Final chapter!

So, here we are: the birth of the fifth and final son. To be honest, this is probably my favorite chapter in this story. (I think you'll see why when you get to the end.) At this point, the birth of a child has become routine for the Tray family - but that might just make it better. :)

This story is dedicated to CreativeGirl29, Helensg, and phnxgrl for reviewing every chapter.

A big thanks to my sister and first time beta, Cherise, for all her help.

Enjoy ...

Chapter 5

Jeff walked down the hall toward the waiting area. Five sons. He now had five sons. Little Alan Shepard Tracy had been in this world about an hour now, healthy and strong. Lucy was tired, but happy and eager for her family to be all together. Reaching the doorway to the waiting area, he heard his eldest two coaching his – now – second youngest.

"Okay, Gordo, when we see Alan he's gonna be real small," Scott explain, "so you can't hold him until your bigger, unless Mommy helps you."

"And don't jump on Mommy until she feels better," John added.

Sound advice. Lucy would be sore for a while and they didn't want to make things worse for her. Good thing his elder sons were so attentive to the younger ones.

"You're a big brother now, so you gotta help out and stuff," Scott continued. "You gotta share everything and play with him every day. Got it?"

"Gwacker!"

"No," John corrected. "Babies are too little for crackers."

"I want a cwacker."

"In a minute, Virgil," Scott promised. "We gotta see Baby Alan first."

"Gwacker! Gwacker!"

"I said, in a minute!"

Jeff chuckled to himself, deciding it was best not to put it off anymore. Nothing was worse than a hungry toddler – except two of them. Besides, it seemed that Scott was just as impatient as his brother – although for different reasons – and there was no reason to delay things any longer.

"Hey, boys, who's ready to meet Alan?"

"Me!"

"I am!"

"Me too!"

"Gwacker!"

Close enough. Jeff reached down to pick up Gordon, but Scott insisted that he could get him. Though his eldest wasn't quiet as possessive of his brother as he used to be, he wasn't about to take this moment from him. So, swinging Virgil up to his hip, the fifth-time father led the way down the hallway. Scott held one of Gordon's hands, while John took the other, and the three followed at the one-year-old's pace.

"Here we are," Jeff announced, bringing his middle son over to the bassinette. "Say hi to Alan."

"Hi Awan, I Virgie," he greeted, latching onto the side of the hospital crib. "I wike cowors. I wike ye-yo, and wed, and gween, and …"

The father couldn't help but chuckle at what a two-year-old deemed the most important thing to tell his newest brother. It was also amazing how many words he pronounced with the W-sound in it, especially when they weren't spelled with a W – yet the one word that was spelled with a W didn't have one. However, he had to cut him off to make room for his other brothers to greet the baby.

"Gordo, this is Alan," John introduced, helping Scott lift the boy up so he could see.

"See?" Scott said with a grin. "He's much better than a cracker."

"Baby," Gordon whispered, reaching out for him.

Jeff couldn't move fast enough to stop him before little nails scraped against new skin. Alan let out a wail which seemed to scare Gordon enough to make him cry. Before the man could blink, Scott had pulled the toddler away and wrapped his arms around him, promising that everything was okay – poor kid thought he broke his brother. While that was going on, John was leaning into the bassinet, checking on the baby and promising he would be okay. It was a good thing they were so quick, because Gordon wasn't the only one upset by Alan's cries.

"Awan okay, Daddy? Awan Okay?"

"Yes, Virgil. Alan's just fine."

And with this mob around him, he always would be. Jeff shared a look with his wife, who reached out for her middle son. When he handed him over, Lucy held his hand for a few seconds, silently conveying her joy at having the whole family together. The boys seemed ready to adapt to a new brother … but was their house ready for a fifth son?

6 MONTHS LATER

Lucy wasn't a person who stressed easily. Being a mother of five very young boys left no room for breakdowns. However, there were still days that it seemed to never end. The move to the family farm couldn't come soon enough. Having the elder Mrs. Tracy around those first few weeks had been a godsend. She didn't know what she would have done without the extra set of eyes … and hands … and feet. Speaking of which, that sounded like Jeff's car out front.

Walking through the living room, Lucy took a second to make sure that no one was bleeding or about to break anything. Virgil was finger-painting his latest masterpiece, Gordon was sharing his stuffed fish with Alan on the playmat, and Scott and John were playing with their oversized go-fish cards. Of course, they would become calm when their father got home.

"Hi, sweetheart," Jeff greeted, leaning over to give her a kiss. "How was your day."

"I'm not sure you want to know," Lucy answered honestly.

"That bad huh?"

"Let's just say, there is a reason Gordon and Alan have no clothes on."

He grimaced and offered to help make dinner. It was impossible to stay annoyed at him, especially since she was only annoyed that he hadn't been there to keep their babies out of the jam long enough for her to get the peanut butter out of John's hair. As sweet as it was for them to offer to make lunch, she was not letting any of them in the kitchen again – at least until they were 30.

"It's gonna be okay," Jeff promised. "This time next week, we'll be back in Kansas, in a bigger place, and another set of hands to help out."

"That's next week," Lucy signed. "Can't you take a few days off? At least to help us pack?"

"I'll do what I can, but start-ups take a lot of work."

While she understood that, it was still hard. At least the boys tended to look after each other, even if they may not do it in the best of ways. Her firstborn was so responsible, and her next two were so calm and quiet … she should have seen the last two coming.

"Mommy!" Scott called, running into the kitchen with a paper in his hands. "Virg made a picture!"

He proudly held up the colorful portrait of a fruit tree – or maybe it was a puppy – and Lucy couldn't help but smile. At least they were behaving themselves. Jeff took the painting, commenting on how good it was, and stuck it to the refrigerator with a magnet.

"Gordo made a picture too," Scott informed them.

"Well, bring it here. We can put it next to Virgil's."

"We can't," Scott shook his head.

"Why not?" Lucy asked.

"Because Alan won't stick to the fridge."

It took about half a second for his words to sink in and both parents hurried into the living room. Sure enough, Gordon had indeed painted several brightly colored splotches … all over his baby brother's back.

"At least they're getting along," Jeff offered. "I'll get Michelangelo, if you want to clean up the Sistine Chapel."

She nodded and carefully picked up her youngest son. Good thing they only bought the boys washable paint. Heaven help them all when Virgil discovered oil pastels. As she scrubbed her baby in one sink, and Jeff washed their toddler's hands in the other, Lucy looked over at them.

"Just so you know, we're done at five."

"Mommy! Daddy! Johnny made the kitty fly!"

Her husband sighed and set Gordon on the floor. The boy ran straight for the living room, calling for their cat. Jeff, moving much slower, handed Lucy a towel for Alan and followed him out.

"Agreed."

What did you think?

Let me know while I get back to work on Camp Gatewood.