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Wolf instantly recognized the genetic link between Ellen and her dad—fair hair, widely spaced blue eyes, slender nose.
“Mr. Wingate? I’m Wolf Valdes, your daughter’s counselor.”
The man offered a firm handshake. “Call me Steve.”
As they left baggage claim, Steve wasted no time on small talk. “How’s my daughter? Tell me about the attack.”
Wolf reported on the girl’s health, waiting until they’d fastened their seatbelts to suggest the wounds might be self-inflicted.
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Steve’s troubled eyes spoke of guilt. “I left town as soon as we divorced. Ellen must think I abandoned her. That’s what’s turned her off men.”
Wolf shook his head. “I’m no psychologist. But beating yourself up won’t help Ellen. She fell in love. Yeah, with a woman. Maybe she’s wired that way. Maybe it’s youthful experimentation. The who really doesn’t matter.”
He locked eyes with Steve. “She was desperate, hurting. Forget the lesbian stuff and your guilt. Tell Ellen you’re in her corner no matter what.”
Steve scrubbed at his cheek. “Okay. Got it.”
“Good man. The fact you’re here may be all your daughter needs to make a fresh start.”
A tense silence followed. “You live in California, right? What do you do for a living?”
The question flipped an animation switch. Steve’s eyes lit and his shoulders lifted as he described his work as a computer security guru for one of the industry giants.
The father’s energy drained away when Wolf parked the car. “I’m nervous.”
Wolf nodded. “Want me to go in first? Let her know you’re here?”
“Yeah, please.”
Ellen’s complexion appeared only a shade darker than the starched white sheets. Wolf pulled up a chair beside her bed to explain her dad had taken a red-eye flight to be at her side. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She’s fragile. Go easy.
“Did you know I’m one-quarter Cherokee?” he asked.
Ellen looked puzzled at the turn in the conversation.
“My Cherokee great-grandfather—my namesake—was a priest. Though the Cherokee don’t believe priests have supernatural powers, these men serve as the tribe’s vessels, filled with sacred knowledge by their elders. They’re taught to heal the sick, ward off evil, bless crops.”
The girl relaxed. Stories are good medicine. Wolf leaned forward.
“When the elders decided my great-grandfather was ready to join the priesthood, they buried him alive, covered his grave with leaves, and set them on fire.”
“What?” A hint of color crept into Ellen’s cheeks.
“Scary, huh? The story gave me the willies as a child.” He smiled. “They poked a hollow cane through the sod so he could breathe. Still I marveled at his bravery—and trust. Smothering soil. Total darkness. And he accepted it.”
Ellen whispered, “I could never do that.”
“Not sure I could either,” Wolf agreed. “But Grandmother told me her father claimed that light and air had a new quality once he rose from that grave. The experience brought color and joy to everything that followed. It gave him a taste for life.”
He stood and smiled down at Ellen. “We don’t have to be buried alive to have darkness swallow us. It’s what we do when we climb out of the blackness that matters.”
She looked up with pleading eyes. “You know, don’t you? There was no attacker.”
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “May I tell the authorities? You don’t want someone wrongly accused, do you?”
“Oh, no,” she sobbed. “But I lied to the police. They’ll send me to jail.”
“They won’t,” he said. “I promise.”
Witnessing the father-daughter reunion that followed buoyed Wolf’s spirits. They hugged and cried. In a weird way, he envied Ellen’s emotional train wreck. The girl obviously had great capacity to love. She’d be fine.
He rolled his eyes at his sappy musings. Day in and day out, bachelorhood suited him. He ate cold pizza for breakfast. Fished for salmon in Alaska. Wore T-shirts frayed to perfection. No complications. No fights.
He liked ladies. Let’s amend that—he loved them. During each relationship, he remained monogamous. When relationships ran their course, the women often remained friends—sometimes friends with benefits.
Maybe that’s why Riley intrigues me. I walked away long before I was ready.
Something drew him to her. Something besides imaginative sex and her keen sense of humor. Too bad he’d never had the chance to find out what that something might be.