Secret: Of Amber Eyes

by D. K. Davis

  “Child, you look beat. Are you sure you want to help with the fawns?”

  * * *

  Rowan

  After the talk with Dad last night, I understood the soul-mate for life. The person instinct naturally drew to another, in such a way that person filled another’s every thought, connected deeply to their emotions and instincts, and instilled in them the need to protect. That was Morgan to me. But Dad possessed a sensibility able to detect otherlings, humans mixed with other specie bloodlines. He wanted to meet Morgan tonight in the meadow, his attempt at proving she was only human and not my mate. Not that he wasn’t happy I’d met a girl and felt an attraction for the first time, but said he had an obligation to ensure our lineage continued as pure as possible.

  Dad’s words jettisoned through my head, “Son, let’s be positive about this girl being your mate-for-life before you say or do something you’ll regret.”

  Oakly had heard some of the conversations last night, and I was sure he’d act out with Morgan, like tonight. He’d been drinking. I knew the signs by now. His abusive conduct toward everything reeked of hatred, like his working for the Connor’s, even though that couple supported everyone who came to them.

  I hoped Charlie took heed when I told him to watch out for Oakly. Every day my brother behaves worse than the day before.

  The cats thought of Oakly as a wildcard. Dad told him, the cats were paying close attention to him. His carelessness might draw the wrong kind of attention to our society, and the cats’ harsh way of dealing with misfits kept most in line, anyone not abiding by our laws was never seen again.

  I climbed a tree at the edge of the Connor’s property to monitor Oakly until my patrol shift. My brother required surveillance, and if not from me, then who?

  * * *

  Morgan

  The little cuties in front of me guzzled down the contents in the bottles. “Okay, little Bambi and Faline, it’s all gone.” I set the bottles down, and the little stinkers licked my fingers.

  “So, you did name them.” My aunt stood next to the enclosure. “I told you, they’d grow on you. Can’t be helped.”

  I grabbed the bottles and crawled out of the enclosure, sliding the entrance gate closed. Their little bleats followed me out, and yea, they were growing on me.

  I followed Aunt Becka to the sterilization room and helped wash the bottles.

  Aunt Becka placed them in a sterilization unit, setting the timer. “They’ll all be ready for the next feeding.”

  “The morning feeding, right?” I asked.

  “We’re almost done with the wee-hour morning feedings, another week maybe.” She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and led me through the barn door. “Let’s go talk. I want to know what upset you so with that phone call before dinner. Was it your mother?”

  “No, not Mom.” I wanted to share about Jack and Kara, and my suspicions of them working together, but to what end? I didn’t possess actual proof of anything. Nor did I truly know how my aunt would react, but she deserved honesty. “I want to share, but I’m not ready. Can we talk about it another time?”

  “Anytime you’re ready. I won’t press you.” We walked to the back steps of the house, and before we climbed the stairs, my aunt hugged me.

  This time, I hugged her back, and to my surprise, she let go first.

  Chapter Eight

  Morgan

  Rowan asked if I smoked. I laughed, loud, from my stomach, and he joined in with the hilarity. We laughed until we cried. Rowan held me. With his fingertips to my cheek, he lifted my face and our gazes connected. His lips touched mine. Gentle, firm, his tongue slid between my lips. Our tongues pressed together, sending a warm pulse down my body.

  He kneeled, pulling me with him. He leaned my body against the Statue of Venus; my head rested on the cool hard stone. He straddled me, not putting his weight on my lap, but his upper body brushed mine. His chest was bare. When did that happen? I don’t remember him taking off his shirt.

  Again, he kissed me, deep, his tongue searching inside my mouth. I closed my eyes. My nose didn’t itch. I wanted him to kiss me.

  He slammed me to the ground, his hand held me there. I opened my eyes to Oakly’s glowing amber eyes and his nasty grin. Kara’s face hovered next to his.

  I sat straight up. My breath caught, hanging on a fragile memory moment of a nightmare or a dream. Moonlight spread over the bed, lighting the room in a twilight glow. The clock on the nightstand read 4:00 a.m. I must have fallen asleep…in my clothes. My hand lay against my shirt, and I still wore my shoes. I wiggled my toes inside of them.

  Tears ran down my face. I didn’t know why. My chest pressed in on itself, heavy with a breath I couldn’t quite breathe. Off in the near distance, I heard yippy howls, like from a pack of dogs. Someone shuffled around downstairs and the back door opened and closed. I peeked out the window and saw Uncle Charlie in the moonlight running toward the fawn pen. A yard light popped on as he got closer, illuminating the area around the barn.

  It must be time for the early morning feeding. I relaxed my back against the log wall. It felt warmer, less dramatic than the statue of Venus. More tears. I let them fall until they dried.

  All cried-out and wide awake, I decided to help Uncle Charlie. Not because I condoned the prison life, but because I wanted to occupy my mind with something other than Kara, Oakly, or Rowan.

  I needed to keep up on my responsibility if I planned on getting out of here. My falling asleep before dark hardly proved me worthy of early release. But, then, where would I end up if I got released early?

  I shrugged into a hoodie sweatshirt, one Mom brought back from a trip out East, and then I headed outside. The early morning air cooled my cheeks with dewy moisture. None of the wildlife at the refuge made a sound, but the yippy-howling continued. It sounded farther off than when I first woke up.

  Uncle Charlie looked up as I entered. “Morning. You’re up awful early. Course, you conked out on us soon after dinner. I asked Becka what she had in the pot pie.” He grinned.

  “Yea guess I was tired. Sorry, I cut out before finishing the chores.”

  “No big deal. Figured we threw too much at you.” Uncle Charlie topped off the last bottle of formula and looked up again. “Did we do that to you?”

  “No. I honestly don’t know what happened to me after dinner. I’m not sick.”

  “Maybe you’re not used to so much fresh air after smellin’ all that car exhaust and whatever else is floating around in the big city.” He picked up the bottle carrier. “So, you feedin’ the little guys?”

  “Yea.”

  “Have you named them yet?”

  “Yea, I got some names, but don’t know if they’re girls or boys. Haven’t checked their parts.”

  “How about one of each?”

  “Perfect. The girl will be Faline, and the boy will be Bambi. How’s that for names?”

  Uncle Charlie chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve been thinking of those names for a while. I should tell you most wildlife refuges don’t allow naming. It’s a sure way to stamp humans onto a wild animal.”

  “Guess I never thought of it that way.”

  “We name a few, but not many. We do our best to reintroduce rehabilitated deer back into the wild. Many times, they’re released onto our wildlife preserve property. We still have to monitor the size of the herd, can’t allow over population or we end up with disease or famine.”

  “How would you ever get a head count from the preserve?”

  “We have motion cameras set up along deer runs, plus for the last couple of years, we’ve injected those we rehabilitate with a small tracking chip. We take physical counts now and then as well. Those can be a little tricky. But above and beyond that, we have our security patrol. They help with monitoring the headcount as well.”

  “Yea, I can’t imagine sneaking up on a herd of deer for a head count. They spook so easily.”

  “We post ourselves at different deer blinds for that. Sometimes, it can feel
like a big waste of time while waiting for the deer to show up.”

  Uncle Charlie stood in position with the five bottles, so I headed off to the small covered pen with two bottles. Faline and Bambi sucked it right down. In the two days I’d been there, the twins grew stronger and steadier on their feet. Their little bodies appeared fuller, less wrinkled. Inside the enclosure with them, nothing else mattered to me, only them.

  “How are you coming along? About done?” Uncle Charlie stood at the entry to the little pen, holding the carrier of empty bottles.

  “Done.” I patted the noses of both babies, one at a time. “See you later, Faline. You too, Bambi.”

  “Hey, you got them right. So, you gave the fawns a little physical.”

  “Nope. Lucky guess, Faline has longer eye lashes than Bambi.” I chuckled.

  We walked into the house, and Aunt Becka stood at the sink filling the coffee pot. “So, how’re our babies? Hungry?”

  “You mean these babies,” Uncle Charlie pointed at me and then himself, “or those babies?” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder toward the back door.

  “Okay, all of our babies. How’re all of our babies doing today?” Aunt Becka glanced at me but continued preparing the coffee and something else in a single cup. “How are you feeling this morning, Morgan? I wondered about you after the last feeding. I went up to look in on you, and you were fast asleep on top of the bed. I put my hand to your forehead to make sure you hadn’t caught a bug. You felt fine.”

  “I never heard you. Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “Thought you needed to rest or you wouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place.” Aunt Becka let escape a smaller version of her happy sounds. “Besides, it’s going to get pretty busy around here today.”

  “What’s happening today?” I asked. Aunt Becka set a cup of steaming hot chocolate in front of me. How does she know I love hot chocolate? “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” She looked at Uncle Charlie. “You want to explain things, and I’ll get started on cooking, or shall I explain and you start cooking?”

  “It’s only 5:00 a.m., why are you already cooking? I’m not even hungry, yet.” I sipped my hot chocolate.

  “We’re just getting set up, and your aunt prepares a few goodies before everyone arrives.” Uncle Charlie lifted a large electric pot out of a low cupboard and set it on the counter.

  Who is everyone? The troubled kids that Mom told me about?

  He pulled out a big mixing bowl, a bottle of oil, and some other ingredients, setting each item on the counter. “Shall I get the long folding table from the basement?” he asked.

  “There’s a basement here?” I didn’t recall seeing a door that led to a basement.

  “Yea. We get to it from outside. We store canned goods down there and a few other things. It’s a storm shelter with shelves.” Uncle Charlie looked at Aunt Becka, waiting for her response.

  “All right go get the table. I’ll get started in here.” My aunt poured two cups of coffee, drank from one, and set the other on the counter as Uncle Charlie stepped out the back door.

  “Maybe, you’d like to help me make some fry-cakes?” Aunt Becka asked.

  “Sure.” I took a quick swig of cocoa. Its creamy, smooth chocolaty taste rolled over my tongue. I drank another swallow before walking to the counter near Aunt Becka. On the grand scale of things happening in my life at this moment, the hot cocoa rated high. “So, who’s arriving? A bunch of bad-mannered kids? Is that why you need a long table?”

  “We’re expecting six kids from junior high or high school this morning. I hold animal rescue classes for extra credit to any kid willing to spend thirty or more hours of work time here through the summer.”

  “So, there are kids who want to come here? No offense, but I was sent here as punishment.” Saying those words out loud confused me. Where did I feel punished? Here, with Aunt Becka and Uncle Charlie or at Jack’s. Of course, it’s here, right?

  Aunt Becka appeared confused also, her brows furrowed for the first time since I’d been there. “I’m not sure why you believe you’re here for punishment, Morgan. Did your mother tell you that?” Suddenly, her eyes widened, and the frown disappeared. “Don’t answer that. The truth is most of the kids that come here are a lot like Rowan. They want to help injured animals, treating, feeding, and healing wildlife. Plus, it helps to have extra hands doing some of the work.” Aunt Becka stepped around me to pull a dozen eggs from the refrigerator.

  So, Rowan wasn’t a bad guy in need of rehabilitation. Kids are coming here to learn? That sounded more like a form of wildlife advocacy for the kids’ future and the future of wildlife.

  “Here.” I handed her the whisk and bowl already setting on the counter.

  “I’d like your assistance with showing this group all the firsts. You know, everything you’ve been doing the last couple of days.” Aunt Becka cracked eggs, dumping the insides into the bowl and tossing the shells in a garbage container she’d set on the floor next to her. “And, I’ll add that you’re doing a darn decent job at it, too. You’re a natural. I believe you have a few of Grandma Mary’s veterinary genes.”

  A banging on the back door grabbed our attention. I ran to the door, and Uncle Charlie held the long table and a glass jar of something underneath his arm. I let him in and grabbed the jar before it dropped.

  “Thanks.” He winked at me. “Hide that in the fridge, would you?” he whispered.

  It looked like sliced peaches inside the jar. I held it in front of my body, my back to Aunt Becka so she didn’t see. I opened the fridge and asked my aunt if she needed the milk, and then stuck the jar on a shelf in the door for Uncle Charlie. Man, what a conspirator I can be. It came so easy; it creeped me out.

  Aunt Becka did her thing with the fry-cakes. She didn’t need my help. Uncle Charlie and I pushed the smaller kitchen table to the edge of the great room and then set up the long table, placing a tablecloth over it. We set the kitchen chairs around it and added a couple folding chairs. I helped place glasses, plates, and silverware for each kid, the bus driver, and for us.

  Afterward, I went upstairs to shower and change my clothes. It would be my first time at playing a leader part with kids of any age. The usual role I had played was ‘blending into the wall’ where I never talked to anyone.

  After drying off, I stood naked in front of the mirror. Steam tinged the outer edges, giving me a soft look. Scrutinizing my body came easily to me. Mom never failed to point out something, like my mousy brown hair, the flatness of my breasts, a waist the same size as my hips, or legs with no curving shape – straight as pipe cleaners. All Mom’s favorite digs listed and protected inside my head.

  I turned sideways, turned around and looked over my shoulder, then full frontal. I raised my arms, sucked in my stomach, spread my legs…hmmm. What attracted Rowan or Oakly? Not good looks or a fantastic body, that was for sure.

  Suddenly, I couldn’t stand looking at myself and quickly got dressed. My nose itched. I rubbed the crap out of it all the way down the circular stairway. Once I hit the landing, I twisted my hair, pulled it up and bent half of it back down. Grabbed the hair clip I’d stuck on my shirtsleeve and cinched my hair tight to the back of my head. Mousy hair put to bed.

  Fry-cakes sure smelled good. Wonder what time class begins?

  Chapter Nine

  Rowan

  Dad caught me at the door. He’d just walked in after his shift of patrolling the forest. “What’s your hurry? I want to ask you a couple of questions. Do you have time?”

  “I’m headed out to bus some summer-school kids to the Connor’s place. I’d get there early anyway. What’s up?” I followed Dad into the living room.

  “Where’s your brother?”

  “Didn’t he relieve you? He’s scheduled for this morning.” I’d patrolled last night before Dad relieved me. Oakly was supposed to patrol after Dad.

  “I called in someone else. Oakly never showed. Again.” Dad strode through
the house to Oakly’s room.

  I trailed behind. My brother wasn’t there.

  “I was afraid of this.” Dad stared at Oakly’s messy, empty bed. “He’s been missing his shifts.” My father walked through the room, kicking clothes around on the floor and discovering some empty vodka bottles. “What the hell? He told me that he’d stopped drinking.”

  I pressed my lips together, not wanting to rat on my twin. Oakly kept secrets from all of us, including our mother who had left for a month to take care of shifter business in the upper peninsula. I had a suspicion he’d gotten involved with some nasty dudes.

  Dad studied me. “You know something.”

  “I don’t know anything, only speculation. Oakly’s been drinking a lot lately, and how is he getting it? He can’t possibly be stealing that much.” Questions neither of us could answer.

  “Have you noticed blood trails without proof of death?” Dad’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been wondering if we have a rogue in our midst. Have you heard of any cougar sightings?”

  “I noticed some blood without a body and meant to ask you about it.” There’d been a few blood puddles without bodies. The first one was a couple of days ago, but I’d been so distracted with Morgan I forgot to ask Dad about it. “I haven’t heard of big cat sightings though, but I did hear some talk of poachers in the area. I didn’t pay close attention because our forest wasn’t under attack.” A thought came to me, and queasiness bottomed out in my stomach. “Dad, I heard some locals at the grocery store. They were talking about seeing a pick-up load of pelts leave town.”

  “Did you know the men who were talking about it? I believe our forest has been under attack for the last few days. Not on my shift, and I’m guessing not on your shift.” Dad’s brow shot up. “If you see your brother, I want to talk to him.”