Page 28 of Heather's Truth

“What did you do when your dad died?”

She stopped short, trying to put the question into some familiar context. “Pardon me?”

“Your happy thought theory. Is that another Morris family tradition? How did your family apply it when you lost your dad?”

“Oh. It’s not tradition per se, though we have plenty of those.” It seemed like a positive sign that he recognized the ongoing and significant influence of her super-sized family. “Basically, the happy thought idea is my grandmother’s core philosophy.”

“Okay.” He rolled his hand, urging her to continue. “So what did you do?”

Personally, she’d wandered. Deep inside her head, embracing solitude and quiet in every moment. She might still be wandering in that strange fog if J.C. and her grandmother hadn’t found ways to keep her engaged with life in the present. “If Grandma’s philosophy was holding happy thoughts dear, Dad’s core philosophy was all about smiles. He claimed they were contagious.”

“Like yawns.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You need a mental tune up.”

“Not today. Go on.”

“When Dad’s cancer hit stage four, he helped us plan a trip to Walt Disney World and made us promise we would go after his memorial services so we would always have something to smile about.”

“What?”

“It sounds bizarre, I know.” She reached down and picked up a sturdy stick, breaking off the twigs and showing it to Daisy.

“Why didn’t all of you go when he was alive?”

“We did,” she said, smiling at the memories. “Ready?” she asked the dog.

Daisy’s backside wriggled, and then she was off like a shot when Heather threw the stick out in front of them.

“When I was seven. My oldest sister tried to get out of it, but even she had a good time once we were there.”

He scowled as Daisy came tearing back, the stick firmly in her mouth.

“I know it must sound like a waste, but it really was the best thing for all of us.” Heather bent and praised Daisy and threw the stick again. “It gave us time to grieve away from the malaise of home care and hospice. It gave us a chance to relax and remember all the good times we had as a family.”

“I guess that makes a little sense.”

“Haven’t you ever lost anyone close to you?”

This time Daisy returned at a gallop, skidding to a stop in front of Dale and offering the stick.

“She likes you.”

“You said she likes everyone.”

“Well, yeah. But she clearly trusts you. She’s doing what she can to stay close to you.”

“Then she’s destined to be disappointed.”

With a valiant effort, Heather kept her thoughts to herself. She didn’t find Dale disappointing in the slightest. He held himself to a stern and aloof standard, but he had a mile-wide streak of compassion hidden under all that stoicism. The right dog would be more than content at Dale’s house, but she knew better than to nag a person into adopting. If the bond was weak, the dog would be returned just as soon as circumstances changed.

As an FBI Special Agent with an undercover fiancée, Dale Nichols’s circumstances were guaranteed to change.

They’d reached the shelter and Daisy sat down at Dale’s heel.

“Can we at least get her cleaned up before we go?” She wasn’t ready to plop Daisy back in a kennel and hope for the best.

“Heather…”