“We both grew up in the wrong place, not fitting in the way our parents thought we should. You wanted fine crystal. I wanted jelly glasses. You wanted to live in a high rise with a wall of windows. I wanted a front porch with mismatched rockers. You took care of it better, though. You had the guts to stand up for what you wanted and your father let you go. He may not have understood it, but he let you go. My mother wouldn’t let go and I never had your kind of courage. I’m a thirty-two year old runaway.” She poured a little more in both their glasses. One more sip and she was switching back to tea. This time, she toasted him.
“I’ll bet he’d be proud to know you started your own pack. That can’t be easy and being the Alpha here, he’d understand that better than most. Of course, if he was anything like my mother, he’d never admit it or if he did, he’d take the credit for it.” She saw the corner of his mouth quirk just like Marshall’s did and knew she scored a point. “Now, are you going to tell me why you’re so angry with Marshall for getting stuck in a place you never wanted, to take care of people you never liked, in a position you already hold, in a place you like better, with people who are more like you?”
Charles thought about it for a minute and burst out laughing. “Could you repeat the question?”
“No I can’t, but you know what I mean.” She put the lid on Ruby’s jar and screwed the lid on tight. “Ice tea for both of us from here on out. Now tell.”
“Nothing to tell. Two years after I graduated college, the Alpha had a series of strokes. Marshall, as his second, protected the old man’s holdings and fought off two attempts to take his position.”
Elizabeth held up her hand. “Stop. What does that mean, two attempts to take the position?”
“Any male has the right to challenge for the position of Alpha.”
“And?” Elizabeth rolled her hand to signal she wanted more. She wasn’t going to let him evade the question.
“It’s a fight to the death,” he said bluntly.
It was barbaric and Marshall was only twenty-one year’s old! She was grateful for her mother’s lessons in keeping one’s emotions to oneself, but she wished she hadn’t capped Ruby’s jar.
“Where were you and your brother when all this was going on?” She was relieved that her voice sounded even and uncommitted. She was tipsy, but not drunk and she was determined to see this to the end.
“We decided early on that Mikey should stay out of it. He’d already met Delia and we all knew he wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t his fight. I called, but Marshall said he had it handled, so I kept doing what I do best.”
“How many times did you visit, Charles?”
“Marshall said it was all good.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down the way she did little boys she caught looking for ‘dirty’ pictures in the section on Ancient Greece.
“I came home for the reading of the will… and the naming of the Alpha.”
She nodded. “When was the will written?”
“Right after his first stroke and before you ask, the one before left everything to my mother to be distributed as she saw fit.”
“And who was named the Alpha then?”
“No one. We were boys when that was written. Rusty Cramer was his second back then, but he was older than the Alpha and never would have held the position. The Alpha’s second isn’t necessarily in line for the position. It’s someone the Alpha trusts beyond all others.”
“And your father trusted Marshall more than you.”
“Yes, dammit! I was his first born and it should have gone to me.”
The anger was back, but she saw it for what it was. It was a boy’s anger at a father who didn’t see his worth. Elizabeth could argue that the boy had evaded his responsibility. He hadn’t come home when he was needed, but that argument had probably been made before and somewhere inside him, Charles knew it was true. But this wasn’t about acts. It was about feelings. She reached out her hand to comfort him and then pulled it back. Her sympathy wouldn’t make it better. And she was afraid to touch him.
“Don’t blame Marshall because your father was an ass,” she said quietly. A tear spilled over and another followed. She didn’t try to hide it. “Your brother’s a good man. He loves this place and the people who live here. You and Mikey left to build the lives you dreamed of. You had a right to do that, but did either of you ever ask Marshall about his dreams?” By the way he refused to look at her she knew the answer. There was one reason and one reason only that Marshall had become the Alpha. “He stayed.”
They sat in silence watching the sun lower behind the trees.
“One last question, if I may?”
“Go ahead. Finish it.” The man’s easy charm was gone. He sounded tired.
“Why didn’t you challenge for the Alpha?” She knew the answer before he gave it.
“He’s my brother, damn you.”
He was off the porch and running for the back of the house so she didn’t know if he heard her.
“He still is, Charles. He still is.”
Chapter 21
She might have spent the night sleeping in the rocker with a blanket wrapped around her and her knees pulled up to her chest, if Marshall hadn’t woken her with his yelling. She wrapped her arms around her head to keep it from exploding.
“Don’t yell at me. Please, please,” she begged.
“Godammit, woman. Your car’s in the yard. Your doors are unlocked. Your keys and pocketbook are on the counter and you don’t answer when I call! I thought something happened to you. That it wasn’t over.”
“Sorry, Mom. Could you send me to my room now? At least it’s quiet in there.” She tried to unroll the ball she’d folded her body into. “Marshall? Marshall? My legs won’t move.” She’d read stories about white lightning causing blindness and even death. She opened her eyes, saw only darkness and then remembered it was nighttime.
“You’re drunk,” he said.
“Tipsy,” she muttered. “I was fine until I went in to get my blanket and then the world started to spin. I barely made it back to my rocker.”
“Why didn’t you go to bed?”
She had to think about it. “Because the blanket was for my rocker?” She frowned. “Is this a trick question?”
“No. It’s proof that you’re a few sips beyond tipsy.” He was laughing at her. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“I can’t move my legs.”
“I’ll move them for you, babe.”
He picked her up and carried her into the house. She snuggled into his arms and purred her contentment. It was nice being curled up next to his chest and everywhere he touched her sent a pleasurable tingle to her core. Which reminded her of Charles. Not nearly as strong, but pleasant nonetheless. She giggled.
“Why haven’t you told me about Charles and Mikey?”
If he hadn’t been holding her, she might not have noticed the slight tensing of his body. She wiggled in closer to try to get the snuggly feeling back.
“I haven’t gotten around to it. Why?”
“Charles has come around a few times. I think I like him. Did you know he’s the Alpha of a pack in Cincinnati? Isn’t that nice?”
Marshall laid her on the bed and drew the covers over her. “Did he…? Did you…?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “He’s the reason I’m tipsy.” She wanted to tell him about their talk, tell him that he shouldn’t be so angry with Charles, but she was so tired and her mind was foggy and the headache eased when she closed her eyes. She could explain it all in the morning.
But in the morning, Marshall wasn’t there. The left side of the bed was still neatly made and by the stiffness of her joints, she hadn’t moved much in her sleep. She was groggy and a slight headache pounded at the back of her head. She’d been warned about Ruby’s brew and now she knew why.
Elizabeth padded to the kitchen in search of coffee and aspirin and frowned at the gloomy skies and rain. It would have been an ideal morni
ng to snuggle in bed. She hoped Marshall was as disappointed as she was.
He’d certainly been a little miffed last night. She’d had too much to drink, but she wasn’t so far gone not to remember the look on his face when he put her to bed. He’d laughed when he found her sitting out on the porch so it wasn’t the drinking that upset him and he hadn’t shown any signs of jealousy before, not even when he thought she was interested in Henry. No, his anger was triggered because this man was his brother.
There were hard feelings between them. That was clear from what Charles said and that being the case, Marshall would not be happy to know that his brother was talking to her and not to him. She also had to wonder if both being Alphas would add more friction. Wolves were territorial and from what little she’d gathered, these wolvers were, too. She’d have to ask him about it later when they talked. There was so much she didn’t know, so much to learn.
With coffee mug in hand, she went back to the bedroom to lay out her clothes for the day. A pair of jeans topped with a plain white silk shell and a navy blue blazer should do the trick. Maggie had given her a few names and directions and she was ready to begin work. She didn’t want the people she was interviewing to see her as one of those University people Maggie had described, but she did want to look neat and tidy and respectful.
But before she made her first call, she was going to stop in town and see Marshall. The more she thought about it, the more she felt the need to clear the air. Maybe it was new lover’s jitters, or maybe it was her own guilt over how she felt when Charles touched her, nevertheless, the sooner she spoke to Marshall, the better she’d feel.
But it was not to be. When she drove through town, there were two county cruisers and a black sedan with state plates and a bubble light on the dash parked out front of Town Hall. Marshall was busy with what looked like more than routine business. She wondered if it had anything to do with the growers Maggie had told her about.
A few people waved as she passed by and she waved back smiling to herself about word being out that George had found a home for his unwanted baby truck. If it made her more recognizable, so be it. She liked being waved to and waving back. Someday she might even have the nerve to toot her horn. Her mother would be appalled.
She had reason to thank her mother later and she promised she would do it in her next email. Maggie said it was best not to call and make an appointment, but it was difficult to knock on a stranger’s door, introduce yourself and explain why you were there. With her mother’s training, she accomplished it smiling and looking relaxed even though she felt like she was going to wet her pants. She needn’t have worried.
The door was opened by a smiling woman of about seventy who already knew who she was and what she wanted. If her first call was any indication of what the rest would be like, she wouldn’t suffer for lack of material and she would enjoy collecting every bit of it.
Mamie Jacobs was ninety-seven years old and looked every day of it. Her skin was papery thin and her pink scalp almost glowed through the sparse white curls. Her hands looked over large for her frail, thin body. The knuckles were twisted and gnarled with arthritis. But the woman was bright and alert.
“I still got every wit I was borned with,” she informed Elizabeth after introductions were made, “And I even put my good teeth in so’s to prove it to ye when I spoke.”
She had stories to tell of people she knew and things she’d seen and after a particularly hilarious tale of a disastrous wedding day “that weren’t but an omen of thangs to come”; Elizabeth could only hope that her own laughter hadn’t drowned out the old woman’s words on the recorder.
She could have spent the whole day listening to Mamie, but made her excuses when she saw the woman was tiring and asked if she could come again. Mamie was all smiles and so was the daughter-in-law who’d disappeared into the kitchen two minutes after Elizabeth arrived to fix them lunch. Sandwiches were served an hour later and the woman had disappeared again.
“You come back anytime,” the daughter-in-law said. She walked Elizabeth out to the truck. “Ma truly does love to tell a tale and it sure is nice for her to have someone new to tell them to. She’s only got me and Harold.”
Elizabeth heard the weariness in the woman’s voice. “Maybe next time,” she suggested tentatively, “I could visit with Mamie while you ran some errands or visited with friends.”
The woman, no youngster herself, smiled broadly. “Maggie said you were a good one. I’d be grateful for the break.”
“Small sacrifices,” Elizabeth whispered to herself as she pulled out onto the road. That woman’s smile made her feel better than she ever had writing a check to one of her mother’s charities.
It was well into the afternoon and the younger Mrs. Jacobs had given her direction to the nearest shopping center which was only fifteen minutes away. She shopped the rest of the afternoon away, though she purchased only a few small items for the cabin.
She was feeling quite pleased with her day’s success and decided to treat herself to a decent supper. Not that the food at the Dizzy Dish wasn’t good. It was, but she did miss the ambiance of a more upscale establishment and she was tired of the soup and sandwich she usually fixed herself at the Home Place.
She smiled at her use of the words. It was true. That three room cabin had become more of a home to her than any other place she’d lived, including her apartment which was decorated more to Mother’s taste than hers. It certainly wasn’t the décor that made the tiny house home. There wasn’t any. It had to be the people who visited there.
She scouted the area, which wasn’t all that big, and found what she was looking for. The restaurant was part of a chain, but they kept the lights dim, the music low and served something other than burgers and fries.
She pulled into the lot and almost pulled back out again. There was a silver Mercedes like the one she’d seen last night with Ohio plates and a discreet Cincinnati dealership emblem next to the taillight. It had to be Charles.
She glanced up and there he was, watching her from where he sat by the window. Leaving now would look like she was avoiding him, but that was exactly what she wanted to do until she spoke to Marshall. Charles wasn’t alone and that was what made her decide to park and go in. There would be no awkward moment should he ask her to share his table. If he was dining with others, he wouldn’t ask and if he did, she could politely decline.
He no longer made her uncomfortable now that she knew she could control the feelings he invoked, but she still felt it would be inappropriate for her to have any contact with him until she talked to Marshall. She had, after all, heard only Charles’ version of the story. She should give Marshall the same courtesy of listening to him before she formed an opinion or drew her own conclusions.
The place wasn’t busy, yet the hostess took her time coming to the podium to seat a party of one. Elizabeth could feel the eyes of Charles’ guest boring into her, but she was her mother’s daughter and her face only showed a mild impatience with the hostess and no discomfort at all for the intense inspection.
“Table for one?” the young woman asked. Her smile was wide and professional, but her voice held a hint of ‘poor thing’ in it.
Elizabeth was used to it. There were certain types of women who always looked at unescorted women with a kind of pity. Normally, she would have nodded and smiled in agreement, but not today; not when she was being observed and judged by Charles’ companion.
“Apparently,” she said looking the girl up and down with a look that said she wasn’t impressed by what she saw. “One of those tables over there, please.” She nodded in the direction she wanted to go, as far from Charles as she could get without appearing to be hiding. Besides, she was curious to observe who he was with. Nosiness was another flaw her mother had been unable to quell.
The hostess flounced ahead, but Elizabeth refused to scurry to keep up. Charles had his back to her. She saw him turn his head and smile as she approached. With a regal nod of her head and low
ered eyes, she recognized his greeting and hoped that would be the end of it. Unfortunately, Charles had other ideas.
“Elizabeth! Of all the places to meet you. Come say hello.”
Charles was sitting with three other men, all in dark, western cut suits and string ties. The two men next to the windows appeared to keep their eyes down, but Elizabeth was sure they missed nothing. They were big and broad and while they never moved, they broadcast menace.
Elizabeth had no choice but to stop. “Charles,” she said, neither friendly nor unfriendly. She looked up into the eyes of his companion. If she’d still been walking, she would have stumbled. His eyes were green, almost electric, and she knew she’d seen them before. Something rolled over in the pit of her stomach.
“What brings you here?” Charles seemed happy to see her. “The fare in Rabbit Hollow finally get to you? Meatloaf and mashed potatoes do lose their allure after a while.”
She laughed lightly because the comment called for it. “I rather like meatloaf. Sally Ann said she’d give me the recipe, though I think hers makes twenty-five servings. Actually, I was out running some errands and thought I’d stop in for a salad. I do miss salad.” Wolvers weren’t big on anything green.
“I’ve been known to eat a salad or two,” he laughed, playfully defensive. “Christmas, Easter.”
Charles’ companion hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she’d entered the restaurant. He hadn’t said a word, either, until now.
“I wouldn’t mind being introduced to the little lady.” He smiled and there was something feral in it. Elizabeth immediately knew he was a wolver. When he held out his hand, she had no choice but to take it.
Her stomach lurched and she was grateful lunch was hours in the past.
Chapter 22
Elizabeth was vaguely aware that Charles was apologizing and making the introductions, though the words didn’t register in her reeling brain. The sexual surge coursing through her was almost as strong as Marshall’s, certainly stronger than anything she’d felt from Charles. There was no interest, however, no curiosity on her part. Only revulsion. She felt as if she were being physically molested by some half rotted corpse.
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