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I wasn’t entirely sure what had happened last night when I had asked Adrian a few questions about Greece and his childhood, but I wouldn’t make the mistake again. I also wouldn’t allow his reaction to ruin the weekend plans I was about to have with my father.

Just a short flight up the coast meant I could see him whenever I wanted, and since he had moved to Portland to get away from my mother over a decade ago, I made a point to fly up at least once a quarter.

Stepping out of the airport into the cool Oregon air, I immediately spotted the black Range Rover parked curbside. He flashed the lights twice, but I was already walking toward him, my smile growing wide while I watched his six-foot-two-inch frame unwind out of the driver seat. When I reached the tailgate of the SUV, he immediately enfolded me into a bear hug and the familiar feel of his arms around me felt like home.

Robert Davis was the finest man I knew, which is why my mother and he couldn’t stay married. He was too good for her. I only wished I could have lived with him instead of her, but that would have meant leaving Blair and there was no way I would have done that to my sister. My bitch of a mother knew that, too.

“There’s my girl. Hi, Punkin,” he said, giving me another tight squeeze. Releasing me, he took a step back before grabbing the one large duffle I brought with me. I had never been one to need a ton of luggage.

“Hi, Daddy. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, baby. I’ve already got breakfast lined up for us at Sweedeedee.”

“ Good, because I am starving. I didn’t even go to bed last night since I had to be at the airport so early. I just took a nap on the couch until my ride share arrived.”

We chatted on the way to my favorite diner, covering a variety of topics from Lug Nut, my new job, my new boss, the latest update on Randall, Dad’s latest trip… anything and everything except the main reason why I made the trip this specific weekend: Today was Blair’s birthday.

My father wasn’t her biological father, but he had raised her for the most important part of her life and for all intents and purposes had been her Dad, too. They had loved each other as much as he and I did, so I know he was grieving her loss as well. I didn’t want either one of us to be alone on this first birthday without her.

After being seated and placing our orders, we held hands and just enjoyed being in each other’s company for several moments. Part of me wanted to talk to him about Adrian and ask for advice, but I knew if I did, I would immediately bias my father against him and that wouldn’t be fair.

“You’ve got something on your mind, Punkin?”

I shrugged and hoped I could make this sound casual. “I’m still trying to figure out my new boss. No big deal. He’s got a few quirks. Likes things a certain way, you know? And I may have to learn Japanese.”

My dad grinned and asked if learning Japanese meant I would get to go to Japan. I nodded. “I believe so. The former assistant, the woman who trained me, said that it would be expected. She wasn’t able to travel because her husband has medical issues. That was why she retired. She needed to spend more time with him.”

“Needed to spend… oh. Man, that’s rough,” my dad said.

“I know. She’s a very nice woman. She worked for Mr. Benedict for quite a long time. Gave me some good intel. I’ve got a notebook full of tips and tricks.”

The food arrived then and my eyes widened when I saw how much was on my plate. I had apparently forgotten that the portions were large enough to feed over-the-road truckers here. My scrambled eggs with black beans and potatoes came out smoking hot, as did Dad’s breakfast sandwich. We left an hour later with full stomachs and full hearts after catching up a bit.

As we headed toward his house, I knew we would pass by my favorite country chapel which stayed open for anyone who wanted to wander in for a prayer, a private confession, or to light a candle. I felt the need for two of the three.

“Dad, would you stop at that chapel that I like, please?”

He glanced at me sideways, but didn’t say no. In the distance, I saw the white steeple and my heart began to beat faster as the building grew larger. Finally, we were there and he pulled into the parking lot.

It was as I remembered from the first time I had seen it right after he had moved to Portland and he was driving me around showing me the area. A traditional white church with stained glass windows, it had felt welcoming the second I stepped inside back then. The same was true this morning.

I inhaled from my spot at the back of the sanctuary, the familiar scents of pine and lemon cleaners strangely bringing me comfort. My dad stood in the doorway, and I could feel his eyes on me while I walked to the table of candle arches. A number of votives had already been lit even at this time of the morning, and I was about to add two more. The first one I lit was actually for Adrian, and I sent up prayers that he could eventually turn loose of whatever he was wrestling with. The second candle was for my sister. I went to the altar rail for this prayer because it was going to take me longer. Her soul was not at rest and my biggest desire was for her to find peace.

While I knelt, I felt the cushion give way beside me and my dad joined me there. His shoulders shook with grief, so I clasped one of his hands with mine while we silently said our respective prayers in that beautiful chapel. I sensed movement behind us and assumed a member of the clergy was waiting to see if we needed to speak with someone. While I appreciated the gesture, we wouldn’t be speaking with anyone today. Once we were finished, I rose, walking to the offering box by the candle table, leaving a generous donation so this chapel could hopefully continue to operate for years to come.

After thanking the pastor with a nod, we left, riding in silence back to my father’s house. The energy in the SUV was different. Not a bad different, just different. I knew what had just occurred in that little church had opened the door for us to openly talk about Blair as we had needed to do for months.

This would be a good, healing visit for both of us. I had a feeling that while there would be a lot of sadness, he and I would also be able to find happiness and joy in the memories that we had made with Blair over the years. No one would ever be able to take those from us.

Sunday night, after an hour flight delay from Portland, I managed to make it back home and to pick up Lug Nut from my neighbor mere minutes before the thunderstorm started. I had been worried that my plane wasn’t going to be able to land because of the lightning, but it had held off long enough to get me back home.

I’d had an emotional time with my dad. The first birthday without my sister had now passed, and after the unpleasant way Friday night had ended between us, Adrian hadn’t reached out to me one time over the weekend. Granted, I wasn’t exactly his responsibility, but I had somewhat hoped he might have at least tried to see how I was doing.

I spent quite a bit of time with the dog just hugging his neck and telling him how much I had missed him. I already felt guilty during the week for leaving him with the neighbor so much, though from the “report cards” and pictures I got each day, they both enjoyed the male bonding. I know Erik was certainly enjoying the cookie payment he got every two weeks.

The wind began to pick up and I could hear rain begin to pelt harder against the windows. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the boomers growing closer together. It was predicted we’d have this weather for the next several hours. I didn’t mind a good thunderstorm as long as I didn’t have to be out in it. The dog didn’t mind it either, thank goodness.

I decided the best thing for me to do on a night like this was to take a nice, hot bath. Lug Nut padded along behind me while I walked to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine, then he followed me toward the bathroom. I wasn’t motivated to start unpacking in the slightest. I was mentally, physically, and emotionally spent, and just needed some self-care. Hopefully, the bath would enable me to actually shut down and get some sleep before facing Adrian in the morning. I wouldn’t be able to handle him unless I was fully charged.

What scent did I want to use in my bath water tonight? Standing in nothing more than a silk kimono, I picked up jar after jar of bath salts, not happy with anything in my selection. Finally resigning to use a blend with lavender, I set it, along with my wine glass, on the rim of the tub and went to turn on the tap when the dog’s body language changed.

His ears went up and he got very still, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He was now in full-on protect mode. This didn’t happen very often, so I was immediately worried. Glancing at the front door camera monitor I had on the vanity; I went still also. Adrian Benedict was standing on my front porch, and he was now ringing my doorbell.