A week has passed since the incident at the coffee shop and despite going about my days as if it’s all behind me, I continue thinking about it. Because Valentina Moreno was a real little girl, not just some story on the nightly news. She belonged to a family and was loved. 

It’s the middle of the night and I’m awake once again. Julian would scold me if he knew what I was doing, but I’m doing it anyway. 

“Why is Google such a rabbit hole?” I mutter, then click on another link. 

Moonlight trickles into the bedroom as I sprawl on the chaise lounger by the French doors, tapping away on my laptop. I’ve learned a lot about Valentina in the last few days, yet still very little.

What I know is, the Moreno family was vacationing in Yosemite National Park twenty years ago when Valentina disappeared in the night. They rented a tent cabin in Curry Village and on the night of the disappearance, Javier Moreno states he kissed Valentina and her one-year-old sister Rosalinda, goodnight, after tucking them into bed around nine PM. Then, he went outside to sit with his wife, Amelia by the fire pit.

Neither of them heard a single disturbance in the forty-five minutes they sat there relaxing. Then, when Amelia went inside to put on her pajamas, she checked on the girls but found Valentina’s bed empty. They searched for her, assuming she had snuck off to the bathroom alone, but after twenty minutes of no sight of her, they panicked. 

Families camping near them, joined with the search when they heard Amelia and Javier’s distress. Then, the rangers got involved, and that’s when they discovered the tear in the tent near Valentina’s bed. A slash that appeared to have been made with a knife.

That’s the gist of what happened, but I’m sure that for the Moreno family, it’s way more than that. I bet it’s a night that haunts them. Much like the day my mother, Elaine died by suicide. But I’d rather not think about that, so I glance out the window and the hot guy in apartment 3B is standing on his balcony. He’s leaning against it with his hands gripping the railing and it's causing his triceps to flex as they peek-a-boo from his white shirt.

“What are you out there thinking about, cutie?”

Setting the laptop aside, I roll off the chaise lounger and go to the French doors to spy. It’s three AM, so why is he awake?

I bite my lip and grip the curtains. 

It’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship and the last time I had sex was three months ago with some guy I met online who, right afterward, said he was only interested in hooking up. Which is information I wish he would’ve shared upfront before meeting for dinner and having what I assumed was a great first date.

This is why I’m terrible at dating. 

The rules are confusing and I always pick the wrong guys. Julian says it’s because my dad is overprotective and it hinders me from understanding men. Maybe he’s right? 

“I should just become a total slut. I bet it would be a blast…” I say while gazing across the courtyard, my fingers tightening around the curtain. Then a brilliant idea hits me. 

So, I turn on the lamp beside the lounger and brush aside the curtain just enough to expose myself. I have no idea what I’m doing but hot guy in 3B looks my way, so I open the curtain further. This causes him to straighten. It’s not like me to parade around in my undies for people to see, and now that I’m standing here half-naked, I don’t know what to do.

Do I strip?

Touch myself?

Do I even look sexy?

My curly hair is sitting in a messy bun on my head and I’m not wearing makeup. Then I gasp. What if he has a girlfriend?

“Damn it, Val! You’re an idiot.”

This is why I’m bad at dating.

This is why Julian says I don’t understand men.

So, I close the curtain, turn out the light, and do a walk of shame to the bed before burying myself under the blankets. 

“You’re losing your mind, Val. I think it’s time to visit dad.”

Because there’s nothing like unconditional love to remind you there’s at least one person who loves you no matter what.

∆∆∆

When morning arrives, I pack a duffle bag and set the GPS for Redding. 

Four hours is a long time to be on the road alone, but it goes by in a flash thanks to a smutty audiobook. It’s a guilty pleasure Julian teases me about. He says erotic books are lady porn. 

Redding is a beautiful city with mountains full of green trees reaching for the heavens and blankets of mist tumbling into the valley. I can see why my dad likes it here. The neighborhood is quiet as I steer my Volkswagen Bug off the paved road and onto a dirt path. The silver sky dampens the windshield with a drizzle, which means the brick fireplace is probably lit and there’s a hot mug of tea waiting. 

When I pull up to the log cabin, I notice the new set of rocking chairs on the porch. This isn’t the house I grew up in. With my father being a carpenter, he often has to go wherever they need him and after the forest fires last year, the demand for construction workers increased. Which is why he now lives four hours away from me. 

The gravel crunches underneath the tires as I pull into the driveway, and a smile instantly grows on my face at the sight of him standing in the doorway. I can’t unbuckle myself fast enough as I kick open the door before jumping out.

“How’s my girl?” 

“I missed you!” 

Seeing him turns me into a toddler as I run and weave my arms around his waist. He smells like sawdust, so I close my eyes and squeeze, savoring the familiarity of his scent. His lips press a lingering kiss to the top of my head and when he exhales, there’s the scent of nicotine. 

“Dad...” I pull away and stare up at him with furrowed brows. “Have you been smoking?”

“No.” He shakes his head.

“DAD,” I say more sternly.

“Ok. Fine.”

“Why would you start up again!?”

“Work is stressful. I caved.” He shrugs.

“You don’t do it every day, right?”

“No.”

“Good because you’re supposed to live forever.”

“Well, we’re going to freeze to death out here, so come on.” He tugs my elbow and we head inside.

This is the fourth time I’ve visited him since living alone, and something is different about the place. My father isn’t a messy person, but he’s not the tidiest either, and the cabin is spotless. His boots are usually strewn by the entrance as if he kicks them off upon entering and leaves them there. This time, they’re resting on a wooden rack with a bench for him to sit and tie his shoes. Above it are hooks for his jackets and a shelf for hats. 

The living room is to the immediate right, and the black leather couch has a quilt neatly folded over the backrest. Even the maple coffee table in front of it is clutter-free when usually there are coasters and crinkled magazines on top. 

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I say as I circle the couch and find velvety throw pillows on it which match the colors of the quilt. “And this new area rug.”

“Yeah. I did a little Amazon shopping.”

“I can see.” I glace around. “Well, I’ve gotta pee, and then what do you say we get some lunch?”

“Sounds good.”

When I flick on the light to the bathroom, I find matching towels hanging on hooks, which accent the soap dispenser, toothbrush holder, and bath rug. 

“Interesting…” I shut the door and there’s a fluffy white robe dangling on the back of it. “Since when does he use one of these?”

All of it is so different than before. 

By the time I finish and head back into the living room, my father is putting away dishes.

“You got a dishwasher!”

“I did.” 

“And new plates!” I snatch a white one with silver trim. “Fancy.” 

“I accidentally broke a few of the old ones.”

“Well, it’s a nice set.” I stroke one of the soup bowls with the same silver trim. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this place has a woman’s touch.”

A hint of pink tints his cheeks, and I think my father might be embarrassed as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “I just figured I’d spruce the place up a little bit since it looks like I’ll be here a while.” 

“Lots of work, huh?”

“Tons. But, we better get some lunch before you starve.”

∆∆∆

The brewery in town is buzzing with patrons, while wait-staff zips around taking orders and serving drinks. Large, flat-screen TVs are spread throughout the dining area, with college football playing as trendy music bumps overhead on the surround sound. 

There’s a cold pint of ale gripped in my hand with moisture beads trickling down as I stare at my father. He’s a handsome man. My friends have always thought so. It’s his dark wavy hair, which he keeps trim, but it’s just a little longer in the front and sometimes when he’s concentrating really hard, it’ll fall into his eyes. Then, he’ll try blowing the strands out of the way, but it doesn’t work. The hair just keeps falling into his beautiful brown eyes. He’s adorable like that.

Except, as I gaze at him while he chows down on the burger and fries he ordered, I want to tell him about Valentina Moreno. 

“Dad…” I toy with a fry by swirling it in ketchup.

“Yes, baby girl,” he says with a mouthful.

“Did you ever hear about that girl who went missing while on vacation?”

“The one who was in those TikToks?” He wipes his mouth and takes a sip of beer. 

“No. Years ago. In Yosemite. She was four years old.” 

“Vaguely.” He takes another bite of his burger, then points at the fry I’m smashing into the ketchup. “Don’t play with your food. If you don’t like them, I’ll eat them.” 

Reaching across the table, he snags a few from my plate and eyes me with playfulness crinkling the edges of his mouth. My dad has an amazing smile. One that illuminates his face, and when he laughs, he throws his head back while pinching the bridge of his nose. Everyone says I laugh just like him.

“Well, the reason I’m bringing it up is because they had an episode about it last week.”

“Oh yeah?” He sips his beer.

“Yeah, and I guess they showed this age-progression photo. You know, the kind where they use a computer to guess what the child looks like as an adult?”

“Mm-hm…” He sinks his teeth into the burger again, and I glance down at mine which barely has a dent.

“And well, this lady—”

“Baby girl,” he says with a mouthful. “Aren’t you gonna eat? I thought you loved the food here?”

“I do love the food here.”

“But you’ve only taken two bites and you’ve smashed your fries into mashed potatoes,” he chuckles. 

“It’s just, this lady—”

“Is it work? Is Jerry being an asshole again because I’ll give him a call right now and set him straight.”

“No, dad, work is fine. It's just this lady, she came up to me and asked me if I’m Valentina Moreno.”

“Who?”

“The little girl who went missing.”

“The TikToker?”

“No, you’re not listening.” I rest my elbows on the table and massage my temples. 

“Look, I know it’s been hard with me living so far away, but I’m always here for you, baby girl.” 

“I know you are.”

“Then, here…” He fishes out his wallet and extracts two hundred dollar bills, then slides them across the table. “I don’t want you stressing about work, or any bills you have to pay. Put this in your savings account and save it for a rainy day.”

“Dad, I don’t need your money.”

“San Francisco is expensive. Just take it.” He curls the money around my hand. “I’m your dad, it’s my job to take care of you.”

“Then listen to me.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not. I’m trying to talk to you about something!”

Guests at surrounding tables jerk their heads our way. It’s not like me to raise my voice at my father, but sometimes he’s a terrible listener, and I need him to hear me. I need him to put me at ease.

“Ok, ok. I’m listening.” He holds up his hands and sits back.

“There was this woman, and she stopped me, and said I look like Valentina Moreno. Then Julian and I Googled the photo of her and it was like staring into a mirror!”

“Honey,” he snorts. “This is why you’re upset? Because of some silly woman scaring you?”

“No. Because I look just like that little girl who went missing. It’s freaky!”

“Baby girl.” He shakes his head, smiling. “You look just like your momma. Big, beautiful brown eyes, and a head full of dark curls, but your nose…” He taps it. “That’s all me.”

“But sometimes I can’t even remember what mom looks like. Do we not have a single photo of her?”

“Not anymore.” He glances down at his plate. “The fire took everything. You know that.”

“That makes me sad.”

“Don’t be.” His damp eyes flash up to mine and he immediately takes my hands in his. “Sometimes I have a hard time remembering her face too, but then out of nowhere a memory hits. It’ll come to you. I promise. Mom will always be in our hearts.”

“Have you ever been to Yosemite?”

“What?” His brows crease. 

“Yosemite National Park. Where the little girl went missing.”

“What are you asking me.” He releases my hands. 

“Well, have you?”

“Do you think I kidnapped you?”

“Dad, answer the question.”

“Jesus, Valerie! Are you serious?”

Then the shame hits me as I stare at his crinkled brows and damp eyes because I’m a fool for even insinuating such a thing. He has every right to be upset. After my mother took her life when I was ten years old, it’s been just the two of us. He’s my world. My protector.

Yet, I just accused him of kidnapping me. 

“You know, I originally thought you came here this weekend because it’s mom’s anniversary tomorrow,” he says. “So the last thing I expected was this.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and avert my gaze. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Listen…” He leans forward and lifts my chin to look me in the eyes. “You’re my daughter. I love you. You’re my world.”

“And you’re mine.”

A tear trickles down his cheek, so he smudges it away with a knuckle. However, seeing him cry causes the embankment on my lids to give way as a sob explodes from my throat. In a matter of seconds, he’s out of his seat, and scooting in next to me with arms wrapping me tight. 

How could I accuse my sweet, loving father of something so ridiculous? 

So, for the rest of the day, I shove Valentina Moreno aside and enjoy this much-needed father-daughter time.