“I like this,” Connor said. “This is what a Fourth of July should be.”
“I know. Everyone together. Everyone happy.”
Down the road a toddler began to cry.
“Almost everyone,” Connor said.
Sadie leaned forward in time to see the dark-haired little mite picked up and lifted to the shoulders of his father, a man she recognized from around town but didn’t know well. The little boy’s tears turned to smiles instantly.
“All better,” she declared to Connor. “All he needed was his daddy.”
Connor took her hand. “I’m going to be there for you and this baby forever. I promise you that.”
“I know.” Sadie never doubted Connor’s love, and she thought that was the sweetest part of being married. Knowing you had found one secure thing. Not that she would ever take Connor for granted, she told herself. After losing her mother so early, she knew you had to value every day you got with the ones you love.
She placed a hand on her belly, shut her eyes and promised her unborn child she’d make the most of every day they had together. She would make sure her baby knew it was loved. That was all she could do.
“I think the parade is coming,” Cass exclaimed from a few seats away. “See, Emily? There they are!” She pointed her finger. Emily blinked sleepily.
Next year she’d hold her baby and show her the parade, Sadie told herself. She turned to Connor, who was looking at her with so much love in his eyes she thought her heart would burst. He took her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed his back.
“I can’t wait,” he told her.
“Neither can I.”
And they both turned to watch the first marching band approach.
“You rest here. I’ll go get us some lunch,” Hunter told Jo at noon, when they’d found a patch of grass large enough for the family to settle on. Brian and Logan were already setting up the sunshades. Connor had fetched all the camp chairs they’d used earlier at the parade and then returned to the trucks and brought another huge armful he was placing at intervals.
“You know Cass packed a ton of food,” Jo said, but she sat down, her large belly making it awkward to settle in the camp chair Connor had set up for her a moment ago.
“I know. Don’t worry—I’ll eat some of that, too, but I want some butter chicken nachos.”
“That does sound good.”
“Don’t go having that baby while I’m gone.” He touched Jo’s auburn hair, which was loose today and fell in waves around her shoulders. Her pregnancy sat heavily on her small frame, and it was as if the baby had taken all Jo’s reserves for its own use. Her cheekbones were more prominent, her limbs thin while her belly pushed straight out.
Hunter thought she was beautiful, and he marveled daily at the miracle that allowed a woman to produce a new life, carry it safely and tidily around with her for nine months, then birth it into the world, perfect and new.
He couldn’t wait to hold his son in his arms. They’d decided to name him Christopher, which Jo declared was a good, strong, sensible name for a boy. Hunter agreed.
As he walked along the row of booths, he wondered what it would feel like in a few years when his boy was tagging along after him. He had no experiences like that of his own to draw on, never having had a father who was active in his life. Thinking back to his childhood made him remember happy days at Heartfelt Ranch with the Franks, the only place he’d experienced any semblance of normal family life. Hunter realized he’d recreated that with the others at Two Willows. At any given time, it bustled with laughter, friendship and family.
He didn’t need to worry about his child ever feeling alone. Chris would grow up surrounded by aunts and uncles, a grandfather and cousins galore, by the looks of things. If anything, solitude would be the sensation his boy craved, but there was plenty of room for that on a ranch, too.
One day he’d teach his son to ride, to work with the cattle—to build a house, maybe. He had a lot to offer a child, and that felt good.
Most of all, he had love.
Not love like the hidden, compartmentalized passion his mother had cultivated with her married lover. Open-hearted, acknowledged, reciprocated and celebrated love—the kind he’d always craved.
Maybe it was unfair of him to judge his mother. All the players in that triangle had made their choices, after all. Still, secrecy had consequences, and he shuddered to think how he would have turned out if he hadn’t met Marlon Frank, his mother, Sue-Ann, and the rest of their family to stand in for what he was missing at home.
He made it a practice every day to both tell and show Jo how much he loved her. He never wanted her to wonder, the way he had when he was a child. When their son was born, he’d make sure to express his love and pride to him just as often. No child should wonder if he deserved his place in the world.
He wasn’t worried about failing as a father anymore. Expressions of love came easy when you had a wife like Jo. A true partner who sent as much love his way as he sent hers. The days flew by when they were working, playing or just hanging out together.
God, life was good.
He felt no shame when he looked back at all his choices, either. He’d intervened in Marlon’s life out of care for his friend, and while that intervention had cost him, it had also brought him to Two Willows.
He approached the food tent set up by the women who
