A Notion of Love by Abbie Williams

ten.”
    I kissed the soft, fuzzy little head and smushy face of our boy. I added, “Of course they’re all there, goofball. He’s just perfect, isn’t he?”
    Chris cupped the back of my neck and kissed my temple; with his other hand he gently nudged at the baby’s fist, which opened and then clung to his daddy’s finger. I giggled, watching, while beside me Chris swallowed hard and I didn’t have to look to know that tears were building in his eyes. My throat thickened immediately.
    â€œHey, buddy,” Chris crooned. “Hey, little man. What should we call you?”
    â€œI was thinking Danny,” I said, after Dodge, despite the fact that he wasn’t actually my father. We’d talked about Daniel, or Thomas, after Chris’s dad. “Or does he look like a Tommy?”
    Chris rubbed his tears on one shoulder rather than relinquish his hold on either me or the baby. He pursed his lips in serious consideration and said, “You know, I don’t think he looks like either. You know I like Clint, what about that?”
    I said, “Christopher, we are not naming our baby after Dirty Harry.”
    â€œBut it’s such a cool name,” Chris insisted, warming up. “I think it suits him.”
    It was so rare for my husband to insist on anything. I tipped my head at our baby and tried it out, murmuring, “Hi there, Clint.”
    â€œLook at that!” Chris crowed in triumph, as the little one opened both eyes and blinked solemnly at us, just as I said his name.
    â€œAll right, you sold me,” I said, and Chris tipped his head to kiss both me and our new son.
    â€œClint Daniel, how’s that?” he said. “Or something else?”
    â€œNo, that has a nice ring to it,” I agreed, drawing my husband back for another kiss.
    He caressed my cheek and said, “I didn’t think I could be happier than when we got married, but I am at this moment.”
    â€œOh honey,” I said. “I know.”
    â€œI love you so much, Jillian,” he told me. “Promise me we’ll have a whole pack of kids.”
    I rolled my eyes, teasing, “Give me a minute here. I just forced this one out after nine months.”
    At that moment Mom, Elaine and Aunt Ellen came bustling in, all of them wanting to get their hands on the baby. I grinned at them and said, “Hi you guys, meet Clint.”

    August, 1990
    â€œCan I take this off yet?” I asked, my fingers going again to the bandana tied over my eyes. Unable to remove it yet, I gathered my long braid over one shoulder and twisted it in my right hand.
    Chris was driving us somewhere, while Clint was home with Elaine and Tom, who’d been smiling mysteriously, obviously privy to some secret that I was not; even with my eyes covered, I could sense my husband’s quivering anticipation. I slapped in his direction, demanding, “Tell me, Christopher!”
    â€œOkay, here we are,” he said, and the excitement in his voice was contagious. Before he gave me permission, I ripped away the blindfold and then stared out of the windshield in surprise. Chris had parked in a clearing a few miles outside of Landon, a roughly-circular area, probably about an acre, ringed with pines. I tipped my head at him and said, teasing, “You want to have sex in the car like in the old days?”
    Chris laughed and pulled me over for a quick kiss before saying, “Come on,” and bounding out of the car, hurrying around the hood to haul my much slower ass from the passenger seat. He took my hand and pulled me along to a For Sale sign; across its yellow length was stretched a SOLD banner. I looked at it for a moment, and then my gaze flashed over to my husband, who was practically hopping from one foot to the other in giddiness.
    â€œSold?” I asked him.
    â€œTo us!” he said triumphantly. “I just put the down payment on it yesterday. I’ll build you our