All the Waters of the Earth

Epilogue

Four years later

"Come here, girl," I crooned, as I plucked my daughter gently out of the stroller. Three months old, she fit in the crook of my arm, right on my bicep. As she liked to do, Lucy had decked her out in pink fluff, a pink band around her head taming her mass of dark hair. My wife liked to do the frou frou with her daughters. Natalie was still little and Lucy could treat her like a doll, dressing her up without objection. With brown eyes like her mama, my little baby girl sleepily rested her head on my shoulder.

Chelsea, my four year old, had run ahead of us and was now swinging on the swing set, free and wild. Her hair was up in two ponytails on the side of her head. She wasn't as pinked out as her sister, wearing a comfy dress over striped pants. She didn't let Lucy dress her up these days; she liked to dress herself. Pumping her legs, going higher and higher, she giggled in delight.

I had left the house—and taken everyone with—to give Lucy some quiet time to write. She had a new idea for a book and was excited to get going. Even though she had a string of major successes with her latest writing, she still pushed herself to try new things, to challenge herself. So I had taken the kids and a diaper bag—it was amazing how much crap they needed—and walked down to the playground at the beach. She had said that she would come and join us after she made progress on her book so that we could get a ride back up the hill.

I'd settled on a bench where I could watch Chelsea and hold the baby, while talking to Roberto, who had come along.

"Dad?"

I looked over at Rob. Sixteen years old, he normally was too cool to hang out with me and Lucy and his sisters, wanting to spend time with his friends. But today they weren't picking him up until this afternoon and he decided to come with. Frankly, I was glad he did. Today was a tough day for me: the anniversary of my brother Ethan's death. I was glad to not be alone any more—the more people around the better. I was done with being by myself.

Losing him didn't get any easier. His memory just got a little quieter. And I learned that celebrating his life was important, but it was also important to be here now, present, with the ones I loved-and that didn't take anything away from his life.

Over the years, Rob and I had come pretty close and when he had started calling me "Dad," well, it was the best.

"Yeah?" I answered.

"How do you know when a girl likes you?"

He had grown, from a skinny, gangly kid, to a handsome young man, still bookish, but now with some serious style. Taking after his mom, his hair was always very cool, his clothes sharp, and he looked good. But he was a nice kid, sweet and smart.

I smiled. The fact that he trusted me enough to ask was everything. "You got me, son. I have no idea. They're mysteries." My eye caught Chelsea's, who had hopped off the swing set and was now headed to a slide. "But they're worth it."

"I want to take her to the movies, but I don't know if I have enough from my allowance." I shifted Natalie to my other arm. Rob didn't know yet that he was taken care of. The money from my grandparents sat in a trust to be divided equally between him, his two sisters, and also his half-sister Ella, Carlos's daughter. Lucy had asked for that, not wanting Rob and his sister to be treated differently, and I agreed. Rob was part mine now, if not legally adopted, definitely in spirit.

"Who is she?" I asked.

"A girl at school. She's quiet, but I like her."

"I'll give you money to take her to the movies," I offered. "Will you babysit the girls so I can take your mom out?"

He nodded. "Deal."

"Cool."

We sat on the park bench, watching Chelsea play with a little boy who looked about her age and a little girl who looked a little bit older. It was the weekend, but these days, I had plenty of time to spend with my family. My job at the courthouse suited me. I felt like I helped people, but I didn't work crazy hours.

I also had time to paint. My first show at the schoolhouse collective in Ventura went well; I actually sold all but one of the paintings. And with that success, Lucy persuaded me to do a show of pictures of her. I had been worried that they were too intimate, but she was right; the very intimacy gave them the spark they needed. And since she had been a model, she wasn't embarrassed. She loved them.

It's amazing that I worked so hard for as long as I did. Before, I didn't know how to live; I just existed. Now? This was living: watching my kids play at the park and talking with my son.

And then Lucy pulled up in her car.

Emerging from the car, I gazed at my wife.

She was so fucking hot.

Compact, yes. Curvy, fuck yes. So, so beautiful. She took good care of herself.

But more, she was wise. She was sassy. She loved deep and she gave herself to me.

I loved her. More each day.

She always wore high heels, today at the park was no exception; she had one some sort of sandals, along with little shorts and a pretty top. School would be out soon and it was warm out.

She smiled and ruffled Rob's hair, which he protested, then leaned over and kissed me. Then she picked up Natalie, cradling her.

"All good?" she asked me, rubbing her nose into Natalie's hair.

I looked around.

"Yeah," I said. "All good."