Walter’s shoulders sagged, but he nodded.

“I never quite know what the boy is up to.” Dorothy patted me on the back as she walked to Dad. “He’s just headed home now.”

Taking the cue, I grabbed the notebook and headed for the door. I couldn’t ask Dad about the voicemail now anyway. I needed him lucid and not hating me. Hell, I would have taken either at the moment.

“It really is good to see you,” Dad told me with a warm smile.

For that millisecond, I let myself pretend he was actually talking to me. That he had missed me and wanted me home.

“You too.”

I exited quickly, grabbed my shoes, and took them out on the porch, sitting on the steps to get them on. The door opened and shut behind me as I finished with the second one.

“That must have been tough,” Walter said as he sat beside me, resting his forearms on the knees of his dress pants.

“Which part? Him not knowing who I was? Or him being happy to see me?” I looked over the driveway to the break in the pines where the mountains showed through. “It’s all fine.”

He looked at me and sighed. “You know, I think it doesn’t matter that we’re grown men. There’s always a part of us that looks for our father’s acceptance, his approval. Even if we don’t recognize it or even fight it, it still stings when it doesn’t come.”

“I gave up on that a long time ago, Walt.”

“Even so, I’m glad you’re here, Cam.”

“That makes one of you.”

“Art is happy, too. He just can’t always show it.”

“He literally shot me the day before yesterday.” My chest ached like hell.

He cringed. “Okay, well…” His eyes met mine. “Honestly, I’ve got nothing.”

“It’s okay.” I stood, savoring the chill in the air as the wind kicked up. “I’d rather he treat me like he did just now. I can help him a lot more if I’m not dodging bullets.”

“He’s pretty hit-or-miss these days, not going to lie. Half the time I’m up here, he knows who I am but might confuse what year it is, like you just saw.”

“And the other half?”

“Those days are tougher. If you’d told me a decade ago that Arthur Daniels would lose his mind to early-onset Alzheimer’s, I would have laughed you off the mountain. Not as stubborn and strong-willed as he is.”

There was a lot about this last decade I wouldn’t have believed. Losing Sullivan was at the top of that list.

“How’s Simon?” I asked, trying to remember my manners and change the subject at the same time.

Walt grinned. “That boy is something else. He’s practicing family law in Buena Vista now.”