Page 86 of Learning at 40

“Aw, Dad, what’s the fun in that? Bryce can beat all you old guys,” Trevor whines.

“Who you calling old, little man?” Mason knuckles Trevor’s head.

“Alright. What do we say to Robert in case he isn’t here when we finish?”

A chorus of thank yous follows with Logan droning the loudest like he’s one of the younger set.

“You’re such a child,” Mason teases.

“Look who’s talking,” Logan retorts.

I simply shake my head.

“Friends?” Robert asks, tipping up a brow in a way I recognize and should hate about him.

“The best of friends. They’re family.”

My father purses his lips but nods once to accept what I’ve said. These men are my family. I’ve known them longer than him.

“Enjoy your trip.”

“Thanks again for the ice cream,” I say, slipping my card back into my wallet. “In case we don’t see you at the—“

“I’ll be here when you finish. I’ll be waiting for you.” He holds my eyes a moment before rapping his knuckles on the counter and walking to the holder of paddles and life preservers. A firm hand on my shoulder pinches it.

“You did good,” Mason whispers, knowing how difficult it was to decide to come here.

“Thanks, man.”

“Anything for you, my friend.” He pats my shoulder blade, maybe a little too hard, and we head out for the river adventure.

+ + +

“Benjawhina,” I deadpan while River is in a fit of laughter. “What kind of name is that?”

We had a good day canoeing with the guys, and even seeing Robert didn’t upset me as much as I thought it might. I have River to thank for that. Everything for River.

And now, she’s pregnant.

“I think it’s supposed to be a take on Wilhemina.” She chokes through her laughter as she tries to explain the baby's name. We know we’re having a girl. River said there were so few surprises in life, she didn’t want to know the baby’s gender early, but we found out by mistake. The amniocentesis matched the chromosomes accordingly, and the doctor blurted out the combination although we’d told her we wanted to wait.

“It’s a perfect XX.”

“Next time,” I told River, thinking I was accommodating. I was showing her I could compromise. She only glared at me, which I decided was rather cute on her, kind of like the pouty face she loves on me.

“Benjamina,” she tries again, but I’m done with this nonsense. We aren’t naming our child some construction of Ben’s name, even if I appreciate the honor River wants to bestow on our future child. River credits Ben as bringing us together even though she never met him. He was the neighbor she didn’t meet because the fence-lining arborvitae clearly said stay out. It wasn’t the bushes that made the statement, though; it was the ugly metal chain link.

“Absolutely not,” I grumble.

“The boys vote for Pirate as the name,” River says, completely straight-faced.

“Well, at least they aren’t asking if she can be named Kitty.” Thank you, Uncle Mason, for planting that seed as an option with all the sexual implications behind it.

“What about Lake?” River’s voice softens, and I do a double take, thinking she might be joking, but something in her tone tells me she’s not. She’s cautious, but serious.

“Do you mean Blake?” I correct.

“No, I mean Lake. Like a river flows into a lake.” My wild woman shows her nature-loving way, and I like the play on her name.