“Is your brother joining us?” my dad asks Grey.
He answers with a grunt.
I’m not sure what that means, but the other day, the three of them—my husband, father, and Bran—argued over Sonny’s future and whether he’d be a football player, hockey star turned metal tsar, or a military pilot.
Meanwhile, Ingrid and I debate whether everyone would be more comfortable inside or on the back deck. “Never thought we’d have such a big group up here again. It’s a lovely evening. I think I’ll enjoy dining alfresco.”
“Are you sure? The bugs might come out around dusk.”
She waves her hand. “I’ll light some citronella candles.”
I don’t argue because I’m lapping up these summer evenings on the lake, but I don’t want my dad to complain about mosquitoes. Then again, since coming up here, he’s been surprisingly relaxed.
“The sunset from here is spectacular. We’ll just have to pace ourselves because it won’t be for another hour or so,” Ingrid adds.
Ingrid takes steaks off the grill, and I bring out the cold salads and dinner rolls.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Bran?” I ask. “Wait? Where is Grey?”
“What’s that?” Dad points to the sky as the golden hour paints the glassy lake with a warm glow.
Overhead, an airplane loops and swoops, emitting a puff of fluffy white clouds. From them, letters take shape.
Ingrid gets to her feet and I follow her to the deck rail. My father’s hand finds its way to my shoulder as we watch the airplane doing skywriting.
I see letters, but I can’t read the words.
“Oh, this is so romantic,” Ingrid says.
“Indeed,” Dad adds.
I gave him a side-eye. When did he ever think anything was romantic?
Ingrid beams. “And to think, it’s Pierce’s plane.”
“But what does that say?” I ask. To me, it looks like a bunch of random letters.
Ingrid says, “Gifte seg med meg igjen.” I don’t understand for a long moment.
Then sounds take shape in my mind when she repeats the words, followed by my name.
Sonny points at the sky, calling, “Onk, Onk, Onk!”
“Do you mean oink?” I ask, nuzzling him.
“Onk Bran. He’s my new best friend. He’s getting a puppy. We’re naming him Pupaya.”
“Papaya?” Ingrid asks.
“No, pup, like puppy,” Sonny says.
I laugh and then go quiet. “Wait. Sonny, how do you say ‘Marry me again?’” Word search answers shift into place. My breath catches in my throat. “I think—” My pulse races.
Ingrid and my dad exchange a smile as realization drops, but I can’t quite believe it.
“Are Grey and Bran up there?”
“Yep, in their father’s plane.”
