A Shift in the Water (11 page)

“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 house.”

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?”

“Is he still in the house?”

“No. I hit him. Baseball bat. He jumped out a window.”

“Okay, ma’am. I’ve sent the call to the dispatcher and help will be there as soon as possible. I’m going to stay on the phone with you until they arrive. I need you to answer some questions for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” the dispatcher said. “Do you feel safe staying on the phone with me? Are you injured?”

“I’m not hurt. He, um, tried to choke me, but I didn’t pass out, I mean . . . I’m okay, I think. What if he comes back? My wol—my dog ran after him. I hit him, but he got in once . . . what if he comes back?” Mara’s chest tightened, her breath wheezing. She had to calm down and breathe.

“Do you have somewhere you’d feel safe?”

“I don’t know. Bathroom maybe. I can lock the door.”

“Okay, can you stay on the phone with me in there?”

“Yes.” Mara dragged herself across the hall into the bathroom and closed and locked the door. “Okay.”

“Can you describe the man?”

She could do this. She was safe. Help was coming. “Uh . . . it was dark. He was big. White. His eyes were dark. He had a mask on, but I saw his eyes.”

“How big? Was he fat? Muscular? Tall?”

“He was muscular. He held me down. He was trying to choke me. I couldn’t move him off me.”

“What about his clothing?”

“Dark. His shirt was tight. Long-sleeved. I tried to scratch his arms, but it was all fabric. I don’t know about his pants. He was only on me for a minute. Bud . . . my dog . . . he attacked the guy.”