Free Ever After by William Wharton Page A

Dad’s little disability pension from when he was wounded in World War II. My parents were crazy, lucky, or dumb. Maybe it was crazy-dumb-luck, because we hardly ever even got sick. I don’t think that any of us four kids saw a doctor more than six or seven times in twenty years, and then it was mostly to get shots.
    Mom is a bit of a witch, a good witch. She has fixed up the whole upper floor of that big house in New Jersey just for us, with a crib for Dayiel, a bassinet for Mia, and separate beds (and rooms) for Wills and us. We aren’t even supposed to be coming. Could she have bewitched that plane? When I was a teenager, I used to think she had some special power, the way she’d always know things. Now I see it has nothing to do with witches. She just has strong intuitions that she believes in and then acts on them. She’ll never believe what’s happened to us—that’s not the kind of witch she is. She’s a practical one.
    We sleep like dead people. It’s ten o’clock before I hear Bert rolling out of bed to get Mia. She’s slept through the night for the first time. Or maybe she did wake but we didn’t know it. He tucks her in beside me and she begins to nurse furiously. Bert climbs out of bed, and goes downstairs. Wills is still asleep.
    I know that Dad and Mom, even after being up late the night before, will have already played tennis, swum, gone for a bike ride, or maybe a little jog.
    Dad’s something of a fading jock, but Mom was always the most unathletic person I’ve known. Now, she’s out there, hitting a tennis ball two-handed, and hitting it hard. She runs her two miles every morning, slowly, but she does it. I wonder if, after the kids have grown some, I’ll ever get back in shape. I’m the same as Mom, no athlete, but I like feeling good.
    We have a wonderful week. Dayiel’s in and out of the water, playing in the sand with her granddad, making castles, ball ramps, and running around on a beach that seems to have no limits.
    Bert is a regular water-bug and Wills even more so. They’re in and out of the ocean with Dad about twenty times a day. Wills has more friends than he can play with and disappears for long stretches. Both Bert and Dad are a lot more confident about the kids than I am and don’t seem to be watching them. Bert comes up to a shower that’s attached to the boardwalk, washing off Mia. After he’s changed her, I go over.
    â€œAren’t you watching Wills? He’s out there in those high waves, riding on one of those boogie boards, and he could sink, or even float out of sight. You’re as bad as Dad. You never expect anything dangerous to happen.”
    Bert squints up at me into the sunlight.
    â€œLook, Kate. You see those guys sitting up on those white stands, wearing the red jackets? Those are lifeguards. They’re watching everybody, especially little kids, and they know this water like the back of their hands. I was talking to one, in fact the captain of the lifeguards, and do you know that, in the almost hundred years since they started having lifeguards here, nobody has ever drowned on this beach? This is probably the safest place in the world. So relax and enjoy.”
    I turn away. This is so like him. But he’s right. From then on I try to relax and enjoy. It’s like coming home.
    Mom and I share the cooking, and the boys take care of the little ones. Even Uncle Robert, my tall little brother, does his share. He likes Day, although generally he hates little kids. After watching her, he then has to explain to us, in his slow, methodical way, why she’s exceptional.
    Mom drives us to the plane. Everything is on schedule. If Mom is involved I have the feeling that everything will be fine.
    We arrive in Oregon, and Bert’s brother Steve picks us up. I have no idea what to expect. The road from the airport is so full of weird vehicles, RVs, cars pulling trailers, vans,