What a Fool Believes

She burst into tears, ran across the entry as best she could in her heels and threw her arms around me. She pressed her cheek to the top of my head and all those curls covered me like a veil. "I hate being mad at you," she said. "I'm sorry, too, Dax. I know you meant well, and it must have seemed like we were all kind of conspiring against you. We need to communicate better, all of us."

I ate that crow, we flew back to Austin, and took all the girls white-water rafting in Colorado. This was my family, and I resolved that Campbell was going to be part of my family, too. I had a new daughter: a ferocious brown jungle-cat of a daughter, but we were family.

They were in Tarawa with us the night I proposed to Jacinta, three years later. I let them in on the plan and they "had something to do" while we went to dinner. When I dropped to one knee by the table before dessert, Jacinta's hand flew to her mouth and she burst into tears.

That threw my game off a little, but I barged ahead. She held out her hand and I slipped on the ring. She pulled me to my feet and threw herself into my arms, still crying like a baby.

"Umm... Peach, I was hoping this would make you happy," I told her, "not cause these tears of despair."

She made a watery little giggle into my shoulder. "I am happy," she said. "I cry when I'm extremely happy, too."

It was just a little curveball. I thought I hit it for grand slam.