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“You ready, little one?” Morgan asked, as he scooped up baby Sam into his arms. “We’re going to go see your daddy.”
“Dada!” she chirruped happily, smiling and kicking out her legs.
“That’s a girl. Let’s go get you strapped in.”
She was especially good in the car, babbling away as Morgan talked back, though keeping his eyes on the road.
When he went to get her out of her seat she held out her arms and made grabby hands.
“Baba!”
“C'mon baby, I’ve got you,” he cooed, lifting her up. She held onto the fabric of his shirt as he balanced her on his hip, kicked out her legs excitedly again.
“Dada?”
“Yes, Baba is taking you to see Daddy.”
As soon as she could see where her other father was, she started to wiggle, attempting to free herself and waddle over under her own steam.
“Dada!”
The soft grass was a cushion as she fell in her mad scramble to reach him, and Morgan waited for her to get to her feet again and continue before he followed.
“Dada!” she repeated happily when she reached the modest stone and brass plaque, put both her hands on it and smiled triumphantly.
“Hey, Spencer,” Morgan murmured, as he spread out the blanket he’d bought and sat down. “C'mon Sam, come sit down if you want your treats.”
Eagerly Sam eased herself down and looked expectantly at Morgan as he snapped open the plastic container. He gave his daughter a cookie, and then set the tub down between his knees.
“I know it’s conditioning her,” Morgan said to the grave marker, “but I just want her to like coming to visit you. I will explain. Keep explaining. I miss you.”
For the hundredth time he read the name and dates, and mentally traced each line of the engraved words in memory of the man he loved.