* * * * epilogue -
“Did he accept it?”
“Yes,” he replied, knowing she meant the name - not the pardon. That sort of politics had never impressed her. “He seemed a little disconcerted that we’d asked for Sydney’s input though.”
“You didn’t tell him about Yellow, did you?”
“I probably shouldn’t have. I think he was a bit overwhelmed by that point already.” He smiled at her low laugh and refused to feel guilty about doing so. “I did refrain from mentioning that the poor cat was orange though.”
“Poor Sydney,” she said through another snort of laughter. “She meant well.”
“Lucky Stephen,” he countered. “Can you imagine what she would have wanted to name him if we’d asked her when she was six?”
“Considering what she calls him now, I shudder to think what she’d have come up with then. And really, I doubt he would have been much better at that age.” There was fond - if somewhat melancholy- amusement in her voice. “He probably would have named the cat Orange. He’s always been a very literal child.”
“Did you ever wonder…?” He immediately regretted the question and was unable to finish it.
“What could have been?” she concluded softly. There was a long pause before she spoke again. “Sydney would have adored him. He was a beautiful baby.”
“That adoration wouldn’t have lasted long. The novelty would have certainly worn off by the time he’d learned to talk.”
“Undoubtedly. They would have tried to kill each other as teenagers.”
“If not earlier. And they would have made both of us insane long before then.”
They didn’t admit aloud how nearly those things had come to pass anyhow. Nor did they speak of the other differences there would have been - of the lives not lost, the scars not inflicted. For the moment, it was enough to speculate wistfully about mischievous children and ill-named felines.
“Could you have managed teaching both of them to drive?”
“I sincerely doubt it. Sydney was bad enough. I can’t imagine going through that twice...”
* * * *