Coyote Blues

by Karen F. Williams

  “Clamps? For what, gluing the wood?”

  “No glue. They’re just great for holding things in place while you’re working. I can drop off a bunch for Riley to bring to you. In fact, I can lend you my jig, too.”

  “That’s so generous,” Barbara said. “But I don’t want to borrow your stuff. You might need it.”

  “I don’t use any of it. Unfortunately, I don’t do much woodworking anymore.” And then that sparkling wave crashed. Fiona’s brilliant blue eyes darkened again, her spirit sucked back down into the depths of that lightless ocean.

  * * *

  Barbara liked Fiona. A lot. And she knew Peggy, whether she’d admit it or not, was enjoying her company, too. Aside from their good friends Gwen and Samantha, in the neighboring town of Stockbridge, she and Peg didn’t know too many female couples. It was too bad Riley and Fiona weren’t free to be together. Looking at them sitting side by side now, it occurred to Barbara that, in the past two decades, she’d never seen Riley with a woman. There’d been many, but the closest she and Peg had come to meeting any was seeing pictures on a phone. They’d spent evenings with Riley, laughing over her disastrous dates and getting reports on the more favorable ones. Other than that, she had no one.

  Riley had been single for so long that it took seeing her with Fiona to fully realize how lonely in love Riley must be. Sure, she had her family of friends, but it wasn’t the same as having a partner. Barbara couldn’t imagine not sharing a life with Peg all these years. How nice it would have been if things had been different for Riley—if her DNA hadn’t betrayed her, if those canine genes had stayed dormant as they had for the first seventeen years of her life, and if she and Fiona had made a life together. The chemistry between them was obvious, as was the look of adoration in Riley’s eyes every time Fiona spoke.

  Barbara had never pitied Riley, but tonight she did. And she pitied Fiona even more. Riley might have lived a solitary life, but unlike Fiona, at least she didn’t have to go home to that controlling and abusive fucker who’d tried to torture that poor turtle just to make his wife suffer. The thought made her so angry that when a mosquito landed on her bare leg, she slapped it so hard she hurt herself.

  Tom laughed and slapped one on his arm, though hardly with as much force. “They’re biting me, too,” he said. It was after eight and getting dark, and although the fan had done a good job earlier, the mosquitoes were coming out in swarms.

  Peggy stood up and began collecting plates. “Let’s take this party inside before they eat us alive.”

  “Good idea,” Riley said. “I’ll make coffee.”

  Riley insisted that the reverend and Fiona sit and relax in the living room while the rest of them put food away. Barbara got out cups, and plates for dessert, all the while listening to David and Fiona talk about religion in the living room. What with Fiona’s father being a minister, the two had a lot in common, and by the time Barbara called them into the dining room, they were too absorbed in conversation to hear her. Barbara raised her voice and called them again.

  “Coffee’s ready,” she said, peeking in at them, but it was the sudden howling and yipping of coyotes that got everyone’s attention. The unexpected cacophony was so loud everyone stopped talking and glanced toward the open front door to see a whole pack looking in at them from behind the cars.

  “Wow!” the reverend said, clearly fascinated.

  “Don’t worry,” Riley assured him. “They won’t come closer.”

  “Closer?” He laughed quietly, then whispered, “They’re practically at your door!”

  “It’s okay,” Riley said. “They’re mine.”

  “Yours?” He seemed astonished.

  “Well, see the lightest-colored one? That’s Widget. I raised her after her parents and siblings were killed…most likely by Dennis Barrett, Fiona’s uncle.”

  “Not my uncle!” Fiona said, as though appalled to be associated with him. “He was my husband’s uncle. And I hope these stay on your property because…I’m really ashamed to say this…but Jim is already getting ready for the trapping season.”

  “I’m not happy to hear that,” Riley said, although Barbara knew she was already well aware of Jim’s intentions. “My land here is this pack’s core territory, but they travel a few square miles, usually to hunt for mice on the land that separates my property from yours.”

  Fiona looked at Peggy. “I’m thinking of Edy’s imaginary coyote friend. Maybe it’s not imaginary. If they come this close to Riley’s door, is it possible that one would actually sit outside Edy’s bedroom window?”

  “Who knows,” Riley said. “Other packs are around. These guys here know me, but I doubt a coyote would approach a stranger like Edy.” Riley gestured with her chin. “Go on. See how close you can get to the door without them running.”

  Fiona’s face lit up. “They’re so beautiful.” She crept to the screen door, but as soon as they caught her scent, saw her face through the screen, and realized it wasn’t Riley’s, they scattered into the trees.

  “Amazing,” David whispered. “God bless you, Riley, for being kind and sharing your land. I’ve never understood why people hate them so much. They’re not the dangerous, blood-thirsty predators people make them out to be. They’re just out there trying to make a living like all the rest of us.”

  “Amen,” Barbara said. She knew that as soon as company left, Riley would cut up the leftover steak for them.

  And Fiona was the first to leave. She hurried through coffee and dessert, keeping an eye on the clock. Barbara got the feeling that living with Jim had her accustomed to accounting for every minute of her time away from home. When she left to pick up Edy, everyone, including Peggy, stood to give her a hug. As Riley walked her to the door, Barbara followed to fetch the coffee pot in the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry plans changed with Edy’s friend,” Barbara overheard Fiona say to Riley in the mudroom. “I was really looking forward to dinner alone with you.”

  “It’s okay,” Riley said. “We’ll take Edy with us.”

  “Really? You wouldn’t mind? It would have been nice to spend an evening out, having an adult conversation, but if you’re okay with Edy coming, then…”

  Barbara paused with the coffee pot in her hand, knowing she shouldn’t do what she felt compelled to. She’d have to hear it from Peggy later, but she didn’t care. After being separated for twenty years, they deserved at least one night together without dragging the kid along. “I don’t mean to eavesdrop, ladies,” she said, “but when were you planning to go out for dinner?”

  Riley hesitated. “Tomorrow. But please, Barb, don’t tell Peg.”

  “Not only will I tell her, but she and I will babysit Edy if you trust us with her. I hear she’s a great kid.”

  Riley and Fiona’s mouths opened in clear surprise.

  “I don’t know, Barb.” Riley kept her voice down so Peggy wouldn’t hear. “This is going to cause a big problem between Peg and me.”

  “It’s my problem. Let me handle my wife. It’ll be fine. Edy will be safe with us. And she’ll have fun playing with the dogs.”

  Riley smiled and turned to Fiona. “Would that be all right?”

  “Sure. I mean, I…I trust you,” Fiona said to Barbara, “but I can’t impose like that.”

  “No imposition. What time do you need to drop her off?”

  Riley looked between them, seeming shocked by the offer and obviously worried at how Peggy would react when Barbara broke the news to her later on. “I don’t know…let’s say six o’clock? I can make reservations for seven.”

  Fiona shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Perfect. Edy can have dinner with us. And I’ll get to show Fiona where I want to build my breakfast nook…maybe get some expert advice.” Barbara looked between the two of them and grinned. “I’m not without ulterior motives, you know.”

  “Absolutely!” Fiona said. “I’d love to see what you want to do and how much space you have for it. In fact, I’ll dig out that jig
and those clamps and bring them with me.”

  Good. It was all set. Riley grabbed a flashlight by the door and headed out to walk Fiona to her car. Barbara carried the coffee pot to the table. All she needed to do now was find the right time to tell Peg they were going to babysit Edy tomorrow night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Whatever kind of magic Barbara had worked on her wife, Riley was grateful for it. All day long she’d worried about seeing Peggy, mostly about having to look her in the eye, but when they dropped Edy off at six o’clock, the only thing Peggy’s eyes locked on was the home-baked peach pie Fiona handed her. Peggy lifted the offering to her nose, her thanks coming in the form of a moan. “I knew I bought vanilla ice cream for a reason.” She winked at Edy, then turned to take the pie into the kitchen. “We’d save you a slice,” she called back to Riley, “but unfortunately there won’t be any left by the time you two get back.”

  “That’s all right. Fiona made me my own pie.”

  “Oh, good!” Peggy said as she came back. “Then I’ll be sure to stop by tomorrow and help you eat that one, too.”

  Sharing her pie was the least she could do. She owed Peggy big-time. Whether she’d have to hear it from her tomorrow was another story, but right now she didn’t want to think about it. A dinner date with Fiona was worth the consequence of any reprimands and lectures that might follow. And they probably would. But right now, Riley was determined to exist only in the here and now. For one evening she wanted to pretend that they were a couple. A normal couple. That she was normal and Fiona was her wife; that ten years ago Jim had spontaneously combusted and fizzled out of existence. She imagined that Edy was their daughter, being dropped off to stay with her two aunts, Peg and Barb, while her two moms enjoyed a romantic dinner. Was that too much to ask for? It was a wholesome and wonderfully mundane fantasy, a simple make-believe scenario of the ordinary life people took for granted. And it seemed Edy would have been happy to live that fantasy.

  The prospect of spending the evening at Dr. Spencer’s house had Edy ecstatic, and having Black Jack and Peanut greet her only added to her delight. She dropped to her knees, letting the dancing chihuahuas inspect and wash her with kisses. Riley watched the enchanted expression on the kid’s face as she marveled over her surroundings.

  “This is where you live, Dr. Spencer?” Edy asked.

  “Yep. This is it.”

  “I love it here. Your house is very pretty.”

  Peggy clasped her hands together. “Why, thank you, Edy. But just so you know, no one I see in my office comes here, so I hope this can be our secret.”

  “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

  Kids were typically terrible at keeping secrets. They might be well-intentioned when promising to keep one, and then just as fast they’d turn around and tell on you. But Edy was exceptional that way; keeping secrets seemed to be a learned survival tactic, a way of controlling and navigating the oppressive life she and her mother were forced to live.

  Riley looked around for Fiona. Barbara had pulled her into the kitchen the moment they arrived. She could hear them talking in there now, excitedly discussing ideas for that breakfast nook Barbara was intent on building.

  Riley checked her watch. “Barb? Fiona? We need to get going.” It was six thirty, and they needed twenty minutes to get to Great Barrington.

  On their way out the door, Peggy took hold of Riley’s arm and held her back. “Look at me. It’s all right. I’m not angry.” She regarded Riley with what seemed a sympathetic kindness. “Am I concerned, conflicted, worried to death? Absolutely. But I’m not mad…anymore.” Peggy took a deep breath and sighed. “Relax and have a good time, okay? Barb convinced me, beyond my better judgment, that you two deserve this one evening. One evening,” she emphasized, then let go of her arm. “Just make sure you’re back by twelve.”

  “Twelve?” She’d expected Peggy to impose a nine o’clock curfew. A two-hour dinner alone with Fiona was more than she’d hoped for. “You’re giving us until midnight?”

  “Yeah, Cinderella. Midnight. I’m feeling generous.”

  But Fiona was really Cinderella. Five hours from now the clock would strike twelve, the coach would turn back into a pumpkin, the horses into coyotes instead of mice, and Riley herself might turn along with them. She wanted to stay in the present and not think about it. The past, the future—none of it would spoil their date tonight.

  “Do you need an umbrella?” Peggy called after them.

  “Got one in the car,” Riley said.

  “We’re expecting storms late tonight.”

  Riley held her arms out. “I can feel them coming.” It had been humid all day, the air heavy and strangely still, like it was quietly waiting for something big to happen. It was perfect mosquito weather, and they were still out in full force. Even the coyotes, driven nearly insane by the parasites’ incessant harassment, had resigned themselves to a lazy afternoon in the cool, bug-free garage. She’d left them there with food and a bowl of ice water.

  By the time they arrived at the Prairie Whale, the air was even thicker. The farm-to-table restaurant was situated in an old house set back on Main Street. With its covered porch it looked like a pioneer saloon that had hitched a ride into the twenty-first century. But aside from the antique light fixtures, wide-planked floors, and original wood walls purposely exposed during renovations, it had an upscale and contemporary vibe that made it popular with the younger crowd. Several dining rooms were located around the central bar. The hostess led them to a cozy window table away from the noise and lit the candle before she disappeared.

  “The Prairie Whale,” Fiona commented as she looked around. “That’s sort of an oxymoron, isn’t it, considering whales don’t live in prairies and we’re nowhere near the ocean.”

  “That was my first question when they opened. It was a name given to hogs during the 1800s, when whale oil became scarce and lard oil from pigs became an alternative source of lighting.”

  “Huh!” Fiona looked around. “It’s a great place,” she said as their server came with cocktail and dinner menus. “Any suggestions?”

  “Everything’s good. Locally and humanely sourced. If you want to start with cocktails, I highly recommend the strawberry-basil margarita.”

  “Yeah? Then let’s try it.”

  They kept the conversation light for a few minutes, talking about Fiona’s ideas for Barbara’s kitchen project and about Edy getting ready to start a new school year this week, but when their drinks came, Riley changed topics. “So, tell me something.”

  “Anything…but, please, Riley, let’s not talk about Jim.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.” Riley was interested only in knowing what kind of life Fiona would be living without him in the picture. “I want to talk about your dreams.”

  “My dreams?” Fiona heaved a sigh. “I don’t dream anymore. Thinking about the things I’d love to do gets really depressing. I mean, dreams should be functional and serve as inspiration, shouldn’t they? Isn’t that the point of dreaming—to make you want something so much you find a way of turning it into a reality? But when fantasy has no function, when the dream can’t be realized, well…thinking about it is just a waste of time. A stressful waste of time.”

  Fiona was right, of course. Having impossible dreams, dwelling on things you couldn’t have, wasn’t exactly endorphin-producing. Let your mind entertain thoughts of unattainable desires for too long and you’d become a doomed captive of your own imagination. But Riley intended to free the captive, which was why it was important to explore Fiona’s desires, to visualize the dreamscape of her imagination. Before Riley came up with a plan and laid her life on the line, she wanted to know what dreams she was about to make come true—in case things backfired and she wasn’t around to see them bloom into a wonderful reality.

  “After I lost you, all I had were dreams,” Fiona said. “They were a nice distraction from reality, until they became too painful. But this reality—actually sit
ting here with you in the flesh—is better than a dream. So let’s enjoy it. Besides, on the way here you said that you wanted us to be present in the moment.”

  “I know what I said, but let’s pretend that Jim is presently no longer in the picture…that a tree fell over and knocked his head off. That you and Edy have the homestead to yourselves.”

  Fiona laughed. “Now that’s a nice dream.”

  “Well, then?” Riley smiled. “Go on…tell me. What would you be doing with all that land right now?”

  “Hmm…what would I be doing…” Their drinks came, and Fiona poked at the muddled strawberries and fresh basil with a stirrer. “Part of me would want to sell that place and get as far away as possible. You haven’t been in the barns, but the smaller one was a wildlife mortuary. I can’t stand being in there. I sense this lingering feeling of dread and death, a negative energy that suffocates me. It’s hard to explain, but when I walk in—and I try not to—I experience the fear and pain of all the animals Dennis dragged in there. I know it sounds stupid but—”

  “It’s not stupid.” I felt it, too, Riley wanted to say, but she couldn’t.

  “But then I think that filling that space with positive energy might have a healing effect, you know?”

  “Like how?”

  “Well, for instance, one of those outbuildings would make a really nice woodworking shop. And the smaller barn would make a great showroom opened to the public.”

  “So you’d be making and selling furniture?”

  “The land is commercially zoned, so yeah. I think I’d do that.” Fiona sipped her drink. “This is really good, by the way. Sweet and savory at the same time.”

  That was Fiona, sweet and savory, and Riley wanted to drink every drop of her. She nodded, keeping the thought to herself, and drank from her own glass. “What kind of furniture?”

  “Nature-inspired dining tables, bookcases, rocking chairs,” she said over the menu. “You know I love making headboards, too…and then there’d be the smaller pieces, like coatracks, turtle stools…” Fiona’s voice drifted off, and she seemed dreamy for a moment. “But what I think would really bring positive energy to the place is…well…did I tell you I have a wildlife rehabilitators’ license?”