Old Man Goes to Visit Daughter for His 80th Birthday, She Doesn’t Let Him Enter Her House – Story of the Day

Richard visits his daughter to celebrate his eightieth birthday with her, but she answers the door in tears and sends him away. Richard suspects trouble and realizes he’s right after peeking through her front windows.

Richard tapped his fingers nervously against the steering wheel as he drove. Deidre used to drive down every Thanksgiving, but that stopped after his wife’s funeral four years ago. Now, there were only weekly calls.

Richard spread his arms wide as Deidre appeared in the doorway. “Surprise!” he yelled.

“Dad? What are you doing here?” she asked, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I came to celebrate my birthday with you…it’s the big eight-o!” Richard replied, but the joy in his voice trailed off quickly. “What’s wrong, honey? Why are you crying?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“It’s nothing; everything’s fine,” Deidre quickly wiped her tears and smiled a little. “I just…I wasn’t expecting you, and this isn’t really a good time. Sorry, Dad, but I, uh, need to focus. On my work. Look, I’ll call you. We’ll have dinner later, okay? Sorry.”

Deidre shut the door, leaving Richard hurt and confused. Something was terribly wrong. Was Deidre in trouble?

Richard stepped back from the front door but didn’t leave. He stepped over the short, flowering shrubs lining the path and snuck up to peek through the windows.

Two rough-looking men were in the sitting room with Deidre.

“Who was that?” One of them asked in a rough voice.

“Nobody,” Deidre lied in a shaky voice. “Just a neighbor’s kid…pulling a doorbell prank and running away.”

“Back to business then,” the second man said. “You’re now six months behind on your loan repayments, Deidre. Mr. Marco’s getting impatient.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“I just need more time. Business is sure to pick up again in the winter,” she pleaded.

“Time is one thing you haven’t got, sweetie,” the man replied, pulling out his gun. “People who owe Mr. Marco money don’t have a great life expectancy and end up feeding the fishes in the lake…” He pointed the weapon at her.

Terror froze Richard in place. But soon, the man stepped back with a look of disgust and tucked the gun away in the waistband of his trousers.

“Look around this dump and see if there’s anything valuable we can take to Mr. Marco, Danny,” he ordered. “She’s a businesswoman, so there must be a computer or some kind of equipment around here.”

”But I need those things!” she cried. “I can’t make money without my equipment!”

The man patted the butt of his gun. ”Boo-Hoo. I can still change my mind, you know. Don’t be ungrateful, now.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

The men ransacked her home before they stormed out, leaving Deidre curled up sobbing on the floor.

Nothing made sense to Richard because Deidre’s business was doing well. At least that’s what she had told him. But now, Richard could sense something was amiss. Deidre needed his help.

The men loaded several appliances from Deidre’s home in their vehicle.

When they finally drove away, Richard followed them.

The men stopped at a two-storeyed brick building downtown that looked like a bar. While it was closed, the door was unlocked. No one on the staff stopped Richard as he entered the building.

The men had joined a large table where several other rough-looking men were seated. One of them stood and swaggered toward him.

“The club’s closed,” he growled. “Come back later.”

“I’m here to discuss Deidre’s debt,” Richard announced.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“Oh?” The man seated at the head of the table rose and stared at Richard. He looked like a gentleman except for a nasty scar above his left eye. Richard guessed he was Mr. Marco.

”How much does she owe you?” Richard asked.

Mr. Marco smirked. “A good samaritan, huh? Deidre took out a business loan of $80,000 from me. She was supposed to pay me back from her monthly profits, only she never made any.”

”I have around $20,000 in my savings,” Richard gulped fearfully, shaken Deidre had borrowed such a big sum.

”That’s only a quarter of what she owes us.” Mr. Marco sighed. “But there’s something you can do to make up the difference.”

Richard didn’t like the sound of that, but he had to do whatever it took to save his daughter from the mess she’d gotten herself into.

”What do you want me to do?” he asked.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Mr. Marco grinned at Richard and beckoned him closer to the table.

”My partner and I recently started a small business importing cars to Canada, but some of the paperwork has been delayed, so we’re having difficulties getting the…’merchandise’…across the border. A kind, innocent-looking Grandpa like you should have no trouble crossing the border in one of our cars.”

Richard had no choice but to agree. Later that night, he pulled into a gas station near the border town to use the bathroom and parked beside a patrol.

“Jesus!” he gasped as the German Shepherd in the back of the police cruiser began barking at him and pawing at the window.

Service dogs were trained not to bark at random people unless…Oh, man.

He quickly climbed back in the car, a Valiant, and started reversing as the police dog went crazy.

Two cops hurried out of the gas station store and yelled at him to stop as they glanced at him. The GPS app voiced directions, but Richard shoved it in his pocket to silence the darn thing.

He pushed the Valiant to its limits as he wove through traffic, leaving a trail of outraged drivers and narrowly avoided collisions in his wake. The sirens blared behind him.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Richard soon spotted a narrow, unmarked dirt road veering into the forest ahead. He sharply turned, leaving the road behind him as he raced into the forest. The muddy trails were awful to navigate, but Richard pushed on.

He turned down a narrow track leading downhill. Then, he turned up a slight rise and instantly regretted it.

The car was now stuck in a precarious position, balanced on a narrow rise above a wide river. Richard tried to reverse back the way he came, but the tires spun without getting traction.

In fact, the car was sliding closer to the water.

“No!” Richard desperately pulled up the parking brake, but it didn’t work.

The car’s nose hit the river with a loud splash, sending a wave of dark water flooding over the bonnet. Richard shoved the car door open, desperate to escape the sinking vehicle.

The pressure from the water started to push the car door shut against Richard’s legs. Richard splashed around in panic as the river filled the interior.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

As the water level crept up his face, he tipped his head back, took one last breath, and pulled himself underwater.

Richard squeezed himself out of the opening and pushed himself up toward the surface. He took in a lungful of air and swam toward the river bank.

Reaching land made Richard realize how close he was to death. He was thankfully breathing. But he still needed to do something about the $80,000. So Richard hitchhiked home.

”I need to mortgage my house,” he told the bank assistant. ”And I need the cash in my bank account fast.”

Richard waited impatiently as the bank employee processed the paperwork. He jumped in fright when Deidre called him.

“Some thugs from a local gang were just here asking about you, Dad…what is happening?”

“Tell them I’ll be there soon. I arranged to pay off your debt for you. I don’t understand why you didn’t come to me first, Deidre, but this isn’t the time to discuss that.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Richard ended the call and signed the paperwork. He didn’t want to give up the home where he had created memories with his family, but it was the only way to help Deidre.

A few hours later, he pulled into the club’s parking lot in a rented car and headed toward the entrance.

”Dad, wait!” Richard looked back as Deidre ran toward him.

”I won’t let you face those thugs alone,” she said. ”I still don’t understand how you found out about this mess or how you got the money to repay them, but the least I can do is stand by you while you save me.”

Richard studied the determined look in Deidre’s eyes and knew he couldn’t convince her to leave. As they entered the club, the thugs herded him and Deidre toward the table.

Richard placed his duffel bag, which contained the cash he’d withdrawn after the mortgage went through, and put it on the table.

”Here’s the $80,000 Deidre owed you plus another $15,000 to cover the cost of your car. I, uh, got into some trouble, and the car ended up in a river.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Mr. Marco’s mouth twisted angrily, and he thumped his fist against the table.

“You have the audacity to offer me a measly $15,000? After you come in here and tell me you sank the $100,000 shipment hidden in that car? That doesn’t even BEGIN to cover what you now owe me.”

The gangster grabbed the duffel bag and threw it to one of his thugs.

”You know, Deidre, I really believed in you, but sometimes, in business, you’ve got to know when to cut your losses.”

He removed a gun from his suit jacket and pointed it straight at Deidre’s forehead.

Richard pulled Deidre behind him. “No, please! This is all my fault! Don’t punish her!”

”Well, you made a good point.” The gangster shrugged, and the next moment, Richard was staring down the gun barrel.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

But suddenly, they heard police sirens outside.

Mr. Marco turned and ran toward the back of the club as loud gunfire boomed and shook the place.

Father and daughter crawled under the table. There was chaos in the club, and as Richard looked into his daughter’s fear-filled eyes, he knew he had to get her to safety, no matter what.

Richard and Deidre pulled one of the tables over and barricaded themselves in a corner. They hid there until the police escorted them to safety. Thankfully, Mr. Marco was apprehended.

”Are you certain you don’t have any heart-related health issues?” Richard shook his head at the paramedic while in the ambulance.

Richard swallowed hard when the police detective approached the ambulance.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“Sir, what were you and your daughter doing in this club today?” the detective asked sternly.

Richard explained about Deidre’s loan and how they’d come to the club that day to repay it. He hoped he might get away with not mentioning the car he sank in the river.

The detective glanced at Deidre. “If we hadn’t found a car full of contraband in the river, we wouldn’t have been here to rescue you. You shouldn’t be taking loans from such disreputable people, miss.”

“A car in the river?” Richard asked nervously.

“It was registered to Mr. Marco’s cousin, which was exactly the lede we needed to take this gang down,” replied the officer.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Richard sighed in relief. He was in the clear.

The cops let him and Deidre go once they provided their statements.

”I owe you a huge apology, Dad. I dragged you into this whole mess,” Deidre apologized as they walked to the front, where Richard’s car was parked.

Tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t know how to tell you. How does anyone tell their father that they’re a huge failure?”

“You are not a failure!” Richard put his hands on Deidre’s shoulders. ”Maybe your business idea didn’t work out as well as you’d hoped, but you tried, Deidre. I wish you’d felt comfortable enough to tell me what was really going on in your life. Heck, I just wish you felt you could be as close with me as you were with your mother,” he continued. ”I don’t think you’ve been ‘fine’ for quite a while now.”

Deidre burst into tears, and Richard put an arm around her. “It’s okay, honey,” he whispered soothingly. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a woman who spots her husband taking his wedding ring off before leaving for work. She decides to follow him, only to discover something shocking.

I Was Looking At a Photo of My Late Wife and Me When Something Fell Out of the Frame and Made Me Go Pale

The day I buried Emily, all I had left were our photos and memories. But when something slipped from behind our engagement picture that night, my hands started shaking. What I discovered made me question if I’d ever really known my wife at all.

The funeral home had tied a black ribbon on our front door. I stared at it, my key suspended in the lock, wondering who’d thought that was necessary.

A black ribbon attached to a doorknob | Source: Midjourney

A black ribbon attached to a doorknob | Source: Midjourney

As if the neighbors didn’t already know that I’d been at the cemetery all afternoon, watching them lower my wife into the ground while Rev. Matthews talked about angels and eternal rest.

My hands shook as I finally got the door open. The house smelled wrong — like leather polish and sympathy casseroles.

Emily’s sister Jane had “helped” by cleaning while I was at the hospital during those final days. Now everything gleamed with an artificial brightness that made my teeth hurt.

A home entrance hallway | Source: Pexels

A home entrance hallway | Source: Pexels

“Home sweet home, right, Em?” I called out automatically, then caught myself. The silence that answered felt like a physical blow.

I loosened my tie, the blue one Emily had bought me last Christmas, and kicked off my dress shoes. They hit the wall with dull thuds.

Emily would have scolded me for that, pressing her lips together in the way she had, trying not to smile while she lectured me about scuff marks.

A heartbroken man looking down | Source: Midjourney

A heartbroken man looking down | Source: Midjourney

“Sorry, honey,” I muttered, but I left the shoes where they lay.

Our bedroom was worse than the rest of the house. Jane had changed the sheets — probably trying to be kind — but the fresh linen smell just emphasized that Emily’s scent was gone.

The bed was made with hospital corners, every wrinkle smoothed away, erasing the casual mess that had been our life together.

“This isn’t real,” I said to the empty room. “This can’t be real.”

A bedroom | Source: Pexels

A bedroom | Source: Pexels

But it was. The sympathy cards on the dresser proved it, as did the pills on the nightstand that hadn’t been enough to save her in the end.

It had all happened so suddenly. Em got sick last year, but she fought it. Chemotherapy took an immense toll on her, but I was there to support her every step of the way. The cancer eventually went into remission.

We thought we’d won. Then a check-up showed it was back, and it was everywhere.

A couple staring grimly at each other | Source: Midjourney

A couple staring grimly at each other | Source: Midjourney

Em fought like a puma right up until the end, but… but it was a losing battle. I could see that now.

I fell onto her side of the bed, not bothering to change out of my funeral clothes. The mattress didn’t even hold her shape anymore. Had Jane flipped it? The thought made me irrationally angry.

“Fifteen years,” I whispered into Emily’s pillow. “Fifteen years, and this is how it ends? A ribbon on the door and casseroles in the fridge?”

A heartbroken man | Source: Midjourney

A heartbroken man | Source: Midjourney

My eyes landed on our engagement photo, the silver frame catching the late afternoon light. Emily looked so alive in it, her yellow sundress bright against the summer sky, her laugh caught mid-burst as I spun her around.

I grabbed it, needing to be closer to that moment and the joy we both felt then.

“Remember that day, Em? You said the camera would capture our souls. Said that’s why you hated having your picture taken, because—”

My fingers caught on something behind the frame.

A man holding a photo | Source: Midjourney

A man holding a photo | Source: Midjourney

There was a bump under the backing that shouldn’t have been there.

I traced it again, frowning. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I pried the backing loose. Something slipped out, floating to the carpet like a fallen leaf.

My heart stopped.

It was another photograph, old and slightly curved as if it had been handled often before being hidden away.

A stunned man | Source: Midjourney

A stunned man | Source: Midjourney

In the photo, Emily (God, she looked so young) was sitting in a hospital bed, cradling a newborn wrapped in a pink blanket.

Her face was different than I’d ever seen it: exhausted, and scared, but with a fierce love that took my breath away.

I couldn’t understand what I was looking at. Although we tried, Emily and I were never able to have kids, so whose baby was this?

A confused man | Source: Midjourney

A confused man | Source: Midjourney

With trembling fingers, I turned the photo over. Emily’s handwriting, but shakier than I knew it: “Mama will always love you.”

Below that was a phone number.

“What?” The word came out as a croak. “Emily, what is this?”

There was only one way to find out.

A thoughtful man | Source: Midjourney

A thoughtful man | Source: Midjourney

The phone felt heavy in my hand as I dialed, not caring that it was nearly midnight. Each ring echoed in my head like a church bell.

“Hello?” A woman answered, her voice warm but cautious.

“I’m sorry for calling so late.” My voice sounded strange to my ears. “My name is James. I… I just found a photograph of my wife Emily with a baby, and this number…”

The silence stretched so long I thought she’d hung up.

A man speaking on his phone | Source: Midjourney

A man speaking on his phone | Source: Midjourney

“Oh,” she finally said, so softly I almost missed it. “Oh, James. I’ve been waiting for this call for years. It’s been ages since Emily got in touch.”

“Emily died.” The words tasted like ashes. “The funeral was today.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked with genuine grief. “I’m Sarah. I… I adopted Emily’s daughter, Lily.”

The room tilted sideways. I gripped the edge of the bed. “Daughter?”

A shocked man | Source: Midjourney

A shocked man | Source: Midjourney

“She was nineteen,” Sarah explained gently. “A freshman in college. She knew she couldn’t give the baby the life she deserved. It was the hardest decision she ever made.”

“We tried for years to have children,” I said, anger suddenly blazing through my grief. “Years of treatments, specialists, disappointments. She never said a word about having a baby before me. Never.”

“She was terrified,” Sarah said. “Terrified you’d judge her, terrified you’d leave. She loved you so much, James. Sometimes love makes us do impossible things.”

A man on a phone call | Source: Midjourney

A man on a phone call | Source: Midjourney

I closed my eyes, remembering her tears during fertility treatments, and how she’d grip my hand too tight whenever we passed playgrounds.

I’d assumed it was because we were both so desperate to have a child, but now I wondered how much of that came from longing for the daughter she gave up.

“Tell me about her,” I heard myself say. “Tell me about Lily.”

A man speaking on his phone | Source: Midjourney

A man speaking on his phone | Source: Midjourney

Sarah’s voice brightened. “She’s twenty-five now. A kindergarten teacher, if you can believe it. She has Emily’s laugh, her way with people. She’s always known she was adopted, and she knows about Emily. Would… would you like to meet her?”

“Of course!” I replied.

The next morning, I sat in a corner booth at a café, too nervous to touch my coffee. The bell above the door chimed, and I looked up.

It was like being punched in the chest.

A man in a coffeeshop | Source: Midjourney

A man in a coffeeshop | Source: Midjourney

She had Emily’s eyes and her smile. She even tucked her hair behind her ear like Em would’ve as she scanned the room. When our gazes met, we both knew.

“James?” Her voice wavered.

I stood, nearly knocking over my chair. “Lily.”

She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around me like she’d been waiting her whole life to do it. I held her close, breathing in the scent of her shampoo — lavender, just like Emily’s had been.

Two people hugging | Source: Midjourney

Two people hugging | Source: Midjourney

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered against my shoulder. “When Mom called this morning… I’ve always wondered about you, about what kind of man my mother married.”

We spent hours talking. She showed me pictures on her phone of her college graduation, her first classroom, and her cat. I told her stories about Emily, our life together, and the woman her mother became.

“She used to send Mom birthday cards for me every year,” Lily revealed, wiping tears from her eyes.

A woman in a coffeeshop smiling sadly | Source: Midjourney

A woman in a coffeeshop smiling sadly | Source: Midjourney

“We never spoke, but Mom told me she used to call now and then to ask how I was doing.”

Looking at this beautiful, brilliant young woman who had Emily’s kindness shining in her eyes, I began to understand Emily’s secret differently.

It wasn’t just shame or fear that had kept her quiet. She’d been protecting Lily by letting her have a safe, stable life with Sarah. It must have hurt Em deeply to keep this secret, but she’d done it out of love for her child.

A thoughtful man | Source: Midjourney

A thoughtful man | Source: Midjourney

“I wish I’d known sooner,” I said, reaching for Lily’s hand. “But I think I understand why she never told me. I’m so sorry you can’t get to know her, but I want you to know, I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

Lily squeezed my fingers. “Do you think… could we maybe do this again? Get to know each other better?”

“I’d like that,” I said, feeling something warm bloom in my chest for the first time since Emily’s death. “I’d like that very much.”

A man smiling in a coffeeshop | Source: Midjourney

A man smiling in a coffeeshop | Source: Midjourney

That night, I placed the hidden photo next to our engagement picture on the nightstand.

Emily smiled at me from both frames — young and old, before and after, always with love in her eyes. I touched her face through the glass.

“You did good, Em,” I whispered. “You did real good. And I promise you, I’ll do right by her. By both of you.”

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