Wolfheart

by Hallie Lee

  She looked contemplative. “Does Claire still work at the post office?”

  “Yep. And she’s still a gossip. A pot stirrer. Speculating. Making up lies. It burns me up every time I see her. The way she took five years away from you and Desi.”

  “Five years.” Robin bobbed her head, and I sensed another random turn in the discussion. “I can’t believe Dean’s been gone five years. It doesn’t seem like it.”

  “It seems longer than that?” I asked, “Or shorter?”

  “Both, I suppose. He’s everywhere. In everything I do. I never really feel alone because he’s always with me.”

  I tried one last stab with the poker, but nothing but smoke rose from the pit. “I’m sorry, Robin. He was a great guy. And I hate that your life together was cut short.”

  “Me too.” She stood up. “I guess I’m going to head in, Rick. It’s been a long day.”

  I gathered our lawn chairs and led Robin to the patio. Although it was dark, the lights from inside guided me as I leaned the chairs next to the ones Lenny had picked up.

  One glimpse into the living room told me the young ones remained energetic and engaged. Micah and Quietdove sat side by side on the loveseat, while Sterling perched on the hearth of the fireplace. Bella hummed along as he lightly plucked his guitar. Luke watched them quietly from the couch, no doubt pondering incorporation.

  Violet eyed her phone, looking solemn as she stroked Mary Ann, the black and white dog. For a moment I worried that Robin had been right about her emotional state. But then she lifted her head, laughed, and shoved her phone under Petey’s nose.

  “Wait,” I squinted. “Is that a cat on Petey’s lap?”

  Petey sat in Lenny’s recliner, with a big black cat curled in his lap. He lazily rubbed the cat’s head, and it wasn’t clear who appeared more content, the cat or Petey.

  “Yes,” Robin beamed. “That’s my Buford! He’s finally settled in!”

  “You have a cat?”

  I wanted to tell her about Gerty. About how spoiled she was and the way she liked to drink out of the faucet and lounge in her afternoon patch of sun. But I didn’t. It was too late.

  As we quietly passed through the living room, I raised my hand in goodbye. Everyone, except the cat, waved back. “Good seeing you, Robin.” I managed a dignified, somewhat awkward hug. “Welcome home.”

  The melodic chords of Sterling’s guitar faded as I let myself out, and grudgingly faced the realization that there would be no future with Robin. And then I got in my turnip truck and headed home to Gerty.

  Chapter Nine

  Communion Goldfish

  Wolfheart

  I

  leisurely carried a cup of coffee to the porch, taking a moment to embrace the orange glow of the morning sun as it rose along the creek. And then I inspected the grounds for the hundredth time for remnants of the butchering and lynching that ensued during my sister’s memorial. While I’d been able to hose off most of the mess before Bella and Meadow had returned that night, it had been dark, and they’d been tired and distracted.

  I made my way to the shed at my property line, which was nothing more than a ragged building that served as a catch-all for animal feed, garden supplies, and an old chicken coop. The chickens greeted me with carefree clucks, their temperament much improved since the massacre. I bent to pet a stray cat that meowed at my feet, and then a dog of questionable pedigree that trailed the cat. I poured kibble into the bowls scattered under the covered tin roof of the shed, and watched as a few more dogs loped over, followed by a few of the cat’s buddies.

  All, it seemed, was well this morning. After I tossed the chickens some feed from a bucket, I ambled back in the direction of the house, pausing to have a looksee at my garden. I weeded around my peppers and tomatoes, moved the dirt closer to my basil, and loosened it around the hibiscus. Peony used to say that plants were our brothers and sisters, and if we listened, they talked to us.

  I moved to tend to my cassava plant, a healthy shrub with an edible root called yuca. Often mistaken for cannabis because of the leaflets that radiated from a single point and the bright green color, cassava was a good source of protein, minerals, and B vitamins.

  Whether from gawking at the vivid spectacle of the cassava, or because my skin still itched from the patch-shirt I wore in honor of Peony, I couldn’t fight the onslaught of memories of Megan. Like a landslide, they swept through me, tugging me deeper into despondency. Determined to shake off the uninvited thoughts, I vigorously seized on the disorderly soil around the cassava plant.

  Finally, drenched in sweat, I sat in the dirt, and surrendered to my reminiscences. After all this time, I could still clearly see her face. The dimples under her smooth cheeks. The shine and the wave of her long blonde hair. Her blue eyes, innocent, then sassy, and finally…mean and condescending.

  We’d met in junior high. She’d been the hot, new girl from Belle Maison, while I’d been trying to solidify my image as the roughneck from across the creek. The teacher had positioned her in the desk behind me, and I could still feel the heat of her glare against the back of my shirt. She’d been so proper with her bookbag and pencils, and me, I’d simply been biding my time until I could legally quit school like the rest of the Creek People.

  The other girls were jealous of her because she was beautiful. They alienated her, or worse, made sure she saw them whispering about her. She had no one to talk to, and I ignored her like the rest of the class. I waited, biding my time, as I’d perfected the art of patience, appreciating the strategy after successfully hunting deer in the swamp.

  By the second or third week of school, I’d taken to sitting sideways in my desk, just enough so she’d catch my dirty looks. Soon she feared me. Like everyone else. And yet I could tell she was curious about me, astonished by my insouciance and brooding manner.

  She’d been a good girl, answering promptly when the teacher called on her, while I could barely manage a grunt when he called on me. Most of the time I rested my head on my desk, and slept through class. Occasionally the teacher flicked a pen against my ear, demanding my attention. When I knew Megan was watching, I’d open one bloodshot eye, and offer the teacher an exaggerated, defiant yawn.

  When she finally got up the nerve to speak to me, I stabbed her with a wicked glare and then delighted in the way she cowered. But later, when I told Peony what I’d done, she’d scolded me. Told me I should be nice, that the girl was probably lonely.

  “How could she be lonely? She lives in a big house with a swimming pool and a swing set. Her family is rich. She’ll never be lonely.”

  “Swings sets and pools aren’t friends, Brad. They’re just things. Be nice to her. That’s not who you are.” Peony always liked to say that: That’s not who you are. She really believed I was somebody. But I knew better.

  At school the next day I turned around in my seat. Handed Megan an envelope. I watched closely as she opened it, and looked inside. When she gasped out loud, I laughed. I still remember her blue eyes growing wide with panic when the teacher walked into the classroom.

  She’d turned pale with fright, not knowing what to do with the envelope of weed. At the time, she probably didn’t even know what it was.

  That would come later.

  •

  A rustle from the direction of the shed startled me, and I quickly jumped into a crouch, reaching for my bowie knife at my back hip.

  “Wolfheart,” hissed Redflyer.

  I eyed him angrily. Not only had he alarmed me, but he’d also disturbed my memories of Megan. I berated myself, at once ashamed. “I’m here.” I answered. “Are you ready?” Dwelling on Megan was pointless.

  “Yes.” Redflyer glanced at his friends, Moonpipe and Youngdeer. “We’re prepared. Will you be joining us?”

  “No,” I nodded toward the house. “I need to stay here with Meadow and Bella. I have reaso
n to fear for their safety. Be extra cautious out there.”

  “We will.” Redflyer raised his phone. “We’ll keep you updated.”

  “Good. You know where to look?”

  “All around the Indian mounds, yes. And the sacred places around the burial grounds.”

  I followed Redflyer and his friends toward the other men he’d gathered. They all exuded intensity, focus and purpose. “Excellent. And if necessary,” I added, “and willing, the marshes surrounding the black lands.”

  “We’re willing. And if we find nothing, we’ll move toward Osprey Lake. If Madhawk’s out there, we’ll find him.”

  I acknowledged Redflyer and his men gratefully. “Thank you all.”

  Redflyer started to walk away, then stopped and turned to me. “If only the Spirit Warrior were here to help us. He’d find Madhawk.”

  I reacted with a sudden wave of grief. “Yes, I know. But he is lost to us now, so we are on our own.”

  Understanding flashed across Redflyer’s face. And then resolve.

  •

  After I folded and stacked my bedding to one side of the couch, I cued up Bella’s iPad. When the familiar countdown logo appeared, I climbed the steps to the bedroom. Tapped lightly at the door, and opened it a crack. Meadow and Bella were fast asleep.

  “Bella. Time for church.” She lifted her head, meeting my gaze. Her hair was full and untamed, and her eyes were cloudy with sleep, but she nodded her acknowledgment.

  By the time she stumbled downstairs, I’d put on another pot of coffee. She walked right past the pot, however, and reached into the cabinet for two wine glasses. She then rummaged through the pantry, shaking two goldfish from a bag. “Cheesy today.”

  Finally, she poured us each a splash of grape juice, carried the crackers over, and settled beside me on the couch. When she rested her head lightly on my shoulder, my heart felt full. What more could any man want? Especially a man like me, who’d done shameful things and contributed to the ruin of many.

  “Turn it up,” she said as the music began. “I love this song.” Bella hummed along as the North Lake musicians delighted the audience with worship music. “Sterling played this on his guitar last night at Micah’s house.”

  “It went well?”

  “It did. And everyone asked about you.”

  I raised my eyebrows in question as she sipped grape juice. “Is that so?”

  “It’s true. Even Sheriff Rick was nice.” She set the wine glass down, absently fiddling with one of the communion goldfish. “And I’m going to help Luke get Shady Gully incorporated.”

  “You’re what?”

  She shushed me as North Lake’s campus coordinator took the stage. I regarded my great niece as she released the goldfish, and leaned in for the service. While I wanted to tell her it would be better to keep a low profile now, I knew my unwarranted advice would only encourage her to do the opposite.

  So I bit back my concerns, held my tongue, and determined to rest my fears and worries at Jesus’s feet.

  Once the campus coordinator ran through the church’s business, Timothy took the stage. As usual, his warm smile belied his unruly hair and tattoo lined arms. He wasn’t your typical preacher, dressed in a three-piece suit, standing behind a podium with slicked back hair, tossing out fancy words with rehearsed affectation.

  Timothy was a sinner.

  Like me. And he humbled himself every Sunday. He was relatable, so I believed him when he said Jesus knew all about me, and loved me anyway. When Timothy from Lexington, Kentucky, spoke of his own failures and shortcomings, and the pain he’d caused others, I felt like he could be talking directly to me in Shady Gully, Louisiana. Surely, Timothy’s story was like mine, and that’s why I trusted him.

  When the music picked up again, Bella joined in the singing. Her voice often brought me to tears, but especially today, amid so much uncertainty.

  A tap on the door made me jump. For the second time today, I’d drifted off into melancholy like some silly old man.

  “Uncle Wolf, it’s Desi,” Bella said. “And Robin.”

  As I opened the door to let my friends in, Bella fetched more wine glasses and communion goldfish.

  “Oh dang,” muttered Desi as she set Tupperware and bags of food on the bar. “I’d hoped we’d make it before Timothy started.”

  Robin beamed up at me, tucking her head into my chest. “You really live out in the sticks, don’t you?” She wrapped her arm around my waist, squeezing tightly. “It’s good to see you.”

  As she studied me, I explained. “I got old.

  “Me too,” she answered.

  Bella handed Desi and Robin wine glasses while I moved my bedding to the floor. The four of us sat thigh to thigh, listening to Timothy’s message about hope and courage.

  We took communion, and then Bella sang the closing songs with the North Lake musicians. So moved by this unexpected chance to worship with friends from my youth, with whom I shared a significant history, I found it hard to control the swell in my chest. Nevertheless, I refused to get sappy. After all, I had a reputation to uphold.

  “Alright, let’s have lunch,” Desi said. “We brought leftovers from last night.”

  I joined Desi in the small kitchen, helping her transfer the food to serving bowls. My mouth watered as I put barbecue short ribs into the microwave to warm. “This looks great.”

  “We missed you last night. All of Petey’s burgers were wiped out, but Lenny saved you some of his barbeque.”

  “Good man, that Lenny. Sorry I missed it. How’s Petey?”

  “He’s the same.” Desi couldn’t hide the joy that suffused her face as she rinsed Tupperware in the sink. “The life of the party.”

  “I hope to catch up with him soon.”

  “Where’s Meadow?” Desi asked Bella as she scooted past her to get glasses from the cabinet.

  “She’s still asleep. She doesn’t get into church like Uncle Wolf and me.” Bella delivered the glasses to the table for Robin, who poured from a pitcher of sweet tea.

  “Well, she’s been through a rough week,” Robin said. “I’m so sorry about Peony.”

  “Me too,” I said as I moved to the table.

  Robin asked me point blank, “What happened, Brad? Did Madhawk kill her?”

  Desi froze at the kitchen sink, while Bella sat down, and looked at me expectantly.

  Robin, undaunted, patted the chair next to her. “Come on, Brad. Tell us what happened. You know we’re on your side.”

  “It’s complicated.” I sat down. But when Desi took the chair on the other side of me, I blurted, “Yes.” I looked at Bella, who had tears in her eyes. “We…I…didn’t get there in time to stop him.”

  Desi ran her hand through Bella’s hair, while Robin squeezed my hand. “Peony was such a kind person, and there was so much tragedy in her life. She deserved better.”

  “I agree,” I nodded. “If her real love, her husband Axe, had lived, I think she would have had a gentler life.” When I caught Desi and Robin exchange a quick glance, I motioned toward Bella. “It’s okay. Bella knows about her true papaw. What a good man he was, and how much Peony loved him.”

  “I had my hands full with toddlers at the time,” Desi said. “But I remember he was a plumber, right?”

  “Yes, he was a plumber,” I answered. “A really good one.”

  “He was,” Robin said. “My Daddy thought a lot of him. Every time he’d come to our house, he’d bring suckers for Ernie, Max, and me, and he always remembered our names.”

  “That sounds like him. He had a great reputation. Not only for his skill, but for the easy way about him. I guess you would say,” I looked at Robin, “he assimilated well.”

  Bella grinned. “Maybe that’s where I got it. From my Papaw Axe.”

  “That’s probably what got him killed.” We all
turned when Meadow padded down the stairs. “He’d go all over for jobs. Deep into Shady Gully, Azalealand, and Belle Maison. That’s what happened. He went missing after some job in Belle Maison, and they found him in his truck a few days later. With his throat cut.”

  “Mama,” Bella breathed. “You’re up.”

  “Yes, and it looks like I missed the party.” Meadow’s sarcasm didn’t mix well with the bruises on her face and chin, which had now turned a ghastly yellow-green. Because her pain saddened me, I swallowed back my impatience with her rudeness.

  “Well, I guess it is a little bit of a party.” Bella went to Meadow, kissed her gently on the cheek. “Because we have party food. Sit down, Mama. I’ll fix you a plate.”

  “I think I’ll just have coffee.” Meadow moved into the kitchen without another word. Desi’s wink assured me that she and Robin weren’t offended by Meadow’s aloofness.

  “Plus, we’re celebrating my try out tomorrow. Win or lose, I’m going for it.”

  I held my breath. Watched Meadow’s back stiffen as she poured coffee. Grateful when she didn’t take the bait.

  “Good for you, Bella,” Desi clapped her hands. “We’re going to be there to cheer you on.”

  “Mama?” Bella looked over at Meadow. “Are you going to come? Uncle Wolf is.”

  Meadow glared at me. Our disagreements about this were known to Bella, which is probably why she challenged her mother in front of an audience.

  “Mama’s not such a big fan of assimilation,” Bella said in a cheeky tone. “But I’m not going to live out here on the creek all my life. I want more.”

  The silence was awkward, and God help me, I didn’t know how to diffuse it. Finally, Meadow said, “I just think you need to be realistic, Bella. I’m afraid you’re being set up for failure. And disappointment.” She looked directly at Desi. “Who was that guy in Shady Gully who told everybody he was gonna be a country music star? I can’t remember his name—”