State of Independence

by Sherry L. Brown

  “Let’s take a break here. I think we’ll need to run down to the auto parts store tomorrow to get some cleaner.”

  Chapter 4

  I march down the stairs a few days later with pure resolve in my spine.

  Glory’s been gone a few days. Grayson left a few days after her, and I only heard his truck park in the garage late last night. Speaking to Justice this morning, everything is fine at headquarters. I’d kept my worries to myself about Glory’s disappearance, not wanting to upset her for what might be a false alarm.

  If Glory’s gone for a while, I’m not going to be a charity case. I set my shoulders. I’m the only one responsible for me. It’s time to pull up my boots and strap them on.

  Bootstrapping. Not sure if that term applies here, but I’ll make it apply.

  There’s two things I know.

  One. I’m am fully capable of making my own way in this world. My mother did it, my sisters are doing it and I’ll do it. Having decided that, I realized I need to push forward with plans for finding a job and getting educated.

  The second thing I know? I’m not going to let any one - most especially the council - tell me how I’m supposed to live my life. None of this little-woman-in-the-kitchen business. Gretchen, sweet Gretchen, pops into my mind. Well, I amend, if being in the kitchen and cooking was my passion, I’d be happy to be there.

  That’s what the crux of this is. I want to find my passion, my purpose. Not be told what it is.

  So plans. Get a job. Then enroll in college. Marc’s done it. He’s going back in August. I can go too. I can stay on campus, work and...move on with my life.

  Pep-talk complete, I shove open the door to his office with a little more zeal than I had planned, and trip over my feet when the door swings easily open.

  I keep walking fast, hoping he’s not paying attention.

  He is. From behind his desk, he arches his eyebrows up at me.

  “Everything ok?”

  “Yes. I need to talk to you.” I am proud of my confident tone. I sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

  “Glory’s missing. I know she left of her own free will. I won’t ask you why, if it’s something between you and her. Mainly I want to know if she’s ok.”

  “As far as we know? She’s alive. She went to your house, and now it’s destroyed.”

  I ponder what I can do, what info I need to know.

  “The guardians are going to do all that we can to find her.” Grayson supplies before I can go on.

  The guardians. That’s the faction of wolves that works with the council to enforce our rules. Marc had spilled the beans on them a while ago.

  I nod, knowing they are more capable, with access to more resources than I’ll ever be. Which just leaves me with my current situation.

  “I want to get a job. Go to school in August.”

  I am about to eat my humble pie and ask him if I can still stay here even though Glory’s not here. I suck in air and hold it in my lungs, preparing to do just that, while he leans back fully, in his chair. His eyes are the gray-blue of storm clouds over the ocean.

  “You can go to school. You can’t live on campus.” He announces like a king on a throne.

  I expel all my air in with a flash of ire. “First off -”

  “And you can work for me.”

  My fight dissipates in puzzlement. “Work for you?”

  He waves a hand to the stacks of paperwork on his desk.

  “The business end of managing a pack. I’ve got account receivables, account payables for sixteen rental properties. I’ve got leasing agreements, contractors, purchase orders; land development deals, real estate agents, portfolio building, retirement plans, health insurance - “

  “I don’t know anything about all that.”

  “You can learn.”

  I nod. It all sounds so terribly boring. But he’s right. I can learn. This is the stuff I’ll need to know to take care of myself. Financial security adult stuff.

  “How much are you willing to pay me?”

  He smiles. Like the cat catching the canary. “Room and board isn’t enough?”

  He wants me to stay here. Work for him.

  Before I can completely process he continues, “Above minimum wage good enough for you?”

  I won’t have to scrimp and save and live off noodles. With the added bonus of learning from Gray. He’s smart. Controlled. Respected. Strong. And obviously rich.

  I could have far-worse bosses in my life.

  He’s handsome too. That face, those eyes. They cause my stomach to clench and my muscles to not work.

  Well, I’ll have to kick that to the curb. I can’t even name what ‘that’ is. He’s married to my sister. End of story.

  “What if it doesn’t work out?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well -” I tap my fingers on the armrest, “What if I accidentally mix something up and you lose money? Or I lose something important and -”

  “You won’t.”

  Just like that. He has blind faith in me.

  “I’m not bringing you your coffee every morning.”

  He laughs. A full on hearty guffaw, straight from his belly.

  I can’t help the smile that pulls my lips up. I made him laugh.

  “Trust me. I won’t ask you to.” He says.

  Chapter 5

  For the first time in my life, things seem peaceful. Everyday I wake up and eat breakfast. Meet Marc in the garage to piddle around with parts and learn about carburetors, cam shafts and cylinders in the hour or two before I head into Grayson’s office.

  Sometimes he’s there, sometimes he’s not.

  This morning, it’s just me. I power up the laptop he ordered for me, and which now sits on the edge of his desk, and go through emails. Usually there’s a piece of paper on top of the laptop with work to do.

  Today is no exception. “File these papers. Send notice letters. Research BLM grants.”

  I’m filing the paperwork when he comes in.

  “You know what’d be easier?” I speak my thoughts out loud, “Scan these as they come in, then we could just keep all the records digitally.”

  Done with the last piece of paper, I straighten up from where I am bent over at the filing cabinet.

  I bump the drawer closed with my hip and sit back down at my computer, pulling open the word file.

  “And we should get on Google drive to share documents.”

  I copy and paste the notice letter he’d emailed me last night into a Google word doc. I start formatting it to look nice.

  “Grayson?” He hasn’t come in to sit at his desk. I tip my head past the side of my computer screen.

  He’s standing in the doorway, one hand holding his coffee cup, one hand fisted on his hip, legs spread wide, his face tipped up to the ceiling.

  Worry drops through me. “Is everything ok?”

  “Yes.” He takes a seat at his computer desk and doesn’t say anything else. His customary scent comes with him and I take a breath inhaling its goodness while puzzling over his demeanor.

  He opens his desk drawer, pulls out his credit card and slides it over to me.

  “Order the scanner. And some appropriate work attire.”

  He’s upset about what I’m wearing? Yoga pants with kicks and a man’s soft gray work shirt I’d found in the bottom of the basket when I was doing my laundry? The shirt is warm, like a sweater, and I knotted the tails up at my belly button to be fashionable.

  I feel a blush steal over my face. It is pretty standard wear for me. Maybe fashionable is too kind a word. Maybe he thinks it’s sloppy.

  Glory had brought me a few things before she left. Yoga pants, skinny jeans, t-shirts, pajamas, these shoes. Functional things. All new things.

  What exactly is appropriate work attire? I look him over without turning my head.

  He’s usually got on either a suit or jeans, boots, and a button up with a sport coat. I’ve seen him wear workout attire only when he
hits up the gym.

  Occasionally he’ll come to dinner in a long-sleeved tee or Henley. That’s the most relaxed I’d ever seen him.

  Following his example, I need business wear. What do business women wear? On TV it always seems like skirts and sweater sets. At least, that’s what Bernadette and Amy portray. I wrinkle my nose. I’m not a sweater and skirt kinda girl.

  I’m more like Penny. Just throwing on whatever’s near and comfortable.

  I go to Amazon and read reviews for scanners while the back of my mind works this new fashion quandary over in my mind.

  Selecting a scanner I think will work nicely, I add it to the cart then click the search bar.

  Typing in Women’s business attire gets me a lot of dresses and blouses. All very mature looking and not really my style.

  Lost in virtual shopping Grayson’s voice surprises me out of my zone. “I’m heading to the gym, then I’ll be out of the office this afternoon. You can take the afternoon off.”

  I pop my head up from behind the computer screen and see he’s already at the door.

  “Ok. Thanks.”

  Not sure of what’s got his underwear in a twist, I go ahead and order the scanner before going back to the notice letters.

  I’ll figure out just what I’m supposed to be wearing later. Maybe Gretchen can offer some advice.

  I break at lunch after researching BLM reforestation grants.

  I make a turkey sandwich for myself and one for Marc. I grab a bag of chips, and head into the garage where I know I’ll most likely find him.

  Chapter 6

  Justice says my arm is seizing due to lack of use. That if I want to keep it from locking up, I need to exercise it. Move it, stretch it, strengthen it.

  I am too intimidated to go into the gym. I know Marc and Grayson work out there every morning, having regular sessions with Adam, Grayson’s beta, and Locke and Eric, other guardians and other members of the pack.

  There is always someone in there.

  And I am not ready to show my weaknesses.

  I am not ready to share my vulnerabilities.

  After dinner, after the house settles with quiet, I make my way down to the pool.

  It’s off to the side of the back patio, a monstrous screened in contraption.

  When I open the door, warm air buffets me. It’s dark inside, but I can make out the shapes of the ornamental palms Glory keeps inside.

  I’ve never seen her swim here.

  The moon is big enough I can see what I’m doing, see that water is still.

  No monsters lurk here.

  I throw my towel on a nearby lounge, and sit on the edge of the pool.

  The water is surprisingly warm. Of course. Heated.

  On my palms, I lower my body fully into the water.

  I’d never swam before. But I’d watched some YouTube how-to videos.

  My feet touch here, so I walk around a bit getting a feel for being in water.

  It comes up to my chest.

  I take a couple of deep breaths and bend my knees submerging myself fully.

  I stand up.

  That’s not so bad.

  I hold onto the side, kick my legs out behind me.

  Again, not bad.

  I combine holding onto the side, kicking my legs out behind me and submerging my face.

  After doing this a few times, I let got of the wall.

  I walk to the middle of the shallow end. No safety net now.

  I kick my feet up, my arms out, but my face almost immediately goes under.

  I sputter and try again.

  I’m able to keep my face up this time.

  I kick, my arms instinctually closing in to my sides, but paddling.

  I’m swimming! It’s elation.

  I make it from one side to the other.

  Repeat it.

  This isn’t bad.

  But my shoulder isn’t really getting a workout.

  I need to Michael Phelps this shit.

  But first the deep end.

  I toe off the bottom, and do my doggy paddle.

  I’m almost to the wall on the far side of the deep end.

  The lights suddenly power on. I panic.

  My feet don’t touch!

  I kick frantically, paddle and am finally able to reach the ledge with my fingertips.

  I pull myself to the wall and wait for my heart rate to slow.

  A near soundless splash next to me, a man’s figure dives into the water and glides gracefully under. When he pops up, he strokes to the shallow end before doing a fancy underwater reversal.

  He’s headed my way, and my embarrassment freezes me for a few seconds. I don’t own a bathing suit. I’d elected to try my exercise experiment in my underwear and a sports bra.

  He’s halfway to the middle of the pool.

  Maybe I can inch my way along the edge, and pull myself out without him noticing.

  The splashing stops.

  “Indy?”

  I turn to him. “Umm. Sorry. I was just…”

  “Swimming?”

  “Trying to.”

  His head cocks to the side.

  “I mean...I just…” This is embarrassing. “I’ve never swam before.”

  He swims over to me. His hand grabs onto the edge next to mine.

  “Never?”

  I shake my head. “It’s just that my shoulder…” I hate admitting my vulnerabilities.

  With the exception of being carried into the woods by him, and him pushing his power into me, this is the closest I’ve ever been to him.

  That time was colored by pain and a hazy near-death nebula. This time is crystal clear and butterflies. My body seems to be vibrating with nervousness. His nearness has the effect on me that a strum on a guitar has on the strings.

  His eyes narrow, and his leg brushes against mine underneath the water.

  The smooth, tickling texture of his leg sends a volt of electricity through me.

  He seems unaffected. “C’mon. I’ll teach you some strokes.” He pushes off the wall, and sleekly parts the water down to the shallow end.

  I follow, slowly with my pathetic paddle.

  He lets me come to him, and doesn’t say anything until I get closer and his hand snags around my wrist, pulling me in close to him.

  “Put your feet down.”

  I do. And notice his scent. Citrus and earthy. Like cedarwood and...I can’t place it. My hand has nowhere to go but the top of his shoulder.

  “Seems like you have the dog paddle down. Have you tried floating?”

  I don’t have words, so I shake my head.

  “Just lean back, bring your feet up, and put your arms out.”

  I lean back. But the falter on the next step. His hands come up to support me on my back.

  “Feet up.”

  My feet float at his command.

  “Arms out.”

  This is a bit harder. The position is vulnerable and the water is close to covering my eyes.

  I go ahead and squeeze them shut, blocking out Grayson’s handsome face so close.

  Of course, doing so brings all my other senses sharply into focus.

  His smell. A spice mixed with something clean. Reminds me of the the woods on a cold, sunny day. Something so good, I just want to sniff, and sniff, and sniff.

  His hands, callused on my low back, and between my shoulder blades. His fingers are long, and his index finger is resting across that ugly raised tissue of my broken wing.

  He eases his hands away, and there’s a panic in my stomach at the loss.

  “Easy. Easy.” That hot palm comes back to my middle back.

  “You have to trust; you are buoyant enough, you won’t sink.” His words are softly-spoken and the electric synapses that fire from the base of my skull down to my spine are disconcerting.

  This time when he slowly lets go, I force myself to remain still. Holding my breath just in case.

  Moments pass. I’m not sinking.

  I release
my breath. And smile.

  “Grayson - “ I say his name at the same time as I lift up, expecting him to be right next to me.

  Instead he’s halfway up the stairs and out of the pool.

  “ - I did it.” I finish with a half-smile, cautious from the body language I’m reading from him.

  He nods, grabs up his towel and swipes it down his face.

  “You shouldn’t swim alone. Ask Marc or Gretchen to swim with you.” His words are brusque, unhappy.

  “I can do it. It’s fine.” I defend. I don’t need a babysitter.

  “No. It’s final. You are not to swim unless someone is with you. You admitted tonight that you’ve never swam before.”

  I pop off a retort without thought, “You are not my alpha. You can’t order me.”

  The stillness that settles over Grayson is visceral.

  I just waved a red flag at a bull.

  I won’t take it back though. It’s the truth. I’ve been living here, what? Eight months. And I haven’t been invited out to run with the pack. Haven’t even met them all. How many full moons?

  It’s a strange limbo for a wolf.

  There is usually a binding ceremony to formally bring someone into a new pack. For the Lyall pack, the pack I had been in before, it had only occured twice in the time I was there. Both times I had missed out on - being that I hadn’t fully transitioned yet. Both times it had been newly bitten wolves.

  “The next full moon, Independence.” He says the words with dark promise. He uses his towel to pat down his chest, abs, and arms. “Now get out of the pool.”

  Sheesh. Rocking from this less-than-nice Gray, I do as he says, climbing the three steps out of the pool.

  I reach for my towel on the lounge, but Grayson get’s there first, unfolding it and whipping it around my shoulders.

  He rubs up and down my arms, drying me like a child.

  “I got it.” I step back from him and use the corner of the towel to wipe my face.

  “I am a fair and equitable alpha, Indy. But don’t test me.” He spins on his heel then, leaving me contemplating as the pool house door shuts behind him.

  It’s fair to say I haven’t seen all the facets of Grayson Faolain. Working for him doesn’t lend itself to getting to know each other. He gives me instructions on what he wants done, I do it, and that’s that.