Three Boys and a Baby. Laura Altom Marie

Ella stood gaping at the ghostly form of a paddle wheeler. Though the decades hadn’t been kind, the iron behemoth was still elegant in its sea of stately oaks and pine. Listing slightly to the right, as if weary, like her.

      “Jackson…It’s amazing. Why…? How?”

      “You mean what’s it doing here?” he asked, flashing her a sad half grin. “A buddy of mine who’s a history buff said back before the river was diverted, it used to run through this little valley. There’s been talk of somehow salvaging her—turning her into a museum, but the amount of cash involved would be…” He whistled.

      “Still—to think this has been here all this time. There should at least be a proper path leading to it.”

      He shrugged. “Probably that’d only encourage teens coming out here to drink and do miscellaneous other dirty deeds.”

      “Yeah…You’re probably right.”

      For a few moments they quieted, absorbing the forest’s tranquility. A woodpecker hammered a nearby tree, breaking the stillness.

      “Why’d you bring me here?” Ella asked.

      He crammed his hands in his pockets, looking away.

      “When my wife—well, when she asked for a divorce…”

      “This place brought you solace? You thought it might do the same for me?”

      He glanced down, then up. His dark eyes were wet.

      He didn’t deny her assumption.

      Many times, when Julie and Jackson had struggled to save their marriage, Dillon had stayed with Ella, Todd and the twins. Ella’s had been the shoulder Dillon had cried upon, meaning she knew far more about the end of Jackson’s marriage than he would probably feel comfortable with.

      “Thanks,” he said quietly, taking a seat on a moss-covered fallen tree.

      “For what?” She approached the boat, staring up in wonder.

      “Being there. For Dillon.” He cleared his throat. “That kind of hostile environment. I’m sure you know it’s no place for a kid. He was just a little guy back then.”

      “He still is,” she said, stepping up beside the shell of a man Jackson had become. She had few memories of him from before his divorce. A couple of neighborhood picnics with Dillon riding on his shoulders and Julie trailing behind, chatting on her cell. Upon ending her call, she’d run laughing to catch up, taking Jackson’s hand, grinning up at him with what Ella had always assumed was love. They’d had their differences, but from the outside it had seemed like a sweet family.

      Not that Jackson and Dillon weren’t still a family, but not nearly as idyllic. As happy.

      When Jackson remained silent, she gave him a slight nudge. “He’s still just a little boy, Jackson.”

      “You think I don’t know that?” His voice was hoarse.

      “Hey,” she said, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder, “I didn’t mean that as a critique of your parenting skills. It was just an observation. At times—when Dillon thinks no one’s looking—he seems…I don’t know—crushingly lonely.”

      “Yeah, well, aren’t we all?” Pushing to his feet, Jackson said, “I’m heading back. Stay as long as you like, and if I hear anything, I’ll—”

      “I’m coming with you.” She was on her feet, as well.

      “You don’t have to.”

      “Of course, I do. For better or worse, we’re in this together and—”

      “Don’t…ever…say…that.” Though he didn’t turn to face her, he squared his shoulders as if readying for a fight.

      “Say what? We’re in this together?”

      He took off walking. His long-legged stride was tough to keep up with, but not impossible.

      “Damn you,” she said, snagging the sleeve of his navy polo.

      “What’s the matter with you? You act like a walking shell. You can’t just throw something like that out there without—”

      Jackson’s cell rang.

      Chapter Three

      “What’ve you got?” Jackson asked, pulse raging upon seeing Hank’s number on his cell’s Caller ID.

      “Great news. We’ve found ’em. All four tired and dirty, but safe and sound.”

      Relief made Jackson fall to his knees.

      “Jackson?” Ella demanded, kneeling beside him. “What is it? Are they hurt?”

      Tears he never indulged in flowed.

      He pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her hair. “They’re safe. Dillon, your boys—even this mystery baby. All safe.”

      He’d started to release her, but now she was crying, quivering, so he held on for dear life. Celebrating life. The lives of their sons. His own life which had miraculously been returned.

      “I can’t believe it,” she said, pulling away slightly, her happy, teary smile making her face glow. “I mean, I can. I knew they’d be safe—wanted to hope. But the fear, it took over.”

      He nodded. “I know. Wanna go get them? Hank took them to the station. No doubt loading them with candy bars and cookies.”

      “Hmm…” she teased, already rising, laughter crinkling the corners of her eyes as she held out her hand to help him. “With all those sweets in them, maybe we should leave them there till they come down from the sugar high?”

      

      OLIVER DIDN’T WANT TO CRY when he first saw his mom running with Dillon’s dad toward him and Dillon and Owen, but as hard as he tried being big, being in charge of two kids and a baby for all that time had taken a lot out of him.

      “Mommy!” Owen said, changing to his baby voice, like when he was scared of storms. He got to her first, throwing his arms around her waist. “I missed you so bad. I was starving and Oliver was mean and—”

      “I wasn’t mean. I even gave you the last bite of that granola bar and—”

      “Did not!” Owen complained. “And anyway, get back. I’m mad at you.”

      “You get back! And quit hogging Mom.” Oliver nudged his creepy twin out of the way, grabbing hold of her himself. Squeezing really hard, he closed his eyes and sighed. Man, she smelled nice. Like those good-smelling dryer-sheet thingies she used.

      “I missed you so much,” she said, hugging them both.

      “Yeah, but you missed me more, right?” Owen pushed in closer. Geez, he was a spoiled brat.

      “I’m oldest, so she missed me more, since she’s had me around longest.”

      “Hey,” Mom said, scrunching down so she was the same height as them. “I missed both of you more than I can ever say.” She was crying and wiped at her eyes. Oliver hated seeing her cry. He especially hated that him and Owen had been the cause. But they’d had to protect the baby. “That said, I’ve never been more furious with you both. What were you thinking? Running off like that?”

      Ella stood, hands on her hips. “You should be ashamed. How many times have I told you that if you have a problem, always to come to me?”

      “It was his idea!” both boys said at once, pointing to each other.

      “You are sooo lying!” Owen said. “Just trying to get me in trouble.”

      “You’re trying to get me in trouble,” Oliver said.

      “I don’t care which of you came up with the bright idea to run off,” Ella said. “I’m