Page 32 of Small Town Hero
Epilogue
T he boxcar down by the river was always occupied these days.
When Gunnar had found the old train equipment, he had rushed to get it moved onto the property.
Sure, it meant that he and Birdie weren’t skinny-dipping down by the swimming hole anymore, so populated was it by their children. But it was worth it.
When he finished up with work for the day, it was his first stop.
“I come bearing green apples,” he shouted. The door to the boxcar opened, and his youngest son, Carson, poked his head out.
“You’re an adult and we can’t trust you,” Carson said.
“Now,” he said, “I know your mom is in there, and she’s also an adult.”
And that was when he saw Birdie poke her head through the door. Her freckles were darker than usual because she had spent the whole summer outdoors, gardening, playing with the children, riding Pegasus, who was getting on in years now.
“I am a pirate,” she said. “So I don’t count.”
“There were no pirates in The Boxcar Children .” He only knew that because he had heard her read those books to the kids.
“You could be a pirate too,” she said.
Their daughter, Hallie, also looked out, followed by their oldest son, Lachlan. “Dad?” Hallie said. “A pirate?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling at Birdie, who gave him a mischievous smile back. “I can be a pirate. I’m about to board the boxcar.”
The kids shrieked, and he ran toward them.
He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t laughing.
Oh, what a difference Birdie Parsons had made.