Wolves, Witches and Bears...Oh My!

by Nicky Charles

  On his way to get the mop, he looked at the sports prints Jenna had purchased. They were worse for wear having been knocked off the wall in several scuffles over the past few months. In fact, he suspected arguments over the teams in each print had been the source of the disagreements on more than a few occasions. Well, she’d said they would spark conversation!

  Thoughts of Jenna had him frowning. Naturally, she’d been curious, asking the others why he’d disappeared without notice back in February but hadn’t complained or scolded as he’d expected. Instead, she’d purportedly told Bryan she’d put in extra hours if need be to help out during his absence. And when he’d returned, there’d been no awkward questions. He liked that she accepted him as he was; Lucy had been like that, too. And both were hard workers...

  They aren’t the same, his bear pointed out.

  No, definitely not the same. Jenna was happy to be here whereas Lucy was not. Maybe now that it was spring he’d feel more interest in the idea of his relationship with Jenna progressing.

  Or maybe not, his bear muttered.

  We’ll discuss this later, he told the animal and he went to fill a bucket with water.

  Later will not change anything.

  He’d like to deny the truth of that statement but couldn’t. The bear was well-rested and ready for a debate in a way it hadn’t been during the dark winter months.

  She is not for us and letting her believe so is not honourable.

  The words stung. Honour was important. In his defence, he hadn’t considered his relationship with Jenna from that point of view. He dipped his brush in the bucket and began to scrub the floor on his hands and knees.

  You are thinking of yourself. Trying to fill the void in our life.

  True. He twisted his lips and shook his head. It was better to be alone than to use someone and eventually cause them pain. Jenna might be encouraging him, receptive to his advances if he ever made them, but it wasn’t fair to give her the leftover pieces of his heart. She was recovering from a bad breakup, vulnerable, and he was using her.

  It is decided then. We let this woman go and focus on getting our real mate back.

  That plan was only half right. They would not be trying to get Lucy back. She’d already decided what she wanted in life and it wasn’t them.

  But there is going to be a cub!

  The knowledge was a source of pain. How he longed to have Lucy near, to see her form growing lush, to place his hand on the swell of her belly and feel the fluttering movement, to whisper words of love to the unborn cub so it would know his voice. And Lucy herself, he wanted to comfort her, ensure her everything would be fine, to help prepare a baby room, to share his strength when she birthed.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat and concentrated on the floor, scrubbing hard at the marks left by numerous booted feet.

  His inner animal was silent, perhaps trying to think of an argument to use that would have him chasing after Lucy and dragging her back here. There wasn’t one though. Of that he was determined.

  Standing straight, he surveyed his work. The floor looked good, the faint scent of bleach filling the room as if announcing to the world it had been thoroughly cleaned. About to go dump the bucket, his phone made a tone signalling he had a text message. A glance at it made his heart lurch.

  It was Lucy.

  The bucket slipped from his fingers, the water slopping over the edges unnoticed, soaking the leg of his pants and creating a puddle on the floor. He didn’t care. His entire attention was centred on his phone.

  A jumble of letters was floating before his eyes, the words indecipherable. He took a deep breath and blinked, forcing himself to focus on the message.

  ‘Just thought you should know.’

  It was followed by an image of a newborn wrapped in a blue blanket.

  A son.

  He had a son.

  His knees felt weak and he sank onto a bar stool, his eyes fixed on the screen. The image mesmerized him and he reached out to touch it, to enlarge the picture and study every feature. Dark curly hair like his. Big blue eyes like Lucy. A snub of a nose and pursed lips. He could see the tips of its fingers, so tiny and yet complete with nails.

  Tears were dripping down his cheeks and he dashed them away, swallowing hard. Lucy would be waiting for a reply but his mind was blank.

  All the things he wanted to say would not be well received. There were no recriminations in his heart, at this moment all was forgiven and the words ‘I love you’ and ‘I will be there as fast as possible’ hovered on his lips yet would have to be left unsaid. ‘How are you?’ Was that acceptable?

  His thumbs skimmed over the keypad composing messages only to delete them before he decided on one. “Thank you for telling me. Let me know if you need anything. I will live up to my responsibilities.”

  He pressed send only to immediately regret its formality. As fast as possible he added two other sentences.

  “I hope you are both well. What is the child’s name?” He waited for a reply, his muscles oddly tense. Seconds ticked by. Had he offended her? Finally, a word appeared on his screen.

  “Caleb.”

  His lips formed the word, liking the sound of it. It was a good name, strong and sturdy just as his son would be. About to reply, his phone went dead. He stared at it in shock then cursed himself for not having charged it that morning. The timing could not have been worse. After months of silence, she had finally reached out to him and now carelessness on his part could ruin everything.

  He hurried to find the charger that was in his office, trying to calculate how long it would take before he could start it again and send another message. What would Lucy be thinking when he didn’t reply?

  “Good morning, Armand! I thought I’d stop by and show you the posters for Daniel’s band.” Jenna entered through the front door as he disappeared down the hall that led to the back. “What’s the rush?”

  “I need to charge my phone. I was in the middle of a conversation when the battery died.”

  “Oh, I hate when that happens.” She draped her coat on the bar and followed him down the hall. “You could use mine if you want.”

  He found the charger on his desk and plugged in his phone while considering her offer. How would it look if he messaged Lucy from another woman’s phone? It would be too awkward to explain without the danger of serious misunderstanding. And did he want his private messages to Lucy showing in Jenna’s message history?

  “Thank you but I’ll wait. It shouldn’t take long.” He glanced at the old black phone on his desk. He could use the landline, however it hadn’t escaped his notice that Lucy hadn’t actually called. She was maintaining a distance between them. In fact, had her text been more of a sense of obligation, than an actual reaching out? Was he reading more into it than he should?

  “Armand?”

  He gave a start having forgotten Jenna was there.

  “Are you okay? Is something wrong?” She glanced towards his phone. “Bad news?”

  “Yes. No…” He scrubbed his hands over his face and then finger combed his hair back. It had come loose from its tie at some point during his cleaning spree. “Jenna, we need to talk.”

  “I completely agree.” She looked around the room and shook her head. “This room is a dingy disaster. How do you even see to work with this lighting? And how old is that sofa?”

  He glanced at the piece of furniture. The leather was worn, the wooden arms scarred. “No idea. It was here when I bought the bar.”

  “That I can easily believe. It really needs to go. And look at the paint and the stained ceiling tiles.”

  The state of his office was deplorable, however he rarely used it and, at the moment, it was nowhere near the top of his priority list. “It needs some attention but that’s not what we need to discuss.”

  “Then what?”

  “Viens. Come, let us talk elsewhere.” He gestured towards the door.

  Back in Chicago…

  “What did he say
?” Lucy tore her gaze from the baby snuggled to her breast. Less than a day old and he’d already become the centre of her universe.

  “No reply yet.” Roxi checked the phone on the bedside table again. “Thanks for letting me send that picture. It was driving me crazy not sharing the news.”

  “I know.” She smiled at her roommate before her eyes drifted to the baby once again. Telling Armand had seemed the most natural thing in the world to do, her hurt over his silence outshone by the joy of the baby’s birth. She wanted to share Caleb’s existence with the entire world; already she was sure he was the most beautiful baby ever born. And the way he grabbed her finger, well, the books might say it was an instinctual grasp but she was positive it indicated how clever and coordinated he was going to be.

  She pressed a kiss to his downy soft head and whispered softly. “Momma might be a bit prejudiced, of course, but you are the most perfect baby ever born.”

  “Is there anyone else I can contact while we wait for Armand to message back?” Roxi appeared even more energized than ever, bouncing on her toes, her eyes sparkling. She’d been amazing, staying throughout the labour and birth, not freaking even once despite the fact she’d said she would.

  “Um, sure. Tell Ashton and have him share the news with everyone at work.”

  Roxi already had the phone in hand before she’d finished speaking. “Okay. Want me to check your contacts for other people? There’s Neil…”

  She rolled her eyes. It was a good thing there was nothing private on her phone; Roxi seemed to be making herself at home on the device. Of course, after giving birth in front of someone, it did seem that all barriers had been crossed!

  A yawn cracked her face and she realized she’d have to let go of Caleb before she fell asleep. At least the baby’s bed was in the room with her. She buzzed the nurse who soon bustled in and helped her get him settled.

  “I’m going to head home and get some rest too. Call me if you need anything.” Roxi set the phone on the table within reach and left with a wave.

  Tired, she relaxed into the bed. A smile drifted over her face as she listened to the soft sounds Caleb made.

  Caleb St. John. Had Armand liked the name? He’d not replied back. She reached out and grabbed her phone, scrolling back so she could see the conversation Roxi had read to her.

  Her brows knit together as she scanned the text. His first reply seemed cooler than what Roxi had indicated. ‘Living up to his responsibilities’ didn’t sound like a man who was overjoyed at the birth of his son. It would seem Roxi had embellished things a bit.

  What else had Armand said? She scrolled down a bit more. ‘I hope you are both well. What is the child’s name?’

  Okay that was pretty close to what Roxi had related. And it did show mild interest on his part. Except there was no reply yet as to whether or not he approved of the name.

  She slowly set the phone down on her stomach, wondering what his silence meant. Did he not like the name? Or had he been making polite conversation but really didn’t care?

  The second possibility was a knife to her heart.

  Armand couldn’t be that cold. Or could he?

  He hadn’t made any attempt to contact her over the past few months. His silence had sat like a knot in her stomach. How many times had she wished she could talk to him, share the wonder of pregnancy, the joy of seeing the baby on the ultrasound monitor.

  In the past, his presence had always seemed to ground her, giving her a sense of security in knowing no matter what happened, he’d be there to help.

  Instead, during one of the biggest events of her life, she’d been without him. Of her own choosing in a way—she had let him leave and encouraged him to find someone else—but for some reason she’d been sure he’d call once he knew she was pregnant. Maybe she should have picked up the phone first.

  Maybe he was tired of playing second fiddle.

  Her wants, her needs… Had she taken him for granted? Not tried to see his side? Just assumed he’d always be there?

  Biting her lip, she tried to think of other reasons for him not to reply, something that didn’t paint her in such a bad light. A customer had entered the bar, the connection was down… How long ago had Roxi sent that message? She picked the phone up and checked. Over half an hour ago. Surely by now, he would have replied if he intended to.

  A tear dripped down her cheek and she sniffed. Contacting him had been a bad idea. If she hadn’t, she could have held on to the hope that Armand would change his mind and want to be involved. Now, she had to face facts. Their relationship was well and truly over and it was mostly her fault.

  Rolling onto her side, she stifled her cries in her pillow, not wanting her baby to start life hearing his momma crying over a man.

  Chapter 30

  Armand stared down at Jenna who was now in his arms, pressed close to his chest, her hands on his shoulders. She looked up at him in shock, her eyes wide, her breathing fast. His own was quicker than normal as well.

  “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat.

  “No, it was my fault.”

  He inhaled deeply, her scent filling his lungs. They’d never been this close before.

  Her lips quirked in a crooked smile. She slid her hands down his chest then she slowly stepped back.

  He released his grip on her in increments, wanting to make sure she was steady on her feet.

  “I should have watched where I was going.”

  “I was the one who spilled the water. I should have cleaned it up.”

  “Well, thank you for saving me when I slipped.”

  He nodded. This incident was not going to help the conversation he had planned. When Jenna had skidded in the puddle on the floor, he’d instinctively caught her. Hopefully, she didn’t view it as a romantic gesture.

  She cocked her head. “You didn’t try to turn that into a kiss.”

  “No. I didn’t. I…”

  “You’re just not into me.” She leaned one elbow on the bar and studied him.

  “I think you are a very nice—”

  “Yes, I know the spiel. I’m nice, you think of me as a friend. I’ve heard it before.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No need. I’ve suspected for some time. I guess I was still hurting from my previous relationship and wanted a new one enough that I ignored the signs.”

  “Signs?”

  “No man goes that slow in a relationship unless his heart is elsewhere.”

  He almost laughed at her statement, thinking of how long he’d waited before making a move on Lucy. Instead, he continued his apology. “I didn’t mean to use you.”

  “I don’t look on it as ‘using’. It was more like you were testing the waters, seeing if you were ready to swim again or not.” She propped her chin on her hand. “I am curious as to why you’re telling me now.”

  “The woman I was seeing contacted me and I…” He didn’t mention the baby. It wasn’t news he was willing to share with just anyone. “I’ve realized I’m still committed to her.”

  “Oh.” She was silent for a moment then shrugged one shoulder. “Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

  “Thank you for being so understanding.” It was a relief to know he’d not hurt her.

  She straightened and put on her jacket. “It’s probably for the best that we didn’t ‘click’. I’ve been thinking of moving.”

  “Not because of me, I hope.” He immediately felt guilty.

  “No. I came here to lick my wounds but running away is never a solution. Besides, the winters up here are miserable and the internet can be spotty; that’s not a good thing for my business.”

  “You’ll be missed if you leave.”

  “Will I?” She raised a brow, then shook her head. “Now, as to the business at hand, I’ll keep working here until I leave, provided that’s all right with you?”

  He nodded.

  “And I have a few promotional ideas that I’ll need to wrap up with some of the businesses in
town as well as completing the planning for the craft fair and fishing derby. I’ll stay to help with the inaugural kick off.”

  He noticed the posters for Daniel’s band that she’d left on the bar. “Don’t forget these.” He nodded as he studied them. “They’re very good.”

  “Thanks.” She picked them up and tucked them under her arm. “I’ll drop them off at his place on my way home.”

  He watched her leave, pleased the conversation had gone so smoothly yet, at the same time, he thought he’d picked up an odd vibe from the woman. Had she been upset and just hiding it well? Or was it his own distraction that had caused the feeling? He was eager to return to his phone.

  And speaking of phones, he went to check on the charge. The indicator showed enough for a conversation at least. He opened the message thread and studied the baby’s image again, still marvelling at the idea this child was a part of him. His inner animal rumbled with pride.

  It is a fine cub. Sturdy and alert.

  He nodded in agreement as he wandered into the main part of the bar in search of better lighting. “Yes, his eyes seem to be looking right at me.”

  We will need to teach him many things.

  How to fish.

  How to track.

  How to throw an axe or a knife.

  And use his claws to mark his territory.

  Maybe he’ll enjoy painting. He smiled at the thought of childish artwork hanging on the fridge, colourful blobs and stick people—

  “What are you looking at, Armand?”

  He gave a start, so caught up in his musings that he’d completely missed Melody entering the room.

  “Riens. Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” She raised her brows. “I managed to catch you unawares. That’s never happened before.”

  He hesitated, wanting to boast about his son yet also wanting to keep the news to himself. In the end, pride won out and he passed the phone to her. “This is Caleb.”

  “Caleb?” She took the phone, her eyes widening as she looked at the picture and then back at him. “This is your baby? I mean yours and Lucy’s?”