Page 3 of In the Mouth of the Wolf

Thankfully there weren’t many witnesses to my detached staring. Since it was Black Friday, I assumed most people were probably at their nearest Walmart, fighting their neighbors to the death over a discounted TV.

Those who did pass by eyed me suspiciously though, sniffing the air in my direction. I subtly checked my armpits when no one was looking, but my deodorant was doing its job. Was it that obvious I wasn’t a local? Sure, I hadn’t been up to this part of the state before, but I had spent most of my life in Wisconsin. I was raised on beer brats and Blue Moon ice cream.

Finally, a little after nine, a man came out of an office, calling my name. He was quite tall, with short, sandy blonde hair and brown eyes. I couldn’t help but notice how well he filled out his khaki chinos and navy half-zip sweater.

My mind wandered briefly, wondering what his chest looked like underneath his top. WhatIwould look like underneath his…

God, what was wrong with me? I always noticed a good-looking man, who didn’t? But since I had met Mike, I hadn’t really noticed so… intently. I was an engaged woman dealing with my dad’s body, and here I was, practically drooling over the physique of my bereavement counselor, of all people.

“Good morning, Ms. Linden. I’m Oliver Alderwood. We spoke on the phone yesterday.” I recognized his voice, of course, but today there was a richness to its timbre I hadn’t noticed before. It was soothing yet powerful, like a strong massage pulling the stress from my body.

My eyes fell to the hand he held out for me to shake, and as I took it my mind flashed to other ways he could be massaging me, and then I mentally slapped myself. I needed to get a grip.

Or do you want him to get a grip on you?

I bit my cheek to keep grounded and steadied my expression as he continued talking. I didn’t remember horniness being one of the stages of grief, but this man was making me feel depraved enough to add it to the list - somewhere between ‘denial’ and ‘anger,’ perhaps?

“I’ll be helping you with everything you need to take care of your father. His attorney has also been contacted. He’s on his way from Chicago now. I understand Mr. Linden had already set all of his funeral arrangements, so thankfully you won’t have to deal with too much paperwork today.”

My dad had been so put together he had an attorney? And funeral arrangements? Yet somehow couldn’t even remember to send a birthday card?

The look of confusion must have been more obvious on my face than I thought. “I know this is a difficult time. Why don’t we head to my office? We can speak in private there.”

I shook my head, unwrapping my scarf and tossing my hair over my shoulder. “Can I see him first?”

His nostrils flared and his pupils dilated for a second before returning to normal, like I had said something wrong or offensive. Had I accidentally pissed him off? Was I being too blunt, or did I seem too cavalier? “Of course. Just follow me,” he replied, his voice becoming even deeper.

The halls were quiet and empty, the sounds of my boots clacking along the vinyl flooring and the errant beep from a machine the only signs of life in the early morning hours. Even Oliver managed to walk with a preternatural silence. I chalked it up to his career. He was probably used to making his presence as unnoticeable as possible. For a man of his size, it was impressive.

We entered the room, my heart pounding as I eyed the body on the bed, sheet pulled up to his shoulders. One would think that after not seeing your dad for twenty plus years, he would seem smaller than you remembered him. Yet he still looked like a giant – although not quite as big as Ezra had been. When my twin brother had shot up to over a foot taller than me in high school, I had often joked that he stole all the height genes in the womb. At five-foot-three, I had tapped out a couple inches shorter than my mom.

I compelled myself to step closer and inspected his face. The years had been kind, and if I didn’t know any better, I would have placed him at closer to forty than his real age of sixty. His hair, the same shade of strawberry blonde as mine, was still quite thick. A short, well-maintained beard covered his face, his mouth set in a thin line.

Recognition hit me like a freight train carrying memories long buried from my childhood, and a sob finally made its way through my chest. Oliver placed his arm around me. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

I normally didn’t like strangers touching me, but I found him comforting and welcomed his warm yet professional embrace. Even his scent, mint and lavender, had a calming effect. I allowed myself to let go of the shock, the sadness, the fury… expressing every complicated feeling I’d ever had about my dad, right there in that room.

Oliver stood by my side without saying another word, allowing me to expel it all.

Why was I grieving for a man who hadn’t even wanted to be a part of my life? I had a few happy memories from when I was little, when I had thought he was the greatest dad ever.

But great dads didn’t abandon their kids.

I took in one more deep, shuddering breath, wiping my cheeks with the palms of my hands. “Thanks, I’m good now.”

He nodded and led me back down to his office, where I was given a bottle of water and a box of tissues.

“Thanks, Mr. Alderwood,” I said. “I’m sorry you had to come in on a holiday for this.”

He shook his head. “Please, call me Oliver. And it’s no problem at all. I knew of your father before he was brought in. He’s done a lot of good work in our community, and it’s an honor helping his daughter.”

I raised an eyebrow and let out a sniffling, skeptical laugh. Somehow, I’d always pictured him as the stereotypical deadbeat dad – living in a shitty studio apartment, drinking away his paychecks and skipping out on child support. What kind of good work could he have been doing all the way up here?

“I have his belongings, if you’d like to take them. He was found at home, so he didn’t have anything on him when he was brought in aside from the clothes he was wearing and his wedding band.”

Wedding band? Why would he still have worn his wedding band?

Okay, the pieces were coming together now. “That explains it. Did he remarry and have a second family up here or something? Where’s his other wife?”

---