For Their Child's Sake

“Can we go get Daisy now? I miss her.”

Well, that was going to be a problem.

Sam smoothed her long dark hair from her face. His little girl was going to be a stunner when she grew up—just like her mother.

“Your mom and I will talk in a bit. Why don’t you rest here on the sofa without the television?”

When her lip came out and she attempted those puppy-dog eyes, Sam squeezed her close to his chest. “Nice try, but you are recovering and rest is important. Your mom and I will be here, but we have things to discuss so we’ll stay in the kitchen.”

Marley eased back, her big blue eyes locked onto his. “Is something wrong, Dad? You and Mom seem weird.”

Marley had always been smart and mature for her age, something he’d always been so proud of. “We’re worried about you. We want you to feel better and make sure you don’t fall off the playground equipment again.”

Her brows drew in. “I don’t remember falling.”

Of course she didn’t. While they weren’t telling her the events of the past year, they had discussed how she’d gotten the knot and the headache.

“That may be best,” he told her. “But why don’t you rest. Okay? Maybe we can go to the park later.”

“After we pick up Daisy.”

Something came over her face as she glanced to the front door, then to Sam. Her brows drew in and her chin quivered.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, patting her gently.

“Daisy,” she murmured as tears filled her eyes.

Sam’s heart clenched.

“She isn’t coming back, is she?”

He wanted to lie and tell her Daisy was fine, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie now that she had figured it out. “She’s not. I’m sorry, baby.”

Marley flung her arms around his neck, and warm tears landed on his bare skin as he comforted her with a strong hug. He held tight, letting her deal with her emotions however she needed to.

“I don’t know what happened to her.” Marley’s tearful, muffled voice came from the crook of his neck. “I just remembered a flash of her going to the back door, but the door was stuck and I had to take her out the front, but she ran off without me.”

Another layer of guilt because Sam had been supposed to fix that door. There was a spot on their rear porch where they’d hooked Daisy so she could walk into the side yard and onto the porch and to her bed near the porch swing. But the door had been stuck that day and Sam hadn’t gotten it fixed... Instead, he’d gone and gotten his own fix.

Marley had let Daisy out the front door, but the gate hadn’t been closed and the dog had chased a cat and been hit by a car.

Sam recalled that same back door was the one he’d nearly ripped off the hinges the day he’d left. A few days after Tara had kicked him out, he’d been sober enough to come by and fix it while he knew she’d be at work.

He’d sanded it down and repaired it, but it was still the same door. It didn’t stick anymore, but he still hated that damn thing and he hated even more that his innocent daughter was sobbing in his arms yet again over the loss of her beloved pet.

“We’ll get a new dog,” he promised her. He probably should discuss this with Tara, but right now, Sam would promise Marley anything to get her to stop crying. “You really need to rest and we can talk about Daisy later. But you’ve had enough trauma for one day.”

Marley eased back and sniffed as she nodded. “My next dog will have to be named Daisy.”

Sam smiled as he framed her delicate face and swiped her tears away. “Name her anything you want.”

He said nothing more as she slid off his lap. Marley made her way to the couch and cozied up into a ball before Sam slipped from the room. He hoped she could rest and not lie there and cry, but he would be checking in on her shortly to make sure.

Sam eased the pocket doors shut to help drown out some of the noise. They were one of the things he loved about this old cottage they’d lived in. The charm of this home they’d found together, combined with the stylish way Tara always kept each room decorated, always made Sam feel like this was a sanctuary—their sanctuary.