The receptionist gave me a practiced smile. “Can I help you?”
“This man is my husband. Which room is he in?”
She hesitated.
“Ma’am, I’m not supposed to—”
“Please, I need to know. He told me he was in Boston, but his car is right outside. Please… I have to know what’s going on.”
“Room 412,” she said and slid a keycard across the counter.
“But miss? Sometimes things aren’t what they seem.”
I hardly caught her final remarks as I dashed to the elevator.
Room 412. I didn’t knock… I simply swiped the keycard and burst in.
The words d.i.e.d in my throat.
There was Shawn, standing next to a wheelchair.
And in that wheelchair sat a man with silver-streaked hair and familiar eyes, which I hadn’t seen since I was five.
“DADDY?” The word came out as a whisper, a prayer, and a query I’d had for 26 years.
“ANDREA!” my father exclaimed, his voice trembling.
“My little girl.”
“How?” I turned to Shawn with tears flowing down my cheeks. “How did you…?”
“I’ve been searching for him for a year,” Shawn said softly. “Learned a few details about him from your mother a few months before she passed.
Found him in Arizona last week through social media contacts. He had a stroke a few years back and lost his ability to walk. I drove down to get him yesterday… wanted to surprise you for Christmas.”
“I thought…” I choked out between sobs.
“When I saw the hotel… I thought…”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Shawn knelt beside us. “I wanted to tell you so badly. But I needed to make sure I could find him first.
I couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing you if it didn’t work out.”
He pulled me close on the small sofa. “I wanted it to be perfect. Tomorrow morning, Christmas breakfast, your father walking… well, rolling in… the look on your face…”
“I have 26 years of stories saved up,” Dad said softly.
“If you want to hear them.”
“I want to hear everything.” I reached for his hand. “Every single story.”
The sound of their laughter was the greatest Christmas present I could have ever gotten.
