Coyote Blues

by Karen F. Williams

  “No.” Riley looked at her over her menu. “You neglected to mention that interesting fact.”

  The server came to take their orders just then. The rib eye was calling out to Riley. Ever since the turtle incident and witnessing Jim’s abuse, she’d had a horrible craving for red meat. And after giving in to it and grilling steaks yesterday, she’d woken up this morning wanting another. It was as if the coywolf in her was gearing up, gaining strength, wanting to bulk up and slip into predator mode. But she needed to suppress the yearning, keep the human in control. Imagine having to excuse herself to go to the ladies’ room because she was changing into a goddamn werewolf. If it happened in her office it could happen here, she reminded herself. And if it did, she would probably run through the kitchen and grab a raw steak right out of the chef’s hands before dashing off into the woods. “I think I’ll go with the wild-mushroom ravioli,” she said to the server.

  “I was thinking of that, too,” Fiona said, “but I’ll have the brick chicken.”

  “We can share if you like.”

  “Okay.” Fiona smiled. “You feel like sharing a cranberry and goat-cheese salad?”

  “Sounds good.” Riley smiled, and when they were alone again said, “Tell me more about this license.”

  “It’s through the Department of Environmental Conservation. A volunteer position. I took and passed the exam about ten years ago so I could rehabilitate injured turtles and learn more about shell repair.”

  “You mean like turtles hit by cars?”

  “Mostly.”

  “You’ll be happy to know I always stop to help them across the road when I see them.”

  “I’m glad you do, as long as you help them cross in the direction they’re headed.” Fiona said. “Late spring and early summer is a busy time, with turtles moving from their winter ponds to breeding ponds, and then nesting sites. I used to take in a lot. Then I stopped.”

  “You stopped, or Jim made you stop?”

  “Something like that.” Fiona twisted her mouth, stirring her cocktail and poking at the fruit and herbs floating in her glass. “I told you he hates anything that takes time away from him. And I know what you’re thinking. Someone’s self-esteem has to be pretty low to be jealous of a reptile.”

  “But Jim’s not in the picture. We’re in our alternate reality. That tree hit him in the head, remember?”

  Fiona snorted a laugh. “The tree. Right. How could I forget?”

  Riley grinned, trying to keep her upbeat. She didn’t want to miss a single detail of what a happier future might hold in store. “So, go on…what would you be doing to take in more injured turtles?”

  “Bringing in a backhoe and liners to create a couple of small nicely landscaped ponds. Maybe using those turtles who can’t be released back into the wild for educational purposes, like visiting schools. I might even apply for non-profit status, and the homestead could become a sanctuary,” Fiona said, seeming revved up. “And not just for turtles, you know. My license covers all native animals.”

  “Even orphaned coyote pups?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Riley let out a breath of satisfaction. This was a dream worth investing in. “And what about all that unused land? That pasture is enormous.”

  “I know, right?” The salad came, and they both dug in. Feeding Fiona’s imagination seemed to be feeding her appetite. “Everything growing out there was originally planted for grazing—perennial grasses, kale, oats, legumes like alfalfa, clover, and winter peas. There’s even wheat growing on what would be the other side of the fence, if the posts hadn’t rotted and collapsed.”

  “It might be nice to hand the pastures over to a few abused farm animals, wouldn’t it?”

  If it was possible for Fiona’s eyes to get any bigger, they did. “That’s an awesome idea. And I do know a little about cows.”

  “That’s what made me think of it. Didn’t your dad’s parents have a farm in New Hampshire?”

  “Good memory.” Fiona smiled. “And yes, I’d definitely welcome a few rescued cows in need of a home. Even sheep, maybe goats. I’d even take in a couple of pigs, like those poor sows who spend their entire lives in gestational crates. God, it would make me so happy to see them free. That’s the kind of positive energy I’m talking about.”

  Riley felt positive just hearing her talk about it. This was the Fiona she knew and loved, the impassioned dreamer whose eyes sparkled with the promise of the wonderful things she’d be doing if she hadn’t been reduced to being nothing more than someone’s possession—if her life was hers to live. A life that would benefit so many other living things. Riley couldn’t think of a better plan. She just needed to come up with one of her own.

  She drank from her glass, then leaned back and rested her chin in her hand, listening as Fiona’s voice played like a song on her heartstrings. She could see the whole scene coming to life in her head: love and kindness healing the land, sending away the negative energy like a broom sweeping dust into the wind. It would blow away all the badness. The homestead, in apology for past cruelties, would become a sanctuary for the abused and suffering, Fiona and Edy included. Riley felt herself getting as hopped-up as Fiona over the prospect.

  “You don’t like the salad?” Fiona said.

  “Huh? Oh, no, it’s great.” Riley leaned forward. “I was just lost in the dream with you, sitting on a bench by those nicely landscaped turtle ponds, feeling the breeze, watching the cows out in the pasture…a couple of goats mowing the lawn…maybe a rescued border collie keeping everyone in line.”

  “Dogs—yes! Maybe a rescued donkey. They’re very protective and would help the dogs.”

  It was a perfect dream that deserved to come true. Riley would see to it. She just needed to devise a plot to make Jim disappear for good.

  “And injured wildlife could be cared for in one of the other outbuildings. One is spacious enough to be converted into a clinic-type setting with cages and kennels. It already has plumbing in it, although it would need to be heated. And that dilapidated chicken coop? I don’t think you saw it…”

  “No,” Riley lied.

  “With a raised roof and maybe an extension, which I’d build myself, it would make a great aviary for birds…or at least a better chicken coop. I’d have happy chickens and fresh eggs all the time.” Fiona lowered her head and looked up. “And you’d be there, too, of course, helping rescued animals with PTSD.”

  “Ha. I could try.” Riley picked up her fork again and stabbed at the salad. “I don’t know if they’d be such good talk-therapy candidates, but I think love and kindness would heal them fast enough. Animals have an easier time letting go of the past and moving forward than humans do. I think they appreciate the value of the here and now more.”

  Fiona studied her. “Speaking of the here and now, I thought those were our coordinates for the evening.”

  “Our coordinates? What, like space and time on a graph? X axis for here, Y for now?” Riley laughed.

  “Isn’t that what you suggested on the way here? You wanted to stay in the present, but now you have me talking about the future. A fantasy future. So, let’s find here and now on that graph and stay on point. I’d rather talk about your present life…of which I know very little.”

  “You pretty much know all there is to tell.”

  “Do I? I know where you live and what you do for a living. And I’ve met your friends. You’re very blessed to have them. But what about a girlfriend. Do you have one?”

  “No.”

  “Do you date?”

  “Now and then.”

  “Any relationships?”

  “None to speak of.”

  “Seriously?” Fiona looked surprised. “You’ve never fallen in love?”

  “I did. Once. With you.”

  Fiona picked up the napkin in her lap to pat her lips and held it to her mouth for a moment, as though to keep from crying. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault.
”

  “I know. I’m just sorry for everything…for the way things turned out.”

  “Me, too.”

  Dinner came just then, and Riley welcomed the pause in conversation that allowed her to collect herself before she, too, lost it. Riley scooped up a few mushroom ravioli with a spoon and put them on Fiona’s plate.

  “Thanks,” she said, slicing off a piece of her brick chicken for Riley. They were quiet for a few minutes, eating and commenting on how good the food was until Fiona said, “I still find it surprising.”

  “What about?”

  “About you never having been in a long-term relationship. You’re the perfect catch.”

  Riley snorted a laugh. “It might appear that way from the outside, but—”

  “I don’t believe that for a second. You’re forgetting who you’re talking to here. I knew you, Red. I touched your soul, as you did mine. Nothing could ever convince me that you aren’t as beautiful inside as you are on the outside.”

  Riley liked for Fiona to call her Red. It made her go all soft inside. And then it made her gut tighten. She thought about the day they’d first kissed, right after Fiona had seen her initials and called her Red. That led to thoughts of their recent kiss in her office, and suddenly her appetite left her stomach and moved to other parts of her. “Thank you for thinking that, but I’m content being single.”

  “Oh.” Fiona seemed hurt. “You’re saying that even if we’d never been separated, you wouldn’t have stayed in a relationship with me?”

  Riley’s knee began to bounce under the table. “That’s not what I said. It’s hard to explain, Fiona.”

  “You don’t have to. But I do understand how your abandonment issues would lead to a fear of commitment.”

  Riley opened her mouth to object but then shut it, deciding it better to agree. It was a legitimate explanation. And basically true. What person who’d been abandoned by her birth mother, and then by her adoptive parents, wouldn’t struggle with abandonment issues?

  “It’s that, yes, and other things,” Riley said. “A lot of stuff descended on me after I left that summer.”

  “Descended on you? Sounds ominous. What kind of stuff?”

  “Complications. My life got extremely complicated after I left that summer. But now here we go again, falling off those XY axes and getting lost in the past, in those quagmires of the graph paper.”

  Fiona shot her a suspicious sideways glance, then shook her head, as if she knew Riley wanted to drop the subject.

  They’d almost finished dinner when, through the small window by their table, a bolt of lightning flashed in the distant sky. It was dusk, but noticeably darker than it should have been. The sky was gray, the greenery vibrant, almost glowing the way it does before a storm. And then came the first rumble of thunder, along with the server who cleared their plates and left dessert menus.

  “Ever have affogato? It’s delicious,” Riley said.

  “Is that when they pour hot espresso over ice cream?” Fiona traced her finger down the menu and found it there. “Yep. I had it once, years ago in an Italian place. It’s delicious.”

  It was one of Riley’s favorites. If you didn’t eat it fast enough the espresso would melt the ice cream, turning the whole thing into an espresso milk shake, which was perfectly good consumed with a straw. “I make a good one.”

  “Hmm. Another secret I didn’t know about.”

  “Well, I’d be happy to share that particular secret. If you’d like to try beating the storm, we can change our coordinates and head for the peach pie. I’ll make us affogato.”

  Fiona looked at her watch, and Riley glanced at hers. It was only eight thirty, which meant they still had three and a half hours before the clock struck twelve.

  Fiona answered with an assessing stare, and Riley didn’t know if she was seeing fear or desire in those blue eyes. A lot of both, if she had to guess. Inviting Fiona back to her house was probably a bad idea for obvious reasons, but she’d adhere to decorum and behave appropriately. The last thing she wanted was for Fiona to think she intended to make a sexual advance, take advantage of their time alone together because, really, she just wanted to keep her company.

  “We don’t have to,” Riley said when Fiona didn’t answer. “If you prefer, we can have dessert here. Whatever you want. I just thought that, you know, if you wanted to, we could get to my house before the weather gets really bad. That way you’d only have a five-minute drive to pick up Edy later on. Unless you want her with us. If you’d rather do that, we could pick her up on the way and—”

  “You’re rambling,” Fiona said, an amused smirk on her face.

  “Am I?”

  “Uh-huh. You’re cute when you ramble.”

  “I…I just don’t want you to get the wrong impression…or think I’m trying to get you alone.”

  “Alone sounds good. It’s not often that I have a babysitter and Jim out of town at the same time. And I don’t know when I’ll ever get to enjoy time alone with you again. Besides, I want to taste your affogato.”

  “I want to eat your peach,” Riley heard herself say and nervously cleared her throat. “Peaches, I mean…in the pie. Your peach pie,” she stammered.

  Fiona gave her a shy sideways glance and smiled coyly. “I know what you meant,” she said.

  Did she? Were they even talking about dessert? Or had they exchanged a double entendre, countered each other with sexual innuendos? Riley couldn’t tell. Her mounting desire was fogging her brain as fast as the humidity outside was fogging up the window, making it difficult to interpret Fiona’s flirty tone and the suggestive eyes with which she now regarded Riley. The thought of Fiona wanting to seduce or be seduced had her unable to think clearly. She felt stable, though—physiologically speaking. She slipped her hand under the table, feeling her legs for symptoms. No fur. They were silky smooth. No goose bumps, and no sign of a fever. That was good news.

  “You’re adorable when you get nervous. You know that?”

  Riley smiled crookedly. “Am I?”

  “You always were,” Fiona said, staring at her lips. Thunder shook the restaurant. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Riley looked around for the server and motioned for the check. When it came, she snatched it and handed it back with a credit card. Another flash of lightning lit the window. With the storm impending and the clock ticking, she didn’t want to waste a minute.

  The stillness in the air was gone. A fierce wind blew across in the parking lot, its force bending a row of trees back and forth like dancers in a chorus line, and as soon as they stepped off the porch, the first plunks of heavy raindrops hit their heads.

  “Oh, no, here it comes,” Fiona said.

  Laughing, Riley grabbed her hand, and they made a run for the car.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A nearby lightning strike lit up the property as Riley turned into the driveway, the discharge of electricity sending a shock wave so strong the thunderous boom rocked the car. Instinctively, they ducked, then looked at each other wide-eyed and started laughing.

  “Holy shit!” Riley said. How many summer gales had they been caught in as kids—on the lake, in the woods, at the waterfall—when a fast-moving storm blew in, turning fun to fear and getting them to laughing so hard they could barely keep running or paddle to safety?

  “I stupidly left my jacket in my car,” Fiona said.

  “Poor planning on both our parts. I didn’t even bring one.” Riley gestured with a thumb to the back of the car. “And that umbrella I told Peggy I had is way back there in my cargo net.”

  Instead of parking alongside Fiona’s car, Riley pulled up as close as she could to the front door, but the rain was coming down in a torrent now, and even the sprint inside had their hair and shirts soaked.

  “Whew! Let me get you something.” Riley rushed to the linen closet down the hall and came back with a towel. She tossed it to Fiona, smiling at the raindrops running down her face as she blotted her arms and hair. It
was beautiful hair, but Riley didn’t care for it long. The length and fullness somehow weighed Fiona down like everything else in her miserable life did. Riley liked to imagine it short again, layered and gelled and giving Fiona that light, edgy look that had better suited her personality once upon a time.

  “I don’t mind getting caught in summer squalls,” Fiona said. “I actually prefer gardening in the rain. It’s much better than working in the hot sun.”

  Riley liked summer showers, too, especially in fur. If nothing else, she loved the feeling of shaking herself off the way she couldn’t do in human form. “This is a little more than rain. More like a deluge.”

  Fiona stepped up close and began drying Riley’s hair. Even through the towel, Fiona’s touch sent a shiver down her spine. She placed her hands on the short sleeves of Fiona’s wet shirt and ran her hands down her bare arms. They were damp and cold.

  “How about I get us T-shirts, and I’ll throw your blouse in the dryer for a few minutes.”

  “I’m fine, really.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re soaked. So am I. Come on.” Riley took her hand and dragged her down the hall, letting go of it in the doorway and following the pulses of lightning through the dark room and over to a lamp. The room was so big she’d bought a king-size bed just to take up space, but the wood ceilings were low in here, as they were in the kitchen, good for holding in the heat in cold weather. The walls in between the dark beams were painted a cream color. Riley had intended to stick with earth tones when decorating, but then she’d come across drapes she couldn’t resist—giant orange poppies against a brown-and-tan background—and decided to add a little color. An orange-and-cream-striped chair and ottoman sat in a corner beside a stained-glass floor lamp, a cozy place for late-night winter reading when the fire burned out in the living room.