“Oh?” he says neutrally, quirking a bushy eyebrow.
“You know me. I thought it was destiny from the time you’d bring me on research trips deep into the bush. It was always my dream, but lately I’m not so sure. I’m wondering about a lot of things.” I lean against the concrete wall, drawing in a hefty breath. “I love Bruce, Dad, and of course I’ll help get him where he belongs, but as for the rest...I just don’t know. I just feel different about so many things.”
For a second, he stares, and my heart stops.
Then comes the kind, massive, balmy Peter Macklin smile that’s always made me feel like the center of the universe.
“You’ve been through quite a gauntlet, honey, more than I ever went through. I heard what those brutes did to you.” He frowns, rubbing my shoulder, touching me like he’s grateful I’m alive. “Remember what Jung said? 'Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart.'”
“Like you’d ever let me forget.” I roll my eyes, smiling, appreciating Dad’s undying love for Carl Jung’s dream work.
“The thing about dreams is that we can become so busy chasing one, we don’t realize there are others out there. New dreams worth exploring—even at the expense of the old ones,” he muses, pulling at the corner of his mustache.
“That’s true.” I look at him. “So, would you be disappointed if I didn’t follow in your footsteps?”
“My footsteps? Please, dear girl. These feet are too big and clumsy for anyone to follow happily.” He gives me a hug. “Whatever you decide, know that I’ll never be disappointed in you. Not ever. What I want, what I’ve always wanted, is for you to be happy, Willow girl. That’s the brief and the dissertation. Be happy. Love, Dad.” He kisses the top of my head. “And it sounds to me like perhaps you’ve found your happiness right here in rural North Dakota.”
My heart blooms like a whole field of wild flowers.
“Maybe I have, Dad. I think I really have,” I whisper.
“Grady and his daughters appear to be very special,” he urges.
“Yeah, I mean, they kinda are.”
“Marvelous. Then if you don’t mind, let’s leave our tiger friend to his dreams and stomp up a few more of our own. Don’t we have a party to attend?”
“Don’t call it that!” I press a hand against my chest. “It’s just a little get-together. More of a thank you from me to all the people who helped.”
“Ah, so you don’t want to big deal it, then, even when you’re happier than I’ve ever seen you,” he says with a smile.
I start to answer, but the rest of his words hit me in one blow.
All I can do is walk out, lock up, and try so hard to avoid death by smiling.
Several hours later, we find ourselves in a whirlwind, pressing hands and gabbing with so many townsfolk.
The Purple Bobcat feels like the coziest place in the world tonight, full of all the wonderful-larger-than-life people who helped me save my tiger. Who helped me save myself, even if the hero of the story will always be one massive, growly uber dad who can make my heart quicksand faster than I can draw my next breath.
“Boy, howdy!” Granny Coffey says with a low whistle, staring across the room at my father. “If only I was ten years younger.”
“Ten?” a pregnant Tory Faulkner asks her grandmother. “And Gran, what about Robert? Aren’t you two pretty serious now?”
Granny, wearing a floral hot-pink shirt and white pants, touches the pink flower in her grey hair. “Here’s a lesson, Miss Smarty Pants: it’s okay to look at the menu when you always order the same dish.”
We both burst out laughing.
“Looks like we’re being summoned,” Tory says, nodding at my father, who waves us over to join him at the table he’s sitting at with Grady and several others.
“Dibs on the seat next to Peter,” Granny says, elbowing us both aside to be the first to arrive at the table.
“I love her,” I tell Tory.
“What can I say? She’s family,” Tory says with a wink. “I only hope I inherit her spunk when I’m her age.”
“How old is she?”
“Only God knows.” Tory laughs. “Seems like her birthday changes every year.”
I’m still grinning when I arrive at the table and take a seat between Grady and Dad. Granny steals the chair on Dad’s other side, no surprise.
“We were just discussing something, Willow,” Dad says.
“Yeah? What’s that?” I brace myself for more bad news, purely because it’s been too weird thinking the worst is truly over.
He looks at Grady slowly. My gaze flicks between the two of them and the slow, wide grins stretching across their faces.
“How does The Dallas Exotic Learning and Rescue Center sound? Is that too long a name?” Grady asks, his eyes purring with mellow brown heat. “Of course, you can have the final say, but we were working on ideas.”