Tia

Six Months Later

“I don’t know how you do it,” Lilah says as she places her son on the floor with my children and Kate’s little boy.

Already, my own boys seem to dwarf their two in size, even though they’re a couple months younger. And despite being premature, all six babies are already starting to become mobile.

“I’m exhausted with just one,” Kate says, picking up Maja who’s crawled to the edge of the carpet and setting her back in the middle. “But they sure are cute. I heard you’ve been asked to do a reality series.”

I laugh and shake my head. “That’s not happening. We’re already in the spotlight enough. We don’t need any more attention.”

“Still,” Lilah says. “It would be a great way to show the world how our families work. Make it more...” She shrugs. “Real I guess, and not something to be afraid of.”

I know what she means. There will always be people who fight against what they don’t understand Who’ll spew hate at people who are different than them.

“Well, maybe you should do the show,” I say.

“I think it’s the whole six babies, six husbands that have people intrigued.”

“Maybe.” I take a sip of my tea. “But Salinger is working on other ways to help the world come to terms with the new family structures that are becoming the norm.”

“Did I hear my name?” Sal asks as he comes into the room, scooping up Finley in his arms and tickling him, before setting him back down again and kissing each one of the children before placing a kiss on my cheek.

“I thought you had a meeting with the Prime Minister of Canada today.” I grab his tie and pull him back for one more kiss, this one on the lips, then release him.

“I do, but I wanted to see you before I left.” He nods at Kate and Lilah. “Sorry for interrupting.”

I swear they both give a little sigh as they look at him, and I shake my head, knowing that even women with six husbands of their own are in awe of my men.

“We were just about to leave,” Kate says, standing and picking up her son.

Kate follows suit. “Our husbands were helping Grace and Charles build a new community center in town, and we’re going to talk with the Saint Augustine ladies, see if there’s anything we can help Grace with.”

The work that’s already been done is incredible. The small community of women and children are already starting to thrive, and Grace reported yesterday that some of the families that left the island years ago have started to return.

Hope started here with a single white blossom; it’s only fitting that Emerson’s parents have renamed the small town Hopetown.

Salinger stays with the children as I walk Lilah and Kate to their car. Six months ago they wouldn’t have been allowed to drive, and especially not alone, but things are changing.

We’re safe and free.

And I have each of my husbands to thank for that.

Back inside, I find that all of my men have come downstairs and are sitting on the floor with the babies, and Huxley has brought Beth and Caroline in from the pony ride he’d taken them on.

Even Mason is here, sitting amongst his half-siblings with a grin that is so much like Emerson’s. The boy had a difficult time after his mother kidnapped him and tried to use him as leverage for me. I’m not sure how much he saw, but it was enough for him to turn silent for a few months. It was only after the babies were born that he finally starting opening up.

He stays with us more often now. And while I know Grace would rather he was with her, she’s also busy with the Saint Augustine survivors. And I appreciate having Mason around.

“I think Devin’s hungry again,” Mason says, the baby on his hip, matching turquoise eyes shining up at him like he hung the sun and the moon. “Do you want me to get a bottle for him.”

I tousle the boy's hair, then kiss his cheek which even though he makes a face, I know he loves it.

“What would I do without you,” I say. “Thank you, Mason.”

Taking Devin with him, he leaves the room to get a bottle.

As I turn back toward the living room carpet, I see that my husbands are all in a heated conversation.

“What is it now?” I ask, scanning the room as I kneel down on the carpet beside them.

They may all be fathers, but they all have different ideas about parenting and I’m wondering if we are going to have another lively debate on tummy time or cloth diapers. Not that I mind. I appreciate their passion and involvement. There is no way I’d want to make all of the decisions on my own when it comes to raising children.

“It’s kind of important, actually,” Emerson says.

“What? Tell me,” I say, reaching for Maja and pulling her to me. There has been so much trauma over the last year and a half, and some days I still doubt this is my life and that we are safe. Now, looking at the somber faces of my husbands, I wonder what terrible news they are about to deliver.

Giles clears his throat. “We need to discuss....”

“Just say it.” My tone is demanding and fear crawls up my throat.

“The thing is, we need a schedule,” Fallon says.

“Schedule?” I sigh, relieved that our problems have changed so drastically. We used to discuss how to outrun mercenaries, now we are worried about childcare shifts. “Is this about the night feedings again? Because I spoke with Grace and there are two women we can hire to help--”

I’m cut off by Banks. “No. No one can help us with this.”

I take a deep breath to steady myself. “I may be capable, but I’m not superwoman. More help might be a good thing.”

“If you want another nanny, or two or ten, that’s wonderful,” Emerson says gently. “We know you’re not a superhero, but Tia, you’re doing so well.”

“Then what’s the schedule for?” I ask.

Salinger twists his lips, as if not wanting to say the words. “It’s for… us.”

“Us who?” I ask, looking at Maja in my arms. She’s rooting around and I offer her my breast.

“Us as in your husbands. We thought maybe we could each take a night, and then on the seventh day, it’s your night alone.”

“You want a sex schedule?” I ask, lowering my voice, surprised at the suggestion. “Am I not meeting your needs?”

Huxley moves closer to me, taking my hand. “Baby, it’s about us wanting to meet your needs. To take one more thing off your plate. We know how you make such an effort to give us equal attention, but that isn’t fair to put all on you.”

“When I met with the president of Finland,” Sal says. “He mentioned a schedule that his family uses.”

“You talked to the president of Finland about our sex life?” I ask, eyes widening.

Sal chuckles. “Of course not. He said he needed to leave after dinner because it was his night with his wife. I thought, huh, that’s interesting.”

I twist my lips, thinking it over. “But where is the spontaneity in a sex schedule?”

Giles shakes his head. “Not a sex schedule. A nighttime schedule. We want a way to respect you, to take one more thing off your mind, and at the same time, make sure we all get time to take care of you. Cherish you.”

“You’re sure it’s not because I am doing a crappy job of taking care of you?” I look around the room.

Fallon laughs. “You do nothing halfway Tia.”

I’m already warming to the idea. I would enjoy one night with each of my husbands, not worrying if I was giving everyone equal attention. The concept seems like another way to honor one another. Smiling at my husbands, I am, once again, thankful that they are looking for ways to be selfless, to meet not only my needs but one another’s needs too.

“But how would we decide who gets which night?” I ask.

Fallon grins. “Only one way would be fitting.”

“And what’s that?” I look around the room, admiring my husbands as they all break out into laughter.

Salinger gives me a cocky smile. “With a lottery, of course.”