Diane shook her head, looking at my hard work in awe. “You’re amazing, Mr. Maddox.”

“New icebox, new couch … now new carpet and paint? We’ll have a whole new house about the time we’re ready to sell.”

Diane playfully jabbed her elbow into my side. “We’re never selling this house.”

Thomas made a show of waving his chubby little hand in front of his nose. “’Cause it’s stinky.”

“No, it’s wonderful. That’s the smell of new paint and carpet, and Daddy”—she paused as I leaned over her belly to peck her lips—“even put all the furniture back while we were at the grocery store.”

“Oh!” I said, heading to the driveway with a start. I popped the trunk and loaded my arms with brown paper sacks and brought them into the house. As I walked into the kitchen, I blew away the leafy celery stems that were poking out the top and tickling my face. Diane giggled at my funny faces as I set the groceries on the counter. She dipped her hands into the sacks to unload the fresh vegetables. “Two more,” I said jogging back to the car. I lifted the remaining sacks, slammed the trunk shut, and walked back in, whistling. I was glad the carpet and paint were finished, and we could enjoy my last night before work. I’d just celebrated my second anniversary at Eakins PD. We didn’t get many Sunday nights together, and now, we could relax in our practically new living room.

I walked through the mouth of the hall into the kitchen, frozen mid-step. Thomas and Diane were staring at the puddle on the linoleum, stunned.

For half a second, I worried about broken glass, but then I recognized that her water had broken. The doctor had to break her water during Thomas’s delivery, so I was surprised to see her standing there in her bare feet, wiggling her toes and grossed out by the liquid on the floor. She hadn’t even complained of any contractions.

She grunted, and her knees bent. She reached for the icebox to steady herself. “Jim?” she said, her voice shrill.

“Okay. Babies are coming. Don’t panic. Going to get the bag, and I’ll be right back.” I sprinted up the stairs, and just as I hooked my hand around the strap, I heard Diane moan. I bounded down the stairs three at a time, nearly breaking my ankle as I landed at the bottom.

“Oh!” Diane shrieked, holding out her free hand.

Thomas was sopping up the water with a towel.

“Good job, son. You ready to meet your new little sisters or brothers?”

Thomas grinned wide as I picked him up in one arm. I supported Diane’s weight, holding her to my side with my free arms, and dipped my head so she could hook her elbow behind my neck. I walked sideways out to the car, helping Diane in. Thomas stood up in the center of the bench seat, stroking his mom’s hair while she breathed.

“Shit! The keys!”

“The dining table,” she said, her voice low and controlled. She began her Lamaze, and I turned on my heels, sprinting into the house, swiping the keys, and then returning to the car. I slid in behind the wheel of our green 1970 Chevelle, and I yanked the gear into reverse. I stretched my arm across the top of the bench seat behind Thomas and Diane, and I turned around watching behind me as I stomped on the gas.

Diane caught Thomas when he jerked forward as I braked and stared at me with wide eyes. “Get us there in one piece, Daddy,” she said.

I nodded, a little embarrassed. I was a cop. Panic wasn’t supposed to be possible for me, but I’d been nervous for four and a half months, knowing Diane was going to deliver twins. So many things could go wrong with a single birth, never mind two.

Diane leaned over, grabbed her belly with both hands, and moaned.

I pulled the gear into drive, and we raced toward the hospital.

Thomas slipped his arms around Trenton’s shoulders while Taylor stood behind his twin at the podium. Tyler repositioned the microphone’s thin, silver neck, tapping the foam cover before gesturing for Taylor to start. Taylor shot Tyler a look like that was not what they had agreed to, but he stepped up and bent down.

“Dad was the best assistant coach in the league. He had a busy schedule with weird hours, but I don’t remember him ever missing a game. He didn’t so much coach as carry the ball bags for Mom and cheer from the dugout. Everyone said we had the best parents. When Mom died, no one said that anymore, but to us, they were still perfect. When Dad stopped missing Mom so much, he picked right up where he left off. He coached our team”—he paused, breathing out a small laugh—“we didn’t win as many games”—the congregation laughed—“but we loved him, and he took us out for ice cream after every game, win or lose. He packed our lunches, drove us to football practice, and attended all of our games. When Dad was around, I was never scared, whether it was because he knew the right thing to do, or because he had my back. He was the toughest man I’ve ever known, and my brothers are damn tough. I know if he had to go out, protecting his family is the way he’d want it to be.” Taylor touched his knuckle to his nose. “We couldn’t’ve had a better dad, and that’s the truth. The same for our wives. And my kids couldn’t’ve had a better Papa. I wish we lived closer so they could have gotten to know each other better, but the time he spent with them, he made it count. That’s what I want everyone to remember about Jim Maddox. He made his life count.”

Tyler hugged his brother, and then he opened a piece of paper. His lips trembled, and he looked out at the crowd and then back down at his paper a few times before he spoke. He cleared his throat and then took a deep breath. Taylor put a hand on his shoulder, and Thomas did the same, then Travis and Trenton added their strength for their brother as well.

Tyler’s lips formed into an “o,” and he breathed out. “I love my Dad,” he said, his voice breaking. He swallowed and then shook his head. Thomas patted him on the shoulder for encouragement. “He had to divide his time between five sons and his wife, but I never felt like I had to wait for his attention. We weren’t rich, but I don’t remember wanting for anything. I remember when Mom died; I wondered if he would get remarried because he’d always said there would never be another woman like our mom. When Travis left for college, I asked him if he’d reconsider, thinking maybe he was just concentrating on his kids. He said the only woman he’d ever love was waiting for him in Heaven. I’m just … I love my dad, and I’m sad he’s gone, but I’m happy for them that they’re together now. They’ve been waiting a long time to be together again, and it comforts my heart to know they’re somewhere right now, unable to keep their hands off each other, grossing out all of your passed friends and relatives the way they used to do to us.” The crowd chuckled. “They never spent more than a shift apart from the time they met until Mom died, and I know Dad never got over it. So Dad, I’m glad … I’m so happy that you’re with Mom now. I know she’s telling you how proud she is of how well you took care of us, because you did.”