Reaper

by Lena North

The big sprawling ranch was just starting to come awake when we left so there wasn’t a lot of people around. Wilder came out on the porch and Olly walked over to talk to her but I fiddled with my saddlebags, hoping she assumed we'd just keep each other company part of the way.

  When I’d decided to visit my grandfather, I checked every available source to ascertain that there wouldn’t be any danger, and had asked my dragonflies to be on the lookout. I’d texted Gramps early that morning to tell him I wouldn’t come after all, and he grumbled but promised to tell my brothers about my route, so I was pretty sure we’d be safe. We only made a couple of short stops and Olly’s face turned harder each time, which I assumed was from worry about his father. I was anyway still nervous about the long drive so I didn't protest about the pace we kept.

  Then we reached the small mountain town where he'd grown up. I'd searched the net for pictures over the years but most of what I'd found was what the few skiers who went there posted, bragging about how they'd walked up the mountain to ski the slopes. I'd grown up skiing, and it hadn’t been in the major ski resorts so I knew all about walking up a mountain, and the feeling that hit you when you turned to look down on wide acres of soft, untouched snow. Winter was approaching and if Olly and I were still seeing each other then, I hoped they'd let me use the lifts in Norton. It would be great to ski with him.

  I’d also seen a few pictures showing a quaint village center, although I didn’t get to see any of it because we turned off the main road just as we passed the town limits. Olly took us down a gravel road leading toward what looked like a farmhouse, on the outskirts of town, in an area which was mostly flat. I raised my brows in surprise because this I hadn’t known. He’d grown up on a farm?

  There was a strange silence hanging in the air as we walked up the steps to a covered porch stretching out along the front of the house. I turned to look at the meadows and clusters of trees surrounding the houses and wondered if all animals had left or if they just held their breath.

  “Come on, Annie,” Olly said and held the door open to let me into the house where he’d grown up.

  His father was in the kitchen, sitting at the table and staring at a sandwich that probably had been made several days before. His flannel shirt was dirty and it looked like he hadn’t showered in weeks.

  “Da,” Olly said.

  His voice was calm, but the hoarseness in it tore through me, and I took hold of his hand.

  “Son?” the older man said and stared at us as if he was still asleep. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were…” he trailed off and shook his head. “Did you tell me you were coming?”

  Olly squeezed my hand so hard it hurt, and I moved a little.

  “No,” he said. “This is Annie.”

  “Annie?”

  The man still seemed stunned, by our sudden appearance or perhaps by the blow life had landed him but as he glanced over at me, he made an effort to pull himself together.

  “Hello, Annie,” he said. “I’m Sven.”

  “Hey,” I whispered.

  There was a long silence which seemed to last forever. Sven looked down at the plate in front of him, made a small move as if he tried to get up but just couldn't make it, and sighed. Olly was still holding on to my hand and breathing so heavily it seemed to echo in the big kitchen.

  “Da,” Olly said again but trailed off.

  I knew I had to do something, for him and for his father and I had no clue what to say but doing nothing wouldn’t help them.

  “Right,” I said. “How about some coffee?”

  Neither of the men replied so I walked over to open the fridge. It was almost empty, and I turned with a small smile. “Olly?”

  “Ye –”

  “Could you please go to the store and get some milk?”

  “Milk?”

  “Your da is out of milk, and you know I really need it in my coffee.” He knew I drank my coffee as black as one could make it, so he blinked. “Pick a few other things up at the same time?” I asked and twitched my head toward the open fridge and the wasteland inside.

  “I should –”

  I cut him off again, guessing he’d ask me to go to the store so he could stay where he was and continue to stare at his grieving father.

  “I’m sure you know better what your da likes, Olly,” I said and took a step toward him. “Perhaps you can pick something up for lunch too?”

  He opened his mouth to protest, and I called out in my head, hoping I’d reach his friend.

  “Bird?”

  “I’m here,” the bird replied immediately as if he'd expected me to speak to him.

  “Can you –”

  “I heard and yes. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Okay,” I said and added out loud. “Olly, please. The grocery store?”

  He was silent for a while and I wondered what the bird was saying to him.

  “Okay,” he muttered, although if it was to his winged friend or me I wasn't sure.

  When he'd left, I turned toward the man by the table.

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  I thought I saw a small nod and decided to take that as a yes, so I moved the dry sandwich over to the sink, cleaned out the coffee maker, searched the cupboards for what I needed and when the smell of caffeine hit the room I turned to him again.

  “Sven,” I said gently. “I know what happened. I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah,” he rasped out.

  “If you want to take a shower I can –” I stopped talking because the house was dirty but it seemed rude to scold him for it when he struggled so with the loss of his wife.

  “Why are you here?” he asked and our eyes met for the first time.

  His were a blue so pure it felt like looking into the sky, high up in the mountains on a clear winter day, and they weren’t full of hurt like I thought they’d be. Like his son’s were. They were resigned, and a little dazed as if he didn’t really see me.

  “I’m here because I love your son, Sven. He doesn’t know, and he might not want my love, but it’s his,” I said.

  Then I told him everything about me, and about how I knew Olly. He was silent while I spoke and when I was done, he just kept looking at me.

  “I know you hurt,” I said, finally. “But you have to go on living anyway.”

  “Don’t know why,” he rasped out.

  “Because you’re alive. Because you have a fantastic son. And…” I sank down next to him and put a hand on his strong thigh. “It might not be me, Sven. He might not want that so it might be someone else, but there will be someone.” His brows moved a little but I went on, “So, there will be grandchildren.”

  He straightened slightly and I swallowed.

  “They might not be my children, Sven, but if they are then I know one thing…” I swallowed again and whispered, “I’d want them to grow up here.”

  His mouth fell open, just a little and I squeezed his leg gently.

  “My parents are fantastic, amazing people and I love them, but they travel the world and I know what kind of grandparents they’ll be. They’ll pop in with great presents, take the kids on fantastic adventures and teach them about magic, and I’ll love them for it. But I mostly grew up with my grandfather. He was steady as a rock, steering my brothers and me through everything. Calmly dealing with whatever life threw at us.”

  His eyes weren’t so dull anymore and that gave me the courage to finish what I’d started.

  “That’s what I’d want my kids to have.”

  “Annie…” he murmured.

  “They might not be mine, so I don’t know what will happen. But Sven, they will be yours.”

  His throat moved and then he slowly put a hand on mine.

  “Byrd Anna Maria Harper,” I said and watched as he flinched. “Olly said that’s her name. Said most people called her Bee, and that you called her Bebe when you thought he didn’t hear. Said that she was just Ma to him.”

/>   His eyes slowly filled with tears but I pushed on.

  “If there were a daughter I wouldn't call her Byrd. Sorry, but that’s a bizarre name.” His mouth twitched a little in a smile so sad it hurt to watch, but I forced myself to smile back at him. “I would call her Maria. And a little bit of your wife would still be alive.”

  A single tear slid down his cheek and I stretched a hand up to wipe it away. When I lowered my hand again, he took hold of it and squeezed gently. Slowly he seemed to relax and I smiled at him.

  “Gideon Morgan is your grandfather?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I confirmed.

  “Heard about the man,” he said. “Never heard anyone describe him as calm.”

  “Well…” I said. “Maybe calm isn’t exactly the right word.”

  “Maybe calm is exactly the wrong word,” he said, trying so hard to make a small joke I had to chuckle, just to give him that.

  The door opened behind me and Olly walked in with two plastic bags and what smelled like an absolutely fantastic pizza.

  “Da?” he said, and I started to wonder if he’d ever say anything else to his father.

  Sven watched as Olly put the box on the table and started filling the fridge. Then he sighed and got to his feet.

  “You can start eating, son.” Olly turned, ready to protest, but Sven continued as he walked out of the room, “I’m going to take a shower.”

  Calmly I picked the box up, turned the oven on and said, “We’ll wait. Take your time.”

  Olly stared at me as I put the pizza in the oven, and I really didn’t want to explain all the things I’d talked to his da about so I mumbled something about coffee, and brought down a couple of mugs.

  He put his arms around me from behind and leaned his head on my shoulder.

  “Annie, it's clear you don't want to explain so I won't ask,” he murmured into my neck.

  I relaxed and leaned my head back a little.

  “Part of it is what we’ll talk about when we’re back at Double H,” I said.

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  We stood there without moving, listening to the soft rumble of water running in the shower. There was a strange creaky sound and I wondered how old the house was, and if the pipes needed to be replaced. Then the sounds stopped and Olly squeezed me a little.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “You’re totally welcome,” I quipped, and he laughed softly.

  I kept the conversation going through the pizza, talking mostly about Double H and the animals there. They weren’t saying much, but both of them responded to direct questions, at least. When we’d finished eating, I turned to Sven.

  “The house needs cleaning,” I said.

  “You’re not going to –”

  I cut him off immediately because I was most certainly not going to.

  “We could take a long walk, Sven. That would give Olly plenty of time.” They stared at me and I grinned. “Seriously? You thought I’d start mopping? Do I look like an apron-wearing kind of girl?”

  Olly snorted something that sounded like the f-bomb, and Sven didn’t smile but his lips twitched.

  “Get out of here,” Olly muttered and started moving the plates over to the sink.

  “A walk would be nice,” Sven said and brought out a couple of jackets from a room next to the front door, handing me one of them. “This’ll be too big but it’s warm.”

  We walked mostly in silence and he took us away from the village and along a small brook. When it turned in a way that formed a pool, I stopped and looked around. There was a cluster of trees to the side and the leaves had started to turn a yellowy orange, but the grass was still green. A wooden bench stood by the water and I pointed at it.

  “Can we sit down for a while?”

  Sven nodded, so we did.

  “You talk to dragonflies?” he murmured after a while, and since he knew I did, I just smiled and waved my hand.

  They came immediately, a big swarm of them, surrounding us and twittering out their joy about being in the mountains, how happy they were to see me and their general pleasure with everything.

  “Big man,” one of them said, someone else added, “Biggy-biggy,” and they all laughed. “You like?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I like.”

  “What are they saying?” Sven asked.

  “They’re just happy,” I answered. “It’s not like with the birds. They’re just a bunch of giggly, happy little creatures, and they want everyone else to be happy too. When we aren’t, they get mad and try to help.” I took a deep breath, and told him, “Most of them were there when your wife died.”

  “Sad, black man, sorry,” echoed around me suddenly, and then another soft, outdrawn, “Sorry…”

  “They say they’re sorry,” I murmured.

  I heard him swallow and then he whispered, “What was it like? Olly won’t –”

  “Quick,” I said, cutting him off.

  Then I took his hand and told him everything I could remember about that night and what had happened. He had tears on his cheeks, and he held on to my hand, but didn’t say anything until I had nothing left to tell.

  “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “It sounds strange perhaps, but it helps to know. I wondered if she suffered, or if it was –”

  He stopped speaking when a dragonfly suddenly hovered in the air in front of us.

  “Blue eyes don’t cry,” it said and they all flew off.

  I blinked because it had been so strange, and also the longest sentence I’d ever heard them put together.

  “It said something?” Sven asked.

  “Weird,” I muttered. “It said, blue eyes don’t cry.”

  He straightened as if I’d slapped him.

  “She –”

  “What?”

  “Bee used to call me blue eyes,” he said. “She –”

  He cut himself off again and looked around but there wasn’t anyone there, of course.

  “Maybe they heard her say it?” I asked uncertainly.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Come!” “Annie!” “Come-come-come!”

  I got to my feet and moved toward where they were flying immediately.

  “No man,” they chimed and I turned to Sven who was following right behind me.

  “They ask you to wait here,” I said but the dragonflies shouted again at me to come so I turned and half ran, following them into the group of trees, hoping he’d stay behind.

  At first, I didn’t see anything but then I heard a low whine and when I turned I saw a shape underneath one of the bushes. My breath caught in my throat when I saw something that looked like a huge wolf but I realized immediately it wasn’t a wolf at all. It was big, but it was a too skinny, dirty and worn-down dog, and it had been hurt.

  “Hey,” I whispered and it whined again, and tried to pull backward. “No,” I murmured. “I’m not dangerous. Let me help you?”

  I turned to the dragonflies swarming around us.

  “Can you talk to it?”

  “Owie,” one of them said. “Hurt,” another one chimed in.

  “Okay,” I said. “Tell him I’m here to help him. Tell him I won’t hurt him.”

  Olly’s black vulture’s words about all animals having the ability to speak to people suddenly came to me and I wondered if the dog understood what I said, or if it could sense my feelings. I stretched my hand out and tried to push friendliness to the frightened animal.

  “I’ll help,” I said, and moved dog’s head gently so I could look at the gash on the side of the head. It was dirty, but not deep and I didn’t think it’d need stitches. “What the hell happened to you?” I murmured absentmindedly.

  From nowhere, images of a brown work-boot on a leg dressed in dark green cargo-pants came to me. I heard someone roaring and saw the foot kick the dog in the side when it tried to reach a bowl with food. And then in the head. There were
others there and someone was shouting. Then there was another kick, and the dog ran away.

  “Oh, sweetie,” I murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

  The dog whined again but it didn’t pull away.

  “Annie?” Sven called out.

  “Give me a sec,” I answered.

  I turned back to the dog, hoping it would somehow understand what I said

  “You need help, and there’s someone here who can help you, but he needs help too. Maybe you can take care of each other?”

  Slowly, I got to my feet and moved backward, encouraging the dog to come with me. It hesitated, but got up and followed me out of the small grove.

  “It’s a dog,” I explained to Sven, which was unnecessary. “It’s been beaten and abused, and I think it’s hungry.”

  Sven was down on his knees and the dog kept walking until it was right in front of him. Then it sat down, and the man and the dog looked at each other in silence.

  “Can we take it to the farm?”

  Sven leaned a little to the side, straightened, and said, “It’s a he, and hell yes. We can.”

  Chapter Six

  Snip-snip

  We left the dog on the back porch and walked into a house that was spotless, and I wondered how the heck Olly had managed to get everything cleaned in such short time.

  “You called someone?” I asked, trying my best to make it sound like a question when I knew he had to have had help.

  “Sure. Hawker, Mill, Jack, Hawk’s brothers, and a few others were here.”

  I turned slowly toward him and stared. Hawker Johns had mopped the floor I was standing on? It suddenly hit me; they weren’t just friends. They were brothers. Of course, they'd come to help when one of them needed it. Hawker had behaved like a colossal idiot the evening before, but he'd been upset about his friend and frustrated about not being able to help him. This had been something they could do, something practical. My eyes burned with unexpected emotions when I thought of a group of badass biker guys dusting, mopping and cleaning the bathroom for their buddy.

  “How sweet,” I pressed out.

  “We’re having a beer,” Olly said.

  I blinked in surprise. Not because of Olly's need to have a cold one, he certainly deserved it, but his voice had turned defensive, and the look he aimed at his father seemed odd.