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I never wanted to be a father. Hell’s bells, I never even thought about being a father. By the time I’d reached a point in my life that I would’ve felt mature enough to handle raising a child, I’d started a vampire-wizard war, been nearly killed by necromancers several times over, hosted a Fallen angel in my head who did her best to corrupt me, and condemned my girlfriend to the half-life of the undead.
Yet despite all that, despite everything I’d suffered, all the monsters that even now wanted me dead, I would’ve given anything, anything to not have missed out on the first eight years of my daughter’s life. Been there when she was born. Heard her first cry, her first laugh, her first word. Those were years I’d never get back.
I’d killed her mother to save Maggie. The guilt at times was overwhelming, even two years later, and not just because of my role in her death. I was still so damn angry at Susan for hiding the fact she’d been pregnant, had a child, and had hidden her from me. I understood the why of it; perhaps Susan hadn’t been entirely wrong considering how many times my life had been threatened. But that didn’t stop me from clenching my jaw every time the thought occurred to me. Of course, anger only led to more guilt. What right did I have to be angry at the woman who’d loved Maggie enough to sacrifice her own life?
Now, as I watched our daughter descend the stairs, I let love sweep anger and guilt away. She had straight black hair and dark eyes just like her mother. And though her skin was a paler shade, at times she looked so much like Susan that it was hard to breathe. Of me I only saw vague hints in the shape of her chin, the stubborn set of her jaw.
“You ready to go punkin?” I asked. She was carrying a small pink backpack containing a change of clothes. This would be the first time she’d spent the night at my apartment, and I was terrified. What if she didn’t like it? What if she didn’t like me? What if she decided she’d rather stay with the Carpenters? I desperately wanted her to come live with me, but I wouldn’t take the choice away from her.
It would be her decision.
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. Mouse took that moment to barrel down the stairs and into my legs, nearly knocking me over in his enthusiasm. “Mouse is ready, too.” His tail whipped against my shin.
“Then we’re off!” I took the backpack from Maggie’s tiny hands and turned to Michael. “We’ll be back after breakfast.”
He smiled at me. “No rush, Harry. Enjoy time with your daughter.” He waited until Mouse led Maggie outside, then put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry so much, Harry. She loves you, and you are her dad after all. Everything shall work out as God wills, you’ll see.”
Michael didn’t speak to God. At least, I didn’t think he did, not directly. But he did have angels watching over him and his family, including the archangel Uriel. And he was a true believer.
“Wish I had the faith in me that you do.”
He chuckled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Maggie was waiting outside my car, the one I affectionately called the Munstermobile, a 1940s-era hearse painted in shades of dark blue and purple, with flames on the hood and fenders. Will said it looked like something out of “Pimp My Ride,” and once he explained what the show was about, I agreed with him.
“We’re taking Michael’s truck today, punkin,” I said, opening up the passenger side door and the smaller rear door. Mouse bounded over and jumped into the back seat of the truck, tongue lolling. Maggie approached at a slower pace.
“Why?”
“Because I have a surprise for you. We’re gonna go see a drive-in movie, and I thought it’d be more fun to sit in the back where we have room to stretch out.” Michael had, at my request, stuffed the back seat with several sleeping bags I could unroll for padding, along with a blanket and pillows.
Maggie’s eyes widened. “Really? A real movie?”
“A real movie. With popcorn and sodas and everything.” Maggie had a difficult time around new people, and I thought this would be an excellent compromise. We’d be able to watch a movie with others, but still have our own space. Plus, technology and I didn’t get along. When I’ve tried to watch movies in theaters, much of the time the projector broke down, sometimes in new and fascinating ways.
I didn’t know a digital print could actually melt. Go figure.
At a drive-in, I could park the car far enough away that it wasn’t (usually) an issue.
“I’d like that,” Maggie said. “What are we going to see?”
I grinned. “Just one of the all-time greatest movies ever. The Empire Strikes Back.”
Her face fell. “Oh. I’ve already seen that.”
“Not on a gigantic screen sitting in the back of a truck under the stars with your dad, you haven’t.”
She smiled shyly. “No, I haven’t.”
“Then hop in. I have the whole day planned. First stop, bookstore.” I helped Maggie into the truck, which was too tall for her to reach the bar above the door in order to pull herself in.
“Bookstore?”
“I need to replace the books I lost in the fire, and thought maybe you’d like to pick out a few for yourself.” I started the engine. “You do like reading, right?” I was teasing; I knew she did.
“More than anything,” she declared, then looked back at Mouse when he woofed softly. “Well, almost more than anything. I like spending time with you more than reading.”
My heart melted, just a little. “Me too, punkin. Me, too.”
*
When I wanted books on the occult, magic, or magical beings, I went to Bock Ordered Books. Or… at least I used to, before Bock deemed me too much of a threat to his store and asked, very politely, that I never return. I hadn’t been back in years, and thinking of the loss still hurt.
But today we were heading to a store with best sellers and decades-old classics, science fiction and horror, to buy a few books for fun. Trade-N-Books in Oak Park sold mostly used paperbacks and accepted trade-ins for store credit.
I missed my book collection, lost when my apartment building burned to the ground. Now that I was staying at Molly’s apartment, I had enough space to begin a new collection, but until now hadn’t had the time since I’d been mostly dead for much of it.
I parked and let Mouse out, then took the bright orange vest from the front seat. He sat patiently as I put it on him, marking him as a service animal so that wherever Maggie went, he could as well. He helped with Maggie’s social anxiety, providing a steady, solid presence at her side. Plus, I trusted him with Maggie’s life; he would defend her to the death should it be necessary.
With my enemies, that was always a risk.
Maggie managed to exit the truck, sliding off the seat, and slammed the door closed. Her fingers twined Mouse’s fur as I held the bookstore’s door open for them both.
“Hey, you can’t bring that dog in here!” a man yelled from behind the counter, stepping around it to glare at Mouse. Maggie jumped, using Mouse as a shield to hide behind while the dog bared his teeth in a growl. Mouse is a temple dog, and his growl is pretty impressive. As are his teeth.
The man took a step back, suddenly unsure, eyes darting up to me.
What he saw there had him stumbling backwards in a panic. “I-I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered, hands held out in surrender.
He had scared Maggie. He had scared my daughter. Rage hazed the world in red. I didn’t have a mirror to practice my expression in front of, but I’d seen the results of it often enough. The man was now thoroughly terrified, and the Winter Mantle exulted in his fear. It wanted to make him pay for his transgression, was howling for his blood even as mine pounded a drumbeat in my ears.
“Daddy?” The tremor I heard immediately made me want to start throwing punches, beating to a pulp whoever had put that fear into my daughter’s voice. I looked down at Maggie to find the source of her distress, and found her gazing up at me. That wasn’t fear of someone in her wide eyes; that was fear for someone.
Me. My daughter was afraid for me, and of what I would do next, because I’d have cause to regret it later. She’d picked up a few lessons from Michael on the nature of guilt, and that actions have consequences. It was then I felt her small fingers wrapped around my much larger ones. She clutched my burned hand, and while I didn’t have much sensation in it, her touch I felt easily.
Hell’s bells, Harry. You almost beat up a man whose only crime was trying to do his job, in front of your ten-year-old daughter. Is this the example you want to set for her? That violence is always the first choice for any response?
Yes, the Mantle whispered. Violence is faster. Easier. Violence commands respect. Violence begets fear. And both violence and fear are what the Mantle thrived on. He should be afraid. He deserves punishment for his crime.
I closed my eyes and let out a long, slow breath. Only after I’d firmly wrestled power away from the Mantle did I speak.
“He’s a service animal. I thought the bright orange vest and words ‘Service Animal’ on the side were enough of an indication, but apparently not,” I snapped. Perhaps I wasn’t as calm as I had hoped.
“I didn’t see the vest,” the man replied in a near-whisper. “P-please, don’t hurt me.”
“Just… pay more attention next time.” As if there will be a next time. “Come on,” I told Maggie, leading her and Mouse further into the store. She kept her grip on my hand, the other buried in Mouse’s fur.
“Was he mad at me?” she finally asked when we could no longer see the front counter.
I crouched next to her, swallowing the residual anger. “Not at all, punkin. He just thought Mouse was going to misbehave.”
“Mouse wouldn’t do that.” Mouse smiled, tongue lolling.
“I know that, and you know that, but some people aren’t as smart as we are.” I forced a smile, which she tentatively returned. “How about we go look at some books?”
“Okay.”
I’d been to the store often enough that I knew the layout, and made my way back to the children’s room. It was a separate alcove with saloon-style double doors that made it seem much more private. “You be all right here by yourself?”
She walked in, looking at the artwork on the walls. Mostly they were covers of classic books, ones like Charlotte’s Web and The Secret Garden. “Sure.”
“I won’t be far, if you finish before I do just come find me.” She nodded absently, pulling a book from the shelf.
I wandered over to the horror section first. Mostly I was a repeat reader. Books I enjoyed I would reread as the mood struck me, and those were the ones I missed most. Today I was hoping to find a few Stephen King books, Pet Sematary and Misery in particular. Pet Sematary would probably hit differently now that I was a parent, and I was curious to find out how my sympathy towards Dr. Louis Creed had changed. There were a few sci-fi and fantasy books on my list as well, including some set in the Star Wars universe I’d grown up reading back before there were prequel movies.
I drifted from genre to genre, the stack in my hands growing large enough that I had to grab a basket from the end of an aisle, conveniently provided for people like me who had trouble with limits. I could feel the cashier’s gaze on me from time to time, but he remained up front. He also, thankfully, hadn’t called the police.
Will and Georgia had been talking non-stop about The Expanse, a sci-fi show that, being a wizard, I couldn’t actually watch. It was based on a series of books, and their gushing praise convinced me to give them a try. I think what finally decided me was that half of the first book was about a detective trying to track down a missing girl.
A man after my own heart.
There were no used copies of Leviathan Wakes, so I moved to the shelves at the front of the store reserved for new releases. Because of the popularity of the TV series, the books were prominently displayed. I dropped one into my basket, then turned back to the man I’d badly frightened, trying for a smile. Or at least tried to look less threatening, which at my height isn’t easy.
“Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I’ve had a rough couple of months, and haven’t had a lot of time with my daughter. I overreacted, and I apologize.”
His shoulder relaxed a fraction, though he didn’t smile. “It’s all right.” He said the words, but didn’t really mean them. I mentally sighed, hoping I hadn’t burned this bridge for good, then headed back to look for Maggie. She wasn’t where I’d left her; instead, she’d migrated to a section titled “Young Adult.”
Maggie’s only ten. Is she already considered a young adult?
I shivered involuntarily, feeling time slipping away from us.
“Find anything good?” I asked.
She turned around, holding three books carefully stacked between her outstretched arms. “Can I get these?”
I picked up the top book, The Hunger Games, with a frown. Didn’t a large part of the story feature kids killing kids? Was that really appropriate for someone my daughter’s age? Then I looked down at her, at her worried expression as she bit her lip, wondering again if she’d done something wrong. She’d lived through an experience that still gave me nightmares, and she’d only been eight.
I should trust that Maggie knows what she feels comfortable reading.
I smiled as I stacked it back on top. “You can absolutely get those. Is that all you want? What about those?” I gestured to the books that took up most of a shelf labeled The Mortal Instruments. With that many, surely they had to be popular.
Maggie made a face. “That has boys in it. And kissing.” I was pretty sure The Hunger Games had both boys and kissing, but kept the thought to myself.
Then a lightning bolt of an idea hit, and I hurriedly walked back to the fantasy section, leaving Maggie to follow me. “Where is it, where…” I muttered to myself, finger moving along the spines. “Aha!” I pulled the book out and held it up to my daughter.
“The Princess Bride?” Maggie read, then narrowed her eyes. “Does that have kissing in it, too?”
I tried to control my grin. “It does, but you’ll love it. Trust me. It’ll be the new daddy-daughter book we read at night.” Before The Princess Bride had been turned into an amazing movie, it’d been an equally amazing book. “You can take it with you when I drop you off at the Carpenters.”
Maggie put her three books into my basket, then shook her head. “No.”
“No? You don’t want to read it with me?” Hurt squeezed my chest hard enough that I had trouble breathing; I tried to keep the pain from showing on my face.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, for once looking very much like the kid she was. “I want to leave the book with you so we can read it together when I live there, too.”
My throat closed up. “Oh,” was all I could manage, finally realizing what she was telling me. “Do you want to live with me?”
“Yes,” she replied, ducking her head shyly. “I was waiting for you to ask, but Molly says sometimes you have to force the issue.”
I bit back a laugh. That sounded like Molly, all right, and she wasn’t wrong. I’d let my fear think for me.
“Oh, honey.” I dropped to my knees and set the basket down. “Of course I want you to live with me. I just…” I let out a breath. “I didn’t know if you wanted that. I… I’m kind of new to being a dad, and, well… I don’t want to say the wrong thing. Or do the wrong thing.” Mostly, I didn’t want to scare her, or force her into situations she felt uncomfortable with. My life had never been easy, and had only become more dangerous now that I was the Winter Knight. But Molly’s apartment was safer than most any other place on the planet, save the one I wanted to take her from.
She threw herself into my arms. “Please, Daddy, I want to live with you. Please.”
It was the ‘Daddy’ that did me in, and I blinked back tears before she could see them. “You got it,” I said, squeezing hard. “We’ll talk to Michael in the morning.”
*
Being a wizard, I had allies of a non-human nature. I also had a lot of enemies. If Maggie was coming to live with me, she’d need to know about both, but I wanted to start the conversation off with a friendly face. To that end, I drove us to Columbus Park, an expanse of green space not far from the bookstore.
Summer in Chicago is hot and muggy, and today was no exception. I sweated as I walked, Maggie and Mouse dutifully following me into the trees, to a bench that sat in the shade near the lagoon. Mouse laid down on the grass at our feet with a huff.
“You know that I work for the Winter Queen,” I began, and waited until Maggie nodded. “That means I have enemies, ones that want to hurt me. If you live with me, they’ll want to hurt you, too. While Molly’s apartment is pretty secure, it’s not perfect. That’s why I have allies to help watch for danger, and I’d like you to meet one of them. But first, you have to cover your ears.”
Maggie, though she gave me a wary look, did so without asking a single question. Mouse just tilted his head as he looked up at me.
“Yeah, I know. Try not to listen, okay?” He woofed softly. I turned my face away and muttered under my breath, hoping it wouldn’t take long for him to show up. I hated having to speak his true name around others, though Mouse wouldn’t be able to use it for summoning.
Maybe.
My dog had managed to surprise me more than once with the things he could do.
“Major General Toot-Toot reporting as ordered, Za Lord!” Toot-Toot declared, flying down from a branch above us. Maggie’s eyes went wide as she dropped her hands.
“Hey, Toot. Maggie, I’d like to introduce you to Toot-Toot. Toot, this is my daughter, Maggie.”
The faerie buzzed around her head twice, then settled on the bench between us. His puff of magenta hair didn't appear at all bothered by the humidity, and he looked very dashing in his black armor, a svartalf-made steel blade sheathed at his hip. He’d grown since I first met him, now nearly eighteen inches tall, which made him the Harry Dresden of the pixie world.
Toot-Toot gave my daughter a formal bow. “Lady Maggie, it is an honor to meet you.”
Maggie looked at me before answering, and I nodded. “Nice to meet you, too,” she said in a hesitant voice.
“How are the troops?” I asked him.
“We stand watch, as instructed,” he replied, then lowered his voice. “Though several have expressed concern about the pizza, since so many are on duty today. It has been difficult to keep morale at acceptable levels due to their lack of focus.” Which, being pixies, wasn’t surprising. They typically had an attention span of about twenty seconds.
“I’ll make sure to add four extra pizzas to tonight’s delivery. Will that do?”
Toot took off, flying in mad circles that made me too dizzy to follow. “It will do admirably!” he said, stopping in front of me to salute. I saluted back.
“Well, then. Carry on with your duties, Major General.”
“Yes, sir.” Then, faster than I could blink, Toot disappeared.
“Wow,” Maggie breathed. “That was a faerie?”
“Yep. Toot-Toot is a dew drop faerie, and on the grand scheme of things, isn’t very powerful. But he’s a perfect example of how having little power doesn’t make you weak. Wee Folk are plentiful, and get enough of them together, they can do incredible things.”
I hiked my leg under me so I could turn and face her completely. “Make no mistake, Maggie. Fae are not human, no matter that some look human, and it’s very dangerous to make the assumption that they are. Always be respectful, never show weakness, and never bargain. Not even with Toot-Toot.”
She nodded solemnly. “I’ll remember. Why did I have to cover my ears?”
“You can summon a fae if you know their true name. I used Toot’s to get his attention. It wasn’t a real summoning, because that would force him against his will. It was more like… calling him on the phone and hoping he’d pick up.”
I watched her for a minute as she bit her lip in concentration, a slight frown on her face. “Do you still want to come live with me?” I asked because I had to, not because I wanted her to change her mind. I felt confident that in the fortress guarded by Molly’s wards and svartalf guest laws she’d be safe enough.
But then again, that’s what I thought about my old apartment, and look how that turned out.
Maggie looked up at me, nodding decisively. “I want to be your daughter.”
I slid across the bench and held her tight. “Oh, honey. You will always be my daughter, no matter what. No matter where you are, or where I am.” Even if I’m dead, I’ll watch over you. I’d made sure of that.
“I want to live with you,” she said, almost a whisper.
“Then we will make it so,” I murmured, burying my face in her hair.
*
We had pizza for dinner. After my discussion with Toot, it seemed appropriate, nay inevitable even. The restaurant was a little more upscale than I’d normally choose, but that meant we were able to sit outside on the patio at a picnic table. It gave Maggie enough breathing room that she wasn’t overwhelmed by other diners. They even provided a bowl of water for Mouse.
“Do you like working for the Winter Queen?” Maggie asked. She’d been mostly silent as we ate, feeding Mouse pizza crusts under the table when she thought I wasn’t looking. It was hard not to notice, with Mouse’s tail thumping a constant rhythm against my leg.
“Um… no one’s ever asked me that.” I didn’t like Mab pulling my leash whenever it was convenient for her to do so. I hated that I was bound to her, and if I was to truly defy her, she would make of me an example for the next Winter Knight. Just as Slate had been mine.
But… everything she had asked me to do, in her oblique manner, was something I would have done on my own, if not in the way she wished. Maeve had been corrupted past the point of sanity, of saving. Nicodemus had lost a daughter, Lasciel her vessel and her coin, and four of the five relics in Hades’ vault were secured in Demonreach’s depths.
Helping Nicodemus resulted in Murphy being badly hurt; I was still furious about that, but asking Murph to go with me hadn’t been Mab’s choice, but mine.
I had no one but myself to blame.
And killing Slate had been a mercy.
“I guess,” I said slowly, turning it over in my mind, “that ‘like’ isn’t the right word. I have an obligation to perform the duties she asks of me, using the power she’s given me. I respect her, and she’s pretty scary most of the time, but the work she needs doing can’t be done by anyone but me.” As I spoke the words, I realized the truth in them. I chuckled. “I guess that doesn’t really answer your question, does it?”
“No, but it’s a good answer anyway.”
*
I pulled the truck into a spot near the back of the drive-in lot. It put us near the concession stand and restrooms, but more importantly, away from the projector.
Maggie helped move the sleeping bags from the back seat to the truck bed, and I climbed up to spread them out and prop two pillows against the back of the cab. I hopped out and lifted Maggie up to sit on the tailgate. Mouse jumped in behind her.
“Be right back with the popcorn. Mouse, you have the conn.” Mouse’s tail wagged as he woofed agreement.
I bought the largest tub of popcorn they had, making sure it was liberally drizzled with butter; no one likes dry popcorn. I bought two sodas. And I bought a box of black licorice, only because it reminded me of going to the movies with my dad. I didn’t remember much of my time with him, but I couldn’t forget sitting in the theater, sharing a box of black licorice.
I settled the popcorn between me and Maggie once I’d covered us with a blanket, leaning back against the pillows. The radio from inside the truck blared out through the open window above us, currently running ads for the concession stand. Judging by the sky, we only had a few more minutes to wait.
I held out a licorice stick and Maggie made a face. “What is it?”
“Black licorice. When I was little, younger than you are now, my dad - your grandfather - would take me to the theater sometimes. I only remember bits and pieces of the movies we saw, but I’ll never forget sharing licorice with him.” I gave her a sad smile. “I wish he’d lived long enough to meet you. He would’ve loved you.”
Maggie took the licorice, sniffed it, then tried a bite.
I laughed at her expression. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it. Not everyone does. It has a pretty strong flavor.”
She swallowed down the candy. “It’s not bad, just different. I can eat it. It’s a family tradition, right?”
I blinked back tears. “You’re right, it is.” And somewhere, I hoped my father was smiling.
*
When the movie finished and the credits began to roll, I leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “So what’d you think, kiddo?” Maggie sniffled, and every paternal instinct I owned went on high alert. “Maggie? What’s wrong?”
Who should I be killing right now? the Winter Mantle whispered.
She shook her head and wiped her eyes. “Nothing. It’s just a sad movie.”
I put an arm around her and pulled her close. “How so?”
“Because Luke gets hurt and Han is taken away in carbonite.”
I held up my burn-scarred hand. “Luke and I have something in common,” I said with a smile. “Though I was luckier because I still have my hand.”
“Does it hurt?” She touched her fingers to my hand gently, feeling the ridges of scar tissue.
“Not really. I can barely feel anything, actually.”
“What happened?” Maggie looked up at me with dark eyes.
“Your dad did something stupid. My bracelet creates a shield I can use to protect myself by deflecting things like bullets. Someone tried to use a flamethrower on me; the heat bled through and it burned my hand.” I turned it back and forth. It looked much better than it had originally; I’d even regained some dexterity in it thanks to Butters’ physical therapy plan. “I’m a little smarter now.”
Yeah, I’ve learned not to fight flamethrowers.
“As far as the movie goes, you’re right. It is a little sad. But it leaves room for hope, too. Luke and Leia aren’t dead. Neither is Han. They still have time to find and save him. While Luke’s hand is gone, he’s got a replacement that’s every bit as good as the original. And most importantly, they’ve got each other, because they’re family.”
Maggie put her small hand in mine. “Just like us.”
I closed my fingers around hers and squeezed. “Exactly like us.”
*
“You get the bed, kiddo. I’ll sleep on the couch.” She pulled back the blankets and climbed in, Mouse waiting until she was settled before jumping up to lay beside her. I knelt down and reached under the bed for the shoebox I kept there, then sat on the edge of the bed.
“I’d like you to meet someone.” I slowly pulled a wooden skull from the box. “This… is Bonea. I call her Bonnie. Bonnie, this is my daughter, Maggie.”
Maggie frowned, touching the intricately carved wood with careful fingers. “Bonnie?”
Bonnie’s tiny green eye lights flickered on and blinked. “Hello, Maggie.”
Maggie shrank back in alarm, her hand clutching Mouse’s fur. “What is she?”
“She’s a spirit of intellect. She’s super smart, but doesn’t have much in the way of people skills. That’s where you and I come in.”
Maggie looked at me warily. “We do?”
“We do,” I assured her. “Bonnie has an endless amount of questions, and it’s up to us to help her learn.”
“Why do you -“ Bonnie began, and I held up a hand.
“Questions tomorrow, Bonnie. Tonight is story time.” I set Bonnie down on the nightstand and picked up the book I’d bought earlier today. “The Princess Bride.” I showed her the cover, a princess with long blonde hair astride a horse.
“Is it a true story?” Bonnie asked.
“No, it’s just a fairy tale.” I probably shouldn’t have used the term ‘fairy’ knowing what I knew about the fae. “It’s not real.”
“Then why read it?”
“Because it’s fun to lose yourself in someone else’s imagination. Sometimes it makes you think of things you’d never think of on your own. Sometimes it makes you laugh, or cry. Sometimes, when you read the same book often enough, the characters feel like family. And just for a little while, it makes your own problems disappear.”
Bonnie frowned. Or at least that was the impression I got from her. “But your problems don’t actually disappear?”
“Nope.”
“Then why -“
“Bonnie,” I interrupted her. “How about we just read the story for a little while, okay?”
“Okay.”
Maggie put a hand up to her mouth, stifling a giggle. “Dad’s still learning how to do the voices properly, but he’s not so bad at it any more.”
I hope she never grows too old for this. I kissed the top of her head. “Thanks, punkin. Chapter One: The Bride.”
*
Michael was waiting for us on the porch the following morning, two large suitcases at his side.
“What’s this?” I asked, gesturing.
“Maggie’s moving in with you, isn’t she? I packed up her things.“
I didn’t know what to say.
Maggie didn’t have that problem. “Thank you, Mr. Carpenter.”
He knelt down, slowly, and hugged her. “You’re welcome, Maggie. Keep your dad out of trouble, okay? It seems to find him no matter where he goes.”
“I will,” she said softly.
It was just enough time for me to swallow the lump in my throat. “Thanks, Michael.”
He grinned, straightening his tall frame, and put a hand on my shoulder. “Told you, Harry. Everything works out as it should.”