Melissa
11 Years Later

“Are you sure this is how you want to spend your birthday?” Ash asked.
I nodded. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than spend my special day with the special people in my life.”
Ash squinted at me suspiciously.
“She said she’s sure!” Lucy, our daughter, piped up. “Let’s go already!” She slammed down the visor on her mountain biking helmet emphatically.
“All right,” Ash said, lowering his visor.
He shoved forward, sending his mountain bike over the edge and down the beginning of the run. Lucy squealed with excitement as she followed. I took up the rear, marveling at the mountain views spread out before me, everything glowing in the gilded morning sunlight.
Ash kept a quick pace down the mountain biking trail, but Lucy and I were able to keep up easily. I was well-practiced at the sport now, and Lucy had been riding a bike since she was old enough to stand. Even though she was nine years old, and arguably better at mountain biking than I was, my heart skipped a beat whenever I saw her fly up a ramp and shoot into the air. But every time, she landed safely on the other side, and my heart resumed beating.
“Did you see me?” she asked when we reached the bottom. “I must have gone ten feet in the air!”
“I did see you,” I replied in a motherly tone. “You’re so brave.”
“I’m not brave, Mom,” she whined. “I’m a mountain biker.”
“Atta girl,” Ash said, giving her a fist-bump.
For the next two hours, while we completed several more runs down the mountain, I thought about how far we had come in the past decade. Ash was an incredible father. He still kept himself guarded, refusing to open up to most people, but Lucy had a secret entrance that led directly to the center of his heart. I knew he would fight an army if it meant protecting our daughter, and I loved him for it.
I loved him for a dozen other reasons, too.
When we rode our bikes home, we found Noah and my other daughter, Sara, wheeling two kayaks down to the river. Noah waved to us, but Sara was focused entirely on the task with the kayak. She was so serious for an eight year old. Noah was convinced she would become an astrophysicist or some other career that would take advantage of her phenomenal math skills, but I had a secret hope that she would become a doctor like her father.
“Everything’s packed,” Noah said, kissing me on the cheek. “Turkey sandwiches.”
“Extra mustard on mine?” I asked.
Sara tossed her ponytail and scoffed. “As if I would forget how you like your sandwich. On your birthday.”
“Sometimes Mom likes mayo!” Lucy argued, removing her helmet.
Sara rolled her eyes. “Rarely. Only one time out of the last ten sandwiches.”
Yeah. She was our analytical little girl.
I changed clothes, then climbed into a kayak with Sara, while Noah had a kayak all to himself. My arms were tired from mountain biking—the sport required a surprising amount of arm strength to stabilize yourself—but Sara picked up the slack as we paddled upriver.
It was a perfect July day—the morning chill was gone, banished by the warmth of the noon sun. Sure, the winters in Colorado were rough. But the incredible summer months more than made up for it.
We kayaked upriver while Sara told me about the summer math reading she had been working on. Most kids dreaded summer schoolwork, but Sara was eager to get a head start on trigonometry—a subject she would be taking at the middle school with kids five years older than her. I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten a prodigy for a daughter. I insisted she got it from her father, but Noah would always smile and say that I had good genes.
Lunch was taken on a little sandy beach where Noah and I used to come to make out when we were younger. We still occasionally had some alone time to do that, but usually we were with Sara or the other girls. As we laid out on a beach towel and ate our sandwiches in the sun, I couldn’t decide which was more satisfying.
The trip home was downriver, and I let out kayak drift for much of it. Even though I had more plans today, I was in no hurry to get back. Every moment spent with one of my daughters alone was special. And this was one of the few outdoor activities that would coax Sara out of her room.
“You’re late,” Noah said when we docked the kayaks back at home. “We’ll put these away for you.”
I gave him a quick kiss. “You’re the best, Doctor Richardson.”
Sara made a disgusted noise. “You two are gross.”
Grinning, Noah wrapped me in his arms and kissed me more passionately. We still had that spark, even after over a decade together. The kiss went on and on until Sara finally dragged her kayak back to the shed, complaining about our affection the entire time.
“I love embarrassing her,” Noah said.
“I love that you love it.”
He held onto me a few more moments before finally releasing his grip. Then I ran inside and changed again, before hopping on my mountain bike and riding it over to the campsite next door.
Jack was waiting on a four-wheeler with Amanda, my third daughter. He narrowed his eyes at me and looked at his watch.
“You’re late.”
“Only by five minutes!” I gave him a kiss, then leaned down to kiss Amanda in her mousy grey hair. “Hey there, peanut.”
“Hi, Mom,” she said sheepishly. She was more bookish than the others, devouring any and all literature we put in front of her.
“I’ll make it up to you later,” I promised Jack.
He gave me half a smirk. “Yeah you will.”
Amanda looked up. “What’s that mean?”
“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” I said, jumping on the other four-wheeler.
“But I’m seven!” she complained. “You can tell me now.”
“It means she will give me a back rub later,” Jack said. “Now hold on tight.”
Sitting in front of Jack, Amanda could barely reach up and grip the handlebars. Jack placed his hands on either side of hers, then revved the engine.
“Not so loud!” I told him. “You’re disturbing the customers!”
“What?” he shouted, revving it even louder. “I can’t hear you over the sound of the engine!”
Amanda giggled. She loved this game, probably because it annoyed me so much. Then Jack’s four-wheeler shot away, spraying gravel behind him.
I laughed and followed him out of camp and toward the trail. Theresa and her husband had run the campsite for eight years before retiring. Rather than allow an outside investor to come in and scoop up the place, Jack and I had purchased their share, returning full ownership to us. For the past decade, I’d been doing odd jobs around town: barista, diner server, even a brief stint as a substitute teacher at the school down in Gunnison. But now that we owned the campsite outright, running it was my full-time job. Enough time had passed, and so much had changed about the place, that I no longer felt like I was replacing Jack’s ex, Sam. The campsite was ours.
I loved it. The chaos of the campsite matched the chaos of having three daughters with three different men.
Amanda squealed with joy as we rode the four-wheelers along the trail, eventually branching away from the river and heading into the foothills around Mount Crested Butte. We soared up one hill and down another, like a roller coaster without the tracks. Just as it had when we rode on these the first time over a decade ago, the ride made me feel free in a way that nothing else did.
And it was Amanda’s favorite activity. Other than reading, of course.
Instead of turning around at our typical spot, Jack kept going along the trail. Into the woods it went, winding slower, before we reached the barbecue joint where Ash used to work. There were a few cars in the parking lot, but far less than usual.
“We can’t eat here today,” I told Jack when we stopped. “I called, and they’re closed for a private event.”
Jack took off his helmet and winced. “Let’s poke our heads inside. Maybe they’ll let us order something to go.”
“I want bacon burnt ends!” Amanda announced.
“We’ll see,” I said, following Jack inside.
The moment I stepped through the door, I stopped dead in my tracks. The room was full of people I knew. Theresa and her husband, and Marlene from the diner. Eric, who owned of Secret Stash, and the Harper sisters whose coffee shop was the best in town. And then there was Ash and Noah standing over to the side, with Sara and Lucy between them. And behind them were two grey-haired people who looked like my parents, along with my brother Brian and his wife.
I didn’t understand what was happening until I saw the huge banner strewn across the rafters:

HAPPY 40th BIRTHDAY MEL

“SURPRISE!” everyone shouted with flawless synchronicity.
I looked at Jack. “Closed for a private event, huh?”
He grinned in victory. “We are the private event. I was certain you would figure it out.”
“She didn’t!” Amanda insisted. “She had no idea!”
“You mean you knew about this, too?” I asked.
She bobbed her head. “I can keep a secret.”
I hugged her, and Jack, and the rest of my family. Then I made my rounds among the other gathered guests. They all squeezed me tightly and told me how much they loved me. Even the people from town who weren’t my family.
“We may not be family, but we’re mountain family,” Marlene insisted.
I gazed around the room at all the people in my life. There was so much love in this room, more than I ever expected to feel when I quit my job and booked a one-way ticket to Colorado all those years ago.
The future wasn’t guaranteed, but it was pretty great anyways.