Disclaimer: not mine

Isabelle Sarah MacKenzie Rabb was too little to understand the symbolism of it, but every night Harm told her the same bedtime story. It was about a very beautiful princess with chocolate locks and chocolate eyes, just like Isabelle's. The main character was Princess Sarah and she was the fairest of all the lands. Like all princesses in fairy tales she faced a perilous situation in the mean land of Paragland and then a dashing young prince by the name of Harmon came to rescue her, brought her home and they lived happily ever after.

And every night the four and a half year old would ask him to retell the story, and like a good daddy he would. The second time around would be much slower and more monotone and by the time Prince Harmon had vanquished the nasty Mr Webb from their lives, Isabelle would be sleeping soundly. Standing, Harm would kiss her head twice, once from him, once from Mac, turn off the light and close the door, leaving his daughter to a dreamland filled with fun and fairytales.

Taking himself into his own room, Harm's fairytale adventure would revert back to the reality; the sad, heartbreaking reality that Princess Sarah only existed now in the land of make-believe. While Prince Harmon ended up with his Princess each night, the truth was that Harm lost his Sarah four and a half years ago – the same day she gave him the most precious gift in the world, Isabelle.

Four years on and Harm still slept with Mac's photo on the pillow beside him. He had filled the house with photos of her, of them both, of them welcoming Isabelle into the world. The look of pure bliss on her face was something Harm would never forget. Alas, ten minutes after the photo was taken Mac's beleaguered uterus had ruptured and she had bled out before they could get her to surgery.

It was by far the very best and very worst days he had ever experienced. Even now, the mere memory of the doctor shaking his head as he exited her room brought him to tears. And for the millionth time since her passing, Harm had to wonder what kind of God would do this to her. How could a loving God be so cruel as to give her everything she desired for such a short time? How could He bring a life into the world only to leave her without her mother, a mother who would have spent her life loving and cherishing her? There were so many questions but never any answers.

In the aftermath of Mac's death, Harm had retired from the Navy. With his twenty years behind and the life of a single parent ahead, the decision to retire had been very easy. For the first six months, his mother and step-father stayed with him, to rally around him and to help with the baby. There were days, early on, when the haze of grief was so thick Harm couldn't see a thing around him. And the day to day care of Isabelle, and himself, was left to others. There continued to be difficult times but he moved on...slowly ... and his parents only went home when Harm felt he could cope alone.

It was their first night alone that Harm told the infant the story of Princess Sarah. His very distressed little girl soon calmed as he rocked her and talked about the most beautiful princess in the world and how much she loved them both.

Each of Isabelle's milestones were met with smiles and tears. Each one filling his heart with pride. Each one reminding Harm that this was something else Mac was missing out on.

Through it all, Harriet had been a godsend. It was she who helped him through the teething periods. The nonstop screaming and tears were something that Harm could not face alone. It was Harriet who taught him how to fix a girl's hair with ribbons and bows, braids and pigtails. It was Harriet who babysat when he needed a long run or a night out or just some space.

This particular night, Harm went to the window seat in the living room with his guitar and strummed gently as he softly crooned 'The Way We Were'. With Mac's birthday only a week away, he was feeling very melancholy and soon the tears fell. It wasn't until he got to the chorus for a second time he realised he had an audience.

"Why does Princess Sarah always make you sad, daddy?" she asked from the doorway.

Putting his guitar down, Harm beckoned his daughter over and soon she was on his lap, snuggled into him.

"Because I miss her," Harm said, as he kissed the child's head.

"I miss her too," she replied, running her hand inside Harm's shirt so she could be closer.

"Do you?" Harm asked. "What do you miss about her?"

"I miss her being my mommy," she said with a yawn and Harm's brow furrowed. There wasn't much that got by his daughter.

"I miss that too," he said, kissing her head again.

"Tell me about my mommy," she said, looking up at him with the same soulful eyes her mother once had; the same eyes which melted his heart each and every time.

Reaching across, Harm picked up the photo taken in the first moments of Isabelle's life.

"Your mommy loved you very, very much," he started, fighting against the lump in his throat. "See, here she is giving you your very first kiss and you can see all the love she had for you in her eyes."

Silently, Isabelle reached out and traced her finger around Mac's face.

"Why did she die then?" she asked, too young to know what being blunt was.

"She didn't want to, Belle," he said, holding her tightly. "What she wanted most was a baby and she was so happy when you came along. But her tummy was too sick and just after you came, she died."

"That's sad, daddy," she said tearfully.

"That's very sad, Belle," he replied swiping at a tear.

"I wish she was here," Isabelle said, pushing closer to Harm.

"We all wish that," Harm said, before coughing to clear the lump in his throat.

"I want a mommy," she said, tugging at Harm's shirt.

"You have one, baby," he soothed. "This is your mommy," he said, tapping the photo. "And she is always here..." he tapped her chest above her heart, then above his. "And here..."

"But I can't hug her there," she cried. "Not like Nikki and them can hug Aunty Harriet ..."

"I know, but you can hug me," he said, pulling her closer. "I'll always be here for you."

Isabelle hugged him tightly before pulling back slightly. "Sing, daddy," she said and in the quietness of the room, Harm sang 'Mockingbird' until his baby girl had drifted off to sleep.

For nearly an hour, Harm cradled his sleeping daughter to him, trying to ease his own pain. As he did he thought about the life ahead for Isabelle and the toll not having a mother would have on her. On a desperate night a week after his parents had left when Isabelle had cried endlessly, Harm had called Harriet in utter distress. Five minutes after she'd arrived, Harriet found the problem, Harm had the diaper on too tightly and the child was uncomfortable. A fresh diaper on properly, a quick tepid bath to soothe the infant and Isabelle was asleep. It took Harriet a lot more work to soothe Harm though.

He had said a lot to Harriet that night, lots of things he couldn't remember, lots of things he could. While she had never brought up the content of that evening with him again, he knew he had asked her to take the child and bring her up as her own, that way the child would have a mother and father. Harriet had held his hand and promised to do anything but that. While she would do everything she could for them both, the baby girl had a daddy that loved her very, very much and she needed him as much as he needed her.

When Harm had gotten down on his knees and tearfully pleaded with her to take Isabelle, Harriet had simply wrapped her arms around him and waited for his utter heartache to subside. It was then she told him she would stay the night and they would talk once Harm had eaten something and slept at least six hours.

When the following day dawned, Harm felt somewhat better about things and rather than talking about the custody of the child over breakfast, they had made a plan of all the things that needed to happen for Isabelle and the way they could share the load. Harm would take her to the moms'n'bubs class to learn how to do things with her; Harriet would take her for her immunisation shots, something Harm couldn't bear to do. Harm would take care of her on weekdays, and Harriet would have her sleep over on Saturday nights so Harm could spend the weekend doing things for himself. It was a plan which worked well.

While Harriet was 'Aunty Harriet' by name and god mother by baptism, Harm conceded she was the nearest thing his daughter would ever have for a mother and for that he was grateful. As he carried the child back to her bed he allowed himself to smile, for the first time since she was born Harm was starting to feel that they could do this, that he could raise a happy, well adjusted girl.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered, tucking her in once more. "Daddy loves you very, very much."

"Love, daddy," she murmured.

"Love you," he repeated, and then he kissed her - twice.