Absentee Arboreal Father

20251106

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

Honestly? I didn’t expect him to show up. I mean, he’d never been there for me. Didn’t even come to Mum’s funeral. He sent her money every month - the amount required by law, plus a little extra at Christmas and my birthday and whenever she was having trouble finding work. But never included a message. Or even a card.
Yet here I was. Standing next to a picturesque little waterfall in a charming park the other side of the country from where I grew up. Waiting to meet the man who sired me.
Why? I wasn’t sure. I guess I wanted answers. Closure.
Mum would be livid. She always told me never to try and find him. It was actually Ian - the guy I’ve thought of as “dad” for over a decade - who saved the address when she was burning things.
“I’m sure she had her reasons.” He told me, his voice faltering and expression conflicted. “But I just… it didn’t feel right. Keeping that from you forever. I felt you ought to make the choice.”
That filched slip of paper lived in my wallet for another few years before I felt ready. When I finally sent a letter I was braced for silence. If nothing else, the guy might have moved. But no. I got a response - a postcard. Of this waterfall. A suggested time and date. And “I’ll bring a picnic”.
A picnic. Sure. Perfectly normal thing to do with your daughter. Just… a weird way to connect with a stranger whose very existence you’re responsible for and whom you’ve never spoken to before.
I shift back and forth, my feet tapping on the wooden deck. My backpack’s heavy and hot with sweat. It was quite a walk. A lovely one, especially in this gorgeous weather, but I’m definitely ready for that picnic.
Assuming he shows up.
C’mon, Katie, give the guy a chance. You got here way early. Meet isn’t for another… fourteen minutes.
I sigh. Swing my bag off. Flump onto a bench.
Maybe this was a mistake. Mum was firm about avoiding him. And meeting in a remote place like this? Well suss. I’ve wondered a few times if he’s a serial killer or something and Mum was trying to protect me.
I should’ve told someone I was doing this. Should’ve at least told Ian. But… I knew if I did, he’d insist on coming. It’s the sensible, correct thing to do.
Yet I didn’t want him to come. I needed to do this myself. But now I’m actually here the butterflies in my stomach are turning into warning hornets.
Too late to back out, I tell myself. He’ll be here any-
“Katelin?”
The dulcet baritone jolts me upright. I hadn’t heard footsteps.
Standing by the waterfall, where there’s no path, as if he stepped out of the rock wall itself, is a… man.
He’s carrying a very rustic picnic basket which I’m like ninety-nine percent sure he wove himself. This morning. The twigs still look fresh.
He’s tall. Shaggy brown hair. Very tanned. And muscular, which is super obvious because he’s only wearing some kind of leather kilt.
Oh, and… he has antlers.
“Uhhhh…”
The… man… gives an uncomfortable grin. “Um. Yeah. Sorry, I probably should’ve… dropped hints? I just… couldn’t think of any way to put ‘btw I’m a forest god’ in a letter. I thought it’d sound crazy. Or worse, that I was trying to blow you off.”
“I… uh… fair?” I manage. My head spinning.
He slowly approaches. Like I might startle. Clopping sounds make me glance down.
Hooves. Ok, so he definitely didn’t sneak past me to the waterfall. Or maybe he did. Sounds like something a… forest god… could do.
I examine myself. Wiggle my toes in my hiking boots. “I, er, really took after mum, huh?”
“Well, yeah.” He sounds faintly bemused. As if that’s expected. Maybe it is.
“But… you’re claiming I’m… half god?”
Surely if I had superpowers I should’ve discovered them before now. And if I don’t have superpowers… why not??
“Ah. You didn’t know?” He chews his lip, then sighs. “I should’ve thought of that. Um. The reason Delilah kept you away… is because contact with me will strengthen - and eventually awaken - your divine aspect. If, er, if you’re not… if that’s not something you want, or you’re not sure, we can just do letters. That’s safe.”
While I was expecting this meet to be rife with mental and emotional bombshells, this has exceeded my wildest predictions.
I take a deep breath. I look at the basket. “I’m assuming that’s not, like, immediate?”
“No. It’s cumulative. We… the picnic should be fine. If you want-”
“Yeah. I’m famished.” Impulsive, sure, but I can’t just walk away.
So we sit down at a weathered picnic table. He spreads out a tablecloth, kinda tartan-esk dyed in greens and browns and hints of red. Lays out bread and fruit salad and a clay pot which turns out to have stew.
“I forgot to ask if you’re still vegan.”
“I am.” I hesitate, then add “I forgot to ask your name. I mean… do you have one?”
“Oh, yes. It’s Brynmawr. But call me Bryn.”
“You’re named after the hill?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Sort of? Hard to say which was named after the other.”
“Oh.”
I guess we’re kinda meeting at his house, then. Which jogs a thought - “Where did you get the money? I-I mean, Mum always said you sent her…”
“Park management.” He fills a bark cup and hands it to me. Smells minty. “They pulled strings. I wasn’t going to let you down any more than I had to.”
That explains why the address was a PO box in the park. I assumed he was a ranger or something. Which… not wrong?
I smile at him and try the cordial. It’s nice. Sweet and refreshing. Tastes like a home I’ve never visited before. “Thanks… Bryn.”
Sorry, mum. I officially have two dads.

Prompt was “Write about a secret rendezvous at a waterfall”.