by Lena North
“Never thought I’d say this, Wilder,” he murmured. “But damn if I’m not happy you hooked up with Mac.”
I grinned widely, happy about his words but also amused by the disgruntled look on his face.
“So am I, Dad,” I said.
Later, I told Mac what Hawker said, thinking that he’d find it as amusing as I had. He surprised me when he turned away abruptly.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
“Falk?” I asked and walked around him until we were facing each other again.
“Haven’t had anyone,” he started, took a deep breath and started again. “I was five. We were driving down the mountain, on our way home when the breaks stopped working, and the car went off the road. Da was driving, and I don’t know how he managed, but he avoided the ravine on one side and got us over on the other side. It didn’t help, though. We went straight into the mountain, and they died immediately.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned my head on his chest. He was warm and strong, and I could hear his heartbeat under my ear, but he was trembling a little.
“You don’t have to talk about it, baby,” I whispered.
“You should know,” he murmured into my hair, and continued, “I spoke to your grandfather because he was sheriff back then, but I refused to talk about it again, so no one really knows. I didn’t want to talk about them because it hurt too much. And I didn’t allow anyone to use my name.”
He was silent for a long time, and I held him.
“It was the last thing I heard my mother say. When the car was going into the mountain. It felt like time stopped and I heard only her voice, crying my name out. Just once, but it was drawn out, and it felt like a lifetime. Then there was silence.”
“Baby,” I sobbed, and held on tighter, but he went on as if he hadn’t heard.
“So, I got out of the car and started walking. Bird told me they were gone, said I had to go to Gilmore Johns and he would help. I was five, and I had no clue what to do, so I did what my bird told me and she was right. Your grandmother held me. Gilmore got them off the mountain, and I got help, but from that day I was Mac. Until you.”
I leaned back to look at him, and his face softened then.
“Love you, baby. When I lost them, I lost everything, but when I found you, I got everything back again. Worried me a bit that your Da was so set against me. What if he chipped away on you until you saw me as he does?”
“What?” I exclaimed.
What the hell was he talking about?
“I know I look good, okay?” was his strange retort.
“Wh –”
“It’s not uncommon for girls to hit on me. You’ve seen it, baby,” he said, and he was right. I had seen it. “I didn’t say no a lot. Hawker and the others thought I used my voice, but I didn’t. Accepted what was offered, though,” he muttered.
Oh. I thought about what he’d just said, but it wasn’t news, and I knew it was something I’d have to live with. I had already made my choice.
“I trust you, Falk. I get why they are all on you like white on rice, and I can’t blame them because I am too. Promise me one thing, though?”
“What?” he asked warily.
“If there comes a time when you don’t want me anymore… Don’t go behind my back, don’t sneak around and have a sordid little affair. Just tell me, and we’ll deal, okay?”
“Won’t happen.”
“You don’t know, baby. Life happens. Shit happens. So you don’t know, and I’ll trust you with everything I am but I’d like your promise anyway,” I said calmly.
“Yeah, okay. It won’t happen, but of course, I promise, as long as you make the same promise,” he said.
Why on earth would I promise that when I knew without a doubt that he was it for me? There wouldn’t be anyone else.
“You said it yourself, shit happens, so you don’t know either,” he pushed, but then he chuckled. “Besides, you don’t exactly look like dog poop either, Wilder.”
Not the most flowery of compliments but I still smiled. Then I frowned.
“Why did you use your voice on me, Falk? When we met that first time?”
“Got one look at you and I knew. This is it. This one matters. It scared the shit out of me, and then it just kind of popped out in a way it never had before. The whole situation freaked me out, and I was planning to go away for a few weeks when my bird told me you were chased down the mountain by an avalanche. I was at the lifts before Hawker and Hare. They’re better skiers, though. Caught up with me in the ravine.”
He looked disgruntled, and I hoped it was because he’d been out-skied by my father.
“I promise, Falk. In the unlikely even I get bored by your pretty face and fantastic abs, I will tell you,” I said.
As I expected, he chuckled and then we moved on to talk about other, simpler, topics.
I thought about what he’d said in the weeks that followed, though, and there was one thing I couldn’t wrap my head around. Why had they left him with his uncle? He’d had an awful time so why hadn’t any of the others taken him in?
I asked Hawker about it, and his face grew hard.
“Stupid, stubborn, boy,” he grumbled. “Didn’t say a word. At first, we all thought he was grieving, and when things got worse, he didn’t tell. Always said things were fine. Always.”
I thought about all the times I’d stood next to my parents, smiling and pretending everything was as it should be. In a weird way, I got why he’d pretended.
“How did you find out?” I asked.
“Knocked on the door one day. The family was away on vacation, and I’d heard he hadn’t wanted to go with them. Wanted to check in on him and found him polishing their bathroom floor with a toothbrush,” Hawker said.
I sighed.
“I should have puked in their food instead,” I muttered.
“Yeah, you should have. I got Mac out of there that day, honey. He refused to live with me, didn’t want to live with Da, so I set him up in that condo of his, and we took turns checking up on him,” he said.
“Okay,” I said softly. “Why were they like that to him, do you know?”
“Because his uncle is an idiot. Always has been,” he replied sourly.
“Dad…” I trailed off, thinking that there had to be more to it than that.
There was.
“Wilder,” he sighed. “It’s a blessing to have the connection to your bird, but it’s a curse too sometimes. Envy. Fear. All kinds of shitty emotions come to the surface. In the past, our whole village knew about the birds, but we stopped sharing our legacy more than a hundred years ago.”
He made a pause and watched me with eyes that were wary.
“It was easier for me, I’m the oldest, and it was so clear from the start that I’d have the eagle. He showed up when they brought me home from the hospital, used to follow Ma around each time she took me outside. So when Hare and Mags came along, they already knew. It wasn’t the same for Mac’s uncle. He’s firstborn, and for the first five years of his life, his parents doted on him. Told him he’d have the bird even though there was no proof of that. Stupid. So fucking stupid. Then Mac’s father was born and at first, all was well. Then a falcon showed up, flew right past the older brother and landed on the blanket next to the baby.”
He pulled a hand through his hair and continued, “All attention shifted to Mac’s father. They were ridiculous about it, and I don’t think his uncle ever got over that. We all know the story, though, so we accept him. Mostly.”
“Does Mac know about this?”
“Sure he does. He’s a good man, Wilder. Strong. Even as a boy he understood why his uncle treated him like he did. Accepted it when he could have rubbed both his voice and the bird in with a vengeance.” He grinned crookedly and added, “He’s perhaps not what I wanted for my only daughter, but as long as he toes the line then I’m good with what you have.”
“Don’t
worry, Dad,” I said. “He will.”
“I expect that he’ll do just that, honey. Willy was right to put you in fighter training I guess.”
We grinned at each other, both knowing that I wouldn’t have to use my fighting skill on Mac any time soon.
***
After this, life went back to normal, whatever that was.
I spent some time working with Uncle Andy on the ranch, but he was getting better, and Olly was still there. It was clear that they didn’t need me much, or if I was honest, even wanted me around. Since my interest in the day to day activities ranged from low to none at all, I decided to let them do their thing without my interference.
Instead, I worked with Sloane on organizing Willy’s papers and spent time both with Mac and my father. Hawker had completely turned around on my involvement in the group.
“If you’re going to be a part of it then you’d better be trained, honey,” he muttered. “Can’t have you running straight into situations like you did with the asshat,” he added sourly, but I could tell that his anger was mostly fake.
Hence, training with the members of the group commenced. I loved to fight with Olly and Miller and enjoyed spending time with Mac on the shooting range, but most of all I liked the time I spent with my father discussing how they outlined various operations.
They had all been astonished when I announced that my bird talked to all the other birds, but when the initial surprise had passed, we started working out ways we could use this to our advantage. The group had relied heavily on technical devices to pass around messages in the past, and that had worked, but having my bird and me as an instant communications center would certainly speed up things.
I had wondered what my place in the group would be, and as training moved along it became clear that I would never be the muscle, didn’t have the eyesight to be a sniper and not enough patience for the technical things Kit and Byrd were so good at. I could back either of them up quite well, but I knew that my position in the group would be similar to what my father had. I’d be the strategist, the communicator, and the one holding all the pieces together. And when Hawker was ready to step down, I’d take his place as the leader.
We were in regular contact with the authorities, and the autopsy of my ex-father came back inconclusive. It didn’t prove that he’d had a coronary, but it didn’t prove anything else either so, in the end, his death was determined to be from unknown but natural causes.
Hawker and I went down to Prosper, and a lawyer’s office in a surprisingly bad part of the city, to hear the reading of Paolo’s last will.
As expected, he’d bequeathed everything he owned to his mother, except for a small house deep in the swamp outside Marshes that he wanted his cousin Francesco to have.
Mrs. Fratinelli smirked at me, and I wanted to slap her. She had just started telling me how she would start bringing Willy’s art collection to her house in Marshes when Willy’s lawyer, Mr. Suthermoore, suddenly was ushered into the room.
“My apologies for interrupting, but I was just notified about this meeting, and I found it prudent to share a few details,” he said.
Then he sat down and placed some papers in front of him.
“For his inheritance to include also Mr. Willy Callaghan’s estate, Mr. Paolo Fratinelli signed an agreement that he would share some pertinent details regarding his stepdaughter's background,” he started and pushed one of the papers forward with his index finger.
I nodded and wondered why he brought this up.
“You agreed to this, and signed an agreement,” he said, looking at me as he pushed another paper forward.
I nodded again.
“There was an unfortunate mistake in the text in both these documents, which I take full responsibility for,” he continued, and Hawker straightened next to me.
“This specifies quite clearly that Mrs. Caroline Fratinelli was supposed to share these details with Miss Wilder Fratinelli,” he continued, pointing to the first paper.
“And this states clearly that Miss Wilder Fratinelli agrees to transfer this responsibility to Mr. Paolo Fratinelli,” he said, indicating the other paper.
I was confused, but Hawker started laughing.
“I don’t see the problem –” Paolo’s mother started, but my father interrupted her.
“Wilder Johns,” he said, still chuckling, and I got it then.
My name had never been Fratinelli, but I hadn’t known that when I signed the paper. I’d actually signed it as Wilder Callaghan as well, which probably made them even less legally binding.
A huge commotion broke out, and the old woman was red-faced and loud, but after some discussions, the lawyers agreed that the transfer of Willy’s possessions to Paolo had been incorrect.
“You can sue them,” Hawker rumbled, “or my daughter,” he went on, “but I wouldn’t,” he concluded.
“I most certainly will,” the woman snapped sourly.
“You do that,” Hawker said affably. “I believe that the police would, unfortunately, have to open their investigation about Fratinelli again then. I asked them to close it when he died, but in case there’s a trial then, of course, there need to be further investigations of his affairs…” he trailed off.
They glared at each other and then the woman got to her feet.
“I can’t for the life of me see what a woman like Caroline ever found attractive in a man like you,” she snapped.
Our laughter followed her out of the room.
We thanked the lawyers, and I made arrangements to meet Mr. Suthermoore later to figure out how to deal with what Willy had left me. The companies would have to be managed, but I hoped Mickey would help me figure that out. I decided to discuss with Mary about the art collections. I wanted to set some kind of foundation up and donate them to that, but I didn’t know how that would work.
All of that would have to wait until another day because we left and drove up to Norton where the others were waiting for us.
The snow was melting, and the ground was softer, so we had decided to go back to the cave and bring Vildman down.
Chapter Twenty-five
Vildman
I stood in front of the others in the cave where I'd found shelter from the avalanche. My eyes were burning, and it was a struggle to breathe through the thick lump in my throat.
Behind me were everyone who had a link to one of the birds, and in front of me was the remains of Vildman.
We'd decided that no one else would enter the cave. Vildman was our ancestor, and we felt strongly that this was an honor we owed him. For the same reason, we'd decided to tell no one how I'd found him. There would be no archeologists, no historians, and no autopsy would be performed.
All of us had read the stories his daughter and her two friends had written down, and we thought that we had a good enough idea of what had happened to the man.
It turned out that when I made my asinine comment in the hospital about gigantic lobsters, I hadn’t been entirely wrong.
I’d overheard Francesco mentioning the old ways when I was in Marshes, and Sloane had spent time going through ancient records with references to Vildman, but she had also looked for any kind of document mentioning anything about old ways.
Sloane had found copies from archives originating from the village called Pantano, which later had been renamed to Marshes, and the documents made references to using powdered shells from seafood that by the description sounded a lot like lobsters.
We put everything we knew together and believed that the wound Vildman had gotten must have been dirtied with powdered shells. Remembering how ill Mac had been, I marveled about the resilience of my ancestor. He’d lasted a whole year with powder stuck in his body, and they had planned to open up the wound to rinse it. If he hadn’t been caught in that cave during a storm, he might have made it.
Our world would have been vastly different then, I thought. Prosper wouldn’t exist. Dragoncourt would likely h
ave been the main city in our country, instead of a successful but rather small ski resort. The Dreughan, my ancestors, would have ruled the country, and the Waterfolk would probably have been long gone.
I grieved for the way Vildman had died, but the prosperous times that followed had been good for our country. What Troy had built up from the little settlement around the Heather Houses was truly remarkable, and as I stood there in front of a man long gone, I hoped that he would have approved.
We'd brought a simple wooden casket and Carson had made several trips up and down the mountain with his helicopter to bring both it and the nine of us up there.
Snow was standing between my father and grandfather, pale and with eyes so haunted it hurt just to look into them. She'd arrived with Carson in the helicopter and would go back with him when he left. Bo had called me when they’d left Threy, and said that I needed to look out for her because for reasons that he apparently knew and I had no clue about, it would be hard for her to go back to Norton. Bo also told me that she’d been dropped off by someone he’d called “mister hunkalicious.” I assumed that it had been Dante, and I wondered why he hadn’t gone with Snow to Norton. They were living together, so I had expected him to come.
As I stood there, it hit me again how striking the dead man was, even after so many years in the cave. I stepped forward and crouched. Then I slowly wiped out the signs he’d made in the dirt.
“Thank you,” I whispered, stretched out my hand and touched his cheek softly. “We found your message. Our world is safe again.”
Then I stepped back and nodded to the others.
In complete silence, we wrapped Vildman up in white sheets and placed him carefully in the coffin. Hawker and Miller lowered the lid and then my father nailed it shut.
We didn’t speak until we were at the burial ground just outside the churchyard. Hare and a few other men from the village had removed the stone and dug a deep grave. Our priest knew what we were doing, and Hawker had told me that he’d offered to perform a burial. We had rejected this, which he’d immediately accepted, and even agreed that it wouldn’t be right to utter words from our modern faith over the man who had lived out his life in another time.
