Author's Note: I've been wanting to do a little more with Darry lately, so here he is – old man Darry Curtis. Frankly, I'm not quite sure where this came from, and I'm still working on his first-person voice, but this is just another piece of the puzzle.

I'm still not 100% sure on the timeline of these later pieces, but I figure this story happens sometime in the past (or maybe the next? Who knows) two/three years, and Darry and his wife are in their early/mid-seventies. But they want you to know they look and feel great, thanks for asking. They're super hip and with-it.

Happy reading :)

It's a lot more quiet around the house these days.

Used to be, back in the day, that we'd never have any quiet. I would never get any quiet. Even when Mom and Dad were still around, I still had two dumbass kid brothers flitting around me at all times, and for as much as I love them – even as old men – even Ponyboy was a noisemaker, and he was supposed to be the quiet one. Soda was the real trouble, I suppose, and pair him with Steve and suddenly the TV would be on at the same time as the radio, and then Dallas would show up and start scrappin', and Johnny would be pressed up against the wall watching all of it go down, and Two-Bit…God only knew what Two-Bit would add to the mess on any given day. The point is, the house would be full. I never thought I would miss that, but here I am, in a completely different house, missing those days like crazy.

I think it has something to do with the visitor we have.

My wife and I raised three kids in this house, same way Mom and Dad raised three boys in theirs. It's different but the same. The house my kids grew up in was bigger and nicer than the one I grew up in, but not quite as nice as the one my wife grew up in with her brother over in Louisiana. I lost my parents when I was twenty, but Jackie and I had stuck around for ours, through all, all, all of it. Because that's what you're supposed to do. There was a brief time where I figured, after the semi-hell that was raising my hellion brothers, the state breathing down my neck, that I would never want kids of my own. I figured that in a way, I already had them. But then I met Jackie, and that all changed pretty fast. Fell off a ladder at work and came away with a concussion and her phone number, after she'd been my attending nurse. Who knew a guy with a head injury could be so slick?

"I'm tryin' to get transferred over to maternity. I love kids," she told me on our first date. It had been a while for me, so for the majority of the night, I was concerned with whether or not she was simply enjoying herself.

"Yeah?" I asked, and that probably should have been a warning sign, but I didn't take it as one. Jackie seemed the mothering type already. "Then what the hell're you doin' in the ER?"

A shrug and a bright smile. Jackie's got the best smile. I think I married her for it. Who knew I'd ever love a woman so much for her smile? "Just where they need me right now. But believe me, I'm workin' to bust outta there."

And determined, too. Jackie Fontenot was a woman who knew what she wanted, and I admired that about her. She's never afraid to tell you, either. You always know where she's coming from, and from day one, I knew she wanted a family, and from day one, I knew I wanted her. In the end, it all worked out, I think, because the three kids we ended up with were, in my eyes, about as good as they get.

And then there's Charlotte.

xXx

I love my brothers. I don't say it out loud enough, none of us ever do or did, not even Ponyboy, but it's true and it's always been true. Because they're always gonna be my kid brothers, and no matter how much time passes, that can't change. It has been one of my only constants; I've always been Sodapop and Ponyboy's big brother, and at the times in my life when it felt like everything was slipping away from me, like everything had been turned upside-down and sideways, I could hold onto that. When our parents died, they were still there. When Jackie told me, a mere six months after we'd started going out, that she was pregnant, they gently ribbed me for it and then told me they knew from experience that I'd be a good dad, which I didn't agree with at the time, but it was nice to hear. When I sold our parents' home, the one they had raised us in, the one they had left behind, they told me it was the right thing to do. I never realized until I was much older how much I had leaned on the two of them over the years, when I thought it was the other way around. Truth be told, it probably went both ways.

You get to a certain age, though, and you start holding on to whoever you've got left for as long as you can. You hold on tight, and you fight to keep them. I'm not kidding when I say I would have taken on God Himself if given the opportunity to save my parents, or Dallas, or Johnny. Even all these years later. I've had to learn to move on instead.

You don't just stop living cuz you lose somebody. That's what I'd told Ponyboy after Johnny and Dallas died. Johnny had been his best friend; his youngest son is named after him. The hurt never completely goes away when you lose somebody like that, and especially not so soon after you lose someone as important as your parents in the same year.

I don't like to think about what will happen to Steve or Soda when one of them goes, but I do anyway. A guy like that – one you've known your whole life – you're not just okay after losing that person.

Ask me about it. I'd know.

xXx

Charlotte's four years old and damned precocious. She reminds me of Ponyboy at that age; quiet, but with a million questions. As her parents' only child, she's pretty damned spoiled, and I'm sure it don't help that her grandparents are the same, but that ain't gonna stop me. I'm a little down about our week with her being almost up. I ask her what day of the week it is.

"Friday," she says quietly, much too invested in investigating the marshmallows in her cereal. She gets one onto her spoon and proudly holds it out to me to inspect with her. "That's a rainbow."

"It sure is." Jackie had caved almost immediately and picked up the box of Lucky Charms when they had gone to the grocery store on Sunday. I suppose eating for marshmallows is about equal to, if not better than, eating chocolate cake for breakfast. She can pour herself a bowl and everything, as long as someone's there to help her lift the milk jug.

I watch her a little more. I've been trying to figure out who I think she resembles most. Her hair's kinda golden blonde, which reminds me of Mom and Sodapop, but she's got her mother and grandmother's eyes, big and beautiful bright green. I'm curious to see which side she favors more as time goes on, her mom's or her dad's. It is strange, though, to look at these children and grandchildren and see people from my past – Mom, Dad, Sodapop at eight, Ponyboy at sixteen, or their parents when they were the same age. Charlotte's our youngest grandchild, and frankly? Probably my favorite. But don't tell anybody. I've got a bunch of other grandkids who would probably be none too happy to hear that. But everyone loves the baby best.

"Darrel, let me get that for you."

Jackie swoops into the dining room and picks up my plate before I can say another word, and I'm amazed at her knack for knowing the precise moment a meal is over. She lets Charlotte go for another few minutes, but I know she's itching to tell her to get a move on so the day can get started. The girl's going through a very meticulous phase, is all. Our middle one, Martha, did the same. Everything is interesting, no matter how big or how small. Every marshmallow deserves thorough consideration.

My wife sits down next to our granddaughter and watches her for a moment. Charlotte doesn't even notice her. "What are you two gettin' up to today?" Jackie asks. She frowns a bit, and I realize it's because Charlotte's not even dressed yet. For a moment I forget whether or not I'm dressed, but then I feel the distinct tightness of my belt, and am reassured.

I grab the spoon from Charlotte's kung-fu grip and pull the bowl away from her. She wasn't even eating it anymore, just examining. "Gotta stop by the office first, drop off those plans for that building they're puttin' up downtown, show off this little lady a bit," I grin, and Charlotte smiles back because we're talking about her, and little kids love that. When Soda was a kid, he always knew when somebody was talking about him. You'd say his name two rooms over, and he'd yell back asking what we were saying about him. In fact, he's still like that now. "Then maybe head over to Soda's, see the horses. You wanna see the horses, babygirl?"

"Yes!" Charlotte says enthusiastically, and finally Jackie smiles.

"Oh, I wish I could go with y'all," she laments, but she's got some Junior League thing she's already committed herself to. I, for one, would much rather spend my day with the horses. "Well, let's get you dressed, sug'." She looks over at me with that expression on her face that says she's been spending money, and she's very happy about it. "We got her all sorts of outfits when Joanie and I took her out for our girls' day. You'll love 'em."

I mean, I didn't have any other choice but to love 'em. And considering our youngest, Joan, didn't have any daughters of her own yet, I could only imagine what sort of pink monstrosity I was about to be met with, but the two of them looked so pleased with themselves that I decided it best to not say anything.

xXx

I was a jackass in high school. Looking back, I just know that I was the absolute worst. You wouldn't know it looking at it – I mean, it's not like I'm not proud of the Boy of the Year, star quarterback part of it all – but I lived with the shame of where I was from for so long and let it come out in the nastiest of ways. They always say that your real friends are the ones who like you for who you are and not who you pretend to be, who stick with you no matter what, and I knew that even then – I just liked to pretend I didn't. I only became friends with guys like Paul Holden in high school. But I wanted to walk the walk and talk the talk, so I split myself in two. That wasn't fair to anybody, least of all me. Take it from an old man: you're not doing anybody any favors by pretending to be somebody you're not for any measure of time. These days, with me, what you see is what you get, and I wished I'd stuck to that philosophy a lot sooner.

Most of my buddies – the real ones – held it against me. I know my brothers did. They did it in their quiet way most of the time. Johnny was too nice and too timid to ever tell me if he thought I was a phony or not, but Dallas wasn't shy about it, and Steve swooped in with the ever-charming all brawn, no brains comment that I still quietly, shamefully hold against him to this day. The one year we were in school together, Soda would sometimes glare at me and my buddies as he stood off to the side with our friends, and he'd say it real pointed like that – "Our friends, Darry. You remember them, don't'cha?"

Two-Bit had always been nice about it, but looking back on it, he was always nice about everything, even when he was being mean. You'd never hear someone tell you to fuck off in such a polite way. That's not to say he couldn't me a real scary son of a bitch sometimes, but never to any of us. "Who am I to tell you who to be friends with?" He asked me once. "I'm not over here boo-hooing about you forgettin' me. Nobody forgets Two-Bit Mathews anyways," he said, and then he winked.

Who winks anymore? Nobody. Wish they would.

xXx

It was a great day for a drive. That's something people don't do anymore – go for drives. Dad used to round everybody up and take us driving around, out to the country, just as something to do as a family. People are too busy nowadays. I've tried to un-busy my life as much as possible after all the work I did when it was me and my brothers, then me and Jackie and the kids. I was inching towards retirement, slowly getting ready things ready to fully pass operations of the construction business over to my son, Lee, and then I could spend all my time shootin' the shit and watching football and King of the Hill. As God intended.

I looked up in the rearview mirror. Charlotte was right where I left her, in her car seat, because of course she was. The windows were rolled down and we were listening to Johnny Cash – as God intended. Maybe after we visited Soda I could just take Charlotte for a drive, maybe pick up something fast and junky for dinner. Jackie will roll her eyes, but at least she won't have to cook. She hates cooking after going to these Junior League meetings – they piss her off. And pizza sounds good to me.

Charlotte was already unbuckling herself when we pulled up into the parking lot, and part of me was okay with that because I always end up pinching myself on those damn things, but I still reminded her that she needed to wait until the car had completely stopped. She was contrite for a few moments, but it was all forgotten when she shimmied out in her ruffly purple romper and grabbed for my hand. Jackie had pulled her hair up into little pigtails, and looking down at her as we walked into the building, she reminded me of both Jackie and Sadie Mathews. Again, though: only time would tell if she was more Curtis or Mathews, even if she did have my name.

"When's Lee gettin' back?"

The guy I'd put in charge of the site for this project was sitting in the office with me, the two of us watching Charlotte scribble away on some legal pads. "Monday," I told him. "He'll take over the oversight then and I'll stay outta y'all's hair."

He tilted his head. "She looks like you, I think."

I watched Charlotte a bit more closely. Her tongue was just peeking out. Guess she was deep in concentration. It was sorta sweet. I tried to see it, but it was hard. How can you see yourself in someone else? I know I looked like Dad, but if he had lived to be as old as I am, would people still be saying that? Or maybe we would have changed too much. "Not sure I see it."

"It's the face structure, I think. She's a real cutie either way, though. Definitely got a bit of her old man in her, as well. Maybe that's what I'm seein'."

Probably. "What'cha drawin', babygirl?"

Charlotte carefully set down the marker and hopped off her chair, then presented the two of us with the picture she had been drawing. "It's my house," she said, and she began pointing to things as she took us through the picture. "There's where my room is. And that's Mommy and Daddy holding hands. And then Paul, Molly, Michael, Danny, Andrew, and Kristen over here." She pointed at her long line of half-siblings. "And then there's the sun. He's smiling."

So he was. "It's beautiful. We should take it home and frame it. I'd love to put it in my office." I was so not used to talking like this. I'd never been able to talk to little girls the same way I'd talked to little boys, and it always made me sound like an idiot. I mean, I really did want to frame her picture and put it in my office, but sometimes what I say doesn't sound like me, or the me I used to be. Back in the day, if Pony had brought me one of his drawings asking me to praise it, I probably would have told him it looked like ass just to get a rise out of him; I wouldn't have been clamoring to frame it, no matter how good it actually was.

"Really?" Charlotte bounced on her heels, then held the picture in front of herself and considered it, like she was trying to decide if it was good enough to be framed. "It should be a shiny frame," she finally decided. "It's good enough for a shiny frame."

The wide smile she gave me reminded me instantly of her other grandfather.

xXx

"Well, well – lookit what the tide brought in!"

Soda was already sitting on his front steps when we pulled up, and Charlotte ran up to him in a dead sprint, and Soda grabbed her up and swung her around, making her squeal. Charlotte loved seeing the horses – what kid with an ounce of Okie in their blood didn't? But she probably loved Sodapop more – again, who didn't? I hated to admit it to myself, but the dude was a silver fox. I mean, I didn't think any of us looks all that bad, but Sodapop definitely came out on top. Jackie should take him to one of her Junior League meetings – he'd probably clean up.

"Howdy, Darry," Soda greeted in the midst of Charlotte's chatter. Soda could also get just about anybody talking, his quiet li'l' great-niece included. "How's it hangin'?"

"Eh, little low and to the left."

He cracked a grin. "Okay, Two-Bit." He turned back to Charlotte. "I think I can guess why you're here, little lady."

"Why?" She asked.

"You ready to ride some horses?"

More squealing. We took her out to the stables and the two of us got saddled up, and who knows how responsible it was to let her ride with Soda, but she had a helmet on and we were just moseying through the field. Soda knows what he's doing, and even for as slow as we were going, Charlotte was having the time of her life. What was the harm?

"You good, Char?" I ask, and she bobs her head up and down, and the helmet slides for a bit. Soda readjusts it, and she goes back to taking in her surroundings, Soda's arm holding her tight. "Heard from Pony lately?"

"He called the other night. Said we should get cellphones so he can text us. Says it's easier to keep in touch that way." I just shake my head; that's Pony for you. He and Roz are always on top of the latest thing. Soda rolls his eyes, but he's smiling, never one to get exasperated by our baby brother. "Says he's working on another book."

"What's that? Three now? Twenty-five?"

"Somethin' like that," Soda shakes his head. "God, if only the folks could see us now," he laughs. "Seems we're all doin' alright for ourselves. We doin' okay for ourselves, Char?"

"Yeah," she says distractedly. No need for any further discussion on that subject, then.

"I've been thinkin' she looks a bit like Mom lately," I say, following down a more nostalgic path, which I don't usually like to do, but it's been hard avoiding it lately. It's like I've come to a crossroads, and memory lane is the only one that ain't under construction. "Her hair's the same color as yours and Mom's was, kinda wheat-gold."

Soda looks down at her even though he can't see her hair through the helmet. He shrugs. "Yeah, I can see that. But not really so much in the face. Looks like a mix of her grandmothers to me. When she smiles, though, all I can see is Two-Bit."

I don't say anything for a minute. "Yeah, I was thinkin' that earlier, too."

I can feel Soda's eyes on me, trying to get me to say more without having to poke at me, but he should know by now that doesn't work. It never has. I'm not saying it's one of my best features, but if you want to get me to talk, you're gonna have to poke the bear, and I'm self-aware enough to know that's how things are. Eventually, Soda sighs and says, "You know, it helps to talk. He was your best friend, man. You've gotta have somethin' to say about him. Hell – the rest of us talk about 'im all the time. Even Bee's used to it by now."

I purse my lips. Two-Bit's been gone about five years now, and I'm still not used to it. For years, it was the five of us – me, Soda, Pony, Steve, and Two-Bit. There was a time a long, long time ago that it felt that was all any of us had, and we were hanging on to each other for dear life. That changed, of course, and our orbits expanded, but we always came back to each other, time and again, year after year – hell, day after day. Johnny and Dallas went on the same day, and then it was the five of us up until five years ago, and Two-Bit Mathews had the nerve to see himself out, leaving the rest of us here. Yeah – it had been five years, and life had gone on. Charlotte was the proof. That was the thing, though: Charlotte Curtis was Two-Bit's granddaughter, too, and he didn't even know it. The fucker.

"What's there to talk about?" I ask, trying to play it off. "He was here, and now he ain't. We all miss 'im. Nothin' else to say."

But that ain't true. Of course it ain't true. You know a guy so long, since you were in Sunday school together and your moms made baked goods for church potlucks; since you played in little league together, the pitcher to his catcher; since you fought in rumbles with those pricks from the other side of town; since you were at each other's weddings and saw each other's kids grow up; since you spent all those summers together with those families…yeah. You know a guy so long, he becomes like one of your brothers. So, of course it's kinda weird that we share a granddaughter and he ain't even here to get to know her. He doesn't know that she's smart like Ponyboy, got his wife's eyes, hair like my mother's. Doesn't know she's got his smile. And he never will, unless there's some sort of afterlife, but even at my age, I'm not so sure there is.

God, now I sound all maudlin.

"I'll be up in New York next week," Soda says, kinda-sorta changing subjects. The only reasons he goes up to New York is to sell horses and see Bridget Mathews. They're not a thing, but they're both lonely in ways the rest of us aren't: she's a widow, and Soda hasn't been married since the seventies. He'll be there for a little while, I figure. "She'll be glad to see this one," he grins softly, rubbing Charlotte's back. Like I said – the baby's always the favorite. "What was it you said, Darry? 'You don't just stop living cuz ya lose somebody'? Was that it?"

I shook my head. "I haven't stopped livin'," I scoffed. "Don't go throwin' that back in my face, Sodapop."

Soda heaves a big sigh. "Man, I know, I know. I just…either talk about whatever it is you're thinkin' about, or stop wallowin'. Five years, and you can barely talk about it. I don't get it, man. And I know you're not like me and Pony, you feel things different, and we get that. I just…" He sighs. "I wish you would talk about it. Like you said, I miss him, too. And one day, this little girl's gonna want to know about him. You're his best friend. That don't change now that he's gone, Darry."

Right. Same way we were still gonna be Darrel and Margaret's sons, and I was always gonna be Sodapop and Ponyboy's big brother, and Sodapop was gonna be Steve Randle's best buddy, and Ponyboy was gonna be Johnny Cade's, and Dallas Winston was gonna be Tim Shepard's. I was always gonna be Jackie Fontenot's husband, and Lee, Martha, and Joan were always gonna be our kids. I haven't been able to shake Keith Mathews since I was seven and he was five-and-a-half, and that's true even now that he's dead. The living proof is right next to me.

"Look!"

Charlotte points a finger, and Soda and I look to see a flock of birds rushing out of the trees in a flurry of flapping wings. Soda looks over at me with one of his Soda looks, like he wants to say that's some sort of sign, but all I say is, "What're ya seein', baby?"

"Birds," Charlotte says. She's a woman of few words. "Where are they going?"

"Don't know," Soda drawls. "Someplace nice, I hope."

"I hope so, too."

Charlotte leans back against him, and we watch the birds fly away until we can't see them anymore.

xXx

"The old grey donkey, Eeyore stood by himself in a thistly corner of the Forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, 'Why?' and sometimes he thought, 'Wherefore?' and sometimes he thought, 'Inasmuch as which?' and sometimes he didn't quite know what he was thinking about..."

Charlotte's had her bath, and now she's sitting between me and Jackie in our bed as Jackie reads Winnie the Pooh to her, and I'm starting to get the notion that I might be Eeyore. I'm enough of a downer, that's for sure. Ask anybody. But I framed my granddaughter's picture and put it in a shiny gold frame in my office, and I let her and my wife talk me into letting her sleep in here with us tonight because she's going home tonight and Jackie needs her grandbaby close. Now, Charlotte's enraptured as Jackie reads – she's always been better at reading aloud, always willing to do all the voices for all the different characters, and I think to myself that it's good that the hospital had moved her to maternity all those years ago because she really had a knack for it.

Our granddaughter has a strict eight-three-zero bedtime, so Jackie dogears the book and we tell Charlotte that her parents will be here to pick her up tomorrow, and that we love her and we'll see her in the morning, and then we sneak out of the bedroom and head downstairs, neither of us ready for bed just yet. Charlotte sleeps like the dead – she won't notice us coming back in.

"What time are they supposed to be here tomorrow?" Jackie asks as she settles down next to me on the couch, a tumbler in each hand. She passes one over to me and we settle in to watch a bunch of Modern Family repeats while we wait for one of the late shows, probably Conan. What? I may be Eeyore, but I'm not totally out of it. I've got a sense of humor, thanks so much. You think Two-Bit Mathews would've been my buddy, and vice-versa, if I didn't?

"Their plane gets in around ten, I think, so probably around lunch."

Jackie nods and settles in against my side to watch the TV. I know she's upset that our week is up tomorrow, but we'll see Charlotte again soon enough. Bee's gonna see her for a week, and then they'll all be back down here in Tulsa before the start of the schoolyear. Besides – we've got other grandchildren, right? But I feel what Jackie's feeling, too, but while the show seems to be taking her mind off it, I can't stop thinking. Not about what Sodapop said earlier, or about how I can't seem to talk about my buddy's death even five years later, or about how I'll miss Charlotte when she's not here. I'll even miss how she meticulously eats cereal. You miss all sorts of funny things about the people you love.

"D'you think I should talk about Two-Bit more?" I ask during one of the commercials, even though I'm pretty sure this is a conversation that will last longer than a commercial break. Jackie looks over at me and considers me carefully.

"I don't know," she answers slowly. "Do you think you should?"

"Soda thinks I should," I say. "Maybe he's right. It's been five years."

"It doesn't matter how long it's been. If you're not ready, you're not ready."

I sigh. "It ain't about being ready. I mean…I feel like I'm able to live my life and all that, and it ain't like it hurt like it did, but I dunno, I feel…guilty." There. I said it. "Know what I mean?"

Jackie stares at me for a beat. "No. Not really."

"I mean, there's this great kid asleep upstairs that he don't even know about. It feels like I'm hoggin' her. It wasn't s'posed to be like this. Those two crazy kids finally pull their heads outta their asses and get together, and he don't even know about that. I've known that man since we were in short pants, and after all we went through, he don't even get to see the good that came of all of it."

Jackie's lips twitch and she hums in understanding. "This isn't just about Charlotte, then."

No. No, it wasn't.

xXx

The next day at lunch, Charlotte was sitting at the kitchen table, examining every Goldfish cracker and apple slice and PB&J triangle on her plate before eating it when her parents pulled up outside. Jackie said from out front, "Charlotte! Look who's here!" And Charlotte popped up excitedly out of her seat, lunch forgotten, and ran for the front door. I was right on her tail, and it seemed that Jackie couldn't get the front door open fast enough for her, and then she was bolting down the front walk.

Lee got out of the car first, and looking at him, I think he looks like my old man, so I guess that means he might look like me. He's got sunglasses on and looks tan, and I think to myself that it's ridiculous to go down to Florida to get some sun when I've never had a problem getting any here in Oklahoma. But it was his anniversary, not mine. Charlotte yells for him, and he turns his head towards the sound and spreads open his arms.

"Daddy!"

"Charlotte!"

He grabs her up and swings her around, just like Sodapop did yesterday. Charlotte's talking a mile a minute about horses and drawing and Winnie-the-Pooh and going shopping as he comes up the walk with her, and a few seconds later, Mary appears from the other side of the car, looking happier and more relaxed than I've seen her in a long time. They both do, actually, and I'm happy for it, and I can tell Jackie is noticing the same thing and is glad for it, too. Two divorces and a kid later, and they finally get to be together. Took 'em long enough.

"How was the Sunshine State?" Jackie asks, and Mary smiles at the both of us as she runs her fingers along Charlotte's spine.

"Sunny," she answers smartly. "It was wonderful," she says more genuinely, and she hugs the both of us. She still sorta smells like sunblock. "How was everything here?"

"Perfect," I shrug.

Lee raises an eyebrow. "Really? So she didn't do that thing when she eats?"

"We're still workin' on lunch," Jackie answers bluntly. "C'mon, why don't you tell us about your trip while she finishes."

Charlotte sits in Lee's lap while she finishes lunch and we fill each other in. Lee sometimes looks down at the top of his daughter's head with a funny look on his face, but he never tells her to hurry up, and I'm secretly glad for it. I like having the three of them here. As soon as she's done, they'll head over to Lee's ex-wife's to pick up the rest of kids, and next week Mary will take her to New York to see Bridget and pick up her kids from her ex. Like I said – everyone's so busy these days. When they get back from New York, maybe Jackie and I will drive over and convince them to go on a Sunday drive with us. Go back and see the horses. Mary loves to ride.

Eventually, they have to go. As Lee is loading up Charlotte's bags and strapping her into the car seat we had to move over from my car, I chat with Mary a bit. She looks like her mother, and Lee has been in love with her since he was fifteen years old. Some good things take time to come to us. It's an annoying flaw in the system. The road can never be an easy one. But now Lee and Mary have some big, Brady Bunch-esque family, and they're...happy. Just really, really happy.

"I was telling Soda she's got hair like our mom's. It's the same color as theirs was. And your eyes."

She laughs. "Oh, yeah – she's got those doe-eyes Mom has, that's for sure. I always think she looks like Aunt Sadie."

"She does," I agree. "But her smile is all yer daddy's."

Mary bites her lip, slowly nodding. "Yeah," she says softly. "It is. He would've loved her, don't you think?"

"Oh, for sure," I assure her. And it's in that moment that for the first time in five years, it's kinda easy to talk about him. If there's anybody I should be able to talk to about Two-Bit Mathews, it's his oldest daughter. Out of all the people still alive that knew him, I was the one who knew him the longest. I was his best friend, after all. "Woulda eaten her up. Probably woulda gotten her into baseball and Bob Dylan."

"Oh, god," Mary rolls her eyes playfully. "Yeah, I can see that. And cowboy boots with little spurs." She shakes her head. "I'm glad she has you, Darry. Dad loved you guys, and he would've loved that his best friend is loving her so well. Ya know?" I did know. That dumbass had stood by my side through everything. I owed him at least that much, probably more. "I miss him."

"We're always gonna miss 'im," I tell her. "That's how we know people were important to us."

Mary smiles, and it reaches her eyes, but in a melancholy way. I hug her, maybe squeeze a little harder than usual. "Thanks, Uncle Darry."

"Ain't no thing, kiddo."

I round the car where Lee is saying goodbye to his mother like he won't be only twenty minutes away from us. Jackie's a sap, really. Mary gives me one last smile over her shoulder before she climbs into the passenger seat and smartly says goodbye to my wife through the window. I turn my attention to the little girl in the car seat. She's got a sippy cup full of water that she's working on, but she abruptly yanks it out of her mouth when she sees me.

"I have to go home now, Grampa," she says solemnly, and I nod.

"I know. I'll see you again soon, though. When you get back from seeing Grandma Bee."

"Is that soon?"

"It's soon," Lee answers for me. He initiates a hug between us, and I'm a little taken aback because he's like me, not a hugger, but I'll take what I can get these days. Jackie makes grabby hands at her grandbaby and looks like she's about to cry.

"I'll miss you so much, baby," she says, kissing her all over her face, and I roll my eyes.

"Jackie," I drawl warningly, and she gets the message and steps back.

"Can we go see the horses again when I get back?" Charlotte asks, and that's clear that's been the highlight of this visit. Lee's looking at me through the rearview mirror, and I catch his eye and wink at him.

"'Course, baby." I touch my forehead to hers for a moment. "Long as you promise to tell me all about going on the airplane."

"I promise," she grins, and this time, it's a comfort.

AN: I wrote this all in a day when I probably should have been doing homework, so we'll see how this goes over.

Lee Curtis and Mary Mathews told their story in The World's Most Ordinary Wedding, and they've popped up in other stories as well, and I felt it was finally time to give them their happy ending. And yes, Two-Bit dies in Viva Voce, so I guess if you're reading this before that – sorry for the spoiler. But like Darry learned, life has to go on.

Stay safe, stay healthy, stay INSIDE, and thanks for reading!