The very next evening, Arthur's dreams took him to the garden beside the homestead. It was morning, but the garden was still covered in the cool shade cast by the cabin, and the dew was still on the petals and leaves of the plants and vegetables.

Eliza and Isaac were walking hand-in-hand and passed him as they entered the big, fenced garden area. And his younger self followed them and closed the gate behind them. He didn't have his hat on, and he was dressed in relaxed blue jeans and a faded soft green shirt.

They kept Buster outside the fence, and though he didn't whine, he plopped down beside the fence to wait for his friend.

Isaac immediately removed his little shoes and got down in the soft, dark dirt between the rows of plants on his belly. His mother set her thatched basket down and held her belly as she slowly sat criss-cross beside him.

"Get down, Mama! Come down here with me," Isaac waved for her to join him.

"Oh, Mama can't lie with you on her belly like she used to do right now," she said. "Daddy will. Can Daddy do it with you?"

"Yeah," he nodded and waved him over. "Come on, Daddy."

Arthur got down on his knees and lied on his belly in the empty row of dirt across from Isaac. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked through the plants at his little son. "All right, what we got here?" he drawled. "Tell me what I'm lookin' at."

"Well…" Isaac began, "we got bug plants and people plants."

"What you mean?"

"Plants for bugs, and plants for people! So the bugs eat the leaves on their own plants an'…an' not the people plants."

"Ah. So what kinda bug plants you got?"

"Tomalalitos…"

"Tomatillos," Eliza said.

"An' radisses."

"Radishes," she smiled.

"Okay," Arthur glanced at her with a chuckle. "And what kinda bugs are these crawlin' all over the bug plants?"

"Aphids…and ladybuds…"

"Ladybugs," Eliza giggled and scrunched her nose.

"An' cattypillers. Those are my favorite. 'Cause they're fuzzy. But Daddy, they don't look like kitties," he shook his head.

"No?" he laughed.

"No. But they like to crawl on you, see? And it tickles. And they don't bite. And they make a home for themselves, and they turn into budderfies."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"What about rabbits?"

"Um, bunnies…juss eat everything. So you juss have to keep 'em out. Even though I like 'em." He chuckled along with his dad.

As Arthur watched Isaac, he felt Eliza's hand rest on his calf, her thumb stoking him gently through his jeans. And he looked over to see her watching Isaac with a smile.

He looked back at Isaac. "Hey, you sure are a smart kid. You remember all that?"

"Mommy taught me," he mumbled, still focused on the caterpillar.

"Yeah, Mommy's a good teacher, huh?" he said, his gravelly voice warm.

"Mm-hm," he nodded. "I bet she's the best in the whole world."

"Oh, I'm sure she is," he said in his low, playful-but-still-completely-serious tone that he only ever brought out for Isaac, and Eliza smiled his direction.

He looked back at Isaac and watched his lashes, fanned out as they were atop his cheeks while he concentrated on replacing the delicate caterpillar. "After you put that caterpillar back on the leaf, you know what your next job is?"

"Huh?"

"Come over here an' give Daddy a kiss."

Isaac's face immediately relaxed into a smile, and he did as he was bade, getting up and walking the few steps barefoot in the soft dirt around the plants to his father.

They played their usual kiss-tag back and forth, speeding up until finally Isaac grabbed his face and pressed his lips to his cheek hard and not letting up for a good several seconds.

When he finally pulled away, he looked up into his eyes and said with a bright smile, "That's a tillion, fillion, quadra-mamillion kisses right there."

"Oooohh! I bet I can beat ya!"

"No!" Isaac smiled and gave his head a shake. "Unh-uh!"

"You don't wanna play this game with me," he looked at him from the corner of his eyes.

"No, you can't beat me!" he giggled. And when he moved to kiss him again, his father turned quicker and planted a kiss on his cheek before he could, sending a chirping cackle flying out of him.

Again and again they'd turn away as if not looking at each other, then Isaac would quickly try to kiss him, but his father would beat him to it with a kiss on his cheek.

Finally Arthur dug his fingers into Isaac's sides and tickled him, and he writhed and jolted and cackled wildly. Every time his breathing would calm and he'd sigh in a low, weary tone, his father would pick right back up tickling him.

Eliza laughed and giggled at the sight of them tickle-wrestling. When Arthur began to turn on his back with Isaac still in his arms, she gasped, "Don't roll on the tomato plants!"

He quickly froze and slowly began to roll back forward, causing Isaac to laugh and Eliza to giggle and sigh in relief with a hand to the side of her face.

"You're both too much," she said through clenched teeth, reaching out and pinching Isaac's big toe.

Arthur was limp where he stood watching the trio, his heart a soggy, aching mess. "I think this is one a' the things I miss the most. 'Cause we…we never quite had this. Did we? Never had you callin' me 'Daddy.' Never had Eliza and I lookin' at each other quite that way, so easy an' natural. Never had so many free kisses an' smiles from the most beautiful boy in the world."

"You ready to check for eggs?" his younger self asked while Isaac's breathing smoothed and calmed.

"Yeah," he smiled, still bit by the giggle bug, and still a bit wary of where his father's hands were at all times.

They stood, Arthur helped Eliza up to her feet, and the three of them walked over to the edge of the garden that shared a fence with the chicken coop. As Eliza and Isaac sat down again in the soft dirt of the garden, Arthur hitched one leg after the other up over the fence and went and ducked into the hen house, bringing back two handfuls of eggs. He leaned over the fence and gently handed them to Eliza, who brought them down into her lap to wipe them clean with her apron.

Isaac quickly came close and peeked into her lap, carefully taking one of the brown eggs in his little hand. "They got freckles on 'em, Mama. Like you an' me!"

"Yeah, I guess they do, huh?" she smiled, glancing up at Arthur where he stood leaning against the fence post with his forearms dangling and crossed lackadaisically and she liked the easy grin she saw. "And lots of different people from places all over the world have freckles. Did you know that?"

"What are freckles, anyway?" Isaac cocked his head a bit.

"They're angel kisses," she said quietly.

His eyes grew wide. "Whoa. They musta licked Ollie!" he said, referring to one of the other children in town. "Have you seen his face an' arms?"

His father immediately let out a hearty laugh, and Eliza mumbled a giggle.

"Yeah, I guess they couldn't get enough of Ollie," she smiled. Holding out an egg, she said to him, "Isaac, we wanna talk to you about somethin'. You know how eggs come from the mama chickens?"

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"And you know how, inside the egg, there's somethin' different?" she pointed to the shell.

"Yeah."

"What's inside there?"

"Umm…"

"Come on, you know what's inside there."

"Yeah, I know what's inside, I seen it at breakfast. But I juss don't know what to call it, 'cause it's also called egg."

His father scoffed a laugh and shook his head. "Sharp as a tack, this kid."

"Oh yeah…" she brought her lips inward. "But, I'm talkin' about somethin' else. Remember a little while ago, we all watched the eggs in the nest hatch…?"

"Yeah," he smiled.

"What was in there?"

"Baby chicks."

"Baby chicks, that's right," she smiled. She sat back and brought a hand to the top of her belly. "Isaac… Mama an' Daddy have somethin' to tell you."

His eyes went wide, and he looked up at her excitedly. "We gonna have more chickies?"

"No," she shook her head. "Not right now."

"Oh."

She bit her lip, watching him continue to look down at the eggs "How… How would you like a baby sister or brother? Would you like that?"

"Um, no."

Her shoulders involuntarily slumped. "No?"

"No tank you."

"Well, I…" she briefly glanced up in concern at Arthur, "I think you'd like that."

"Um, no."

"No?"

"Nope."

"You could play with 'em… Have fun together…"

"No, no, no," he mumbled quietly, still looking down innocently at the eggs, shaking his head. "I like to be your only baby."

"Crap…" Arthur mumbled under his breath. When she looked back up to see him bringing his hand over his mouth and sliding it to the side of his face, he shrugged one shoulder at her and tried to wheeze a chuckle, "Least he's honest." When her mouth hung wordless and daunted, his eyes grew, and mumbling, he gestured to nudge her onward. "Just come straight out with it, Mama."

"Isaac," she licked her lips and looked back down at him, "there's a reason Mama's tummy's gotten so big."

"Oh, I know," he closed his eyes and let his head sag to the side before looking up at her.

"You do?"

He reached out and rested his little hand on her big belly. "You ate too much yummy food. But iss otay. Iss otay. You were really hungies," he patted her belly softly.

"N-nah…" At a loss, she started to shake her head, and Arthur wheezed another laugh, letting his forehead drop into his palm.

"I sawl you," Isaac continued patting her belly. "You were sure hungies. You needed that. Iss otay, Mama. Iss otay. And I love you with all my heart, no matter what you look like."

"W-well…that's good to know…" she started to grin, her brows lifted in amusement.

"Hey! She's beautiful," Arthur said matter-of-factly with stern brows.

"Yup, she sure is," Isaac tried to wink at him inconspicuously, but he ended up batting both eyes as he continued to pat her belly.

"She is!"

"That's what I said," Isaac sang.

Eliza scoffed a laugh and brought her hand to the side of her face. "But no, that's not why my tummy's big, Isaac. Really." She closed her eyes a moment and took a breath. "Mama's havin' a baby. You're gonna have a little sister or brother."

The wheels in his head spun as he slowly looked down at her belly, then up at her face with one crimped brow.

"And the baby's in here," she brought her hands down over her belly.

"Nooo…" his brows came together. "That's silly, Mama."

"Really! I swear. Hey, I want you to bring your mouth real close to my tummy and say, 'Hi, this is Isaac.' Just try it, please?"

With a half-frown, he came close and did as he was bade.

She gasped and smiled. "Works every time. Here, gimme your hand." She quickly brought his little hand to her belly.

His eyes shot to the size of oranges, and he yanked his hand back and scrunched his nose with a funny little wobbly smirk. "Wha-whoooa! How you do dat, Mama?!" He lifted his shirt and looked down at his own bare belly, trying to poke it out and suck it in real fast.

She giggled hard and brought her hand over her mouth while Arthur laughed. "No, no! It's not me! That's what I been trying to tell you! There's a baby in here!"

He grew quiet and studied her gown-covered belly. "W-wow. Really?"

"Really." She quickly pulled her gown up to show the little bumps moving under her skin. "She likes her big brother's voice. Wants to meet you."

His face relaxed into an awestruck smile.

"Well, it could be a boy or girl. We don't know yet. But you'll have lots and lots of fun together. You'll have a best friend built right in to your family. It'll be a good thing. I promise you." As he gazed at her belly, she brought her fingers under his soft little chin. "And you'll be an amazing big brother. I know it."

"How's the baby gonna come out?" his eyes popped up to her.

"Uh, well…"

"Outta here?" he rested a fingertip to her navel.

"Yeah. Sure," she said in a high, wobbly tone, nodding with drawn brows and a relieved grin.

He grimaced sourly. "Ouchie."

"Yeah. Ouchie," she let out an airy laugh. "But Daddy's gonna be there for me. And Miss Addie's gonna come over. And they're gonna make sure everything goes all right. And Mama's gonna be okay."

"Oo, I can show 'im my favorite tree for climbin'! And skip rocks together! And play pirates an' trains! And play with Buster!" the words spilled out of his mouth. "Can you get 'im out tomorrow?"

She chuckled and arranged her gown back over her belly. "No, I don't think it'll be tomorrow. And it could be a brother or a sister, remember? But even if it's a sister, when she grows up a little, you can still show her your tree for climbin'. And all the other stuff too."

"Otay! Imunna go tell Buster, otay?" He quickly got up and ran outside the gate to play with the dog.

Eliza glanced at Arthur with a fatigued look and slumped shoulders as he hopped over the fence and came to help her up. "Whew. Didn't think that was gonna be so hard."

"Eh… He's a sharp kid. With a good heart," he said as she leaned on him and they walked arm in arm together. "Somehow…I don't think havin' two'll always be quite as straightforward an' simple as raisin' one. Least not like we thought."

"Well, we'll figure it out together. Like we do everything," she grinned. She brought her hand to his forearm. "But I really want us to make sure he knows we still love him, just as much. That we'll never forget about him."

"Oh, course," he agreed.

"It's gonna be brand new to him too: bein' a big brother…sharin' our attention…"

"Hmm… I think you worry too much."

"I'm a mother, Arthur," she chuckled. "Ain't that what we're meant to do?"

"Yeah, well…" he brought his hand over hers that rested over his arm and patted it as they reached the porch steps. "You just let us worry over you for a little bit. All right?"

The scene shifted before Arthur to an evening after supper a couple weeks later. He saw Eliza standing at the kitchen counter, while his younger self sat with Isaac going over letters and numbers at the kitchen table. Addie was visiting, probably since it was closer to Eliza's expected due date, and she was helping Eliza replace dishes to the cupboard.

When Eliza let out a little moan and a sigh of air through pursed lips as she brought her hand down over her belly, his younger self quickly took notice.

Since her back was turned to him, he spoke with a calm and even tone, though his expression didn't change. "You doin' all right there, honey?"

"Oh, yes," she waved him off. "Yes, I'm okay. It's nothin'."

But in a few minutes, she was sighing again, looking down and rubbing her belly.

"You're sure you're all right," he said calmly.

"Mm…mm-hm," she nodded.

But in another few minutes, she was gripping the edge of the countertop, leaning forward, and bringing one hand underneath her belly and the other to her lower back.

"All right, I've had about enough a' this," he finally stood. "Addie, get the bed ready, and we'll—"

"It's fine, I'm fine," Eliza breathed with an airy laugh. "Really, it's just indigestion. Nothing to get in a tizzy over."

Arthur's eyes slid over to Addie.

"Eliza dear, why don't you take a walk with me round the table for a bit?" Addie said quietly. "It should help, either way. Hm?"

"All right."

Addie slid her arm into hers, and they began to walk slowly around the table, over and over again, not pausing.

"I think I'm all right now," Eliza finally nodded.

"No, I don't think you are, dear," Addie responded, and they continued walking around the table as Arthur took Isaac into his room and readied him for bed, with Buster following right behind Isaac.

"You need to get your jammies on, Isaac," she called. And she listened with a smile to the sound of Arthur pulling his sleeper onto him.

"One leg…two legs… One arm… Ope—where's the other arm, sprout? Ah, there we go. Now did your mother have to put so many d— darn buttons on this thing?"

At one point Isaac came running up to her. "Mama, where's my teddy?"

"You left it in the chair by your bed."

"Ain't there, darlin'," Arthur said from the bedroom.

"Check…check in the nightstand drawer," she called as Addie turned with her around the table.

"It's here, Isaac," his father called.

He scurried back into his bedroom, then ran back out a couple minutes later with his teddy in one arm, his little round belly buttoned up in his sleeper, and his tiny bare feet padding on the hardwood floor. "Could I have some water peas, Mama?"

"Only one cup." She paused to pour him a little cup from the porcelain pitcher and handed it to him. "Watch you don't spill, okay?"

As she turned though, she immediately heard a little trickle onto the floor and looked back at him. "Oh, honey, did you spill? You gotta hold with two hands—"

"No, no, Mama, it wasn't me. You went peepee on the floor."

She saw him looking down and pointing at a splatter on the floor between her feet. "Oh," she said.

"And now, we really gotta get that bed ready," Addie said. "Arthur, she lost her waters—" she began to call.

"No, no, it's just like Isaac said! I had a full bladder, is all," she shook her head and waved as Arthur came into the room.

"Yeah—labor's really gonna start now," he said, rushing to her and helping her lower herself gently down into a chair that was turned out from the table.

"You're all just makin' too much of a fuss," she wagged her head. "Arthur, all those midwifery textbooks gotcha all riled up. It's nothin'."

"You remember what it was like with Isaac," Addie turned her back to Eliza and whispered to him. "What an ordeal, and how close she was to—"

"I was fine when I had Isaac, and I'm fine now. But it ain't labor," Eliza said, her frustrated tone beginning to rise.

"We're gonna need to boil some water, get the clean cloths ready, take the basin into the bedroom," Arthur began to murmur to Addie quietly, counting on his fingers. "I'll get my pocket watch so we can start timin' contractions…"

"It ain't labor, now!" Eliza finally tried to shout, but a pang shot through her, and she could only breathe it as she winced and held her belly.

"Eliza, honey, you ain't stupid," Addie began. "Enough a' this foolishness—"

But as Arthur watched his wife, he waved her off. "Wait, wait." He came and crouched in front of Eliza as she pursed her lips and let out a breath. The air stilled to a halt as he looked steadily into her eyes while she squirmed in discomfort. And he spoke calmly and slowly. "You do remember how it was with Isaac. You remember."

Her face was crimping with pain as she held his gaze.

"All of it. Vividly." He looked back and forth into her green eyes. "You know you're in labor," he continued. "And you're afraid it'll be like it was then. Or worse." He wasn't asking. And not a word of denial left her lips. "Not afraid. You're terrified."

Her eyes began to swamp with tears, an inadvertent admission that everything he'd said was true. And a confirmation that no matter how hard she tried to shore such things up inside—to be her idea of strong and to keep from being a burden—he knew her better. He could see inside.

The vulnerability that came with the scrutiny of his simple observation was a bit too much in the moment, with everything else her body was starting to go through, and she glanced down.

But he reached out and gently brought his big hand around hers. He didn't use words to ask her to look up at him. He simply waited until she did, knowing she would.

"D'you think I woulda read three different midwifin' books cover to cover, read words I never care to see on a page again…" It had been a bet on his part that he knew her well enough to know she wouldn't be able to hold back a laugh at the comment. And he was glad when he saw a little huff of a laugh escape her through the discomfort.

He smiled and chuckled along with her. Then his eyes demanded hers again. "If I didn't believe in you?"

She swallowed as his gaze again grew serious, his eyes still level with hers.

"But it was all about you," he continued. "The different parts of ya, how they all work together. How wonderful, how strong an' amazin' you are." He nodded. "Those are the words for you."

She looked back and forth between his eyes, her pangs having eased a bit.

"I know you might not feel that way right now. I know you're strugglin' with memories of the pain, and the fear. But I was there. I saw you dig down and pull out all that strength you got stored up inside you, when you thought about Isaac. And meetin' him for the first time. All that joy, just bubblin' up inside us."

Her brows drew tight, and she gave a broken little nod.

"And that's what you gotta think about now. To get you through. You did it once, I know you can do it again. And I'll be right there with you, the whole time. I ain't lettin' nothin' go wrong. I ain't. You just do your best, an' let me take care a' the rest. All right?" He brought his hand up and rested a thumb on her chin as she grinned and nodded. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she whispered with another nod as he began to stand.

"'At's my Eliza," he finally smiled as he stood, keeping his hand around hers.

"Mama, can you sing to me? Could you sing me ni-night, peas?" came Isaac's quiet little plea.

"Isaac, no more stallin'," his father said plainly. "Time for bed. We need you to be a big boy tonight."

But Eliza could see he knew something was different about tonight, that he was antsy to stick around and find out more about what was going on.

"Isaac, sweetie, c'mere," she managed to say through a wave of pain, her face scrunching a bit and beads of sweat starting to collect and slick down her temple.

He took a couple timid little steps closer, his soft brown teddy in one arm and Buster in tow.

"It's like Christmas Eve tonight," she whispered, "but better."

His eyes immediately pulsed wide.

"You go to sleep, and in the mornin', you'll have a baby sister or brother." She lifted her brows and nodded quickly to try to garner excitement. She watched the cogs work in his sweet mind as he looked at her from blue-green doe eyes over a button nose littered with feather-light freckles, and plump little lips.

"Oh…" he finally murmured. "It's your ouchie day?"

"Yeah," she nodded with a bright smile, trying not to cry with the overwhelming number of varied emotions she was being flooded with in the tiny space of a moment. Immense love for Isaac, for her new baby, for her husband who was the only person who was as much a part of them as she was. Untamed, unbridled hope for all of them. Summoning courage for the moments right around the corner.

"Yeah, but…" she licked her lips and sniffed, looking at him with resolve renewed again by her precious son, "Daddy's gonna take real good care a' me. Daddy and Miss Addie. Okay? Don't you worry about me. Just be excited. Real excited. And pray for Mama and baby sister or brother. Remember your prayers?"

"Yeah," he nodded quietly. "Otay, Imunna go start right now." He scurried with Buster to his bedroom and knelt beside his bed, closing his eyes, folding his hands, and whispering hushed, sweet, slow supplications.

Arthur stood beside his younger self and gazed with a soft expression in the direction Isaac had gone. "How'd you get so lucky?" His brows rose when he realized his younger self had said an almost identical thing at the very same time, though replacing 'you' with 'I'.

He watched his younger self pull Isaac's door closed with a calm, "When you're finished, go to sleep, Isaac."

He and Addie helped Eliza stand and walk slowly to the master bedroom, her quiet groans and whines of pain leaving a wake as they closed the door behind them.

It seemed quite a while passed before her grunts and cries started to arise from beyond the door, but they did come. And Isaac's little feet pitter-patted as he quietly emerged from his room with Buster by his side.

He crept to the bear rug before the hearth and sat criss-cross in his pajamas facing his parents' bedroom, listening intently as his mother groaned from the other side.

"Deep breaths, Eliza sweetheart. You're already doin' so great," came his father's voice.

Left out in the sitting room with Isaac, Arthur walked over and popped his head through the closed bedroom door to see the scene by the light of the kerosene lamp: Eliza on the bed in her chemise with her knees bent, his younger self down by her feet, and Addie off to the side as quiet as a mouse as if she weren't even there, as per her and his younger self's agreement.

Eliza's face was red and cinched tight in pain, her blonde hair sticking to the sides of her sweaty face as she grunted and pushed. His younger self's sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and he had a basin of water and bloodied cloths nearby.

Arthur retreated from through the door and turned to look at little Isaac. "Should you be listenin' to this, bud? Thought your daddy told you to go to sleep."

Isaac was hunched over with his cheeks resting on the heels of his hands and his elbows on his lap, with Buster lying with his chin on the floor beside him. When an unsettling yelp and outcry arose from beyond the door, Buster let out a quiet, squeaky little whine as he lifted and cocked his head, and Isaac looked up at the door.

"Pain, Arthur. Serious. Pain."

"I know, darlin'."

"Ha! That's a funny thought, but no. No, you don't know," she shouted low with an ominous growl.

More groaning and crying.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean that!" she finally let out in a high, airy tone and broken sobs.

"It's all right. Don't give it a second thought—"

"Please don't leave me! Don't go!"

"I'm right here with you, honey. I ain't goin' anywhere."

"You're my best friend, Arthur, you're my best friend!"

"And you're mine, Eliza. And it breaks my heart to splinters to see you like this. But you're gonna get through this."

"But if I don't…" she sniffed, "if I don't make it—"

"Quit talkin' like that, now, you're only gonna scare yourself," he said hastily.

"But if I don't, I mean if I don't… I just wanna know that I meant somethin' to you," she began to ramble, "and I want you to know I love you with…with all my h-heart and soul," she broke down sobbing.

Quiet.

"Eliza. Honey. Eliza. I need you to focus."

Arthur had expected it to be Addie's voice finally chiming in, but it was his own, in a quiet tone.

"Nothin' means more to me than you, Isaac, and this baby. But you're tremblin' with pain, I got things comin' outta you in three different places. Now, I…" he took a breath, "I ain't a doctor. But I ain't gonna let you slip away. You're nowhere close to that. All right? Honest. I know you're light-headed, but I need you to keep breathin' for me. Focus on that, all right? Here, take few sips a' water…"

Standing outside the door, Arthur rubbed his neck and came to sit beside Isaac and Buster on the bear rug, making an antsy trio. Another couple hours came and went, with Eliza's groaning, grunting, and yelping arising in intervals. Before long, Isaac had slumped down with Buster behind him as his pillow.

"One last good push, Eliza. You're almost there," came the words in his father's voice.

His mother grunted and squealed. And suddenly there was a new sound.

A baby wailing.

Isaac perked up.

"She's here! A girl. It's a girl…" The deep relief and joy in his father's voice were palpable.

Arthur hopped up to his feet with an exclamatory whoop. "Ha! I'm a father for the second time! Father to a daughter…" he grinned.

"Oh, Arthur! She's so beautiful. So sweet and precious. Look at her…"

As Arthur stood there looking at the bedroom door, it grew quiet and remained so for several minutes. He finally decided to poke his head through the door to have another peek.

And he saw Eliza with his younger self sitting on the bed beside her, both quietly gazing down in sweet bliss at their newborn daughter, clean and content, wrapped in her mother's arms.

"Hope," his younger self said with a soft smile.

Eliza looked up at him with the same expression.

"She's got her mama's beautiful eyes," he whispered.

"And her daddy's big heart," she said after she'd looked back down at her. But she could feel him open his mouth in protest.

"Got it backwards again, darlin'."

She looked back up at him and spoke ever so softly and slowly. "Arthur, this is the second time you've stood by me when I needed you most. When I was the most scared, in the most pain, and…the most exposed. When there was really nothin' to benefit you from stayin'. When most men woulda run away." She brought her hand to rest gently on his cheek. "Don't argue."

He began to smirk. "You're 'too tired to scold me so fiercely?'"

It was a hearkening back to a comment of hers on the night she bore Isaac. And she smiled wide, causing him to chuckle.

"Yes. Much too tired. And you are too, I know it."

"Well…still got work to do," he sighed, beginning to sit back and straighten. "Gotta start cleanin' up, get ready for the afterbirth, and—"

"I'll take care of it," Addie said, smiling as she walked over. "You both did well. Just enjoy this, the three of you." She reached over and rested a fingertip to Hope's pink cheek. "You were right…Eliza dear. I don't know how you knew. But you were right about 'im. He's a keeper."

Eliza smiled brightly and looked at Arthur, but he only slowly looked up at Addie.

"Proved himself many times over tonight." Addie smiled at Hope, her eyes watering. "And I know now… I can trust you'll be just fine."

Still leaning through the closed bedroom door to watch the scene, Arthur squinted and looked down. "Afterbirth?" he muttered to himself, finally shaking his head and retreating back through the door to turn and smile at Isaac, gesturing to the door. "Got a little sister, kid."

About another hour passed, and Isaac had finally drifted off, slumped down asleep with Buster as his pillow when his father emerged from the room, sleeves still rolled to the elbows and a bloodied basin in hand.

"Isaac?" he whispered as his son started to rustle awake. "What're you doin' up? You're supposed to be in bed asleep."

"Well, you could hardly expect the kid to get any shut-eye with all that racket," Arthur chuckled and shook his head.

His younger self quickly took the basin to the kitchen table, walked over, and crouched before him just as Isaac was beginning to sit up and rub his eyes.

"Is Mommy otay?" he mumbled groggily.

"Yeah, she's all right," he nodded softly. "Just real tired and sore." An easy grin began to appear on his mouth. "You got a baby sister." He watched his son's eyes pop up to meet his. "Wanna meet her?"

Isaac nodded.

With his next blink, Arthur was standing at the opposite end of the bed in the master bedroom when his younger self opened the door and popped his head in.

"Got a visitor," he said with a grin.

"Oh, okay," Eliza said, looking down to finish nursing Hope and adjust the bodice of her nightgown. "Give us just a few seconds."

When she looked up and nodded, he opened the door wider to reveal their little son's golden head.

"Isaac!" she whispered with a bright smile. "My heart fluttered just at the sight of you, honey. C'mere, sweetheart."

He began to take a step into the room but paused, turned, and bent to address Buster behind him. "You gotta stay here, boy," he whispered, shaking his finger. "Otay? I'll be back."

When the dog whined to follow him, he added, "No, no, gotta stay here."

"He can come in with you, Isaac, it's okay," she said. "Just gotta be quiet."

He turned and took timid little steps into the room as Buster entered and sat near the footboard. Arthur's big hand came gently behind Isaac's head as he walked up towards his mother where she lay sitting up and propped with lots of pillows behind her.

But his steps slowed as the tiny bundle in her arms came into view by the light of the kerosene lamp. "Um, um," he pointed, "iss really a baby?"

"Yeah," she whispered with a smile.

"That's your sister, sprout," his father added above him.

"Her name is Hope."

He came closer, and closer, his eyes fixed on the baby as his father sat on the edge of the bed down near his mother's knees.

"Hope Beatrice Morgan," his father smiled, bringing one of his big fingers up to pull one of the edges of the blanket down a little to reveal more of her tiny, wrinkly face as she slept.

As he stood there, Isaac's eyes were glued to her, transfixed for a moment as he watched her pudgy little lips smack and yawn wide as her tiny nose scrunched a moment, watched the pale golden hair of her soft eyebrows and peach fuzz glisten in the lamplight.

"I love her," arose from him, so simply.

"You do?" his mother looked up.

He nodded.

"You love her?" her voice quivered.

"Yeah," he smiled bright.

Her face crumpled, and she sniffed and struggled to regain her composure. "You wanna give her a kiss?"

"Gentle, buddy," his father whispered.

He leaned forward and planted a soft little kiss to his sister's cheek, making sure to put a quiet smack to it before he stood straight again. "Baby Hope," he smiled up at his parents.

"That's right," his father's grin grew wide.

"C'mere, Isaac," Eliza reached out a hand to him. And he leaned forward with puckered lips to kiss her. "I love you so much. And you know what? You're already such a good big brother."

Isaac smiled and rested his little hands on the puffy floral quilt covering the bed and his mother's lap. "You look like an angel, Mama," he said quietly.

"Oh," she blew air from her lips as Arthur brought his hands under Isaac's arms and lifted him onto the bed near her thighs, "I'm a mess. Still gotta bathe."

Arthur reached out, and she gently transferred the babe into his arms.

"You know who I think looks like an angel?" she whispered to Isaac.

"Who?" Isaac whispered back.

"Your daddy," she whispered again, knowing he could hear them.

"Whaa?" he scrunched his nose and cocked his head.

"Just look at him!" Her voice was beginning to rise out of a whisper as they watched him look down at Hope in his arms. "Look how big an' strong he is, but he's holdin' Baby Hope so careful and gentle. That's how he is with you an' me too, ya know," she turned her head to look at Isaac as he did the same and looked back at her.

"Ohh-hh-hh!" Isaac said as he looked back at his father, his tone rising and falling. "You're right," he nodded slowly and emphatically with a grin.

Arthur's grin was finally allowed to blossom, and he leaned forward and met her soft lips for a couple slow, gentle kisses.

Isaac immediately smiled and scrunched his nose, pulling his shoulders up tight to his ears and tucking his little fists under his neck with a brief, bubbled giggle. "I like dat. It makes my heart go big."

"What? You like it when Mama an' Daddy kiss?" she chuckled.

"Yeah."

Arthur wheezed a laugh. "Guess he hasn't reached that phase when it's revoltin' an' embarrassin'."

"Why, honey?" she asked.

Isaac carefully climbed over her thighs and turned to sit and face them both. "'Cause you love each other."

His parents' eyes quickly popped up to each other at the same moment. And while Arthur's gaze flitted away nervously and even back to her and away gain, she kept her eyes on him.

"Can I sleep in here with you guys tonight?" Isaac quietly asked.

"Oh no, honey, not tonight," his mother answered. "We're so tired, and we—"

"But Baby Hope gonna be in here?" he started to whine.

"No, Baby Hope's not even gonna be in the bed with us," she gently shook her head. "Can't have a baby in the bed; we could roll over on her." She watched his shoulders slump as he started to whimper. "Tell you what—you can sleep with us in…two nights?" She glanced at Arthur to gauge his expression. When he cocked a brow, shrugged one shoulder, and nodded to the side nonchalantly, she knew he was far too exhausted at the moment to think about it. "Two nights from now," she nodded.

And with another of Arthur's blinks, he was looking at the three of them in bed two nights later, Isaac in his pajamas sprawled out content as a lark between them with his cheek on the pillow.

Again the scene morphed and melted to about a week later, after Addie had gone home. The sound of Hope's piercing wails was filling the night air, and his younger self walked into Isaac's bedroom, groggily rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, god…" he moaned. "I got poop duty tonight, Isaac," he mumbled thoughtlessly, subconsciously aware Isaac had to be awake.

Isaac silently watched his father stumble a step as he walked over to the crib in the corner and set the kerosene lamp on the nightstand.

He cooed and shushed Hope as she cried, and he reached into the crib and began to change her diaper.

"Ugh," he grimaced sourly. "Bad poopies tonight, babygirl. Poor thing, you must feel awful." When Hope's crying didn't ease or abate, he finally uttered a quiet and resigned, "Eliza," knowing she'd hear it all the same, even through the crying.

And she did come into the room still in her nightgown, not a few moments later. "What's wrong?"

"Bad shit comin' outta that baby, honey. Bad shit," he murmured with a wag of his head.

"Bad, or you just don't wanna clean it?" she said as she walked over to the crib.

"I mean, I think it's bad," he wheezed. "Just my opinion, I guess. But look at her. She don't cry this bad usually. What'd you eat?"

"I ate what you cooked!" she said in a strained whisper.

As his father grumbled and Hope's wailing raged on, Isaac shut his eyes and clapped his hands over his ears. "No, no, no," he shouted, somehow avoiding a scream.

He opened his eyes to see his parents looking at him. "I'm juss three, but I gotta go ni-night." He shook his head. "No more Baby Hope in my room. She gotta grow up firss."

His parents looked at each other and back at him, with Hope still crying behind them.

"You're so right, honey," Eliza said, coming to the bedside and leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"Damn, kid's right," Arthur mumbled under his breath as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"You're so patient and kind, thank you, Isaac," she kissed him again. "Sweet dreams, honey." She went and dipped her hands into the crib and brought Hope into her arms, resting her on her shoulder. "C'mere, sweet baby. Oh, Mama's got you…"

Arthur grasped the rails of the crib and hefted it with him as he followed her out the door. "We made her, we take her! What were we thinkin'?" he almost laughed.

"I don't know…" she smirked with regret as he closed the door behind them.

With the light gone from the room, it grew darker around Arthur until it was totally black. And he watched a play of scenes before him: about a week passing, the four of them enjoying the sunshine outside—Hope with a little bonnet on her head and Isaac trying to play with Buster. But Arthur noticed the dog was lagging, his energy waning until he was more lethargic than he'd ever been.

He watched a few more scenes as the dog secluded himself to the bear rug in the sitting room, and the family struggled in various ways to get him to eat. But he wouldn't touch a single bite.

Finally he was standing on the porch one evening as his younger self stood leaning forward with his forearms on the porch rail smoking a cigarette. Eliza was sitting in the long white swinging bench that hung from the roof over the end of the porch to his left, nursing Hope.

His younger self gazed up at the multitude of glittering stars adorning the deep indigo night sky, listened to the chorus of crickets with their usual rhythmic melody just beyond the porch, and felt the fresh night air crisp his nose and cheeks.

He lifted his cigarette back up to his lips and took another puff, addressing her without turning. "You know we're gonna have to put 'im down."

It hadn't been a question, but he'd tried for a calm and even tone.

A frown pulled at her mouth as she looked down at Hope and began to button her blouse. "I know."

"It's a parent's nightmare," he hung his head. "But he's gotta learn about death sometime. In order to…join the rest of us," he said, only managing to add the last bit in a whisper. Looking back up, he took another deep pull from his cigarette and flicked the refuse from the tip with his third finger. "You remember when, or…what it was…first taught you things die?" he asked, releasing a puff of smoke with the last words and turning to look back at her over his shoulder.

Eliza thought back a moment and looked up at him. "Couldn't tell you."

He nodded and looked forward. "I do." After several moments, he looked back at her again. "Was my mother."

Her eyes grew misty and beckoned him to come closer and sit beside her, without any words.

And he obeyed, licking the tips of his fingers and squishing the embers of his cigarette out between them, tucking what remained of it into the pocket of his work pants as he walked over.

"Ain't nowhere near as bad as it could be. Just gonna tear me apart. I know it," he sighed and shook his head as he lowered himself into the swing beside her. But he kept from sitting all the way back.

She reached out and brought her hand down over his thigh, gently patting his knee. "It's my fault. If I hadn't insisted you take 'im in—" she began to shake her head, her expression full of remorse.

"No, no. Had to be this way. 'Sides, I—" he stuttered, tilting his head to the side. "I think it taught me somethin'. That it's good to be kind, just for the sake of it. Don't have to be a big drama. But look at all the good that came of it. It meant the world to that dog, and…Isaac had a friend. He saw real compassion. Was just the right thing to do. Kid's teachin' me things," he smiled to himself.

He finally sat all the way back, filling his chest with a deep breath and letting it out. "Just gonna kill me, watchin' my family go through such pain twice in just a couple weeks." He brought his right arm across the back of the swing and let his head roll back as he looked at her with a tired smirk. "Drains ya."

Her brows drew up. "Let me do it. I can do it—"

"No." His eyebrows came together, and he shook his head with a sardonic chuckle. "Kill the dog? No. No way."

"You can't take every hardship onto yourself, Arthur. You've gotta let others shoulder some burdens sometimes, especially when they offer."

He slowly shook his head, keeping his eyes on hers. "I hear ya. I do. But it just ain't happenin', sweetheart. Not this. Just somethin' I gotta do."

When Hope stretched and cooed, she looked down at her and wrapped her more snuggly in her blanket. And he brought his thumb to the side of Eliza's jaw and gently stroked her smooth skin, causing her to look up.

"You're beautiful for offerin', though," he whispered.

She rested her temple against the back of the swing, keeping her gaze on his face as he slid his hand down and gently took her chin between his thumb and index finger. "I don't want you to hurt, Arthur."

As she came close and leaned into his chest, he kissed her forehead.

"Neither of us wants Isaac to, either," he said.

And they sat there for just a little while, the three of them. Listening to the plaintive strokes of the crickets in the strings section, bathing in the molten silver light of the moon, resting in the easy warmth of each other. Pondering some of life's biggest and achingly beautiful mysteries from the porch swing of their secluded, humble little ranch.

Once more the scene shifted before Arthur to what must've been the next afternoon. And from his vantage point, he was looking out from under the sofa. He turned to see Isaac lying on his belly underneath the sofa with Buster to his left.

He could hear his younger self's strong and clear boot steps, and suddenly his black leather boots came into view as they stepped before the sofa and shifted just briefly.

"It's time, son," he heard, his voice somehow both quiet and gentle, but firm and resolved. He crouched down and got on his knees to look under the sofa.

When he saw his father's face, Isaac silently brought his arm over Buster.

"He's sickly, Isaac," he said slowly and quietly. "On the inside. He was sick when we picked 'im up." He nodded forlornly. "We done all we can do for 'im. And he knows it's his time."

Isaac began to whimper and moan, struggling to speak. "I juss want him to stay, Daddy. I juss want him to be otay…an' I wanted Hopie to meet him too, an' be friends with him too, an'… I juss love him, an' I want him to be otay-hay-haaay," he finally broke down into sobs with the last words.

"I know you do," he sighed. Still crouching, he pushed the sofa back with one hand to reveal boy and dog. And when he saw the heartbroken expression on his son's face, he slowly looked backwards over his shoulder at Eliza where she was standing in the kitchen holding Hope in her arms.

She read the expression requesting help in his eyes and quickly walked over and came to sit in the armchair across from where Isaac was hiding.

"Isaac," she whispered gently. "I'm gonna miss him too. You know…while Baby Hope was in Mama's tummy, he would come and sit beside me, and rest his chin on my belly. He's so soft. We'd snuggle, and he'd keep me company, and keep me warm… I'm gonna miss him too," she sniffed and struggled to smile down to him. "He's been such a good boy to us."

Arthur slowly looked back down to his son. "We'll all miss him."

Isaac shut his eyes tight, buried his face in Buster's fur, and sobbed.

His father struggled to come up with the right words to say, knowing, 'We'll get another dog,' and, 'It'll be okay,' and 'Be brave now,' were just not right.

"Isaac…" he finally managed. "I know it hurts to know he has to go. I know…it's hard to understand…why." He winced, feeling he still wasn't getting it quite right.

He finally reached out and rested a hand to his little shoulder, and his sobbing immediately began to quieten, just a bit. "I know you love him. You been good friends to each other. You gave him a good life, for the time he had left. A great life. Think about where he was, all cold an' hurt an' lonely. Now he knows he's loved. Look at 'im."

Sniffing, Isaac drew back and looked down at Buster.

"He's clean and warm and safe. He's happy. That's what your love did for him. And he loves you right back."

Isaac nodded slowly, his frown still bent and somber. He looked up at his father with full doe eyes. "But I'll juss miss him so much." His face began to crumple again, and he brought his little hands up to his eyes.

"I know you will, son," Arthur replied, his heart fracturing at the sight. "But when he goes, he won't feel anymore pain or sickness. No more." He finally opened his arms, and Isaac immediately melted into his chest as he brought him in for a hug and held him close. He kissed the top of his head and whispered, "We'll always remember him. An' keep him in out hearts."

Isaac buried his face deep in his father's chest. He finally let out a full-on wail and hiccupped to get air, over and over, his breathing fragmented and his big, broken sobs bigger than what his little chest had room for.

Arthur brought his hand to the back of his head and closed his eyes, his heart shattering at the sounds. But just holding each other was beginning to work its miracle salve. And after a few minutes like that, Isaac's moaning and breathing were beginning to soothe and even out, though he still hiccupped now and then.

When Arthur finally drew back to look at him, his face was pink and puffy, his cheeks streaked with shimmering tears. Arthur brought his hand to the side of his face as their eyes met.

"You okay?" he asked so quietly. "Be okay?"

Though his eyelids were drooping heavily and his lashes were still wet, Isaac gave the tiniest little nods, and it sent the sensations of pride blooming and sparking like fireworks through Arthur's chest.

He nodded. "I'm so proud a' you, Isaac. Got such a kind, brave heart. And Daddy's real proud a' you." He finally came to carefully scoop the droopy hound dog up into his arms.

The sight made it all the more real for Isaac, and he began to let out little moans and sobs again, though nowhere near as loud as before.

"I l-love you, Buster," he quickly kissed his fur several times before his father stood with him. "I l-love you, boy. You a g-good boy. I l-love you s-so much."

His father swallowed and stood with the dog in his arms.

Eliza stood with Hope in her arms and placed a kiss on his soft ear. "Bye, sweet boy," she whispered. "Thank you."

And Arthur finally carried him towards the front door. But as he did, he glanced back at Eliza for just a few moments. When their eyes connected, she could see the several emotions that flashed in the look in them—an intimate moment between the two of them as that small span of time seemed to slow.

It wasn't just that he had to end a life—to watch life seep away and be the one to usher in death. It was the fact that he was the one to do what broke their son's precious, tender heart. That he took it upon himself. He was there to take the burden from Isaac. But not only was no one there to take the burden from himself, he chose to let no one do so. And he felt it, so astringently in that moment—the deep rawness of it. What it was to be a father. And she could see so clearly the mix of both beauty and tragedy caught up in the courage of it.

As he turned and walked through the front door with the dog for the last time, it overwhelmed her—the strength of his deep love for Isaac, of her deep love for both of them. As her face crumpled, she brought her free hand over her eyes and cried.


.

Dear Readers,

I realize Hope isn't an elegant or flowery-sounding name. It's short and simple to the ear. But while writing Ch 25 of "Only Fools..." I realized that that simple word holds a lot of meaning for this series. Eliza's deep-seated hope for Arthur's love in return. Her hope that he would see worth in himself and be all she knew he already had in him to be. Her undeniable hope that he'd stay and allow himself to be loved and accepted and become part of the family. Arthur's hope that his sacrifice in being apart from them would keep them both safe and untainted by the aspects of his way of life-that they would not only survive, but grow & prosper. Isaac's hope for his father's love, acceptance, & pride in him. And his hope for his parents' union & a healthy home.

So while writing, it almost seemed natural that Hope became personified. Not that their daughter is the incarnation of hope-she isn't. But with all Arthur's innate thoughtfulness, it was not lost on him the uncanniness of Eliza's chosen name for her, and its significance. And I thought it was a lovely way to bring their struggle to hold onto hope, and all it means, to the forefront of their minds.

I also want to be sure to say that I've been very conscious and careful of avoiding down-grading the value of Eliza & Isaac to him. I've never wanted to imply that he needed another child to find value in them as people and as a family. (I believe he already did.) That is to say, I've never wanted to imply that Eliza & Isaac were lacking in any way or worth less in his eyes. I've never wanted to distract from the simple fact that he lost Eliza & Isaac to murder, and how devastating that simple fact is. At the same time, an aspect of this work out of the series of 3 works is imagining all that could've been. And my personal imagination takes me in this direction when it comes to Arthur's pinings for a healthy, full family. I feel he'd be an absolutely outstanding pa. We know how he was with Jack. 😭💗

On a different topic, I want to let you know that it seems 2(+) weeks is a much more realistic goal for me to upload chapters. Not that anything special is happening in my life, but I'm always so extremely exhausted. I hope this isn't too disappointing and that you guys are interested enough to stick around.

Thank you sincerely for reading, and love to all,

Rosie