Tiger Lily

by May Dawson

  Both for the sake of my own pride, and because I hate crying so much, I tend to accidentally shift. Brad can’t know my secret. Even after two years together, I’ve never told him what I really am.

  I steeled my heart as I pushed another hanger aside.

  There she was.

  She hunched over as if to make herself smaller, in between my black wool winter coat and my favorite white halter dress that I always thought would make a good wedding dress if I eloped with Brad. Her dark hair curled around her face, and an inappropriate, terrified smile slowly spread across her face as her eyes met mine, as if she didn’t know what to do either.

  She started to squeak out, “Hi.”

  “You can go,” I told her, my voice coming out ice cold. I turned to Brad. “You were cheating on me.”

  “It’s not what it looks like,” Brad said.

  “There’s a naked woman in my closet, Brad. There’s a pretty limited range of options.”

  She scurried past the two of us, gathering her clothes and her shoes, and practically sprinted for the door. I was pretty sure she was still naked as she stumbled into the hallway. The door slamming shut seemed to echo through the apartment.

  “Did she know you and I were together?” I demanded. He was the target of my fury, but I didn’t know if I felt sorry for her, or if I hoped she forgot her shirt under our bed and had to parade half-naked all the way home. “Have you been doing this for a long time?”

  “It’s not her fault,” he said defensively, and I thought he was going to take the blame. Then he added, “It’s yours.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s yours,” he repeated, beginning to get louder. He jumped out of bed and stood on the other side, wearing nothing but the boxers and t-shirt he must have yanked on in a hurry before I came in. “You never want to have sex with me anymore. You wear leggings everyday—leggings aren’t sexy. You sing Disney songs all the time. Do you know how annoying that is?”

  I felt a rumble in my chest. Nope. Not now.

  His voice kept rising. “You’re not a Disney princess, Lily! You’re just an ordinary boring girl, nothing special, and I—“

  I growled, a sound deep in my chest that I couldn’t help. I covered my mouth with my hand, horrified.

  He stared at me for a second, frowning, then must decide it was his imagination, because he went on. Oh no. Please shut up. Please, please, please.

  “I deserve better, frankly,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you, but it’s time for me to move on.”

  “Pack your stuff and get out.” My voice came out deeper than usual, a bit of a growl, and I coughed.

  “I’m not leaving,” he said, too distracted by his own newly manufactured self-righteousness to realize there’s something wrong with me. “You can leave. I paid for half the deposit, and I don’t want to—”

  “You need to go.” My voice came out in a half roar.

  He stared at me. “What’s wrong with you?”

  His voice was full of contempt.

  I pressed my hand to the top of my head, trying to hide the cat ears that I can feel suddenly push up my springy orange curls. Then my hand—paw—suddenly felt heavy.

  I couldn’t stop it anymore.

  As I tigered out, he started screaming. But the volume of his voice was lost to the rush of blood through my ears as I dropped to all fours. I tried to fight it, knowing I shouldn’t shift in front of Brad, but my brain couldn’t control my broken heart anymore.

  It was a relief to let go of this damned human-skin.

  3

  When I called my grandfather from the wreckage of my apartment—it doesn’t matter that I found the coolest lamp at the Crate and Barrel outlet, my inner cat apparently deeply resents table lamps—he listened to my whole sob story, before he admitted he had his own.

  He’d fallen off a ladder and broken his arm

  So I headed home to Silver Springs.

  Still, a strange sense of calm came over me as I drove toward Silver Springs, and once I entered the city limits—and the wards that protect Silver Springs’ magic from being seen by humans—my stress seemed to drop away entirely. I drove the cute, quaint streets before I turned toward home, checking out the new stores and restaurants, some of them owned by my childhood friends. Then I drove past the park and the orphanage to my childhood home and parked in front of the house.

  As I got out of the car, I contemplated the white house from a distance. Was it just my imagination, or did it lean a bit more to the left than it used to? That was fine for the tower of Pisa, not so much for the house that’s been in my family for generations.

  “Hey Grandpa!” I called as I came into the house. Part of me wouldn’t believe that he broke his arm until I saw a cast. My grandfather was tricky and competitive and sweetly obsessed with me.

  Right now, part of me wanted to come home. But even at twenty-four, something about my granddad’s insistence made me feel a teenage resistance.

  Maybe we were both stubborn as cats, as my mother used to claim, despite my grandfather being human.

  The house carried a familiar scent of old wood and a faint campfire smokiness due to my grandfather’s love for his woodstove, and I stopped to inhale deeply. It smelled like home.

  My grandfather shuffled into the entryway, and my heart ached at the sight. He looked older every time I saw him. But he still wore one of his signature jaunty bowties, and matching suspenders held up his gray trousers on his angular frame. He dressed awfully spiffy for a man who hardly left his house now.

  “Hey Grandpa,” I said easily, hugging him while being careful of the cast on his arm. “You really did hurt yourself.”

  “Did you doubt me, young lady?”

  “Oh never,” I lied. I pecked a kiss on his wrinkled cheek. “What do you need from me?”

  “To see your sweet face every day,” he said.

  “I’ve got to get back home soon and find a new job,” I reminded him.

  “You could stay here.”

  “I’m twenty-four. What am I going to do? Are you going to give me an allowance?”

  “I’m open to negotiations,” he offered.

  I grinned and shook my head, dropping my suitcase at the base of the stairs. My school photos lined the wall, marching up the stairs in matching gold frames, chronicling my progression from adorable preschooler to teenager with braces, a nose that didn’t quite fit my face for a few years, and big hair. Delightful décor.

  “Everyone’s coming back home,” he added. “Remember the boys down the street at the orphanage? You and they used to fight like cats and dogs?”

  “Yes,” I said cautiously. My heart beat faster when I pictured their faces. Dylan. Blake. Archer. I could see the orphanage from here if I walked back out on the front porch—but of course, they’d grown up and moved away too.

  They were shifters too, but dog shifters. My grandfather could never resist a pun, even when he really should.

  “They came home too! Started a new business.”

  “Great,” I said impatiently, because I didn’t want Grandpa to get the impression I was interested in hearing anything about them.

  “Perfect job for them, really,” he said, half to himself. “Now they don’t have to chase the cars. The cars come to them.”

  I sighed at the bad joke. “They never would chase cars. Lupine would scold them, and they’re a little scared of her.”

  “Would they chase cats?” My grandfather asked innocently, and I frowned at him, shaking my head.

  He was watching me keenly, and I had to laugh. “You just really want me to settle back down in Silver Springs, get married, and crank out some great-grand-babies, don’t you?”

  “Yep,” he said without hesitation. “As long as you marry the right guy. You know, I don’t have that long to enjoy great-grand-babies.”

  “Don’t start that,” I protested.

  “I’m not afraid to die, Lil,” he said. “I lived a wonderful life. Served in the Na
vy, saw the world, raised a beautiful daughter. Then, bonus, I’m so glad I got to raise you. I just miss cradling a baby.”

  He pretended to hold a baby, as best as he could with one arm in a cast. As he rocked from side-to-side, he wobbled a bit. If he really were holding a baby—even a baby plant—I’d rush to save it.

  “I’ll see if I can find one when I go grocery shopping,” I patted him on the shoulder as I headed into the kitchen. The man lived on peanut-butter-and-jelly and hot dogs; the grocery store was always one of my first stops when I came for a longer visit. “There is a baby aisle, what else is it for?”

  I swung open the fridge door. It was about as barren as I’d expect, except for a glass dish of something covered in tin foil. I lifted a corner curiously. “Who’s feeding you lasagna?”

  “Maybe I’m feeding me lasagna.”

  I scoffed at that. “I feel like you’re forgetting I grew up with you. On a steady diet of hot dogs.”

  Hot dogs with beans. Hot dogs in macaroni and cheese. Hot dogs on the grill served with all the fixings, and hot dogs sliced down the middle and pan-fried with eggs. Most other meat-related items were scary to my grandfather. Hot dogs came pre-cooked, so he felt the risk was low that he would poison me.

  Meanwhile, in my shifted form, I occasionally ate things I found in the forest. I would wake up with a full belly, next to a pile of small bones, with some serious questions about what I was doing with my life.

  My grandpa is so adorably human.

  In pursuit of a pen that worked, I opened his junk drawer and sifted through stray batteries, loose change, pencils, a bottle opener, stamp books, a check book without any checks, and assorted crumpled receipts. I pulled the receipts out to throw into the trash, then stopped as one catches my eye. I waved it at him. “Do you need this receipt from the, ah, fabric store?”

  I blink in total confusion.

  “No,” he said with dignity. “Maybe you don’t know everything about me, Lily.”

  “Clearly not,” I agreed. “Maybe you should make me lasagna and wow me with your quilting skills.”

  “My arm’s in a cast.” He raised it dramatically.

  “Not forever.”

  “You’d have to stay here for it to matter.”

  “Maybe I will stay here if it turns out you can cook.” I shot back. I dropped the receipt back into the junk drawer; never throw away evidence. Then I added, “You know, if I do stay, I’ll ferret out your secrets.”

  “Ferret away. Strange word choice for a little cat, though.”

  I leaned over the kitchen island, propping my chin on my hand as I wrote out my grocery list. “I’m not a little cat. I’m a big cat.”

  Regular cat shifters raced through Silver Springs all the time, but I didn’t want to scare anyone by wandering through Silver Springs as a long, sleek tiger. I hadn’t shifted in front of anyone since I was a little kid. Right after my mom died, I’d spent most of my time as a cat.

  But eventually, it had been time to face life as a human. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t shift to get away from life—I’d only shift deep in the woods.

  When I think of how I lost it in front of Brad, shame burns in my gut. But I go right on writing down milk and orange juice and fruit so Grandpa doesn’t die of scurvy.

  “Why are you so reluctant to show anyone who you really are?” he asked me tenderly, leaning on the kitchen counter too, although when he does it, I worry he’ll need help to straighten up.

  “I’m not,” I said. “And oh my gosh, Grandpa, you should see the damage I did in my apartment.”

  Brad had fled, wide-eyed and stuttering. My memories in cat-form were always a blur, but the hazy memory of him slamming the front door behind him still gave me a twinge of mingled guilt and satisfaction.

  “I just think it’s weird that you don’t want anyone to see you shift. Is it because you have a hard time being vulnerable after losing both your parents?”

  “Do you have a hard time not psychoanalyzing people ten minutes after they arrive at your house?”

  He stared at me for a second, then admitted, “Yes.”

  “I’m going grocery shopping,” I said in exasperation. “Be good while I’m gone.”

  “You be good!” he called right before I closed the front door.

  I grinned; we’ve always played to see who could get the last word in.

  “I love you!” I screamed, standing on the front porch, then ran for my car.

  But I still heard him scream back, “I love you too!” at the top of his lungs, because he didn’t want to lose.

  And because he loved me.

  I was grinning in the car when I realized I didn’t remember the last time I smiled so easily.

  4

  As I drove to the grocery store, I glimpsed a cute magic shop on the side of the road. My grandfather had been complaining about the pain killers when we talked on the phone, so on a whim, I stopped. Magic was better than Motrin.

  I walked in and found an adorable little shop. Bells chimed above the door, and I glanced around, looking for the owner.

  A giant dog came racing out of the back.

  That was definitely not the owner.

  “Easy, boy,” I said, taking a step back, and my calves bumped into a cushioned chair. I almost fell into it.

  The dog lunged at me, barking more.

  “Oh, sorry! Are you not a boy?” I jumped up on top of the chair, not that it would help much. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  I had an irrational fear of real dogs. It’s a cat thing.

  Even though, as a tiger, I could’ve knocked the dog’s tail right into next week. I would never do that, though. The dog didn’t meant to scare me.

  “Mika, here.” At the sound of the soft, feminine voice, Mika stopped barking. A young woman with soft brunette waves stepped into the room, and Mike dropped her head, then laid on the floor with her head on her paws.

  “I am so sorry,” the woman said to me, looking at me with wide eyes.

  I laughed at myself as I stepped off the chair, running my hand through my curls to push them back. “No, that’s okay. I should be the one that’s sorry. I must have looked pretty ridiculous standing on the furniture. I’m just a little nervous around dogs. Being a cat shifter, it kind of comes with the territory.”

  “Believe it or not, Mika used to be afraid of everyone. I’m not sure what changed, but she loves meeting new people now.” She held her hand out to shake. “I'm Willow, by the way. And welcome to my shop.”

  “I’m Lily,” I said, shaking her hand. “I’m actually here for my grandfather. He broke his arm and he’s in a lot of pain. The pain relievers that he currently has don’t seem to be working. Do you have anything that could help him?”

  “I actually have a few things.” She turned and grabbed two bottles off the shelf behind me and placed them on the counter. She pointed to the smaller bottle. “This one he will only need to take twice a day by mouth. This one he will use when the cast comes off. It’s an oil that he can rub into the muscles to loosen them up.”

  “Thank you so…” I glanced down at her feet at sudden movement, only to find the enormous hulking dog coming at me. I jumped back, pressing my palm over my suddenly rapid-beating heart. She’s just a dog; she’s trying to be friendly. Her little nub of a tail was waving back and forth, no matter how big and terrifying she was.

  Strangest of all, the dog had a book in her mouth.

  She suddenly dropped the book, just as Willow leaned over the counter to get a look.

  The dog dropped the book at my feet, then took a few steps back and sat down.

  I’m not keen on dog slobber, but I bent and picked up the book, placing it on the counter. The bright cover drew my gaze, but not in a good way; four guys surrounded one girl, and they seemed to be wearing… flower underwear. What a weird book. Love Blooms blossomed across the front of the cover.

  “Ignore the cover. I know it’s cringe-worthy, but the rest of the b
ook will be worth it. It’s Mika’s gift to you.”

  Maybe the dog felt bad for scaring me—stranger things were possible in Silver Springs—and I should take it to be polite. Still, it had been years since I read a cheesy romance.

  Willow giggled. “Trust me, I felt the same way when I was first gifted the book. Just give it a chance and then promise me you’ll come back and we can discuss it over coffee.”

  “Okay,” I said, slipping the book into my purse and pulling out my wallet to pay as she began to punch numbers into the register. “Never look a gift dog in the mouth, right?”

  Mika leaned against my legs as I checked out, and I smiled, reaching down tentatively to pat her between the ears.

  Bad things are only supposed to come in threes, but as I was driving home, my engine started to sputter.

  “No,” I groaned, pulling over to the side of the road just before it died entirely. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Especially when ice cream had been on sale. I had four half-gallons that were probably already melting on my passenger seat. I put my forehead down on the steering wheel.

  I called AAA, then leaned back in my seat, waiting for a tow. I pulled one of my shopping bags over and cracked open the top of a carton to find my ice cream looking concernedly wet.

  With a groan, I set the ice cream on the dashboard and searched through my car for a spoon. Then I adjusted my expectations and searched for something I could use as a spoon.

  As I was rummaging through my purse, I found the copy of Love Blooms that Willow had given me. I pulled the romance novel out of my purse and shrugged my shoulders. I had time to kill—maybe it was time to explore the next evolution of romance novels.

  I read a stack of romance novels one boring summer when I was seventeen with my best friend Lupine. We used to make a little extra pocket change cleaning houses. One sweet little grandmother had a huge collection of cheesy but highly erotic paperbacks, and she sent us off to Goodwill with two big boxes of them.

  But Lupe and I never made it to Goodwill. We read through each of them that summer, texting each other when we reached the obligatory spanking scene in that particular line of romances. Spanking on p 74—she slapped him during an argument and we all know how THAT ends.