by Karina Halle
She straightens up and gives me a wry grin. “Fox, I am many things but I am not a wildlife rehabber nor a baby squirrel mama.”
“I’ll be called back out again soon, there are already fires cropping up in the Okanogan. Who is going to take care of him then?”
“How do you know it’s a he?” she asks, smiling at the squirrel again. “Did you check?”
“Well I have been feeding it. Here, let me show you how to do it.”
I reach in and bring the squirrel out, holding it gently in my hand while I bring out the syringe I preloaded with baby sauce. The squirrel immediately reaches out with its tiny hands, grabbing onto my fingers and the end of the syringe as I very slowly push the applesauce out. I can feel its heart beating rapidly against my skin but I know it’s not scared. This little guy doesn’t know fear yet.
“Oh my god,” Del whispers, coming in close to watch. “Fox, this is the cutest most precious thing I have ever seen. I might die.”
“It’s pretty easy so far,” I tell her as the squirrel eagerly slurps down the sauce. “I alternate between this and baby formula. Don’t worry, I looked it all up. It’s what the online help things recommend.”
“Can I try?” Del asks hopefully.
“Be my guest.” I delicately take the squirrel and place it in Del’s hands, then hand her the syringe. The squirrel seems only a bit hesitant to feed—I guess he’s used to me already—but then as Del coos and beams at it, the squirrel finally begins eating again, nose twitching.
“He is so adorable,” she says softly, looking up at me with big eyes. “Does he have a name?”
“All I got so far is Squirrel Nutkin. Remember him? Your mother got you all those Beatrix Potter books for your birthday one year.”
She looks momentarily flattered then shakes her head. “No way. Do you even remember that story? He taunts the owl, provoking him to do something until the owl finally bit off his tail. I don’t blame him. Squirrel Nutkin was an asshole.”
I laugh. “Well I’m an asshole too, so I guess he takes after me.”
“Yeah you’re right.”
I give her a wry grin. “Hey.”
“You’re my kind of asshole,” she says. Then I swear to god she blushes at that. She quickly clears her throat. “So back to the name.”
“You name him.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’ll be taking care of him.”
“Fox,” she says, her gaze sharp. “You can’t just give me this responsibility.”
I shrug. “I need your help. You’re welcome to find a wildlife rehabber in town. I just know that when I go, he needs someone to look after him and that someone should be you.”
“What about Julie?” she asks in a light tone, her eyes focused on the squirrel.
I frown. “What about Julie?”
“She’s your girlfriend isn’t she? Maybe she should be taking care of him.”
It’s almost as if I hear a challenge in her voice. “Del. You’re my closest friend. Maverick is never around and I’m pretty sure his dog would try to eat him. My dad would probably shoot the thing. My grandpa would forget to feed it. Shane…”
“Yeah, why not ask Shane?”
“Nah,” I say quickly, not wanting to involve him. “He’s got too much on his plate right now with the ranch and the wedding. Same goes for Rachel. Riley is just as busy as Maverick is, especially now that they’re living together and probably fucking like idiots every chance they get. Then there’s the guys from my team and that doesn’t help much better. You’re my only hope, Del,” I tell her in my best Princess Leia voice, which isn’t very good.
“But what about Julie?”
Jesus, what is with her harping on about Julie?
I cock a brow. “Julie is great, but you know we’ve only been dating for a few weeks and most of that I was away.”
“Where did you meet her?” Her voice has dropped, grown quieter. I guess these are totally normal questions, especially since I’d only introduced the two of them last night and with Del getting so busy at the bar, they never really had a chance to talk.
“She moved to town a few months ago from Vancouver, has a teaching gig at the high school in the fall. Math.”
“Oh,” she says. “Then she’s smart.”
I give her a funny look. “Of course she’s smart. You think I’d go out with someone who wasn’t?”
“I don’t know,” she says carefully. “I never really see you with anyone.”
She’s right about that but still. “Anyway, we met at the grocery store.”
“How cute.”
“I thought you of all people would approve,” I tell her, getting annoyed.
“And why would you think that?”
We stare at each other for a few long seconds until I realize the food is all gone and the squirrel is trying to wriggle out of her grasp.
“Here, give him to me,” I tell her, opening her hands and removing him. Sometimes I’ve been letting him hang out in the pocket of my bathrobe as I walk around the house but now I just put him back in his box, then back in his cage.
Something has changed in the air around us, there’s tension where there was never tension before. At least nothing I’ve picked up on. I don’t see why me dating Julie could be making things worse, unless Del is jealous.
The thought creeps into my brain slowly.
Could Del actually be jealous of Julie?
Why?
“Hey,” I say to her gruffly, taking a step closer. “You have nothing to worry about with Julie.”
“Nothing to worry about?” she squeaks, looking up at me.
I put my hand on her shoulder, the heat of her soft bare skin feels like electricity to my palm. I give it a gentle squeeze. “You’ll always be one of my best friends, Del. Aside from Maverick, you know me best. You always have. That doesn’t change when I start dating someone else. You should know that.”
She slowly stiffens under my grasp until I take my hand away and she swallows hard. “I know. I’m sure Julie is great. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to properly meet her.”
“Well you will tomorrow night, dinner at the ranch. I know you and your mom are coming, right? Unless it’s just wishful thinking on my grandfather’s behalf.”
“No,” she says quietly. “We’re coming.”
“Great,” I say but for some fucking reason it sounds forced. “So about the squirrel…”
She sighs and runs her hands down her face. “Fine. I’ll take him.”
“You don’t have to now, just come by here when I’m gone and feed him, spend time with him.”
“I thought you wanted me to take him completely,” she says folding her arms. “Then find him a proper home or return him to the wild.”
“I do…but maybe the change of environment would be too jarring for him.” The truth is though, I think I just want Del in my house when I’m gone. I hate leaving, I hate the pressure and the strain and the danger of the job, feeling precarious from one second to the next, then coming home to this empty place. The silence, the hollowness, it starts to choke me sometimes. A panic attack or something that sneaks up from behind. My mind starts wandering, then racing, toward something thick and dark.
If Del were here, she would give warmth and life to the place, like she always does. Even The Bear Trap, forever our watering hole, took on a whole new life and vibrancy once she took ownership. She has this talent of turning everything to gold.
“You sure?” she finally says, seeming to consider it.
“I’m sure.”
“Okay,” she says. A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “On one condition.”
“What?”
“You give him a name. Now. And no, not Squirrel Nutkin.”
I gnaw on my lip for a moment as I peer down at the squirrel’s tiny face. For a moment I think of calling him Avocado since he seemed to go crazy for the little mushed bits of avocado I’d given him yesterday. Then the hint of red
fur along his sides, and his tiny size, gives me an idea.
“Conan,” I say and the moment I say it, it already feels right.
But Del doesn’t look too impressed. “Like Conan O’Brien or Conan the Barbarian?”
“Both. He may be small but he is mighty.”
She laughs. “All right. I guess we’ll have to do with Conan.” She looks at the time on her phone. “Oh, I should probably get going.”
“Why?” I ask. “I was hoping we could get lunch together at Smitty’s.”
She cocks her head at me, as if what I’ve said has completely puzzled her. The wheels are turning behind her eyes but for the life of me I can’t figure out what she’s thinking. We usually get lunch there.
“My mom has a doctor’s appointment, I’m taking her,” she finally explains, heading out of my bedroom and toward the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
She gives me a slight wave and with that, she’s gone, leaving me and Conan alone with that strange tension again.
“That, my tiny squirrel friend,” I say to Conan, “is a woman. They’re just as confusing as they are beautiful.”
I swear he squeaks back at me in agreement.
3
Delilah
My mother is my rock. Even though I was raised without a real father, she’s woman enough, bold enough, to make me feel like I was never missing anything. She loved me enough to fill any possible void. She loved the Nelson boys with the same sort of ferocity too, hoping that she could make up for what they lost.
But with the Nelsons, their loss was much greater than mine. My father never died. He just left. Of course I’ve dealt with abandonment issues growing up, but there was a time in my teens where he reached out to talk to me, tried to be a part of my life again and I said no. I didn’t need him. At least I didn’t at the time, fueled by teenage pride.
For Shane, Maverick and Fox though, my mother could never replace the mother they lost, the mother who drowned herself down in the river one morning. I’d say Shane might have had the easiest time of it—he was just a baby when she died. He has no memories of her. But he has to contend with the guilt, that it was the post-partum depression that happened after his birth that caused her to commit suicide.
Of course it wasn’t Shane’s fault but Fox was quick to throw the blame around when he was younger. Because of that, the two of them aren’t close and it’s something I wish they could address before it’s too late. Not that I think they’re both in any danger—save for Fox’s job—but life is terribly short and the longer something burns you up inside, the harder it is to move past it. In fact, sometimes I see that darkness and anger flickering inside of Fox and I know so much of it has to do with that. Every time I’ve tried to bring it up though, he just shuts down. His demons are never up for discussion.
And so while it was Maverick who had the horror of discovering her in the river, it is Fox who has taken it the most to heart. He is the oldest, the one closest to his mother. The day she died I imagine a light inside Fox’s heart was forever snuffed out. From what his grandfather, Dick, has told me on more than one occasion, is that the boy Fox was before his mother’s death was someone very different from the Fox we have now.
Maybe in some ways, that’s why I’m so drawn to him—there are layers to him that I don’t get to see, that even he doesn’t see, a beautiful light somewhere under that brave and hardened façade. I also think I have a bit of a savior complex going on, though that isn’t all that uncommon. I know I’m not the first woman who has wanted to save a man from himself and uncover his hidden heart.
The only problem is, the longer I feel this way, the longer I hurt myself. I’ve done so well over the years and it’s finally coming to a head. The pain is finally starting to settle in the cracks in my heart, something I can no longer ignore.
My mother is the first to spot it.
“Delilah,” she says softly to me as I stand over the stove, slowly stirring the bone broth in the pot and watching the fat rise to the surface.
I glance at her and wonder if she’s feeling alright. It’s the same tone of voice she takes on when she’s having a flare-up. My mother has extremely bad arthritis, which has since morphed into chronic fatigue and other auto-immune disorders. It’s why after I broke up with Robert and moved out, I moved back into my mother’s house. She’s okay some days and seems to steadily be improving on a special paleo diet I have her on (when she sticks to it, that is), but she often needs my help and when I can, I cook most of our meals and clean the house, doing whatever I can for her.
“What?” I ask her, hoping it’s nothing serious. Sometimes the medication she takes can make her tired or anxious.
But her eyes are alert and they have a softness to them. A look I’ve been seeing too often lately.
“Are you okay?” she asks as she watches me closely.
I give her a placating smile. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
She continues to study me before sighing and sitting down at the table. “We don’t have to go tonight, you know. I can tell Hank I’m not feeling well. They’re used to it by now.”
I frown, though I can’t help but feel relief at the thought. “Why wouldn’t we go? Are you actually not feeling well?”
“I feel fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
I stiffen at that and pour the broth into two large mugs. “I’m doing good mom, really.”
I place the mug beside her and hope to god she drops this because I really don’t want to get into it. After going over to Fox’s place yesterday morning, I feel like I’m barely being held together by the most fragile string.
“Sweetheart, you know you can talk to me,” she says imploringly as I sit down beside her. “You just seem so…sad lately. I know you’re trying to hide it and you’re putting on a brave face and a big smile but…I can feel it off of you. Don’t think a mother can’t.”
I try to swallow but my throat feels thick. My eyes avert to the cup of broth and I try to focus on it, to keep my emotions buried, to keep the thoughts, those painful thoughts, out of my head. “I’m fine,” I say, but my voice snags.
She puts her hand over my hand and I watch as she tries to uncurl her fingers, to hold on, shaking slightly. Her wrinkles and sunspots and veins are so familiar to me and yet I’m suddenly hit with the realization that time is going too fast.
“Delilah,” she says, grasping onto my fingers.
And that’s all it takes.
I burst into tears, sobbing so loudly the broth almost spills over in the mug.
My mother gets up and leans over me, enveloping me into her arms, holding on as tight as she’s able to. “It’s okay,” she says soothingly, a shaking hand running down the back of my head, making me feel like a little kid again. “Let it all out.”
And I do. I cry and cry and cry, letting the overwhelming fear and rejection and sorrow run out of me, giving life to my tested heart.
It feels like ages go past before I finally calm down, my head pounding, my eyes burning, my nose stuffy.
My mother takes my hand and leads me over to the couch in the living room and sits me down, then brings out a box of tissues and the bone broth which has probably gone lukewarm.
“Is this about Fox?” she finally asks.
I stare at her with puffy eyes. How the hell can she tell?
“Sweetheart, I know he has a girlfriend,” she says gently. “When I called Vernalee to ask what I should bring to dinner, she let it slip that he’s seeing someone, Julie I think, and that she’ll be there.”
I take in a deep breath, but even so, I feel like I’m drowning. I nod, afraid to speak.
“Del…you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
Don’t cry again, keep it together, deny, deny, deny.
But I can’t deny it, not to her.
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “I love him. Not as a friend. I love him as more than that. So much more.”
“I hate to say it, b
ut I have been waiting for this day you know,” she says.
I glance at her curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, sweetheart. It’s always been obvious to me. I know you. I’ve raised you. I’ve raised him, too. Both of you together. And you’ve always looked at Fox in a way I’ve never seen you look at anyone else. None of your boyfriends, not even Bobby. I just wasn’t sure if you were aware of it or not.”
“I’ve been aware,” I tell her, feeling overwhelmingly tired all of a sudden. “I just thought it would eventually go away. I thought…I thought maybe it was normal, that it was just a crush. That he was my friend, practically a brother, and I was attracted to him as anyone would be. I mean, look at him.”
She gives me a wane smile. "He is a very handsome man. Very troubled, too."
"I know. But can you blame him? After all he's been through, his job..."
"That accounts for some, but not for everything," she says thoughtfully. "You know Fox has always been hard to figure out but what I do know is that there's something inside him that stops him from feeling happy. I saw it in him growing up, plain as day. He did alright, and despite his temper, he was a good kid. Still, I'd watch him sometimes. Often, actually. I worried about him the way I worry about you now. Knowing that there was something underneath that caused him pain. What I noticed was that even when he was laughing, even when he was happy, he was holding himself back like he didn't deserve to have that happiness."
I'd noticed that too, of course. But when you've known someone for so long, even their afflictions become a part of them. You learn to deal with the bad as well as the good. Fox is so many things, good and bad, and I’ve accepted every part of him.
"And," she goes on, "I think it's something he's going to have to contend with for the rest of his life, unless its brought to his attention." She pauses and has a sip of her bone broth. "Oh, this broth is good,” she says brightly.
"Good. I tried a new kind I found in the frozen section of the health food store." Then reality comes slamming into me again and my heart squeezes. "Did you know that's where Fox met Julie? Can you imagine? It's like some cheesy romance where they're both reaching for the last banana or something."
