Springer Mountain Bride

"Oh, Chris..." She put her arms around my shoulders and she kissed me. "You're not going to lose me. I might not have figured out who I am yet, but I know for certain that I don't want to be someone who doesn't want to be with you. I love you, Chris. You are kind and generous and patient and strong; I don't deserve you and I'd be shattered if I ever lost you. I just hope and pray that I don't turn out to be someone that... that you don't want around anymore."

"That's never going to happen, Molly," I assured her. "I love you, too. I love that you're bold and daring and stubborn and the only thing bigger than your dreams is your determination to make them come true. I wish... I wish I knew how to tell you that nothing is going to change how I feel... to convince you that I want to be with you forever."

"Did... did you want to get married?"

"Neither of us really has a lot of faith in marriage, do we? It's kind of an empty promise that's let us both down." I started to stand, and Molly took the baby back from me and held her while I got to my feet. "This... this van was supposed to be, I dunno, kind of like a promise or an offer or a covenant to be with you forever..." I confessed, "Wherever the road takes us."

"...Yes," she replied after a moment.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'll run away and live in a van with you," she clarified with a smile, handing the baby back up to me, and pulling herself to her feet. "If this is your proposal to be with me on terms that are ours alone and no one else's, then I accept."

Molly wrapped her arms around Springer and me, and she kissed me and I kissed her back and in that kiss was a promise as strong as any vow. I knew she'd be there when I woke up every morning; maybe not right there, but not gone. And I knew that she wasn't the spoiled free spirit her parents had raised or the obedient pupil Bryan had engaged or the broken loner who had fucked a stranger in the woods. She was someone in between and someone more and no matter what that meant, I knew she was mine.

"Where will we go first?" she asked when we'd caught our breath.

"Well, um... I thought maybe we'd swing through Endicott so your folks can meet their granddaughter. If your dad throws me out again at least I can sleep in the van." That got me a laugh. "After that... I don't know. I don't really have a plan. Anywhere we want."

"I love it," she confirmed with a smile, "and I love you."

"I know. I love you too."

Molly had some early thoughts on a fold-away crib/playpen combination and asked if we could make the seats rotate to face the rear when we parked. She suggested a skyline of Baltimore painted on the ceiling so I could wake up to a familiar sight every morning. While I held Springer, she ran into the house for a sketch pad and measuring tape. Between her creativity and Pete's know-how, I was pretty confident that we'd have a setup that would make any #vanlife blogger jealous.

***

It took us about two months to complete the transformation, but by late summer we were ready to move into our new home. As the truck with our storage container drove off, I locked the front door of our Essex row house. Our first tenants would move in later that week.

Molly held Springer, and we walked out to the end of the dock to look out over the river one last time before we set off for Ohio.

Her mother once told me that Molly needs a man who can stand up to her, someone to keep her grounded. Her mother was wrong. Molly doesn't need a man to keep her feet on the ground; she needs a partner to help her dreams take flight.

"So what do you think Danger Girl?" I asked, holding her hand in mine. "Do you want to go on an adventure?"

"I do," she answered.

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Epilogue

Springer had grown into an inventive, self-reliant toddler. At nearly four years old, she could play on her own for hours. She would play with other kids, provided they played her way—she threw a tantrum if her cousins tried to boss her around. There was a lot of her mother in her.

At the moment, she had her Barbie doll wedged into the cab of her big, yellow Tonka bulldozer and was using it to push piles of leaves around our Oregon campsite making "Brmmm Brmmm" noises. Molly sat at the picnic table wearing the woolen chamanto she'd bought in Chile last year. She was working on her tablet with a stylus, keeping one eye on our daughter.

"Hey you," she called as I stepped out of the van into the cool morning air. "How late were you up last night?"

"A little after one," I confessed, pouring a cup of coffee from the pot warming on the camp stove. "But after this morning's conference call, I should have the rest of the day free."

"Oh good. I should be done here in about an hour."

I kissed Molly on the cheek and left her to her work. It had taken time, but she had rebuilt her client base and usually had twenty to fifty billable hours a week at a rate she was happy with.

"Good morning, June-bug," I greeted my daughter, kneeling down next to her. She didn't respond—Springer might not be the most well-socialized little girl. It was getting close to time that we do something about that. But not today.

"How many leaf piles is Barbie going to make?"

"A hundred, hundred, million," Springer replied as casually as if she'd said "three."

"Well, she'd better hurry. Do you see that mountain up there?" I asked pointing through a break in the trees.

Springer halted her construction project long enough to look up and reply "Uh-huh."

"We're going to have lunch on top of that mountain."

"Woah!" she exclaimed, her eyes going wide. "That's far!"

"It's about two and half miles away. Do you think you can walk that far?"

"Mmm..." Springer considered with her finger pressed to her lips. "Yes!"

"That's my girl!" I tousled her hair, knowing she'd be riding on my back for most of the hike.

She and Barbie went back to their leaf piles. I checked east-coast time on my watch and determined I had enough time for some breakfast before I had to dial-in to the meeting. With two mugs, one full of coffee and one full of Cheerios and milk, I sat down next to Molly and watched our daughter play while I ate.

Among the dishes that sat out drying from last night's dinner, Molly reached for a small, white, plastic wand without looking up from her tablet, and nonchalantly slid it across the table towards me.

"What's this?" I asked, picking it up when she didn't answer. It took me a second to recognize the home pregnancy test, and to process the meaning of the blue + symbol it displayed.

"Wait... Is this... Are you...?" My brain seemed to be pulling me in a hundred directions all at once.

"We screwed up again, Beer Haver," she smiled, looking up at me from her tablet.

"Wow," was all I could manage to say. The last time she told me she was pregnant, she was scared and alone and uncertain of her future. I had to be the rock under her feet. Now she sat next to me calm and serene, so I had the luxury of freaking out a little. When the silence got awkward, "Wow" was still the only thing I had.

And then I finally managed to settle on "I love you."

"I know," she told me, leaning in. "I love you, too." And she kissed me and I kissed her back and despite a million fears and concerns and worries, in that moment, I knew that everything was going to work out alright.

"Hey Springer," I called with a smile, breaking our kiss at last. "How would you like to have a baby brother or sister?"

Springer looked up and gave a simple but definitive "No." before going back to her bulldozer.

"Well, that kinda sucks," Molly frowned.

"She'll come around," I promised.

After my conference call, we made our way through the quiet campground to the Saddle Mountain trailhead. Molly had our lunch in her day pack and we held Springer's hands between us while I wore her empty child-carrier on my back.

As we passed the information shelter, Molly and I turned our daughter loose and watched her run up the trail, her bright pink jacket clashing against the spring greenery. She'd run out of energy and ask to be carried before too long.

"You know," Molly looked at me, "maybe we ought to get married this time."

"Yeah, that seems like the thing to do," I agreed.

I took Molly's hand in mine, and together we followed Springer up the hill and into the woods.

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Author's Note: Thank you for reading. While I hope it stands well on it's own, this story is a sequel to my earlier work, Dancing Naked in the Rain which is about how Molly and Chris first hooked-up. That story is just over two pages long in the Exhibitionist/Voyeur category, and is much more salacious than this one. It may not appeal to Romance category readers, but it is there if you'd care to read about how they met.

Also, special thanks to CiaoSteve, vianyajo, and xelliebabex.