Long-Lost Father

“You walked funny and have a stick to balance. You have a sore leg. And you have sad lines,” Casey said softly, “here—” she touched his mouth “—and here,” touching his forehead.

“I might be old,” he replied to gain time, stunned by what she’d said and how she’d reached her conclusions—and by the fact that she was right every time.

Casey’s mouth turned down. “Your hand hasn’t got any wrinkly bits. Your voice isn’t old.” She moved back, severing the fragile connection they’d been making.

Lesson number two: don’t underestimate her because she can’t see.

“Why were you fighting with Mummy?”

The way she put it wasn’t a question; she was stating a fact and demanding answers. No, Casey wasn’t a child to underestimate.

Sam jumped in before he could answer the child. “Casey—” she ordered in a no-nonsense, go-to-bed tone.

Brett frowned, surprising himself by siding with Casey. “She deserves to know, Sam.”

Sam glared at him. “She’s only five! She doesn’t need to—”

“She’s part of us,” he said, again surprising himself, and turned back to Casey. “I sort of startled Mummy. She wasn’t expecting me to come here. She thought I was still far away.”

“You were yelling at her,” Casey pointed out. “Don’t you like Mummy?”

He twisted around, looking at his wife with a serious, intent expression. “Yes, Casey, I like your mummy. I always have, from the moment I met her.”

He could see the rosy outline of Sam’s cheek as she turned away. But the denial implicit in her stiff back slammed into his gut—then he saw that she was shaking. This night, this reunion, was taking a higher toll on Sam than he’d believed it could.

And behind his wife’s turned back, on the sideboard, he saw it. A series of framed photos: a picture of them on their first date, holding hands and smiling, taken by a roving photographer; their engagement celebration, done at a professional studio, him seated, with Sam’s arms wrapped around him from behind; and their favourite wedding shot, a candid one taken by a friend, where Sam had tripped over something—he couldn’t remember what—and he’d grabbed her around the waist to steady her. Both of them were laughing with the joy of the day, her veil billowing around them like a benediction.

So she hadn’t forgotten. If there was a man in her life, she’d have put the visible reminders of her past in a drawer, where they belonged.

“So why were you talking cranky?”

Brett dragged his attention back to his daughter. All he wanted right now was to take Sam into his arms, to comfort and love her. But he wouldn’t even get to his feet without making a total fool of himself; reaching the floor for Casey had taken all the strength he’d had for now.