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epilogue
. . .
Oliver
Twelve years later…
“What’s he doing?” Layla shrieks when she sees our youngest child outside in his bear form. “The bus is coming in four minutes!”
William’s school clothes are strewn across the yard while his grizzly cub is drinking out of the birdbath. I swear, this kid lives on another planet. His head is always in the clouds or off on some far imaginary adventure. He takes after his writer mother.
“I’ll go get him,” I say as I hurry to the back door.
“Are we going to be late again?” our oldest Jodie asks. She’s already ready at the front door with her backpack on and her books in her hand. “I don’t want to be late.”
“I want to be late,” our middle child Sebastian says. He’s on the couch playing video games on his tablet.
“Turn that off now!” Layla says when she sees him. “I told you five times already and it’s time to put your shoes on!”
He screeches like a banshee when she yanks it out of his hands and puts it on the top shelf.
I hurry outside and run after William’s bear who’s chasing after the sparrows. He pounces on one and misses by a mile. My bear is going to have to teach this cub some hunting moves on the weekend.
“Hey!” I shout, getting his attention. His cub sees me and sprints away in the opposite direction. I lunge forward and grab his back leg.
He makes a hilariously hopeless attempt to get away and I have to stifle my laugh.
“Turn back. Now.”
His bear looks at me with a defeated look.
“It’s time for school. Phase back.”
His little furry body starts to shake. I release his leg as he phases back into his human form.
“I don’t want to go to school,” William says as he looks at me. “I want to go wandering in the woods with you.”
“We can do that after school,” I tell him with a smile.
“But school is boring,” he says with a sigh. “We just sit there all day.”
“You want to be a writer like your mother someday, right?”
“Yeah.”
He has the same beautiful blue eyes as his mama. And out of all our kids, he’s the one who reminds me the most of her. He has that same curious adventurous spirit. I adore him.
“Well, you’re going to have to sit at a desk all day to write,” I tell him. “Might as well start practicing now. And you’re going to need stuff to write about. You need to learn all about history and people and the way things work. You’ll learn all that at school.”
He drops his eyes and sighs. “I guess.”
“Dad!” Jodie shouts. “The bus is coming!”
I hear the roaring as soon as she says it.
“Let’s go!” I say, bursting into action. I grab his clothes and yank them on my son’s body as he tries to squirm away.
I toss him over my shoulder and sprint around the house to the road as I struggle to put his shoes on. That loud diesel engine gets louder and closer. I sprint harder.
