Cyn’s House

The afternoon unfolded with the same quiet predictability it always had at the tail end of June. It was as if Mother Nature knew that school was out, and only then would it let summer settle heavily over the Wilson property. It lazily draped itself across the marsh, wafted amongst the pool and the weathered back porch like a well-worn quilt no one bothered to think twice about anymore. 

The air carried the familiar scent of freshly maintenanced chlorine, newly cut grass, and the faint undercurrent of saltwater rolling inland from the river, thick enough to taste with a deep enough breath. Even in the late afternoon, the cicadas bellowed relentlessly from their homes in the trees beyond the fence, their chorus so constant it had long since become part of the landscape rather than a sound within it. Somewhere in the distance, a boat drifted lazily through the marsh, its engine humming low before dissolving into the afternoon. Nothing about the day suggested the world had shifted, yet yesterday had changed everything. The Wilson house, however, hadn't gotten the message.

The wood of the deck still baked beneath the Georgia sun until the boards were nearly unbearable to touch against the vulnerable skin of bare feet. The patio doors remained propped open to welcome the breeze that never quite came, only bringing a small burst of muggy air every so often. Inside, the familiar clatter of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen as Cici and Ollie worked toward supper, their conversation rising and falling beneath bursts of easy laughter and refilled glasses of red wine. Outside, four children turned the swimming pool into controlled chaos, shrieks and splashes ricocheting across the backyard with enough force to drown out nearly everything else. 

Vivienne remained faithfully planted in what she'd long ago declared her poolside throne - a weathered lounge chair tucked beneath the lone umbrella that offered more wishful thinking than actual shade. She was nearly swallowed whole by a comically oversized straw sun hat, its floppy brim threatening to eclipse the already enormous sunglasses perched across her nose, the dark lenses wide enough to cover half her face. Auburn waves, left to air-dry after an earlier dip in the pool, spilled in loose and unruly ringlets down the length of her back. Each one caught the tail end of an occasional breeze before settling once more against overly sun-kissed skin. Every so often, she'd sweep the heavy curtain of hair over one shoulder with practiced indifference, only to smooth another generous layer of tanning oil across skin she'd already coated twice before. She was more than determined to chase a bronze that Tuck insisted she'd achieved three summers ago. Despite appearances, not a single thing escaped her notice.

"Lilly, baby, quit takin' big ol' gulps of the pool water. Oughta make yourself get sick drinkin' all that nasty chlorine," Vivienne called without so much as lifting her head. 

She punctuated the warning with a lazy flick of her wrist before immediately redirecting her attention elsewhere. 

"Cooper Wilson, don't you even think 'bout jumpin' off that railin'. And Charlie, sweetheart, scoot over and give your cousin some room. Blake, honey, use your arms… not just your legs."

The instructions rolled off her tongue with effortless rhythm, one after another, never hurried, never flustered. Somehow, between reapplying tanning oil, flipping the page of her magazine, and taking leisurely sips of melting sweet tea, she managed to keep a running inventory of every child in the pool without ever looking like she was trying.

Anna remained idle at her post along the deck railing, both forearms resting against the sun-warmed wood as she let it warm her skin with a slow ease. The heat had already seeped into the cedar hours ago, as the Georgia summer sun tended to get the earth and everything on it hot before noon. The railing was rough beneath her palms, though grounding enough that she found herself absentmindedly tracing the weathered grain with the pad of her thumb.

Below her, just a couple hundred feet away, the blue surface of the pool glittered beneath the relentless sun, its surface forever changing as each wave of water hit a new beam of sun. Every kick, every splash, every cannonball fractured the light into thousands of dancing shards that skipped across the water before disappearing just as quickly. The children moved through it in a blur of sunburnt shoulders, tangled limbs, and uninhibited laughter - each one somehow louder than the last.

Anna’s eyes found Charlie without effort, just like they always did. Charlie darted through the shallow end with the sort of confidence only children possessed. The kind of unwavering confidence only her child could possess. Just under 4, she obtained fearlessness in a way the world hadn't yet taught her not to be. She bounced from one game to the next without ever truly finishing the first, inventing rules as she went, squealing in protest whenever Cooper splashed her before retaliating twice as hard. Wet strands of brown hair clung to her cheeks and neck beneath the pacification of her glittered-pink goggles. Her swimsuit, a size too big Anna had noticed, began slipping crooked on one shoulder from hours spent climbing in and out of the water. Every few minutes she'd stop whatever impossible game she was playing simply to look toward the deck in search of something.

Searching for Anna. Which, ultimately, never took long to find. The moment their eyes met, only fleeting and in passing, Charlie's entire face transformed. She'd shot Anna that impossibly wide, gap-toothed grin paired with two engrained dimples on both cheeks. Anna grinned to herself, admiring how she’d just looked so much like…

She caught the thought before it finished itself, throwing a hand to her midsection as if she was trying to keep herself from the feeling of being sick. She lifted her free hand and waved, instead. Charlie waved back with both arms as though one simply wouldn't be sufficient enough, disappearing beneath the water again. She was perfectly content in the certainty that her mother was still exactly where she'd expected her to be as Vivienne flipped another page in her magazine.

There was something almost enviable about the ease with which Vivienne occupied her life. Not because it was perfect. Anna knew, better than anyone most days, that perfection was a myth mothers (and everyone else, honestly) told themselves to make the hard days feel less lonely and the shortcomings feel more trivial. Vivienne had kids who woke up before the sun did. She had a laundry-room filled with clothes that never quite found its way out of baskets. She had bills to pay, and a husband who somehow managed to leave every cabinet door in the kitchen hanging open before breakfast was over. 

But, nonetheless, she had certainty. There was a quiet confidence that settled into the spaces between her movements. Anna had chalked it up to being born from years of waking beside the same man, raising the same children, building the same life one ordinary day after another. Tomorrow would look much like today - grocery runs, soccer practices, bedtime stories, and shuffling the kids from one activity to another. There’d be nail appointments scattered somewhere within there. On particularly eventful days, she’d meet friends for drinks or get a blowout. The entire family brood would barrel into Ollie and Cici’s house every Saturday for dinner, then every Sunday morning for breakfast. Just like they always did in the summers when time made itself available to do so. Cooper would keep trying to cannonball into the pool from increasingly dangerous heights. Blake would insist he wasn't tired long after rubbing sleep from his eyes. Lilly would still ask for more dessert after crashing out from a sugar high, like nobody noticed. 

The shape of Vivienne's future had already been drawn. Its lines weren't always straight, but they were there. Anna couldn't remember the last time her own life had felt so clearly outlined, and it drove her to a place of desperate yearning for that corner of certainty. Yesterday had erased whatever blueprint she'd spent four years painstakingly sketching.

Every decision she'd made since Charlie's birth had belonged solely to her. And she wasn’t remiss to not acknowledge, in hindsight of recent events in this same backyard hours earlier, the selfishness of it all. Nonetheless, having full autonomy to carefully create the happiest, sheltered life for someone who became her entire life brought her peace. Every single routine had been hers to create however she saw most fitting. Every tradition, every boundary, every plan for next week and next year had lived quietly inside her own hands, untouched by anyone else's opinion. It had been exhausting at times, sure. But it always felt safe.

Now, for the first time in nearly four years, the future stretched before her as something unfamiliar. Not empty, but more crowded. There was another person standing at the edge of it now, and it wasn’t a stranger. Somehow, that made it infinitely more frightening. Harry hadn't simply reappeared in St Marys, he had suddenly forced himself into every tomorrow she’d already imagined. 

“Mommy!” Charlie's voice sailed across the backyard, bright enough to cut clean through the steady chorus of cicadas.

Anna blinked once, yanked abruptly from the thoughts she'd been trying (and failing) to outrun. Charlie had climbed onto the second pool step, those pink goggles cinched so tightly around her head they squished her cheeks together and bunched her hair forward. Wet strands of knotted curls clung stubbornly to her jawline and forehead, dripping a slow trail of water down the tip of her nose. She pushed the goggles up at the foggy lenses with her pudgy fingers before immediately pulling them back over her eyes, oblivious to how crooked they'd become.

“Watch this one!” she called excitedly, bouncing twice where she stood as water sloshed at her ankles. “This one's gonna be my biggest jump ever!”

Anna couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Your biggest jump? No way!” she teased. 

Charlie nodded with unwavering conviction. “Way bigger.”

“Well,” Anna laughed, pushing herself away from the railing. “G’head and prove it!”

Charlie beamed, reassured she'd secured her mother's undivided attention. She waddled backward through the water with all the confidence in the world before throwing both arms into the air. She proceeded to launch herself like a ragdoll from the step with an overly exaggerated squeal, tucking her knees far too  to accomplish anything resembling a cannonball. She disappeared beneath the surface with a modest and face-first splash before bursting back up a second r, coughing through delighted giggles.

“Did you see?” She panted eagerly

Anna clapped dramatically. “I’m totally impressed, Lottie bean.”

“Was it giant?”

“It might've shaken all of Camden County… so yeah. That’s pretty giant.”

Charlie's grin stretched impossibly wider. “I knew it!”

She spun around and immediately swam off toward Blake and Lilly, already chasing whatever game had captured her attention next. Already bored of whatever was holding her attention moments ago. Anna watched her sloppily swim off, the smile lingering for another moment before slowly softening into the abyss. Children had a remarkable way of demanding someone’s presence. Charlie never allowed her to stay lost in her own head for very long. She was still watching the kids bicker over whose turn it was to jump next when the patio door creaked open behind her.

“Looks like you could use one o’these.”

Anna turned halfway to her left as her father briefly balanced the patio door open with his hip, ice clinking gently against the sides of tall glasses with every measured step he took.

Ollie's voice was warm and familiar as he stepped onto the deck, the sun-drenched wood of the deck creaking slightly as his shoes shuffled against them. Pressed to his palms were two sweating glasses of sweet tea balanced carefully in his grasp, the damp glass eliciting beads of water to dribble down his wrists. 

His tone had a way of always carrying the unmistakable cadence of coastal, small town Georgia. It was as though every syllable was softened by years spent beneath the same humid skies and sticky heat that raised him. It wasn't loud enough to compete with the children or the cicadas, nor did it need to be. Somehow, people always heard Oliver Wilson. 

She accepted the glass without hesitation. “Thanks, Daddy.”

He offered nothing more than a nod of the head and a gentle smile, settling contently beside her against the railing with ease. As if he'd been standing there all afternoon. There'd never been much urgency to Ollie. At fifty-nine, he moved through life with the quiet confidence of someone who'd long ago discovered that very few things required immediate action.

The years had silvered more of his dark hair than not, though the stubborn streaks of black still clung to his temples with remarkable determination. His skin was delicately weathered, physical proof of decades beneath the unforgiving Georgia sun. It was as though he was permanently bronzed and lined in all the places a man who smiled often ought to be. Anna can’t remember a time where he didn’t have smile lines and a perfect tan, even as a little girl. Deep crow's feet fanned from the corners of warm, rich brown eyes that somehow always looked amused, even when he wasn't smiling.

And, as an evenly balanced contrast from his bride of 30 plus years, he'd never been an imposing man. Solid, definitely. Broad enough through the shoulders to look dependable rather than intimidating. His forearms still carried the quiet strength built from a lifetime of fixing anything he thought necessary, hauling coolers full of beer, mending fences, carrying grandchildren two at a time, and perpetually insisting he didn't need help doing any of it. 

His faded, worn out University of Georgia t-shirt had seen enough summers to qualify as vintage, hanging loosely and raggedly over worn khaki shorts with a pair of weathered leather sandals that Cici insisted should've been thrown away sometime during the previous presidential administration. He refused. "They ain't broke," was always his defense. Cici’s response never changed. "They're held together by hope and duct tape, Oliver." He'd simply grin, promise to buy a new pair, and continue wearing the old ones for another year. Which bled into another year, then another. Anna smiled faintly at the familiar sight, the conversation gently ringing in her ear from memory. Some things in the Wilson family were simply permanent.

Ollie leaned comfortably into his forearms against the railing beside hers, the ice in his tea shifting as he took an unhurried sip. He wiped a splash of water from his top lip while neither of them spoke. Which was fine - they didn't need to. The silence between them had never been uncomfortable. If anything, it was a simple comfort that was never taken for granted.  It was one of Anna's favorite things about her father.

Where Cici filled quiet with conversation, questions, and motherly concern that often bordered on overbearing interrogation, Ollie was a relieving opposite. He had always understood that silence wasn't something needing to be fixed or replaced. Sometimes it was simply another way people sat beside each other. Another way to truly relish good company.

Together, they watched Cooper forcefully launch himself off the diving board with spectacular overconfidence for a tiny-framed boy. The resulting cannonball drenched everyone within a ten-foot radius, copious amounts of water projecting to the area around him wherever it could manage to reach. Blake sputtered dramatically in horror. Charlie shrieked with delighted laughter. Lilly looked personally betrayed by the wave that sloshed over her pink floaties, her bottom lip jutting out as she readied herself to cry.

Without missing a beat, Vivienne lowered her sunglasses just enough to peer over the rims. "Cooper James Wilson."

"What?" He shrugged, lapping at water in place to keep him afloat.

"You know exactly what."

"I didn't even do nothin', momma! Swear it!"

"You soaked your baby sister."

“So?” He answered flatly. "I soaked everybody."

"That don't somehow make it better."

"It kinda does." He perpetuated. “Not like I did it to Lilly on purpose.

Vivienne sighed toward the heavens. "Ollie," she called without taking her eyes off Cooper, "would you kindly explain to your grandson why intentionally assaultin' your cousins and siblings with tidal waves ain't considered polite?"

Ollie didn't even look up from his tea. "Well..." He scratched thoughtfully at the gray stubble lining his jaw. "I reckon it depends."

Vivienne turned slowly. "Depends?"

"Mhm." He nodded toward Cooper. "If he'd announced the cannonball beforehand..." he mused. "Folks would've had a fair opportunity to prepare themselves."

Vivienne stared at her father-in-law in complete disbelief. "So your solution..."

"Manners."

Vivienne nodded curtly. "...is manners. Right."

"I've always found manners solve most things."

Cooper puffed out his chest triumphantly. "See!"

Ollie raised a finger. "Now hold on there, partner." The boy's grin faltered. "Cannonball's still against the law."

Cooper pressed on. "Who made that law?"

"I just did. It’s my house, pal. But..." Ollie added thoughtfully, "I suspect the punishment oughta fit the crime."

Cooper's eyes narrowed. "What punishment?"

Ollie pointed toward Lillie. "I reckon she gets the next splash."

Lillie's face lit up with absolute delight. "I DO?"

"You most certainly do, sweet pea. Knock it out the park!"

The three younger children descended upon Cooper with gleeful determination while he shouted about corruption and unfair government. Anna laughed - really laughed a genuine, guttural laugh - for the first time in days. The sound escaped before she realized she'd been trying to suppress it all afternoon. She felt the weight of Ollie’s stare shift its direction as he took a glance sideways at her. It wasn’t enough to make her self-conscious, but enough to get her to notice.

He smiled into his tea. "There she is."

“Who, me?” Anna looked over. “What do you mean?”

"Haven't heard that laugh since yesterday mornin'." He mused. “Couple o’ days, even.”

She looked back toward the pool, her smile fading only slightly. "I didn't realize."

He didn't elaborate or felt the need to press further and ask why. He didn't tell her she ought to laugh more and find the simple joys in life, much as she imagined her mother would drag on about that. He simply acknowledged it the way he acknowledged most things - with gentle observation instead of commentary. That was Ollie's gift.

He had an uncanny, unmatched ability to make people feel seen without ever making them feel examined. Like they were under a microscope. Anna had spent her entire childhood, and even some of her adult life, wondering how he'd done it. He'd been the same, consistent father whether she'd come home with straight A's or a speeding ticket. Whether she'd won awards or made spectacular mistakes. He celebrated quietly, corrected gently, and somehow possessed an almost supernatural faith that his children would find their way if given enough room to become themselves. He rarely raised his voice and rarely lectured. Anna could count on one hand when she’d ever been yelled at or patronized. And when reflecting back on any of those rare instances, sure enough, she more than rightfully deserved it. 

Disappointment from Ollie Wilson had always carried more weight than anger ever could. Maybe that was why all three of his children still sought his approval well into adulthood. Not because he'd ever required it, but because he'd always made them believe they were capable of earning it. Anna had never quite outgrown that feeling and strongly doubted she ever would. 

She recalled driving back into St. Mary's long after midnight, four years ago, every mile between Los Angeles and coastal Georgia having done nothing to quiet the dread clawing at her ribs. The trunk of her car packed to the brim, struggling to hold everything she'd managed to fit into it. The rest of her life, the home she’d known for the past few years, her friends, her business, the version of herself she'd spent years building, her relationship, had been left scattered nearly twenty-five hundred miles behind her. Every highway she'd taken east had only brought her closer to the conversation she'd spent days rehearsing and still couldn't bear to have.

She'd convinced herself of the worst, of every horrific outcome that hung over her head, long before she'd ever pulled into the driveway. She was sure that her father would look at her differently. She was sure that she’d turn up on the front porch, and all he'd see was the twenty-five-year-old daughter who'd left Georgia chasing big dreams only to come home heartbroken, pregnant, and alone. She'd imagined the disappointment a hundred different ways during the drive. All the questions, the silence, the quiet realization that she'd somehow become the cautionary tale at the hands of her mother. The same one she'd spent her whole life trying not to be. By the time she'd killed the engine beneath the old oak tree in front of the house, she'd sat in the driver's seat for nearly twenty minutes, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her hands had cramped, unable to make herself walk inside as she feverishly and poignantly wiped away away the wetness of a tear stained face.

The porch light had flickered on before she'd even opened the car door. And out stepped Oillie onto the front porch, clad in an old pair of plaid pajama pants and a ratty Braves t-shirt. Even his reading glasses were still perched crookedly on the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know she was coming. Anna hadn’t told anyone - Izzy, her mother. No one. Ollie hadn't even asked why she was home once she’d arrived. He hadn't asked why she'd shown up in the middle of the night with tear-stained cheeks, a flushed face, and half her life packed into the back of her car.

He'd crossed the yard without a word and wrapped both arms around her before she'd managed to say a single one herself. That’s when Anna had broken almost instantly.

She'd wept so hard she could barely catch her breath, apologizing between sobs for mistakes she hadn't even gotten to explain yet. Sorry for coming home, for leaving, for failing, for the baby nobody but Izzy had known about. Sorry for everything. Ollie had simply held her tighter, one weathered hand smoothing slowly over the back of her head the same way he had when she was little, until the words finally ran out.

"You ain't gotta carry this by yourself anymore, Annie-girl," he'd murmured into her hair, his voice steady enough for the both of them before placing a reassuring kiss to her hairline. "Whatever's waitin' for us inside that house, we'll figure it out together. You hear me? There ain't a thing in this world that's ever gonna make you too much for your mama or me. Not one thing."

It was the first time since leaving Los Angeles that she'd believed she might survive what came next. That moment reminded her of this one - Ollie standing next to her on the deck, readying himself to give her advice just as he did that night years back. He swirled the melting ice around his glass before taking another sip.

"You know," he said casually, eyes still following Charlie as she paddled determinedly toward the deep end, "I been thinkin'."

Anna smiled into her tea. "That usually means one of two things."

"Oh?"

"Either you've invented another project Mom's gonna pretend she isn't mad about..." Anna started, which Ollie met with a chuckle. "...or you're fixin' to tell me somethin' I probably don't wanna hear."

The corners of Ollie's mouth twitched. "See, not even big ole’ New York City can wrangle that last bit o’ twang outta you."

Anna let out a quiet huff through her nose, shaking her head as she looked back toward the pool. "Don't change the subject."

"I wasn't."

She laughed casually. "You absolutely were."

"Might've been just a little." Ollie admitted with a playful shrug.

She rolled her eyes affectionately, but the smile lingered another second before fading beneath the weight she'd been carrying since last night. The silence that settled between them felt different this time. It wasn’t awkward, but it undeniably leaned on the expectant.

As per usual, Ollie didn't rush to fill it. He simply took it as another opportunity to take a generous  sip of his tea, his gaze drifting lazily across the backyard as Charlie paddled after Cooper with all the determination an almost-four-year-old could physically muster. Somewhere behind them, Cici laughed loudly enough to be heard through the open patio doors, followed by the unmistakable clang of a pot meeting the stovetop. Life carried on, and Anna hated how easily it managed to.

Her fingers tightened instinctively around the cool, sweaty glass in her hand, willfully letting condensation dampen her palm. She knew what was coming next. Subconsciously, she'd known the moment Ollie stepped onto the deck. And truthfully, she'd known the second she'd opened her eyes that morning.

There was no pretending yesterday hadn't happened. This was never going to be something she could tuck neatly into a corner of her mind to unpack a different day. Harry existed now in a way he never had before. He was no longer existing as a haunting memory she'd spent years learning to live around. And he wasn’t just Charlie's father as a concept anymore. He was tangible, present, and unavoidable. Whether she was ready to face that reality hardly mattered at this point.

She'd spent nearly four years making every decision alone. Every bruise, every bedtime regimen, every doctor's appointment, every birthday candle, every school drop-off or playdate pick-up. So far, they'd all belonged solely to her. Yesterday had completely dismantled that certainty.

And for the first time in a long time… Anna didn't know what came next. It was an unfamiliar feeling that she abhorred because she'd always had a plan. This time, she didn't even know where to begin. To calm the onset of jagged nerves, her eyes wandered to Charlie again. She looked so impossibly small in the middle of the pool, so blissfully unaware. Anna wondered how long she could keep it that way.

Beside her, Ollie remained patient as ever, never once nudging the conversation forward. He would wait all afternoon if she needed him to, even into the  evening. Probably all week, if Anna chose. That was the thing about her father - he'd never force you to carry something before you were ready, but he'd never let you carry it alone, either.

Anna exhaled slowly through a rough breath, finally dragging her eyes away from the water. She glanced sideways at him, already finding him watching her with that same quiet steadiness he'd worn her entire life. It brought a general sense of ease that she didn’t know she needed.

"Alright," she murmured, resignation softening the edges of her voice. "We can rip the band-aid off, now."

Ollie chuckled as he angled his body to square her better. “Darlin’, I ain’t gonna talk about anything you don’t want to talk about. You know that.”

“Well if we don’t talk it out now, she will at some point.” Anna’s head nodded towards the screen door, the barrier between them and Cici. “Though I’m sure she already gave you every miniscule detail.” 

“She talks a lot.” Ollie reveled through a grin before hushing his tone. “And I mostly do more noddin’ and less listenin’.” 

She looked at him over the rim of her glass, one brow arching. "She knows when you do that, by the way"

Ollie only met her with a smug shrug of his shoulders. "I never said she didn't."

"Then why even do that?" Anna chuckled.

"'Cause sometimes folks don't need somebody listenin'." He smiled to himself. "They just need somebody to talk at."

Anna laughed again, fuller this time. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet..." he said, his grin widening. "She still likes me."

Their laughter dissolved as naturally as it had begun, disappearing beneath another eruption of splashing from the pool. Charlie had somehow convinced Cooper and Blake that the inflatable raft had become a sinking pirate ship. She barked out dramatic instructions from beneath those ridiculous pink goggles that had long since fogged over, her pudgy finger pointing frantically toward imaginary danger while Cooper argued they ought to abandon ship entirely. Blake, committed to the bit as ever, disappeared beneath the water with an exaggerated gasp as if he was sinking. Vivienne didn't so much as glance up from her lounge chair.

"If one of y'all actually starts drownin'," she called lazily, "do me a favor and make it look more believable."

Three tiny voices erupted into delighted protests. A smile loitered on Anna's face as she observed Charlie hurl her entire body into the game without any sort of hesitation. There wasn't a self-conscious bone in that child’s. She loved and laughed loudly, imagined even louder. Everything Charlie felt lived right there on the surface and she wore it all on her face. Even carried it in her little skips and walks. Anna both cherished and envied that.

Beside her, Ollie swirled the melting ice around his glass before speaking again. "You get any sleep?”

"Not really." She looked down at the condensation gathering around her fingers.

"No?"

"Maybe a couple of hours." A humorless smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. "Every time I got close, it was like my brain found something else to replay on a loop and I was suddenly wired."

Ollie nodded once. "I figured."

Silence settled between them again. Not the easy kind they'd shared only moments before. This one arrived with purpose.

The laughter from the pool swept across the backyard in hurried bursts before melting into the steady hum of cicadas. Inside, cabinet doors opened and closed while Cici hummed absentmindedly through each meticulous task of conjuring dinner. The afternoon continued exactly as it had all day, bleeding into early evening, blissfully unaware that beneath its ordinary rhythm sat two people quietly circling a conversation neither of them had been eager to begin. Anna stared out at the water, following Charlie as she paddled after her cousins. She knew there wasn't much use putting it off anymore. If there was anyone whose opinion she trusted enough to hear, even when she didn't want to, it was the man standing beside her.

“I was up too late.” She shrugged. “Just… I don’t know. Thinking, I guess.”

The pads of Anna's fingers found the weathered edge of the deck railing, her thumbnail worrying absentmindedly at a tiny splinter where years of Georgia summers had begun to lift the grain. She peeled at it mindlessly, letting the grainy wood catch beneath her nail until it broke free in a paper-thin curl. She rolled it between her fingertips, staring at how it splintered even further, before dropping it to the deck below to meet the top of the grass.

Beside her, Ollie remained still. He wasn't watching the pool anymore. He was watching her. Anna could feel it without looking. She shifted her weight onto her other foot, crossed one ankle over the other, uncrossed it again. Her bottom lip disappeared briefly between her teeth before she let it go with a quiet sigh. The cicadas seemed louder now. Charlie's laughter drifted across the yard in bright little bursts, followed by Cooper declaring himself captain of whatever imaginary adventure had overtaken the pool.

Ollie waited another moment. He always had an incredible knack for patience. "What about?" 

“If he got back…” she started slowly. “You know, wherever he was going.”

Anna hesitated. It felt ridiculous now that she was about to say it out loud. She scraped another loose piece of wood from the railing before sending it tumbling onto the deck, her eyes following it as though it were suddenly fascinating. Silence followed suit again, and she was taken by how she emud her mother in this moment - how the breaks and pauses between exchanges felt too unbearable to permit.

"Harry, you mean?"

"Yeah." Anna gave a single nod before swallowing. "I know it sounds stupid."

"It don't."

"I just..." She exhaled through her nose as frustration threaded through her tone. "His hotel's, what...forty-five minutes? An hour? He left so upset, and I kept thinking… Whatever. It’s dumb."

For the first time since assuming a spot beside Anna upon the deck, Ollie pulled his gaze away from her. Instead, it drifted toward the marsh beyond the trees. Thoughtful and unhurried. 

"I'm sure he found his way back alright," he said quietly. "Boy's made a career outta findin' his way ‘round places that ain't home."

Anna nodded blankly, though it did little to settle the restless ache twisting inside her. "Yeah… I don't even know why I was worrying."

Ollie let the silence breathe for another beat before answering. "I think you do."

Anna's idle hand finally stilled against the railing instead of fidgeting with whatever her fingers could find. For the first time since yesterday afternoon, she allowed herself to consider what came after. In the wake of the argument, she allowed herself to acknowledge what after might look like. The realization settled low and heavy in her stomach.

She'd spent the past handful of years truly believing that if she could just make it through one more birthday, another Christmas, another doctor's appointment, just one more difficult conversation, she'd eventually outrun the consequences of the decision she'd made in Los Angeles. Instead, they'd been waiting for her all along. 

Harry disappeared yesterday without another word. He'd declined dinner. He hadn't called. He hadn't texted. Perhaps that was her own fault, seeing as she didn’t give him much to work on as far as means of communicating. After all, he was probably still blocked and she’d long since changed her number. But still, he hadn't come back. Her mind, cruel and unforgiving as ever, had eagerly stepped in to fill the gaps.

Maybe he'd assumed she was lying, and that’s why he left. Or maybe he already called a lawyer. She shuttered when she considered the very real possibility of waking up to custody papers sitting in her mailbox. The idea of pulling open the little door of the red painted box at the end of the driveway to an official envelope - she couldn’t even finish the thought. By next week, she’d convinced herself that every gossip site on the internet would have Charlie's face plastered across it beneath headlines she'd spent years praying would never exist. Maybe Harry hated her. And maybe, she thought, he really should. Every possibility seemed somehow more terrifying than the last.

And the hardest part of all it was that she didn't have the faintest idea what she was supposed to do next. There wasn't a decision she could simply make and just move forward with while keeping her head down. Whatever happened now wouldn't belong solely to her anymore, and she couldn’t stand how helpless that made her feel. 

Her throat tightened. She stared out across the water, blinking against the sting behind her eyes before finally finding the courage to say the thing she'd been carrying since Harry walked away.

"I think I really fucked this up, Daddy."

Ollie was quiet for a long moment. It wasn’t because he didn’t know how to answer. It was because he wanted to make sure she knew she had room to say more if she chose. Finally, he rested both forearms against the railing beside hers.

"Annie-girl..." he said softly. "There ain't much sense in punishin' yourself over yesterday."

"No." A humorless laugh escaped her. "No, I really fucked this up. I mean in general, not just yesterday. Though I really outdid myself yesterday, too."

"You didn't see the look on his face when it kinda clicked…" She struggled to force the words out. "He couldn't even look at me. And when he did, I felt small - like the worst person in the world. Even just thinking about it makes me sick."

Ollie let the silence settle instead of rushing to fill it. When he finally spoke, his voice carried no judgment.

"Now I ain't pickin' sides. But I imagine..." He glanced toward Charlie before looking back at the marsh. "...that wasn't an easy thing for him to hear."

"He said he hates me.” The words left Anna before she even realized she'd answered. “So you’re imagining it pretty accurately.”

The words settled over them with a blanketing softness, like a rain skating gently across hot pavement. Anna had fully braced herself for contradiction. She was prepared for someone to gently correct her, wisely remind her of the logic behind all these tough choices. She anticipated someone to swoop in and wrap her in reassurances, assuring her that everything would eventually find its way back into its rightful place. Instead, Ollie had done what he was best at doing with that familiar, quiet mastery. All he did was create a space - completely wide and entirely unguarded space - for the truth to exist without any sort of resistance.

Anna let her stare drift across the pool until it found the spot where Charlie floated on her back, her limbs loose and completely untroubled. All the while Cooper made a quite valiant but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to send buoyant splashes her way from a healthy distance. The other half of Anna, just a couple feet away, ripped a laugh so vivacious it carried across the water. It captured Charlie perfectly: bright and unburdened, almost as if she belonged to another realm entirely. A place wholly untouched by sudden revelations. A kind of place where lives didn’t splinter and the innocence of childhood wasn’t interrupted by questions too large for anyone to answer.

She inhaled slowly, the breath measured and deliberate as it trailed through her nose and exited through her mouth. Her thumb continued to absently tracing the faint, damp ring of melted water that her glass had left on the sun-warmed railing.

There was more broiling beneath the surface. Not only just remorse, but something sharper. Perhaps an unease that had nestled itself beneath her ribs the day before and refused to give up its spot. A quiet, persistent dread she had spent the past 17 hours trying to outpace, filling her day with whatever sort of motion and distraction she could scrounge up. Now, standing beside Ollie, she felt the strain of carrying it alone begin to wear impossibly thin.

A quiet, humorless laugh slipped from Anna before she could even try to subdue it. It sounded wrong the moment it left her. It was thin and hollow, stripped bare of anything remotely resembling amusement. The kind of laugh someone elicited when they ran out of options or when there was nothing left to say and nowhere left to hide.She shook her head once. Maybe more to herself than to her father, as if trying to dislodge the sound from the air. 

Then, slowly, she turned to face him. “I asked him to come back. I told him…” She hesitated, her throat tightening as she searched for the right words. 

“I offered dinner - just the two of us. Only to talk about Charlie and, just, y’know, figure out…” Her voice faltered, uncertainty creeping in. “I don’t know… what this is supposed to even look like?”

Her gaze ripped itself away from him almost in defiance, settling instead on the deck. As though she were too angry to look at him. Too embarrassed and ashamed. A bead of condensation slid lazily down the side of her glass, catching the light as it fell and pooling at her manicured thumb cuticle. In a manic state around 3am (or 4, she’d stop checking the clock on her nightstand), she’d peeled off all her nail polish. Just itching for something to occupy her attention instead of succumbing to her thoughts.

She quickly wiped her palm on her jean shorts. “I figured we’d both cool off a little and then regroup. Like adults.”

A quiet beat passed between them, stretching just long enough to feel heavy. “So what’d he say?”

Ollie’s question came carefully, delivered with a gentle tone. Almost enough to disguise the flicker of hope tucked beneath it, anxiously waiting to hear his daughter tell him Harry was actually on his way. Anna’s lips curved into a crooked smile that never managed to reach her eyes.

She gave a small, defeated nod. “He basically told me to go fuck myself.”

The bluntness of it landed hard, the words hanging in the space between them like something solid.

“Then, obviously, he left.”

Ollie’s jaw shifted into a grind like fixture, the movement subtle but unmistakable. His eyes wandered over the yard, flickering past Charlie as she floated contently near the steps. Her tiny frame buoyed by the water, her laughter convivial and jubilant. She had no idea - no idea at all - that two adults stood just a few yards away, trying to piece together a future that orbited with her right at the epicenter.

Not a single part of him enjoyed hearing that. No father ever wanted to imagine his little girl standing outside alone at night, watching someone she loved walk away from her whilst blinded by anger. Every instinct in him bristled at the thought. The protective and indignant part of him fully ready to take her side without hesitation.

The quieter, steadier part that had carried him through several years of marriage, fatherhood, and everything life had thrown his way, held him back. The more he stewed on it, the more he couldn’t even imagine what it would truly feel like to discover that one of his children had existed for four years practically right under his nose. The thought alone hollowed something out inside him, and he couldn’t definitively say for sure he’d have found kinder words than Harry had. Anna mistook his silence for agreement.

Her shoulders sagged another inch, the weight of it all settling deeper into her bones.“I’m terrified, Daddy.”

Her eyes finally lifted to meet his, searching and uncertain.

“They’re probably ridiculous thoughts, but…” She shook her head, blinking hard as she tried to keep herself together. “I can’t get them to stop. Like, what if he tells the wrong person? And that person tells everybody?” 

“Anna I doubt he’ll-”

She couldn’t stop, now. Just kept going down the list. “She’ll never have privacy again. Never remember what a normal childhood is like. What if a lawyer shows up? You know, a guy in an expensive suit with a thick envelope of papers. Custody papers.”

“Custody papers?” Ollie alarmingly raised both of his eyebrows so much they nearly hit his hairline. “I think you’ve been watchin’ too much TV, kiddo.”

“It’ll never be simple like this again.” Anna’s lip just barely quivered. “She’ll spend half the year in England, or wherever. Completely out of my sight.”

He let her speak, let every fear spill out and settle into the open air between them before he said a word. When she finally fell quiet, he reached out, resting one weathered hand over hers where it gripped the railing. His thumb brushed gently across her knuckles, grounding, steady. 

Then, with all the quiet certainty of a father who had spent her entire life proving that home was never conditional, he said softly, “He’ll be back.”

“‘He’ll be back,’” she repeated, managing the faintest roll of her eyes. “Real reassuring, Daddy.”

Ollie’s smile tugged gently at one corner of his mouth. “I’m serious, Annie-girl.”

“Yeah, so am I.” She glanced back toward the pool, letting her gaze linger there. “You couldn’t see his face… see how angry he was.”

“No,” Ollie admitted evenly. “I didn’t.”

A breeze trickled slowly through the yard, stirring and twirling the Spanish moss that hung lazily from the weather-worn old oaks. Charlie squealed triumphantly as Cooper surrendered the inflatable raft, declaring her captain of the pirate ship after all. The children dissolved into another fit of laughter so rambunctious it was sure to have traveled clear across the marsh.

Ollie watched her for a long moment before speaking again. “But Izzy did. She told me about last night… about Charlie wanderin’ into the kitchen.”

Anna’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. Her tongue ran over the front of her teeth behind pursed lips as her fingers toyed with a stray piece of fabric from her shorts. She just craned her neck a bit, silently inviting Ollie to go on.

“She said the second his eyes landed on her… it was like somebody reached inside him and flipped a light on.”

Anna’s expression softened despite herself. “He didn’t even say anything about that. Izzy even said he said nothing when she came in.”

“Izzy said he just sorta looked at her. Not in a curious sort of way.” He shook his head, his line of sight falling on Charlie again as she bobbed manically through the water. “She said it looked like he couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t stop lookin’. That sort of thing.”

Anna swallowed. The image of it all nestled itself quietly between them. A man unknowingly staring at his own daughter, drawn toward her before he’d even been given a reason to. She thought back to the way Harry had studied Charlie as she searched for Honey through the kitchen. The smile he’d tried (and failed) to hide. The studied gaze he fixed on her features. She noticed it yesterday, she just hadn’t understood it until afterward.

“Ain’t the kind of thing you force,” Ollie went on, “It just happens.”

Silence blanketed them once more. Not heavy this time, but introspective and thoughtful. Anna watched Charlie disappear beneath the surface before popping back up with both fists triumphantly in the air. For just a second, she saw yesterday through Harry’s eyes instead of her own—meeting Charlie, laughing with Charlie, being inexplicably drawn toward Charlie… only to learn she’d belonged to him all along. It made her chest ache.

Ollie took another slow sip of his tea. “Now that ain’t to say I’m gonna defend the way he left.”

“Yeah, well,” Anna said quietly. “You shouldn’t, I guess.”

He rested his hip on the railing, body square to Anna. “Listen, kiddo, anger like that…” He took a pause as he searched for the right words. “It don’t come from indifference.”

Anna remained silent, her eyes fixed on the pool. She could feel the unbiased weight of Ollie’s eyes resting directly atop her. But she knew that, if she turned to face her father, she’d succumb to an onset of unstoppable tears.

“You don’t get that angry over somebody you don’t love,” he continued. “You get angry because somewhere underneath all that hurt… there’s still somethin’ worth hurtin’ over.”

Anna felt her throat tighten. Ollie wasn’t talking only about Charlie. He knew that. She knew that. Neither of them acknowledged it.

“He is a good man, Annie-girl, but not without flaws.” Ollie put it simply. “He’ll say things he wishes he hadn’t. He’ll probably make a mess of this before he figures out how not to. But he is fair. And whatever else happens…” His eyes finally met hers with quiet certainty. “I don’t believe for one second he’s gonna send some fella in a tailored suit knockin’ on my front door with stack o’ papers. I don’t believe he’s gonna sell his own child to the papers. And I sure as hell don’t believe he’s spent the better part of four years lovin’ you only to start communicatin’ through lawyers.”

He let that settle between them. “I think yesterday broke his heart,” he added after a beat. “And I think broken hearts have a way of sayin’ ugly things.”

He reached over, giving the back of Anna’s hand one gentle pat before returning it to his glass. “But broken ain’t the same thing as gone.” He glanced toward the house, his voice quiet now. “That’s why I told you… he’ll be back.”

Anna remained completely quiet for so long that Ollie began to ponder if she’d even heard anything he’d said. The vivacious sounds emulating from the pool sung on around them, interrupting the stillness between them. Loud splashes, childish laughter, the distant bark of Tuck and Vivienne’s family dog. But beside him, Anna had fallen unnervingly still.

When she finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a breath. “I don’t trust him.”

The words hung in the air before settling in the physical space between them, heavy and unmoving. Almost immediately, she winced. It felt as though hearing them aloud now had molded them into a new shape, given it a new meaning. They suddenly felt harsher than they had sounded inside her head. 

“It’s not…” She exhaled slowly, rubbing her forehead as if she could smooth the thought into something clearer. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” Ollie said quietly.

Anna turned herself back toward the pool, where she could focus on her child to try and invite more grounding thoughts. Charlie had completely abandoned the makeshift pirate ship and was instead chasing Lilly throughout the shallow end near the stairs. Shrilled shrieking with laughter embedded throughout barreled from both girls, carrying itself clean across the yard with ease. For a moment, Anna just watched them, her expression softening despite herself. If only everything, she thought, was that simple.

“All the bullshit aside, I know that he’s a good person.” There was a pause, and then, more quietly she said, “and I know that he loved me.”

Her jaw tightened, the softness draining from her expression as quickly as it had come. “But I also remember how small it felt trying to build an entire life around someone who could never stay still.”

She went on as her voice started growing quieter and distant, as if she were reciting something she had long ago memorized. “Tour. Press. Another country. Another city. Another schedule. Another commitment.” She gave a small, humorless shake of her head. “His career touches every part of his life. Even the parts he tries to keep for himself. It’s not his fault, but it is his reality.”

Anna’s nimble fingers drifted back to the railing again before she resumed the absent picking of splintered wood. 

“This sounds dumb,” She stared down at the tiny sliver balanced on her fingertip, her brow furrowing slightly. “But sometimes he just felt… really temporary. Sometimes I just felt temporary to him, too.”

Her voice softened, but the conviction in it did not. “How can I willingly subject my child to that? She’s barely four. She doesn’t understand careers and months apart. She doesn’t know the difference between temporary and forever.”

A quiet laugh slipped from her, though there was no humor in it. “I’ve spent four years knowing exactly what tomorrow looked like. Now I don’t even know what next week looks like.”

Ollie listened without interrupting, his attention steady and patient. When her words finally ran out, he let the silence linger for a moment longer before a quiet chuckle escaped him.

Anna turned to him, faintly offended. “What?”

He smiled down into his glass. “You always did have a habit of borrowin’ tomorrow’s worries.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” He rested his elbows on the railing, turning slightly toward her. “So am I. Let me ask you somethin’... where’ve you lived these last ten years?”

Anna’s frown was joined by the bunching of her eyebrows, caught off guard. “Where are you going with this?”

“Georgia,” he started, counting on one finger. “California.” Another. “New York.” Another. “Now back here.” He shrugged lightly. “And somewhere in between all that, I reckon you’ve racked up enough airline miles to circle the globe.”

“Oh c’mon.” Anna winced, just barely, before trying to mask it with a crooked smile. “That’s different.”

“Is it? You’ve built yourself one hell of a career,” Ollie continued, tone warm with pride. “I’m mighty proud of you for it. But don’t pretend your life’s been lived from one front porch.”

Anna peeled her eyes away - a desperate attempt to avoid having to agree with him. She knew the point he was trying to argue and, the worst part was, he wasn’t entirely wrong. It didn’t feel the same to her. Anna’s life had never been even remotely as loud or all consuming like Harry’s always seemed. It never truly demanded so much of her all at once, in one sitting, all of the time. But, in retrospect, it had shaped her all the same. Every long day that bled into late nights, every trip, every last-minute flight had carved its own path through her life. And Charlie’s, too. She’d built something steady for her daughter, something rooted in beauty and creative expression. But Charlie’s life had, for the most part, still been built around the edges of Anna. Her work, her choices, her ambition. One could argue that the difference wasn’t as clean as she’d always told herself it was. Maybe it was just easier for Anna to convince herself that the difference was a lot bigger than it actually is.

“How often are you jettin’ off to different places?” Ollie intended it as a question, but Anna knew better than to answer. “Miami, Paris, Italy… you want me to keep goin’?”

She sighed. “I always come home.”

Ollie’s attention flickered back over towards the edge of the pool, where they squinted in mild amusement over his gaggle of grandkids. Charlie had just climbed out, dripping from head to toe as she raced to the other side to meet Lilly, who immediately bolted in the opposite direction. Then he looked back at Anna.

“I think…” he said, voice measured, “…you’ve spent so much time tryin’ to imagine what this looks like for Charlie…” He paused as he carefully chose his words. “…that you ain’t once stopped to imagine what it looks like for Harry. I don’t reckon he knows what tomorrow looks like any more than you do.”

Her eyes drifted back to the water, thoughtful now as she let herself succumb to the ebb and flow of Ollie’s raspy voice while he continued on.

“You’ve had almost four years to picture every version of Charlie’s future,” he offered a small, understanding smile. “Harry’s had less than twenty-four hours. However scared you are…” Ollie reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’d wager he’s scared too.”

For the first time since yesterday, Anna managed to give herself permission to ponder the possibility that they weren’t standing on opposite sides of the same fight. She considered the very real reality that, while she and Harry stood in different places, they were both staring into the face of the same unknown.

Anna opted out of saying anything for a long while. Her attention remained absentmindedly fixed on Charlie a few yards ahead, though the picture before her gradually lost its sharpness. The repetitive splashing water, the pointed peals of laughter, the lazy sway of Spanish moss overhead. All of it began to merge together before it dissolved into a blur as Ollie’s words settled. They maneuvered their way into Anna, somewhere far deeper than she’d even anticipated. They sank slowly, like thrown stones disappearing beneath still water, until they began disturbing places she had spent years carefully subduing.

Up until now, it’d been so easy to believe there had only ever been one path forward. Twenty-five years old. Heartbroken. Barely pregnant. Furious enough to mistake conviction for clarity. She had jammed the palpable part of her life into the back of a car with trembling hands and swollen eyes, convincing herself every mile eastbound was another act of self-preservation. By the time she’d managed to cross the Georgia state line, she had convinced herself of the trope often enough that it had ceased to feel like a choice at all. 

For these past four years, she had comfortably existed within the confines of that certainty. It had become the unwavering mortar between every brick of the life she’d built. But like most things, certainty had a naggingly peculiar way of eroding beneath the weight of another person’s perspective. She knew each thread of her own reasoning. She knew the betrayal that prompted her to flee from Los Angeles before dawn, putting the city behind her in blurry lights. She knew every sleepless night, the panic, the suffocating loneliness of preparing to become someone’s mother while mourning the death of a life she was once so sure of. She knew every tear she had cried, every sacrifice she had made, every impossible decision she had carried alone. Harry knew none of it. From where he stood, what did it look like?

The question floated into the front of her mind without warning, manifesting itself into a physical ache somewhere beneath her ribs. It forced her to think of yesterday all over again, only this time in the perspective of the man who had been standing across from her. The same man who had shown up to a distantly familiar, sleepy coastal town. A man who had expected little else other than maybe an awkward wedding, where he’d run into the woman who had broken his heart years earlier. A man with, despite everything, unwavering kindness - the type of kindness that gets him to return a family heirloom in person. Only to discover she had secretly carried his child, given birth to his daughter, celebrated nearly four years’ worth of birthdays and Christmas mornings and bedtime stories without him ever even knowing she existed. It dawned on Anna, hauntingly, that the only thing that looked like was the cruelest form of punishment.

The thought hollowed her out. She had spent so much time telling herself she had acted out of protection, that she blindly believed it. At one point amidst it all, she never found it in her to consider just how it would appear to the only other person whose life that decision had irrevocably altered. From the outside, stripped of every private justification she had clung to, it no longer resembled self-preservation quite so neatly. 

The realization settled over her like the unbearable weight of sopping wet wool, and she physically recoiled from it almost instinctively. No, she thought, that wasn’t fair. Harry hadn’t lived the nights she had lived. He hadn’t known the fear that had driven every decision she had made. He hadn’t watched his entire future collapse in the span of a single argument.

Yet, she couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable truth quietly unfurling itself in the corners of her conscience. Intent and perception had never been the same thing. She still believed she had done what she thought was right. But now, she finally wondered whether that mattered nearly as much as she had always convinced herself it did.

The storm of thoughts, almost immediately, began to dissolve as a result of the familiar groan of the screen door easing open behind them. Neither Anna nor Ollie turned right away, they didn't have to. There was only one person in the Wilson family who possessed the uncanny ability to make her presence known before she'd even spoken.

Cici emerged onto the back porch with both hands swallowed by faded blue floral oven mitts that had certainly seen better decades. A dish towel had been thrown carelessly over one shoulder, its corner dusted with flour, while loose wisps of dyed blonde hair had long since escaped the clip meant to contain them. The Georgia heat mixed with the warmth of an over-worked oven had painted her cheeks a rosy pink.

She stopped just outside the patio door and planted one hand firmly against her hip, surveying the backyard with all the quiet authority of a woman who had long ago accepted that no one in this family would ever listen the first time.

Her eyes swept slowly across the pool. Cooper was poorly attempting to teach Blake how to perform what he unwaveringly assured everyone was an "Olympic dive," despite neither boys possessing anything even remotely close to resembling proper form. Lilly sat proudly atop an oversized inflatable flamingo, issuing commands to no one in particular while Charlie paddled determinedly near Vivienne’s post, where their dog Tony sat as his paws scraped the pool surface. Cici sighed toward the heavens.

"Alright now!" she hollered with practiced ease, her voice carrying effortlessly across the backyard. "I'm fixin' to feed every one'a y'all, but I ain't feedin' nobody that's drippin' chlorinated pool water all over my clean floors!"

Just as Cici clapped her oven-mitted hands together, Tony's ears perked up from where he'd been sprawled lazily beneath the umbrella beside Vivienne's chair. The mischievous black Labrador lifted his head, looked from the children to Cici, and, in true Tony fashion, interpreted the sudden commotion as a personal invitation to participate. As soon as he bounded to his feet, Vivienne knew what was about to ensue.

"Oh, Lord..." Vivienne sighed.

Tony, with all the might and energy a 2 year old dog had, feverishly launched himself across the yard. With the kind of reckless enthusiasm only Labradors seemed capable of possessing, he began weaving effortlessly between dripping children as they climbed from the pool. His tail whipped back and forth hard enough to spray water onto anyone unfortunate enough to stand within arm's reach.

"Tony!" Vivienne called after him.

The dog didn't so much as acknowledge she'd spoken. He didn’t look over when his name was called. Instead, he'd found a pink tennis ball abandoned somewhere beneath the azaleas and proudly paraded it through the backyard as though he'd personally unearthed buried treasure.

Charlie gasped. "Heyyyy! Tony's got my ball!"

"That's because you left it outside," Cooper pointed out.

"I was gonna get it!" Charlie whined.

"You said that yesterday."

"I was busy!"

"You've been busy for two days.” Blake teased.

Charlie’s pout came full force. "I know!"

The backyard instantaneously dissolved into the sort of cheerful disorder that always seemed to accompany family affairs at the Wilson house. Children scattered in every direction, each suddenly convinced they possessed just enough time to squeeze in one final game before surrendering to baths and meals. Wet footprints embedded themselves in the sun-dried grass across every conceivable direction of the yard, tiny puddles collecting wherever little feet had paused long enough to argue over who'd won the pirate battle or whose turn it had been to captain the inflatable raft. Tony, on the other hand, had officially declared himself the afternoon's greatest victor.

The black Labrador paraded himself proudly throughout the yard, a slobbery tennis ball clamped between his teeth while his tail swished with such convivial enthusiasm that his entire body seemed to sway in unison. Every few steps he took, he'd brazenly glance over, ensuring his audience remained appropriately invested in his accomplishment before breaking into another delighted sprint once someone tried to get close.

“I didn’t spend all morning waxing my floors for mess,” Cici patronized. “So y’all better snatch that gremlin and wipe his paws ‘for lettin’ him in my house.”

"Oh, honestly..." Vivienne groaned, pushing herself up from the lounge chair with considerably more reluctance than urgency. 

She slid her sunglasses onto the top of her head and sighed dramatically toward the cloudless sky. "Tony, honey, I do not have the cardiovascular endurance for this today."

Tony responded by taking off even faster. Vivienne blinked after him, mouth parted in a state of mild shock. "I know he didn't just do that."

The boys erupted into laughter. Cooper doubled over so hard he nearly toppled back into the pool, bracing himself by throwing his hands to his knees.

"He juked you!" he hollered between cackles. "He absolutely juked you!"

"I saw it!" Blake chimed in, pointing accusingly toward the dog. "He looked at you first!"

Tony fervently circled the old oak tree nearest to the marsh, just once, before stealthily maneuvering himself beneath the patio table. All of which was done with the unmistakable confidence of an animal who knew full well he was faster than every human currently involved. Vivienne came to an abrupt halt as her hands planted themselves precariously on her hips. The dog dropped into a playful bow, front paws stretched out before him, tail whipping furiously as though issuing a formal challenge. His head was ducked - half in amusement, half as a dare. 

Vivienne groaned again. "You think this is funny?"

Tony barked once, and Cooper slapped Blake's shoulder. "He said yes!"

"I heard it too!" Blake agreed in joyous amusement.

"I did not raise y'all to encourage criminal behavior." Vivienne informed the boys matter-of-factly.

She crouched slowly, extending one hand toward Tony with exaggerated patience. "C'mere, sweetheart."

Tony's ears perked.

"Good boy..."

His tail wagged hopefully.

"That's right..."

He took two cautious steps toward her.

"Come on..."

Another step.

Vivienne smiled triumphantly.

"There you -"

Without warning, Tony snatched the tennis ball back off the grass and bolted between her legs. Vivienne let out an anticipatory squeal as she spun awkwardly in place, windmilling both arms to keep herself upright before dissolving into helpless sighs of defeat. Anna watched the spectacle unfold with a smile she hadn't realized she'd been wearing. The sound of her family's laughter floated effortlessly through the humid afternoon, mingling with the steady drone of cicadas and the distant whisper of the marsh beyond the trees. It was loud, chaotic. Entirely unremarkable and borderline ridiculous. Which was precisely what made her feel so comfortably at home.

She extended her arm over towards the patio table, her hand settling on Charlie's faded Bluey towel from the neat stack Cici had laid out earlier that morning. Picking it up, Anna indulged herself with the faint smell of fabric softener laced with sunshine from where it'd been sitting for most of the day. Unfolding it with a practiced snap, Anna caught Charlie's attention with a small wave of her hand.

"C'mon, Lottie bug," she called warmly. "Let's get you dried off before Mimi has a fit."

Charlie's head popped up immediately. "Do I gotta?"

"You do." Anna playfully frowned.

Charlie released the world's most dramatic and theatrical sigh before embarking on her reluctant paddle toward the steps, muttering under her breath about how ‘Mimis’ were ‘always stealing the fun’. Anna smiled contently to herself as she waited at the edge of the deck, Bluey towel held open and ready, knowing full well Charlie would continue to protest right up until the moment she wrapped herself in it like a burrito and melted happily into her mother's arms.

She climbed the deck steps with all the reluctant enthusiasm of a child being asked to leave behind the greatest afternoon of her life. Water streamed from every inch of her, leaving a trail of tiny footprints and small puddles in her wake across the sun-warmed boards. She shuffled toward Anna, her misery exaggerated for effect as she gravely informed her that she hadn’t even been cold, that she would have gotten out eventually. Anna humored her with quiet agreement, and when Charlie tilted her head and amended her claim with a doubtful “probably,” Anna couldn’t help but smile. Without ceremony, she draped it over Charlie’s head until the little girl disappeared entirely beneath soft blue terrycloth. 

Charlie’s muffled squeal of protest dissolved quickly into giggles. “Mama, I can’t see! I disappeared!”

“Oh no!” Anna gasped in mock despair. “Has anyone seen Charlie?”

Playful bumps of small hands shot upward, aimlessly fumbling beneath the confines of the towel until Charlie’s face emerged again. Her grin filled her face, which was flushed a slight shade of pink from the sun and fits of laughter. Wet curls of hair sprang wildly in every direction, refusing to be tamed no matter how many times Anna smoothed them down.

“False alarm,” Anna’s chuckle dwindled to a murmur, “Here she is.”

She gathered the towel in a more condensed bunch around the base of Charlie’s head again. Her hands worked more gently this time, maneuvering in slow circles through her damp hair. Water sept into the fabric with each pass, leaving behind soft and towel-dried waves that curled almost immediately in the humid air. Though only for a moment, Anna’s hands completely stilled.

Since before she could even remember, Anna had always amounted Charlie’s unruly mane to her own. The kink of boundless curls rivaled Anna’s, both heads of hair meeting the fate of their natural-born curl pattern any time water or humidity was at play. But now, with the water weighing it down and the humidity descending, the strands clung in familiar bends around Charlie’s forehead. Each refusing to lie flat no matter how carefully Anna tucked them away.

She’d seen this head of hair on someone else. On a twenty-six-year old boy standing barefoot in the kitchen, sleep still clinging to him as he wandered downstairs each morning. His hair flattened on one side and impossibly unruly on the other. He had never quite been able to tame it either. The memories arrived so suddenly it stole the breath from her lungs. 

Anna swallowed and forced her hands to keep moving. “Hold still, bug.”

“I am holdin’ still.”

“Liar.” Anna teased. “You’ve spun around three times!”

Charlie shrugged unassumingly. “I was just helpin’.”

Anna let out a soft laugh. “Is that what we’re calling wiggling now? Helping?”

Charlie grinned, and there it was again. Those unmistakable dimples. Anna had peppered them with kisses upwards of thousands of times. She’d laughed at them, watched them deepen whenever Charlie was particularly pleased with herself. She’d cooed at them when she’d giggle as a baby. She’d smile smugly and triumphantly when people would swoon over them. She had always thought they were simply Charlie’s. Now she found herself staring.

Harry had smiled exactly like that. The left dimple appeared just a heartbeat before the right, so subtle it was easy to miss unless you knew to look for it. She had known once. And she always remembered to look. Before yesterday, she had somehow forgotten. Or perhaps she had taught herself not to remember at all. 

Anna dragged the towel lower, where she dabbed gently at the droplets still clinging to Charlie’s cheeks. The girl’s skin was warm beneath her fingertips, even with the barrier of the towel. It’d been softened from hours in the Georgia sun, carrying the faint scent of chlorine, SPF, and the watermelon popsicle Charlie snuck after being told no. Charlie scrunched her nose dramatically when Anna rubbed a little too enthusiastically beneath her chin.

“Rubs are too hard.” she protested.

“Oh?” Anna softened her touch immediately. “Sorry.”

Charlie scrunched it again anyway, more out of habit than discomfort, which enticed Anna to come screeching to a halt. It was such a small thing. So small, it was really the kind of habit no one ever seemed to notice. Already having walked down memory lane, Anna realized she did notice it. Not only notice it, but recognize it. Except Harry had always done that exact same thing. Whenever she teased him, whenever coffee tasted too bitter, whenever something amused him just enough to hide a smile, whenever he was wrapped up so deeply in a thought. His nose would wrinkle precisely the same way, the bridge creasing for a fleeting second before smoothing again.

The realization settled over her quietly before smothering her completely. How many times had she seen Charlie make that face? Hundreds. Thousands, even, if not more. Never once had she allowed herself to acknowledge where it came from. Or who it came from. Charlie looked up at her at that exact moment, letting the sunlight catch her eyes.

They bore no resemblance to the rich, deep chocolate of Anna’s eyes. They never had. Years ago, holding this same little girl in front of her as a newborn swaddled in pink blankets, Anna had decided that her eyes were blue. Then gray. Sometimes green, depending on the light. But now, standing beneath the dwindling afternoon sun, she saw them clearly for what they were - impossible to define. Certainly not blue enough to be blue. Not green enough to be green. They were something in between, shifting with the light. They were Harry’s eyes. Charlie blinked, and the sun caught them again. Harry. Everywhere.

Not enough of him was riddled throughout her to erase pieces of Anna from the child before her. Charlie’s mouth was still hers, the shape of her smile and distinctness of her frown. Her laugh was unmistakably credited to the Wilson in her, loud and gleeful and even obnoxious depending on the occasion. Her stubbornness was undoubtedly inherited from generations of women who had never once apologized for it, Anna especially. But scattered throughout her, tucked into the smallest corners of her expressions, were pieces of Harry that Anna suddenly could not stop seeing.

They had always been there, she was only looking differently now. It was as if yesterday had discreetly adjusted the lens through which she had spent almost four years seeing her daughter. As though the truth, once spoken aloud, refused to be hidden again.

“You okay, Mama?” Charlie reached up and patted Anna’s cheek with a damp little hand. 

Anna blinked, pulled back into the present. She hadn’t realized she had stopped moving. A smile came easily. “I am.”

Charlie studied her for a moment, then just as quickly seemed satisfied with the answer she was handed. As predicted for the attention span of a child, another burst of laughter from across the yard caught her attention instead. Cooper had successfully cornered Tony near the hydrangeas, but the black Labrador darted sideways at the last second, refusing to surrender his tennis ball. Cooper lunged after him, only to land in a flop atop a forgotten pool noodle. It shot out from beneath him, sending him pinwheeling before he collapsed into the grass with a dramatic yelp that sent Blake  and Lilly into hysterics.

Charlie burst into laughter so suddenly she nearly doubled over, both dimples carving deep into her cheeks as that obnoxious Anna-inherited laugh ripped clean through the air. Before Anna could stop herself, she saw Harry all over again. Bright and alive, smiling through the face of the little girl who had no idea who her father was.

Behind the barrier of the weathered screen door on the porch, the kitchen had become its own kind of organized pandemonium. Every available inch of counter space had disappeared beneath a disarray of used mixing bowls, cutting boards, serving platters, and ingredients in various stages of dinner. A well-loved cast-iron skillet hissed softly on the stove while something buttery and unmistakably Southern baked away inside the oven, filling the house with the comforting perfume of roasted garlic, warm yeast, and assorted herbs. Somewhere on the back burner, seasoned green beans simmered low beneath a generous helping of bacon, onions, and enough butter to make any cardiologist weep.

The ceiling fan spun lazily and essentially useless overhead, doing nothing aside from pushing heavy, warm air from one end of the room to the other. The working oven and stove didn’t aid much, but Cici refused to acknowledge it. She floated effortlessly through the chaos she'd orchestrated herself. She went on opening new cabinet doors before she'd closed the last one. She skillfully balanced a wooden spoon between her front teeth, all the while simultaneously checking on rolls in the oven. Amidst it all, she kept directing Ollie toward whatever task she'd decided he was responsible for next.

"Now hold on. No no - that bowl goes over there."

Ollie looked down at the ceramic bowl already in his hands. "...Where's 'there'?"

Cici didn't bother looking up. "The other there.” 

He considered that for a moment. "Gee...that certainly narrows it down, don’t it?"

She sighed with theatrical disappointment. "I swear, Oliver Wilson, after forty years of marriage you'd think I'd have taught you how to read my mind by now."

He slid the bowl exactly where it'd been sitting before. "I've found askin' questions's a whole lot safer."

"It ain't."

"It feels safer."

"It ain't."

The corners of Ollie's mouth twitched in defiance before faltering and disappearing altogether. Time had taught him plenty, and he knew better than to argue with a woman wielding oven mitts. Especially his woman. Cici crossed the kitchen in three purposeful, intent strides before nudging him aside with her hip, muttering something under her breath about "men bein' decorative more than useful" as she reached for the bowl herself.

"I heard that," Ollie said.

"I wasn't whisperin'."

"No, ma'am." He nodded, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You sure weren’t.”

"And don't you go givin' me that grin." Cici shot back with an intentful point of her finger.

"What grin?"

"The one you're wearin'."

"I don't believe I'm wearin' one."

"You most certainly are."

He rubbed thoughtfully at his beard. "Might just be my face."

Cici stopped long enough to level him with a look. "Well, your face is bein' awfully smug."

"I'll see if I can do somethin' about it."

Cici carefully bobbed her head. "You do that."

Despite every word of complaint, the ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth before she turned back toward the stove. Outside, muffled through the open patio doors, Charlie's laughter drifted into the kitchen alongside the rhythmic drone of cicadas. Tony barked once somewhere near the side yard before Cooper triumphantly declared he'd finally gotten the tennis ball back, only to be met with immediate protests from Blake insisting he'd done most of the work. Faint, though prominent enough to carry into the kitchen, whining from Lilly about something. Anything.  All in all, the Wilson house hummed with the kind of comfortable noise that only existed when everyone was home.

The laughter outside seemed to dip for half a breath, just slightly. The cicadas droned on but somehow felt farther away now. Even the skillet's steady hiss softened beneath something unseen, like the house itself had drawn in a quiet, expectant breath. As if on cue, three sharp knocks echoed through the foyer. Each one carried itself down the hallway, landing in the kitchen where it hung briefly in the thick, warm air.

They weren’t frantic, nor hesitant. Simply...deliberate. The kitchen paused. Cici looked toward the front hallway. Ollie looked up from the platter he'd been carrying. Another knock followed shortly thereafter.

"My goodness," Cici muttered, glancing toward the old grandfather clock tucked against the dining room wall. "Who in heaven's name comes callin' this close to supper?"

Ollie adjusted the weight of the serving platter in his hands. "Could be one'a the neighbors."

"They know better." Cici tutted.

"Might be somebody lost." Ollie offered.

"They've got GPS."

"Might be a salesman."

"You got an answer for everything, don’t you?" She pulled the casserole dish from the oven, setting it carefully atop the stovetop before waving one floral oven mitt toward her husband. "Would you get the door?"

Ollie lifted both hands in surrender, the heavy platter balanced precariously between them. "I would, sweetheart..." He tipped his chin toward the stack of dishes she'd loaded into his arms over the last ten minutes. "...but you've got me workin' like a borrowed mule."

Cici looked him up and down. "You've got one platter."

"It's a mighty important platter."

"It weighs but a pound.” Cici’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Two, if you really wanna drum up theatrics.”

"Would say four if you count the potatoes."

She rolled her eyes so dramatically it bordered on athletic. "I swear..." she murmured, already wiping her hands on the dish towel draped over her shoulder. "If I want somethin' done around this house, I reckon I'll just have to keep doin' it myself."

With one last exaggerated sigh of defeat, Cici went to untie the back of her apron before setting aside on the counter. She adjusted the oven mitt she'd somehow forgotten was still on one hand, abandoning it atop the kitchen table on her way to the hallway. Her footsteps unhurried against the old hardwood floors. She embarked on her journey toward the foyer with the practiced gait of a woman who'd walked it tens of thousands of times before. The old pine floors answered each step with a familiar creak beneath her house shoes.

The hallway itself was bathed in the honeyed glow of late afternoon, sunlight spilling through the front windows and stretching long rectangles across the hardwood and onto the staircase. Family photographs lovingly adorned the walls in carefully curated clusters. A plethora of school portraits, beach vacations, Christmas mornings, wedding days passed her by, each one hung with the kind of deliberate care only Cici possessed. 

Her eyes found the crooked frame almost immediately. She frowned, slowing just enough to straighten it with the side of her hand before continuing on. Only for her attention to drift toward the faded runner stretched down the center of the hallway. That thing desperately needed a proper deep clean. She'd meant to borrow Tucker's carpet cleaner two weeks ago. Or had it been three? She made a mental note to call him tomorrow, assuming she remembered. She probably wouldn't.

Another note quietly joined the growing list in the back of her mind: wash the runner, rotate the hydrangeas on the front porch, replace the lightbulb in the upstairs hallway before somebody broke a neck. She reached the foyer just as another ribbon of sunlight caught the thin layer of pollen gathering along the windowsill. Mercy. Georgia could keep its pollen to itself.

The front door stood only an arm's length away now. Cici reached for the brass handle... then stopped. "Oh, honestly."

She drew her hand back to her side, suddenly startled by the unsettling possibility that she looked exactly like she'd spent the better part of the afternoon standing over a hot stove. Which is exactly what she had been doing.

Taking one small step backward, her body at an angle, she turned toward the antique mirror hanging above the narrow entryway table. The woman staring back at her looked perfectly respectable by every reasonable standard. Which, naturally, meant there was plenty of work to be done.

She tugged at the clip securing her hair just enough to coax a few stray strands back into place before ultimately deciding they looked better where they'd fallen originally. One manicured hand smoothed absentmindedly over a barely noticeable crease on the front of her skirt. The other brushed an invisible speck of flour from her shirt. She pinched lightly at her cheeks, satisfied to find they already carried enough color from the kitchen heat, then leaned in just a fraction.

"Well..." she murmured to her reflection, her grin as smug as ever. "You've certainly looked worse.”

Content enough with that assessment, Cici squared her shoulders, wrapped her fingers around the cool brass handle, and finally pulled the front door open. She was met with a gust of hot air, the hum of birds and cicadas, and a familiar face that looked daunted by lack of sleep. He did exactly what Ollie said he would do.

The afternoon unfolded with the same quiet predictability it always had at the tail end of June. It was as if Mother Nature knew that school was out, and only then would it let summer settle heavily over the Wilson property. It lazily draped itself across the marsh, wafted amongst the pool and the weathered back porch like a well-worn quilt no one bothered to think twice about anymore. 

The air carried the familiar scent of freshly maintenanced chlorine, newly cut grass, and the faint undercurrent of saltwater rolling inland from the river, thick enough to taste with a deep enough breath. Even in the late afternoon, the cicadas bellowed relentlessly from their homes in the trees beyond the fence, their chorus so constant it had long since become part of the landscape rather than a sound within it. Somewhere in the distance, a boat drifted lazily through the marsh, its engine humming low before dissolving into the afternoon. Nothing about the day suggested the world had shifted, yet yesterday had changed everything. The Wilson house, however, hadn't gotten the message.

The wood of the deck still baked beneath the Georgia sun until the boards were nearly unbearable to touch against the vulnerable skin of bare feet. The patio doors remained propped open to welcome the breeze that never quite came, only bringing a small burst of muggy air every so often. Inside, the familiar clatter of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen as Cici and Ollie worked toward supper, their conversation rising and falling beneath bursts of easy laughter and refilled glasses of red wine. Outside, four children turned the swimming pool into controlled chaos, shrieks and splashes ricocheting across the backyard with enough force to drown out nearly everything else. 

Vivienne remained faithfully planted in what she'd long ago declared her poolside throne - a weathered lounge chair tucked beneath the lone umbrella that offered more wishful thinking than actual shade. She was nearly swallowed whole by a comically oversized straw sun hat, its floppy brim threatening to eclipse the already enormous sunglasses perched across her nose, the dark lenses wide enough to cover half her face. Auburn waves, left to air-dry after an earlier dip in the pool, spilled in loose and unruly ringlets down the length of her back. Each one caught the tail end of an occasional breeze before settling once more against overly sun-kissed skin. Every so often, she'd sweep the heavy curtain of hair over one shoulder with practiced indifference, only to smooth another generous layer of tanning oil across skin she'd already coated twice before. She was more than determined to chase a bronze that Tuck insisted she'd achieved three summers ago. Despite appearances, not a single thing escaped her notice.

"Lilly, baby, quit takin' big ol' gulps of the pool water. Oughta make yourself get sick drinkin' all that nasty chlorine," Vivienne called without so much as lifting her head. 

She punctuated the warning with a lazy flick of her wrist before immediately redirecting her attention elsewhere. 

"Cooper Wilson, don't you even think 'bout jumpin' off that railin'. And Charlie, sweetheart, scoot over and give your cousin some room. Blake, honey, use your arms… not just your legs."

The instructions rolled off her tongue with effortless rhythm, one after another, never hurried, never flustered. Somehow, between reapplying tanning oil, flipping the page of her magazine, and taking leisurely sips of melting sweet tea, she managed to keep a running inventory of every child in the pool without ever looking like she was trying.

Anna remained idle at her post along the deck railing, both forearms resting against the sun-warmed wood as she let it warm her skin with a slow ease. The heat had already seeped into the cedar hours ago, as the Georgia summer sun tended to get the earth and everything on it hot before noon. The railing was rough beneath her palms, though grounding enough that she found herself absentmindedly tracing the weathered grain with the pad of her thumb.

Below her, just a couple hundred feet away, the blue surface of the pool glittered beneath the relentless sun, its surface forever changing as each wave of water hit a new beam of sun. Every kick, every splash, every cannonball fractured the light into thousands of dancing shards that skipped across the water before disappearing just as quickly. The children moved through it in a blur of sunburnt shoulders, tangled limbs, and uninhibited laughter - each one somehow louder than the last.

Anna’s eyes found Charlie without effort, just like they always did. Charlie darted through the shallow end with the sort of confidence only children possessed. The kind of unwavering confidence only her child could possess. Just under 4, she obtained fearlessness in a way the world hadn't yet taught her not to be. She bounced from one game to the next without ever truly finishing the first, inventing rules as she went, squealing in protest whenever Cooper splashed her before retaliating twice as hard. Wet strands of brown hair clung to her cheeks and neck beneath the pacification of her glittered-pink goggles. Her swimsuit, a size too big Anna had noticed, began slipping crooked on one shoulder from hours spent climbing in and out of the water. Every few minutes she'd stop whatever impossible game she was playing simply to look toward the deck in search of something.

Searching for Anna. Which, ultimately, never took long to find. The moment their eyes met, only fleeting and in passing, Charlie's entire face transformed. She'd shot Anna that impossibly wide, gap-toothed grin paired with two engrained dimples on both cheeks. Anna grinned to herself, admiring how she’d just looked so much like…

She caught the thought before it finished itself, throwing a hand to her midsection as if she was trying to keep herself from the feeling of being sick. She lifted her free hand and waved, instead. Charlie waved back with both arms as though one simply wouldn't be sufficient enough, disappearing beneath the water again. She was perfectly content in the certainty that her mother was still exactly where she'd expected her to be as Vivienne flipped another page in her magazine.

There was something almost enviable about the ease with which Vivienne occupied her life. Not because it was perfect. Anna knew, better than anyone most days, that perfection was a myth mothers (and everyone else, honestly) told themselves to make the hard days feel less lonely and the shortcomings feel more trivial. Vivienne had kids who woke up before the sun did. She had a laundry-room filled with clothes that never quite found its way out of baskets. She had bills to pay, and a husband who somehow managed to leave every cabinet door in the kitchen hanging open before breakfast was over. 

But, nonetheless, she had certainty. There was a quiet confidence that settled into the spaces between her movements. Anna had chalked it up to being born from years of waking beside the same man, raising the same children, building the same life one ordinary day after another. Tomorrow would look much like today - grocery runs, soccer practices, bedtime stories, and shuffling the kids from one activity to another. There’d be nail appointments scattered somewhere within there. On particularly eventful days, she’d meet friends for drinks or get a blowout. The entire family brood would barrel into Ollie and Cici’s house every Saturday for dinner, then every Sunday morning for breakfast. Just like they always did in the summers when time made itself available to do so. Cooper would keep trying to cannonball into the pool from increasingly dangerous heights. Blake would insist he wasn't tired long after rubbing sleep from his eyes. Lilly would still ask for more dessert after crashing out from a sugar high, like nobody noticed. 

The shape of Vivienne's future had already been drawn. Its lines weren't always straight, but they were there. Anna couldn't remember the last time her own life had felt so clearly outlined, and it drove her to a place of desperate yearning for that corner of certainty. Yesterday had erased whatever blueprint she'd spent four years painstakingly sketching.

Every decision she'd made since Charlie's birth had belonged solely to her. And she wasn’t remiss to not acknowledge, in hindsight of recent events in this same backyard hours earlier, the selfishness of it all. Nonetheless, having full autonomy to carefully create the happiest, sheltered life for someone who became her entire life brought her peace. Every single routine had been hers to create however she saw most fitting. Every tradition, every boundary, every plan for next week and next year had lived quietly inside her own hands, untouched by anyone else's opinion. It had been exhausting at times, sure. But it always felt safe.

Now, for the first time in nearly four years, the future stretched before her as something unfamiliar. Not empty, but more crowded. There was another person standing at the edge of it now, and it wasn’t a stranger. Somehow, that made it infinitely more frightening. Harry hadn't simply reappeared in St Marys, he had suddenly forced himself into every tomorrow she’d already imagined. 

“Mommy!” Charlie's voice sailed across the backyard, bright enough to cut clean through the steady chorus of cicadas.

Anna blinked once, yanked abruptly from the thoughts she'd been trying (and failing) to outrun. Charlie had climbed onto the second pool step, those pink goggles cinched so tightly around her head they squished her cheeks together and bunched her hair forward. Wet strands of knotted curls clung stubbornly to her jawline and forehead, dripping a slow trail of water down the tip of her nose. She pushed the goggles up at the foggy lenses with her pudgy fingers before immediately pulling them back over her eyes, oblivious to how crooked they'd become.

“Watch this one!” she called excitedly, bouncing twice where she stood as water sloshed at her ankles. “This one's gonna be my biggest jump ever!”

Anna couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Your biggest jump? No way!” she teased. 

Charlie nodded with unwavering conviction. “Way bigger.”

“Well,” Anna laughed, pushing herself away from the railing. “G’head and prove it!”

Charlie beamed, reassured she'd secured her mother's undivided attention. She waddled backward through the water with all the confidence in the world before throwing both arms into the air. She proceeded to launch herself like a ragdoll from the step with an overly exaggerated squeal, tucking her knees far too  to accomplish anything resembling a cannonball. She disappeared beneath the surface with a modest and face-first splash before bursting back up a second r, coughing through delighted giggles.

“Did you see?” She panted eagerly

Anna clapped dramatically. “I’m totally impressed, Lottie bean.”

“Was it giant?”

“It might've shaken all of Camden County… so yeah. That’s pretty giant.”

Charlie's grin stretched impossibly wider. “I knew it!”

She spun around and immediately swam off toward Blake and Lilly, already chasing whatever game had captured her attention next. Already bored of whatever was holding her attention moments ago. Anna watched her sloppily swim off, the smile lingering for another moment before slowly softening into the abyss. Children had a remarkable way of demanding someone’s presence. Charlie never allowed her to stay lost in her own head for very long. She was still watching the kids bicker over whose turn it was to jump next when the patio door creaked open behind her.

“Looks like you could use one o’these.”

Anna turned halfway to her left as her father briefly balanced the patio door open with his hip, ice clinking gently against the sides of tall glasses with every measured step he took.

Ollie's voice was warm and familiar as he stepped onto the deck, the sun-drenched wood of the deck creaking slightly as his shoes shuffled against them. Pressed to his palms were two sweating glasses of sweet tea balanced carefully in his grasp, the damp glass eliciting beads of water to dribble down his wrists. 

His tone had a way of always carrying the unmistakable cadence of coastal, small town Georgia. It was as though every syllable was softened by years spent beneath the same humid skies and sticky heat that raised him. It wasn't loud enough to compete with the children or the cicadas, nor did it need to be. Somehow, people always heard Oliver Wilson. 

She accepted the glass without hesitation. “Thanks, Daddy.”

He offered nothing more than a nod of the head and a gentle smile, settling contently beside her against the railing with ease. As if he'd been standing there all afternoon. There'd never been much urgency to Ollie. At fifty-nine, he moved through life with the quiet confidence of someone who'd long ago discovered that very few things required immediate action.

The years had silvered more of his dark hair than not, though the stubborn streaks of black still clung to his temples with remarkable determination. His skin was delicately weathered, physical proof of decades beneath the unforgiving Georgia sun. It was as though he was permanently bronzed and lined in all the places a man who smiled often ought to be. Anna can’t remember a time where he didn’t have smile lines and a perfect tan, even as a little girl. Deep crow's feet fanned from the corners of warm, rich brown eyes that somehow always looked amused, even when he wasn't smiling.

And, as an evenly balanced contrast from his bride of 30 plus years, he'd never been an imposing man. Solid, definitely. Broad enough through the shoulders to look dependable rather than intimidating. His forearms still carried the quiet strength built from a lifetime of fixing anything he thought necessary, hauling coolers full of beer, mending fences, carrying grandchildren two at a time, and perpetually insisting he didn't need help doing any of it. 

His faded, worn out University of Georgia t-shirt had seen enough summers to qualify as vintage, hanging loosely and raggedly over worn khaki shorts with a pair of weathered leather sandals that Cici insisted should've been thrown away sometime during the previous presidential administration. He refused. "They ain't broke," was always his defense. Cici’s response never changed. "They're held together by hope and duct tape, Oliver." He'd simply grin, promise to buy a new pair, and continue wearing the old ones for another year. Which bled into another year, then another. Anna smiled faintly at the familiar sight, the conversation gently ringing in her ear from memory. Some things in the Wilson family were simply permanent.

Ollie leaned comfortably into his forearms against the railing beside hers, the ice in his tea shifting as he took an unhurried sip. He wiped a splash of water from his top lip while neither of them spoke. Which was fine - they didn't need to. The silence between them had never been uncomfortable. If anything, it was a simple comfort that was never taken for granted.  It was one of Anna's favorite things about her father.

Where Cici filled quiet with conversation, questions, and motherly concern that often bordered on overbearing interrogation, Ollie was a relieving opposite. He had always understood that silence wasn't something needing to be fixed or replaced. Sometimes it was simply another way people sat beside each other. Another way to truly relish good company.

Together, they watched Cooper forcefully launch himself off the diving board with spectacular overconfidence for a tiny-framed boy. The resulting cannonball drenched everyone within a ten-foot radius, copious amounts of water projecting to the area around him wherever it could manage to reach. Blake sputtered dramatically in horror. Charlie shrieked with delighted laughter. Lilly looked personally betrayed by the wave that sloshed over her pink floaties, her bottom lip jutting out as she readied herself to cry.

Without missing a beat, Vivienne lowered her sunglasses just enough to peer over the rims. "Cooper James Wilson."

"What?" He shrugged, lapping at water in place to keep him afloat.

"You know exactly what."

"I didn't even do nothin', momma! Swear it!"

"You soaked your baby sister."

“So?” He answered flatly. "I soaked everybody."

"That don't somehow make it better."

"It kinda does." He perpetuated. “Not like I did it to Lilly on purpose.

Vivienne sighed toward the heavens. "Ollie," she called without taking her eyes off Cooper, "would you kindly explain to your grandson why intentionally assaultin' your cousins and siblings with tidal waves ain't considered polite?"

Ollie didn't even look up from his tea. "Well..." He scratched thoughtfully at the gray stubble lining his jaw. "I reckon it depends."

Vivienne turned slowly. "Depends?"

"Mhm." He nodded toward Cooper. "If he'd announced the cannonball beforehand..." he mused. "Folks would've had a fair opportunity to prepare themselves."

Vivienne stared at her father-in-law in complete disbelief. "So your solution..."

"Manners."

Vivienne nodded curtly. "...is manners. Right."

"I've always found manners solve most things."

Cooper puffed out his chest triumphantly. "See!"

Ollie raised a finger. "Now hold on there, partner." The boy's grin faltered. "Cannonball's still against the law."

Cooper pressed on. "Who made that law?"

"I just did. It’s my house, pal. But..." Ollie added thoughtfully, "I suspect the punishment oughta fit the crime."

Cooper's eyes narrowed. "What punishment?"

Ollie pointed toward Lillie. "I reckon she gets the next splash."

Lillie's face lit up with absolute delight. "I DO?"

"You most certainly do, sweet pea. Knock it out the park!"

The three younger children descended upon Cooper with gleeful determination while he shouted about corruption and unfair government. Anna laughed - really laughed a genuine, guttural laugh - for the first time in days. The sound escaped before she realized she'd been trying to suppress it all afternoon. She felt the weight of Ollie’s stare shift its direction as he took a glance sideways at her. It wasn’t enough to make her self-conscious, but enough to get her to notice.

He smiled into his tea. "There she is."

“Who, me?” Anna looked over. “What do you mean?”

"Haven't heard that laugh since yesterday mornin'." He mused. “Couple o’ days, even.”

She looked back toward the pool, her smile fading only slightly. "I didn't realize."

He didn't elaborate or felt the need to press further and ask why. He didn't tell her she ought to laugh more and find the simple joys in life, much as she imagined her mother would drag on about that. He simply acknowledged it the way he acknowledged most things - with gentle observation instead of commentary. That was Ollie's gift.

He had an uncanny, unmatched ability to make people feel seen without ever making them feel examined. Like they were under a microscope. Anna had spent her entire childhood, and even some of her adult life, wondering how he'd done it. He'd been the same, consistent father whether she'd come home with straight A's or a speeding ticket. Whether she'd won awards or made spectacular mistakes. He celebrated quietly, corrected gently, and somehow possessed an almost supernatural faith that his children would find their way if given enough room to become themselves. He rarely raised his voice and rarely lectured. Anna could count on one hand when she’d ever been yelled at or patronized. And when reflecting back on any of those rare instances, sure enough, she more than rightfully deserved it. 

Disappointment from Ollie Wilson had always carried more weight than anger ever could. Maybe that was why all three of his children still sought his approval well into adulthood. Not because he'd ever required it, but because he'd always made them believe they were capable of earning it. Anna had never quite outgrown that feeling and strongly doubted she ever would. 

She recalled driving back into St. Mary's long after midnight, four years ago, every mile between Los Angeles and coastal Georgia having done nothing to quiet the dread clawing at her ribs. The trunk of her car packed to the brim, struggling to hold everything she'd managed to fit into it. The rest of her life, the home she’d known for the past few years, her friends, her business, the version of herself she'd spent years building, her relationship, had been left scattered nearly twenty-five hundred miles behind her. Every highway she'd taken east had only brought her closer to the conversation she'd spent days rehearsing and still couldn't bear to have.

She'd convinced herself of the worst, of every horrific outcome that hung over her head, long before she'd ever pulled into the driveway. She was sure that her father would look at her differently. She was sure that she’d turn up on the front porch, and all he'd see was the twenty-five-year-old daughter who'd left Georgia chasing big dreams only to come home heartbroken, pregnant, and alone. She'd imagined the disappointment a hundred different ways during the drive. All the questions, the silence, the quiet realization that she'd somehow become the cautionary tale at the hands of her mother. The same one she'd spent her whole life trying not to be. By the time she'd killed the engine beneath the old oak tree in front of the house, she'd sat in the driver's seat for nearly twenty minutes, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her hands had cramped, unable to make herself walk inside as she feverishly and poignantly wiped away away the wetness of a tear stained face.

The porch light had flickered on before she'd even opened the car door. And out stepped Oillie onto the front porch, clad in an old pair of plaid pajama pants and a ratty Braves t-shirt. Even his reading glasses were still perched crookedly on the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know she was coming. Anna hadn’t told anyone - Izzy, her mother. No one. Ollie hadn't even asked why she was home once she’d arrived. He hadn't asked why she'd shown up in the middle of the night with tear-stained cheeks, a flushed face, and half her life packed into the back of her car.

He'd crossed the yard without a word and wrapped both arms around her before she'd managed to say a single one herself. That’s when Anna had broken almost instantly.

She'd wept so hard she could barely catch her breath, apologizing between sobs for mistakes she hadn't even gotten to explain yet. Sorry for coming home, for leaving, for failing, for the baby nobody but Izzy had known about. Sorry for everything. Ollie had simply held her tighter, one weathered hand smoothing slowly over the back of her head the same way he had when she was little, until the words finally ran out.

"You ain't gotta carry this by yourself anymore, Annie-girl," he'd murmured into her hair, his voice steady enough for the both of them before placing a reassuring kiss to her hairline. "Whatever's waitin' for us inside that house, we'll figure it out together. You hear me? There ain't a thing in this world that's ever gonna make you too much for your mama or me. Not one thing."

It was the first time since leaving Los Angeles that she'd believed she might survive what came next. That moment reminded her of this one - Ollie standing next to her on the deck, readying himself to give her advice just as he did that night years back. He swirled the melting ice around his glass before taking another sip.

"You know," he said casually, eyes still following Charlie as she paddled determinedly toward the deep end, "I been thinkin'."

Anna smiled into her tea. "That usually means one of two things."

"Oh?"

"Either you've invented another project Mom's gonna pretend she isn't mad about..." Anna started, which Ollie met with a chuckle. "...or you're fixin' to tell me somethin' I probably don't wanna hear."

The corners of Ollie's mouth twitched. "See, not even big ole’ New York City can wrangle that last bit o’ twang outta you."

Anna let out a quiet huff through her nose, shaking her head as she looked back toward the pool. "Don't change the subject."

"I wasn't."

She laughed casually. "You absolutely were."

"Might've been just a little." Ollie admitted with a playful shrug.

She rolled her eyes affectionately, but the smile lingered another second before fading beneath the weight she'd been carrying since last night. The silence that settled between them felt different this time. It wasn’t awkward, but it undeniably leaned on the expectant.

As per usual, Ollie didn't rush to fill it. He simply took it as another opportunity to take a generous  sip of his tea, his gaze drifting lazily across the backyard as Charlie paddled after Cooper with all the determination an almost-four-year-old could physically muster. Somewhere behind them, Cici laughed loudly enough to be heard through the open patio doors, followed by the unmistakable clang of a pot meeting the stovetop. Life carried on, and Anna hated how easily it managed to.

Her fingers tightened instinctively around the cool, sweaty glass in her hand, willfully letting condensation dampen her palm. She knew what was coming next. Subconsciously, she'd known the moment Ollie stepped onto the deck. And truthfully, she'd known the second she'd opened her eyes that morning.

There was no pretending yesterday hadn't happened. This was never going to be something she could tuck neatly into a corner of her mind to unpack a different day. Harry existed now in a way he never had before. He was no longer existing as a haunting memory she'd spent years learning to live around. And he wasn’t just Charlie's father as a concept anymore. He was tangible, present, and unavoidable. Whether she was ready to face that reality hardly mattered at this point.

She'd spent nearly four years making every decision alone. Every bruise, every bedtime regimen, every doctor's appointment, every birthday candle, every school drop-off or playdate pick-up. So far, they'd all belonged solely to her. Yesterday had completely dismantled that certainty.

And for the first time in a long time… Anna didn't know what came next. It was an unfamiliar feeling that she abhorred because she'd always had a plan. This time, she didn't even know where to begin. To calm the onset of jagged nerves, her eyes wandered to Charlie again. She looked so impossibly small in the middle of the pool, so blissfully unaware. Anna wondered how long she could keep it that way.

Beside her, Ollie remained patient as ever, never once nudging the conversation forward. He would wait all afternoon if she needed him to, even into the  evening. Probably all week, if Anna chose. That was the thing about her father - he'd never force you to carry something before you were ready, but he'd never let you carry it alone, either.

Anna exhaled slowly through a rough breath, finally dragging her eyes away from the water. She glanced sideways at him, already finding him watching her with that same quiet steadiness he'd worn her entire life. It brought a general sense of ease that she didn’t know she needed.

"Alright," she murmured, resignation softening the edges of her voice. "We can rip the band-aid off, now."

Ollie chuckled as he angled his body to square her better. “Darlin’, I ain’t gonna talk about anything you don’t want to talk about. You know that.”

“Well if we don’t talk it out now, she will at some point.” Anna’s head nodded towards the screen door, the barrier between them and Cici. “Though I’m sure she already gave you every miniscule detail.” 

“She talks a lot.” Ollie reveled through a grin before hushing his tone. “And I mostly do more noddin’ and less listenin’.” 

She looked at him over the rim of her glass, one brow arching. "She knows when you do that, by the way"

Ollie only met her with a smug shrug of his shoulders. "I never said she didn't."

"Then why even do that?" Anna chuckled.

"'Cause sometimes folks don't need somebody listenin'." He smiled to himself. "They just need somebody to talk at."

Anna laughed again, fuller this time. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet..." he said, his grin widening. "She still likes me."

Their laughter dissolved as naturally as it had begun, disappearing beneath another eruption of splashing from the pool. Charlie had somehow convinced Cooper and Blake that the inflatable raft had become a sinking pirate ship. She barked out dramatic instructions from beneath those ridiculous pink goggles that had long since fogged over, her pudgy finger pointing frantically toward imaginary danger while Cooper argued they ought to abandon ship entirely. Blake, committed to the bit as ever, disappeared beneath the water with an exaggerated gasp as if he was sinking. Vivienne didn't so much as glance up from her lounge chair.

"If one of y'all actually starts drownin'," she called lazily, "do me a favor and make it look more believable."

Three tiny voices erupted into delighted protests. A smile loitered on Anna's face as she observed Charlie hurl her entire body into the game without any sort of hesitation. There wasn't a self-conscious bone in that child’s. She loved and laughed loudly, imagined even louder. Everything Charlie felt lived right there on the surface and she wore it all on her face. Even carried it in her little skips and walks. Anna both cherished and envied that.

Beside her, Ollie swirled the melting ice around his glass before speaking again. "You get any sleep?”

"Not really." She looked down at the condensation gathering around her fingers.

"No?"

"Maybe a couple of hours." A humorless smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. "Every time I got close, it was like my brain found something else to replay on a loop and I was suddenly wired."

Ollie nodded once. "I figured."

Silence settled between them again. Not the easy kind they'd shared only moments before. This one arrived with purpose.

The laughter from the pool swept across the backyard in hurried bursts before melting into the steady hum of cicadas. Inside, cabinet doors opened and closed while Cici hummed absentmindedly through each meticulous task of conjuring dinner. The afternoon continued exactly as it had all day, bleeding into early evening, blissfully unaware that beneath its ordinary rhythm sat two people quietly circling a conversation neither of them had been eager to begin. Anna stared out at the water, following Charlie as she paddled after her cousins. She knew there wasn't much use putting it off anymore. If there was anyone whose opinion she trusted enough to hear, even when she didn't want to, it was the man standing beside her.

“I was up too late.” She shrugged. “Just… I don’t know. Thinking, I guess.”

The pads of Anna's fingers found the weathered edge of the deck railing, her thumbnail worrying absentmindedly at a tiny splinter where years of Georgia summers had begun to lift the grain. She peeled at it mindlessly, letting the grainy wood catch beneath her nail until it broke free in a paper-thin curl. She rolled it between her fingertips, staring at how it splintered even further, before dropping it to the deck below to meet the top of the grass.

Beside her, Ollie remained still. He wasn't watching the pool anymore. He was watching her. Anna could feel it without looking. She shifted her weight onto her other foot, crossed one ankle over the other, uncrossed it again. Her bottom lip disappeared briefly between her teeth before she let it go with a quiet sigh. The cicadas seemed louder now. Charlie's laughter drifted across the yard in bright little bursts, followed by Cooper declaring himself captain of whatever imaginary adventure had overtaken the pool.

Ollie waited another moment. He always had an incredible knack for patience. "What about?" 

“If he got back…” she started slowly. “You know, wherever he was going.”

Anna hesitated. It felt ridiculous now that she was about to say it out loud. She scraped another loose piece of wood from the railing before sending it tumbling onto the deck, her eyes following it as though it were suddenly fascinating. Silence followed suit again, and she was taken by how she emud her mother in this moment - how the breaks and pauses between exchanges felt too unbearable to permit.

"Harry, you mean?"

"Yeah." Anna gave a single nod before swallowing. "I know it sounds stupid."

"It don't."

"I just..." She exhaled through her nose as frustration threaded through her tone. "His hotel's, what...forty-five minutes? An hour? He left so upset, and I kept thinking… Whatever. It’s dumb."

For the first time since assuming a spot beside Anna upon the deck, Ollie pulled his gaze away from her. Instead, it drifted toward the marsh beyond the trees. Thoughtful and unhurried. 

"I'm sure he found his way back alright," he said quietly. "Boy's made a career outta findin' his way ‘round places that ain't home."

Anna nodded blankly, though it did little to settle the restless ache twisting inside her. "Yeah… I don't even know why I was worrying."

Ollie let the silence breathe for another beat before answering. "I think you do."

Anna's idle hand finally stilled against the railing instead of fidgeting with whatever her fingers could find. For the first time since yesterday afternoon, she allowed herself to consider what came after. In the wake of the argument, she allowed herself to acknowledge what after might look like. The realization settled low and heavy in her stomach.

She'd spent the past handful of years truly believing that if she could just make it through one more birthday, another Christmas, another doctor's appointment, just one more difficult conversation, she'd eventually outrun the consequences of the decision she'd made in Los Angeles. Instead, they'd been waiting for her all along. 

Harry disappeared yesterday without another word. He'd declined dinner. He hadn't called. He hadn't texted. Perhaps that was her own fault, seeing as she didn’t give him much to work on as far as means of communicating. After all, he was probably still blocked and she’d long since changed her number. But still, he hadn't come back. Her mind, cruel and unforgiving as ever, had eagerly stepped in to fill the gaps.

Maybe he'd assumed she was lying, and that’s why he left. Or maybe he already called a lawyer. She shuttered when she considered the very real possibility of waking up to custody papers sitting in her mailbox. The idea of pulling open the little door of the red painted box at the end of the driveway to an official envelope - she couldn’t even finish the thought. By next week, she’d convinced herself that every gossip site on the internet would have Charlie's face plastered across it beneath headlines she'd spent years praying would never exist. Maybe Harry hated her. And maybe, she thought, he really should. Every possibility seemed somehow more terrifying than the last.

And the hardest part of all it was that she didn't have the faintest idea what she was supposed to do next. There wasn't a decision she could simply make and just move forward with while keeping her head down. Whatever happened now wouldn't belong solely to her anymore, and she couldn’t stand how helpless that made her feel. 

Her throat tightened. She stared out across the water, blinking against the sting behind her eyes before finally finding the courage to say the thing she'd been carrying since Harry walked away.

"I think I really fucked this up, Daddy."

Ollie was quiet for a long moment. It wasn’t because he didn’t know how to answer. It was because he wanted to make sure she knew she had room to say more if she chose. Finally, he rested both forearms against the railing beside hers.

"Annie-girl..." he said softly. "There ain't much sense in punishin' yourself over yesterday."

"No." A humorless laugh escaped her. "No, I really fucked this up. I mean in general, not just yesterday. Though I really outdid myself yesterday, too."

"You didn't see the look on his face when it kinda clicked…" She struggled to force the words out. "He couldn't even look at me. And when he did, I felt small - like the worst person in the world. Even just thinking about it makes me sick."

Ollie let the silence settle instead of rushing to fill it. When he finally spoke, his voice carried no judgment.

"Now I ain't pickin' sides. But I imagine..." He glanced toward Charlie before looking back at the marsh. "...that wasn't an easy thing for him to hear."

"He said he hates me.” The words left Anna before she even realized she'd answered. “So you’re imagining it pretty accurately.”

The words settled over them with a blanketing softness, like a rain skating gently across hot pavement. Anna had fully braced herself for contradiction. She was prepared for someone to gently correct her, wisely remind her of the logic behind all these tough choices. She anticipated someone to swoop in and wrap her in reassurances, assuring her that everything would eventually find its way back into its rightful place. Instead, Ollie had done what he was best at doing with that familiar, quiet mastery. All he did was create a space - completely wide and entirely unguarded space - for the truth to exist without any sort of resistance.

Anna let her stare drift across the pool until it found the spot where Charlie floated on her back, her limbs loose and completely untroubled. All the while Cooper made a quite valiant but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to send buoyant splashes her way from a healthy distance. The other half of Anna, just a couple feet away, ripped a laugh so vivacious it carried across the water. It captured Charlie perfectly: bright and unburdened, almost as if she belonged to another realm entirely. A place wholly untouched by sudden revelations. A kind of place where lives didn’t splinter and the innocence of childhood wasn’t interrupted by questions too large for anyone to answer.

She inhaled slowly, the breath measured and deliberate as it trailed through her nose and exited through her mouth. Her thumb continued to absently tracing the faint, damp ring of melted water that her glass had left on the sun-warmed railing.

There was more broiling beneath the surface. Not only just remorse, but something sharper. Perhaps an unease that had nestled itself beneath her ribs the day before and refused to give up its spot. A quiet, persistent dread she had spent the past 17 hours trying to outpace, filling her day with whatever sort of motion and distraction she could scrounge up. Now, standing beside Ollie, she felt the strain of carrying it alone begin to wear impossibly thin.

A quiet, humorless laugh slipped from Anna before she could even try to subdue it. It sounded wrong the moment it left her. It was thin and hollow, stripped bare of anything remotely resembling amusement. The kind of laugh someone elicited when they ran out of options or when there was nothing left to say and nowhere left to hide.She shook her head once. Maybe more to herself than to her father, as if trying to dislodge the sound from the air. 

Then, slowly, she turned to face him. “I asked him to come back. I told him…” She hesitated, her throat tightening as she searched for the right words. 

“I offered dinner - just the two of us. Only to talk about Charlie and, just, y’know, figure out…” Her voice faltered, uncertainty creeping in. “I don’t know… what this is supposed to even look like?”

Her gaze ripped itself away from him almost in defiance, settling instead on the deck. As though she were too angry to look at him. Too embarrassed and ashamed. A bead of condensation slid lazily down the side of her glass, catching the light as it fell and pooling at her manicured thumb cuticle. In a manic state around 3am (or 4, she’d stop checking the clock on her nightstand), she’d peeled off all her nail polish. Just itching for something to occupy her attention instead of succumbing to her thoughts.

She quickly wiped her palm on her jean shorts. “I figured we’d both cool off a little and then regroup. Like adults.”

A quiet beat passed between them, stretching just long enough to feel heavy. “So what’d he say?”

Ollie’s question came carefully, delivered with a gentle tone. Almost enough to disguise the flicker of hope tucked beneath it, anxiously waiting to hear his daughter tell him Harry was actually on his way. Anna’s lips curved into a crooked smile that never managed to reach her eyes.

She gave a small, defeated nod. “He basically told me to go fuck myself.”

The bluntness of it landed hard, the words hanging in the space between them like something solid.

“Then, obviously, he left.”

Ollie’s jaw shifted into a grind like fixture, the movement subtle but unmistakable. His eyes wandered over the yard, flickering past Charlie as she floated contently near the steps. Her tiny frame buoyed by the water, her laughter convivial and jubilant. She had no idea - no idea at all - that two adults stood just a few yards away, trying to piece together a future that orbited with her right at the epicenter.

Not a single part of him enjoyed hearing that. No father ever wanted to imagine his little girl standing outside alone at night, watching someone she loved walk away from her whilst blinded by anger. Every instinct in him bristled at the thought. The protective and indignant part of him fully ready to take her side without hesitation.

The quieter, steadier part that had carried him through several years of marriage, fatherhood, and everything life had thrown his way, held him back. The more he stewed on it, the more he couldn’t even imagine what it would truly feel like to discover that one of his children had existed for four years practically right under his nose. The thought alone hollowed something out inside him, and he couldn’t definitively say for sure he’d have found kinder words than Harry had. Anna mistook his silence for agreement.

Her shoulders sagged another inch, the weight of it all settling deeper into her bones.“I’m terrified, Daddy.”

Her eyes finally lifted to meet his, searching and uncertain.

“They’re probably ridiculous thoughts, but…” She shook her head, blinking hard as she tried to keep herself together. “I can’t get them to stop. Like, what if he tells the wrong person? And that person tells everybody?” 

“Anna I doubt he’ll-”

She couldn’t stop, now. Just kept going down the list. “She’ll never have privacy again. Never remember what a normal childhood is like. What if a lawyer shows up? You know, a guy in an expensive suit with a thick envelope of papers. Custody papers.”

“Custody papers?” Ollie alarmingly raised both of his eyebrows so much they nearly hit his hairline. “I think you’ve been watchin’ too much TV, kiddo.”

“It’ll never be simple like this again.” Anna’s lip just barely quivered. “She’ll spend half the year in England, or wherever. Completely out of my sight.”

He let her speak, let every fear spill out and settle into the open air between them before he said a word. When she finally fell quiet, he reached out, resting one weathered hand over hers where it gripped the railing. His thumb brushed gently across her knuckles, grounding, steady. 

Then, with all the quiet certainty of a father who had spent her entire life proving that home was never conditional, he said softly, “He’ll be back.”

“‘He’ll be back,’” she repeated, managing the faintest roll of her eyes. “Real reassuring, Daddy.”

Ollie’s smile tugged gently at one corner of his mouth. “I’m serious, Annie-girl.”

“Yeah, so am I.” She glanced back toward the pool, letting her gaze linger there. “You couldn’t see his face… see how angry he was.”

“No,” Ollie admitted evenly. “I didn’t.”

A breeze trickled slowly through the yard, stirring and twirling the Spanish moss that hung lazily from the weather-worn old oaks. Charlie squealed triumphantly as Cooper surrendered the inflatable raft, declaring her captain of the pirate ship after all. The children dissolved into another fit of laughter so rambunctious it was sure to have traveled clear across the marsh.

Ollie watched her for a long moment before speaking again. “But Izzy did. She told me about last night… about Charlie wanderin’ into the kitchen.”

Anna’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. Her tongue ran over the front of her teeth behind pursed lips as her fingers toyed with a stray piece of fabric from her shorts. She just craned her neck a bit, silently inviting Ollie to go on.

“She said the second his eyes landed on her… it was like somebody reached inside him and flipped a light on.”

Anna’s expression softened despite herself. “He didn’t even say anything about that. Izzy even said he said nothing when she came in.”

“Izzy said he just sorta looked at her. Not in a curious sort of way.” He shook his head, his line of sight falling on Charlie again as she bobbed manically through the water. “She said it looked like he couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t stop lookin’. That sort of thing.”

Anna swallowed. The image of it all nestled itself quietly between them. A man unknowingly staring at his own daughter, drawn toward her before he’d even been given a reason to. She thought back to the way Harry had studied Charlie as she searched for Honey through the kitchen. The smile he’d tried (and failed) to hide. The studied gaze he fixed on her features. She noticed it yesterday, she just hadn’t understood it until afterward.

“Ain’t the kind of thing you force,” Ollie went on, “It just happens.”

Silence blanketed them once more. Not heavy this time, but introspective and thoughtful. Anna watched Charlie disappear beneath the surface before popping back up with both fists triumphantly in the air. For just a second, she saw yesterday through Harry’s eyes instead of her own—meeting Charlie, laughing with Charlie, being inexplicably drawn toward Charlie… only to learn she’d belonged to him all along. It made her chest ache.

Ollie took another slow sip of his tea. “Now that ain’t to say I’m gonna defend the way he left.”

“Yeah, well,” Anna said quietly. “You shouldn’t, I guess.”

He rested his hip on the railing, body square to Anna. “Listen, kiddo, anger like that…” He took a pause as he searched for the right words. “It don’t come from indifference.”

Anna remained silent, her eyes fixed on the pool. She could feel the unbiased weight of Ollie’s eyes resting directly atop her. But she knew that, if she turned to face her father, she’d succumb to an onset of unstoppable tears.

“You don’t get that angry over somebody you don’t love,” he continued. “You get angry because somewhere underneath all that hurt… there’s still somethin’ worth hurtin’ over.”

Anna felt her throat tighten. Ollie wasn’t talking only about Charlie. He knew that. She knew that. Neither of them acknowledged it.

“He is a good man, Annie-girl, but not without flaws.” Ollie put it simply. “He’ll say things he wishes he hadn’t. He’ll probably make a mess of this before he figures out how not to. But he is fair. And whatever else happens…” His eyes finally met hers with quiet certainty. “I don’t believe for one second he’s gonna send some fella in a tailored suit knockin’ on my front door with stack o’ papers. I don’t believe he’s gonna sell his own child to the papers. And I sure as hell don’t believe he’s spent the better part of four years lovin’ you only to start communicatin’ through lawyers.”

He let that settle between them. “I think yesterday broke his heart,” he added after a beat. “And I think broken hearts have a way of sayin’ ugly things.”

He reached over, giving the back of Anna’s hand one gentle pat before returning it to his glass. “But broken ain’t the same thing as gone.” He glanced toward the house, his voice quiet now. “That’s why I told you… he’ll be back.”

Anna remained completely quiet for so long that Ollie began to ponder if she’d even heard anything he’d said. The vivacious sounds emulating from the pool sung on around them, interrupting the stillness between them. Loud splashes, childish laughter, the distant bark of Tuck and Vivienne’s family dog. But beside him, Anna had fallen unnervingly still.

When she finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a breath. “I don’t trust him.”

The words hung in the air before settling in the physical space between them, heavy and unmoving. Almost immediately, she winced. It felt as though hearing them aloud now had molded them into a new shape, given it a new meaning. They suddenly felt harsher than they had sounded inside her head. 

“It’s not…” She exhaled slowly, rubbing her forehead as if she could smooth the thought into something clearer. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” Ollie said quietly.

Anna turned herself back toward the pool, where she could focus on her child to try and invite more grounding thoughts. Charlie had completely abandoned the makeshift pirate ship and was instead chasing Lilly throughout the shallow end near the stairs. Shrilled shrieking with laughter embedded throughout barreled from both girls, carrying itself clean across the yard with ease. For a moment, Anna just watched them, her expression softening despite herself. If only everything, she thought, was that simple.

“All the bullshit aside, I know that he’s a good person.” There was a pause, and then, more quietly she said, “and I know that he loved me.”

Her jaw tightened, the softness draining from her expression as quickly as it had come. “But I also remember how small it felt trying to build an entire life around someone who could never stay still.”

She went on as her voice started growing quieter and distant, as if she were reciting something she had long ago memorized. “Tour. Press. Another country. Another city. Another schedule. Another commitment.” She gave a small, humorless shake of her head. “His career touches every part of his life. Even the parts he tries to keep for himself. It’s not his fault, but it is his reality.”

Anna’s nimble fingers drifted back to the railing again before she resumed the absent picking of splintered wood. 

“This sounds dumb,” She stared down at the tiny sliver balanced on her fingertip, her brow furrowing slightly. “But sometimes he just felt… really temporary. Sometimes I just felt temporary to him, too.”

Her voice softened, but the conviction in it did not. “How can I willingly subject my child to that? She’s barely four. She doesn’t understand careers and months apart. She doesn’t know the difference between temporary and forever.”

A quiet laugh slipped from her, though there was no humor in it. “I’ve spent four years knowing exactly what tomorrow looked like. Now I don’t even know what next week looks like.”

Ollie listened without interrupting, his attention steady and patient. When her words finally ran out, he let the silence linger for a moment longer before a quiet chuckle escaped him.

Anna turned to him, faintly offended. “What?”

He smiled down into his glass. “You always did have a habit of borrowin’ tomorrow’s worries.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” He rested his elbows on the railing, turning slightly toward her. “So am I. Let me ask you somethin’... where’ve you lived these last ten years?”

Anna’s frown was joined by the bunching of her eyebrows, caught off guard. “Where are you going with this?”

“Georgia,” he started, counting on one finger. “California.” Another. “New York.” Another. “Now back here.” He shrugged lightly. “And somewhere in between all that, I reckon you’ve racked up enough airline miles to circle the globe.”

“Oh c’mon.” Anna winced, just barely, before trying to mask it with a crooked smile. “That’s different.”

“Is it? You’ve built yourself one hell of a career,” Ollie continued, tone warm with pride. “I’m mighty proud of you for it. But don’t pretend your life’s been lived from one front porch.”

Anna peeled her eyes away - a desperate attempt to avoid having to agree with him. She knew the point he was trying to argue and, the worst part was, he wasn’t entirely wrong. It didn’t feel the same to her. Anna’s life had never been even remotely as loud or all consuming like Harry’s always seemed. It never truly demanded so much of her all at once, in one sitting, all of the time. But, in retrospect, it had shaped her all the same. Every long day that bled into late nights, every trip, every last-minute flight had carved its own path through her life. And Charlie’s, too. She’d built something steady for her daughter, something rooted in beauty and creative expression. But Charlie’s life had, for the most part, still been built around the edges of Anna. Her work, her choices, her ambition. One could argue that the difference wasn’t as clean as she’d always told herself it was. Maybe it was just easier for Anna to convince herself that the difference was a lot bigger than it actually is.

“How often are you jettin’ off to different places?” Ollie intended it as a question, but Anna knew better than to answer. “Miami, Paris, Italy… you want me to keep goin’?”

She sighed. “I always come home.”

Ollie’s attention flickered back over towards the edge of the pool, where they squinted in mild amusement over his gaggle of grandkids. Charlie had just climbed out, dripping from head to toe as she raced to the other side to meet Lilly, who immediately bolted in the opposite direction. Then he looked back at Anna.

“I think…” he said, voice measured, “…you’ve spent so much time tryin’ to imagine what this looks like for Charlie…” He paused as he carefully chose his words. “…that you ain’t once stopped to imagine what it looks like for Harry. I don’t reckon he knows what tomorrow looks like any more than you do.”

Her eyes drifted back to the water, thoughtful now as she let herself succumb to the ebb and flow of Ollie’s raspy voice while he continued on.

“You’ve had almost four years to picture every version of Charlie’s future,” he offered a small, understanding smile. “Harry’s had less than twenty-four hours. However scared you are…” Ollie reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’d wager he’s scared too.”

For the first time since yesterday, Anna managed to give herself permission to ponder the possibility that they weren’t standing on opposite sides of the same fight. She considered the very real reality that, while she and Harry stood in different places, they were both staring into the face of the same unknown.

Anna opted out of saying anything for a long while. Her attention remained absentmindedly fixed on Charlie a few yards ahead, though the picture before her gradually lost its sharpness. The repetitive splashing water, the pointed peals of laughter, the lazy sway of Spanish moss overhead. All of it began to merge together before it dissolved into a blur as Ollie’s words settled. They maneuvered their way into Anna, somewhere far deeper than she’d even anticipated. They sank slowly, like thrown stones disappearing beneath still water, until they began disturbing places she had spent years carefully subduing.

Up until now, it’d been so easy to believe there had only ever been one path forward. Twenty-five years old. Heartbroken. Barely pregnant. Furious enough to mistake conviction for clarity. She had jammed the palpable part of her life into the back of a car with trembling hands and swollen eyes, convincing herself every mile eastbound was another act of self-preservation. By the time she’d managed to cross the Georgia state line, she had convinced herself of the trope often enough that it had ceased to feel like a choice at all. 

For these past four years, she had comfortably existed within the confines of that certainty. It had become the unwavering mortar between every brick of the life she’d built. But like most things, certainty had a naggingly peculiar way of eroding beneath the weight of another person’s perspective. She knew each thread of her own reasoning. She knew the betrayal that prompted her to flee from Los Angeles before dawn, putting the city behind her in blurry lights. She knew every sleepless night, the panic, the suffocating loneliness of preparing to become someone’s mother while mourning the death of a life she was once so sure of. She knew every tear she had cried, every sacrifice she had made, every impossible decision she had carried alone. Harry knew none of it. From where he stood, what did it look like?

The question floated into the front of her mind without warning, manifesting itself into a physical ache somewhere beneath her ribs. It forced her to think of yesterday all over again, only this time in the perspective of the man who had been standing across from her. The same man who had shown up to a distantly familiar, sleepy coastal town. A man who had expected little else other than maybe an awkward wedding, where he’d run into the woman who had broken his heart years earlier. A man with, despite everything, unwavering kindness - the type of kindness that gets him to return a family heirloom in person. Only to discover she had secretly carried his child, given birth to his daughter, celebrated nearly four years’ worth of birthdays and Christmas mornings and bedtime stories without him ever even knowing she existed. It dawned on Anna, hauntingly, that the only thing that looked like was the cruelest form of punishment.

The thought hollowed her out. She had spent so much time telling herself she had acted out of protection, that she blindly believed it. At one point amidst it all, she never found it in her to consider just how it would appear to the only other person whose life that decision had irrevocably altered. From the outside, stripped of every private justification she had clung to, it no longer resembled self-preservation quite so neatly. 

The realization settled over her like the unbearable weight of sopping wet wool, and she physically recoiled from it almost instinctively. No, she thought, that wasn’t fair. Harry hadn’t lived the nights she had lived. He hadn’t known the fear that had driven every decision she had made. He hadn’t watched his entire future collapse in the span of a single argument.

Yet, she couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable truth quietly unfurling itself in the corners of her conscience. Intent and perception had never been the same thing. She still believed she had done what she thought was right. But now, she finally wondered whether that mattered nearly as much as she had always convinced herself it did.

The storm of thoughts, almost immediately, began to dissolve as a result of the familiar groan of the screen door easing open behind them. Neither Anna nor Ollie turned right away, they didn't have to. There was only one person in the Wilson family who possessed the uncanny ability to make her presence known before she'd even spoken.

Cici emerged onto the back porch with both hands swallowed by faded blue floral oven mitts that had certainly seen better decades. A dish towel had been thrown carelessly over one shoulder, its corner dusted with flour, while loose wisps of dyed blonde hair had long since escaped the clip meant to contain them. The Georgia heat mixed with the warmth of an over-worked oven had painted her cheeks a rosy pink.

She stopped just outside the patio door and planted one hand firmly against her hip, surveying the backyard with all the quiet authority of a woman who had long ago accepted that no one in this family would ever listen the first time.

Her eyes swept slowly across the pool. Cooper was poorly attempting to teach Blake how to perform what he unwaveringly assured everyone was an "Olympic dive," despite neither boys possessing anything even remotely close to resembling proper form. Lilly sat proudly atop an oversized inflatable flamingo, issuing commands to no one in particular while Charlie paddled determinedly near Vivienne’s post, where their dog Tony sat as his paws scraped the pool surface. Cici sighed toward the heavens.

"Alright now!" she hollered with practiced ease, her voice carrying effortlessly across the backyard. "I'm fixin' to feed every one'a y'all, but I ain't feedin' nobody that's drippin' chlorinated pool water all over my clean floors!"

Just as Cici clapped her oven-mitted hands together, Tony's ears perked up from where he'd been sprawled lazily beneath the umbrella beside Vivienne's chair. The mischievous black Labrador lifted his head, looked from the children to Cici, and, in true Tony fashion, interpreted the sudden commotion as a personal invitation to participate. As soon as he bounded to his feet, Vivienne knew what was about to ensue.

"Oh, Lord..." Vivienne sighed.

Tony, with all the might and energy a 2 year old dog had, feverishly launched himself across the yard. With the kind of reckless enthusiasm only Labradors seemed capable of possessing, he began weaving effortlessly between dripping children as they climbed from the pool. His tail whipped back and forth hard enough to spray water onto anyone unfortunate enough to stand within arm's reach.

"Tony!" Vivienne called after him.

The dog didn't so much as acknowledge she'd spoken. He didn’t look over when his name was called. Instead, he'd found a pink tennis ball abandoned somewhere beneath the azaleas and proudly paraded it through the backyard as though he'd personally unearthed buried treasure.

Charlie gasped. "Heyyyy! Tony's got my ball!"

"That's because you left it outside," Cooper pointed out.

"I was gonna get it!" Charlie whined.

"You said that yesterday."

"I was busy!"

"You've been busy for two days.” Blake teased.

Charlie’s pout came full force. "I know!"

The backyard instantaneously dissolved into the sort of cheerful disorder that always seemed to accompany family affairs at the Wilson house. Children scattered in every direction, each suddenly convinced they possessed just enough time to squeeze in one final game before surrendering to baths and meals. Wet footprints embedded themselves in the sun-dried grass across every conceivable direction of the yard, tiny puddles collecting wherever little feet had paused long enough to argue over who'd won the pirate battle or whose turn it had been to captain the inflatable raft. Tony, on the other hand, had officially declared himself the afternoon's greatest victor.

The black Labrador paraded himself proudly throughout the yard, a slobbery tennis ball clamped between his teeth while his tail swished with such convivial enthusiasm that his entire body seemed to sway in unison. Every few steps he took, he'd brazenly glance over, ensuring his audience remained appropriately invested in his accomplishment before breaking into another delighted sprint once someone tried to get close.

“I didn’t spend all morning waxing my floors for mess,” Cici patronized. “So y’all better snatch that gremlin and wipe his paws ‘for lettin’ him in my house.”

"Oh, honestly..." Vivienne groaned, pushing herself up from the lounge chair with considerably more reluctance than urgency. 

She slid her sunglasses onto the top of her head and sighed dramatically toward the cloudless sky. "Tony, honey, I do not have the cardiovascular endurance for this today."

Tony responded by taking off even faster. Vivienne blinked after him, mouth parted in a state of mild shock. "I know he didn't just do that."

The boys erupted into laughter. Cooper doubled over so hard he nearly toppled back into the pool, bracing himself by throwing his hands to his knees.

"He juked you!" he hollered between cackles. "He absolutely juked you!"

"I saw it!" Blake chimed in, pointing accusingly toward the dog. "He looked at you first!"

Tony fervently circled the old oak tree nearest to the marsh, just once, before stealthily maneuvering himself beneath the patio table. All of which was done with the unmistakable confidence of an animal who knew full well he was faster than every human currently involved. Vivienne came to an abrupt halt as her hands planted themselves precariously on her hips. The dog dropped into a playful bow, front paws stretched out before him, tail whipping furiously as though issuing a formal challenge. His head was ducked - half in amusement, half as a dare. 

Vivienne groaned again. "You think this is funny?"

Tony barked once, and Cooper slapped Blake's shoulder. "He said yes!"

"I heard it too!" Blake agreed in joyous amusement.

"I did not raise y'all to encourage criminal behavior." Vivienne informed the boys matter-of-factly.

She crouched slowly, extending one hand toward Tony with exaggerated patience. "C'mere, sweetheart."

Tony's ears perked.

"Good boy..."

His tail wagged hopefully.

"That's right..."

He took two cautious steps toward her.

"Come on..."

Another step.

Vivienne smiled triumphantly.

"There you -"

Without warning, Tony snatched the tennis ball back off the grass and bolted between her legs. Vivienne let out an anticipatory squeal as she spun awkwardly in place, windmilling both arms to keep herself upright before dissolving into helpless sighs of defeat. Anna watched the spectacle unfold with a smile she hadn't realized she'd been wearing. The sound of her family's laughter floated effortlessly through the humid afternoon, mingling with the steady drone of cicadas and the distant whisper of the marsh beyond the trees. It was loud, chaotic. Entirely unremarkable and borderline ridiculous. Which was precisely what made her feel so comfortably at home.

She extended her arm over towards the patio table, her hand settling on Charlie's faded Bluey towel from the neat stack Cici had laid out earlier that morning. Picking it up, Anna indulged herself with the faint smell of fabric softener laced with sunshine from where it'd been sitting for most of the day. Unfolding it with a practiced snap, Anna caught Charlie's attention with a small wave of her hand.

"C'mon, Lottie bug," she called warmly. "Let's get you dried off before Mimi has a fit."

Charlie's head popped up immediately. "Do I gotta?"

"You do." Anna playfully frowned.

Charlie released the world's most dramatic and theatrical sigh before embarking on her reluctant paddle toward the steps, muttering under her breath about how ‘Mimis’ were ‘always stealing the fun’. Anna smiled contently to herself as she waited at the edge of the deck, Bluey towel held open and ready, knowing full well Charlie would continue to protest right up until the moment she wrapped herself in it like a burrito and melted happily into her mother's arms.

She climbed the deck steps with all the reluctant enthusiasm of a child being asked to leave behind the greatest afternoon of her life. Water streamed from every inch of her, leaving a trail of tiny footprints and small puddles in her wake across the sun-warmed boards. She shuffled toward Anna, her misery exaggerated for effect as she gravely informed her that she hadn’t even been cold, that she would have gotten out eventually. Anna humored her with quiet agreement, and when Charlie tilted her head and amended her claim with a doubtful “probably,” Anna couldn’t help but smile. Without ceremony, she draped it over Charlie’s head until the little girl disappeared entirely beneath soft blue terrycloth. 

Charlie’s muffled squeal of protest dissolved quickly into giggles. “Mama, I can’t see! I disappeared!”

“Oh no!” Anna gasped in mock despair. “Has anyone seen Charlie?”

Playful bumps of small hands shot upward, aimlessly fumbling beneath the confines of the towel until Charlie’s face emerged again. Her grin filled her face, which was flushed a slight shade of pink from the sun and fits of laughter. Wet curls of hair sprang wildly in every direction, refusing to be tamed no matter how many times Anna smoothed them down.

“False alarm,” Anna’s chuckle dwindled to a murmur, “Here she is.”

She gathered the towel in a more condensed bunch around the base of Charlie’s head again. Her hands worked more gently this time, maneuvering in slow circles through her damp hair. Water sept into the fabric with each pass, leaving behind soft and towel-dried waves that curled almost immediately in the humid air. Though only for a moment, Anna’s hands completely stilled.

Since before she could even remember, Anna had always amounted Charlie’s unruly mane to her own. The kink of boundless curls rivaled Anna’s, both heads of hair meeting the fate of their natural-born curl pattern any time water or humidity was at play. But now, with the water weighing it down and the humidity descending, the strands clung in familiar bends around Charlie’s forehead. Each refusing to lie flat no matter how carefully Anna tucked them away.

She’d seen this head of hair on someone else. On a twenty-six-year old boy standing barefoot in the kitchen, sleep still clinging to him as he wandered downstairs each morning. His hair flattened on one side and impossibly unruly on the other. He had never quite been able to tame it either. The memories arrived so suddenly it stole the breath from her lungs. 

Anna swallowed and forced her hands to keep moving. “Hold still, bug.”

“I am holdin’ still.”

“Liar.” Anna teased. “You’ve spun around three times!”

Charlie shrugged unassumingly. “I was just helpin’.”

Anna let out a soft laugh. “Is that what we’re calling wiggling now? Helping?”

Charlie grinned, and there it was again. Those unmistakable dimples. Anna had peppered them with kisses upwards of thousands of times. She’d laughed at them, watched them deepen whenever Charlie was particularly pleased with herself. She’d cooed at them when she’d giggle as a baby. She’d smile smugly and triumphantly when people would swoon over them. She had always thought they were simply Charlie’s. Now she found herself staring.

Harry had smiled exactly like that. The left dimple appeared just a heartbeat before the right, so subtle it was easy to miss unless you knew to look for it. She had known once. And she always remembered to look. Before yesterday, she had somehow forgotten. Or perhaps she had taught herself not to remember at all. 

Anna dragged the towel lower, where she dabbed gently at the droplets still clinging to Charlie’s cheeks. The girl’s skin was warm beneath her fingertips, even with the barrier of the towel. It’d been softened from hours in the Georgia sun, carrying the faint scent of chlorine, SPF, and the watermelon popsicle Charlie snuck after being told no. Charlie scrunched her nose dramatically when Anna rubbed a little too enthusiastically beneath her chin.

“Rubs are too hard.” she protested.

“Oh?” Anna softened her touch immediately. “Sorry.”

Charlie scrunched it again anyway, more out of habit than discomfort, which enticed Anna to come screeching to a halt. It was such a small thing. So small, it was really the kind of habit no one ever seemed to notice. Already having walked down memory lane, Anna realized she did notice it. Not only notice it, but recognize it. Except Harry had always done that exact same thing. Whenever she teased him, whenever coffee tasted too bitter, whenever something amused him just enough to hide a smile, whenever he was wrapped up so deeply in a thought. His nose would wrinkle precisely the same way, the bridge creasing for a fleeting second before smoothing again.

The realization settled over her quietly before smothering her completely. How many times had she seen Charlie make that face? Hundreds. Thousands, even, if not more. Never once had she allowed herself to acknowledge where it came from. Or who it came from. Charlie looked up at her at that exact moment, letting the sunlight catch her eyes.

They bore no resemblance to the rich, deep chocolate of Anna’s eyes. They never had. Years ago, holding this same little girl in front of her as a newborn swaddled in pink blankets, Anna had decided that her eyes were blue. Then gray. Sometimes green, depending on the light. But now, standing beneath the dwindling afternoon sun, she saw them clearly for what they were - impossible to define. Certainly not blue enough to be blue. Not green enough to be green. They were something in between, shifting with the light. They were Harry’s eyes. Charlie blinked, and the sun caught them again. Harry. Everywhere.

Not enough of him was riddled throughout her to erase pieces of Anna from the child before her. Charlie’s mouth was still hers, the shape of her smile and distinctness of her frown. Her laugh was unmistakably credited to the Wilson in her, loud and gleeful and even obnoxious depending on the occasion. Her stubbornness was undoubtedly inherited from generations of women who had never once apologized for it, Anna especially. But scattered throughout her, tucked into the smallest corners of her expressions, were pieces of Harry that Anna suddenly could not stop seeing.

They had always been there, she was only looking differently now. It was as if yesterday had discreetly adjusted the lens through which she had spent almost four years seeing her daughter. As though the truth, once spoken aloud, refused to be hidden again.

“You okay, Mama?” Charlie reached up and patted Anna’s cheek with a damp little hand. 

Anna blinked, pulled back into the present. She hadn’t realized she had stopped moving. A smile came easily. “I am.”

Charlie studied her for a moment, then just as quickly seemed satisfied with the answer she was handed. As predicted for the attention span of a child, another burst of laughter from across the yard caught her attention instead. Cooper had successfully cornered Tony near the hydrangeas, but the black Labrador darted sideways at the last second, refusing to surrender his tennis ball. Cooper lunged after him, only to land in a flop atop a forgotten pool noodle. It shot out from beneath him, sending him pinwheeling before he collapsed into the grass with a dramatic yelp that sent Blake  and Lilly into hysterics.

Charlie burst into laughter so suddenly she nearly doubled over, both dimples carving deep into her cheeks as that obnoxious Anna-inherited laugh ripped clean through the air. Before Anna could stop herself, she saw Harry all over again. Bright and alive, smiling through the face of the little girl who had no idea who her father was.

Behind the barrier of the weathered screen door on the porch, the kitchen had become its own kind of organized pandemonium. Every available inch of counter space had disappeared beneath a disarray of used mixing bowls, cutting boards, serving platters, and ingredients in various stages of dinner. A well-loved cast-iron skillet hissed softly on the stove while something buttery and unmistakably Southern baked away inside the oven, filling the house with the comforting perfume of roasted garlic, warm yeast, and assorted herbs. Somewhere on the back burner, seasoned green beans simmered low beneath a generous helping of bacon, onions, and enough butter to make any cardiologist weep.

The ceiling fan spun lazily and essentially useless overhead, doing nothing aside from pushing heavy, warm air from one end of the room to the other. The working oven and stove didn’t aid much, but Cici refused to acknowledge it. She floated effortlessly through the chaos she'd orchestrated herself. She went on opening new cabinet doors before she'd closed the last one. She skillfully balanced a wooden spoon between her front teeth, all the while simultaneously checking on rolls in the oven. Amidst it all, she kept directing Ollie toward whatever task she'd decided he was responsible for next.

"Now hold on. No no - that bowl goes over there."

Ollie looked down at the ceramic bowl already in his hands. "...Where's 'there'?"

Cici didn't bother looking up. "The other there.” 

He considered that for a moment. "Gee...that certainly narrows it down, don’t it?"

She sighed with theatrical disappointment. "I swear, Oliver Wilson, after forty years of marriage you'd think I'd have taught you how to read my mind by now."

He slid the bowl exactly where it'd been sitting before. "I've found askin' questions's a whole lot safer."

"It ain't."

"It feels safer."

"It ain't."

The corners of Ollie's mouth twitched in defiance before faltering and disappearing altogether. Time had taught him plenty, and he knew better than to argue with a woman wielding oven mitts. Especially his woman. Cici crossed the kitchen in three purposeful, intent strides before nudging him aside with her hip, muttering something under her breath about "men bein' decorative more than useful" as she reached for the bowl herself.

"I heard that," Ollie said.

"I wasn't whisperin'."

"No, ma'am." He nodded, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You sure weren’t.”

"And don't you go givin' me that grin." Cici shot back with an intentful point of her finger.

"What grin?"

"The one you're wearin'."

"I don't believe I'm wearin' one."

"You most certainly are."

He rubbed thoughtfully at his beard. "Might just be my face."

Cici stopped long enough to level him with a look. "Well, your face is bein' awfully smug."

"I'll see if I can do somethin' about it."

Cici carefully bobbed her head. "You do that."

Despite every word of complaint, the ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth before she turned back toward the stove. Outside, muffled through the open patio doors, Charlie's laughter drifted into the kitchen alongside the rhythmic drone of cicadas. Tony barked once somewhere near the side yard before Cooper triumphantly declared he'd finally gotten the tennis ball back, only to be met with immediate protests from Blake insisting he'd done most of the work. Faint, though prominent enough to carry into the kitchen, whining from Lilly about something. Anything.  All in all, the Wilson house hummed with the kind of comfortable noise that only existed when everyone was home.

The laughter outside seemed to dip for half a breath, just slightly. The cicadas droned on but somehow felt farther away now. Even the skillet's steady hiss softened beneath something unseen, like the house itself had drawn in a quiet, expectant breath. As if on cue, three sharp knocks echoed through the foyer. Each one carried itself down the hallway, landing in the kitchen where it hung briefly in the thick, warm air.

They weren’t frantic, nor hesitant. Simply...deliberate. The kitchen paused. Cici looked toward the front hallway. Ollie looked up from the platter he'd been carrying. Another knock followed shortly thereafter.

"My goodness," Cici muttered, glancing toward the old grandfather clock tucked against the dining room wall. "Who in heaven's name comes callin' this close to supper?"

Ollie adjusted the weight of the serving platter in his hands. "Could be one'a the neighbors."

"They know better." Cici tutted.

"Might be somebody lost." Ollie offered.

"They've got GPS."

"Might be a salesman."

"You got an answer for everything, don’t you?" She pulled the casserole dish from the oven, setting it carefully atop the stovetop before waving one floral oven mitt toward her husband. "Would you get the door?"

Ollie lifted both hands in surrender, the heavy platter balanced precariously between them. "I would, sweetheart..." He tipped his chin toward the stack of dishes she'd loaded into his arms over the last ten minutes. "...but you've got me workin' like a borrowed mule."

Cici looked him up and down. "You've got one platter."

"It's a mighty important platter."

"It weighs but a pound.” Cici’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Two, if you really wanna drum up theatrics.”

"Would say four if you count the potatoes."

She rolled her eyes so dramatically it bordered on athletic. "I swear..." she murmured, already wiping her hands on the dish towel draped over her shoulder. "If I want somethin' done around this house, I reckon I'll just have to keep doin' it myself."

With one last exaggerated sigh of defeat, Cici went to untie the back of her apron before setting aside on the counter. She adjusted the oven mitt she'd somehow forgotten was still on one hand, abandoning it atop the kitchen table on her way to the hallway. Her footsteps unhurried against the old hardwood floors. She embarked on her journey toward the foyer with the practiced gait of a woman who'd walked it tens of thousands of times before. The old pine floors answered each step with a familiar creak beneath her house shoes.

The hallway itself was bathed in the honeyed glow of late afternoon, sunlight spilling through the front windows and stretching long rectangles across the hardwood and onto the staircase. Family photographs lovingly adorned the walls in carefully curated clusters. A plethora of school portraits, beach vacations, Christmas mornings, wedding days passed her by, each one hung with the kind of deliberate care only Cici possessed. 

Her eyes found the crooked frame almost immediately. She frowned, slowing just enough to straighten it with the side of her hand before continuing on. Only for her attention to drift toward the faded runner stretched down the center of the hallway. That thing desperately needed a proper deep clean. She'd meant to borrow Tucker's carpet cleaner two weeks ago. Or had it been three? She made a mental note to call him tomorrow, assuming she remembered. She probably wouldn't.

Another note quietly joined the growing list in the back of her mind: wash the runner, rotate the hydrangeas on the front porch, replace the lightbulb in the upstairs hallway before somebody broke a neck. She reached the foyer just as another ribbon of sunlight caught the thin layer of pollen gathering along the windowsill. Mercy. Georgia could keep its pollen to itself.

The front door stood only an arm's length away now. Cici reached for the brass handle... then stopped. "Oh, honestly."

She drew her hand back to her side, suddenly startled by the unsettling possibility that she looked exactly like she'd spent the better part of the afternoon standing over a hot stove. Which is exactly what she had been doing.

Taking one small step backward, her body at an angle, she turned toward the antique mirror hanging above the narrow entryway table. The woman staring back at her looked perfectly respectable by every reasonable standard. Which, naturally, meant there was plenty of work to be done.

She tugged at the clip securing her hair just enough to coax a few stray strands back into place before ultimately deciding they looked better where they'd fallen originally. One manicured hand smoothed absentmindedly over a barely noticeable crease on the front of her skirt. The other brushed an invisible speck of flour from her shirt. She pinched lightly at her cheeks, satisfied to find they already carried enough color from the kitchen heat, then leaned in just a fraction.

"Well..." she murmured to her reflection, her grin as smug as ever. "You've certainly looked worse.”

Content enough with that assessment, Cici squared her shoulders, wrapped her fingers around the cool brass handle, and finally pulled the front door open. She was met with a gust of hot air, the hum of birds and cicadas, and a familiar face that looked daunted by lack of sleep. He did exactly what Ollie said he would do.