lawn. Her long blonde hair streams behind her as she races towards Zelda, who has wandered back to the muddy puddle.

“Dad!” Hope calls out, her voice tinged with exasperation. “Zelda’s eating mud again!”

I watch as Hope gently but firmly pulls Zelda’s mud-covered hand away from her mouth. Zelda looks up at her older sister with wide, innocent eyes, her lower lip quivering slightly as if she’s about to cry.

I can’t help but laugh at the scene. “She really does love eating mud, doesn’t she?” I say, my voice filled with fond amusement.

Hope looks over at us, rolling her eyes. “It’s not funny, Dad,” she says, but I can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “She could get sick.”

“Grandkids,” she chants, her voice growing louder with each repetition. “Grandkids, grandkids, grandkids!”

Her eyes, bleary but determined, scan the group assembled on the lawn. When they land on Zelda, still covered in mud and looking confused by the sudden appearance of her grandmother, Mom’s face lights up with a broad, slightly lopsided grin.

“There’s my girl!” Mom exclaims, swooping down to scoop Zelda into her arms. She spins around, mud flying off Zelda’s clothes and splattering across the pristine lawn. Zelda squeals with delight, her earlier confusion forgotten in the joy of her grandmother’s embrace.

Mom comes to a stop, swaying slightly as she regains her balance. She looks around at the group, her smile never faltering despite the mix of concerned and exasperated expressions facing her.

“Hey, kids!” she says cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air. Her gaze lands on Olivia, and for a moment, there’s a flash of confusion in her eyes. But it’s quickly replaced by the same warm, welcoming smile. “And who’s this new face?”

The situation has shifted so quickly that everyone seems momentarily stunned into silence. Hope is the first to recover, stepping forward with a nervous laugh.

“Grandma Emily, this is my friend Olivia,” she says, gesturing towards the redhead. “She’s just visiting for the day.”

Mom laughs a loud, hearty sound that echoes across the lawn. “Well, I’ll be,” she says, her words slightly slurred. “I’m surprised Erica was willing to let a stranger anywhere near my boy. She usually keeps Jason under lock and key!”

Erica’s jaw tightens, her blue eyes flashing with barely contained irritation. “It wasn’t up to me. Apparently, Amelia gave Hope permission.”

Hope shifts uncomfortably, avoiding her aunt’s piercing gaze.

Zelda, still nestled in Mom’s arms, wrinkles her nose and looks up at her grandmother with wide, curious eyes. “Grandma,” she asks innocently, “why do you smell funny?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment, heavy with implications. Mom looks down at Zelda, her eyes softening with affection despite the slight sway in her stance. “Oh, sweetie,” she says, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone, “that’s because Vivian fell asleep during fun hour. Now I want to play with my favorite grandkids!”

I step forward quickly, my voice gentle but firm. “Come on, Mom,” I say, reaching out to take Zelda from her arms. “Don’t say it like that.”

As I lift Zelda, I catch a whiff of the whiskey on Mom’s breath. Erica moves closer, her hand coming to rest possessively on the small of my back. I can feel the tension radiating from her body, a stark contrast to the forced smile on her face.

Erica’s eyes soften as she looks at me and Zelda, still covered in mud but giggling in my arms. A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips, replacing the tension that had been there moments before.

“Come on, you two,” she says, her voice warm and filled with affection. “Let’s go give Zelda a bath, and then she can show Daddy how good she is at Peach Party.”

At the mention of Peach Party, both Zelda and I light up. The games have been a favorite in our household for years.

“You’ve been showing her how to play?” I ask Erica, surprise and delight evident in my voice.

Erica shakes her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Nope,” she says simply.

I turn back to the group still gathered on the lawn, waving with my free arm. “It was nice to meet you, Olivia,” I call out.

Olivia waves back, a small smile on her face. “You too.”

As I turn away, Zelda nestled in my arms and Erica’s hand warm on my back, I hear Hope’s voice drift across the lawn.

“Wow, Olivia, you really do kinda look like my dad. That’s funny.”