I smiled at the trees we passed, at the tangles of wildflowers and woolly shrubs.
“You look beautiful today, you know,” Brock said.
I blushed, looking down at my hastily chosen jean skirt and gauzy white blouse. How was it that after over a year with this man he still had the ability to reduce me to a nervous schoolgirl?
“Where do you want to sit?” he asked. “Want to see if we can make it up all the way?”
A glance at the triplets revealed that they were as happy and enrapt in their surroundings as ever.
“Sure,” I said. “We’ll see how they handle the ascent. If they’re fine with it, then I am too.”
Brock came over and squeezed my hand.
“Good. It’s been too long since I saw the top. Think it’d be good for the kids to get to see it too.”
“You got it,” I said with a kiss on his cheek.
Incredibly, we made it up the whole mountain without any complaints from the three babies. It was as if they sensed today was the anniversary of our first meeting, that it was a special day.
Even when we reached the summit, however, we weren’t quite done with walking yet.
“Just a minute,” Brock said, pulling me along. “I want to show everyone my favorite spot.”
At this, Ian’s rosy little face in the front seat of the stroller darkened.
“Brock, are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s just five minutes more. Please, babe,” he said.
And so it was. I let him lead us past the nice-looking peak and farther off the path. We even climbed a hill until, finally, there it was.
“Wow,” I said.
It was all there really was to say, for right in front of me was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.
It was a veritable sea of daylilies, individual blossoms that joined into one slightly swaying body of orange—a soft orange, a warm one, something like the color of contentment, of happiness.
“What do you think?” Brock whispered in my ear, and I responded with a kiss.
I almost lost myself there, against his firm lips and smooth-shaven face with the bed of daylilies before us.
But then Noelle sneezed and laughed, and we all laughed, our big, beautiful family.
Brock set a bag I hadn’t noticed before down on the ground. It was black and big, and, recognizing it, I glanced at his face in surprise.
“Is that…?”
He nodded.
“Thought we could paint like the other times if that’s all right with you.”
I nodded, a smile coming onto my face. Brock shot me a sidelong look.
“Think the kids would like it too?”
I laughed. “Guess we’ll have to see.”
Brock took out his supplies, the paintbrushes and strange, brand-less tubes of paint I’d never seen before. Then he took off Noelle’s shirt, and his flick of orange across her belly provoked a giggle.
She slapped it with her hand and then lifted her paint-smeared finger to her mouth.
“Oh, no. No, honey—”
Brock put his hand on my shoulder. “These paints are special. They’re homemade, edible.”
We watched Noelle suck on her orange-tipped thumb, and I kissed Brock.
And so, as our little darlings squirmed, giggled, and made smacking noises with their lips, Brock painted them.
There was a different flower for each baby. Noelle was first, a bright, vibrant sunflower covering her torso. Ian was more difficult, turning every which way and giggling at the havoc he caused for Daddy’s artistic efforts. Finally, Brock decided the smudges on Ian were actually blue cotton candy and continued with that in mind. Last was Sasha, who sat demurely, model-like, while Brock etched out a whole series of forget-me-nots on her tummy. I was last, my belly getting a garden of tulips in every color of the rainbow.
Then it was Brock’s turn. I helped the children, guiding their paintbrush-clutching hands, so that, together, we smeared Brock’s bare chest into some sort of abstract art creation. Ian was intent on short quick dashes of red and blue and, once they smeared together, purple. Noelle was more about using the green-tipped brush to makes speckles of green than actually painting. Sasha was annoyed by the whole ordeal, and, after one prolific yellow line from Daddy’s chin to his belly button, she gave up altogether.
Then all of us, paint-covered and delighted by it, hugged and kissed and rolled around in paint-covered glory until Brock suggested a swim might be in order.
“Up here?” I asked with surprise, and he nodded.
There was a strange look in his eyes. He seemed even more delighted than he had been before.