Page 63 of Wishing Hearts

“All right,” I say slowly. “So, Harrison, what’s new at work?”

The man chuckles. “Have I told you about my coworkers yet?”

“A bit about Deb, but that’s it,” I reply.

He nods, chewing his food before speaking. “Right. So there’s this older guy that’s worked at the practice for a long time. His name’s Abbott Fry. We’ve all been waiting for him to retire, but… I don’t know. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if his job is all he has.”

I hum, pushing a bean closer to Winnie’s fork. “No family?”

“Not really,” Harrison replies. “No kids, at least. No spouse.”

“Pets?” I ask, grinning at Winnie when she reluctantly eats a green bean. “By the way, this pasta is great, Harrison.”

“Thanks, Sam,” he says with a warm smile. “And he did have a couple Irish Wolfhounds, believe it or not”—I whistle at that; they’re impressive dogs—“but they both passed of old age a few years back.”

“You think he’s lonely,” I surmise.

Harrison nods, blue eyes creased. “Yeah, I do. Some of my coworkers gripe about his attitude, but I think we’re all he has left. And, I guess, if the only people you have left are just waiting for you to go, wouldn’t you be a little grumpy, too?”

“Dang,” I mutter, pushing a piece of pasta around on my plate before shoving it in my mouth. I can understand exactly how Abbott must feel.

“Why doesn’t he have kids, Daddy?” Winnie asks.

Harrison gives his daughter a wan smile. “Not everybody wants to have children, Pumpkin. Or is ready for it.”

The end of his statement is said with weight, but I don’t have time to ponder it before Winnie is turning big blue eyes my way. Good grief, with the way she’s looking at me like a sad cartoon character come to life, I can tell exactly what’s on her mind.

“Winifred,” I say carefully. “Remember when I told you I hated kids?”

She nods, looking down at her plate.

“Well, that wasn’t the truth,” I tell her. “I was just teasin’.”

“I know that, Sam,” she says seriously, although she looks relieved to hear the words. “Does that mean…”

“What is it, li’l miss?”

“Does that mean you want kids?” she asks.

I give her a smile, my chest warmed with something scary and wonderful. “I do,” I tell her. “I’d love to be a dad someday.”

I don’t say more than that. Don’t dare push it. But Winnie nods, and when I chance a glance Harrison’s way, there’s a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Can we set our volcanoes off now?” Winnie asks, breaking the silence.

“All full?” he asks, looking at Winnie’s plate. Much to my, and seemingly Harrison’s, surprise, her beans are gone.

“Yep,” she says, scooting off her chair. “C’mon, Sam.”

With an amused huff, I pick up my plate and stand. Harrison and I clear the dishes before I carry the volcanoes back to the table. Winnie bounces the entire time, her enthusiasm infectious.

“Okay,” I say, rubbing my hands together. “So how do we do this?”

“Baking soda first,” Winnie says, grabbing the box Harrison already pulled out for us.

Winnie shows me how to pour some into the plastic cups built into the center of our volcanoes. I dump a little too much, but Winnie tells me it’s fine.

“Soap,” she says, making grabby hands Harrison’s way.

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