The thing was, she wasn’t the only one changed by all this, and I don’t know what possessed me – maybe fear or sheer desperation – but what I said next had her stopping in her tracks. “Yeah, well, tough shit, missy, because here it is.” I reached out and curled my fingers around her upper arms, making damn well certain she couldn’t escape me and then I looked her dead in the eyes and began to tell her a story. “I had a father too and I loved him very much. And one day, he and I got into it. We had a fight. A big one. I said some things to him that day, things I didn’t mean. Things I swore to take back the next morning after we’d both slept it off.” My throat tightened. “But I never got the chance because he died that night.” My fingers flexed and I struggled to say, “I will never get to apologize. I will never hug him again, or mess around with him, or roll my eyes at how lame he could be. And, God help me,” the brief laughter that left me hurt coming out, “he was lame.”

Ella stood there, still and listening to the tragic tale.

My grip softened on her. “Now, I’m stuck in a mental prison knowing that his last thoughts of me were in anger.” The bridge of my nose tingled and I blinked back tears. “So, don’t, sweet girl.” I left her go and reached out to stroke her hair. “Don’t say things you might never be able to take back. Because the way I live, knowing he was mad at me when he was k…” My lips trembled. I swallowed hard and finished up on a whisper, “It’s torture.”

Ella looked at me and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. We shared a moment. We were just two people who had lost a parent through tragic circumstances. Two people with a shared experience.

A line cast out from my heart and hooked onto hers.

There was a change in the air around us and I think, right then, we each understood each other a little better.

I stepped out of the way and placed a gentle hand to her shoulder. Chaotic tension swarmed both father and daughter, and when Ella made her decision and took off running at her dad, his tall frame was already up and out of his chair. She threw herself at him and his strong arms caught her, just as a father should. Ella’s thin arms curled around his neck and Tor was gentle with her, pressing his lips to her forehead, closing his eyes and rocking her back and forth.

My hand lifted and came to rest over my heart. Relief had me deflating.