Reid didn’t like her serious expression, but he smiled anyway. “What, kiddo?”
She scrunched up her eyes, reminding him of Diane, the sight putting an ache in Reid’s heart.
“You haven’t forgotten about Christmas, have you?” she asked.
“Now, why would you ask me that?”
She let out a long sigh. “We haven’t even decorated the tree, and there aren’t any presents under it yet.”
He rubbed his knuckles over her head and pulled her close. “Have I ever missed a Christmas?”
“No-o-o.”
He heard a “but” in her tone. A “but” telling him that he didn’t do holidays as well as her mother had. He tried his best but came up short every time. His mom helped, but nothing had been the same since Diane died.
“We’ll get the tree done soon. I promise.” He hugged her tight, hoping he could find the time in managing a thriving business and everyday life with a young child and dog to do all the extras she craved.
She looked at him, hope and expectation alive in her eyes. “And the presents?”
He didn’t want to disappoint her, but the conversation had gotten too heavy with memories of Diane. “NowthatI’ll have to think about.” He chuckled.
She eased out from under his arm and shot him a playful punch.
“You’re so mean,” she said but giggled.
He laughed along.
His phone vibrated. Hopefully Jack was calling back with more information on Fowler than the text Reid received a few minutes ago listing Fowler’s current address in Portland.
Reid dug the phone from his pocket and glanced at caller ID.Megan.
He’d left her vulnerable. Had something happened?
His pulse kicked up as he answered. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine. I was wondering if you could bring your dog to see Ella.”
“That’s it? You’re all right?” He let out a deep breath, drawing Jessie’s attention.
“Yes. Ella’s crying for Boo-Boo, and I thought maybe a visit with your dog would cheer her up.”
“We’re on our way.” He ended the call and turned to Jessie. “That was the mom I was talking to earlier. Sounds like her daughter needs a visit from Bandit.”
“Can I ask you something, Dad?” Jessie chewed on her lip.
He ruffled her hair to lighten the tense mood that his concern had likely created. “What is it, Bug?”
“You seem worried. Is this girl gonna die like Mom?”
Was she? He had no idea of Ella’s condition, but he shook his head anyway and urged Jessie forward.
They’d met many children in their visits. Most of them made it through their treatments, but some of them died. Jessie handled the losses like a trouper and seemed to grow stronger in her purpose each time. Just as her counselor predicted she would when she encouraged them to follow through on Jessie’s desire to train Bandit as a therapy dog.
Why couldn’t he do the same thing instead of letting a slice of his heart disappear with each death? He only wished he could focus his loss on something positive, as Jessie had. God kept telling him to do so. To get beyond himself and use his pain to help others, but he couldn’t manage it no matter how hard he tried. How much he prayed.
They reached Ella’s room, and he pushed open the door.
Megan sat on the edge of Ella’s bed, her lips pressed into a colorless line. He offered a reassuring smile, and she visibly relaxed as if she believed he could protect them. Surprisingly, the ache in his gut lessened too.
