by B R Snow
“I’ll be there,” he said. Then he leaned over and gently kissed my forehead. “Get some rest.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
After they left, Josie and Chef Claire huddled close to the bed and hugged me.
“We’ll be back later to pick you up,” Josie said.
“I’ll be ready,” I said, having a hard time keeping my eyes open.
“Let’s go,” Chef Claire said. “I need to stop by the restaurant on the way home.”
“Cool,” Josie said. “Maybe I’ll make myself a sandwich.”
“I’d be shocked if you didn’t,” Chef Claire said. “See you later, Mrs. C.”
“Goodbye, ladies,” my mother said, staring down at her granddaughter. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
“She certainly is,” Chef Claire said, then paused in the doorway and looked back at me. “Why do you think Peters went to all that trouble?”
“You mean to hide his research?” I said.
“Yeah. It was a bit over the top,” she said.
“Good question,” I said, too tired to think about it.
“Maybe he figured out what Clarissa and Charlotte were up to,” Chef Claire said with a shrug.
“Or the guy was just a total nutjob,” Josie said.
“There is that,” I said.
“It could have been worse,” Josie said. “He could have been a muttonhead.”
“Go home,” I said, laughing through another yawn.
When they had left, I glanced over at my mother with a sleepy stare.
“You want me to take her, Mom?”
“No, she’s fine right here. You get some sleep.”
“Thanks, Mom. Well, we finally managed to get you a granddaughter, huh?”
“Yes. Well done, darling. You did good.”
“Did well.”
“Go to sleep,” she said, raising an eyebrow at me.
I did.
I slept hard and dreamt deep.
Of a solitary wolf silhouetted against the backdrop of a full moon.
The wolf’s howls reverberated around the city landscape I found myself in, and, as I stood there holding a young girl’s hand, I couldn’t decide if the howls signified the wolf merely announcing its presence to the world, or if they were meant as a warning.
A warning about the inexorable march of progress toward a world where people, people of means to be precise, could buy longevity and a healthier life.
Or, as if being fully cognizant of the landscape shifting under its feet, perhaps the wolf was asking if there would always be a place for him.
A safe place.
With room to roam.
Unfettered.
I glanced down when I felt a tiny hand squeeze mine.
“What’s the wolf saying, Mama?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe he’s just saying hello.”
“That must be it,” she said in a tiny voice. Then she squeezed my hand again. “Nothing gets past you, Mama.”
“Thanks, Sweetie. I have my moments.”