Page 59

T he straight razor scraped against the whiskers on my father’s jaw.

A lovely breeze carried a melody from the wind chimes in the tree near the well.

I rinsed the razor in a bowl of warm water on the table next to us.

On the back deck, we had a spectacular view of the property.

Hope had planted flowers in the spring, so a number of planters and pots on the back deck had colorful Angelonias , Vincas , and Zinnias . The butterflies and bees loved them.

“Look at that,” my father said with a laugh.

Down in the yard, Tak was busy introducing a chicken to the pack to see if Catcher would eat it. If everything went well, he would test the other packmates.

As soon as Tak set the chicken onto the grass, Catcher barked at it.

The chicken flapped its wings and charged the wolf, who took off like a bullet.

Not a few seconds later, Catcher reappeared from the left side of the house after circling the property.

He barked again, but it was obvious he was playing with the bird, following his Packmaster’s guidance.

Tak laughed and hiked up the steps. “Looks like we’ll be having fresh eggs.”

I finished shaving the left side of my father’s face. The air was different today. August was always a hot month in Texas, but it felt strangely cooler—the same feeling that shrouds the air at the beginning of a solar eclipse.

My dad flicked shaving cream off his chin. “You better start chopping firewood to dry. I can feel winter coming.”

“It’s a thousand degrees.” I shook my head. “You say that every summer.”

Tak pulled up a chair and sat by us. “Some people in my tribe are the same. Something about the way the light changes.”

“It dims,” my father added while wiping his face and sitting up. “Everything has its time.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and I turned away from the sudden onslaught of emotions I’d been fighting all day.

“I don’t want none of that today.” My father gently patted my shoulder from where he sat beside me and then reached for his oxygen mask. “I’ve had the best summer here.”

We had built so many wonderful memories since moving into the house at the beginning of May.

My father had taken Lucian’s downstairs room, and because he was on the main floor, he was able to eat with us and play games.

Everyone loved him and took care of him as if he were their father.

I no longer had to check his oxygen levels or how he was feeling because someone else had already done it.

Sometimes I’d wake up early and find him at a small table in the dining room with Lucian, both men eating an early breakfast while my father told stories.

He loved listening to Bear play guitar, and sometimes Cici would read to him since his eyes weren’t what they used to be.

Our mating ceremony was simple yet beautiful. It had rained hard that day, which was unusual in midsummer, so we held the ceremony indoors. Candles were lit everywhere, and Lucian’s family had flown down.

His brothers were tall and friendly, each with a different personality.

One was mated to a woman with the greenest eyes I’d ever seen.

It was a wonderful family reunion. His Shifter brother had made us a wood carving of a man walking alongside a tiger.

Other friends attended, including a snarky British fellow in leather pants who had everyone playing Twister later that evening before Lucian and I retired to the heat house for privacy.

The summer days were long but blissful. I had never known such happiness, and none of it interfered with work.

The babies were learning new things each day, and my father got a real kick out of Violet’s little wolf.

Although she was genetically altered, my dad related a story to Joy of a pride of lions he knew in Africa who also had a baby with the same ability.

Joy seemed relieved knowing that Violet’s condition existed in nature and there might be others like her.

Being around children seemed to breathe new life into my father, and I couldn’t remember ever seeing him so happy.

His health had been deteriorating these past couple of weeks—the oxygen was no longer helpful.

He was coughing a lot, sleeping more, and not getting up as much as he used to from the bed.

This week his appetite vanished, and all he wanted were protein shakes and the occasional grape.

Salem said there was nothing we could do but make him comfortable.

Six days ago, my father and I had a serious talk.

He didn’t want to suffer any longer and was choosing to embrace his death.

Today was the day he would go on his final walk and leave us.

His only request was a traditional meal from his home—which I cooked for him—a clean shave, and a haircut.

To my surprise, he ate some of the food, but he was satisfied with watching us eat while telling his last story.

After wiping away my tears, I raised my head.

Tak made himself scarce and was talking to the pack in the yard.

My father wanted this to be a normal day—no tears—so Tak made sure to honor that.

Everyone stayed close, but no one felt this as deeply as I did.

Every moment with him was precious sand slipping through my fingers.

“Dad, it’s not too late to change your mind. You don’t need to do this today. Haven’t you been happy these past months?”

“Of course I have.” He took the oxygen mask away from his face. “This is the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time. Always someone to talk to, play games with… and plenty to eat. Plus I’ve gotten to spend all this time seeing how happy you are.”

I feigned a smile. “I can take a vacation. We’ll find a specialist who can help with your breathing.”

“That doesn’t make me any younger.” He adamantly shook his head.

“These aren’t my people. They’re yours. After living here, now I know you’ll be okay.

You have everything here I ever wanted for you.

I’m ready to go, child. Let me do it while I can still walk—while I still have my dignity and my memories intact.

I’ve walked this earth for over a thousand years. I’m tired.”

When I averted my eyes, I caught sight of Atticus looking away. He must have been listening in. I wished that someone would talk my father out of this, but during our pack meeting yesterday, Tak said it would only make it harder.

My father wiped off a small dab of shaving cream I’d missed by his ear. “I’ve had a rich life, and you were the best part. Before you, I had five sons. One died. Three of them grew up to be selfish.” He waved his hand. “I’ve tried to stay in touch, but they moved on with their lives and forgot me.”

“That’s not true.”

“You told them about today. Who came? Where are they?” He shaded his eyes and searched the yard.

I had only met my stepbrothers once. My father left them long after they were grown with their own families, but they didn’t have a close bond like we did. After hundreds of years apart, they simply didn’t know the man my father had become.

“You still have so much life left to live,” I reminded him.

“If you want to know what living is, it’s looking over the bow of a ship and watching the sun crest the ocean.

It’s helping people. It’s finding love. It’s the way your baby looks up at you and smiles for the first time.

It’s joy and adventure and hard work. Sitting in a bedroom isn’t life.

I’m ready for my next adventure.” He held my hand tightly in his.

“I’m not afraid; you are. It’s time for you to let me go. My tiger wants his final walk.”

“But he can’t hunt.”

“Then leave food offerings out. That’s what my ancestors did. I have to honor my animal and let him say goodbye to this world. We both know there’s more after this life.”

“ I don’t know that. We’ll never see each other again.”

He took another breath from his oxygen mask and dropped his hand in his lap. “Walk with me.”

When I helped him stand, I held him so tight that I never wanted to let go.

“Live a good life,” he said against my neck. “Help people. Be a good person and do great things.”

“I can’t promise we’ll have children, but I’ll teach the little ones here your language.”

He chuckled softly and leaned away. “Tak is already learning. Did you know that? He comes in every night and we have lessons. Fast learner. Yes, he is.”

I jerked my head back. “I didn’t know that.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know. And when I’m gone and others begin telling stories about me, you’ll learn new things. Now help me down these steps so I don’t tumble into the grass like a fool. That’s not how I want to make my grand exit,” he said on a laugh.

As we moved toward the steps, Tak bounded up and took my father’s other hand.

When he stepped onto the green grass, my dad gestured to the chicken. “Take that thing out of here or my tiger might have it for a snack.” He laughed at Lakota, who chased it in a circle before snatching it up. After coughing a few times, he struggled to catch his breath.

The next thing I knew, Lucian was there with the oxygen tank, giving my dad his final relief.

After a few deep breaths, my dad held on to me. “Bury me where you find me. Our tigers choose our final resting place. As it should be.”

Lucian scratched his jaw. “Just don’t go on the neighbor’s property.”

“Didn’t plan on walking that far.” My father pulled Lucian into a hug, and Lucian looked uncomfortable from the unexpected affection but gave in to it and hugged him back. “Take care of my little girl. I love you, son.” Then he turned to me once more.

Tears streamed down my face. “How will we know when you’re gone? I can’t just leave you out there.”

“I’ll let out a roar when the sun comes up and when it goes down. If you miss one, come find me. But it won’t be long. I can feel my people all around me.”

Tak joined us and put his hands on my father’s shoulders. “It was an honor having you stay with us. We’ll carry your memory—you won’t be forgotten.”

My dad smiled. “I know I won’t. I hung my picture in the hallway when you weren’t looking.”

Everyone chuckled through the awkward silence, but tears glittered in their eyes. They had all formed their own special bond with him.

I stepped into his embrace.

His grip tightened. “I will always love you. Always. Death won’t change that. You have to let me go in your heart,” he insisted. “A thousand years is more than enough time.” Then he told me he loved me in his language.

“I love you too. I love you forever.”

In a swirl of Shifter magic, my father morphed into his beautiful tiger. I hadn’t seen him in years. His dark eyes were duller than I remembered, but he was still magnificent. Dark stripes marked his orange-and-white coat, the unique patterns around his eyes giving him an expressive appearance.

I crouched in front of him and stroked his neck while he licked me with his rough tongue. “Take care of each other.”

After stroking his nose and memorizing his face with my hands, I forced myself to finally let go and give him the goodbye that he needed.

He could always change his mind and wander back, but for him, this was more honorable than dying in a bed, imprisoned by walls.

My father could remember his entire shift, so he would be in the sunshine or moonlight, surrounded by Mother Nature.

I wasn’t sure if he would die in animal or human form, but at least for now, his tiger would take on the suffering.

As he swung his head and glanced at the pack, he ambled alongside the pasture fence at a slow gait until he disappeared through the distant trees.

Every step he took felt like a permanent footprint on my heart, but in those final moments, I reflected on our life together.

The laughter, the love, the stories and the trips.

He’d truly lived a blessed life. Not a perfect one, but he did the very best he could and lived longer than most could ever dream.

The pack stood alongside the fence and watched. Others came over and gave me long hugs with comforting words.

Catcher loped behind my father at a safe distance, and I knew he would keep an eye on him.

“My people have a similar custom,” Tak remarked. “Mostly it’s the old ones who like to go that way. We may resist leaving this world, but our animals know when it’s time. He’ll walk with his ancestors until they shepherd him to the next life.”

Lucian put his arm around me. “I think your tiger should go out tonight and find him. She needs closure too, doesn’t she?”

That made me feel miles better. My cat hadn’t seen his in a long time, and that might’ve contributed to my difficulty in letting go.

She wanted out—she wanted to say goodbye to her father.

“You must,” Tak agreed. “When your tiger finds peace with it, so will you. Tomorrow morning will feel different than it does now. Hurt less.”

Hope joined us and handed the baby to Tak. “I think you should go to him now. Let them roam together one last night.”

I nodded, grateful for their understanding and support.

My father’s ways were deeply rooted in his tribal customs, which were often vastly different from how young Shifters lived.

But when I put myself in his shoes, I could see why he’d chosen this ending.

I kept thinking that one more day or week or month or year with me wouldn’t hurt, but maybe it did.

With haste, I shifted into my animal and roared—a call that sought out my father like a beacon. In the distance, a weaker roar sounded as my father summoned me to join him.