Wilder (Birds of a Feather Book 1)

by Lena North

  “But, Wilder, you need to get that I've waited a long time to have this. I won't let it slip through my fingers again.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he didn't give me a chance, which was good since I had no clue what to say. Not until he said it for me.

  “Can we take it slow? One step at a time?”

  “Yeah,” I said again, this time on an exhale, so it sounded almost like a sigh.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I echoed, and added in a soft whisper, “I miss Willy.”

  “Me too,” he muttered. “But, Wilder, Hare was right. You have family here.”

  “Hare?”

  “Brother. You met him in Johns. He was on the mountain with me too,” he explained, but I started laughing.

  “I have an uncle called Hare? He’s named after a huge rabbit?”

  Hawker stared at me and slowly a roguish grin spread across his face. It made him look years younger, and as I smiled back at him, I wondered what my mother had been thinking. How could she have chosen Paolo when she could have had this man?

  “Hare is short for Harold,” Hawker chuckled. “Meet them all tonight.”

  It was a question, but he didn't put it as a one, and I wondered what he meant. And how many “all” would be.

  “I -”

  “Tonight.”

  “I -”

  “You will meet them tonight, Wilder,” he stated calmly.

  “You're very bossy,” I snapped.

  “Yeah,” he agreed.

  “And frustrating,” I added.

  “Pick you up five thirty,” was his only reply.

  Then he got to his feet, swiftly moved the empty plate and our cups to the sink, and turned to me.

  “Rest for a while, Wilder,” he said calmly, turned and walked toward the door.

  “Hawker,” I called out, and he turned. The scowl was back on his face, and it looked like he was bracing for my next words. “See you tonight,” I said quietly.

  When his face softened, I realized that he'd expected me to refuse to meet his family. I held his gaze and raised my chin a little. After a while, his mouth twitched, like he was about to laugh but held it back.

  “Christ, Wilder. It’s gonna be an experience getting to know you,” he murmured. “Five thirty,” he added and walked out the door.

  I sat in the kitchen for a long time, watching the door my father had closed gently behind him.

  Chapter Five

  Everyone

  I called Mickey, but he didn't pick up, so I assumed he was already in the car on his way up the mountain. Without my cell phone, I couldn't check where he was, which was frustrating because I really wanted to talk to someone about my morning with Hawker. I had other friends, of course, but none as close as Mickey and I’d pulled away from them when Willy died. I knew they worried, and that I probably should get in touch with them, but I didn’t know what to think about this newfound father of mine and had no clue how to explain about him.

  In the end, I just left a message for Mickey, telling him that I’d be away in the evening and that he should come looking for me if he didn't get to Norton too late. I hoped that he’d arrive in time, to back me up. The unspecified number of family members that I would meet felt a bit daunting, and I wondered what they'd think about me. And what I would think about them.

  Then I hobbled around in the house, full of nervous energy. After a while, my foot hurt, and I got back to the couch but I was too wired to sleep, so I picked up the story I’d started to read the night before. I wondered if Gramps had written it, which seemed unlikely, but not impossible. When I was little, Willy had always told the best bedtime stories, about heroes and princesses, dragons and other magical creatures. The tone in the papers sounded a lot like his stories, and some of it was also remarkably close to what he used to tell me. He'd had a way of making it all seem so real, and I’d loved our evenings together. Though, the first part I'd read had been told by a girl called Vilda, and it didn’t seem like something an older man would be able to construct, not even my Gramps. Then the adventures had continued, but told by Vilda’s friend Susannah, and she sounded even less like Willy. The stories were simple but had an arresting quality to them that drew me in, and I found it difficult to put the papers down, even when dusk started to settle outside my little house. I raced through the pages, following Susannah from the village of Dragoncourt and through her adventures in the enemy’s stronghold, Pantano. When the story reached its end, and I realized that another part started up, told by the third friend, Troy, I reluctantly put the pile of papers back in their box. I had to get ready for my family dinner, though by then I hoped it would be a quick meet and greet so I could get back to my couch and my papers.

  I had hoped that I would be able to ask Hawker some questions in the car on our way to wherever the meeting was supposed to be held. These hopes were crushed when I heard the roar of pipes coming up the short gravel road that led to my front porch. My eyebrows went up, and I barked out startled laughter. Was he picking me up on his bike? With snow on the ground and me with my cast and a cane? Hawker was certainly not like any other man I’d ever met.

  “Hey,” he murmured when I walked through the front door.

  “Bike?” I asked.

  “Well, yeah,” he replied like my question was borderline stupid, and it was of course, with him sitting there, clearly on a motorcycle.

  “Okay,” I said, hobbled over and since I’d been riding bikes since I was old enough to nag Gramps into letting me fix up my own together with Mickey and Uncle Andy, I got up behind him, leaned the cane along the side of the bike, and settled in.

  When we turned and roared down the road, a thought struck me. Uncle Andy had always been ridiculously fond of his motorcycles, and he and Aunt Gwen had been to various biker gatherings a couple of times each year. Hawker had called him Rider, so maybe that’s how they’d become friends. Had they met over the years? The thought of them sneaking around behind my back stung, so I pushed it away.

  We drove along the main road, away from Norton but after just a short ride the road ended, right in front of a huge stone house. My eyes widened, and I looked around to see if I'd missed how we turned off somehow but we hadn't. The road continued up to the house, and that was it. How cool, I thought. The main road through the mountains and up to Norton was just one long driveway to this house. As I looked, I realized that it was actually several buildings. Two big houses flanked what seemed to be the main one, and there were a few smaller cabins, scattered on the hillside. Then I straightened because I realized that we'd just gone around the area and my little house was visible through the trees.

  “Seems we're neighbors,” I said.

  “Seems so,” Hawker replied but didn't elaborate.

  Getting off the bike gracefully wasn't possible, but I managed, and when Hawker tried to help me I frowned at him. He scowled back at me and moved up the steps toward the large wooden doors.

  “Hawker,” I called out.

  I hadn't moved from the bike when he turned to me, looking impatient.

  “I'm not going inside unless you give me at least a little warning on who's there.”

  “Shit. I should have told you,” he rumbled. “Didn't think,” he added as he walked down the steps again. “I'm not used to having a daughter, Wilder. I'm also proud of who you are, so I wanted to get in there and show you off to the family, but I should have told you,” he repeated, and his face looked hard, but I'd started to get to know the man, so it didn't scare me.

  When the silence stretched out, I pushed, “Still not telling me?”

  He grinned, and I thought again that my mother must have been mad to go for Paolo instead of this man.

  “Right. This is my father's house, and he will be there. I have two brothers, and they'll be there too. My youngest brother's wife will be there, although she’s a pain in everyone’s ass, so we’ll stay clear of her. They also have kids, exp
ect them to be there.” He paused and added slowly, “I have friends, and we're tight. Some of them will be there too.”

  “Okay,” I whispered, thinking that this seemed like a crowd I could handle.

  “Okay,” he echoed, and our eyes held for a while.

  Then I nodded, and we moved up the steps at the same time as the doors were swung wide open.

  “What in the hell is taking so long, son? Get in here, and take the girl with you,” a deep voice boomed loudly.

  A flash of something I couldn’t identify passed over Hawker’s face, and then he looked at me with an oddly pleading look.

  “You’re gonna have to cut the old man a lot of slack tonight, Wilder. I hope you can find it in you to do that,” he murmured.

  Then we turned toward the huge man standing in the open door, staring at me.

  “Shit,” he murmured hoarsely.

  “Um, what?” I asked, thinking that this was an odd greeting.

  The man didn’t answer. He just kept staring at me, and I wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light coming from inside the house but it looked like his eyes were getting shiny.

  “Noticed that you look like me?” Hawker murmured in reply to my question.

  I looked at him with my eyebrows raised, and he got the message that I had indeed noticed this.

  “Yeah, well I look like my ma, except she had white hair,” he said in the way of explanation.

  Oh.

  “Spitting image,” the old man whispered, swallowed and with an effort he pulled himself together. “Sorry, girl. Seen pictures, but seeing you…” He swallowed again. “Spitting image,” he finished.

  “Her name is Wilder, Da. You know that,” Hawker said irritably.

  “Hey,” I said inanely and stretched out a hand.

  “Hello, Wilder,” he replied, and the strength returned to his voice again. “I’m your grandfather,” he added.

  Oh no.

  “All due respect, Sir, but you’re not,” I said calmly.

  The air around us seemed to still, and I heard an owl shriek in the silence. The sound seemed ominous, like a warning.

  “Willy was my grandfather,” I clarified. “You are the father of the man who fathered me. I just met you, and I met him,” I indicated Hawker, “just a few days ago. So, no. You are not my grandfather, not when it’s less than two weeks since I lost the man who was.”

  The old man’s eyes narrowed, but I held his gaze, hoping that he could understand that I was in no way ready for what he was asking for. Finally, his face softened.

  “Spitting image,” he murmured, and added, “I’m sorry about Willy, he was a good man.”

  “He was,” I said.

  “I’m Gilmore,” he said and grabbed my hand to drag me into the house.

  We walked through an open hallway and into a large living room. When we entered, everyone froze, and so did I. Gilmore continued into the room, but Hawker stayed behind me. Then one of the men came toward us, and I recognized him as the man who had stood by my father’s side in the bar when I first met him.

  “Hello again, Wilder,” he said with a wide grin. “I’m the uncle that isn’t Andy.”

  “What?” I asked.

  I had no clue what the man meant, but it felt as if I should know and I tried to remember, but my mind was blank. Hawker made a quiet rumbling noise, but the man right in front of me didn’t seem intimidated.

  “Never mind,” he chuckled. “I’m Harold,” he added.

  “Harold,” I echoed, and nodded slightly in greeting.

  “No, Harold,” he said, and I blinked.

  “Harold?” I asked.

  “Harold,” he repeated.

  I sensed that he was somehow making a joke on my behalf and I did not like it at all.

  “Oh, you’re Bunny!” I exclaimed with glee that was totally fake in the beginning but turned real when I saw his face darken.

  “What?” he asked, not sounding happy at all anymore.

  “Hawker told me about you. You’re my uncle Bunny,” I replied.

  Hawker made a choked sound that I sincerely hoped was laughter.

  “Hare, Wilder. I told you about your uncle Hare,” he murmured in a strained voice.

  I turned to him, and the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. Since I had my back toward the gathering, I twitched my eyes slightly in a small wink and watched how his lips tightened with held back laughter.

  “Oh, you’re right,” I said innocently and turned back to my uncle. “I’m so sorry. Guess I got it all mixed up. But a hare is just a very big bunny, isn’t it?”

  I put my head slightly to the side and blinked a few times. There were muted chuckles all around me and then Hare’s face softened.

  I thought he’d say something else, but he was pushed to the side by a young boy who came running through the room, screaming loudly. The boy kept running, and he slammed into me, so I took a side step. Unfortunately, this made me lean a bit too much on my cast, and I grunted. Hawker immediately moved, but I was quicker. I grabbed the boy by the scruff and yanked him toward me. His eyes met mine, and I knew immediately that he was well aware of what he’d done, and had probably done it deliberately.

  I rapped the cane against my cast and asked, “Do you know what this is?”

  “Yes,” he replied sulkily.

  “Running into someone who has a cast on their foot, knowing well why they have this cast makes me think you’re an idiot. Unless you have some words to say to me?”

  I put the last as a question and waited for the boy to answer. It took him a while.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, finally.

  I wasn’t sure he meant it, but at least he’d said it.

  “Apology accepted,” I replied, and I wasn’t sure I meant it either. “Now go away.”

  I dismissed the boy with a small push and turned to the room. A couple was standing straight in front of me and when I saw the man I almost laughed. He looked exactly like my father… except he didn’t. He was slightly shorter, a little bit thinner, and his features were the same, but softer as if someone had blurred out the edges. His hair was long and cut in the same style as Hawker's. It wasn’t black, though, it was a dull brown, and his eyes weren’t yellow, they were also brown. He looked like a faded, washed out copy of my father.

  “You must be another uncle,” I said.

  “Yes, I’m Magnus. Sorry about my boy, he –”

  “No need to apologize, the boy did that for himself,” I interrupted.

  “He’s very young,” the woman said, which was an apology in a way but it was clear she didn’t mean it as one.

  She looked like she had been pretty once, but she wasn’t anymore. Her long, black hair was gorgeous, and her big eyes had an unusual brownish color that shifted toward green, but she looked hard. She wasn’t old in any way, but there were already deep wrinkles between her brows and the tips of her mouth slanted downward. The air around her vibrated with dissatisfaction, and I wondered if it was because I’d scolded her brat or if it was a permanent state.

  “Huh,” I mumbled, not wanting to go into an argument, but silently I thought she was silly. The boy must be six or seven years old so he should know better.

  “I’m your cousin,” a voice interrupted.

  I turned, toward the voice and a huge smile formed on my face.

  “Hey there, little cousin,” I said. Then I couldn’t hold back laughter. “Wow, but you look just like me,” I exclaimed, and after a closer look I added, “A prettier version of me, I think. You didn’t get the weirdo-eyes.”

  “I –”

  “Althea. Go and play with your brother,” the woman interrupted.

  The girl immediately walked away, shoulders slumping, but just slightly, and I noticed with satisfaction that her back was straight as a rod.

  “But I would have liked to get to know my cousin,” I said sweetly, and then I couldn’t help myself. “It�
�s good for the younger generation to bond, don’t you think? Makes it easier when we grow into adulthood,” I added.

  I knew this was a nasty comment. I was already more or less an adult, and the woman wasn’t that much older than me, but she rubbed me the wrong way for reasons I could not explain. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, and it made her look quite silly, but I kept my laughter in check and watched her silently.

  “You are just like your mother,” she snapped.

  “Murielle,” Hawker rumbled immediately, slowly and menacingly.

  The woman glared at him, then at me, but finally, she turned around and walked away. I chuckled silently because the thought of my mother insulting anyone was hilarious and my aunt-in-law had looked so silly walking away all in a huff.

  “I’m sorry –” Magnus started, but that set me off into laughter, and I cut his apology off.

  “Jeez, uncle Magnus, stop apologizing for everything. Grow a pair, why don’t ya,” I said cheekily and with a grin.

  I meant it as a joke, but I could have kicked myself because I could see immediately that he didn’t take it as one.

  “Wilder, perhaps you need to grab something to eat,” Hawker said, and that clearly wasn’t a question. “Let’s go,” he added, grabbed my arm and moved us over to a table to the side where there were trays full of various kinds of food.

  “So far, Wilder…” Gilmore suddenly murmured at my side, “you’ve informed me that I’m not your grandfather, told one uncle that he is a big bunny and the other that he has no balls. You also shared with your aunt that she’s old and that her son is an idiot.”

  He speared me with a look, and I realized that I had indeed done all of that.

  “Um,” I mumbled.

  Then both Hawker and his father started laughing. Loudly.

  “Guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” a voice murmured behind me.

  I turned and almost dropped my plate. Three men stood behind me, next to each other and so close to me that I had to tilt my head back to look at them. Two of them had to be brothers, and the third was my uncle, Hare.