Remember When

and the dog's manic reaction, Max imagined the byplay was part of the morning ritual. He liked hearing the dog gallop up and down the steps, while Laine's laugh rolled.
    He grinned all the way into the shower.
    Downstairs, with Henry bouncing on all four legs, Laine unlocked the mudroom door. Per routine, she unlocked the outside door so Henry could fly through rather than wiggle through his doggie door, and so she could take a deep breath of morning air.
    She admired her spring bulbs, bent down to sniff the hyacinths she'd planted in purples and pinks.
    Arms crossed, she stood and watched Henry make his morning circuit, lifting his leg on every tree in the near backyard. Eventually, he'd take a run into the woods, she knew, to see if he could scare up a few squirrels, flush some deer. But that little adventure would wait until he'd scrupulously marked his perimeter.
    She listened to the birds chirp, and the bubble of her busy little stream. She was still warm from Max, still warm for him, and wondered how anyone could have a single worry on such a perfect and peaceful morning.
    She stepped back in, closed the outside door. And was starting to hum when she walked back into the kitchen.
    He stepped from behind the door and shot her heart into her throat. She was opening her mouth to scream when he laid a warning finger to his lips and had the sound sliding away.

10
    It knocked the breath out of her so she stumbled back a step, hit the wall while her hand groped at her throat as if to decide whether to push the scream out or block it.
    While he stood grinning at her, his finger still tapping on his lips, she sucked in a wheeze of breath and let it out with a single explosive whisper.
    "Dad!"
    "Surprise, Lainie." He whipped his hand from behind his back and held out a drooping clutch of spring violets. "How's my sweet baby girl?"
    "Poleaxed" was a word Max had used. She now understood it perfectly. "What are you doing here? How did you-" She stopped herself before asking him how he'd gotten in. Ridiculous question seeing as lifting locks was one of his favorite pastimes. "Oh, Dad, what have you done?"
    "Now, is that any way to greet your dear old dad after all this time?" He opened his arms wide.
    "Don't I get a hug?"
    There was a twinkle in his eyes, eyes as blue as her own. His hair-his pride and joy-was stoplight red and combed into a luxurious mane around his wide, cheerful face. Freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks like ginger shaken on cream.
    He wore a buffalo check flannel shirt in black and red, and jeans, both of which she imagined he'd selected as a nod to the area, and both of which appeared to have been slept in. The boots he'd paired with them looked painfully new.
    He cocked his head and gave her a dreamy, puppy-dog smile.
    Her heart had no defense against it. She leaped into his arms, locking herself around him as he squeezed tight and spun into a few giddy circles.
    "That's my girl. That's my baby. My Princess Lainie of Haraland."
    With her feet still a foot off the floor, she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm not six anymore, Dad. Or eight, or ten."
    "Still my girl, aren't you?"
    He smelled like cinnamon sticks and had the build of a Yukon grizzly. "Yes, I guess I still am."
    She eased back, giving his shoulders a little nudge so he'd set her down. "How did you get here?"
    "Trains, planes and automobiles. With the last of it on my own two feet. It's a place you've got here, sweetie pie. Scenic. But did you notice, it's in the woods?"
    It made her smile. "No kidding? Good thing I like the woods."
    "Must get that from your mother. How is she?"
    "She's great." Laine didn't know why it always made her feel guilty when he asked, without rancor, with sincere interest. "How long have you been here?"
    "Just got in last night. Since I arrived at your woodland paradise late, figured you to be in dreamland, I let myself in. Bunked on your couch, which I should tell you is in sorry shape." He pressed a hand to his lower back. "Be a lamb, sweetie, and make your daddy some coffee."
    "I was just about..." She trailed off as the reminder of coffee cleared her head. Max! "I'm not alone." Panic trickled her throat. "There's someone upstairs in the shower."
    "I gathered that from the car in your drive, the fancy piece with New York plates." He chucked her under the chin. "You're going to tell me, I hope, that you had a slumber party with an out-of-town girlfriend."
    "I'm twenty-eight. I graduated from slumber