Page 16 of Chaos has a Name (An FBI Romance/Thriller #66)

Damascus

The Reservation

Same Time

Never let it be said that his children did anything lowkey because they absolutely didn’t. The second they arrived, Wyler was well aware of them reaching the reservation.

After all, he wasn’t that far from his father’s once cabin, as he communed with the nature around him.

There had been the hum of multiple vehicles heading down the long dirt roads, and the echo of his grandchildren screaming and laughing.

As soon as he heard that, he moved deeper into the woods—not to hide from them, per se, but to hide from what was coming.

The showdown with his daughter.

There was no doubt that Elizabeth was going to try to talk him out of leaving, and he wasn’t.

Truly, Wyler dreaded this day.

When he found out that Caryn told Elizabeth about his cancer being back, there was no doubt that the confrontation would be coming. There was no way she was going to not argue with him.

Elizabeth loved him, and he knew she was going to hurt from his decision, but it was his to make.

Right?

Wyler didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to suffer for the last few months either. What he wanted was to be surrounded by his family, so he didn’t die alone.

It appeared that he was going to get just that. That fear of dying alone haunted him.

The idea of crossing and being alone as his soul left his body…

That was his one fear.

Thankfully, his family had come. In a way, he knew it was wrong to do this to get them to be here with him, but he needed it.

He needed them.

Now, with peyote in hand, he was going to medicate himself, and enjoy the little confab with nature. After all, he was still coming to grips with his mortality.

The bottom line was that for him, time was running out.

In the chaos of it all, he needed to find some well-needed peace.

Fortunately, it didn’t take him long to find a nice spot on a mossy rock that he could sit, meditate, and find the calm he was lacking.

Maybe he wanted to hide more, but he knew if he chewed the peyote, and breathed in the smoke, he’d slowly drift to a calmer place.

He’d watched his father do it, and also his son, Ethan, take that trip into the smoke. Maybe there, he’d get the answers he sought.

Was he trying to justify his choice not to have chemo?

Yes.

Was that selfish?

He didn’t know.

Since his time alone was likely not going to last as long as he hoped, it was time to do it.

Sitting with his legs crossed on the moss, he put a few sticks in front of him, and lit a small fire.

As it went up in flames, Wyler tossed some of the peyote he’d ‘borrowed’ from Ethan’s stash in the tipi onto the flames.

The rest, he consumed.

The euphoric feeling hit hard, and it didn’t take long for the psychedelic properties to kick in.

In the smoke, and from consumption, he began his trip into the calm to begin his dream walking.

There, he hoped to find the answers because he was desperate to get some advice.

When he opened his eyes, he was alone in the trees, standing in the middle of the forest. No longer was he sitting on his rocks, breathing in the smoke.

It was then when he heard it.

That familiar laughter was a sound that he’d not heard for over a decade.

“Dad!” he shouted, as his voice echoed across the woods and reverberated back toward him. “I need to see you! Where are you?”

Wyler waited.

And there was nothing.

This wasn’t the first time he’d called for Timothy, and he was going to keep trying until he came.

If anything, he was persistent.

At some point, his father would appear, and he’d be able to talk to him because he missed him more than words would ever explain.

There was a deep longing to cross so he could be with the people he loved. Would he miss his wife, children, and grandchildren?

Yes.

But his soul wanted to go home.

Wyler could feel the pull.

As he stood there, a pretty butterfly floated past him, and the colors were absolutely gorgeous.

Everything in the smoke was magnified, and all of his senses were heightened.

When a bird cawed from somewhere in the trees, he knew when he arrived.

That would be the original raven.

When there was the sound of flapping wings, Wyler knew it began.

“Hey, Dad,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”

Behind him, he could feel his presence as his father transformed from that big raven into the form he remembered before his death.

The mighty Shaman had arrived.

FINALLY.

“My son, what is this all about?” he asked, standing there.

Turning around, Wyler faced his father and there was that sucker punch to his chest.

He still looked the same.

“Of course, I do,” Timothy admitted. “Did you think I’d have blonde hair and less Nativeness?”

It offered calm to Wyler.

This was his Dad, and every now and again, a person needed to see their father.

For Wyler, it had been too long since he’d seen him, and truthfully, Timothy looked younger—like he remembered him in his younger days.

His face had no lines, and instead, his dark eyes held truths that Wyler had never learned because he was too busy with his life.

“You were offered the chance to learn it all,” Timothy said, leaning against a tree as he stared at his son. He could feel the sickness, and knew why this son had come for him.

Timothy spoke to Ethan all of the time, and in their moments, he heard all about Wyler. While proud he’d turned his life around, finally, there was still annoyance at some of the things he perpetuated.

How could there not be?

“I know, Dad. Now, though, I needed to see you.”

Timothy said nothing.

When he was summoned, it meant not being able to follow around Elizabeth, making sure she was safe. That was a full-time job.

When she was here, in the woods that he continually crept through, even after his death, it made his job so much easier.

There was no retirement in his death.

There was only more work to be done.

“Thank you for coming,” Wyler said. “I need someone to advise me. I have no one in my life I can ask.”

Timothy wasn’t amused.

Why?

What wouldn’t he give to have had more time to live? Only, his heart had given out well before his soul wanted to leave.

Now, his son was here, willing to take the easy way out. That didn’t sit well with him.

Not.

At.

All.

Unfortunately for everyone, and himself, Timothy had left too soon. He’d only gotten to hold CJ, Ethan’s first son, but none of the rest.

What wouldn’t he give to sit with Charlie and stare into his grandsons’ eyes, and his granddaughters’ too?

He’d missed out on a lot of things that his son was taking for granted. That was why he was hesitant to show up to talk to him.

Timothy was disappointed.

“Well, I’m here. Ask,” he said.

Wyler heard it.

“You’re angry with me.”

At his words, Timothy began walking, and Wyler fell into step with him. He wanted one more walk with his father before he met him in the Happy Hunting Grounds.

“I’m not angry, Wyler. I’m disappointed. That’s all,” he admitted. “Your mother is too. You’re the talk on the other side, as of late.”

That hurt Wyler’s heart.

He’d been a perpetual burden on his parents. When Naomi had passed, his world fell apart. Oh, he knew how Ethan felt when he lost Catherine.

He’d felt the same when he lost his own mother. That devastation of losing a parent—specifically the one who loved him the most—broke something in him.

And he’d not been as strong as Ethan to overcome it.

That haunted him that he’d done the same thing to his son that had happened to him.

He broke Ethan with his behaviors, and then Callen with his bad choices.

“Don’t even think that, Wyler. Callen James was a blessing, and I’m grateful that you made that choice to sleep with his mother. I wish we both would have gotten him away from her so much earlier. I can see that it only made him the man he is today. Ethan too.”

It was a little unnerving that Timothy was in his head.

“You called me here. That’s your burden to bear.”

Yes, yes, it was.

“Why are you disappointed, Dad?” he asked. “I made amends. I fixed all my mistakes, and I even found love again. I was able to get my sons to forgive me, and have had a good ten years.”

Timothy stopped.

When he turned, the forest grew silent. Even after death, Timothy Blackhawk was one not to mess with on the reservation.

He was a force of nature.

Because he went there, Timothy would too.

“I’m disappointed, Wyler, because you’re selfish.”

He blinked.

Okay, he wasn’t expecting that.

“For not wanting to suffer? For not wanting to make my family watch me be sick from the chemo? That makes me selfish?”

Timothy focused on the man, and he was honest with his son.

“It makes you selfish because you lured them here. You brought them here when their time in other places was important.”

Wyler said nothing.

So, his father continued.

“I can watch you all from the Happy Hunting Grounds. I can check in on all of you. I follow the Raven to make sure she’s safe.

What makes this selfish of you is that it endangers your family.

I understand not wanting to suffer, but they are suffering in your place.

They are carrying the burden that is yours to carry. ”

He stood there.

“You left DC and came here, which is your right, but how you did it, Wyler…of course, she’d follow.

The Raven is trying to keep you around so your grandchildren can have you.

You’re the last of the fathers in her life.

She’s trying to keep a grandfather here for the kids.

Someone has to show them how to hunt, and be Native—even the ones who don’t have a drop of our blood in them.

Their lives in the future will depend on what they learn now. ”

Wyler did feel guilty about that.

“They need your wisdom, passed down from me from my father. They need more than FBI rules and regulations. What they need is guidance. With each time you sit and make them cookies, you share the stories that will help them become who they are meant to be.”

Timothy waved his hand, and the branches of the tree swayed to make room for them.