The Simple Wild (Wild 1)

“Dad, I don’t want to talk about—”

“I know you don’t. But just humor me, will ya?” he says softly.

I listen numbly as he goes through the division of his assets—of the houses, of the truck, of the checkerboard. That’s going to Mabel. And the money from the sale of Wild is going to me. I don’t know what to say about it, and I don’t feel that I deserve it, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about my father, it’s that there’s no point trying to change his mind once it’s made up.

“Dad, why did you really want to come out with me alone today?” I finally ask. It can’t just be for this. We could do that on the ground.

It’s

a moment before he answers. “Talked to your mother last night.”

“Really? She called you?”

“No. I called her. Thought it was time we caught up. I told her how sorry I was for hurting her. How much I wish I could have been what she needed. How much I still love her.”

I turn my gaze out, toward the green tundra below, so he can’t see me blink away the tears. I’m not stupid. He called her to say goodbye.

“I also had to tell her how proud I am of the woman you’ve become. Your mom and Simon, they did so good by you, Calla. Better than I ever could.”

“That’s not true,” I manage to choke out.

“I wish . . .” His brow pulls as his voice trails. “I wish I’d called. I wish I’d got in that plane and seen your graduation. I wish I’d stolen your mom away from that doctor of hers and convinced her to come back with me. I wish I’d made sure you knew how much I thought about you. How much I’ve always loved you.” His voice grows thick. “I wish I’d been someone different than who I am.”

“I love you, too,” I rush to say. “And I like who you are.” It turns out he is the man on the other side of the phone, listening to me prattle in childish wonder. He’s exactly who I wanted him to be, despite all his flaws, and all the pain he caused.

Pain that, oddly enough, has faded. Maybe with time.

Or maybe with forgiveness that I’ve managed to find in all this.

“This is my last flight, kiddo,” he announces with grim certainty. He reaches over and takes my hand, and the smile on his face is oddly at peace. “And I can’t think of a better person to have spent it with.”

“You just cheated.”

“I did not.”

My dad gives me a knowing look.

“It’s not cheating if I don’t know the rules.”

He smirks. “Even though I’ve explained them to you a dozen times now?”

“I wasn’t listening.” I push another piece across three squares and over five. “That’s okay, right?”

“Sure, why not.” He lets out a weak chuckle and his head lolls to the side. It’s too much effort to keep it up these days. “I think I’ve had enough for today.”

“Oh, darn.” I smile teasingly as I slide off the hospital bed that the kind and soft-spoken Jane from hospice arranged to have set up in my father’s living room. Collecting the checkerboard, I move it to the bookshelf in the corner.

And then I check the time on my phone.

“Expecting to hear from someone?” he asks, wincing as he struggles to adjust his gaunt body to no avail. “That’s the eighth time you’ve looked at that thing in the last five minutes.”

“Yeah. I’m just . . . Jonah was supposed to message me.”

“He’s finally learned how to use a phone?”

“Apparently not,” I murmur, fluffing my dad’s pillow for him.

“Don’t worry. He’ll get here when he gets here.” He pauses. “Where are Agnes and Mabel, by the way?”