When Mackenzie's eyes opened, a familiar pair of overt hazel eyes were staring down at her, audible sounds of remorse escaping his lips. The sight, although blurry, she could note the familiar lines of wrinkles around his eyes.
With a strangled breath, she uttered, "Pops?"
Although she wasn't certain if that possibility was correct, who among her in-laws had bushy gray hair and deep wrinkles on their face with a generous amount of white hair around their mustache and jawline? Not only that, this man smelt a lot like natural strawberries and grapes, something only a fruit farmer like her father would smell like.
The sob of the man halted on hearing her voice, and when he stared down at her face, he broke down into another round of sobs.
"Mackenzie! My daughter!" The next thing she knew,
