Black Swan Affair

by K. L. Kreig

  Maybe they were just rumors. Maybe they weren’t. But the one thing everyone knew was if you slipped even a toenail onto Old Man Riley’s land, he’d know and you were as good as dead.

  In all the times we’ve been in our little sanctuary, Mavs and I have not once crossed that imaginary line. We’ve toyed with the idea, but we each end up chickening out.

  So the fact we are now traipsing into unknown territory—on Old Man Riley’s property—scares the ever-living shit out of me. Not gonna lie. The deeper we travel into the woods, the more my stomach bubbles and the more worried I become. With every step I take, I am sure agony will rip through me a second later. I want to turn around more than anything, but I’m not about to lose Maverick so I forge ahead.

  This is what she’s been doing? Risking her very life? If Old Man Riley catches us, who knows what the hell he may do. All I know is I don’t want to end up on the other side of a shotgun barrel with half my face blown off, in an unmarked grave beneath an evergreen. Nor do I want Mavs to either. The second we get to our destination, I am going to give Maverick DeSoto a piece of my mind.

  Once again, she proves she needs someone to look after her. Careless, reckless girl. I’d bet my entire baseball card collection and even my prized, officially signed Ken Griffey, Jr. card her parents have no idea where she escapes to. Her dad would have a shit fit. He’s very protective of his daughters, which is why he pulled me aside when I was eight and asked me to keep one eye open around Mavs at all times. He knew she needed it. Just like he knew he could count on me.

  Wondering when this torture will end, I try to drag in a breath. It burns my lungs, which now feel wet with moisture. With no breeze, it’s absolutely suffocating in these woods. My mouth is dry and my stomach is rumbling. If I knew we’d be hiking this long, I would have brought a bottle of water and something to eat. I wonder if she has any food in that bag of hers.

  Up ahead, I see the trees spit her out. I pick up my pace so I don’t lose her because I have no idea what’s on the other side of this wooden prison I’ve now found myself locked in. It takes me another couple of minutes to catch up, though. I practice the words in my head the entire time, my speech now perfected. First, she’s going to get an earful; then I’m going to throw her over my shoulder, if necessary. And we’ll hightail it outta here as fast as possible before we’re found out.

  I’m so furious with her I’m shaking. My mouth is open; my angry words ready to fly. But now…

  Now, with my sweat-soaked T-shirt sticking to me like paint and my mouth puckering from lack of saliva, I stand in the shroud of the trees and just watch, the words dead on my tongue.

  I gawk in awe.

  Right in the center of a grassy, overgrown field is the most spectacular, crystal-clear blue lake I have ever seen. It’s not that big. I could swim across it in the time it takes me to make a couple of laps in our local swimming pool. Pussy willows and tall, billowy grasses shoot up around the edges, giving it this sort of peaceful, secluded vibe. Hearing the croak of toads, I spot dozens of lily pads in the far corner. This paradise seems out of place in the middle of nowhere, but yet it…it doesn’t.

  I spot the backpack Mavs wore, now open, carelessly thrown on the ground. The straps dangle in the water, causing small ripples against the edge. But what has me fascinated more than the impressive sight of this undiscovered haven is Mavs herself.

  She’s kneeling on a giant, flat boulder that juts up from the center of the water, just two feet in from the grassy banks. She giggles and coos as she leans over the water precariously, throwing haphazardly torn up pieces of bread to two beautiful white swans. They gobble them up greedily.

  The smile she has literally splits her face in two. It’s blinding. Breathtaking.

  She’s breathtaking.

  The swans—clearly mates—circle her, waiting for more. Her laughter draws them in close. I don’t think it’s the food. I think it’s her. She’s a magnet. She has no idea the power she exudes and holds over people. Over me. The swans seem comfortable around her. Like they know her. The real her. Like I do.

  For long minutes, I simply stare. She sings. Talks to them. She’s even named them. I’ve never seen her so happy or relaxed. I’m all of fourteen years old, and she’s only eleven. I know I have my whole life ahead of me with adventures I can’t possibly comprehend. But as I stand here with stars in my eyes and wonder in my heart, I know without a shadow of a doubt it doesn’t matter how many people I meet or how many girls capture my attention…

  I will always come back to her. I will always be drawn to her.

  My swan.

  Now I get it.

  Mavs has always felt like an outsider. She’s not a girly girl like her sister or her parents want her to be. She’d rather fish and hunt than ever touch a doll. Hell, she ripped the heads off of every single one of Jilly’s Barbies when she was just six—after she sheared their hair clean to their heads. Got in big-ass trouble for that one. She’s more comfortable in torn jeans and baggy vintage T-shirts than the expensive ones her mom buys her. She’d spend every single minute outdoors if she could. Camps under the stars in just a sleeping bag—no tent necessary.

  Now, here, by the gleam in her eye I see even fifty feet away, she’s willing to risk the wrath of Old Man Riley because, without her even saying so, I can tell she’s in her element. She’s finally found the one place where she feels she can just be herself without judgment.

  But the thing she doesn’t understand yet is she’s always had that place.

  She always will.

  With me.

  “Hey, babe.”

  “Hi,” I call over my shoulder.

  The screen door slams before his voice whispers over my cheek. “Aren’t you getting eaten alive out here?” His lips land softly on my skin. He lets them linger like he’s breathing me in after a long, hard day and I’m the only balm that can soothe away the grit. I allow myself to concentrate only on that feeling and nothing else until he takes them away. When he does, I feel a little sad. I want them back.

  “A little,” I reply, slapping one that just took a vial full of blood from my thigh.

  The mosquitos are horrible this year. We had more than double the rain we normally get in the spring. The fields had standing water for weeks, which not only caused delays getting the crops planted, but was the perfect breeding ground for mosquitos the size of fists. The county wanted to crop dust some of the worst spots with an organophosphate insecticide to try to control them, but they were met with huge opposition by not only farmers but a band of mothers who “don’t want their kids getting cancer in five years from the chemicals that will end up in our drinking water.”

  My opinion is we’re all going to die of something, so just spray the fuckers so we can all enjoy the outdoors with the little time we have left. But in the end, they didn’t. I’ve now been outside all of ten minutes and have half a dozen bites.

  “I tried that new organic repellent MaryLou was going on about.” She wouldn’t shut up about it until I did.

  “Yeah?” He chuckles as I shoo another flying, bloodsucking fiend away. “How’s that working out for you?”

  I crane my neck to look at my husband and practically melt with the adoration I see shining down at me. It makes my eyes burn a little. Kael grabs my hand, bringing it to his smiling lips as I say, “I’m going back to cancer-inducing deet.”

  He full-on laughs before kissing my cheek, announcing, “Your mom stopped by my office today.”

  I groan. Of course she did. When she doesn’t get her way from me, she goes straight to Kael. I’ve been avoiding her for the past two weeks. I know what she wants and I can’t stomach the thought.

  Three weeks have passed since Killian visited me at the bakery. Jilly ignores me, as usual, except if she needs something. And my mother? Well, either she can’t sense the tension between the four of us when we’re together or she just plain doesn’t care. I would vote for the latter. So a family dinner to celebrate Jilly
’s little declaration is the last thing I want to do.

  “Let me guess. I’ve been trying to reach Maverick. She’s ignoring me, as usual. I thought perhaps you could talk some sense into her. You always can,” I mock my mother in her superior-sounding voice.

  He slides into the seat beside me with ease. He’s still all dressed from work in his pants and button down, tie dangling undone. He must be dying of heat.

  “Pretty much sums up our conversation.”

  I stay quiet. A quick flash of yellow from the yard draws my attention. By the time I look, it’s gone. Then it appears again slightly to the left.

  Fireflies. I love fireflies. Used to catch jarfuls of them when I was a kid. Then I would release them the next day because I felt bad living while they slowly died.

  “You can’t ignore her forever, Mavs. We need to go.”

  “I don’t want to.” Dammit, I want to add, but don’t. I will sound like a spoiled brat if I do.

  “It’s important to your mom, Swan,” he says.

  I watch more fireflies wave their mating calls to the others for a while before I answer. Vivian DeSoto has accomplished her goal. I give. She has Kael on her side and I don’t want to disappoint Kael. Things have been good between us for the past few weeks. I feel like for the first time I’m really trying. “When?”

  “Sunday.”

  Swiveling my head his way, I smile softly. Inside, though, I’m anxious. I don’t think I’m ready to see Killian again yet. I need more time. That fucking cord is so thick I need an oil drill to chew through it. Maybe we should move to Texas. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

  “I think it will be nice.”

  “Nice?” A brow crooks. Dinner with my family is the opposite of nice. I will have to listen to my daddy drone on about how I could run DSC someday if I just come back. He’ll be subtler than my mother, though, who will just put it out there that I’m better than baking loaves of bread all day. And then I’ll have to pretend to be happy for my sister when I’m anything but.

  “Fine. Tolerable. They want to invite my parents, too.”

  “Really.” I make it a statement, but it’s more of a question. The DeSotos and the Shepards were once an inseparable duo. They worked together. Vacationed together. Spent weekends together. Both of our mothers were active in the church and so many committees I lost count.

  Then when Arnie Shepard retired a couple of years ago, they sort of drifted apart. Arnie and Eilish Shepard started spending half the year in Florida at their retirement home and when they were home, it seemed they always had something else to do. I feel bad for my parents. It’s almost as if they lost their best friends of thirty years. “I didn’t know they were back yet.”

  “They get back Saturday.” He looks happy.

  Every family has its issues. The Shepards are no different. His relationship with his father has been strained for the last few years, although he won’t talk much about it. But Kael loves his mother like no man I’ve ever seen. He hates it when she’s gone for so long.

  “Good. I’m looking forward to seeing them.” I always felt more comfortable around Kael’s parents than my own, anyway. Eilish, a sassy Irish redhead, loves me like a daughter. She accepts me for who I am and what I want to do. Next week, I know I’ll get a call from her. She will insist I bring her an entire box of éclairs and croissants. Then she’ll make her famous slow-roasted corned beef, a mound of boxty, which is a fancy Irish potato cake, and we’ll sit in the gazebo and gorge ourselves on carbs. My mother hasn’t touched a carb in twelve years.

  “Do you want to call her or should I?”

  I take a breath in until my stomach bulges. Then I blow it out, taking my time. “I will. I’ll get the ass-ripping over with before Sunday.”

  Kael chuckles. When I slap another mosquito, he asks, “Want me to grab that bug spray and a couple of beers?”

  “Sure. Sounds great.”

  Five minutes later he returns to our back porch, sporting nothing but a pair of baggy black gym shorts. Two bottles of Michelob Ultra hang in one hand, bug spray in the other.

  He sets the beers down on the whitewashed wooden table between our two Adirondack chairs but doesn’t open them yet. Then he goes about spraying himself with the repellent, slowly running the mist over one arm before switching hands and doing the next. I sit back and watch him as he generously covers his torso before working his way down one thigh.

  He’s like Killian in so many ways, but I realize those ways are only superficial. They both share the same square jawline and chiseled cheekbones. Their eye color is only a shade or two different, with Kael’s being lighter, but their hair color is exact. Kael’s a couple inches taller than Killian. He’s leaner, though, whereas Killian is a little more brawny.

  But where Killian is ruthless, Kael is compassionate. Kael is outgoing and chatty, Killian more reserved. He’s serious to Kael’s fun-loving personality. And where Killian would apparently do anything for himself, Kael would do anything for me.

  I think back to the day he followed me to my lake. Well, Old Man Riley’s lake, but I quickly thought of it as mine. We had an understanding, Old Man Riley and I. He wasn’t nearly the monster everyone created. He was just a lonely old man whose wife had died ten years earlier.

  So when I stumbled across him in the woods one day, I couldn’t breathe. He was hunched over a mewling animal and for a split second I thought all of the rumors around town about him were true. I thought for sure I was dead along with the animal he was butchering. But then our eyes connected and I knew none of the rumors were to be believed. He motioned me over to help him free a baby red fox who had been caught in an illegal hunting snare.

  It turned out Old Man Riley, or William as he asked me to call him, was a quirky, misunderstood, loveable man who revered animals as much as I did. He took that fox back to his home and nursed it back to health before letting it loose again. Then he showed me his lake. Said besides his Lilly, his dead wife, I was the only one who knew about it, although that wasn’t entirely true.

  Kael thought he was doing a good job of being stealthy that day—the day he followed me. I’d already spotted him behind the shed, waiting for me. I thought about trying to lose him. I could have, but I didn’t. I knew it was only a matter of time before he found out anyway.

  I laughed to myself the entire way. It sounded like a herd of elephants was pounding behind me. I don’t think the deaf could have missed him. When we got to the lake, I knew he stood behind the safety of the leaves and brush, watching me. He never came out. He was patient until I was ready to leave and followed me back out. He never brought that day up. But every time I went to that spot, I sensed him there…following…protecting me, I guess. It was as if he knew I wasn’t ready to share. He was okay with that, something I appreciated greatly.

  Then the next summer, I broke my leg when I wiped out on my bike. I wasn’t bedridden, but I certainly couldn’t trudge the mile it took to get to my private paradise. I cried and cried and everyone thought it was because I was in pain. I was, but the pain wasn’t in my leg, it was in my heart. Only Kael knew the real reason.

  Charlotte had laid eggs. Nine of them. And they were just about to hatch when I had my accident.

  Kael never said a word. But two days later he came back with pictures. Then, without my even asking, he went to my lake every single day that summer to check on the eggs, reporting back when they’d hatched. And along with Old Man Riley, they built protective fencing around the nest, trying to guard the cygnets when they were at their most vulnerable to predators. In the end, only two of the nine made it. But I’m not sure any would have had it not been for Kael watching over them.

  Over the years, there were countless acts of selfless kindness just like this one. And I think maybe I’ve taken them for granted. Kael Shepard loves me—has loved me—like no other man ever has. Even Killian. Especially Killian.

  I just never saw it because someone else’s aura was blinding me.

&nbs
p; Now, as I watch him struggle to get the backs of his legs, I know I should offer to help, but I don’t. I’m frozen to my seat, gaping at his raw masculinity. I marvel as he moves with beauty and grace, his taut muscles fluid underneath tanned skin. My mouth waters a bit. I don’t think it’s for beer.

  Then I do something I should have done a long time ago. From the very first time I said yes to a real “date” with Kael Shepard only a mere eight months ago.

  I take my friend hat off and put on one of a woman instead.

  And when I do that…when I open that door I’ve had sealed shut by another man for twenty-six years and view him through an entirely new lens, what I see astounds me. Floors me, actually.

  My body suddenly feels weak and needy.

  My core is starting to sizzle, and it’s not because it’s almost ninety degrees today.

  It’s because of Kael.

  It’s almost as if I’m seeing my husband for the very first time as the unparalleled male specimen he truly is.

  He’s beautiful. Knee-weakening beautiful, if I’m totally honest. He’s not ripped like those guys you see in muscle magazines. His thighs are powerful, but lean. His skin holds the healthy glow of summer’s rays. He doesn’t have six-pack abs like romance novelists write about. He is defined, though, and I easily see the outline of muscles that lie just beneath his taut flesh.

  His stomach flexes and his bicep bulges when he brings his arm overhead and tries to get his back. I must make a noise because all of a sudden he’s looking at me, and his grin gets bigger and wider the longer he stares.

  “What?” I ask him all breathless like.

  That earns me a chuckle. It sounds more like the sexy rumble of a motorcycle revving in the distance. “I like that way you’re looking at me, Swan.”