The only sound in the house was the wolf’s ragged breathing. In his nightmares, he burned. The bad woman stood over him, wielding her fire, watching him scream with glee in her eyes. He whined, seeking comfort from Mara, but the bed was empty. Panic drove him to the floor, nearly falling as his still-weakened and aching muscles protested the sudden movement. He ran through the house, desperate. No Mara. Where did she go? Mara! Mara! He couldn’t speak . . . not in words . . . but his desperate vocalizations echoed throughout the house.
Thunk. The lock on the garage door. Mara. He ran towards the sound.
She entered the house, carrying a bag over her shoulder. “Hey there, Bud.”
The wolf whined. Not Bud. That wasn’t his name. He didn’t know what his name was. He only knew it wasn’t Bud. At least she didn’t call him dog. The bad woman called him dog.
She dropped her bag on the floor and the wolf sniffed it. Scents of chlorine, sweat, and coconut wafted over him. He knew these scents, but he didn’t know how. The sickness that had clung to her the previous night had faded. Her hair was wet. He was so happy to see her. He wasn’t alone. She’d keep him safe.
“You didn’t even flinch when I touched you this morning.” Mara smiled at him and stroked his head. She filled a bowl with a mix of bison, beef, and blueberries and put it down on the floor at her feet while she cooked something for herself. Her food smelled okay, but not as good as the meat. He ate heartily. His strength was returning now that he was getting regular meals. He’d almost forgotten what it had been like to be cold, hungry, and in constant pain. Mara ate standing up at the counter. When she was done, she went into the living room and patted the couch next to her. The wolf hurried in and jumped up, lying down with his head in her lap.
Cool, comforting fingers scratched behind his ears. The storm inside him calmed. Not enough for him to shift. Never enough for that. The wolf snuggled closer to her, content with his full belly, comfortable bed, and sweet voice in his ear.
“I’m not sure I can swim much longer.” A deep sadness laced her tone. “I won’t even be able to drive in a few weeks. I don’t know what I’ll do . . . Goddess. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” A tear tumbled down her cheek and landed on the wolf’s muzzle. “I wish I could stay here with you all day, but I’ve got to go out for about six hours. It’s Thanksgiving. I’ll be back, but I don’t know what to do with you. Do you think you can stay in the house the whole time?”
The wolf yipped at her. Stay. He didn’t want her to go. Mara stroked his head. “I feel better when I’m with you,” she said. “It’s almost like I’m not sick at all. It won’t last, I’m sure. But even if you give me an extra day, I’ll take it.” Tears gathered in her eyes again. The wolf nudged her hand and whined. “You can’t stay here forever, you know,” she whispered. “I’m going to die soon. I have to figure out what to do with you before that.”
The wolf pressed closer to her. He knew the word die. Die was bad. The rest was gibberish to him. He didn’t want her to die. He wanted her to stay with him. She smelled good. She was kind. She was his.
Mara let him outside for a bit while she showered and he chased birds. The action was instinctual, but it wasn’t him. Every hour, every day that passed, brought him closer to the truth. He wasn’t a wolf. He was a man. He remembered walking on two legs. Speaking in words. Wearing clothes. He remembered being around other people. People he cared about. He didn’t know how to get back there. Or where there was.
Mara smelled clean and fresh and hardly sick at all when she called him back inside. The wolf followed her when she gestured towards the bathroom. She ran a brush through his matted fur and poured pot after pot of warm water over his body. Every time she touched him, he felt better, stronger. When he shook the water from his fur, she laughed. “You look practically handsome now,” she said, and kissed the top of his wet head.
After she’d dried him off, he ran back to the living room and immediately lay on the couch where they’d sat earlier. He looked at her expectantly, but she shook her head. “I’ve got to go, Bud. But I’ll be back in a while. Please don’t destroy my house.”
When she left, the wolf jumped off of the couch and went into her bedroom. He curled up on her bed, right next to where she slept, and fell asleep.
Mara knocked on the bright red door of the house in the Queen Anne neighborhood of Seattle. It flew open and a pint-sized tornado of activity whirled towards her. “Aunt ‘Ara!” Adam and Lisa’s oldest daughter, Sarabeth, snared her in a tangle of arms and legs. She was only six and had called her ‘Ara for years. Mara wasn’t technically the kids’ aunt, but they didn’t know that. She loved it. She’d never have children, not now, so she spoiled the kids as much as she could.
“I brought you something,” Mara said quietly. She reached into her purse, withdrew a chocolate Santa, and handed it to Sarabeth. “Don’t tell your mom. And no eating this until after dinner, okay?”
“Okay!” Sarabeth grabbed the small chocolate from Mara’s pale fingers and ran back into the house. “Mom! Aunt ‘Ara brought me candy!”
Mara laughed. Traitor. Goddess, she was going to be sad to leave these kids. No. No morbid thoughts today. The house was warm and smelled like the holiday. Lisa basted the huge turkey, tossing a quick smile at Mara while she wrestled the bird back into the oven. Aunt Lillian sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, mincing some rosemary. To Lil’s left, the table was proudly dressed, filled with china, crystal, and silver. Blaring sounds of football completed the house’s transformation. Adam and Jen watched the Raiders and the Cowboys intently. A touchdown set Adam whopping and Jen falling to her knees in mock surrender.
“Hi, hon.” Lillian set down her knife and embraced her niece. She looked Mara in the eyes. “Not doing well today, are we?”
“No,” Mara whispered in her ear. She didn’t want the others to hear. “It’s kind of hard to muster much of a smile when you know you’re never going to have another Thanksgiving. But I swam this morning. It helped.”
Lillian wrapped an arm around Mara’s shoulders and guided her to one of the stools. “I wish you’d let me bring you to my friend Eleanor down in Cannon Beach. She’s still convinced she can help you.”
“I don’t believe in that stuff, Aunt Lil. Whatever Goddess is up there”—Mara gestured to the ceiling —“she’s given me a good life. I don’t want it to end, but I’m not about to pin false hopes on one of your crystal-wielding friends.”
“Leave her alone, Lil.” Jen handed Mara a glass of wine and scowled at the older woman. Jen was a high school science teacher. Like Adam, a veterinarian, she believed in modern medicine and modern medicine alone. “This is a day to relax and stuff our faces with food. Not browbeat Mara into some hooky backwoods malarkey.”
Mara stifled a laugh. Lillian had grown up in the backwoods of Tennessee, but she was anything but hooky. In fact, Lil was one of the calmest and most rational people Mara knew. That didn’t stop her from grasping at straws where her niece was concerned. Mara hid behind her wine glass while her aunt and her best friend glared at each other.
“I’m not letting her go without a fight,” Lillian spat. She went back to aggressively mincing the rosemary.
Mara and Jen headed into the living room and Mara sank onto the sofa. She missed the wolf. Her fingers itched to stroke his fur. Now that he was clean, he smelled strong and powerful and woodsy. His pelt was soft and sleek where it wasn’t burned. How in the world had he ended up burned? There’d been fires on the island when she’d left. Had he been caught up in them? Some of the burns looked old. He’d been so sad when she’d left. She should have brought him. A bubble of laughter caught in her chest. Yeah, right. Like Aunt Lil and Lisa would accept a wolf in the house. Not with the kids. But he could have hung out in the backyard. She shook her head. Her wolf didn’t seem to like the outdoors much. Every time she let him back inside, he looked practically giddy.
“Mar, what’s on your mind?” Jen linked her arm with Mara’s
.
“I sort of did something stupid,” she admitted.
“The wolf?” At Mara’s surprised expression, Jen jerked her head towards the corner of the room. “Adam told us. It’s really a wolf?”
“Yes. I looked it up online. The fur, the eyes, the cut of his chest—he’s a gray wolf. Most don’t get as big as he is, but all the other signs are there.” Mara took a long sip of wine. The kids raced around the room, ducking between Adam’s legs, giggling.
“Why are you keeping him? You are keeping him, right? I know that look in your eyes.”
“I am. As long as I can. Because he makes me feel better.”
“So you won’t go to Lil’s hippie witch chick, but you’ll depend on a wild animal to heal you?” Jen frowned. “I’m not saying you should go to Oregon, but you can’t put any faith in the wolf either.”
“I’m not. I don’t think he’s healing me. I said he makes me feel better.” Mara set the wine glass down with more force than necessary. “I was hoping you’d understand.”
Jen wrapped her arms around Mara and something threatened to break inside of her. She needed this comfort, especially today. “I don’t have to understand, Mar. I do have to love you. And I do. If you say the wolf makes you feel better, then he does. But I need to try to protect you a little too, okay? You’re not going to start ignoring your treatments, right?”
“No. Believe me. I don’t want to die. Until then, I’m going to do what makes me happy and feel better. Giving the wolf a home does both of those things. I’ll make some sort of arrangements for him if he’s still with me in a couple of weeks. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ran away once he recovers a bit more from whatever happened to him. Though he seems kind of overprotective of me. It’s sweet.”
“You’re talking about him like he’s a person.”
Mara shrugged. “He’s smarter than any other animal I’ve ever met. Probably smarter than Roger ever was.” She’d caught her ex-fiancé in bed with one of her coworkers three years ago. They’d been living on the Olympic Peninsula, in one of the rainiest spots in Washington. She’d thought they’d been happy, though looking back, the signs were all there. His wandering eye, his little digs about her small chest, the smudges on his collar when she rarely wore makeup. She should have seen it sooner. The day she’d walked in on him and Tiffany in her apartment was the day she’d kicked him out and started looking for a job in Seattle. She stifled a snort. He’d have been useless if she’d gotten sick with him still in the picture. He couldn’t even manage to change a light bulb, let alone take care of her.
“Roger was an idiot.”
Mara raised her wine glass. The clink of the toast brought a smile to her lips. “I’ll drink to that.”
By the time the pumpkin pie was sliced and served, Mara’s belly was full but her body felt as empty and drained as the four wine bottles she tossed into the recycling bin. She forced a smile and accepted a cup of coffee from Lisa. Sipping silently, she took in the scene around her. This was her family. She wasn’t biologically related to any of them, not even Aunt Lillian, but they were her family all the same. She loved them so much it hurt. This was the hardest part of dying. Knowing those you cared for would go on without you. Fearing what your death would do, wondering about the ripples you’d leave behind. She hid behind her cup as the tears threatened. She’d accepted her fate, but this dinner was too much.
“What’s troublin’ you, child?” Lillian asked. “I know that look. That’s your serious thinkin’ face. The one you put on when you’re stewin’ about somethin’. So spill it. What’s got my favorite niece lookin’ like the world’s endin’?”
Mara burst into tears, shocking everyone at the table.
“Kids, bedtime. Now,” Lisa said, grabbing Sarabeth’s hand. Annie and Sarabeth protested, but Lisa had them out of the room in less than a minute.
“Mara?” Lillian scooted her chair closer. “Tell us what’s got you all upset.”
“My world is ending,” she whispered. “And I’m too young.”
“You are, child. You are.” Aunt Lil wrapped her arms around Mara and rocked her while Jen got her some tissues. “I’ve been fillin’ in for yer mama for fourteen years and no mama wants to bury their kids. It ain’t right. But yer not dead yet. Don’t go givin’ up on me. On any of us.”
“I don’t have a choice,” she said with a sob. She dragged the tissue over her cheeks with a shaking hand. “It doesn’t matter what I want any more. I’m going to die. Soon. And there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
“Hush now,” Lillian cooed. “You are alive today. You’ll be alive tomorrow. Every day with you is a gift, hon. One we all cherish. Now have another slice of pie and let’s see if we can’t get a smile on that pretty face of yours.”
Mara sniffled quietly and let Adam get her a second slice of pie. She forced a smile, kept it plastered on her aching cheeks for the rest of the evening. She couldn’t wait to get home and curl up with her wolf and cry. He’d let her. He wouldn’t try to cheer her up or give her false hope or force her to pretend everything was going to be okay. Nothing was okay. Nothing at all.
A comforting scent wrapped around him, followed by a warm body. “Hey, Bud,” Mara whispered.
The wolf shook his head. Wrong name. C-c-. . .
“Sorry I was so long.”
He didn’t care. Not now. He sniffed the air. Something was wrong. Mara didn’t smell good. She smelled like sickness, like fire, like the driest desert. In the dim light of her bedroom, he watched her lay her head on the pillow. Her lower lip quivered. The hands that stroked his fur shook. The wolf made an inquisitive sound and nudged her shoulder.
“I’m okay,” she said, but her voice slurred a little and she pulled away from him. “Come on. Let’s get you some dinner.”
Mara wasn’t well. The wolf couldn’t do anything for her but curl up next to her on the couch while she watched television. Whenever she got up, her gait was uneven. Her voice trembled, she cried, and although he couldn’t understand all of the words she said, he knew she was upset. He caught phrases. Going to die, not fair, why me, and scared. He was scared too. He didn’t want to be without Mara.
Once Mara moved to the bedroom, collapsing into bed, the wolf settled next to her. He didn’t know how long he lay there, eyes open in the darkness, protecting the woman who’d protected him. Through a sliver in her curtains, a quarter moon arced towards the horizon. A few minutes before it disappeared, a strange scraping sound came from another area of the house. His pelt prickled.
Something was wrong.
Glass broke in the next room. The window. Danger! The wolf raised his head and growled.
Mara didn’t stir. A floorboard creaked. He growled again. Climbing to his feet, he stood over Mara, eyes fixed on the door. One footstep, two, three, four. Someone was coming. The wolf’s gaze flicked to Mara, who was sleeping peacefully. She was on her side, her arms wrapped around a pillow. Something deep inside the wolf needed to protect her. He didn’t understand it—he didn’t understand much of anything right now, which made his instincts all the more important.
A hulking form filled the doorway. The wolf growled and sprang. His massive front paws landed square on the man’s chest. The intruder spun and the wolf fell onto his side with a yelp. The harsh sound woke Mara. “Bud?” Her voice was weak. When she saw the large man moving towards her, a shrill scream pierced the air. She grabbed the lamp on her bedside table and hurled it at the man. It slammed into his gut and he grunted. But the lamp was small and thin and did little damage. The man lunged at her, catching her off balance and pinning her to the bed by the neck. She gasped for air.
“Stop fighting me, bitch, and I won’t kill you.”
Mara’s knee rammed into his groin. The wolf grabbed the man’s leg, clamping down with his massive jaws. Blood flowed, tangy and sharp. He wrestled with the intruder until the man let go of Mara. She collapsed back against the pillows, gasping. “Get . . . the hell . . . out of my hous
e.”
The wolf released the man’s calf and lunged for his thigh. His canines dug in. The roar of the intruder’s oath grated in the wolf’s ears. A knife appeared in the man’s hand and glinted in the beam of moonlight that slashed through the curtains. He swung downward and narrowly missed the wolf’s shoulder. The wolf reared back. His front leg buckled when he tried to spring again. But Mara had a baseball bat in her hand now and the weapon connected solidly with the intruder’s back. She screamed and hit him a second time. A bone snapped, likely his arm.
“Get out!”
The wolf growled and advanced on the man. He’d kill this intruder for hurting Mara. He didn’t expect the man to turn and run out the bedroom door. More glass tinkled.
Mara’s chest heaved. White-knuckled fingers gripped around the bat. She reached for the phone by her bedside. The wolf barked at her, met her eyes, and raced after the attacker. He’d make the man pay for hurting his Mara.
Anger and fear spurred him on. With a growl, his lithe body sailed out the broken window and into the night. He could scent the man easily. Old beans and stale meat. The wolf’s canines glistened. It had been a long time since he’d tasted fresh blood.
Mara screamed. “Bud!” Alone, rooted to the spot by fear and indecision, she grabbed her phone and dialed 911. The wolf saved her. She had to go after him. Before she could take two steps, the call connected.
“911, what’s your emergency?” The low, masculine voice, soothing and rich, stopped her in her tracks.
“Someone . . . I was . . . he broke in.” Mara still held the bat, the phone tucked against her ear. Her clammy palms squeaked on the wood and the strange melody nearly obscured the emergency operator’s voice for a moment. With a shake of her head, the noise died down, as did her energy level. She sank to the floor with a thud. “What did you say?”
A Shift in the Water Page 7
