“I don’t want to leave,” she said into the fabric of his coat. “But how stupid—with a half brother who hates me.”
“Shh,” he said and kissed the top of her head, resting his face against it.
“I don’t know what this means,” she said.
She felt Bryce sigh before speaking. “You don’t have to.”
“So you don’t think I’m nuts.”
“He didn’t answer.”
She breathed in a ragged way and then pushed back to look in his eyes.
“Something’s different.” She looked at him. “Is it different for you?”
He nodded but didn’t speak.
“Well.” He lifted her chin. “I’m in there with you.” He then bent over and kissed her fully on the lips, as shy as an eighth-grade boy at his first dance.
She blinked and looked back, stunned.
“Did you just kiss me?” She blinked several more times.
He nodded.
She looked more closely.
“Did you mean it?”
He looked at her. “What do you think?”
“That’s not an answer.”
Then his eyes looked funny, out of focus, almost like when he’d smoked a joint, only she knew he hadn’t.
Amelia looked away. “Think maybe we love each other?” She sat back in the driver’s seat as he kept nodding. “Like love, love each other?”
“Yeah.” He smiled and leaned over to kiss her again. “I do.”
This time she leaned over and kissed him back, tasting his lips as her fingers felt through his hair, kissing his face, nibbling his cheeks as he laughed. She slid her arms around his neck and smelled the place on his chest that she had while under Gloria’s deck with the pups tucked into her coat.
“I’ve wanted this for s-o-o long,” he said and pressed her to his chest. “I wanna be with you.”
It felt familiar. Safe and sheltered.
They kissed again. All of the years within inches at the lab bench and swimming together in oceans now felt like the love dances of sea horses, circling and folding into each other as they clasped hands.
Bryce was the one who always said yes. She breathed his familiar scent, giving over to what she’d at times suspected might be there, what she’d never seen coming and yet always had—aside from Alex he’d been her ballast; he’d kept her steady when the pull of the undertow felt stronger than her will. “You’ll have to tell me to go away and even then I won’t.”
The porch light flipped on.
“Busted,” he said.
She looked at the outline of his profile, always loving the shape of his nose.
“I’ve always loved your nose,” she said.
“My nose.”
“Yeah,” she agreed with herself. “I like how it sits on your face.”
“You are weird.”
“Yeah,” she admitted. “God, what I’d give for a bottle of wine,” she said and sighed. “I could sit here all night.”
“Yeah, except for the subarctic temps and the fact that they’re gonna think something’s happened.”
She pulled the front of his coat closer and kissed him, nestling next to the side of his neck, kissing it as he chuckled. “Something has happened.”
She watched him smile.
“Look.” She pointed to the windows.
They’d all been fogged up.
29
They’d just fed the pups and set them down on top of the heating pad wrapped in a blanket in the crate by the side of the bed in the guest room.
Amelia shut the bedroom door as she sat looking around at framed photographs of owls, wolves, and eagles. She’d showered and slipped back into Charlotte’s sweatpants. Sinking into the post-shower delirium brought on by the warm water, she startled at the knock on the door.
“Well good night,” Charlotte called through the guest room door.
Amelia jumped up, opening the door.
“Thanks for everything, Charlotte.”
The woman walked off with an expression as if knowing something that Amelia hadn’t explained.
Amelia closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed.
The hall shower turned off. After a few moments Bryce emerged wearing TJ’s sweatpants as he toweled off his hair.
“God, that felt good,” he said, smoothing back his hair.
She watched as he climbed into bed, bare chested.
“They asleep?” He leaned over and looked into the half-open crate.
“For now.”
She didn’t move from the corner of the bed.
“Hey,” he called.
She didn’t look as he moved closer.
“Come here.” He touched her shoulder.
“Maybe we should wait.” She turned to look at him.
His face asked why.
“You know.” Her eyes traveled around the walls, the dresser with candles, the rough-hewn night tables with lamps. “Kinda weird to have it be in my brother’s house.”
“Yeah, probably so,” Bryce said and rolled back onto the pillows.
She watched him for a moment.
“Okay, so come here then.” He gestured for her to cuddle.
“You okay with that?”
He made a face as if he’d be crazy otherwise. “No pressure.”
She relaxed. “Thanks. I mean just look at me.” She snorted and pointed at Charlotte’s rolled-up sweatpants, dotted with white spots of dried formula where a pup had dripped; she’d not washed her hair in days, making an executive decision to skip the hair since it would’ve taken hours for it to dry.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
“Ri-ight,” she said with sarcasm, remembering how carefully she’d planned her first night with Myles—new silk bedclothes, high thread-count sheets that she’d washed and even went out to Walgreens to buy an iron, pressing them on the kitchen counter. Bought perfume, even had her nails and toes done at a salon near campus that she’d eavesdropped on students raving about while standing on line in the cafeteria. Her thumbnail had chipped on the drive home.
Bryce lifted the covers on one side, holding them up for her.
She scurried up and climbed in next to him, snuggling up to his neck.
“There ya go,” he said and circled her with his arms.
“You’re so sweet.” She reached to turn off the lamp and then kicked Charlotte’s sweatpants off the side of the bed.
* * *
They hadn’t slept between feedings every two hours and then making love; they’d dozed in and out of a state of twilight sleep. They lay looking at one another in the dim snow-glow from the windows, studying each other’s faces as if seeing things that were new. Lying close they watched each other as if neither believed their good fortune and yet knowing that it had been there all along. They were used to the lack of sleep on project dives. Amelia had dozed folded against his chest with the pups on the pillows just above their heads.
The next morning Bryce had cleared the walkways with the snowblower, watching as TJ cleared out the driveway with several passes of the snowplow mounted on his truck.
Afterward he whispered to Amelia, “I’m getting a truck like that.”
“Right. Try parking it on the street.”
“I could quit Sea Life and start a business plowing parking lots and shit.”
“Think that might have to be my job,” she said with a sigh.
The sun was as bright as it gets for the day that far north, casting long shadows on everything, especially the trees. But even still, the surrounding groves of birch trees bleached out to the point of invisibility against the fresh snow, reducing all sense of dimensionality into a blindingly white canvas.
As they were preparing to drive down to Minneapolis, TJ invited them into his office. He’d already sent Amelia links on wolves and wolf dogs, and what to expect in the coming months from the pups in terms of behavior and biology.
Panic began to seep through the cracks in Amelia’s will as s
he envisioned the pups at work and in their apartment. And while Bryce had already come up with a plan to cover the feedings at work, she wasn’t so sure. She was already in trouble with the managers and was at a loss as to how they’d do their jobs, keep up with feedings, and keep the pups quiet.
Charlotte looked skeptical too as Amelia described her plan, and then she remembered Jen having reported that one of the tenants had just gotten threatened with eviction for having hamsters.
“I’ll keep them in our office in the crate for now while we’re at work.”
“Think your boss’ll mind?” Charlotte asked. It was the first time Amelia heard doubt in the woman’s voice.
Amelia chortled with sarcasm.
“Well … technically, I’m the boss though I’m not,” Amelia said, wondering if harboring wolf dogs might be the final eccentricity that landed her an invitation to leave.
Charlotte and TJ listened.
Amelia felt their skepticism, but also began to wonder if they’d wanted her to leave the pups with them. They hadn’t said as much, but she felt their mounting doubts about her and Bryce being able to handle it. Anger rose up, a feeling of being threatened or competing with them and she had to calm herself for a moment. Such raw emotions were baffling. Being up there had stirred up so many things, as if their intensity matched the primal, raw beauty of the lake, the ravines, the forests.
“They’re gonna get big real fast. Real big.” Charlotte kept on in a way that signaled continued skepticism.
“And they’re gonna crap and piss on everything,” TJ qualified.
So what’s your point? she’d wanted to say. She knew this, Bryce did too. They’d managed all sort of marine rescues and situations in the wild.
“Plus they howl,” Charlotte said. “Really loud. Even this little. Wolf howls can travel miles. I could hear Lacey’s howl, knew her voice—sometimes could hear her echoing off the surrounding hills.” The woman looked toward the windows. “Signaling Jethro or somebody.”
“Yeah.” Amelia waved her hand, thinking of whale clicks and songs.
“God,” TJ said as he crossed his arms and stood back, looking at her. “You said that just like your father.”
Compliment or insult, she wondered. She didn’t like the feel of the conversation and felt ganged up on. She slipped her hand through Bryce’s arm.
She paused to look at TJ. “He was your father too,” she fired back.
TJ looked away. She was going for funny but it didn’t come out that way. Watching for a frown or smile she saw neither.
“I was hoping we’d have more time to talk about him—” about what happened, she’d wanted to say but chickened out.
TJ had turned back to his desk, collecting papers and arranging them into a brown accordion file.
She’d seen his face as he’d turned away, wondering if she’d ever know what had happened with their father, why he’d left, how TJ felt growing up, and wanting to find a way to have some sort of relationship if not friendship.
Then by his elbow she noticed a shell. She reached past him and picked it up, turning it over. A Tyrian purple snail shell.
“Where’d you get this?”
TJ looked up at her. They stared each other down.
“Probably same place as you.”
She set the shell down and turned away.
“But he—”
Amelia couldn’t finish the sentence and instead squatted by the blanket, elbow on her knee, chin in hand to watch the pups. The shell made her feel as shaky as the pups—their back legs cow-hocked and bent at the knees as they ambled along, struggling to walk, explore, their heads up, sniffing as they looked around with their Mr. Magoo eyes as if having just landed on Mars for the fifteenth time since the day before.
“Maybe sometime we could talk, TJ,” she said just loud enough for him to hear as he handed her a file with papers.
Amelia watched as Bryce listened to both Charlotte and TJ giving him the lowdown on raising Lacey and Junior. She was so confused, so overwhelmed, she hugged her knees and watched as Junior squatted and peed, wanting to look at the shell, but not allowing her eyes to wander.
She set down the file and stood, slipping her arm again through Bryce’s. He squeezed it back as a lover, as men had in the past. Whatever happened, Bryce would be there. If it went bad, he’d be there. If it went good, he’d be there too.
“Just handed off information to Amelia,” TJ told Bryce.
She wondered why he avoided speaking directly to her, as if she was some irresponsible teenager who couldn’t be trusted.
Amelia bent and lifted the file from where she’d set it down, holding it up as evidence, trying to catch TJ’s eye so he would look at her.
“Being that both their parents were high content wolf /husky hybrids, there’s a high probability these will be too,” TJ explained.
“So how do you tell wolves from regular dogs?” Bryce asked.
“I’ll show you.” TJ picked up Junior as if he was a specimen. The pup cried out, splaying his front legs. TJ looked at Bryce. “First of all—wrong time of year for wolf litters. Wolves are always born mid to the end of March through May,” he said. “Same with foxes.”
“How come?” Bryce asked.
“That’s the mating cycle,” he explained. “Maximizes the chances for survival. Weather, availability of food, water.”
Amelia and Bryce nodded.
“This young,” he continued, “we go by markings, conformation, and color of nails, eyes, and footpads. All wolves are born with blue eyes. They change to amber, green. Their eyes are heavily lined with black pigment and very slanted, almond shaped—it maximizes communication. They talk with their eyes.”
Bryce and Amelia looked at each other. “It’s the same with marine mammals. Dolphins, whales,” Bryce said.
TJ turned Junior over. The pup shrieked. “For one, wolf pups are solid in color at birth, either charcoal, dark brown or black like this little guy,” TJ said. “But if you look…” He touched Junior’s chest. “He’s got a white star on his chest.”
Junior quieted as TJ turned him right side up.
“Then we look at nails.” TJ held the pup’s paw. “He’s got black, but there’s a few white, ivory ones on each paw. Dogs have lighter colored nails except for Arctic wolves.”
He then went on to explain how the pads of wolf pups will stay dark, almost black.
“Wolves’ tails don’t curl like you see in domestic dogs,” he explained. “They’re either straight out, up in a form of dominance, or down at rest or tucked under in fear or submission. Tails have no white tips, only black or indistinguishable.”
“You mentioned conformation,” Bryce asked.
“Pure wolves,” TJ explained, “much like this guy, have narrow chests, their legs are longer, close together, almost knock-kneed in appearance—it enables them to burst into speed. Very narrow shoulders and hind ends—very different from dogs, even this young.”
He held up Junior.
“See his legs? Chest?” TJ asked. “They’re young.” He gestured to the sleeping gray female. “But right there you can see wolf conformation. Yet both their tails are tipped with white—that’s husky.”
He finished explaining and looked at them both.
“I’ve read somewhere that they have special scent glands,” Amelia said.
“Yep. What’s called a precaudal gland near the top of their tails.” TJ held out Junior’s tail. “It’s marked by stiff guard hairs. See?” TJ began parting the fur on Junior’s tail with his fingers. “He’s got the marking but—I’ll put my money on it not being a functional gland. Many old northern breeds have the caudal mark. Wolves also have glands up on their cheeks, behind their ears, between their toes, which is why they will rub their faces against you. People think they’re being affectionate, and they are, but it’s also to mark you. Dogs’ll do the same thing. Leftover instincts.”
Amelia crouched down and picked up Lacey to examine her tail. “S
he’s got the mark too, but”—she parted the guard hairs—“no gland.”
“Her pads?” TJ asked.
Amelia turned the pup over. “Pink, some black.”
“With pure wolves they’re dark gray and black,” he said. “As they get older, you’ll be able to tell more behaviorally. Some are more wolflike, like Jethro. I’ve forwarded those links to you; feel free to call us anytime.”
“Thanks,” Bryce said.
The pups began to cry. Charlotte quickly mixed formula at the office sink, shaking both bottles and she handed one to Amelia. Everyone watched as the pups latched on, drawing down an increasing amount of formula as the bottles were empty in a matter of under a minute.
“Gosh, they’re so thin.” Charlotte turned to TJ, shaking her head in worry.
“They’ll fatten up,” TJ said. “Though I’m a little more worried about Junior right now,” he said. “He’s thinner. But just keep to the feeding schedule. They cry, stuff a bottle in their mouths until they transition to kibble. It’ll be another two or so weeks.”
After the feeding, the pups were placed down on a mat on the office floor. Junior seemed more energetic, scooting around until Lacey found a burst of energy to ram him.
“Ma hadn’t lived there for five years,” TJ explained. “Bad arthritis, hard for her to get around.”
Amelia turned to him, hoping he’d say more about Gloria, more about her life, who she was, but he didn’t.
“No one’s gone out there to leave food,” Charlotte said.
They sat for a while.
“Bet she was running with Jethro though,” Charlotte said. “The two were inseparable.”
They watched the pups wiggling and rolling on a blanket in the middle of the floor with Junior lifting his head for moments at a time.
“These are more like house wolves,” Charlotte said. “It’s going to be a lot of work.” She looked from Amelia to Bryce, checking one last time whether they were up for it. “You’ll have your hands full.”
“We know that,” Amelia said, feeling like she was countering something that was not being said. They’d been on board with them taking the pups and now it seemed to have changed.
Fly by Night Page 28
