“My own son,” Jagger groaned, but he was already standing.
“Face it, Jag,” Derek laughed, joining them on the lawn. “We’ve been demoted to backup players.”
Gloria scrambled onto the deck railing. Sienna winced as the little girl wobbled back and forth, kicking her feet. “I’m de cheer… cheer… what’s dat, Mom?” she frowned at Moira.
“Cheerleader, darling.”
“Yeah, dat. Mom says I got goo-lou-lungs!”
What followed was less a soccer game and more organized chaos. George and Crone developed increasingly elaborate victory dances, while Gloria provided running commentary at top volume.
“Go, Uncle C! Go, Georgie! Ugh… run faster, Daaad! You’re slower dan turtle Dobie!”
“Betrayed by my princess,” Jagger clutched his chest dramatically. “My own flesh and blood!”
Gloria’s nose wrinkled. “What’s flesh ’n blood? Does it taste yucky like de green beans Mommy makes?”
“No, like chic’n nuggets,” George said in a serious preacher voice.
The resulting laughter carried Sienna into the kitchen alongside Moira and Sadie with the sounds of the ongoing game drifting through the windows. She smiled as Crone’s deep chuckle mingled with the twins’ constant stream of excited commentary.
“No fair! Daddy’s using his big legs!”
“Uncle C! Do the spinny-kick again!”
“Look! I can do it too—oopsie!”
Moira shook her head as she smiled at Sienna. “The twins adopted Crone the day they met him as babies,” she commented as she handed Sienna a bowl of potatoes to slice. “He didn’t stand a chance against their charm offensive. Now, he’s become their favorite uncle.”
Sienna found herself relaxing in the easy conversation. The simple task of preparing sides was punctuated by the twins’ periodic appearances. Gloria came darting in to “check on decookies,” despite there being none, and George running in to announce each goal with dramatic reenactments.
A small body suddenly pressed against her legs. Sienna looked down to find Gloria hugging her knees with her dirt-smudged face upturned.
“Come see, Aunty Si.” Small fingers tugged at her hand. “It’s a big secret!”
Gloria led her to the living room where her stuffed rabbit sat surrounded by what appeared to be balled-up socks. The little girl climbed straight into Sienna’s lap with a stuffed bunny clutched in her arms.
“Look!” Gloria whispered excitedly. “Mr. Hoppy got babies! Mommy says boy bunnies can’t make babies, but she’s wrong, ’cause look!” She pointed emphatically at the sock-babies. “Dey just popped out! Poof! Like magic!”
“I helped!” George called from the doorway. “De baby bunnies were hiding under my bed.”
“Dat’s where dey were born,” Gloria nodded sagely, patting Mr. Hoppy’s head. “’Cause Georgie’s bed’s special. Dere were monsters but Uncle C scared ’hem with his biiig voice.”
Sienna’s heart expanded at the earnest explanation and at the complete trust in Gloria’s eyes as she shared her “secret”.
“Well,” she rescinded in a serious tone, “maybe Mr. Hoppy is a very special bunny.”
“Dat’s what I said!” Gloria beamed as she snuggled closer. “Uncle C says s‘cial is tops. Like you!” She touched Sienna’s hair gently. “Soft like my dollie’s dress.”
Through the window, Sienna caught Crone watching them with a soft and knowing smile on his lips. He knew what she was experiencing, because these two wonderful little beings had done the same for him. He was right—this was exactly the medicine she needed.
Dinner flowed naturally, punctuated by the twins’ running commentary on everything from the funny trees in their mashed potatoes to George’s detailed explanation of why dinosaurs would make excellent soccer players. Sienna relaxed into the warmth of shared laughter and stories, until somehow she was telling them about her days behind the camera.
“I loved capturing those perfect moments,” she said, surprising herself with the surge of passion in her voice. “Not just the posed shots, but the in-between moments of a model’s genuine laugh, or the way light caught the sweep of fabric.” Her gaze drifted to the twins playing on the carpet with Gloria making her bunny hop while George mimicked her with a toy dinosaur. “Like that.” Her eyes turned dreamy. “Those perfect, unscripted moments of innocent joy.”
An idea unfurled slowly in her mind of starting photography again. Not the stark glamour of fashion photography, but something warmer and intimate—capturing the heart of the Rawhide Ranch community and preserving these precious moments for families and friends. She tucked the thought away, but it left a warm glow of possibility in her chest.
“Come you two little hooligans,” Moira said as the meal finished. “You know what time it is.”
