Page 50 of Wishing Hearts

When Harrison steps back, he gestures toward me. “Uh, Mom, Dad, this is Sam. Sam, my mother, Cordelia Bailey. And my father, Frank Bailey.”

I stand up quickly, smile in place as I step toward Harrison’s parents. “Sammy Cox,” I say, holding out my hand. Harrison coughs harshly as I shake hands with his mom and then his dad.

I never did tell him my last name.

“Excuse me,” Harrison says, retreating for a glass of water.

Keeping my amusement to myself, I wave toward the table. “Y’all hungry? We made waffles, and there’s plenty extra.”

“There’s chocolate, too,” Winnie puts in, that very thing at the corner of her mouth. “Sam said chocolate goes with waffles. It’s a rule. That’s why Daddy let me have it for breakfast. I said we should have waffles every day, but Daddy doesn’t think that’s a good idea, even though eggs are boring.”

“Nutritious, though,” Cordelia puts in, a smile on her face as she takes a seat at the table. She redirects her attention to me. “We already ate, but thank you, Sammy.”

“What are you doing here?” Harrison asks. In a gentle way, not criticizing.

Frank sits next to his wife, whistling for Tigger and then scratching behind her ears as he talks. “Well, our plans with the Morgans fell through, so we figured we’d stop by and offer to hang out with our favorite granddaughter.”

I retake my seat as Winnie says, “Only granddaughter.”

Frank snorts. “Favorite and only granddaughter. You’ve been mentioning wanting to start that treehouse,” he says, aiming his gaze at Harrison. “We thought you could do that today, if you wanted.”

“Oh, can you?” Winnie asks her dad. “I wanna bring all my pillows and blankets outside. Tigger can come, too, although she’ll have to wait at the bottom, since she can’t climb ladders. And then we can watch the stars. Real ones. But not Janey. She’s not allowed in my tree fort.”

“I…” Harrison blinks a couple times, his gaze snapping to me quickly before he looks away. “I don’t know, Pumpkin. It’s going to take more than one day to finish, and I don’t have any of the supplies picked up.”

Frank shrugs, snagging a waffle from the table and eating it plain. “Need to start sometime.”

“I know, but…” Harrison doesn’t seem to know how to finish his sentence.

“I could help,” I cut in.

“I can’t ask you to do that, Sam,” he responds gently, sinking back into his seat at the end of the table. “You didn’t come over here to be roped into manual labor.”

“And, on that note,” Cordelia says, aiming for nonchalant, “why did Sammy come over here?”

“He and Daddy are friends,” Winnie says, book open on her lap now that her waffle is gone. She doesn’t look up from her reading. “This is his third time coming over. He and Daddy smile at each other a lot. I haven’t decided if me and Sam are going to be friends, too, but Sam said that’s okay. I might let him in my tree fort, though. Can I be excused?”

Cordelia and Frank share a look as Harrison shakes his head a little, eyes closing in an extended blink.

“Yeah, Pumpkin,” Harrison says. “Just wash up first. There’s chocolate on your cheek.”

Winnie jumps up and heads over to the sink. Wetting a washcloth, she wipes her face and then flees the room, book tucked under her arm. Tigger jumps up from beside Frank’s seat and takes off after her.

As Winnie’s footsteps stomp up the stairs, Harrison says, “We met in Plum Valley. We’re taking it slow.”

My heart thumps. I didn’t know if Harrison would want his parents to know about us, but here he is, stating things plainly. No excuses. No skirting the topic. Just the truth.

I reach over beneath the table, squeezing his leg.

“Is that so?” Frank says casually. The man’s hair is blonde, intermixed with gray, and his face is boxy. He doesn’t look much like Harrison apart from the eyes and hair color. “Spending the morning together doesn’t sound all that slow.”

Cordelia smacks her husband’s arm. “Frank,” she admonishes.

I’m guessing Harrison’s dad is where he gets his wry side.

“We’re taking it slow around Winnie,” Harrison clarifies, looking off toward the entrance to the kitchen. “It’s just…” His gaze settles on me, something apologetic there.

It’s not hard to guess what he was going to say. We’re new to each other, and Harrison wants to be cautious about telling his daughter we’re a couple. I get it, and it’s something we’ve already discussed.

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