Page 51 of Second Time Around

Later, when everyone is bed and Faith is lying asleep and milk-drunk between us in the bed. Josh turns to me.

“Do you ever wish we’d had those tests?” he asks in a low voice. “Just so we would have been more prepared?”

I consider his question seriously. “At the time, I certainly didn’t think so. The tests could only give us a probability, and if it was a high one, I just would have worried.”

“But you could have educated yourself—”

“While worrying.” I glance down at Faith; a milk bubble froths at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe it would have been better to have an inkling. Maybe we could have hit the ground running when she was born. But here we are, Faith is doing well, I’m bouncing back as much as a forty-four-year-old can, and… we’re managing.” I glance at him questioningly. “Aren’t we?”

Josh leans down to press a kiss to Faith’s forehead. “Yes, we are.”

Over the next few days and weeks, we fall into a rhythm. All four kids fight to hold Faith, and within a week, I am back in the garden, working hard to bring our harvest in. Not that we need it—our fridge and freezer are stuffed with food brought by neighbors and parishioners. When we went to church the first Sunday after Faith came home, I didn’t hold her for the entire service or for an hour after. She was passed around like a precious present, everyone oohing and aahing over her.

We are so blessed.

I know there will be hard times ahead. There will be heartache and worry and grief and pain. There will be times when my heart breaks for what is not possible for my daughter, yet I also know there will be times when I will be so fiercely, wonderfully proud of her.

As we enter August, the height of our harvest, the homestead feels as if it is burgeoning with life—children, grownups, glampers, a dog, cats, chickens, pigs, cows, goats, and yes, a goose. She’s growing on me. Well, a little.

The days are full—with work, with laughter, with moments of quiet when I simply stare up at the sky and let myself be still. There is so much to look forward to—planning Bethany and Ben’s wedding, William’s college search, Rose’s growing business, Jack’s becoming a young man, and of course, Faith becoming even more of her own person.

There are issues to resolve, as well—I still don’t know what’s going on with my dad and Jolene, and I sense things will continue to be tense with Emmy on occasion as we plan our children’s wedding together. And as much as I like Mike Landry—and I do—his endless advice does become wearing. I have yet to figure out if he and Diana really did hit it off.

But isn’t that life? The good, the bad, the busy, the boring, all of it together, making this jumbled, complicated, wonderful puzzle.

I am kneeling in the garden, wrist-deep in dirt as I harvest potatoes when Bethany comes to the porch, Faith in her arms. Rose is showing one of the glampers’ children how to collect eggs, Jack and William are helping Josh in the field, and my dad is sitting on the porch with a glass of lemonade. He has finally finishedMidsomer Murders.

“Mom, I think she’s hungry!” Bethany calls as she sways side to side, humming, already an expert.

“Okay, I’m coming.” I finish getting the last of the potatoes out of the dirt, then loop the basket over my arm. I glance over at Rose, who is smiling kindly at an anxious-looking six-year-old boy. The family who arrived to glamp last night is from Washington, D.C., and everything is new to them.

“It’s all right if the eggs have a little dirt on them,” she says, and he blinks up at her nervously.

I smile at my dad as he leans back in his rocking chair. “I’m just closing my eyes,” he murmurs as he tips his head back.

I put the basket of potatoes on the kitchen counter and go to the sink to wash my hands. There are six jars of raspberry jam cooling on top of the stove, and our pantry is already pleasingly full with all sorts of goodies.

“Is it bad if this is making me want a baby of my own?” Bethany asks as she hands Faith over, and I give her a mock glare.

“Wait a little while, please,” I say sternly.

She laughs. “Don’t worry, Mom. I want to become a midwife first.”

“Good.” I kiss the top of Faith’s head, then settle into the window seat to nurse my daughter. Sunshine pours through the window, and Willow jumps up to investigate. She’s been very interested in Faith; Ginger and Marmalade are indifferent, and Max is anxious, as usual.

I watch my daughter drink greedily and smile as I lean my head against the window. Outside, birdsong and laughter float on the summer breeze.

All is right with the world.

***