If Only…

By S. Faith, © 2014

Words: 34,644 in six chapters and an epilogue
Rating: T / PG-13
Summary, Disclaimer, Notes, Art credit: See Chapter 1.

Epilogue

End of April, 2014

Six years ago. Well, six years less three months.

This gift of life, given to him by his little girl, his princess.

"There you are, darling," he said as he fixed the last button.

He had been helping her into the red dress with a 'sticky-outy' skirt that she'd wanted to wear for her birthday, despite knowing she would probably have the thing either filthy or in tatters by the end of the day. She was no prim little thing; she liked to climb, question, and explore. She longed for the day where she could try archery, like 'that lady in the fairy tale'; he thought she might have meant Mulan, but he wasn't sure.

He would want her no other way.

"Thanks!" she said then ran off yelling, "Mummy! Do my hair please!" He smiled wistfully; she wanted the pigtails she was so recently fond of wearing, and his skills with hair-brushing and the elastics were apparently not up to snuff, even after all of these years.

He tidied up her room, picking her nightgown up off of the floor and throwing it into the laundry bin, then tossing the toys into the toy box; it was her birthday, after all, and not a day for scolding. This action prompted him to look around her room; the storybooks she loved, the drawings she'd done (often abstract or fantastical) and was so proud of, and even Saliva, who was really starting to show her age.

"How do I look, Daddy?"

Somehow he missed hearing her approach again, and he turned to see her enter the room. With the white tights, the black shoes, and the ponytails, she looked more like a young lady and less like a baby. He was sure that the recent growth spurt, the shedding of some of her puppy fat, contributed to this in his mind. Not that he was in any hurry for her to grow up, but he could just start to see the fuzzy edges of what Future Mabel might look like. He smiled, feeling a bit pensive and emotional. "You look wonderful. The princessiest princess ever to princess."

She smiled broadly, revealing the gap in her lower teeth, reminding him that she had lost her first tooth. It didn't embarrass her to have the gap there; in fact, she'd said she was quite proud to be a real 'big girl' now. "Thanks, Daddy," she said; it occurred to him quite suddenly that the little lisp she'd had since she first started speaking was virtually gone now.

"You know the party isn't for another four hours," he teased.

"I know," she said with a bright smile.

"Try not to get anything on it before the party actually starts."

"Okay," she said. "I'll be careful with de markers." With that, she tore off.

"No running in the house," he called after her with a grin; he noted she still occasionally had trouble with 'the'…

That task completed, he decided to go down to the kitchen, where Bridget was double- and triple-checking the party preparations. He offered as he entered, before she had the chance to speak, "It'll be fine."

"I feel like I've forgotten something major, though," she said.

"The array of barnyard animals?" he asked, which caused her to stop, turn around, look at him, then burst out laughing. He laughed too. These moments, these references to shared history, made his heart swell with joy.

"Billy still upstairs?" she asked, turning to him, seemingly finally satisfied that she had not missed any detail.

"Yes," Mark said. "To the best of my knowledge, still getting dressed. He didn't want any help."

"Speaking of getting dressed… I'd better go."

He stared at her; she already looked perfectly nice in casual trousers and a blouse, all made up, hair tamed into a barrette. He must have looked stupefied, for she continued to speak.

"If you're wearing that—" She pointed to his casual suit and tie. "—and Mabel's decked out in her fancy red dress, then I'll look like a tramp comparatively." She smiled, spying something behind him. "And of course, there's your son."

He turned and to his great surprise, Billy had also chosen a suit and tie like his dad, though the tie was tied rather poorly with the front bit far too short and a sloppy knot, just as one might expect from a seven-and-a-half year old.

"Well," Mark said with a smile. "Don't you look dapper."

Billy beamed a smile right back. "We kind of match, Dad."

It was true; their suits, their ties, were respectively of similar colours and cuts. He was pleased and proud that his intelligent, inquisitive, and kind son chose to emulate him on such a constant basis. "We certainly do."

"Though I kind of messed up the tie," Billy admitted.

"Not a bad go of it for your first solo try," Mark said, crouching down. "Here. Let's fix it."

He untied Billy's attempt, but before beginning again, happened to glance over to where Bridget stood; she wore a smile and looked a bit misty-eyed. He knew she was thinking the same: our boy is growing up.

Mark looked back to Billy, adjusting the sides of the tie to appropriate lengths.

"Best get upstairs," she said. "Or at least make sure Mabel's not into too much trouble."

"All right," he said. "Now, Billy, let me show you how it's done."

It was not a large party; Mabel's grandparents, some of Bridget's friends, and what felt to Mark like a thousand raucous, energetic, babbling five- and six-year-old children. Despite the burgeoning headache between his brows, he loved every moment of it. The house was echoing with life; not that it was ever lacking life, but the party that day particularly underscored the point.

The gaggle of extra children left after two hours, but the rest stayed for a bit for birthday dinner. Mabel had insisted on pizza. "Of course pizza," Mark had chuckled upon hearing her choice.

As they waited for the massive delivery to arrive, Mark sat on the sofa and had Billy to one side reading a book that Pam had brought for him, and Bridget on the other nursing her glass of wine, with an arm around each one of them. Mabel flitted between her grandmothers, grandfather, those she knew as 'aunts' and 'uncles', delighted in the attention. He looked around the family gathering—for indeed, all present were like family to him: Jude, Tom, Arkis, Talitha, Magda, Jeremy, Constance, and Una, in addition to blood-family Pam, Elaine, and Malcolm—and felt a contentment he hadn't in years.

"Watch me, Granny Pam, Granny Elaine." At this, Mabel began to do somersaults on the thick carpet; Mark was envious of all that energy, undoubtedly contributed to by the cake.

"Mabel," said Pam sternly, "ladies don't do tumbles in dresses. You'll never get a—"

"Mother, do not even say it," said Bridget, then grinned; Mark was shocked, but not really surprised, that Pam would think to start in about boyfriends at Mabel's tender age. "Besides, I did plenty of tumbles in dresses and I think I did just fine." With that she gave Mark a quick wink.

"She may do as many tumbles as she likes," Mark replied. "Tumbles were essential to our courtship, after all."

Before anything more could be said on the subject of tumbles, the front doorbell went off. Mabel and Billy alike launched themselves up from their respective places like excited birds, their glee unmatched as they begged their father to get up and "Get the pizza in! Come on, Dad, come on!"

They'd ordered seven pizzas total, and after paying, Mark returned with them to the family room, pretending to stagger under the weight of them all.

"That's a lot of pizza," said Talitha drolly.

"There are no calories in pizza served on a little girl's birthday," stated Bridget flatly. "It's just fact."

"I'm not little," said Mabel with a very familiar pout. "I'm a big girl."

"Of course you are, darling," said Mark in a placating tone.

They all ate to bursting with pizza to spare. Bridget tried to give some to the guests to take home but they all declined. "It's Mabel's pizza, after all," said Tom. "We shouldn't deny it to her."

"Gee, Tom, thanks," came Bridget's sarcasm.

"No calories, after all," said Talitha.

"Breakfast tomorrow," quipped Mark. The children cheered.

And then the computer started to make a weird noise. Billy and Mabel, who both knew instantly what the sound meant, ran over to wake it up, because of course he knew the password, could remember it better than his mum. "What's that infernal racket?" asked Malcolm.

"Skype call," said Mark, then amended, "video call on the computer, over the internet. I'd better go see who it is."

"Mummeee!" called Mabel with a beaming pink face. "It's Auntie Shazzie!"

From the distance of over 5,000 miles and from eight hours in the past came the smiling face of Shazzer, blotchy with the artefacts of the video transmission but looking the picture of health and happiness, surrounded by blue sky as she sat under the porch of her sprawling green back garden. "Mabel, my angel! Happy birthday!"

"Hi, Auntie Shazzie!" she said, bouncing in place where she knelt on the computer chair. "I'm six today!"

"I know you are, and I can hardly believe it!" she said. "Oh, you're such a big, big girl. I want to take you into my arms and squeeze you tight."

"When you gonna visit again?"

"I don't know, love," she said. "When are you going to come see me in sunny California?"

Mabel's mouth dropped open. "I don't know!" she cried. "I can't get a plane by myself!"

The collected group had gathered around, and at this exclamation of Mabel's they all chuckled. Bridget leaned in to smooth Mabel's hair down, glanced to the webcam. "Hi, Shazzer," said Bridget with a smile; he knew Bridget felt glad for her friend's happiness, but sad that she was so far away. "We'll see what we can do soon."

"Good," Shazzer said, "'cause I miss the lot of you like mad."

Billy crowded in, waving to the camera. "Hi Auntie Shaz," he said shyly.

"Oh my God," she said. "Look at you! You're looking so grown up. And you're just as handsome as your dad." She spied Mark behind him and winked. "Hi, Mark."

"Hello, Sharon."

"Daddy, her name's Aunt Shazzie," lectured Mabel, which sent the room into giggles again.

"Who's all there?" she said. "Did I interrupt dinner? Oh, I'll never get the hang of the time difference."

"We're all done with dinner," Mark said, then each person in attendance, even Pam and the Darcys, leaned in to say hello. At seeing Constance, Sharon covered her gawping mouth with a hand, declaring it was not possible for this gorgeous, auburn-haired young lady to be the girl who was "just three yesterday."

"We really do live in the future, I don't know," said Pam to Una, who nodded.

As hellos ended, goodbyes began, and the video call ended with tears and promises to talk again soon. The other guests said their farewells to their hosts and to each other, then left; Mark sorted the grandparents and Una into their guest beds (for Mark to shuttle home in the morning) and put away the leftovers while Bridget got the children ready for bed.

They reconvened in the hallway just outside of the children's rooms.

"Any trouble?" Mark asked.

"Not a bit," said Bridget. "Exhaustion from the day, both of them. And you?"

He chuckled, picturing his mother and father throwing a temper tantrum in the manner of Mabel. "None from any of the parental types." He sighed, taking her into his arms. "It was a very good day."

"It was," she said, leaning into him, against him. "Very good. And ohhh, I'm pretty exhausted, too."

He brushed his lips against her cheek, said quietly, "Not… too exhausted, I hope."

She laughed lightly. "Mmm, I think I might be persuaded to find my second wind."

Now, thought Mark as he undid the buttons one by one on her blouse, the day is perfect; everything is perfect.

The end.