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We played a few games with Grace—her favorite card game is snap, and she loves chutes and ladders, so we played that too. Then Reed found his Jenga set, so we played a few rounds of Jenga, making sure little Grace won a couple of times, of course. Seems we all needed to relax and decompress from the stresses and pressures of the previous twenty-four hours. None of us wanted to go outside, although Dean did go out and talk to the farmhands for a while, to make sure everything was fine. But even he came in after just forty minutes or so, and he seemed contented to let them get on with it on their own. All-in-all it was a pleasant day, kind of a vacation day, it turned out. But I think we all needed it.
Not untypically, it was Reed who brought up the topic that had been on all of our minds, but which until then, no one had wanted to mention.
"So," he said, casually—almost a little too casually, as if he was trying his best to seem like he wasn't trying at all. "What happens now?"
There was silence. We all knew what he meant. We'd all ended up in bed last night, all four of us, after Grace had gone to sleep. We'd all enjoyed it—immensely benefited from it even, arguably. And now… what?
The silence carried on. A minute, another minute. Then, thankfully, Grace breaks the awkwardness. "What happens about what, Uncle Reed?"
"He means about Hailey, and the three of us." This from Dean, ever the blunt speaker. "See, Grace, we got a problem."
"What problem, Uncle Dean?"
"The problem's this—we've all kinda fallen in love with her."
At this, Grace giggles, and Hailey turns a bright, lobster red.
"Oh that!" says Grace like it's old news. "I know that." We all look at her, a little perplexed.
"What do you mean, darling?" I ask my daughter. Perhaps she didn't understand.
"You boys are so silly. Even my teddy bear knows you love her. He told me so." She folds her arms. "Anyway, you keep sneaking around at night and coming out of each other's bedrooms in the mornings. You think I don't see stuff, but I do. Iamalmost five you know."
We all stare at each other in horror, our mouths open, dumbfounded.
All except Reed that is. He bursts out laughing. "Hahaha, outsmarted by a four-year-old for the second time in twenty-four hours. What would your old CO say to that, Sergeant Read?" He's guffawing loudly at this. The rest of us are as if frozen to the spot. My God… she knew all along?
"You… you knew?"
“Yes, Daddy, of course I knew. I am a girl. Girls know all about feelings and things."
"Yes but…" I begin. I falter, trying to find the right words. "But how did you know? Even I didn't know. Not for sure. Not until last night."
"Yes, Daddy," she's using her 'being patient with Daddy whilst he catches up with things' tone of voice now. "But that's because you're only a boy. Do you see?"
"Well… yes. Yes, I guess so." She's got me there, right enough.
"You see, Grace darling, the problem is that we all love her, but only one of us can marry her." This from Dean again.
Reed slurps more coffee. Bangs his cup down. "Darned tooting right that's the problem. There's three of us and one of her. If we could make two more of her it wouldn't be a problem. Or if these two dummies weren't such huge, crazy bastards, I could knock them on the head and bury them in the forest somewhere. ThenIcould marry her." He grins widely. "But seeing as they are such huge, crazy bastards?—"
"— and seeing as you always were the runt of the litter," interrupts Dean. "And Lennon and I have had to carry you through every mission we've ever been on with you, you can't. So shut your face and let the grown-ups talk, for once."
"Oh, go ahead, be my guest." Reed is all mock politeness. "Pray do tell me what your solution is, oh Masterful One. I'm all ears."
Silence once again. It's patently obvious that Dean has no solution. He stares fixedly ahead of him, the steam practically coming out of his ears.
"Why don't you share her?"
"Huh?"
Grace makes an exaggerated sighing noise, as if fed up with all our stupidity. "I said, why don't you share her? You share the farm, and the barns, and the house, and the truck, and the food, and the money, and, andme—you even shareme! So, why don't all three of you marry her? Like the prince and Cinderella, except with three princes. Then we can all live together and be happy."
Sometimes it takes a precocious almost-five-year-old to spot the obvious, it seems.
We stare at each other, the idea beginning to crystallize in our minds.
It can't work.