Chapter Two
The Tipi
Same Time
Dream Walking
While this was something that he wanted, the truth be told, Wyler was nervous as hell, oh, and for some damn good reasons too. Taking a walk into the smoke to find his first wife, and make amends was huge.
The bottom line was he was worried about the fallout.
First, he and Ethan were still on shaky ground. There was no water under that bridge.
All of it was being held back by one hell of a dam—of anger.
There was no doubt in his mind that his one son, this particular one, was still angry with him for the stunt he’d pulled when he ran from DC.
And he didn’t know how to change that.
Oh, he’d tried.
And tried.
And tried.
But nothing was happening on that front. In all honesty, Wyler had apologized, and he’d tried his best to make amends, but some things took time.
His and Ethan’s relationship was likely going to be one of those things. All he could hope was that he’d have the time to see it be healed again.
The bottom line was that his eldest son held a wicked grudge on a good day.
On a bad day, it could make a grown man cry—and he was the grown man in this scenario.
And he wanted to weep with the best of them.
Having dealt with his son before, after he’d fucked up his life with his crappy choices, he was no stranger to the rage. Now, it was about riding it out.
What he wished he could do was make it all better, but that wasn’t happening.
Wyler knew that.
Oh, they were cordial, but what he wanted was for his son to not hold back with him, and hopefully, when they dream walked together, something would be the catalyst.
For healing.
Maybe Catherine would give him an idea of how he could heal what he’d broken all of those years ago.
What Wyler knew without a shadow of a doubt was that he should have gone and saved Ethan when CPS came and took him away.
He should have gone and picked him up instead of getting drunk. So now, as he was waiting to find a way to get Ethan to really forgive him, he had to just be cognizant of his feelings.
Wyler believed that maybe, if Ethan went to chemo with him, he’d soften up, but that hadn’t been the case.
He’d gone, but he’d waited in the car, and Chris and Elizabeth had gone in with him. If they had a good dream walk, maybe that would change.
After all, he had chemo on Monday, and he was flying home with the family this weekend.
“Thank you for doing this,” Wyler said.
Ethan glanced up.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said.
Ethan was ready to do this. For him, it was now or never. As the reservation Shaman, he’d likely be doing this a lot, so he might as well get that first trip out of the way.
He was dressed in a ceremonial shawl that Timothy always used when he walked in the smoke, and Ethan had claimed it, along with this role in the family, as his own.
It was time he started making the man proud.
“I hear you’re going to talk to Lance tomorrow,” Wyler said, trying to make small talk.
Blackhawk nodded as he got the smoke pot ready to go. They’d use that, and they’d actually smoke some peyote to get deep into the dream walk.
It was his preferred way to enter that realm.
“Yeah, I have to make my decision official. I think he assumes I’m coming to say I don’t want to do it, and that the Blackhawks are giving up their rights to being the reservation Shaman. Won’t he be surprised?” he asked, knowing no one was more surprised than him.
Wyler nodded.
“Likely. I’m glad you’re doing it,” he admitted. “Timothy would be proud.”
When he lifted his head, Ethan stared at him with cold eyes. In them, there was so much emotion.
The bottom line was this.
He was only doing this to keep the peace. If it were up to him, he and his father would have very little to say to each other. Just like he would have very little to say to Timothy if he had still been alive.
The weight of his past was weighing him down, and it was seeping into his personal life. Oh, and that was a problem for Ethan. Still, he couldn’t get out from under it.
Call him Grudgy McGrudgerson.
That was his other name.
Wyler saw the look. Oh, if he’d gotten that look once, he’d gotten it a million times from Ethan over the years they’d seen each other in his son’s youth.
“What?” he asked. “What did I say that pissed you off now?”
What didn’t he say?
That was the point.
“It would be nice if the man who made me, and didn’t want me, was proud,” he said. “Not the man I was pawned off to, who fucked me up even more.”
Oh, Jesus.
This powder keg was huge, and there was a match.
Wyler sat there.
At first, he was going to say nothing, but he was running out of time. Soon enough, there would be a bunch of nothingness from him.
So, he spoke his peace.
Let the powder keg blow.
“What do you want me to say that I already haven’t?
” he asked. “I don’t know how to make amends to you, Ethan.
I get it. You hate me. I know I’d be better off dead and out of your life.
I know that your wife wants me here for the kids and herself, not you.
You’ve made it abundantly clear that once more, I’m nothing to you.
When I’m gone, you’ve gotten your revenge.
You made me leave feeling what I’ve made you feel your whole life. ”
That caught him off guard.
Holy Hell’s bells.
It was rare Wyler said anything back. That was a quick whip of temper that he’d not encountered before. To Ethan, it sounded like something he would say.
Wyler wasn’t done.
“Oh, don’t be surprised,” he said, standing up.
“I’m well aware that we’re irrevocably broken.
I know we will never make our peace before I die.
I’ve tried, and I’ve failed. That will be my sin I carry into the afterlife.
I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said, suddenly meaning what they were going to try to do together.
Still, Ethan said nothing.
“Smoke walking to see Catherine should be something we do together to heal, and you’re not ready for it.
It won’t work because you hate me still.
I know how this works,” he said. “If I wasn’t such a piss poor human being, I’d be sitting in my father’s shawl and taking you for the walk, but life had other plans.
Me losing my mother early broke me just as much as you losing yours did.
My father was so lost in his grief, that I raised myself.
I was a child taking care of a child,” he said.
“So, of all people, I know exactly how you feel inside. I used alcohol to numb my pain. You use rage.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong, now was he?
Ethan didn’t speak.
“So, had fate been kinder, I would have had my mother for longer. I get your anger. I’m just not going to be your punching bag anymore. I’ve done that your whole life, afraid to piss you off, but I can’t be afraid anymore. You’re never going to love me, and I get it.”
That stung a little, and Ethan knew it.
Only, Wyler wasn’t done.
“I fucked up. I know that. I’ve apologized, and I stayed true to my word for fifteen years.
So much so, that you allowed me around your kids.
I know I backslid, and you’re angry again, but I can’t fight cancer and you.
I’ll stop bothering you, and talking to you.
We can exist as just acquaintances. I’ll give you what you want.
You hate me as your father, so I can stop being that.
You’ve made it abundantly clear that I’m the enemy.
I’ll finish the totem for your mother’s library and then, I’m going back to DC.
I’ll give up my time here on the reservation so you can heal.
I don’t want to do battle anymore. It makes me not want to fight to stay alive, and right now, I’m fighting each and every day to have a little more time for the people I love. ”
With that, he turned and walked out of the tipi, letting the flap close. Outside, he could hear Wyler talking to Demeter.
And he sat there.
What he said…it resonated.
There were no lies detected, that was for damn sure. Ethan was a nightmare when it came to anger on a good day. On a bad day, he was a bag of dicks.
It wasn’t easy to heal from that childhood trauma when you were faced with the person who propagated most of it—or who you believe did.
As he was about to clean up, and put the peyote away, something made him light the bowl of herbs, and let the smoke fill the tipi.
As he took deep breaths, he closed his eyes.
Maybe he’d find peace in the smoke.
Maybe he’d find the answer as to why he was so angry all of the time.
Because he knew something had to give.
Wyler hadn’t been wrong. He was angry at him, and he did hate him for the past. Coming here and staying here, had opened up all of those wounds all over again.
Still.
As the tipi filled with smoke, consciousness waned. The room began getting grayer and wavier.
And he began slipping beneath the smoke.
Ethan began a walk, and he kept his mind blank so he could let whatever needed to come through come through. He stayed silent, so he could hear anything that spoke to him.
He never knew what would happen in the smoke, but that was part of the fun.
It was anyone’s game.
When he finally opened his mind all of the way, he opened his eyes. How he dream walked in the smoke, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was he’d always been able to do it.
He’d yet to determine if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
That’s when he heard the very familiar voice.
“Hello, my boy.”
Ethan turned, and sitting not far away on a rock was a big, black raven. It morphed and shifted, becoming a human form, but the very dark eyes stayed.
They were Timothy’s eyes.
“Granddad?” he asked.
The man moved his arms, making his ceremonial robes flap in the air around him. It was very bird-like, and very much Timothy-like.
The Shaman was here.
Oh, well, this should be interesting.