You can … call me Da," he said. His voice was husky; he stopped and cleared his throat. "If-if ye want to, I mean," he added diffidently. "Da," she said, and felt the smile bloom easily this time, unmarred by tears. "Da. Is that Gaelic?" He smiled back, the corners of his mouth trembling slightly. "No. It's only … simple." And suddenly it was all simple. He held out his arms to her. She stepped into them and found that she had been wrong; he was as big as she'd imagined-and his arms were as strong about her as she had ever dared to hope.
( Diana Gabaldon )
[ Drums of Autumn ]
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