by Terra Wolf
I’m sorry, Deedee. Can I call you?
Deacon swallowed. This was the message he’d waited a week for. This was the message he accepted would never come when he begged Lara to put a good word in for him at the clinic, when he let his father deliver another week’s worth of groceries the day before. This was the message he forgot he’d wanted to receive when Maggie Light Foot was sitting beside him.
He felt shame bubbling beneath his skin. How could he be so quick to seek the touch of another woman? He’d never acted like that before; he usually took his time, got to know a person before he went in for a kiss. What was it about Maggie that made him act this way? Was it because of that strange connection they shared – the fact they’d been engaged for all of a day?
He hopped out of the SUV to open the gate and made up his mind.
I’ll call when I’m on break.
Lara settled into the passenger seat of the ambulance and began snacking on twizzlers, a habit he’d once teased her for in their many hours together. He usually found it endearing, but tonight it was just a constant smacking, chewing sound that reminded him he couldn’t make a call.
He wanted to make that call.
“How you feel being back?” Lara asked after two hours of quiet. Living in the middle of nowhere Maine made for some quiet nights, if they were lucky.
He shrugged, too distracted to really engage his old partner. “It’s nice to feel useful, I think.”
She raised her eyebrows, but didn’t speak, digging back in to a twizzler. Lara’s dark hair was up in a tight ponytail, the ends of her hair just grazing the nape of her neck. She was petite, but built like a brick shit house, evidence of her affection for CrossFit. John once made comment that Deacon should try for some extracurricular work activities.
“A girl with thighs like that? Are you kidding me?”
Deacon laughed. John liked to say crass shit, but John had barely slept with anyone for two years when Catherine came along and turned him into a sex fiend.
“Thighs that I’m sure her girlfriend is very fond of,” Deacon said, smiling to see John’s crestfallen expression at hearing Lara didn’t like boys.
The radio burst to life. “Medic 4. We have a 57 year old male complaining of chest pains at 1437 West Seafarer Way. Wife is present, man is conscious.”
Lara snatched up the radio receiver as Deacon pulled the ambulance out onto the main drag. They were ten minutes out. Deacon threw on the lights, but left the sirens silent. There were no cars on the road yet to announce their coming. He barreled down the road, years of living in Blackrock leaving him with perfect memory of every nook and cranny. They pulled into the driveway of the yellow doublewide just as his phone burst to life on the dash – John was calling.
Deacon ignored it, jumping out of the ambulance to meet the troubled woman who stood in a pink bathrobe in the open front door.
George Halsen was conscious and lucid, his pains enough to cause fear, but as Lara and Deacon examined the man, realized he was in no immediate danger. If he’d been having a heart attack, it was a minor one.
Deacon piled back into the driver’s seat, Lara and Mrs. Halsen piled into the back of the ambulance with George relaxing on his gurney, an oxygen mask over his bearded face.
Deacon’s phone lit up on the dash again – John.
For fuck’s sake, you know I’m working, he thought, letting the sirens blip as he came up behind a white Toyota. The drive back to the clinic was short, and George was admitted seamlessly, Lara and Deacon giving their notes and reports to the nurse before heading back out to the ambulance for another round of ‘hurry up and wait.’
Deacon was growing impatient with everything around him. He needed to make that call. He needed to know what Carissa was going to say, what direction his life might turn in.
As they made their way down the hallway, Lara offered to grab him something from the cafeteria, and Deacon grabbed his opportunity. He snuck outside, his breath forming clouds in the frigid air around his face as he pulled up the familiar number.
“Hey.”
The familiarity of the voice, the soft way she spoke, especially at this time of night – it stirred something in him. That voice was the way she used to talk to him, back when things felt better – back when he still thought she liked him. He’d wanted so much to hear that timber in her voice again during the months since she stopped letting him touch her.
“Hey. I’m still at work, so I don’t know how long I will have, but - I didn’t want to make you wait.”
“Oh, Deedee. I don’t want to be a bother,” she said. She was so light now, softened in such a way that it almost felt like a trap. Could she really still want him?
“No, no, Car. You’re not a bother. You know you’re not a bother.”
Deacon shot a glance around the corner of the ambulance. There was no sign of Lara.
“Can you talk?”
“Yeah, I have a minute,” Deacon said, the phone shaking in his hand.
Carissa took a deep breath on the other line. “I wanted you to know that if you wanted to come back down, I’d – I’d like that very much.”
Deacon’s phone buzzed in his hand and he pulled away to look – John.
Deacon silently began plotting his brother’s demise. “Really? Are you sure? I know things haven’t been all that great for a while.”
“No, I know. I know that, but I think that’s my fault as much as it is yours. I think that it – we might be worth talking it through, you know?”
Deacon let the words sink in as he stood there, his EMT uniform freshly cleaned and pressed, the familiar smell and feel of the ambulance just behind him. It was his first day back, how the hell was he going to break this one to Lara? She’d be pissed.
And then, what about Maggie?
God damn it, Deacon. What about Maggie? You’re going to let some schoolboy crush end a year long relationship?
Carissa’s words – the ones that broke his heart just days earlier – played across his mind. He swallowed. “What about what you said – the other day?”
“What about it?”
“You said, ‘if I was the one, you would know.’ Isn’t that what you said?”
She paused. “Yes.”
“Well… am I?”
Carissa went quiet for a moment, and Deacon swallowed, waiting for the response. Despite the heartbreak and longing of the past few days, he couldn’t quite put his finger on this strange feeling. He’d been miserable and prayed for this moment, but now that it had arrived, his stomach was turning. Random notions were racing through his mind – John doesn’t like her, Gramps doesn’t like her, Lara was so excited to have you back, Bennett could use having a friend close by – and then between each of these thoughts, the pinnacle of them all kept skipping through.
Maggie. Maggie. Maggie.
Schoolboy crush or no, would he feel this way for another woman so soon if Carissa was his fate?
“I think that’s something we have to find out together, Deedee.”
“Is it?”
“What?” Carissa asked, and her voice shifted just slightly, a tinge of irritation.
“Car,” Deacon said, and his tongue felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds. “I care for you very much -”
“Oh my god,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.
“- but what you said. What you said really hit me. If I’d been sure, I’d have told Gramps to go screw, wouldn’t I?”
She faltered, ready to protest.
“I could have just let him disown me; just said no. But you were right. I didn’t. I don’t know why I didn’t, but I think – I think you deserve to be with someone who is sure, you know?”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
Deacon took a shaky breath. “And I think I deserve to be with someone who is sure, and you’re not – you’ve never been sure about me.”
Carissa went quiet as Deacon’s phone buzzed with another call from John. Deacon shut it do
wn, waiting for Carissa to respond.
His phone buzzed as a text came in from John.
ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE!
Deacon’s blood began to boil at his brother, but he fought to stay calm for Carissa. Finally, she took a deep breath and swallowed. “Fine.”
Deacon waited for her to go on. As the silence dragged on he found himself desperate to break the silence. “I’m sorry.”
“I know. I am, too. I’ll let you get back to work.”
Before Deacon could say another word, Carissa was gone, the phone beeping to signify she’d hung up.
Out of spite as much as obligation, Deacon pulled up John’s number and pressed send. He was poised with venom for the instant John picked up.
“Get home. Now.”
John’s voice was wrong. That was the only way he could describe the tone – it was just wrong.
“Is Catherine alright? Mom?”
“Yeah, we’re all fine, but your girl’s not.”
Deacon’s heart dropped to his feet. “What? What are you fucking talking about?”
“Dude, all fucking hell broke loose when I brought her home. Did you fucking know she’s been exiled?”
Deacon inhaled. “I did.”
“Yeah, well you might’ve fucking told me that. She’s suiting up as we speak. Chief White Eagle challenged the poor thing to a fucking Kalmud the second she got home.”
“WHEN!?” Deacon’s voice cracked the silence of the parking lot, startling a pair of nurses smoking their cigarettes outside the main door.
“When do you think, Deacon? Now! Right fucking now.”
“But she can’t!”
John scoffed on the other end of the line. “She doesn’t have a fucking choice, man.”
“No, you don’t fucking get it.” Deacon turned toward the building, pulling his car keys from his pocket. “She can’t fight a Kalmud!”
“Tell that to -”
“She’s not a fucking bear, John! She can’t fight!”
John went quiet. Deacon piled into his SUV and started up the engine. He’d text his apologies to Lara. He simply couldn’t wait another moment.
“Do you know where they are?”
John’s tone shifted on the other end of the line. “I think so. Meet me at the rez road.”
Deacon tossed his phone into the passenger seat and took off out of the parking lot, rocketing toward home.
Ten
Maggie watched Deacon’s tail lights disappear in the distance.
He’d kissed her.
She fought to steady herself, her socked feet growing damp from the cool ground. Still, she didn’t dare go back inside. She’d grown up surrounded by bears, she knew they’d smell him on her; smell the way he’d affected her. However fond of their kinsman she was, she wasn’t entirely keen on the idea of Deacon’s mother smelling her son on Maggie’s skin.
But my god, he’d kissed her. And it was wonderful.
Damn it, she thought. That doesn’t help.
She needed to gather her wits, gather her things, and hit the road. Now, she knew she’d carry the memory of Deacon’s lips, and of how his blue eyes felt icy from just inches away, gazing down at her like some pocket sized thing. And as the fates would have it, her best bet for escape was Boston, the city where Deacon lived until just a week ago. Still, Deacon wouldn’t be returning to Boston unless he was returning to the ex-girlfriend.
Fickle are the fates, she thought.
“You comin back in? I’m telling you, my mum’s blueberry pie will change your life. You don’t want to miss this bad boy.”
Maggie turned to find Deacon’s brother standing in the doorway.
She nodded, still wanting to let the cool autumn air dissipate whatever scent Deacon may have left on her; or whatever scent he’d caused her to emit.
God, stupid bears!
Maggie turned back toward the Fenn family home, letting John hold the door open for her. Despite the strangeness she felt in that space; the warmth, the free laughter, the comfort of expression – nothing like a Talbot home - the Fenns seemed oblivious to it, welcoming her in every conversation. When John finally offered to take her home, she’d spent another two hours with Deacon’s family.
John kissed his wife goodbye in the driveway, squeezing her ass hard enough to make her yelp before climbing into his own truck to drive Maggie home. Her cheeks grew warm at the sight of how John treated his wife – of the open affection and tension they seemed to carry, as though they were always just a few moments away from tearing each other’s clothes off. Maggie couldn’t help but imagine that with Deacon. Would he grab her ass in his parents’ driveway? He did kiss her there.
Stop it, Light Foot. You’re not a rebound girl. Stop acting like one.
Maggie took a deep breath as she settled into the passenger seat. One more trip back to the rez. One more visit to the only home she’d ever known, collect her things, her phone, her wallet, then make the trip to Machias, Augusta, Bangor, wherever her hitchhiking might get her.
She didn’t look forward to the next twenty four hours, and she was frustrated.
Why couldn’t she have met Deacon any time before now? They lived less than four miles from each other’s doorstep, yet she’d never so much as seen those blue eyes from across a restaurant, a bar, not even a classroom. She silently cursed her family for keeping her out of Blackrock schools.
“You further inland, or are you down by the water?”
Maggie startled, realizing she’d tranced out as John crossed the boundary into the rez. “Sorry, yeah. I’m down by the water. Turn right up here.”
John did as he was told, the quiet houses and trailers passing in darkness as they turned onto her father’s road. The cottage was pitch black up ahead. Maggie stiffened at the sight, wondering where Papa might be. It was only six or so, he wouldn’t be in bed yet.
“You expecting company?”
Maggie felt her stomach drop through the floor of the truck as headlights appeared in the road behind them, cornering them in her driveway.
“Shit. Oh shit, shit, shit!”
Maggie lunged for the door of the truck, jumping out and into the driveway to wave at the oncoming cars. “He’s not with me. I just hitchhiked a ride from him.”
John’s brow furrowed and he began to put the truck into park.
She hissed at him, fighting to hide her panic. “Just pull around on the lawn. Get out of here!”
“Light Foot, what’s going on?” John asked, his seat belt already undone. That name used by Deacon’s brother felt instantly familiar, only further driving her need to keep him out of this.
“You return to the land as though you’ve some right to it, child,” Richard White Eagle bellowed from the spotlights ahead. He wasn’t visible, his silhouette framed by headlights beyond, but he was felt, nonetheless.
Maggie shielded her eyes to look at him. “I just forgot my phone, a couple of things. I swear, that’s all. No one knows I’m here.”
Richard chuckled, softly. “Your scent was all over the house this morning. Half eaten breakfast. Your phone with recent texts. Do I strike you as dumb, girl?”
Fuck. Fuck, shit, fuck!
“I swear, I was leaving tonight. I swear!”
“Yes, tonight is four days late, Maggie. If you wanted to be a part of this tribe, you should have behaved that way.”
Two more figures got out of the cars, coming to stand at Richard’s side. She recognized them by gait alone; the chief’s sons. John was still in the driver’s seat of his truck, staring into the rear view mirror, the light reflected on his face as though he waited for some kind of signal.
Damn it, John! Go, she thought.
Richard’s son Graham rounded the bed of the truck, coming to the driver’s side door and stopping at the sight of John’s face.
“It’s a Fenn.”
Richard shifted in the headlights, and she could see his face. He was glaring at her with a new fury. Apparently, her being with a
Fenn was not a welcome thing.
“Is this why you refused your chosen mate? To pursue some other male of their clan? Is this some Fenn scheme to repeal the land deal?”
“No! Chief, I swear. He just gave me a ride!”
Graham slammed a fist into the door of John’s truck. “Leave. Now.”
John started to speak, trying to defend himself and her, but none of the Talbots would hear it. They’d made up their mind, and Richard White Eagle was not one to be convinced.
Maggie put her hands up as though someone pointed a gun at her. She could feel the threat in the very air.
John called out his open window. “I swear, sir -”
Chief seemed to only grow angrier with every word from John’s mouth. Maggie waved at John, urging him to leave while he could. Richard met her gaze, his eyes burning into her with such fury, she feared he could read her mind.
“Margaret Light Foot Porter -”
Oh god. He’d used her birth family’s name. Oh god.
“I challenge you to Kalmud.”
Maggie’s stomach twisted into itself as a pathetic wail called from the dark house behind her. She didn’t have to look to see the source – her father had heard the challenge, too.
Eleven
“Do you have the scent?”
Deacon launched out of his car, rushing across the road to meet his brother. John stood just outside his truck, their cars parked at the boundary of the rez.
He shook his head. “No, but I know where they were headed.”
The peninsula. The reservation touched the sea at its southernmost point, cutting out into the water in a jagged, tree covered jetty that offered such harsh terrain, no one could build there. They’d taken her by car, John said, her father openly weeping and fighting to get in the car alongside. They’d refused him, and he’d followed along in his own beat up sedan, his tires skidding across the gravel driveway as he took off in pursuit.
Deacon’s stomach turned at the thought. The peninsula was down a long, winding road toward the south – on a good night it was a twenty minute drive through thick forest and narrow cuts through the landscape. He and John had taken the hunting trail down to the peninsula many times on ATVs, cutting the travel time in half. Sadly, they weren’t riding ATVs tonight.
