by Holley Trent
He closed his eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re insulting me.”
“No. I just…didn’t realize you two were so much alike. She’s very peculiar. I guess we all are, but she has certain quirks that make her Astrid. I guess they’re only unique within the Shrews and not in the Falk family. Do you have the same eidetic memory?”
“Nope.”
“Probably about the same IQ, though.”
“I couldn’t say. Astrid and I have never compared notes on that.”
“But you were tested?”
“Sure.”
“If you were tested, it was because someone was curious. Schools don’t test unless they’re curious.”
“Or if the kid has special needs.”
“Right. And…”
“I did. Do, rather, I guess. I compensate pretty well for it now, but I’m dyslexic.”
“Oh!”
He rolled onto his back and cradled his head atop his hands. “It was caught early because my parents knew to look. My mother was a learning disability specialist.”
Maria perched on the end of the bed, facing the kitchenette. “I remember Astrid telling me that. And your father…he—”
“He—”
“No.” She put up her hands and shook her head. “No, no. Let me remember. I can do this. I don’t always tune out. I…” She drummed the bed with her fingers and whispered to herself in a stream of words too broken for Eric to catch the gist.
Bemused, Eric watched her lips flutter and her brow furrow with obvious frustration. He couldn’t imagine what she might have been like if she’d grown up in a more mainstream household. She had some serious social and emotional deficits—that was obvious—but she was well attuned to other things in ways folks like Eric weren’t. She was a people-watcher and a good judger of moods and motivations. Those weren’t skills that necessarily came easily, but they certainly helped her do her job.
“He…uh… Oh.” She turned and gave his shin a poke. “Something about…wood. Pulp and paper!”
“Right. He was a pulp and paper chemist.”
“Ah, now my brain can breathe a sigh of relief.” She flopped back onto the bed and giggled.
“Good job, Granola.”
“I knew it was in there somewhere. Astrid can pluck information out of nowhere. She could probably remember the exact hole in a piece of lace that a fly landed next to. I’ve gotta work harder to pull up the information.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. It just takes practice.”
“That’s what Doc says. She said I wasn’t forced to fetch information enough as a kid and that I suck at it now.”
“Yeah? What else does Doc tell you? Does she tell you that you don’t sleep enough and that Shrew or not, your body can’t fully heal or your brain can’t make the appropriate neural connections if you don’t get enough rest?”
Maria cringed. “She might have said that.”
Eric picked up a length of her hair that had fallen near his face and twirled it around his fingers. “You can’t remember or you just don’t want to remember it?”
“No, I remember.”
He laughed. “See.”
“Go ahead with the told-you-so and get it out of your system.”
“I’m not gonna do that. I think you already know you do a shitty job taking care of yourself. I harp on it with you the same way I harp on Astrid. Well, I used to harp on Astrid. I don’t have to so much anymore. Fabian does a pretty good job of it without any interference from me.”
“He…loves her,” she said in a near-whisper.
It didn’t seem so much like a statement of fact but more of amusement—as if it were some unexpected thing. Eric found that odd. “Why do you make that sound like such a fanciful occurrence?”
Maria shrugged. “I…I don’t mean to. It does amuse me, though, that none of them—Dana, Sarah, Tamara, or Astrid—were looking to be with anyone. None of them were ready to date and had all been single since the drug trial. They didn’t even…you know.”
He thought he knew, but he didn’t want to know specifics, especially not pertaining to his little sister.
“And yet, every one of them fell for a guy on the job.”
“Guys who understood what it meant to be a little weird. That counts for something, don’t you think?”
“Does it matter so much?”
That was obviously her upbringing coloring her impression. He might have gotten annoyed with it a few years ago, but it was glaringly clear to him that she really didn’t know any better. “In terms of relationships, yes, compatibility matters a lot,” he said. “You can’t force compatibility.”
“I’ve never tried to. But I’ve…never wanted to be with anyone for longer than a day.”
“Why not?”
“I grew up thinking that was normal. At least, for my mother, it was.”
“Do you think it’s normal?”
“It feels like my normal, and look at it from my perspective. The one man I dated in more than a casual capacity referred me to that drug trial.”
“I’m sorry he did that. I’m sorry all of you had to go through that, and I hope you don’t think that’s normal behavior for a man.”
“For the Shrew cross-section of society, it seems to be.”
“You should take it as a compliment that he wanted to change you. That he couldn’t handle you as you were because you were too fierce or too smart. Or because you had too much passion.”
“I don’t know what he wanted from me. Why he would… Why would he do that?”
Her tone was usually so even and flat that on the rare occasion that it went breathy from fear or anxiety, his heart raced. It wasn’t just his inner bear agitated by her discomfort, but the man part of him that had always wanted to shield her from the world as well. He still wanted to, and didn’t think he was doing a very good job of it at the moment.
“Hey.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Does it matter now?”
“No. I guess it doesn’t. I don’t want him anymore.”
“But you’d kill him if you saw him again.”
“I did see him after the study.”
“So either you were able to control your murderous impulses or you hid the body very well.” He laughed, but her expression was dark.
That telltale cheek twitched.
Shit.
She nudged his hand away and turned her back to him.
“Maria, what did you do to him?”
“What makes you think I did anything to him?”
“Because I know you.”
“And you think I’m some kind of homicidal woman scorned.”
“I know there’s a side of you that’s very soft that I rarely get to see. Everyone else gets to see it. There’s no way for me to know what you’ve shown to other men. For all I know, I’m the first you’ve been so…practical with.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“I believe you.” But?
“But I hit him. I hit him hard, and I sat there waiting for five minutes for him to wake up so I could threaten to hit him again. I wanted to make him flinch because he didn’t want to apologize.” She rolled onto her other side and caught his gaze in the dim light. “That’s what I did, so congratulations. You pegged me again.”
“You think I take joy in this?”
She shrugged her top shoulder. “Do you?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not. I like being right as much as the next guy, but not continuously at your expense. I don’t get any pleasure out of making you confess things to me.”
“So why do you make me do it?”
“Because I’m in a unique position to make you do it. Who else is going to?”
“Why would you even care?”
“I…” Because he’d been in love with her for as long as he’d known her, in spite of her numerous deficiencies. Lord knew he had enough of his own that he couldn’t climb up on his high horse for too long without getting knocked off.
He gr
ound his teeth and closed his eyes again. “You deserve it. You deserve to actually feel that inner peace you’re always preaching about and to be comfortable in your own skin.”
And to be comfortable enough to let someone else in, and not just into her body, but into her heart. Well, not just anyone, but him, specifically. He couldn’t think of a single other person who could handle her. And maybe he was a little like her in a way. If there was a guy who came close, Eric might just find him and hit him hard enough that the guy might not wake up, too.
But maybe that was the bear in him talking. It was so hard to tell whether it was man or beast running the show lately.
___
Eric’s phone alarm went off in what seemed like five minutes later. He got up, being very careful not to disrupt Maria from obviously needed slumber, and made his way to the tiny bathroom. He got in and out before commode claustrophobia could settle in, redressed, and jogged across the parking lot to the open superstore.
He used to joke about those kinds of places for being open all night, saying that the folks who benefitted most from the obscene shopping hours were potheads, college students, and folks who worked the graveyard shift. He could see the benefits of the place for travelers, though, and judging by the other RVs parked in the lot, he wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the brightly lit, bustling premises.
Moving efficiently through the grocery section with a cart, he loaded up with fruit, vegetables that didn’t need much handling, eggs, cheese, good bread, some meat for him—because he was a fucking Bear—and various other perishables small enough to fit into a compact refrigerator. In front of the cases of bottled water, he paused to pluck his vibrating phone out of his pocket.
On the screen was a message from Bryan. The Bear alpha obviously got up early.
Status?
Eric thumbed in Stopped for a couple of hours to nap. Parked in a store lot. Inside now getting real food to eat. Two hours south of destination. About to move again.
Noted. Everything all right?
I’m alive?
Not what I meant. Any weird Bear stuff? Feeling amorous at all?
Maybe. I don’t know.
?
It’s complicated.
Explain. It was a yes or no question. You should know the answer.
Eric shoved the twenty-four pack of water under the cart and moved forward a bit, out of the way of the store clerk who was trying to run a dust mop under the lowest shelf.
Like I said. Really complicated. There’s a reason Maria and I are hostile to each other.
You mean other than general personality clashes?
Keep this between us.
What are you telling me?
That I’ve known her for a long time, and that I know her probably better than anyone. Eric swooped down the chip aisle and grabbed a couple of things he hoped kids would like. He always served plain chips at the lodge because it was easiest to go with one flavor for everyone if he had to serve them at all, but he figured he could put some effort into it for the sake of those scared children.
Just be careful, Bryan said. You know how it goes with Shrews.
Nah, I really don’t. Explain it to me.
Hang tight.
Eric tucked his phone back into his pocket, did a run through the candy aisle grabbing chocolate and Skittles, and made his way toward the registers.
There were no lines. Maybe there was something appealing about getting his shopping done at dark o’clock in the morning. Sure, the bread was picked over and most of the fruit was dinged up, but there was no one there running over his feet with their shopping cart wheels or parking their buggies in asshole diagonals so people couldn’t get around them in aisles.
He paid, and let out a little exhalation of relief to see the lights inside the RV were still off. When they got done with their mission, he was going to make that woman sleep. He didn’t care if he had to sit on her to do it, but he wouldn’t let up until he was satisfied she was well rested.
His phone buzzed as he approached the door, and glancing at the screen, he cringed at the paragraphs-long message. Bryan must have been typing messages from his computer. There was no way a guy with thumbs as big as Bryan’s was fiddling with a tiny touchscreen.
You should have paid more attention to me, Patrick, Felipe, and Fabian. You can’t fight these women because they’re tuned to snap back if you try. They are what they are. Contrariness is their defense mechanism. The best you can do is try to steer them away from destructive behaviors. I’m guessing you’re invested in doing that. Nobody else would want to be bothered, right?
Eric had just been thinking that.
I can’t tell you what to do with her. I don’t know her that well, and Tam is as mystified by her as I am. But you should be ahead of the curve. You’re not being thrown together on this job as strangers, so you’ve got a running start the rest of us didn’t have.
And by the way—if you’re feeling Bear-ish, you probably need to be upfront with her about that.
“No way,” Eric muttered. That was exactly what he didn’t need—his Bear wanting his wild oats sowed and Maria being perfectly welcoming of that because it meant she’d get vigorous sex out of it.
I guess I’m relieved in a way that the reason you two don’t get along isn’t because of petty personality squabbles. I’m not saying there’s an easy fix for this, but hey. It’s a good situation.
That, Eric had to respond to. Maybe. I hope so. I’m trying. She’s got a lot of baggage.
They all do, Bryan texted.
“Not like Maria, though.” He typed, About to get moving. Again, keep what I said between us? I don’t want Astrid to meddle. She’ll worry, probably more about Maria than me.
Deleting the thread now. Check in when you’re near the school.
10-4.
Eric deleted the conversation on his end, too, and then pulled open the RV door.
Maria sat up, rubbing her eyes as he climbed in with the first few bags.
“Just sit tight. I’ll bring everything up, and you can tuck it away as I get this thing back on the road.” He deposited the bags, and returned to the ground for the rest and the case of water.
“How long were you gone?” She raised her arms over her head in a long stretch that elongated her spine and made her full breasts thrust forward.
His inner bear did the psychic equivalent of giving Eric a hard poke of the shoulder and going, “Huh? Huh? See that?”
I see it, you horny motherfucker.
“Not long,” Eric responded when he pulled his gaze upward and found she’d raised a curious eyebrow at him. “Maybe twenty minutes. I wanted to make sure that we would be okay if we end up unable to stop within easy reach of civilization for a while after we grab the kids.”
“Got ya.”
He ran the cart to the nearby corral and returned to the RV to find her kneeling in front of the tiny fridge putting perishables away.
“Probably going to need more milk,” she said.
He got the RV started and snapped the tongue of his seatbelt into the groove. “I thought that, but I had to choose between the gallon-sized jug and not being able to fit other things in there.”
“Maybe we’ll be lucky and they’ll hate milk.”
“Knowing our luck, I doubt it.”
He was picking up speed on the highway going north when Maria made her way up to the front and dropped herself into the passenger seat holding a container of yogurt and a plastic spoon.
She put on her seatbelt, plugged her phone into the charger, then peeled back the foil on the cup. “My brain doesn’t understand this phenomenon of available food. This time of morning, I’m usually staked out somewhere and can’t move from my spot without risking missing my target.”
“That’s mostly what you do for the Shrews, right? Surveillance?”
“Yeah. That’s my shtick, I guess. Dana says it’s because I’m the most observant, and that may be true, but I also know I’m the least
skilled with weapons and my reflex time is slower than Dana, Sarah, and Tamara’s.”
“But not Astrid’s.”
“Astrid’s is about like mine, but she’s got good aim. I don’t have her aim.”
“We grew up around guns. Our grandfather used to take us hunting with him and he wanted to make sure we could always provide for ourselves, even when times were very lean.”
“I guess he would have seen the importance of that, coming out of Germany after the war.”
“Yeah, he and my grandmother were very frugal in their personal lives. All the money they saved from not having anything for themselves went into the business. They didn’t think about having kids until they’d been in the US for about ten years, and my grandmother was over forty when my father was born. He was their only child.”
“And that’s why you and Astrid ended up inheriting the lodge.”
He grunted. “Yeah. It’s just the two of us left here. We’re in touch with some of our cousins in Germany and might get to go see them after Astrid has the baby.”
“That sounds like fun.”
He glanced over at her and watched her brow furrow as she dipped her spoon into the yogurt cup. “Why do you sound so wistful?”
She shrugged in his periphery. “I guess I’m a little bit jealous. I don’t know much about my family. I mean, I know more about my father’s family than my mother’s. I’m not close to my father’s family anymore because I haven’t seen them in years. With my mother’s family, I just…I don’t. She was so secretive about them. I know my mother left home for college and got caught up in protesting and advocacy. She fell into a group of ‘change-makers,’ as she called them, and I think everything in her life became about upending things. Institutions, I mean.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
Maria grunted softly. “I definitely wonder now what sort of environment she came out of for her to have become such a radical.”
