Page 106 of The Summer of Us

“I will.” Then she picked up a small bag. “I got you something.”

I took the bag, filled with curiosity. I loved buying Sunny presents and did so regularly. She deserved to be spoiled. Her gifts were rarer. She said I was hard to buy for, but the truth was, I had all I wanted. Usually her gifts came in the form of a new kind of biscuit or something lacy she would wear for me. Those, I had to confess, were my favorite gifts.

But this bag was too heavy for lacy. I reached in and pulled out a small pot, containing a plant. I frowned at the odd gesture, then looked at Sunny. Her expression was bright, her eyes luminous.

“Um, thank you?” I murmured. “For my desk?” I guessed.

She shook her head. “I want to plant it about ten feet that way.” She pointed toward the house.

“Oh. Another willow?”

“Yes,” she said. “A baby willow. I thought we could plant it in recognition of the one you planted.” As she finished speaking, she bit her lip, looking nervous.

“But I haven’t planted…” My voice trailed off as her words sank in. I gaped at her. A baby willow. For the baby I had planted. In her.

A tear slipped down her cheek as I stared at her. Sweet, warm, anticipating, leaning on her tree, one hand resting on her stomach as the news—the wonderful, amazing news—she had to share with me took shape in my head.

Then she was in my arms and we were laughing, crying, kissing—celebrating. I cupped her face. “We’re having a baby?” I confirmed.

“Yes.”

“Are you all right?”

“Aside from being tired, yes. The doctor told me to rest a little more.”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

“I knew you would.”

I kissed her again, holding her close.

“I’ll plant the tree tomorrow.”

She laid her head on my chest. “I thought maybe we could make a whole grove someday.”

I dropped a kiss to her head. “One, two, six. Whatever we decide. Whatever we’re blessed with.” My voice became thick. “I already have more than I dared to dream of.”

She snuggled closer. “I love you, Linc.”

I held her, my mind rampant, my thoughts a mass of jumbled emotions—mostly good, but one doubt I needed her to ease.

“Will I be a good father?” I asked, allowing my fear to show. “I didn’t have a good role model.”

“Which is why you’ll be amazing. You will give this child everything you didn’t have. I think you’ll love this child—all our children—endlessly. You’re patient and kind. Caring. Generous.” She sighed. “Just like your mother.”

I kissed her again. She always knew what to say. I caressed her stomach with the wonder that, beneath my hand, our child was growing. Still tiny and fledgling. But there. Right under my hand.

“I love you,” I murmured, bending low. “I already love you.” I met Sunny’s tender stare. “Thank you.”

Sunny covered my hand with hers. Then she smiled.

And all was right with my world.

* * *

Four years later

I turned my chair, staring across the street, the stress of the last meeting melting away. Sitting at the table in the window of the bakery across the street was my daughter. The light caught her golden curls, her feet swinging furiously as she babbled away to my wife, who was seated across from her. My daughter clutched something in her hand, and I was certain it would be a biscuit, slathered in jam and butter. Like me, that was her favorite.