He took Ginger through the citrus grove, the setter prancing in the dirt when she wasn’t sniffing tree trunks. Decker picked some melon-sized pink grapefruits—great for tomorrow’s breakfast. He also pocketed a half-dozen tangerines. Releasing Ginger from her leash, he watched her scamper through the trees, then he sat down under the leafy branches of an avocado tree, his back against the thick gnarled trunk. Pulling out a tangerine, he peeled it, fastballing chunks of rind through the trees, each throw a little farther than the last. Scattering peel was his idea of a natural compost pile.

He popped half the tangerine in his mouth, the fruit swollen with sweet juice. The dog returned to his side and sniffed his hands. Giving her a tangerine wedge, Decker listened to the nighttime lullaby and decided life was good. He slumped against the tree and closed his eyes just for a moment. The next time he opened them, Nora was shaking his shoulder and Ginger was licking his face.

“Are you okay, Sergeant?”

“I’m up, I’m up.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you—”

“I’m up.” He stood, hit his head on a branch, then cursed. “I’m up.”

“My Lord, are you okay?”

“I’ll survive.” He rubbed his head. “I fell asleep out here. Can’t believe I did that. What time is it?”

“Little after two,” Nora said. “I heard Rina get up and went in to check on her, and you weren’t there….” She tightened the folds of her robe against her body. “I got worried.”

“I’m fine.” He stretched his creaky bones. “It’s time to make my entrance. I’ll go in and talk to Rina. Go see my baby, too. C’mon, Ginger. Time to return to civilization.”

Rina said, “And how’s our midnight camper this evening?”

Decker towel-dried his hair. The shower had revived him instead of making him sleepier. He hung the towel on the back of the door and slipped under the sheets. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Peter, there’s consideration and then there’s common sense.” Rina released the baby from her breast and wiped her mouth. “You’ve been going practically nonstop for the past few days. You need your sleep.”

“You and me both, kiddo.” Decker leaned over for a better view of his little daughter, then extended his hands. “May I?”

“She needs to be burped.”

“I’ll burp her.” He stood, threw a cloth diaper over his shoulder, and placed his infant daughter on his chest. Gently, he tapped her back. She molded against him, her tiny body as soft as eiderdown. A moment later, Hannah let out a deep, resonant belch. It always cracked him up to hear sailor sounds coming from a tiny little body.

“We did it, Mommy,” Decker said.

Rina’s smile was wan. Decker sat down on the bed and cradled the infant in his arms.