by Eden Winters
With a bed to sleep in settled, he retraced his steps to where he’d left his groceries and hauled them to the kitchen. With any luck, the appliances weren’t as ancient as the rest of the furnishings. The stench grew with each step he took. He stopped in his tracks just inside the door. Oh my God! No wonder the place smelled like garbage! Although the rest of the house wasn’t pristine, a war had obviously been fought in the kitchen—and lost. Monica mentioned a get-together depleting the pantry, but instead of empty cabinets, Seth found empty cabinets and an unholy mess. Gnawed, sprouting potatoes lay haphazardly on the floor, and at least two chewed-open bread bags sat on the table, moldy former contents spread over the surface. Remnants of half-eaten sandwiches littered the floor. He wrinkled his nose at the disgusting odor and flung open the windows.
Once he’d regained his composure, he peered into the antique refrigerator. While the crisper drawer might have held rotting vegetables, at least they didn’t appear to have been chewed by large rodents. What the hell? Had field rats invaded? Recalling the hair on his aunt’s bedspread, he let out a relieved chuckle. If a pet cat had been left in the house alone, of course it would scavenge. But potatoes? Poor hungry kitty. And sandwiches? Perhaps a well-meaning neighbor had left them. Seth vowed to make it up to the poor beast if ever he found it. He’d always wanted a pet, but his stern grandmother couldn’t abide anything coming to her house and leaving a mess to clean, barely making an exception for a grandson.
A quick search of the house turned up no food bowls or litter box. Maybe the culprit was an indoor/outdoor cat. Surely it’d come around when hungry.
After finding cleaner under the sink and brooms, dustpans, mops, and cloths hanging on the enclosed back porch or in the pantry, he tuned out the daunting big picture and focused on completing one task at a time.
He’d succeeded in making the room presentable when he noticed a rather large hole in a panel along the wall that he supposed hid the water heater, judging by the occasional burbling whenever he used the sink. The accidental entrance must be where the cat came in. Well, the critter would have to learn to use the front door like everyone else.
Tired and hungry, he stared into the refrigerator, trying to decide on something quick and easy for dinner. Spying a splattered notebook on the buffet, he ambled over and flipped open the cover to reveal page after page of handwritten recipes. “Aunt Bessie’s Potato Salad” caught his eyes and made his mouth water. Searching through the refrigerator and cabinets, he found the potatoes he’d recently purchased, eggs, an onion, pickle relish, and everything else he needed to make one of his favorite childhood dishes. The results weren’t as good as Aunt Irene’s, but sometimes memories grew sweeter with time, right? Only, he didn’t remember crunchy bits of eggshell in the original version.
While Seth mopped the floor and bagged up trash, the sun sank lower in the sky, painting the horizon with a brilliant wave of blues and golds, unlike any sunset in the city. He watched the display from the kitchen window until a yawn stretched his mouth wide.
It wouldn’t do to have unexpected nocturnal visitors. He blocked the hole in the wall with an upturned footstool from the sitting room. Proper repairs must wait until after a good night’s sleep.
He wolfed down a quick dinner of canned soup and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, along with a few bites of his disappointing potato salad. Later, Seth unpacked his bags, took a tub bath since the one lone bathroom didn’t have a shower or even a shower nozzle, and then crawled into bed, exhausted.
Chapter 5
Dustin made the rounds, flipping on lights and unbolting doors. A quick check through a plate-glass window showed Andy Coleman’s Jeep Cherokee in the parking lot. If the world only knew how often patients checked into the doctor’s office, only to be shuffled to the veterinarian’s next door to hide their true nature. Sometimes maintaining secrecy wore Dustin out.
But the world wasn’t ready for proof of shape-shifters existing for real, outside of movie theaters, even if some sectors considered them an open secret of sorts. Exhibit A? Seth’s grandmother, who’d deemed Possum Kingdom a quarantine unit for a highly contagious disease.
The bell chimed over the door. Andy’s scent washed over Dustin like a cool breeze. Once upon a time, the breeze had soothed him, despite the sharp bite of predator energy. Now the fox shifter’s metamorphic ambiance chilled him to the bone.
“Reynard,” he murmured the moment the tall blond entered the examining room Dustin prepared for the day. He dipped his head slightly in reverence for a leader, using the formal title.
“Jack.” Andy mirrored the gesture. “How’s it going? I haven’t talked to you much since Irene’s memorial service.”
“I’m fine, thanks, and hanging in there. She was a good lady. I miss her.” Even after two years, greeting Andy with formality and not a kiss—or more, given the time remaining before work—struck him as unnatural. Once upon a time, they’d lived for stolen moments spent together, no matter where or when. Ah, the memories they’d created in the room marked “Storage.” Still, at the very least, he could use a hug.
“We all do. She brought stability to the town. I wonder how we’ll manage without her.”
Dustin heard the unasked questions, but had no clue how to answer. A few years ago, the resident fox skulk, only allowed into town by Irene’s good graces, fell into chaos with the unexpected demise of its Reynard. The subsequent rise of a good-hearted but feeble replacement had led to a bloody and painful fight. Although Andy assuming control had brought the battle to a screeching halt, lives were lost, and sacrifices made. Dustin had been Andy’s sacrifice. The foxes might have eventually accepted their bi-sexual leader’s choice of a male mate, but not an interspecies one. They certainly hadn’t approved of the former Reynard’s coyote-shifter lover. A female vixen of good family had solidified their support of Andy. Dustin hated politics. He’d love to hate Andy’s wife too, but she’d never given him a reason. Damn it.
Seeking to fill an awkward silence, he asked, “How’s Roxanne?”
“Fine.” Andy flashed a nervous grin. “Anxious to get it over with. The morning sickness is making her a little crazy. Look, have you got a minute? I’d like to talk to you.”
Dustin braced himself for bad news. It wasn’t like Andy to not simply blurt whatever came to mind. They’d once shared everything. Stop it, Dustin. Move the fuck on! “Sure,” he pushed out around a lump of uncertainty lodged in his throat.
Andy rammed both hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels while staring at the floor. “Roxie and I discussed it, and well, we want to name one of the boys after you.”
A slap to the face couldn’t have surprised Dustin more. “You want to name your son for me? Jesus, man, why don’t you stick a knife in me? Did you ever bother to tell your wife what we once were to each other?”
Andy scrubbed a hand through his wheat-colored mane. Normally bound in a tail at the nape of his neck, now the long strands swished loose across his shoulders. Dustin used to love to run his fingers through the lush mass, using the silken strands to guide Andy’s head. “I’ve told her, and she understands. She fooled around with girls in college—one of the reasons I found her attractive. Roxanne doesn’t have a judgmental bone in her body.” Andy took two long strides, placing him close enough to reach out and touch, but neither man did.
Essence of Andy invaded every pore, creating a steady ache in both Dustin’s heart and groin. Andy raised his hand, then dropped it to his side again without actually making contact with Dustin’s cheek. “We want to show our support of your claim. The skulk openly backing you will make critics think twice about a challenge.”
Oh. Politics again. “I don’t want this,” Dustin wrenched out from between clenched teeth. “I never wanted it.”
“And neither did I. You gotta believe me.” Their eyes met. Old feelings lingered in Andy’s baby blues, not that he’d act on them. His sense of honor was the thing Dustin had first noticed about the man, back w
hen Andy’s cousin had lost control of the skulk and wound up getting run out of town. Andy managed a shy half smile. “I never would have given you up if it wasn’t necessary to prevent bloodshed.”
“I don’t know. We had our moments, but let’s not kid ourselves. It wouldn’t have lasted. You’ve always wanted a family, and your attraction is pretty evenly divided between men and women. Your route isn’t an option for me, not a satisfying one, anyway.” While Dustin wouldn’t mind a few kids, whenever he visualized his future, it didn’t include a wife. A husband, maybe, but not a wife.
“Yeah, that much I’ll give you. But, damn, wasn’t it good while it lasted?” Andy leaned down to peer into Dustin’s eyes, a mischievous smile playing across his lips, which coaxed a laugh out of Dustin.
“Even if I do take over, it won’t be permanent. Sooner or later, succession will have to be arranged. I’ll have to pass the torch eventually.”
“Pick someone, or adopt a child.”
“I’m not sure the passel would accept someone who wasn’t blood kin.” This time Andy did lightly stroke Dustin’s cheek with a callused hand. Dustin leaned into the contact, sighing.
“If you can fill Irene’s shoes, nobody, and I mean nobody, will back anyone else’s claim. Irene naming you personally for the honor holds a lot of weight.” Andy jabbed a finger at Dustin’s chest. “The old lady chose you for a reason.”
Which didn’t make the unwanted burden any lighter. Dustin’s drive not to disappoint Irene and his need to keep peace in the town plagued his every waking moment. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“The skulk is behind you. Every last one of us.”
Reminded of how their exchange started, Dustin asked, “Is showing your support the only reason you want to name your kit after me?”
Crimson colored Andy’s tanned cheeks. “Um… that, and it rhymes with ‘Justin’, the other twin.”
They shared a laugh, followed by a huffed, “Women!” from them both. They stood quietly for some time, soaking up each other’s warmth. The moment had come and gone for them. Dustin held no regrets, though he carried a tiny bit of residual love in his heart for the Reynard. They’d burned brightly and hot, but for Andy, Dustin had been a passing fancy and a way for the out-of-town Reynard to gain neighborhood acceptance.
“Thanks, man,” Dustin murmured, eyes fixated on Andy’s lips.
The tip of Andy’s tongue snaked out of his mouth, leaving his lips moist and glistening. Dustin dropped his gaze, knowing better than to entertain dangerous thoughts. “Don’t mention it.”
He closed his eyes against the pain of Andy’s departure, only opening them again upon the bell chiming at his exit. Dustin let out the breath he’d been holding. Close, very close.
And yet still so far away.
Seth fired up his laptop, eager for news for the outside world. He clicked on one of his favorite sites, only to receive the message, “You are not connected to the Internet.” What the fuck? Hadn’t people in this godforsaken corner of the country heard of Wi-Max?
He clicked the connectivity icon at the corner of his screen and found three networks nearby, all locked. What the hell? People didn’t lock their doors here, but they protected their internet?
A man on a mission, he charged through the house, seeking a computer, phone, or any other portal to the world outside. He found a black dial phone (they still made those?) on a small table against the dining room wall. Why in the hell would anyone put it there? Oh well, he didn’t plan on staying long anyway.
His search also turned up a set of car keys, and a little further reconnoitering revealed a pickup truck in the barn, possibly even older and more dilapidated than Monica’s old beater. A valid tag adorned its dented bumper, and the rusting behemoth contained a full tank of gas. Armed with a shopping list and his laptop, Seth took off in the general direction of town. Surely a bookstore or coffee shop would offer Internet connection, right?
It took him driving completely through town, coming to farmland, and glimpsing the “Welcome to Possum Kingdom” sign in his rearview mirror to realize he’d missed his target. He attempted an illegal U-turn, but his aunt’s truck forced him to execute a back and forth seven-point turn. While an arrestable offense in some parts of the country, not a single soul wandered by to witness his law breaking, or deep embarrassment, though a sad-eyed spotted cow wished him good morning… or asked for food, whatever the hell her mournful “Moo!” meant.
He returned to the handful of buildings comprising Possum Kingdom, driving more slowly this time, searching for a likely Internet hotspot, a hardware store, or a six-foot Valkyrie to wrestle to the ground so he could recover his iPhone. Several older structures tickled vague memories from his childhood, but two apparently new buildings caught his eye, one bearing a sign that read, “Andrew Coleman, DVM,” and another matching sign: “Dustin Livingston, MD.” The two buildings connected in the back.
A vet and a medical doctor side by side? Well, he supposed it made sense in a town this size, if the few sparse buildings deserved the title of “town.” But why would so small a town need its own doctor and vet? Ahhh… farming community. Must be a lot of sick animals and ailing farm hands ’round about these parts.
An older model mobile home bore a single sign with two inscriptions: “Public Library” and “US Post Office.”
The Valkyrie’s truck sat outside the doctor’s office. Seth whipped in, or attempted to, given the lack of power steering, screeching to a halt near the front door. The sign caught his eye again, momentarily distracting him from his errand to retrieve his phone. Dusty, a doctor. He wondered what changes the years brought with them, although the picture on his Auntie’s mantel told the tale of angular planes maturing into handsome features. If the photo was any indication, Dustin had finally grown into his unfortunately large ears.
Dusty. After all these years he’d finally see Dusty again.
Breathing deeply to calm his suddenly shaky nerves, Seth switched off the truck and climbed down. How had his aunt driven the thing, or gotten in and out, with the stump-jumper tires elevating the cab to impossible heights? He tried to secure the vehicle, but gave up after finding the locks to be missing. Unwilling to leave any valuables unprotected, he grabbed up his computer case and strode into the doctor’s office with a take-no-prisoners attitude despite the anticipation eating at him. Would Dustin remember him? Recalling some less than stellar moments from his awkward younger days, he amended the question to, “Do I want Dustin to remember me?”
An overhead bell alerted a young woman at the counter to Seth’s presence, and no sooner had he crossed the threshold than an indescribable sensation swept through him, taking him back in time and bringing to mind freckles and red hair. What the hell was that?
“May I help you, sir?” the woman asked, gazing up from a computer screen.
Seth opened his mouth to ask for Monica, but out tumbled, “I’d like to speak with Dr. Livingston, if he has a moment,” only then realizing the irony in a childhood buddy bearing the moniker of “Dr. Livingston.” How many times had folks chuckled while asking Dusty, “Dr. Livingston, I presume?”
Dropping her eyes to Seth’s laptop case and then raising them once again to his face, the woman’s welcoming demeanor chilled about seventy degrees. “We don’t allow solicitation here. If you’d like to make an appointment, however….”
Following her gaze to his laptop, Seth quickly stammered, “Oh… oh no. You misunderstand. I’m not selling anything. I’d just like to—”
Anything else he might have said evaporated into thin air, every single brain cell simultaneously declaring a strike. While some of his more catty acquaintances might not have agreed, the man rounding the corner, clad in light-blue scrubs, was a perfect specimen. Not too tall, not too short, not skinny, not fat, and with gorgeous auburn locks slicked back from his forehead, sweeping his collar in back. Clear green eyes locked with Seth’s, and for one brief moment in time, he swore no one existed in the universe
except the two of them.
The handsome vision broke the spell. “Tiffany, Mrs. Riley needs to reschedule her appointment. Would you check what we have open for next Thursday and give her a call?”
“Sure, Doctor,” the lady replied, returning her attention to her computer.
“May I help you?” the doctor asked, the faint hint of a smile turning up his full lips.
Once again Seth detected a magnetic pull, and he wouldn’t have been a bit surprised to see lightning crackling between them. “Dusty?” he ventured, closing his mouth quickly lest Dustin notice the drool.
The faint smile blossomed and grew, revealing slightly crooked front teeth. The added touch of dimples and freckles gave the doctor a distinctive little-boy charm.
“Seth?” Dustin’s eyes went wide. For a moment, he appeared to be sniffing the air, the gesture quickly changing to a good nose scratch.
Silence filled the space between them for an extended moment. Oh crap! Dustin remembered him, but what if he’d no desire to see or talk to Seth? Think, Seth, Think!
After enough time for Seth to break out into a cold sweat, Dustin broke the silence. “I’m sorry about your aunt.”
Reminded of why he’d returned to Possum Kingdom, many years too late, Seth heaved out a sigh. “Yes, and I’m heartbroken for not being here for her, and not having been located until after her service.”
“It was a wonderful service,” Dustin assured him. “The whole town turned out. Your aunt was a great lady, well-loved.” Was that a dig about Seth’s neglect for not attending the funeral? He hadn’t even known his aunt had passed away until a few days ago. “Anyway,” Dustin continued, “I haven’t seen you in ages. How’ve you been?”
