Page 12 of Beanful Wishes

When Michael and Lily finish the story, she offers to sign it and takes a selfie with father and daughter.

“When I grow up, I want to be an author like you.” Lily looks up at the woman.

“Are you good at telling stories?” Lori asks. When Lily nods, she encourages her to tell one and listens attentively. “You have the gift. Keep telling stories. Draw them and get your dad to help you write them down.”

“Her mother used to read to her every day,” Michael says.

“It’s a good habit for any child,” Lori says.

“My dad doesn’t really have time to read books.” Lily crawls in his lap, clutching her new book to her chest.

“I’m going to make time,” Michael says. “Stories are important.”

As Lori leaves, I find myself thinking about how stories have the power to heal. I’ve seen it play out in front of my eyes and my camera lens today. And they have the power to bring people together, including a father and daughter struggling to cope with grief.

“Can I have more cake?” Lily asks after more time on the playground.

“One more slice. I don’t want you to spoil your dinner.” Michael looks at her indulgently.

“Who’s having cake with me?” the little girl asks.

Her dad shakes his head, and I can’t take more than one slice.

“I’ll have cake with you,” Jake says. “If you cut it for us.”

“I can do that.” Lily grabs his hand and pulls him to the far end of the picnic table where the cake is waiting.

Michael takes a seat beside me. “Thank you for today.”

“My pleasure.” He looks like he could use one of Jake’s Lofty Lattes after all the fun and excitement. “I hope it was enough to fulfill your wish.”

“More than enough.” A smile spreads across the father’s face. “Today reminded me of what it was like when my wife and I took her places. Went on vacation together. It was the reminder I needed.”

“I’m glad.”

“Today is something she’ll never forget,” he says. “Something neither one of us will ever forget.”

I can’t help smiling. “Memories are important.”

“They are.”

We watch Lily and Jake finish their cake before racing around the park for a while.

By the time they are back, beads of sweat dot Lily’s face. A few wispy strands of hair are curling from the moisture caused by the late afternoon sun and all the play.

“Did you have a good day?” Jake asks, watching her small face carefully.

“The best.” Lily climbs into her father’s lap and settles down. While the three of us chat, her eyes begin to droop.

“We should leave and let you take her home.” I stand and hand him the pink purse that holds the dolphin.

Jake and I clean up the remnants of the picnic, and I wrap up the last of the cake for Lily.

She falls asleep holding her dad hand on the ride back to Coffee Loft.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Michael says, cradling his daughter to his chest after getting her out of the carseat.

“Watching the two of you enjoy yourselves is all the thanks I need,” Jake says.

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