anger, and uncertainty fall away. And all that’s left is the feeling of my wife’s heart beating against the palm of my hand.
PART II
Chapter 10
Dean
November 21
When Archer and I were kids, The Castle tree house was our fortress against everything bad. Pirates, monsters, evil aliens, robbers, comic-book villains. Most of the time we won the epic battles. Sometimes we didn’t.
Sometimes Archer got sucked into the lava pit encroaching from an exploding volcano. Sometimes I fell into a swamp of hungry crocodiles, or we both went down from laser gun blasts. Sometimes we fought against each other, but mostly we fought on the same side. Sometimes I saved him, or he saved me. Other times we couldn’t save each other.
But we always knew what the threat was. We could see it. Godzilla, a horde of zombies, stormtroopers, a mutated kraken, fire-breathing dragons. We knew how to defend ourselves, and we were always armed. We were always ready.
Always.
After the doctor’s appointment, Liv and I stop at the grocery store before picking Bella up from preschool and Nicholas from kindergarten. They’re both happy to see us, and Nicholas immediately launches into a recitation of everything he did that day, from having cupcakes for a fellow student’s birthday to mastering the monkey bars at recess. We return to the Butterfly House for the afternoon.
“Let’s have a picnic for dinner,” Liv says impulsively, after Nicholas has finished his homework. “It’s warm enough, and I’ll bet they’re serving hot chocolate at the park.”
“Awesome.” Nicholas does a victory jump and rushes to find his shoes.
Liv packs a picnic dinner, I load up the sports bag of balls and Frisbees, and we drive to Wizard’s Park to take advantage of the unseasonable warmth.
It’s a chilly but perfect evening—reddish clouds spreading over the sky, people dotting the grass, a soccer game in progress, wind drifting across the water. There’s a line of children in front of the hot chocolate stand.
We have a favorite spot near a bear topiary that overlooks the busy playground and the glittering expanse of the lake. I spread out the picnic blanket, while Liv takes the kids to the swings and jungle gym.
I watch them from a distance, keeping my gaze on Nicholas’s green sweatshirt and Bella’s purple coat amidst the crowd of children as they navigate the wooden bridge on the play structure and speed down the slide.
A sudden memory pushes forward of a time when Nicholas got so sick from the flu that he ended up in the emergency room. I’d thought at the time it would be the greatest terror I’d ever face.
But now there are countless terrors clawing through me.
“Hot chocolate after dinner,” Liv announces, approaching from the playground behind Bella and Nicholas. “My treat.”
She flops down beside me. A few strands of hair have escaped her ponytail and fall around her face.
I look away and rummage in the picnic basket for a chicken sandwich. I hand it to Liv, then unwrap peanut-butter sandwiches for the kids. We pass around grapes and potato chips, watching the activity of the park as we eat.
“Come on, Nick-Nack.” Liv rises to her feet and picks up the Frisbee. “If you win, you can have extra whipped cream on your hot chocolate.”
“Sweet!” Nicholas jumps to his feet and follows her a short distance away, where they start tossing the Frisbee back and forth.
Bella busies herself meticulously plucking grapes off the stem and arranging them into a pile. I watch her, struck anew by how much she looks like Liv, right down to the shape of her eyes. She’s like Liv in her strength too, her pursuit in getting what she wants, only Bella is more vocal and stubborn. Liv’s strength is quieter, but no less profound.
I turn my attention from my daughter to my wife. Liv is laughing, her ponytail flying behind her as she runs after the Frisbee.
She jumps to catch it, her beautiful body arching like a rainbow. She’s wearing yoga pants and a faded King’s University shirt that clings to her torso, outlining every curve. Her hips. Her rear. Her waist. Her breasts.
Her breasts. Her full, perfect, gorgeous breasts.
Pain and terror seize my chest, so hard that for a second I can’t breathe. The world darkens. Liv vanishes from my line of sight.
There’s a soft touch on my arm. My daughter’s voice filters through the dull roar in my ears. I inhale and focus on her. She’s holding out a fistful of grapes.
“Gapes, Daddy,” she announces.
“Thanks, honey.” I take a few grapes