by Grey, Sondra
“Terrified,” said the Wolf of Dundur.
“What are you terrified of?”
“Of being my father.”
“You won’t be.” Isla sat up, leaned over, and gave him a warm kiss on his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered.
Calum stared back at her. “I love you too,” he said. Staring down at his daughter, he looked bemused a moment. “They’re already talking about how big she is for being born almost eight weeks early.”
“It could be worse,” said Isla shrugging.
Calum smiled. “I suppose it could be.” He looked at her, catching Isla staring at their daughter’s head. “What are you thinking about?”
“About what kind of mother I’ll be. Will I be like mine?”
“If you are, would that be so bad?” asked Calum. “Look how you turned out.”
Isla frowned at him. “Then I will do my best to be nothing like my mother!”
Calum laughed, startling the baby to crying. “Give her to me,” Isla said, taking Deirdre from her father and rocking her gently until she quieted.
“We are who we are, Isla.”
“And who are we?” she asked, pressing her nose to her daughter’s head and inhaling the fresh scent of her hair.
“Lucky,” said Calum, as he stroked a hand over his wife’s fair head. “We’re lucky.”
The End
