Epilogue
Hannah
Three and a half years later
“Mama! Mama!” my one-and-a-half-year-old toddler screeches with excitement as he wraps his arms around my leg. “Mama, I’s wanna pway dwummies!” Louie’s little chubby hands tug on the hem of my white sundress, and I smile down at him as I carefully remove the wooden spoon from the big pot of chili Lovie helped me make and back the two of us safely away from the stove.
I reach down to pull him into my arms, brushing my nose against his and giving him a big ol’ kiss to his cheek.
He giggles and rains sloppy kisses on my face.
“You want me to get you a pot and a spoon, Louie?” I ask when his adorable kiss assault comes to an end.
He nods excitedly, and I walk over to the cabinet to pull out a big metal pot from one of the drawers beside the fridge. A wooden spoon is next, out of one of the drawers by the sink, and once I have Louie’s “drum set” gathered, I walk him over to a spot beside the big dining table and get him settled on the floor.
He squeals in excitement and doesn’t waste any time banging the wooden spoon on the metal pot. It’s loud, but it doesn’t rise above thecurrent episode ofNCISthat’s playing on the television. I walk over to the living room, and Lovie smiles at me from her favorite chair, her hands busy knitting something.
And when I walk over to the couch, my mother’s eyes meet mine. “I think she’s sleeping, Ziva,” she whispers, nodding toward the baby girl sleeping on her chest.
“You want me to take Tali from you?” I ask, and she shakes her head gently.
“She’s cozy, Ziva. I’ll keep her here.”
I smile and reach out to rub a gentle hand over my six-month-old daughter’s dark hair before heading back into the kitchen.
Louie grins a big toothy smile in my direction as I pass him, his little hands still busy with his drum.
But when I’m back at the stove and taking a quick taste of the chili, I look out toward the scene in front of me and my heart doubles in size inside my chest.
Over three years ago, I was a down-and-out virgin trying to make ends meet and take care of my mother at the same time. I needed a job, and I found myself working a phone sex hotline, and my first caller was Detective Dominic Dunn from the Metro Nashville Police Department, wanting to ask me questions about a homicide.
And now I’m happily married to that handsome detective and we have two adorable kids together. A little boy named Louie, whom we named after Dom’s grandfather. A man who has been such a blessing in my and my mother’s lives. He’s built a close friendship with my mother, often taking her out on little day trips for lunch or a coffee.
Her Alzheimer’s makes it impossible for her to really remember him, but the way he makes her feel is undeniable, even to her mind.
And we named our baby girl for my mother. But not in the way most people would think. She’s named not Sherry but Tali, because in my mother’s nearly constant alternate reality ofNCIS, Tony and Ziva’s daughter is named Tali.
My phone vibrates on the counter, and I snag it to check the screen.
Dom:Baby, I’ll be home in about thirty minutes. Is my family there yet?
Me:Not yet. But food’s just about ready.
Dom:Are your grades posted yet?
Me:Nope. But I’ve certainly checked for them a hundred times. LOL.
Two years ago, after Dom and I got married, I went back to college, determined to finish my bachelor’s degree so I can have a career I’m passionate about. A career that revolves around nutrition, which is something I’ve seen do miraculous things for my mother firsthand.
I click out of our text conversation and refresh my MTSU app to see if any of my professors have posted grades yet.Still nothing.Ugh.
Dom:You’re gonna pass, Han. Don’t you worry.
Me:I hope so.
Dom:You Will. Love you. Be home shortly.
Me:Love you too. Drive safe.
