Sunrise Point

her to Jill who gave her a tour of the enormous Victorian house that fronted her specialty farm. Tom helped Berry pick out a pumpkin while Nora was in the house and promised to help her carve a face in it. He tried to get her to take a break by lying still on the blanket with a book, even for a little while, but she was on the move. She would have been happy to stay on the ponies for hours and, because she so often played alone, the concept of taking turns was new to her.
    As long as his day had been, made a little longer by chasing and holding small children, he was relieved when the late October sun finally began to sink behind the trees. He helped Nora pack up and take the kids home.
    The day and possibly the cookies had worn on Berry. Tom had seen her fuss a little now and then, get stubborn or pouty, but the act she put on while being dragged to the car, and then on the drive home, was a shocker. Gone was the shy, mousy little girl. She screamed bloody murder and kicked her feet wildly. That had the effect of stirring Fay into a wail.
    “So this is what happens when there’s no nap?” Tom asked Nora.
    “And Fay didn’t have much of one—just a cat nap while Maxie held her. I’m going to have to get them right in the tub and into bed.”
    Tom helped get the girls inside for Nora. While she got them into the bath, he unloaded the trunk, put the chairs back in his truck and brought the stroller, blanket and supplies into the house. By that time Berry was in a towel, still sniffing from what had seemed an endless meltdown while Nora was drying Fay. “How can I help?” he asked.
    “If you could get a bottle for Fay, that would help.”
    While he did that, Nora got them into pajamas. Since he was just standing around looking kind of useless with a bottle in his hand, she passed him the baby and asked, “Do you mind? I need to see if I can get this girl settled down so she can sleep. She’s had way too much picnic.”
    “Course not,” he said, hanging his jacket over a kitchen chair. And he sat in the little living room with Fay while Nora fixed Berry a glass of milk, then disappeared into the bedroom with Berry, where there was a little more crying going on. Berry fought and cried, Nora murmured.
    So this was what life would be like with children, he thought. Every hand would be needed at some points. And what if there were more children? A man might get to feeling pretty neglected.
    Fay took about twenty minutes with the bottle, but her eyes were drifting closed. When her eyes were open and she looked up at him, she smiled sleepily. God, she was beautiful. He wasn’t that crazy about children in general, but this one and her crabby older sister, they were certainly growing on him.
    He kicked off his boots to get comfortable. When she had finally fallen asleep in his arms he noticed there was quiet from the bedroom. He assumed Nora would join him in the little living room soon, but there was no hurry. Holding the baby while she slept felt surprisingly good; it made him somehow feel bigger and stronger. It was an odd feeling, as if all his resources were being called on to keep them safe.
    Finally, too much time had passed without Nora joining him, so he quietly poked his head into the bedroom. Well, that explained it. Nora and Berry were cuddled on the mattress, asleep. He meant to put the baby down in the port-a-crib and gently wake Nora to say good-night.
    Instead he put the baby down and lay down on the other side of Berry, who was framed by Nora and Tom. He pulled the quilt from the bottom of the mattress over all three of them and thought, I’ll just lie here for a little while…
    The bed was too small, too low, the mattress too thin, and he’d never felt better in his life. He just couldn’t bring himself to move. The baby snuffled in her bed while Berry curled against him and softly snored; he could smell her sweet breath; Nora hummed in her sleep and sometimes talked, but it was in an indecipherable language. His sleep was not deep or constant—he was acutely aware of the children, of Nora.
    And then he heard birds just as he felt something in his hair. He opened his eyes to predawn light breaking through the slats in the blinds and Nora was running fingers through his hair.
    “I didn’t think you had enough hair for bedhead,” she teased in a whisper.
    “I think maybe you had too much picnic, too,” he whispered back. “You were going to quiet Berry and instead Berry put you to