A Fragile Family

by J. J. Massa

  Jack was pretty sure he would have been taken seriously at Don’s in his own right. He wasn’t a nice man, he didn’t pretend to be. He’d done a dime, nearly two, federal. He was as hard as anyone there. With Becker at his side, he was guaranteed respect.

  Sipping at his drink and trying not to look around, Jack realized that it had never occurred to him to wonder if this or that guy was a werewolf. It still didn’t matter. For all he knew, Becker was. His eyes turned a little funny sometimes.

  “Something tickle you?” Becker grunted—a response to Jack’s unconscious snort.

  Dangerous ground again. Jack carefully slid his glance to Becker’s face and away.

  He hoped he got this one right. Becker wouldn’t kill him in public…but Don’s wasn’t really all that public.

  “Just crossed my mind…” he paused, noting Becker’s interested focus. “I wouldn’t know if you were a werewolf or something.”

  He risked a full-on glance at the big man, sucking down his cheap whisky, relieved when Becker knocked his back and then looked at the bartender. Two shot glasses running over with whiskey landed on the table in front of them. The bartender was back behind the counter before Becker could look at him a second time.

  “Nope,” the big man rumbled, watching Jack. “’F I was, I’da marked you by now.”

  With no idea how to respond to that, Jack gave a jerky nod.

  By the time they’d finished their second drink, Becker had inclined his head three times. Jack had carefully avoided catching the eye of any of the men Becker had apparently been nodding at. He knew they’d turn up at Becker’s house later.

  ****

  Sometime home of Myles Brooks-Montgomery

  Darke Woods Road

  Talking Rock, GA

  “What’s wrong, Sherman?” Myles asked him, stroking a hand through the unruly curls that Sherman would have shaved off ten times over up until now. A chair scraped back as the other man sat down.

  Sherman turned his head, pretending to look out the kitchen window. He could barely see it from where he sat at the little dinette set. Myles wouldn’t let him get away with that, though, a palm on his cheek turning Sherman back to face him.

  “Werewolves are really physical, hmm?” Sherman asked, more to divert Myles than anything else.

  “As it happens, yeah,” Myles confirmed. “Like dogs, I told you, or wolves. Very physical, very affectionate with their family—their pack.” He patted Sherman’s cheek and stroked a splayed hand through his curls again. “I like these, don’t use any goop on ‘em, okay, ducks? You know—you’re a member of my pack now.”

  Before his sojourn in the Philippines, Sherman might have been uneasy about being handled so much, so much familiarity. Objectively, he doubted it. Aside from Ashley and Bernadette, the odd handshake from Marc or hug from Tayler, he hadn’t been really touched in years; the hysterical clinging of a week ago just didn’t count. This was the touch of someone who simply cared about him.

  Lilith certainly didn’t touch him like this, or at all if she could avoid it. It had been four years since they’d been married. Four years since their wedding night. They hadn’t made love ten times since then. Well, he’d been making love, and it seemed, he’d also been getting screwed.

  “Family?” Sherman said now, a rush of tears prickling at the back of his eyes.

  “My parents died when I was in college…car wreck. I was an only child. Lilith…didn’t really want family.”

  “Family,” Myles repeated, pulling Sherman’s forehead to his shoulder in a brief hug. He had pulled his chair around the little table so that he sat directly in front of Sherman, facing him.

  “Why…” Sherman swallowed, cleared his throat, tried again. “Why would you want me in your family?”

  Myles tilted Sherman’s chin up to make eye contact. Ashley’s husband was only about ten years older than he was, but he felt like a child looking into those knowing brown eyes.

  “You’re a good man, Sherman Landon. Smart, a natural leader, a guy who isn’t afraid to risk his life to protect his friends and to help people who need it. Why wouldn’t I want you in my pack?”

  Sherman stared into that mesmerizing gaze, trying hard to believe what Myles was telling him.

  “Why indeed?” a deep voice rang from the kitchen door. “You’re a welcome addition to the Montgomery-Livingston pack.”

  Sherman had turned to look, anxious—even nervous to see who was coming in the back door. His grip on Myles tightened and before he knew it, he was practically in Ashley’s old man’s lap. A giant talking dog was holding the door open for a red-headed guy who lifted a hand to wave as he entered.

  “I…” Sherman was afraid to look away. “Myles, I don’t feel good. I’m seeing…Good God that dog is big!”

  “A wolf, son,” the dog said, holding a giant paw out to Sherman. “Mik Montgomery. I add my thanks to everyone else’s for trying to keep Ashley safe.”

  “It’s okay, Sherman,” Myles soothed, stroking his hair again. It did make Sherman feel calmer, even if he would never say that out loud. “This is my da. Remember I told you about the gene-splicing?” Sherman nodded, looking between the dog and Myles. He gingerly took the paw and gave it a quick shake.

  “I don’t, um, I don’t really see a family resemblance, Myles,” Sherman said carefully, testing the waters to see what could possibly happen next.

  Myles cleared his throat and Sherman watched as his eyes went a little pale and his hair and teeth began to grow the way they had the day before.

  “Don’t let him fool ya,” the guy with the dark red hair moved forward and offered his hand. “Myles was adopted. He’s not going to look that much like Mik. Me?” His light green eyes flashed and his teeth and hair grew as Myles’ had. “I’m related by marriage. Yancey Livingston.”

  Sherman shook the man’s hand, more than a little relieved that he wasn’t slipping any further away from reality than he already had. His time in the cave, running out of food, so little drinkable water, the bodies starting to break down, to decompose, all that crying, shrieking, babbling… He felt something shift in his mind and then he was back there. So dark, so afraid, where was Ashley?

  “Sherman? Pet?” Myles was tapping his cheek lightly.

  “Um, um, where’s Ash?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  “She’s with her Mum, and I’m here with you, all right?” Myles sounded calm, even. Solid. Sherman nodded, looking around again.

  Everything was back, Myles was here, the big dog had a paw on his knee. The red-headed guy was moving around the kitchen, running water. “Yancey,” he said aloud, and then looked at the dog. “Um, not a dog. Mik Montgomery. Myles’ dad…”

  That toothsome doggie smile was a little disturbing, but Sherman tried to smile back. Remembering a bunch of names was a simple thing, but he felt like he’d passed a college exam or something.

  The smell of coffee filled the air and Yancey pulled a wide bench up beside the third chair. Now Mik, Yancey, Myles and Sherman all sat at the small kitchen table.

  “I brought the paperwork we talked about, Myles,” Yancey said carefully. He looked at Sherman and back to Myles. There were obviously things not being said.

  ****

  Mik glanced over his shoulder as Jacob slipped quietly into the kitchen, automatically pouring five cups of coffee without being asked. He patted Mik’s shoulder and faded back to the sink where he started another pot of coffee.

  “Sherman,” Myles squeezed the blue-eyed man’s wrist, turning toward him. Mik was sure he’d never seen such vibrant blue eyes in his life. Tracey’s were as blue as a summer sky and quite lovely, Philly’s were starbursts, very pretty, but these almost didn’t seem real they were so vivid.

  “Uh, yeah, I’m okay Myles,” Sherman smiled at Myles, sipping the steaming coffee.

  “Ta ducks, but I wanted to ask you summat,” Myles stopped, rolled his eyes, “…wanted to ask you something,” he corrected himself “I like when you ta
lk all English,” Sherman grinned. “Ask away.”

  Mik knew that Myles’ accent broadened, became courser when he was especially uncomfortable. In fact, over the last seventeen years, it had only happened once or twice.

  Although lately, Myles did seem more British than usual—probably because of all the strain he was under. Still, Mik agreed with Sherman, he liked it, too.

  “When you dropped Ashley off and all, when you went over to see Lilith—what had you planned?” The question was cumbersome, general even, but Sherman’s brow wrinkled as he considered it. “You okay to answer that?”

  Sherman shrugged, looking from one face to the next, his gaze resting on Mik’s for a second and then locking with Jacob’s who was standing a few feet away, in the doorframe.

  “I wanted to get clean and then get a nap. I psyched myself up…” he closed his eyes briefly and then turned to look at Myles. “I was going to see Lilith, tell her what had happened and try to reconcile with her. If she refused to take me seriously, I was going to file for a divorce and then go see a psychiatrist or a psychologist.” He looked down at the table, tracing the edge of his coffee mug. “I was going to do it exactly in that order. I knew I couldn’t live…Lilith’s behavior…she didn’t care, she said she did but…it was making me crazy, Myles,” he confessed in a husky whisper.

  Myles’ hand slid up and gripped Sherman’s, releasing it after a quick squeeze.

  Mik glanced over at Jacob and winked. The seer had called it—well, he’d trusted Myles, and so far, had been right on.

  “Sherman, Yancey’s a lawyer,” Myles informed him, angling his head toward Yancey. Yancey nodded with a friendly little smile. “I asked him to draw up some papers for you, just in case…” Yancey held up the manila envelope to show Sherman. “Of course you don’t have to sign anything if you’re not sure,” Myles rushed. “But if you do choose to file for divorce, Yancey and I will go file the complaint, and I’ll go bring the paperwork to her. Or go with the sheriff if need be.”

  “You’d do that?” Sherman looked from Yancey to Myles. “But…she’s a werewolf, Myles,” his face flamed, looking at Mik and back at Myles. “Well, but she’s a real bitch, too.”

  “Don’t worry, pet,” Myles smiled coldly. “Sometimes, I’m pretty rude myself.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Home of Tracey and Tavist Darke

  Darke Woods Road

  Talking Rock, GA

  “Remember when we used to play Barbies out here? The rain pouring down around us, giggling about Myles and Yancey and pretending our Ken and Steve dolls were them?” Ashley had tensed up noticeably when Philly mentioned rain, but she did laugh a little remembering their doll play. “We were so safe in our own little world on the back porch, huh?” Philly went on, twining their fingers together.

  “I wish we could have stayed on the back porch all the time…I mean, instead of growing up.” Ashley’s voice was tight, but the smell of fear had receded some.

  “We-ell,” Philly grinned, elbowing Ashley. She would treat Ashley just the same as always, she decided. “You couldn’t have hot make-up sex with Myles last night if you lived your whole life on the back porch, now could you?” Ashley’s breath had caught and if Philly could see her, she knew she’s see the red blush creeping up her face. “Come on! I can smell it all over you!” Philly chortled.

  “Philomela Livingston!” Ashley snapped. With relief, Philly noticed the laughter in her voice. “Do you remember the difference between Werewolf conversations and Human conversations?” she lectured mock-sternly. “We don’t talk about smell unless it’s a nice new perfume…”

  Philly giggled and leaned her head on Ashley’s shoulder. She’d really missed them being together this way. Their friendship had been so easy, so solid.

  “Okay, so I’m bad. Now give!” Philly insisted, smiling as she heard a movement by the door. “Did you talk to your mom already?”

  “I did,” Ashley said softly. “Mom and Myles had a talk last night, too. I guess we’re all really working together to get our lives back. I really feel like Myles and I have a chance now. We wasted so many years, Phil,” Ashley sighed.

  “You had to go through it, Ash. It’s how we learn what’s important, huh?”

  “I guess,” Ashley agreed reluctantly. “But I don’t want to learn anymore right now. I just want to rest.”

  Philly reached out with her foot and nudged the glider into a little sway. “When I first went blind, I was just… stunned. Then, after awhile, I learned to take it slow. I found out that if I did, I’d realize a lot of things I’d missed before.” Philly leaned back a little, trying to find the right words. “I wouldn’t sign up for what happened to me, Ash. That’s the truth…but I like me a lot better now. I like who I am now that I’ve gotten through all that hard stuff. I like the people in my life and I like what I know about them now that I’ve taken the time to learn. I guess… I just like knowing who I can count on and also, that I can get through the hard stuff and have good things after. I can count on myself…”

  She sighed, shaking her head. “Did any of that make sense or…did it sound like a reject from Chicken Soup for the Confused Person’s Soul?”

  Ashley leaned in and gave her friend a watery kiss on the cheek. “It made sense, Philly. You’re telling me that, even though I’m lost in a house of mirrors, I know who to call to lead me along. At the end, I’m gonna feel good about having made it, and know more about me and them, too.”

  “Uh…I said all that?” Philly deadpanned “Yup, so don’t say anything else, or I’ll get all turned around,” Ashley teased. She reached out and gave the glider a push with her toe.

  Philly smiled. Ashley would get through this…no matter what.

  ****

  “Aunt Tracey!” Kameron wrapped his long arms around his diminutive aunt and twirled her through the kitchen.

  “Kameron Montgomery, you put me down!” Tracey groused, face red, though she was laughing uncontrollably.

  “I just can’t help it, Aunt Tracey,” Kameron kissed her cheek soundly. “Red hair, blue eyes…you’re the perfect woman. I’m just gonna put you in my pocket and take off with you.”

  Tracey rolled her eyes at her tall and handsome nephew, Riker’s son. He looked more like Lakon than Riker with his blond hair and green eyes, though his father was Lakon’s twin and Kameron himself was a twin.

  “Go find yourself a redhead who’ll put up with you, young man, and quit swinging me around the kitchen,” Tracey growled.

  “Ahh, Aunt Tracey, there’s nobody…” his voice cracked and wavered, and Tracey knew their little game was over. Tinka, Kameron’s mate, had died just over a year ago during his birth. It was obvious that everything had just come rushing back. There was a lot of hurt going around.

  She hugged the giant, muscular young man and ruffled his hair like she had when he was the five-year-old she’d first met. “How’s Tinker?” she asked after giving him a few minutes of hiding his face in her hair and regrouping.

  Kameron pulled back, the proud light of fatherhood brightening his eyes. “He’s perfect, Aunt Tracey. So smart, so cute. He’s got his mother’s eyes…” he swallowed and went on. “He can already growl!”

  Tracey laughed, glancing out the window at Ashley and Philly on the back porch glider. “It’s funny the things they do that make us proud, isn’t it?”

  “There’s something about holding your own flesh and blood in your arms,” Kameron looked at her with moist eyes. “There’s just nothing as big as that, huh?”

  Kameron had proved to be an excellent father and Tracey was vastly proud of him. But she didn’t want him to become elitist—even about something as special as being a parent.

  “We all have a destiny of sorts,” she looked over at Philly. The daughter of her heart. There was just so much love in that little girl. She might never have children, but she had so much to offer. “I don’t know if there’s anything bigger,” she offered. “I do know that I’m awfully
glad I have my children, even in spite of their natural father…and I love all my adopted children, just about as much as Elke does, I’d have to say.”

  “I repeat—you are the perfect woman,” Kameron stated staunchly, arms folded over his chest. “I won’t even waste my time looking any further.”

  Tracey threw him a smile, distracted by the site of Myles emerging from the woods; Sherman, Yancey, Mik, and Jacob close behind. One step ahead of her, Kameron opened the door to the porch and Tracey preceded him out.

  She was a little startled when two black wolves, one looking much more scrawny and underfed than the other, rose and stretched in a square of sunlight. She hadn’t known that Rafe and Tayler were out there.

  “Tayler-Puppy!” Kameron boomed, lifting the small collection of fluff and bones and nuzzling his face against the sun-warmed fur. Putting him down again, Kameron turned to Rafe, stroking over his smooth pelt. “How’re you doing, buddy?” he asked.

  “It’s all good,” Rafe responded, butting his head against Kameron’s leg. He was pretty large, especially compared to Tayler.

  “Hey boys!” Riker and Lakon came around the side of the house, moving up the stairs, Tav joining them from somewhere.

  The large home had been added onto over the years though it appeared seamless.

  It was obvious that Tav’s artistry had a great deal to do with the outcome. After he’d added a bathroom for Ashley, he continued to build. By the time he’d stopped, there was a third storey, with a total of seven bedrooms and four bathrooms—and a small two bedroom apartment in the garage and one over it, including two more bathrooms. Tracey had often teased him that he was building for an army.

  In a family like theirs, Tav had reasoned to Tracey, you never knew when you’d need extra space. And although Christopher and Jacob still shared a room when they weren’t on the road, the extra space had certainly come in handy. Add to that, Tracey finally had the kitchen she’d always wanted. The porches, though, while they’d been part of the original house, were easily everyone’s favorite gathering place.