by Cheree Alsop
Chapter 16
When I finished both bowls and a helping of Mom's homemade potato salad, I was finally able to convince her that I wasn't starving anymore. I sat on the ottoman and had them sit on the love seat. They held hands, their fingers intertwined, and both watched me as though willing to hear what I had to say as long as I stayed there forever. I told them the details of what had happened, and appreciated the way they simply nodded at the hard parts. Their eyes held mine and reminded me what I always treasured about my parents even though I gave them such a hard time. They loved me, no matter what I went through or what I did, they truly loved me.
“I can't stay,” I said when I finished the story. Their faces fell. A stab went through my heart in response, but I forced myself to go on. “It's too dangerous, at least for now. There's a home in Texas-”
“Texas?” Mom said. “Why would you want to live in Texas?”
I fought back a smile at the thought of how the Texans would respond. “They have a safe home there, a place where I’m staying with the girl that helped me escape.”
“Oh, a girl,” Dad said, nudging Mom with a twinkle in his eyes.
At the mention of a girl, an angry look swept across Mom’s face. “We saw Renee with Dean Parker’s boy; you know, that computer genius or something or other. I wanted to say something because it’s only been a few months since the funeral-“
I cut her off with a shake of my head. “It’s okay, Mom. I know about Chad, and I really don’t mind.”
She took my hand and looked me fiercely in the eyes. “You’re sure? You two were so close and for her to just-“
“Mom, it’s alright. I saw them together; they work. I can’t expect her to accept me for who I am, especially since my future is so uncertain. I’m really okay with it.”
“It’s that girl, isn’t it?” Dad pressed, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “That werewolf girl from the lab.”
“Dad,” I said, exasperated.
Mom glanced at Dad. “She did sound special. Is she waiting in Texas for you?”
I shrugged, but my heart turned over at the thought. “I’m not sure. Jaze and the Hunters are trying to find her pack, then she’ll probably go home. She’s been through a lot.”
“You have, too,” Mom said softly.
I gave her a small smile and she hugged me again, her arms full of their normal vigor and strength. “It’s so good to see you, Kay. You have no idea how much we’ve missed you.”
“I think I have some idea,” I said. A tear escaped even though I thought I had cried them all out. I wiped it away and stood up. “But I do need to go. There are too many unanswered questions and I need to protect Grace from the lab until she gets back to her pack.”
Mom stood too. “Stay tonight, please?” She looked up at me, her soft eyes pleading. “It’d be so nice to know one of our children is under our roof again.”
I looked at Dad and he nodded. I sighed, but inwardly I needed to sleep in my own home again as much as they needed me there. “I’ll stay.”
Mom let out a happy little laugh and hugged me again, then bustled off to get my room ready. “It hasn’t been touched since you left, but also, it hasn’t been touched since you left,” she called over her shoulder by way of explanation.
Dad just laughed. “You know she’s always happiest when she’s looking after you kids.” Sorrow flashed through his eyes and he put an arm around my shoulder. “You and Colleen were close. I know you miss her as much as we do.”
I nodded, but didn’t trust myself to speak.
“The funeral was nice,” he said quietly, walking me toward my room. “Debra’s family moved away a few days afterward. I couldn’t blame them. Most of the time we spend in this house I still think you two are at your friends’ or school; it hurts like the devil whenever I think about what happened.” He glanced toward the sound of Mom bustling in the next room. “I think we both pretend a lot of the time.”
I paused by the door to Colleen’s room. I couldn’t bring myself to open it, but her scent drifted from underneath, stopping my steps as surely as if I hit a wall. The scent was old, faded, and the thought brought tears to my eyes with such force that I was sobbing before I realized it. Dad put his arms around me and soon my shirt was wet with his tears as well. Mom found us there and didn’t say anything. Her familiar arms held me with the strength of love I had missed so much and knew so well. We held each other long after we had cried out all of our tears.
Colleen’s scent stayed with me after Mom and Dad saw me safely tucked into my bed. It helped to know there were two others who would never forget her. It was still my fault, all of it, but sharing the sorrow felt like a salve on the burned edges of my heart.
***
I couldn't sleep. The strangeness of being in my old room without the luxury of a buzz or a high to dull the sharp edges of memory brought by the pictures on the walls and the memorabilia of my youth made the bedroom uncomfortable with familiarity. I finally gave up trying and went to the back patio that overlooked the orange trees Dad cultivated with his green thumb. Just looking at them reminded me of the first cup of orange juice each year.
Dad used to parade around the house with his basket of oranges, cut them carefully in half and juice them by hand, then pour each of us a glass with a solemnity that had us all laughing by the time he was done. He drank with a flourish, then invited us to do the same. No orange juice ever tasted as good as Dad’s fresh squeezed first batch. My mouth watered at the memory.
The fresh evening air I was used to had changed. The crisp scent of the citrus trees was deeper as though every orange left its mark within the tree. The grass carried the warmth of summer rain, the flavor of rich soil, and the garden hose smell of the water with which Dad lovingly watered it when the season grew dry. I could smell the dogs a few houses down, a cat in the bushes next door, and the sawdust and vegetable scent of a mouse hiding under the porch.
The slight breeze brought the sounds of night, crickets chirruping from the rocks at the corner of the garden, tree branches rubbing against each other, and leaves rustling as though shaking off the dust of the day and relishing the relief of night. The sound of grass crushed softly under a footstep that would have been soundless to human ears sent a chill down my spine. I turned slowly and my wolf eyesight made out the shadow of someone hiding near the trees where I had been earlier. The wind blew against my back, sending the scent of whoever hid away from me, but there was something to his stance, something about the way his hands opened and closed that brought relief to my chest.
“Jet?” I whispered.
He let out a quiet breath and took a step forward so I could see him more clearly. “Jaze wanted to make sure you were safe.”
He said it as a half-apology, but only gratitude filled me at Jaze’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you.” I hesitated. “Do you want to come in?”
He shook his head and I caught a faint smile on his lips in the moonlight. “I’m more comfortable outside.”
I nodded, then heard a door open in the house. Jet disappeared from view and I felt another surge of gratefulness for the werewolves who had made me a part of their lives. I tracked footsteps down the hall without turning around, then fought back a smile when the kitchen door slid open and Dad’s familiar steps came up behind me. “Looking for a night breeze?”
I nodded without turning. “Just remembering the orange juice.”
“I’ve got some in the fridge. It’s not the first batch, but it tastes like sunshine,” he offered.
I couldn’t help the smile that came to my face. “I’ll bet it does.”
He left the porch and I relished the sounds of Mom’s cups, complete with pictures of oranges on the glasses, filling with Dad’s liquid gold. He hummed a wordless song that brought back memories of playing at his feet while he worked on cars in the garage. One particular memory rose to the forefront.
“Your Barbies are too big,” I argued.
“They can ride
on top,” Colleen said. She set a Barbie on my favorite monster truck.
I shook my head. “That’s silly. They don’t fit and no one would ride on top of a truck like that. They’d die.”
Colleen stuck out her tongue, her dark blond hair a mess of curls no one could tame. “They wouldn’t die. They’re plastic.”
“Good, then they won’t feel this.” I ran over her favorite one with my truck.
“Don’t do that, Kay! You’ll hurt her!” Colleen snatched the Barbie back and hugged it to her chest.
“I thought you said they can’t get hurt, they’re plastic.”
“I’m telling Dad,” Colleen said. She raised her voice, “Dad!”
“Kaynan, stop running over your sister’s dolls,” Dad said, his voice muffled from the hood of the car a few feet away.
“But they don’t fit in my cars, and she wants them to ride on top. They look stupid.”
“They do not.” Colleen’s eyes filled with tears and she began to sob. “I don’t have a car that fits. My Barbies are too big.”
My sister's tears always broke me down. I looked at her dolls for a minute, then an idea came to me. “Be right back,” I said. I dashed from the garage and returned a few minutes later with my dump truck. I set it on the floor next to Colleen, stacked her Barbies in the back, then fit one of my G.I. Joes in the driver’s seat.
Colleen sniffed and wiped her nose. “What're you doing?”
“Taking them to the drive-in,” I replied with a grin.
Her eyes lit up and she followed me up the stairs into the living room where we set up the television as a movie theater.
I went back in with Dad and began to play with my trucks again.
“That was nice,” he said after a few minutes of tinkering. He started to hum the wordless song he always did when he was happy. I smiled and drove my trucks across the cement floor.
The sound of the sliding door broke through my reverie.
“Cold and sweet, just the way we like it,” Dad said; he had repeated the phrase a thousand times and I used to roll my eyes, but tonight the familiarity warmed my heart.
I accepted the glass he held out and took a drink. The crisp bite of fresh citrus chilled my throat. I sighed. “I’ve missed this.”
He glanced at me sideways. “Me, too. Seems it’s been a lot longer than the accident that we’ve been able to enjoy a cold glass on the patio.”
I nodded, glad that he said it without remorse or longing, but as if he looked forward to many more occasions.
Dad cleared his throat, glanced at me, then studied a drop of condensation as it rolled down the side of his glass.
“What is it?”
Red tinted his cheeks and he fumbled his words, “I, uh. . . I was wondering if maybe, uh. . . .” He took a steeling breath and met my gaze. “I want to see what you look like as a wolf.” I stared at him and he dropped his eyes back to the cup. “I always liked wolves,” he said quietly.
I fought back a smile. “Anything for you, Dad.”
It was his turn to stare, as much at my comment as the offer. I pushed down a pang of regret at the way both my parents were used to being treated. “I’ll just step into the garage. It’s a little, uh, uncomfortable, and I’d rather you just see the final results.” I paused and glanced at him. “But I’ll warn you, it’s not pretty.”
A smile hinted at the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t take you as the pretty type.”
A laugh escaped me and I patted him on the shoulder when I passed.
I took my clothes off in the garage and phased quickly, amazed at how easy it had become, then hesitated by the door leading outside. I wished Mrs. Carso’s hair dye had lasted longer, but there was nothing I could do about the red fur that made me feel like a demon from some dark underworld. I took a deep breath, then stepped out into the waning moonlight and padded slowly around the side of the house to where Dad waited on the patio. The soft notes of his humming reached my ears and gave me strength. I snorted softly to catch his attention before I got closer.
Dad turned and his eyes met mine. They widened, though I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or just surprise. I took a few more steps so that I reached the porch light, then paused on the edge of it.
Dad went down the two stairs and hesitated at the bottom. “You’re still Kaynan, right? I mean, you can still understand me and everything?”
I dipped my head in a nod and his eyes lit up. He hurried to my side. “You look amazing!” he exclaimed. His hands hovered above my fur as though he wanted to touch it but didn’t know if that would be too forward. I leaned against his legs and he backed up a step, then laughed. “You’re huge!”
He walked into the light and I followed him. He looked me over critically. “I guess you weigh as much as you did as a human, but if I’m not mistaken, most wolves weigh a lot less.” He frowned thoughtfully. “It makes sense, though. I mean, where would the mass go? It’s got to go somewhere.” He realized he was rambling and grinned. “Sorry. I’ve never seen anything like this. Your mother would get a kick out of it.”
He rose to wake her, but I shook my head. “Are you sure?” he asked. “She wouldn’t be afraid, I promise.” I shook my head again and he sighed. “I understand.” He sat down on the porch steps and motioned for me to join him. I glanced around uncertainly, then sat on the cool cement. He set a hand on my back. “You don’t want your mom to think of you like this.” At my nod, he smiled sympathetically, then his gaze turned appreciative. “But you sure make an amazing wolf! I’ve never seen fur this color. The red and black make you look like something out of a horror novel, ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’ or something.”
I rolled my eyes and he laughed. “Hey, it’s one of my favorites.”
I stood, stepped out from under his hand, and trotted back to the garage. Phasing back to human form didn’t feel as urgent, and I appreciated that Dad didn’t make it uncomfortable, but it was hard to hold a conversation when only one side could speak.
I slipped into my clothes and went back to join him on the porch steps. He handed me another glass of orange juice and we sat in silence, watching the stars.
“Thanks for showing me,” he said quietly.
I glanced at him and was surprised to see a smile on his face. “You’re welcome?”
He laughed at the questioning tone. “Hey, it’s not every day a father gets his son back and sees a mythological creature at the same time.”
I rolled my eyes and he laughed and patted me on the back. “Good to have you home, son.”
Chapter 17
When I woke in my own room the next morning, it was hard to believe that the accident had ever happened. But the dust that Mom hadn’t quite gotten to tickled my nose and the too-faint scent of Colleen in the house reminded me of what was real. I missed Grace with a pang of longing and also with a sense of relief. She was slowly, with her beautiful, breath-stealing smile, the touch of her fingers, and her sweet spirit, stealing away the tattered pieces of my heart and helping me realize that I could be whole again.
Guilt had tangled at the back of my mind over Renee as though I betrayed her with my growing feeling for Grace, but now that was over. I was free to let Grace in, as much as it scared and terrified me to let anyone so close. But Grace accepted me for all of my flaws, and she made me feel like my best self when I was around her. I didn’t know where that could go, but possibility filled me with hope.
I held the covers to my face for another minute, took a deep breath of the scents of my childhood, then rose to face a new day. The dark green plush carpet, worn from years of traffic and burned in a few places from the cigarettes I had hidden only to realize now that it was a smell that never truly went away, welcomed my bare feet like an old friend. I stumbled to the closet, pulled on a pair of my own clothes with the feeling of regaining something that had been lost, and followed the sounds and scents of breakfast to the kitchen.
The smell of omelets, eggs, green peppers, cheese, onion
s, tomatoes, salsa, and seasonings made my mouth water. I paused by the edge of the doorway and watched Mom loosen the edges of the eggs from the pan, then fold them expertly over a pile of filling. She sprinkled shredded cheese on the top and put the lid back on.
She wore her white apron with daisies ironed on the front. One of the ties had started to fray. When I was little, I used to hold onto them and sit by her feet while she made cookies. Flour would sprinkle down like snow, and I often suspected she did it on purpose. When she turned, her eyes sparkled upon finding me watching her.
“What’s that look on your face, Kay?” she asked, wiping her hands on a blue dish rag.
I sat on a stool on the opposite side of the counter from her. “Just remembering being little.”
“The flour?”
I nodded. “I used to bury my soldiers in it. Colleen threw it in my hair once and we got into a flour fight.”
She nodded. “You ran and told us, and when we came in Dad picked up right where you left off by rubbing a handful in my hair!” She shook her head with a faraway smile. “It took forever to clean all the flour out of the kitchen. Everything turned to paste.”
I laughed. “Colleen made her hair stand up. She looked like one of those troll dolls.”
Her laugh echoed mine. “You two were always into something.”
I fought back an overwhelming wave of sadness and picked up Mom’s favorite egg-shaped glass serving tray. Colleen and I had painted a puppy on it and given it to her as a Christmas present years ago. It had a crack through the middle and separated when I held it up. “What happened?”
“Dropped it,” Mom said. She looked away, but I could tell there was more to the story that she wasn’t saying. She went back to the omelet and scooped it into a warming bowl, then poured more eggs into the pan.
“Dad hasn’t fixed it?” I asked, surprised.
She shook her head and met my eyes. “Dad’s the one that dropped it. He took the call from the hospital the day of the accident.”
