Epilogue

Albert and Izzy satside by side on the wooden porch, the creaking of the swing a soft counterpoint to the chorus of crickets.

"Your work," Izzy said, "the clients coming tomorrow...you've done well. You know I would be content if you never sold a piece because we have all we need."

"I know. And without you," he replied, his gaze fixed on the horizon, "none of it would hold meaning."

She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the weight of the world they had built together.

"I love you," he whispered, the declaration a sacred offering laid bare in the night's embrace.

And there, beneath the indifferent canvas of stars, they held each other, two kindred spirits navigating the vast, uncharted expanse of the future, bound by love.

Izzy's hands rested atop the swell of her belly, the fabric of her dress stretched taut over new life within. She watched as her twin girls, two cherubic mirrors of mischief, played with Ana's twin boys and little Lillian. The children's laughter never ceased to make her smile.

"Hard to believe they're almost the same age," Ana said, her voice tinged with the weariness that comes from carrying yet another child. "Nine months apart. All five of them!"

"And now the next three—and hopefully three total—will be here in another five months. Sometimes I wish Rosie had a baby with the twins, but it wasn't her time."

Rosie stepped into view. The early stages of pregnancy were evident in her stance, a subtle shift to accommodate the burgeoning weight.

"Seems this porch is becoming a cradle of sorts," Rosie said.

"I like that idea. All of our babies playing together as we played together at their ages," Ana said. "I wonder why Mother never had more children after the three of us."

Izzy shook her head. "We may never know."

"It's not like Father is going to tell us anything," Rosie said, shaking her head.

The clinking of metal echoed across the yard, punctuated by masculine laughter and the dull thud of horseshoes. Albert and his friends were lost in their game, a small world unto themselves, a tableau of camaraderie and competition that seemed almost childlike in its simplicity.

Izzy watched from a distance, her fingers absently tracing the swell of her belly, the life within a secret murmur against her skin. Tomorrow, a group of men would come to purchase some of Albert's paintings.

After her sisters were gone, taking their husbands and Ana taking all three of her children, Izzy looked down at her daughters, sleeping in their shared bed. They looked so angelic and perfect. "It's so strange that my twins are identical and Ana's aren't," Izzy said softly as she felt rather than heard Albert walk up behind her.

"Don't you mean our twins?" he asked, smiling. "I wasn't aware you'd begun making children on your own."

She laughed softly, turning to face him. "Our children then. It just feels that they are more mine because they are twins. I know that's odd."

"It is, but I understand it. And I now understand why you felt the need to dress like your sisters for that party we had so long ago. Our girls don't seem to like it when they're not dressed alike."

Izzy laughed, kissing his chin. "Maybe they don't. I know Ana, Rosie, and I hated when we weren't allowed to dress alike."

He frowned. "You weren't allowed to?"

"At times," Izzy said sighing. "Father didn't think we should always look alike. I never understood why."

"I think there are many things about your father we'll always have to wonder about."

She rested her cheek on his shoulder. "I love our life together, Albert. I love that you paint and are no longer a businessman. I wish your parents would come back so they could see you now, still successful, but in a different way."

He shook his head. "I don't need them to. I got my father's approval of my business acumen, and that's all I really cared about. I like having more time to spend with you and the girls."

"I hope this one is a boy," Izzy said, resting her hand atop her burgeoning belly. "You won't be angry if it's another girl?"

"As long as she's perfect and just like you, I would be thrilled." He took her hand and led her from the nursery. "Boy or girl doesn't matter to me. As long as you're their mother."

She chuckled. "I hope I am. Otherwise, I've swallowed a watermelon seed or something."