The Wildflower Series

by Rachelle Mills

  A pattern is forming, as if I’m trying to solve a Rubik’s cube. It’s turning and sliding inside, shifting everything into place. My eyes and mind are working out what was right in front of me. I just hadn’t paid attention.

  I can’t move, only stare.

  It’s a supernova explosion inside me, once all the colors matching up. I try to crawl on hands and knees toward the door with outstretched hands. I can see the way her smile fades instantly, her whole body stiffening as my eyes meet hers.

  I’ve become useless.

  Caleb’s taking great lungfuls of air through his nose; it’s as if he’s going on tippy toe, slowly twirling himself hypnotically around, in his own trance. His eyes are blown-out black, teeth have started to descend, and the rippling of skin is starting to transform his body to more fur than skin.

  He’s losing complete control of himself as he falls down on both knees that can’t hold his weight.

  “She’s here.” Muffled words come through his extending jaw as it shifts into a muzzle.

  My father’s voice is just whispers, my mind so completely overwhelmed at the moment nothing else registers.

  I try to stand again, and tears blind my vision. I can’t pull my breath into my body. Rya’s eyes don’t leave mine, until my eyes fall on her heavily pregnant belly. Gripping my chest, I raise myself up, only to have a blur of fur rush past me head first, crashing into the glass patio door, shattering it as if a bomb just went off.

  Mass chaos erupts as my father’s massive wolf follows his son inside.

  Chapter 20

  A Father’s Love

  Rya

  Sometimes loneliness can be overwhelming.

  At night, laying in my bed just thinking about things, my mind is unable to calm down. I’ve dug a deep hole for myself, and I’m not sure how to really climb out of it.

  With each passing day, my pit is getting deeper, sides steeper with no hope of escaping.

  I thought that away would mean freedom from thoughts of Dallas, but no matter where I go, it’s impossible to escape him. It’s as if now that I’m not busy with things to do, I have the time to think.

  Dallas haunts my nights and ghosts through my days as an apparition. Sometimes if I’m really still, I think I can get a side glimpse of him. When I turn my head, I realize it was just my imagination playing tricks on me, again and again. Walking through a busy store, my side view shows a silhouette of him at times, and I stop completely until realization hits. That’s not him.

  Sleep is the hardest. Closing my eyes at night, my rapidly moving eyelids see the dreams of him and what could be. Mornings have me crying into my pillow that it was only a dream.

  That it wasn’t real.

  Waking up from my dream late one night, I reach for the phone, needing to call Dallas, but it’s Clayton my fingers dial without direction, as if it is the most natural thing to do.

  Someone who won’t judge me, who will just let me talk and listen.

  “Hello,” his tired voice mutters.

  “Clayton, it’s Rya.” There is hesitation in each word I say as I shift slightly on the unfamiliar mattress. I’m sure I’ll get used to its hardness eventually.

  “Rya, are you all right?” He sounds like he is waking up a bit.

  “Yeah, I’m all right. Is it too late? Did I wake you up?” I hold in my breath. Maybe I shouldn’t have called.

  “No, it’s fine.” He sighs. I can hear him shift his position in bed. “I’m up now. What’s going on?” Just hearing his voice naturally calms all my anxiety.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Not sure?”

  “Screwed up, isn’t it?”

  “No, not screwed up. Why are you calling me from this number?”

  “I threw my phone in the ocean.” I give a sad laugh out. “This is my new one.”

  “You threw your phone into the ocean? What did it ever do to you?” He chuckles lazily, poking fun at me.

  “It was a real jerk, so I threw it away.” Smiling into the darkness, I close my eyes, listening to his breath. It’s a perfect rhythm. Even the heart inside my chest syncs to his rhythm.

  “Whoa, a little aggressive, don’t you think?”

  “That’s me, Miss Aggressive.” The flush his voice gives me spreads throughout the length of me, growing warmer and warmer as we continue to talk.

  “How’s your trip going?” His voice sounds sleepy, a touch deeper than usual.

  “Good, I rented a beach house. I’m going to stay here for a while. Is this okay? Me calling you?”

  “Call me anytime, Rya. Anytime you need me, I’ll be here.” He’s trying to sound so serious as if he means it.

  “How are you doing, Clayton?” Do I want to know? If I can’t handle the answer, why do I ask the questions? Because this wolf will tell me like it is, no matter if it hurts my feelings.

  “It’s hard, Rya. I won’t lie. Everything is almost gone from my life. It’s a daily struggle to continue. Some days are better than others. Today was a good day.” My heart does hurt for him; I’m not insensitive for what he must be going through.

  “I can’t believe she’s dead. I made up a story in my head that she was happy there with her mate, that she had pups on the way. She was getting everything she always wanted. Somehow it made it easier for me. She always wanted pups. When her heat came, we always thought maybe we were the special ones, and we could have a pup of our own. It never worked.” It’s hard to listen to their dreams, while mine were never given a chance.

  “Then when the call came that night.” A crack in that deep voice of his. A pause in breath, the moment turns to minutes before he continues to talk. She was his everything, and she died. I can’t even imagine the loss he’s felt and still feeling.

  Death is final; you don’t come back from it.

  “I’m sorry, Clayton. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “It’s getting easier; it’s still hard, but it’s getting easier for me. How’s Cash doing?” My stomach tightens up.

  “I’m not sure. I’ve left messages for him, but he hasn’t called me back. I don’t think he wants to talk to me. Maybe I did something wrong.” I wish I could have talked with Cash one last time before cutting ties with all the Valentines. It’s for the best; their brother has moved on, and I shouldn’t keep calling them anymore. It’s like I’m just trying to keep contact to hold on to just a thread of him in some way. It’s wrong no matter how good friends we are, plus I don’t want to hear that he’s with another she-wolf. Not while I’m carrying his pup inside me.

  That I will not be able to handle.

  “I’m sure Cash has a lot of things to sort out. He’ll call you when he’s ready. Don’t think for one moment that you did something wrong. He understood the situation was not your fault even though he blamed you for it in the beginning for not fighting for what was yours.”

  “How do you know that?” I’m surprised he knows so much about what happened between Cash and me.

  “Caleb and Dallas…they kept me informed while I was healing. They said if I was to get everything all at once, I would go nuts.”

  “True, I guess it’s better for one brick to hit you at a time than the whole wall.” He laughs with my wording.

  “Something like that.” He yawns.

  “I heard what you did for him and those pups. We sent them milk too.”

  “I couldn’t let them die no matter what I thought of Kennedy; they deserved a chance to live. She wasn’t that bad; I just couldn’t be her friend.” The taste of bitterness that I have for those two has left me entirely, replaced with a growing sadness for them.

  “Understandable.” He’s quick with the response. “You’re a good wolf, Rya. You’re smart to put that all together. I don’t know how you were able to manage it.”

  “I called in some favors.” That’s all I’m going to tell him, no need to get into great detail.

  “Rya, I wish things were different.” I can taste his regret over the line. Its de
ep, heavy flavor lingers in the back of my throat, almost painfully.

  “Me too, Clayton. I should go. Thanks for talking with me.”

  “No problem. Anytime you need to talk, call me.”

  “Bye, Clayton.”

  “Bye, Rya.” The line goes quiet. His voice acted as a muscle relaxer to my tight fibers, loosening me up.

  The moon’s natural pill for a pregnant female.

  Before drifting off in a slumber bliss, another thought enters my mind: I need to call my mother. I need to talk with her, just not yet.

  A slate grey morning greets me. I take my tea out on the deck, curling up on a deep chair the best I can. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders, the breeze gently lifting the edges up. The waves are rolling in one after the other in a sea of never-ending movement. I’ve been doing this every morning for the past three days since my arrival here; I will never get tired of watching the water.

  “Rya.” I didn’t ever hear her approach; she knows how to walk in silence.

  “Belac.” I straighten myself out until I’m standing to greet her.

  “I just was making the rounds and thought that I would make sure you haven’t birthed that beast yet.” She points her finger at my belly that’s bulging out front and center. Rubbing my hand over the male that’s nesting inside me has the smile on my face widening.

  “No, he’s not ready yet, but soon.” I hear someone else approach loudly, as if they want to be heard.

  A she-wolf rounds the corner wearing glasses, which is odd for a wolf. She’s smaller than a female should be, warily sniffing around until she’s standing just behind Belac but looking at me. I can see Belac’s hand on this timid she-wolf’s shoulders. It’s as if she’s trying not to shake too much.

  Putting up a good front.

  “See, not so hard, was it?” Belac whispers in her frightened ear. The smell of heavy silver is on this wolf; she’s saturated in it, making me sneeze with the noxious fumes.

  “This is Treajure.” She pulls her out from behind her back. “This is Rya; she’s going to be staying with us for a while. Go ahead and greet her like I showed you.” This poor female is so full of self-doubt that I think at any moment she will either pee herself or vomit. She takes a step toward me, looking at Belac, who gives me the hardest stare I have ever received.

  Play nice, it says, or at least I think that’s what her eyes are telling me.

  Letting my shoulders relax, smiling without teeth, I still myself as she approaches. A hand goes to her waistband, fingers grazing what’s hidden underneath the material. I hold my position until this scared wolf is in front of me, breathing hard. It took a lot of her effort to do this.

  “Treajure, it’s nice to meet you.” Looking at her closely, I can see very fine scars lining her face, thicker ones descending underneath her shirt. Arms covered in fine lines that crisscross, overlapping one another; these could only be made with silver.

  This is an abused wolf beyond the degree my mind can register.

  Holding my cheek out to her, I let her come forward at her pace. She places her cheek on mine before pulling away in a sweat, quickly making her way back to Belac. She tucks herself into the folds of Belac’s coat.

  “Good job.” Belac lets her stay close for a moment before making her stand on her own.

  “Would you like some tea or juice?”

  “No thanks, we were just passing through. I needed her to meet you since you plan on staying through the winter. She tends to get a little twitchy. I didn’t want her to knife you if you ran into her by accident.”

  At first glance, this female looks nothing to be afraid of, except the amount of silver she’s carrying makes her a deadly threat that you would think twice about messing with.

  They leave as quickly, refusing my offers of tea, coffee, and muffins. A little sadness spreads. It would be nice to share a meal with someone at my new place.

  Weeks and weeks are flying as if time is in fast forward. Belac is always dropping by with visitors, introductions made. Now she’s staying for tea and juice; we’ve progressed to food as well. I always keep the kitchen stocked with homemade cookies or pies, the stuff that sits well on my stomach. I can’t stand meat.

  I’ve learned that Belac is a second-born twin, and her brother is the Alpha to the neighboring pack. Belac bought this piece of land and claimed it for herself; it’s a small piece. Her brother leaves her alone, not wanting to fight with his sister. This is how she earns her living, renting out beach homes in the peak season, then she has the off season to do as she pleases. These wolves that she keeps bringing by are part of the smallest pack I have ever heard of.

  Looking at my phone, trepidation creeps inside me as I dial my mother’s phone number. She is my mother, but not every parent is perfect. They make mistakes just like their children.

  “Hello.”

  “Mom, it’s Rya.”

  “Rya, I know your voice. You don’t have to tell me who it is.” A pause, and I take a deep breath before I begin.

  “I have something to tell you.” This is harder than I thought; even my palms are sweaty. It shouldn’t be this hard.

  “Tell me.” Her voice changes with those two words, as if she’s bracing for the impact of nothing good.

  “I’m—” I can’t say the words, I’m a grown female, and this is difficult.

  “I’m pregnant.” As I exhale those words out of my lungs, a lightness enters me. It feels good actually as I wait for her reply.

  “You’re pregnant.” Each word is spoken clearly with a hint of disbelief.

  “Correct.”

  “How did this happen?” I’m dying internally.

  “How do you think?” Her turn to be quiet again.

  “This is shocking news, Rya, but happy news at the same time. Congratulations.” Suddenly I feel so silly for being nervous to tell her.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Who is this wolf? Where’s he from?”

  “It’s Dallas.”

  “Dallas, but I thought he left—” Her voice trails off from that thought. “How far along are you?”

  “I’m just over eight months along.” I wait for it, pulling my phone from my ear.

  “Eight months! You kept this from us for eight months?” The need to hang up is strong, but I don’t.

  “I got scared, Mom. The longer I didn’t say anything, the worse it became. I have no idea how to tell him.”

  “He doesn’t know? How could you keep that from him? That’s his too.” She’s not pleased with my decisions at all.

  “I was going to tell him. I was waiting for him to get home. He was away for a while. I asked them to have him call me when he got back. He never did call. When I found out he was back for two weeks and never called me, I threw my phone in the ocean. I just cut off contact with all of them.”

  “That was stupid, Rya, but at the same time I can see myself doing something like that when I was your age.”

  “I just don’t know how to tell him. He’s shaved his head; he left, he’s moved on. I would just be a burden to him. I don’t want to be anyone’s burden. At the same time, I need to tell him. It’s his pup. I’m afraid he could take him away from me. What happens if he tries to take him away from me?” Hysteria is starting to build up inside my mind, a panic that makes the pup inside me still, as if danger is around.

  “Do you think he would do that to you?” My mother’s the voice of reason.

  “I’m not sure anymore. I don’t know.” My voice is filled with doubt.

  “You need to tell him, Rya.”

  “I know, I will, soon. Very soon.” I need to change the subject.

  “I mailed you a postcard. You should get it in a few days.”

  “Rya, I’m happy for you. Things have a way of working themselves out. I’m glad you told me before the pup is born. Is it female or male?”

  “Male, and he’s a big one.” I’m already boasting about my pup.

  “Male. I cannot wait to meet thi
s little one. Can I come see you?”

  “When I have him, yes. You can come for a visit. I just need some time to get everything ready first. I don’t want you telling anyone yet because Dallas doesn’t know, and I think I need to be the one to tell him.”

  “I promise, Rya, I won’t even tell your father until you give me the okay.” I believe what she says.

  “I’m going to go now, but I just wanted you to know.”

  “Rya, thanks for telling me. I can’t wait to see you and him.”

  “Bye, Mom. Thanks for understanding.”

  “Bye, Rya.” I end the call feeling way better than when I started the conversation.

  A symphony plays outside, seagulls squawking and crying as they dip and glide effortlessly on the murmuring breeze. The tide rolls in with unstoppable force, waves rising and falling in a babbling tune. The crystalline blue waves look sharp and clear even with the coming of winter.

  The salty sea has already embedded firmly into my pores. I smell almost like a local wolf now. The salt has stripped away the last of my homeland scent. No pines, no maples, no oaks—nothing but wind-swept ocean and gritty sand remains on me.

  Walking the picturesque town, signs are up in most of the stores reading “Closed for the Season, See you in the Spring” scribbled on white sheets of paper taped to the inside of the cute window fronts.

  It’s a ghost town with only a few shops remaining open for the community that lives here all winter long.

  Ambling into the only restaurant that remains open, the little bell chimes, announcing my arrival.

  It took one month before I could sit with the wolves at their round table. It started out slow, the group of six sniffing at me the first time I entered their claimed breakfast joint. They were skittish, wary, on high alert. I sat on the sidelines, at the back, with no view of the water, ordering breakfast for one. Quietly watching them, I listened and learned all I could. I came the next day and every day after that, slowly edging my way to sit at the table just behind them. By then they used to my smell and understood I wasn’t going away, but the most important thing, I was no threat.