college fund. He didn’t want to dip into it, but it was there if needed.
But what about the injection after that and the one after that?
Travis shoved the worry aside. He’d cross those bridges when he came to them. For now, he was enjoying the fact that his daughter was well enough to ride in the open-air float on a cool day without a hint of breathing trouble.
Jazzy’s blue eyes were unusually bright. She was dressed like Isabella from
The Magic Christmas Cookie
—pigtails, pink pinafore, blue gingham apron. His Aunt Raylene had made the outfit after
Jazzy fell in love with the book. Over the top of her costume, she wore a pink and blue car coat with a puffy hood. In her hands, she clutched her well-worn Isabella doll, and her cheeks were flushed bright pink.
Excitement? That was okay, but what if she had a fever? He reached over to splay his palm over her forehead.
Jazzy drew back and looked irritated. “I’m okay, Daddy.”
“Just checking.” He smiled.
“Father Christmas.” Belinda Murphey was in charge of getting everyone onto the floats in time for the parade. She had a clipboard in her hands, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, and a whistle around her neck. “You and Jazzy can go right on up.”
Travis bent down to pick up Jazzy, but she tossed her head. “I can walk. I’m too big for you to carry around.”
Not really, but okay, maybe he was being overly protective. It was difficult finding a balance between being watchful and letting her do as much as she could by herself, giving her the room to be like other kids. “Sure you can, honey.”
She started up the steps and he put a hand to her back. “Daddy …” she warned.
“Sorry, sorry.” He forced himself to put his arm down.
Jazzy made her way to the sleigh centered in the middle of the float and climbed aboard with mincing, ladylike steps. Every time he looked at her his heart ached a little. He loved her so damn much, the intensity of it cut sharp as a knife. Before he’dhad a kid, he hadn’t known this kind of love existed. He still couldn’t understand how Crystal could walk out on her.
His daughter settled into the seat, spread out her skirt all around her, and then beamed over at him. “You can come up now, Daddy.”
He climbed the steps in his Father Christmas costume. In spite of the itchy beard, he loved this, being here with his daughter, playing Santa Claus. It made him feel lighthearted again. Something he hadn’t felt since Jazzy had gotten sick.
Once upon a time, he’d been the original good-time Charlie. Living only for himself, seeking adventure in all the wrong places, burying his sorrow over his mother’s death the only way he knew how—by partying hard.
But one tiny little girl had changed all that.
It was a miracle really, the new medication Dr. Adams had given Jazzy off-label. How the hell had he gotten so lucky to have such a wonderful daughter, a loving community, and an open-minded doctor? He swallowed past the lump in his throat.
Dammit, Walker, don’t go getting all sentimental.
He sat beside Jazzy. “Can I put you on my lap or are you too big for that too?”
She gave it some thought and finally nodded. “That would be okay.”
He tucked her into the crook of his arm, felt the thrumming of her little heart through her clothes. Was it beating too fast? He took a quick peek at her lips. Nice and pink. Whew.
Travis forced himself to relax and mentally gear up for the Father Christmas gig. After the parade,he’d be inundated with short stacks begging to sit on his lap and recite their wish lists. But he loved that kind of thing and children swarmed him like bees, making
him
feel like a kid again.
He glanced around at the other floats, saw a black Lincoln Town Car turn into the entrance and pull to a stop beside the rest of the cars parked inside the stadium. The driver got out and opened the back door. A willowy woman of medium height unfolded herself from the
But what about the injection after that and the one after that?
Travis shoved the worry aside. He’d cross those bridges when he came to them. For now, he was enjoying the fact that his daughter was well enough to ride in the open-air float on a cool day without a hint of breathing trouble.
Jazzy’s blue eyes were unusually bright. She was dressed like Isabella from
The Magic Christmas Cookie
—pigtails, pink pinafore, blue gingham apron. His Aunt Raylene had made the outfit after
Jazzy fell in love with the book. Over the top of her costume, she wore a pink and blue car coat with a puffy hood. In her hands, she clutched her well-worn Isabella doll, and her cheeks were flushed bright pink.
Excitement? That was okay, but what if she had a fever? He reached over to splay his palm over her forehead.
Jazzy drew back and looked irritated. “I’m okay, Daddy.”
“Just checking.” He smiled.
“Father Christmas.” Belinda Murphey was in charge of getting everyone onto the floats in time for the parade. She had a clipboard in her hands, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, and a whistle around her neck. “You and Jazzy can go right on up.”
Travis bent down to pick up Jazzy, but she tossed her head. “I can walk. I’m too big for you to carry around.”
Not really, but okay, maybe he was being overly protective. It was difficult finding a balance between being watchful and letting her do as much as she could by herself, giving her the room to be like other kids. “Sure you can, honey.”
She started up the steps and he put a hand to her back. “Daddy …” she warned.
“Sorry, sorry.” He forced himself to put his arm down.
Jazzy made her way to the sleigh centered in the middle of the float and climbed aboard with mincing, ladylike steps. Every time he looked at her his heart ached a little. He loved her so damn much, the intensity of it cut sharp as a knife. Before he’dhad a kid, he hadn’t known this kind of love existed. He still couldn’t understand how Crystal could walk out on her.
His daughter settled into the seat, spread out her skirt all around her, and then beamed over at him. “You can come up now, Daddy.”
He climbed the steps in his Father Christmas costume. In spite of the itchy beard, he loved this, being here with his daughter, playing Santa Claus. It made him feel lighthearted again. Something he hadn’t felt since Jazzy had gotten sick.
Once upon a time, he’d been the original good-time Charlie. Living only for himself, seeking adventure in all the wrong places, burying his sorrow over his mother’s death the only way he knew how—by partying hard.
But one tiny little girl had changed all that.
It was a miracle really, the new medication Dr. Adams had given Jazzy off-label. How the hell had he gotten so lucky to have such a wonderful daughter, a loving community, and an open-minded doctor? He swallowed past the lump in his throat.
Dammit, Walker, don’t go getting all sentimental.
He sat beside Jazzy. “Can I put you on my lap or are you too big for that too?”
She gave it some thought and finally nodded. “That would be okay.”
He tucked her into the crook of his arm, felt the thrumming of her little heart through her clothes. Was it beating too fast? He took a quick peek at her lips. Nice and pink. Whew.
Travis forced himself to relax and mentally gear up for the Father Christmas gig. After the parade,he’d be inundated with short stacks begging to sit on his lap and recite their wish lists. But he loved that kind of thing and children swarmed him like bees, making
him
feel like a kid again.
He glanced around at the other floats, saw a black Lincoln Town Car turn into the entrance and pull to a stop beside the rest of the cars parked inside the stadium. The driver got out and opened the back door. A willowy woman of medium height unfolded herself from the
Similar Books
