A little girl with Derek’s eyes and my wild hair runs barefoot through the orchard, cheeks pink from the breeze. Laughter trails behind her like falling leaves as our daughter barrels toward her father.
He lifts her into the air like she’s weightless, spinning her once before settling her on his shoulders. She squeals and points to a ripe apple dangling from a high branch, and he plucks it with one hand, handing it to her with a smile only she gets to see.
The sun is bright. The sky a wash of endless blue. The trees that line the river are beginning to turn, flames of gold and red dancing in the breeze.
And for one fragile breath, I believe in that future.
But hope is a dangerous thing. So I tuck the dream away—where it’s warm, and safe, and mine.
Emma leans forward. “You know, when I first arrived here, you showed me the hidden swimming hole, the secret blackberry thickets… You made me feel at home. Now it’s my turn to guide you back.”
My vision wobbles. I blink hard, chasing away tears.
“I’ll remember that,” I whisper.
She pulls me into a hug, her belly pressing between us, steady as a heartbeat, anchoring me in a way nothing else can.
For the first time since I returned, something in my chest unclenches.
“Well, you’re here now,” Emma says, her smile a warm sunrise. “And just in time. This little one needs her aunt around. And so does Albert. Hey—maybe you can help deliver her?”
Deliver a baby? I haven’t done that since school. Still, my heart swells.
“Her?” I murmur, lips curving. “You found out?”
She nods, rubbing her belly. “A few weeks ago. Eric’s already planning riding lessons.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a glow there that makes my chest ache.
A contraction ripples across her face, and she winces.
“Breathe through it,” I say without thinking, slipping into nurse mode—voice low, hands gentle. “Slow and steady.”
Before she can respond, the hallway door creaks. Dr. Marvey peeks in. “Come on in, Mrs. Waters.”
We both look up—Emma expectant, me confused—until I remember. She took on my brother’s last name.
Emma groans and laughs. “That’s our cue, Annabelle.”
She turns to me, eyes shining with mischief. “Come see this.”
“Me?”
“You’re family.” She takes my hand into hers. “And you brought fritters. Besides, I might need backup.”
I hesitate, then nod. “Lead the way.”
Dr. Marvey guides us to the exam room. The light inside is soft, quiet. Moments later, the baby’s heartbeat echoes through the speaker—a steady drum in the hush.
The monitor flickers to life.
A tiny form appears, curled in shadow, limbs flexing in the blur of ultrasound.
“She’s perfect,” I breathe.
Emma’s eyes glisten. “Thank you for being here.”
“Always.”
