Page 111 of Play Maker

“The donkey I want to get.”

He looks at me like he’s not sure if I’m joking. Truth is, neither am I. I’m just feeling him out.

“Okay.”

I grin.

“Do donkeys eat snap dragons?” he asks.

I swing my feet and shrug. “We’ll see.”

He laughs as he looks at the list. “Grandpa Dan stays as long as he wants. You can check that off. He’s currently on the dock we just built, feet propped on a cooler, sipping tea and talking to Jane about our unborn baby, like she’s up there helping God put some finishing touches on him or her.”

“Would it freak you out if I said I’m sure she is?”

He shakes his head. “Nope,” He looks back at the list then the windchimes by the kitchen door. “They’re hung and tangle every time it storms.”

“And I love that.”

“Me, too.” He presses a kiss to my cheek and chuckles as he reads, “Cook together on that old stove and don’t burn the place down.”

I make a check mark with my finger. “It was just smoke.”

“Dance in the kitchen to whatever song plays.” Now he makes a check mark. “You cried.”

“Because it felt like everything I ever dreamed came true.”

“Did it?” he asks.

“Check, check, check, check.” I make a dozen check marks in the air.

“Make our bed every morning.” He winks. “Check. We do that after we make it even messier.”

“Build a life where we can breathe easy.” I look at him.

He replies, “Lo, I’ve never breathed easier.”

“We’ve made it through the list. Gotta add one more thing.” I pull a pen out of my hoodie pocket and place the paper on his chest as I write, “Get married on the dock, ASAP. This bump is getting too big to hide, and I don’t want to hide it after pictures.”

I hold it up, and he reads it. “We have the place. Let me know when you have the time.”

“Mags comes home from that awful show in two weeks. Think we can have a welcome home/wedding right here?”

He takes the pen and writes a little heart on the paper where a check would go.

* * *

With two, new, full-time paid summer interns, along with Greer manning the new security system from the place she keeps asking to buy and the fact Riley and I can check in at any time through an app, I’ve taken the time off to get our home prepared and, yeah, to spend with my man before the season begins. Riley, too. She’s nesting like I’ve never seen, and Hudson, he’s far worse in the most beautiful way. We meet to check on the seasonal brews with Jackson, who hasn’t left town to disappear wherever it is he goes since the Vegas game.

Neither Kolby nor I want to hire out the work and walk away. We want to touch every part of it. Still, we do enlist a few local kids to help mow and mulch, a few more to stain the fencing and trim of the house. Seems every day one of them brings a friend who’s on the football team or a sibling they’re supposed to watch while their parent is working. And at the end of the day, we’re sharing a meal in the yard, tossing a football, or playing cornhole. We love it, but what makes it even better is that Grandpa is surrounded by young people, and they treat him with the respect of a man who has dedicated his life to caring for people deserves. He is more alive than I have seen him since before Grandma Jane got sick.

Hudson, Boone, and Skinner spend a lot of time helping Dad, Grandpa, Jackson, and Kolby expand the outdoor deck and put together the outdoor kitchen my future husband dreams of grilling on when we host family dinners here at Brooks Farm.

I run my hand over the curve of my belly—small, but no longer a secret. My tank top clings in a way it didn’t a few weeks ago, and when I catch my reflection in the glass of the French doors, I don’t hate it. I look settled. Soft in a way I haven’t let myself be in years.

Inside, Grandpa hums to himself while setting out mismatched silverware and placemats, each piece tugged from a box we found in the attic labeled“Jane’s Good Things.”Her photo albums line the sideboard now, each page a breadcrumb trail of the life that used to live in these walls. We’ve followed them like a map. We plan to rebuild her garden bed, one at a time.

When Kolby said we’d make this ours, I didn’t know he meanthonor what was.I didn’t know he’d trim every overgrown branch like he was making room for air to breathe life into it again. I didn’t know he’d add a dock so perfectly measured and placed because he knew Mom and Dad exchanged their vows on one.

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