Silver Fox

by Zoe Chant

  “Doris! The man couldn’t take his eyes off you all night! Every time you opened your mouth, even to say More cocktail, Dad? that man looked at you like you were Jennifer Lopez in a sexy ballgown. And further, you were watching him.”

  Doris reddened further. “If you’re about to tell me I was acting like a kid—”

  “You looked,” Sylvia cut in, “like you had a party in your panties. Which is the way a gal should look when she’s got the attention of hot stuff like him. Except if he’s, you know, a serial killer or a perv, in which case thanks so much for introducing him to our grandmother and those kids.”

  Doris exclaimed, half-laughing, “He’s not a serial killer. Or a perv. I don’t know him well, but he’s friends with Bird, which is a strong recommendation. Even though she writes about dragons and fairies, she’s got a really good eye for people.”

  “That’s what I figured. I tried flirting with him, and he just kept looking at you, in the nicest way. He’s a catch, Doris. Get your fling on while he’s still around.”

  Doris cringed inside, then glanced around defensively, loathing the idea of a mere fling with Joey. Just the idea of ever saying goodbye to him brought all her old fears back. She determinedly shook them off—those were exactly what had created the walls of her box.

  But Sylvia was all about the flings. Better to get off the subject. “We’ll see. I’ve learned to be wary,” she said slowly.

  “Wary?” Sylvia’s eyes widened, then narrowed, and her hands went to her hips. “Don’t make this about me. Yeah, my marriage ended horribly. But most of that was because when I married James, I didn’t know you want a prick in the sack, but not outside of it.”

  Doris nearly choked on her tea. “Syl!”

  “Well, Mom’s not here to fake-faint at us not being ladylike.” Sylvia rolled her eyes, a corner of her mouth tugging up.

  Doris smothered a laugh, then she said, “I wasn’t making anything about you.”

  “Yeah? Then why didn’t you ever—no. No. I’m not going there. It’s old argument. And I suppose I ought to own up to my part. I know you got dragged into my disaster, taking Nicola and Marrit in every time James and I had a big fight. I learned the hard way after I booted his butt out the back door, there is no romance.” Her voice hardened, and her eyes glittered like diamonds. “You’ve heard me saying loud and clear that I’ll never get married again—men are fun for a while, but I’ll never pick up a man’s dirty underwear and socks again, lah-dee-dah. Love ‘em and leave ‘em first. That’s the way to go. So here’s your chance. Why aren’t you grabbing it?”

  Doris’s head swam. She’d never had a conversation even remotely like this with Sylvia, who when they were teens had always been the big romantic in the family. After James, she’d done a total reversal, running in the fast lane.

  And so the truth crawled up from Doris’s sunburned soul and out her lips, “I’m scared.”

  Sylvia was silent, so silent Doris could hear the old-fashioned clock ticking up above the refrigerator. Finally Sylvia said, “But you’re into him. I saw it last night. And no, it wasn’t obvious, nobody else noticed. It’s just that he was watching you with those hot eyes, so I started watching you, too. What happened to you, Doris, to make you scared? Why didn’t I know about it?”

  I was in your shadow, Doris wanted to say, but that was too simple, and besides it would hurt Sylvia. “Nothing. Nothing big. Just a lot of little humiliations—nobody’s fault.”

  Sylvia sighed. “Little humiliations like Mom bribing her best friend’s son to ask you to senior prom? I told her it was a terrible idea. But you know that generation—in their day it was a tragedy worse than the Titanic if they weren’t engaged by graduation. And how many of those teenage marriages lasted? Mom and Dad are almost the only ones left in their crowd.”

  Doris smiled and shook her buzzing head.

  Sylvia dropped her voice as footsteps creaked the ceiling above them. “That’ll be Mom.” She rolled her eyes. “Look. All I’m really saying is, life is short. It feels like two days ago we were the age of those cute twins snoring away in the den. If you like this guy as much as I think you do, why not take a chance on happiness?” She stared down into her coffee. “Even with all my big talk, I’d go for the gold if I had the chance.” She ended on a whisper.

  Doris eyed her sister. “What chance? You said you never invited boyfriends to family things. So they didn’t get the wrong idea.”

  Sylvia’s arms crossed tightly, her shoulders tense. “I lied. Well, I broke my rule. I thought that Gary and I . . . that it was something different . . . well, the short of it is, I did invite Gary. We’ve been dating an entire year! But the joke is on me—he turned me down.” She glanced away, and Doris’s stomach knotted when she saw the sheen of tears in her sister’s eyes.

  All Doris knew about Gary was his name, and that he’d lasted longer than any of her sister’s post-divorce relationships. Well, it seemed that was no longer true. And it also seemed that Sylvia, contrary to appearances, did care.

  So Doris said, “Thanks. I’ll consider your advice. If you’ll consider mine: back off of Brad. I realize I’ve barely met him, but what I’ve seen, I’ve liked. He’s no gold-digger. You can see it in those kids. They’ve been raised well. And Mom sees it as well—she’s about two seconds away from going full-bore grandmother all over Pink and Lon. I fully expect to catch her sneaking out to the shed and to get out that box of old princess dresses she made for us, and baking more babke just to see those kids eat. But she keeps sending guilty looks at you.”

  Sylvia hissed out a sigh. “I know.”

  “And Brad clearly adores Nicola—what?”

  Doris hadn’t thought she could be any more surprised—until that moment. Sylvia turned away, wiped her eyes with an impatient hand, then briskly dumped out the last couple drops of coffee into the sink and moved to refill her mug. “I know,” she said over her shoulder, not meeting Doris’s eyes. “But Nicola is serious. If it was just a fling, I’d be fine with it . . . I just don’t want to see her getting really, really hurt.”

  Like I did. The words hung in the air unsaid. Doris realized she had missed the boat on how deeply her sister had been involved with this Gary. And how much pain she was in over it falling apart.

  Doris tried to find words of comfort. But before she could, Mom bustled in like a runaway train. “Your father wants his coffee. God forbid he pours it himself.” She lifted her hands toward the sky, but it was a complacent gesture, one Doris had seen all her life.

  Sylvia put her hands on her hips, and there was the old Sylvia, head high, eyes bright, charismatic smile blinding. “We should start thinking about breakfast for the horde. Latkes again?”

  Their mother wrinkled her brow. “We ran through most of the potatoes yesterday. All that’s left are the soft ones. Doris, I could never hold up my head again if your professor returned to his university and talked about eating soggy potato pancakes in my home.”

  Doris caught a warning glance from Sylvia and realized that assuring her mother that Joey was unlikely to say anything about her cooking at the university, much less negative, would only hurt. If Mom wanted to think that Joey would be detailing his weekend to his colleagues, let her.

  “I’ll start cracking eggs,” Doris said. She desperately needed to busy her hands while her mind whipsawed between what she had discovered about her sister and the memory of Joey’s soft lips. “Whatever we make, we’ll be starting with those.”

  THIRTEEN

  JOEY

  Kisses sweeter than wine, was the phrase that kept repeating in Joey’s mind.

  The morning air was shockingly cold, the snow squeaky underfoot. Their feet sank deeply with a chuffing sound. They walked into the trees so that their footsteps would not be seen to vanish abruptly, then they shifted to their animals. Joey, with long practice, kept himself partially in the real world and partially in the mythic dimension, enough so that he could see, but he could not be seen except as a v
ague silvery shape. More importantly, he would not leave prints.

  Xi Yong’s qilin walked tranquilly in the air a few inches above the snow. He could not fly, but he could run with the wind without touching down. Guided by the light of the early morning stars and a sliver of sinking moon, they raced uphill toward the walled compound they’d found before the snowstorm.

  Joey moved himself just enough into the real world to be able to sniff the scents on the clear, cold air. He could smell snow coming again, but there were no fresh human smells. Unsurprising. No vehicle would be able to drive. Though snowmobiles could, those were not silent—anyone running those would risk wakening everyone within miles.

  If they decide to give chase, they won’t care about noise, Joey sent the thought to Xi Yong. What we must do therefore is prevent them from being suspicious enough for that, if we can.

  Xi Yong’s implicit agreement came to Joey with the thought, What do you suggest?

  The wolves won’t be able to avoid leaving tracks. Let’s try some fox trickery.

  Xi Yong understood at once. Should I make a trail of what appears to be deer prints?

  How about a herd. And I’ll create a pack of fox prints. Then no one will blink twice about prints of a couple of wolves supposedly on their scent.

  Xi Yong ran up an adjacent slope, to where a rocky fall would prevent any snowmobile from navigating it. He shifted to his full form, then he ran downhill, veering close to the wall of Cang’s compound, and then away, as a deer would who smelled humans close by.

  The light had come up completely by the time Xi Yong finished creating a number of prints, making it look like a sizable herd of deer had come down and nosed about for greenery along that wall.

  Joey kept pace with Xi Yong, laying down fox prints. The next patrol would see plenty of animal prints going every which way, not just around the compound.

  Then they ran to the stream. Now that it was full day, though cars were still undrivable, people would be out enjoying the snow on foot. He and Xi Yong shifted to their human selves, laid down footprints walking into the trees, and returned to the house.

  The first one to meet them was Doris, her gaze searching, a little question puckering her brow. Her cheeks pinked. Joey was already smiling in delight to see her.

  She said, “We’ve kept some breakfast for you. Did you have a nice walk?”

  “Very nice, thanks,” Joey said.

  Sylvia appeared at her sister’s shoulder, carrying a tray. “Doris whipped up these pancakes herself. They’re still warm—we had them in the oven, so watch the plates. There’s maple syrup in the cow pitcher, and jam in the pot. Oh, and butter in the butter dish.” She set the tray down on the coffee table. “Enjoy!”

  Joey turned his head to see where Doris was, drawn to her like the pull of a compass needle to its true north. But she’d vanished while he was distracted. He thought about trying to find her, then thought of her likely reaction if he found her after searching for her all over the house, and got a plate instead.

  As he fixed his pancakes, he noticed the teenagers on the other side of the den, ignoring the two little kids, who were playing finger-spiders.

  Joey approached them, and indicated the Legos. “Want to play?”

  Two happy faces met his suggestion. As they began pulling out the Legos (today, Pink was all about the yellow), Joey observed the teenagers.

  Marrit sat near Vic, who stared at her with the fixed attention of his wolf, his tongue metaphorically lolling. Joey suppressed a bubble of laughter.

  “Law?” Marrit repeated flatly, then lifted a shoulder sharply. “Of course I think corporate law is boring. Most jobs are boring. But starting at five hundred bucks a billable hour can make pretty much anything endurable—and it only goes up from there.”

  “What kind of jobs aren’t boring?” Vic asked, as his sister covertly rolled her eyes.

  Nicola appeared at the kitchen door, saying, “Kids, come and eat!”

  Pink tottered off, but Lon looked back uncertainly.

  “I’ll put them away,” Joey offered.

  Lon grinned and ran off, vanishing into the kitchen.

  Joey turned his attention to his breakfast. Which was worthy of his full attention. The pancakes were light, fluffy and delicious. Joey inhaled his, then concentrated on locating Doris on the mythic plane. Her bright spirit glowed from the next room. She was probably washing the breakfast dishes. He stacked his and Xi Yong’s empty plates on the tray, as Xi Yong rose and flicked a glance outside: he was going to return to his patrol.

  Joey slipped past her with his tray of dirty dishes. As he expected, Doris was at the sink. She sidled a glance his way. He read the shyness there, warmth pulsing through him in echo of last night’s sweet, passionate kiss.

  “The pancakes were excellent. As you can see, not a crumb left. What can I do to help?” he asked.

  “Heaven forbid!” Elva’s voice boomed from the pantry, and Doris’s mother emerged with an armload of pasta. “A man offering to help in the kitchen! The world is ending!” she proclaimed happily. “Where do you find such wonderful people? You should not let him go, Doris—grab him before he escapes.” Then she sent a frown Joey’s way. “Are you single? Don’t tell me you’re gay, though I imagine Isidor might like that—”

  Joey could see every word scraping Doris’s nerves. “You gallantly rescued us,” Joey said to Elva, drawing her attention away from Doris. “It’s only fair to turn a hand. Is there anything I can help with? Firewood, maybe?”

  “The boys are supposed to—”

  The door banged open. Pink and Lon erupted into the kitchen, chased by Nicola. “Kids! Let’s go play in the—”

  Lon ran straight to Doris. “Pink saw a magic horse.”

  “Wed!” Pink stated.

  “Red,” Lon said, and alarm zapped through Joey: but it was impossible that Xi Yong had been seen. He would be careful to go straight to the woods from the house’s one side that had no windows.

  “Wed horsie,” Pink stated.

  “Now, children,” Elva cut in. “Why don’t you take your pretend games upstairs to the attic. The kitchen is for—”

  “Wed!” Pink repeated.

  “It’s not pretend! It’s real! We saw it!” Lon added on a desperately climbing note as he looked from one disbelieving adult face to another, “I saw it, too, before breakfast. It was a red magic horse. With antlers! And that time, it had a friend. A . . . woof! It had a kabillion tails!”

  Joey’s entire body froze. They both had been seen?

  “Now, children,” Elva said in a too-sprightly voice. “It’s never too early to learn the difference between pretend and telling the truth!”

  Joey’s heart ached as Pink’s face began to pucker, her lower lip trembling.

  But then his wonderful Doris knelt down in front of the kids. “That sounds really interesting. Why don’t you draw your animals friends on the chalkboard so that Auntie Doris can see them?”

  “Daw!” Pink smiled.

  “I like paper better,” Lon said tentatively. “Chalk is for little kids.”

  Doris held out her hands. “Come on. Let’s go find the paper and the chalks. And you can show me your magic horse, all right?”

  “I’ll come with you,” Joey offered, his heart pounding.

  Doris flicked a smile his way. “The attic is this way. Show him where it is, kids!”

  With the two small children clambering ahead, she led him back up the stairs they’d walked together the evening before. But instead of stopping on the landing, she opened a narrow door, disclosing a steep stairway.

  The top opened into a long, narrow attic room under the steeply slanting roof. The pine plank walls were maybe four and a half feet high before the roof began its upward slant—perfect for the children. A kid-sized, battered table, once painted blue, sat in the middle of the floor, along with small benches and chairs. An equally battered bookcase was crammed with children’s books, worn and much read. Toys from three g
enerations lined the walls, neatly organized in cupboards. A very old rocking horse, a doll-sized miniature house with little carved figures in it, and a range of toy animals and dolls and vehicles from most of the decades of the 20th Century filled a cubby.

  Lon ran to the table, where Doris set out a box of chalks and one of crayons, plus a stack of newsprint paper.

  “Wed,” Pink announced. “Fah.”

  “Fire isn’t red,” Lon said, drawing carefully on his own piece of paper. “But that horsey looked like fire.”

  “A red horse?” Doris asked.

  Lon studied her with a wary expression. Joey sensed one of those sensitive children easily annihilated by adults’ disbelief. But Doris didn’t speak in that smug tone of we-all-know-the-truth that children loathed. She sounded puzzled, as though trying to figure out what the kids thought they saw.

  Joey smiled at Lon. “You said it had a friend?”

  Lon turned to him. “In the morning. It was shiny.”

  “Like a robot?” Doris asked, looking even more puzzled. “Like on TV?”

  “No. This color.” He pointed to the silver in the crayon box.

  “That’s silver,” Doris said.

  “Silver. It was a big silver woof. He got a million big tails.” He waved his arms.

  “Five,” Pink declared, holding up three dimpled fingers.

  Lon turned to her. “Not five. More.” To the adults, he said, “She thinks everything is ‘five.’ She still doesn’t know how to count yet.”

  “I count,” Pink stated. “One. Two. Five. Fivety-five.”

  “You forgot three and four,” Lon corrected earnestly.

  “Oh. Fee, foh, two, five.” Pink started scribbling on the paper.

  Doris came over to Joey’s side as he worked to hide his alarm. It was very clear those kids had seen him and Xi Yong. How?

  As Lon began helping his sister pick through the crayons, Doris said, “They must have been watching something on TV.”