Chapter Six

She.

From the moment I saw her, I knew. She, would change everything. How I looked at the world, how I saw myself, how I imagined us. Our past folding meaningfully into the present, imbuing an indefinite, monochromatic future with richness, color—depth.

Past—willful, stubborn, quick to anger, easy to forgive. Beauty lit magically from within. Present—love, need, desire. Intoxicating, compelling.

She, is the fresh wind guiding us home.

zzzzzzzzzzz

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I want to learn to dance."

"You will. Mommy will teach you to dance. Mommy's a very good dancer."

"Mommy's too big to dance!"

Pacey nearly choked on his fruit punch. "Later. After your brothers come, mommy will show you. I promise you."

"Now, Daddy," Jenny said, tugging at her father's sleeve. "I want to dance now."

"Sweetie, I think Amy wants to show you her presents. It's her birthday party…"

"Amy dances with Uncle Jack. He even sings songs to her."

"He does?" Pacey said in mock surprise.

"And you dance with Mommy in the bedroom. Sometimes I hear you humming with her."

"Ahem. Hum?"

"Yes. You know…"

"Okay, okay," he said, getting up quickly from the party table. He bowed. "Miss Witter? May I have this dance?"

"Daddy, you're supposed to hold out your hand."

"May I have this dance, kind Miss?" he said, delicately holding her little hand in his much larger one.

Jenny giggled as they walked out onto the lawn. "Yes, you may, Daddy. What do I do now?"

"Stand on my shoes and I'll show you. That's it. Let's pretend we're dancing inside a box. Now, one…two…three…four. See?"

"Do that again," Jenny said, looking down at her shiny new patent leather shoes balanced on top of daddy's more comfortable loafers.

Pacey gestured with his feet. "Here's the corner of the box: one. Now the other corner: two. Down to this corner: three. And over to the last corner: four." He repeated the sequence. "One…two…three…four."

"Do that again, Daddy!"

"You're just like your mother," Pacey said, smiling.

"I am?"

"The first time I met her she was five years old," he said as if he were sharing a very special secret.

"I'm almost four and a half!"

"Yes, you are. And you are very wise for your years, Miss Witter."

"How did you do that, Daddy? You turned us around."

"Like this? I just made a bigger box. See?"

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From the moment we conceived her, I knew. She, is the choice that changed everything. Everything—from within and without. Having and wanting recede as giving and sharing take hold, selfless. The future, unpredictable yet constant. "Us" evolving naturally, spiritually into a Witter party of three. Joey, Pacey and…

She.

A fire pistol. A dynamo—like her namesake. Tall for her tender years, but with an ingratiating personality that has made her nearly impossible to resist. To like and to love.

To be willing to die for…lay down your life for.

She.

Soulful blue eyes reflecting both her mom and pop. A tangle of long dark hair that is unmistakably Potter, with soft curls that are definitely Witter. Quick wit—that's dad; fearless ambition—mom.

With none of her parents' childhood insecurities informing her present. Amazing. How did she manage that?

She.

Inspired patience…growing confidence…a willingness to take one's time and do it right. Because having a child together meant getting a second, maybe even a third or fourth chance. Love no longer at risk but held firm, close, true.

The sum of it all…

She.

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"Joey Potter."

I didn't turn around at first. It's been so long since anyone called me that. But the voice seemed familiar…and, when I looked over my shoulder, the face definitely was. Sunday football. Stats: New England Patriots – Quarterback. Career high: 4110 yds passing (2008-2009 season).

"Henry Parker. What are you doing here?"

"My parents are selling the house. I succumbed to a nostalgic moment and decided to see how things were going in Capeside. You stayed, I see."

"No, we're just visiting for the weekend. A last minute pre-baby getaway."

"When are you due?"

"Six weeks. The end of October, to be exact."

Henry seemed surprised. Joey, normally petite for a woman her height, looked close to full-term to him, virtually bursting at the seams.

"Twins," she said, catching his expression.

"Do you know…"

"Shh!" she said conspiratorially. "We haven't told anyone yet. Boys. Two boys. That's it, we're sunk!"

Henry laughed. "So who's the lucky daddy?"

"My husband's over there, dancing with our daughter on the grass. You know him, actually. Pacey Witter?"

"Yes, of course. Pacey. So you sailed through the storm and there was a happy ending after all."

"After a shipwreck and one failed attempt to get past the breakwater. But the third time was…"

"Something of a miracle."

"You could say that. So what brings you here, Henry? To a six year-old's birthday party of all things."

"I ran into Jack at the market and started asking about people. I didn't know about…"

"Jen? I'm so sorry, Henry. I had hoped your parents might see the notice in the Capeside Clarion."

"No," he said softly, "they didn't. Anyway, Amy was with Jack at the market and she invited me to her birthday party. She's a spittin' image of her, you know."

"Yeah, in all except one important detail." Henry looked askance at Joey. "That girl is always gonna know she's loved—by her mom and her two dads."

A tear slipped down Henry's cheek and Joey put her hand on his, reassuringly.

"Jenny! Jenny! Come on and play!"

"In a minute! I'm dancing with Daddy!"

Henry turned around quickly, looking in Jenny and Pacey's direction, admiring them with newfound tenderness. He swiveled back to see Joey smile broadly as she shrugged in response to the unasked question.

"Jen was an awfully meddlesome matchmaker, don't you think?"

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"Tell me the story about when you met Mommy," Jenny insisted.

"No, no. Not again!" Pacey Witter winked back at his wife.

"Please?"

"All right…but I have to tell you that your mom was one crazy little girl!"

"She was not!"

"Yes, she was. Ask her."

Jenny tossed a glance back her mother's way and saw her comically shrugging as she talked to a tall blond stranger. "Was she mad at you, Daddy? she whispered dramatically.

"That was pretty much a given…from the moment we met," her father concurred.

"Did she beat you up?"

Pacey cleared his throat. "Now, let's not get too far ahead of the story."

"Well?"

"The first time I ever saw her…she…"

Again, his eyes were drawn to the woman seated scarcely a few feet away from them. She leaned back in her chair, trying to get comfortable. The diffused light filtering through the trees provided a picture-perfect backlight for her shoulder-length hair. Pacey returned her grin.

"She was dancing in a butterfly pavilion, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Her hands would reach out to butterflies of all sizes and colors. And then she would twirl around—like this!"

"Whee!"

"And the butterflies would dance around her face while she danced around them."

"Why did she yell at you, Daddy?"

"I wanted to get closer. I was supposed to be guarding the door, but I forgot and opened the screen to walk in. Some of the butterflies started to get out."

"Did she chase you?"

"Not yet. She slammed the door on my hand."

"Ouch!"

"Yes, ouch. Later on, at Uncle Dawson's birthday party, she was still mad and wouldn't speak to me. I showed her some of the butterflies I had caught in a jar…"

"And then she started chasing you."

"All the way down the dock."

"You were a very naughty boy."

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A benevolent smile warmed the contours Mrs. Witter's face, reflecting her inner delight as she listened to her daughter gradually becoming in tune with the art of verbal jousting with her father.

Her dad. The "he" that conjoined and made "she". A loving father, an adoring daughter—the perfect blend. The yin and yang that made…

Them, now "us".

The triumvirate soon to expand and welcome home two additions to the family. A shifting of balance as sure as the waves resettling the white sand on the beach. Independent entities tied together by blood and familial bonds, later shared histories and…

Hope.

First love is pure and innocent, Joey thought as she observed her daughter's blissful rapport with her dad. It's love untarnished by the wariness of a broken heart. A love not to be held above the others but to be recognized as unique, special…

Empowering.

Pacey Witter did that for her. He challenged her, made her believe that escaping a predestined lot was her due, her right…

Her responsibility.

"Don't bet against that Potter girl," he comforted her. It had been wrong to think that anyone else could ever be her soulmate. For no one else knew her as well, fought for her as heartily…

Loved her as much. Fully, completely—despite their mutual insecurities and vulnerabilities.

We recognize love not in spite of our flaws but because of them, she had learned. Imperfect perfection found in each other, embraced, understood and made whole by…

Love—constant, unmovable, triumphant over human frailty. Love, true love, had heart, soul, wit.

Pacey.

His love grounded them both. Allowed them to dream outside the box. Two parts, one soul. Finding affirmation, they twisted and pulled at the bonds, testing…drifting away but always coming back together one more time.

For one more dance.

Because Penny Pretty was right: the dancing never lied. The dancing was all about…

Us.