Lost and Found Father. Sheri WhiteFeather

smother her with his daddy desperation.

      “It’s so good have you here,” he said.

      “It’s good to be here.”

      They separated, and he noticed that Victoria had gotten out of the car and was lingering off to the side. He suspected that she was staying in the background deliberately, giving him and Kaley a chance to get acquainted.

      The teenager glanced down at the dogs. “Look how adorable you two are.” She asked Ryan, “What are their names?”

      He smiled, grateful that animals were an icebreaker. “Perky and Pesky.”

      She laughed. “Let me guess. Perky is the black-and-white one with the bright expression, and Pesky is the chubby guy wiggling for attention.” Upon hearing his name, Pesky grinned, flashing his crooked teeth. Kaley laughed again.

      Ryan couldn’t take his eyes off his daughter. There she was, so grown up, standing right before him and wanting to be part of his life. He longed to hug her again. But he didn’t. He knew it would be weird to keep grabbing her.

      Victoria came forward, and she and Ryan exchanged a quiet greeting, a simple “Hi” in the presence of the child they’d created. Talk about surreal.

      Trying to act casual, he said to Victoria, “If you pop the trunk, I’ll get the bags.”

      “We can help, too,” Kaley said. “We brought a lot of stuff. We even bought some new outfits for the trip. But it was just an excuse for us to shop.”

      “Mall fever,” Victoria put in, making Kaley grin.

      Ryan didn’t mind that they’d over-packed. The more stuff they brought, the more of a vacation it seemed.

      Everyone pitched in with the bags. The women had an easy rapport with each other. He was definitely the odd man out, but he’d expected as much.

      While they headed for the porch, Pesky stayed close to Kaley. Ryan asked her, “Do you have pets?”

      “We have two cats. Dad calls them the bougainvillea babies because when they were kittens, they used to hide in the flowers on our patio. Sometimes Dad calls me a bougainvillea baby, too. He has all sorts of nicknames for me. He says I’m a daddy’s girl, like the cats. They’re girls, too.”

      Although Ryan smiled, he struggled with a twinge of envy. He knew that he shouldn’t react that way every time her adoptive father was mentioned. If anything, he should be thanking the other man for making her a daddy’s girl.

      He opened the door, and they went inside.

      Kaley glanced around. “Victoria told me how nice she thought this place was.” His daughter stepped farther into the living room, where a stone fireplace and woven rugs presided. “I really like it, too.”

      “Thanks. I bought it about three years ago.” He knew his house could use a woman’s touch, but he wasn’t about to say that. “It was built in the 1800s, but it’s obviously been renovated since then.” He chanced a daddy’s girl remark. “You can be a buttercup baby here. I put some in your room. I picked them in the woods.”

      “Buttercup baby. Oh, that’s cute.”

      Ryan appreciated her enthusiasm. It was just what he needed. In the silence, he glanced at Victoria, wondering what she was thinking. She was standing on the other side of him.

      He said to her, “I put some flowers in your room, too.”

      She adjusted the strap of her purse, which kept slipping off her shoulder. “You didn’t need to pick anything for me.”

      “I wanted to.”

      Before things got quiet again, Kaley said, “Can we see your backyard before we see our rooms?”

      “Sure.” They left the luggage where it was and headed to the kitchen, which led to the mudroom and back door.

      “It’s so green and pretty.” His daughter was impressed. “And check out the chickens.” She laughed and mimicked one of the hens clucking along in the coop. She glanced across the yard at the barn. “Do you have horses?”

      “Just one. An old grandpa who needed a home.”

      “Was he a rescue?”

      “In a way, I guess. He belonged to the people who sold me this place, but they couldn’t take him where they were going, so I agreed to keep him. He’s a draft horse, loyal as can be. I inherited a miniature cow, too. The chickens were also part of the deal.”

      “I never even knew there were miniature cows. Do you milk it?”

      “Yes. I can teach you sometime this week, if you’d like.”

      “Imagine that—me milking a little cow. That sounds fun.”

      He smiled, and they returned to the house and finished the indoor tour, where he took the women upstairs to their rooms.

      Victoria’s was first, a brightly lit space furnished with an oak-framed bed and matching dresser, where the flowers sat. He’d chosen spring beauties for her. The last of the summer blooms. He’d been tempted to add some wild ginger to the bouquet, but he’d refrained, concerned that it would be too blatant a reminder of their youth.

      “This is lovely,” she said and placed her bags in the corner. “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.” A beat of emotion passed between them, something they were obviously going to have to get used to.

      When they entered Kaley’s room, she beamed over her flowers. She opened her toiletries suitcase and searched around for a bobby pin so she could clip one of the buttercups in her hair.

      Once the yellow bloom was in place, she sat on the edge of the bed and asked Ryan, “Do you have any photos around, of your parents or grandparents or anyone? I’m interested in seeing them. Plus I’m starting a family tree, and when I did research about it online, they said to go through old pictures and documents. Victoria has been helping me with her side, and I was hoping you would help me with yours.”

      He hadn’t considered Kaley taking the interest in her roots quite that far, but Victoria warned him that their daughter was on an identity quest, so he should have been better prepared. “There’s a box in the attic with that kind of stuff in it. I can get it down tomorrow.”

      “That would be great. I also have some pictures to show you. I brought a photo album with me in it that my mom made when I was little. You can look through it tomorrow, too, if you want.”

      “Okay.” Still a bit overwhelmed, he marveled at Kaley’s easy manner. “Are you hungry? How does pizza sound for dinner tonight? We can order in.”

      She grinned. “I love pizza.”

      “So do I,” he replied, then addressed Victoria. “You always did, too. Unless your tastes have changed.”

      Her purse strap fell down again. “I still like it.”

      “Then that’s what we’ll get.”

      Once they decided on the toppings, Kaley stayed in her room to call her father, and Ryan and Victoria went downstairs to wait for the delivery.

      She occupied the leather chair in the living room, leaving him the sofa. She was making a habit of sitting apart from him.

      “I’m not much of a cook,” he said, struggling for conversation. The beat of emotion that passed between them earlier was getting stronger. “Mostly I fix easy things. Or eat out.”

      She glanced in the direction of the kitchen, as if she was trying to make their exchange seem more normal. “I don’t mind cooking while I’m here. It will give me something to do. But I brought work with me, too.”

      He forced an easy tone. “I’m taking the week off. My staff is, too. I gave them paid vacations, rather than keep the clinic open while you’re visiting. I want to spend