Chapter One: Ghosty

The idea of the wolf was dreamlike at best the next morning. Will groggily got up and got ready for work. He had just about forgotten about everything that had taken place if it hadn't been for the speckles of red that was on his pajama shirt. It had somehow transferred in his dazed stumble to bed last night.

Will looked at the red for a long time before everything clicked into place. It had happened. He'd have to make a call to Michael when he went on lunch break and had a moment to spare. As for Clara… it was almost 5:30 in the morning, but he'd try and get home earlier than normal to talk with her about what happened. It pained him that he had to load so much more work on himself the next day in order to do that, but he felt he had no other choice. Clara needed to know that the wolf might not make it—and that, in the end, it wouldn't be her father's fault.

Will was certain he hadn't misread Michael's expression. The wolf had lost a lot of blood, and he didn't have much chance for survival. It was a miracle the poor beast had lasted that long. Perhaps instead of the what ifs, Will would end up having to tell her that the wolf hadn't survived the night.

A sick twisting in his gut formed—he really didn't want to be the one to break the news to her.

At work, he did his best not to dwell on the topic. He buckled down and attempted to get last night's work and everything else done as fast as he could. Every now and then, however, his thoughts went back to Clara crying as she held the wolf. You're a doctor, Daddy. Heal him! And the wolf, climbing to his paws even though he had no strength left. He had glared at Will, jabbed at him with his nose, and forced him to follow as though saying: Come on, you idiot. Let's not keep the girl waiting.

By the time lunch rolled around, Will was already exhausted. He had gotten a lot of work done, but he still felt like he had made no progress at all. It was all he could do to remember to call Michael for the bad news. He was already feeling horrible and guilty at the thought of his daughter's accusing gaze.

"Hey, Will!" Michael greeted him, sounding a tad too cheerful for the circumstances. "'Sup?"

Will felt like he was swallowing a golf ball. "Hello, Michael."

"Dude, great news!" Mike continued, not at all phased by his brother's blue attitude. "And it's about the wolf too, so you can stop sounding like you're marching to your own funeral. He made it through the night!"

Will missed a beat. "What?"

Once started, Michael could not be slowed down. "I have no clue how he did it—and believe me, I know. I was monitoring him all night long—but he's already strong enough to lick his own wounds. Had to put a cone on the poor devil, and you can just see it in his eyes that he hates me for it. For better or for worse, though, his wounds already look like they're healing up nicely. Clare might just end up with the boy sooner than you thought."

Will couldn't believe his ears. He was sure he was gaping wide enough to catch flies. "What?"

Michael busted out laughing. "What?" he mimicked Will's voice. "C'mon, Will! You can show a little more enthusiasm than that! Clara wanted the wolf, didn't she? Well, it seems like she can have him!"

"What!" He snapped out of the trance he had been in. He didn't have to tell Clara that the wolf had passed away—but he most certainly had no intention of letting the wolf stay. "It's a wild animal, Mike!"

"Well, yes," Mike admitted. "But here I am having to put him through human care in order for him to heal, and Clara most certainly will want to see him again. By legal standards, he'll soon be categorized as a danger to public safety if he gets too cozy with humans."

"But Mike," Will said. "Surely you can understand—I don't want a pet. The housekeepers can only handle so much, and I really don't want the extra burden."

"Oh, c'mon Will!" Mike said. "At least have a talk with Clare before you jump the gun. She's the one who wanted so badly for him to recover. You should at least take it up with her before you try and get this wolf put into some kind of zoo just because you didn't want to feed another mouth."

Will gritted his teeth. Counted to ten. "Fine," he said. He slowly exhaled; his hand was gripping his cellphone so tightly he was afraid it might break. "I'll talk with Clara this afternoon. I was already planning to do that, anyway. Just… Ugh, just don't try and talk with her before I get the chance, would you? I don't want her getting any ideas."

"Sure," Michael said. "But I'm pretty sure she already had the idea, Will. You'll be arguing to a stubborn six year old who wants a friend. Honestly, with all I know—you'll be arguing with a younger version of yourself! I remember how you were when you were little, kid. Just keep that in mind, 'kay?"

Will had stopped listening. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Hey, I'll talk to you later, Mike. If something happens, let me know."

There was a sigh on the other end of the receiver. "I will, kid. Don't get yourself into trouble with Clare, alright? She might tear you to pieces."

"I'll take my chances. Have a good day, brother."

After lunch, a new fear arose:

She'll want the wolf.

No, that was wrong. The fear had always been there, but it had been tucked as far away as possible until the wolf's fate had been exposed. Before, the beast had no chance of survival. Turns out it survived—and now Clara would want the wolf.

No matter how much Will felt like it was the least he could do to let her have him, he still didn't want to take care of anything else. Another burden to carry—another life to ruin, just like with Katherine.

Will sighed and covered his face with his hands, forgetting about the piles of work for him to finish. Perhaps she had been right, those years ago. He loved Clara, but it was difficult. Without a mother, a child was deprived of everything. Especially when her father worked early-day, late-night jobs like Will did.

Perhaps the wolf wasn't such a bad idea after all. Well, maybe not a wolf. A dog or cat, perhaps? Something that could keep her company but not be a potential danger to her safety.

Will sat back in his chair and scratched his temple, deep in thought. Mike told him to let Clara give her thoughts. Will knew she really wanted a pet—in fact, the incident with the tissue-paper note wasn't entirely new. She snuck out to seek some stray animal she saw lurking in the backyard woods more than a couple times before. But Will had always refused the animals when Clara asked to have them. It was too much to worry about, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

Frowning, Will turned and looked out of his office window. It was gently flurrying, the dashes of white against the dull grey of the clouds a strangely soothing sight. A block away from the hospital, just in the edge of his vision from where he sat, the snow-covered arch of the town park peeked from around the ice cream shop Clara loved when she was younger. He wondered if she still liked getting ice cream from there. If she ever yearned to play with him and her mother again in the park. Katherine had always promised the girl a dog, but only if she promised to take care of him.

"I will, Mama!" Clara replied, cheeks rosy from the late autumn air. She was smiling so wide, her blue eyes alight with enthusiasm and excitement. "I promise, I'll take great care of him! Can we take him here to play fetch?"

Katherine had laughed. "Only if you teach him to fetch, honey."

Then she turned her head, red-tinged brown hair glinting in the sparse sunlight, and looked at Will. She was smiling a calm, easy smile. One Will wouldn't see again for a long time.

"What do you say, Will?" she asked. "Do you think we can trust her promise?"

A knock drew Will from his brooding. He snapped his head around and looked at the door. With an exhale, he sagged back into his chair. "Kayla," he greeted, eyeing the papers on his desk. He still had a lot of work to do, and the sun was already starting to sink below the building horizon.

Kayla glanced out of the window as though curious as to what had held his attention for so long, before she looked back at him. "Will," she said. She adjusted the clipboard in her hands. "It's half-passed five already. Shouldn't you get home?"

Will frowned. He looked between her and the clock. "Who told you I needed to be home?"

"You were pretty loud at lunch," she said. "You were talking with Michael, weren't you? How is he nowadays?"

"Well enough," Will grunted. He looked back at the mountain of work still to be finished.

Kayla placed her hand on his shoulder. "Forget about it, Will," she said, as though reading his thoughts. "You're already weeks ahead of time. You can survive another afternoon to yourself. It sounded like you really needed to go and see your daughter, anyway. Come on, I'll sign you out right now. Up! Up!" She pulled him to his feet.

Will stumbled at the sudden movement, catching himself before he could collapse to the floor. He sighed and looked at the work again. He'd have so much work to do tomorrow.

But he let Kayla lead him out of the building nonetheless.

The trip home was just as cold and miserable as the day before—just brighter and with more traffic. But he made it home in one piece. His butler seemed surprised to see him pull into the garage early, though. His hand with the handkerchief fluttered about his face as he waited for Will to come into speaking distance.

"Mr. Solace," Fenwick said.

"I know," Will cut off whatever Fenwick would have said next. "Where could I find Clare?"

"I-In her room, of course," the man said. He folded his handkerchief and stuffed it into his breast pocket. "If I may be so bold, Mr. Solace...this wouldn't happen to concern last night, would it?"

"It would," Will replied.

Fenwick said nothing else, as though those two words held every answer in the world. He turned and led Will into the mansion, to Clara's room. The man knocked on the door. "Miss Clara? Miss Clara, are you there?"

"I'm here, Fenwick!" Clara's voice came from within. From inside, Will could hear her jump to her feet and skip to the door. Then her blonde head popped into the hallway. "Did you come here to pl—Daddy?"

Will tried to smile at Clara's stunned stare, but he was certain it looked strained. "Hello, Clare. Did you have fun at school?"

Clara seemed to not hear him. Her face suddenly brightened and she swung open the door with such force that Fenwick had to leap into action to save the wall from collision. "He called you! Uncle Mike called you! He did, didn't he?! How's Ghosty? Is he okay?"

"Ghosty?" Will wondered.

Clara grinned and nodded, showing off a missing tooth. "It's his name! Ghosty!"

An uneasy knot formed in Will's gut. She already had a name for the wolf. "Come on, Clare," he said as patiently as he could. He gestured down the hall. "Let's go on a walk. I have to talk to you."

Clara's smile fell. "Did he… Did Mike…?"

Will exhaled. "The wolf is fine," he reassured her. Clara brightened again as though her previous expression had never existed, willing to follow her father as he walked down the hallway. The knot in Will's stomach eased somewhat. At least she wasn't blaming the wolf's death on him.

But now—the hard part came.

"But…" he began, already beginning to regret his next words. "Were you intending him to be your pet?"

Clara turned to him, eyes wide with consideration. Will felt like he was being scrutinized. "No," Clara said, surprising her father. "But," she continued before Will could sigh in relief, "I did want him to stay with us."

Will frowned. "As a pet," he said, confused.

Clara shook her head, stopping them before they could step out into the courtyard. A crisp breeze snuck through the doggy flap—Will had put it there when Katherine had first mentioned getting a dog, and he had never had the heart to get rid of it. He had invested himself too deeply into his work. "Ghosty isn't a pet," she said, a determined light gleaming in her eyes. "Neither are any of the dogs I tried to convince you to let me keep. I'm six, Dad. I want a friend, not a pet."

That statement seemed far too old for her years. Will swallowed and tried to compose himself. "You have friends at school," he reminded her.

"Maybe," she admitted. Her eyes flickered away for a moment. "But Ghosty… Didn't you see it, Daddy? He was all alone. I don't want anyone to be alone, Daddy."

Will sighed weakly. He laid a hand on her shoulder, kneeling down to her level so he could better look her in the eyes. "But say that he has friends out there." He gestured out the courtyard doors, out into the wild. "Would you really want him to be away from them?"

Clara's eyes teared up. "I know that, Daddy," she whispered. She looked down at her shoes, at a loss for what to say. "I just… I just wanted him to have a friend while he was recovering…"

"You mean a temporary companion?" Will asked.

Clara nodded.

The knot in Will's stomach twisted, then eased despite the chaos whirling in his head. "Well, if it's only for a little while…" he said quietly. He pushed his eyebrows together in thought.

The girl looked up.

Will smiled. He tried to ignore the guilt he felt for the tears trailing down Clara's cheeks. "How about this," he said. "Tomorrow is Saturday, right?"

"Yes, Daddy," Clara replied, confusion and curiosity etched into her face.

Will nodded to himself. "I'll skip work," he said, surprised by his own words. He never skipped work—ever. Leaving early twice in a row in itself was strange. But he was willing to sacrifice for the sake of his daughter. If a temporary friend was all she was asking for, rather than one that would last for years—Will could make himself live with that. He just hoped the housekeepers could handle the extra work. "I'll call Uncle Mike tonight, and we can go and visit the wolf—erm, Ghosty—in the morning. Then we can perhaps talk about taking him home soon and monitor him as he recovers... How does that sound?"

It was like Will had flipped a switch. At one moment the girl had been puzzled and worried, and at the next moment she was grinning and hopping on her toes. She cried out her excitement and hugged her father after a fit of dancing and giggling.

Will couldn't breathe. Clara hadn't hugged him since Katherine.

"Yes yes yes yes yes!" she chanted, bouncing on her heels. "Thank you Daddy! Thank you!" She hugged him tighter, her entire form trembling with energy.

Will could only nod and manage a small "you're welcome" before she was running down the hall, to her room, yelling at the top of her lungs how she would get her homework done as soon as possible so they could see Ghosty. Fenwick appeared at the end of the hallway, clearly frazzled by the exclamation.

Clara turned back to her father before she disappeared around the corner, and she waved. "I love you, Daddy!" she called.

Those three words made everything that happened next worth it.

~ΨΩΨ~

*waves* You can review/comment if you want. I won't bite, I swear.