Coyote Blues

by Karen F. Williams

  “I see you still love poppies, huh?” Fiona folded her arms in the doorway and gestured at the drapes with her chin.

  “Ha. I do. I’m surprised you remember. You’d be proud of the ones I grow outside. Dozens. You should have been here in June when they were in bloom.” Riley fished out two T-shirts from the dresser drawer and, with her back to Fiona, pulled off her wet shirt and damp sports bra, and slipped a T-shirt over her head. “Ah, much better,” she said, and when she turned back Fiona was right there, her own shirt unbuttoned and hanging loosely open, looking like she might have been about to touch Riley’s back.

  She handed her a T-shirt, trying to keep her eyes from roaming.

  “Thanks.” Fiona gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

  It was just a peck, a sweet gesture, but it set Riley on fire. Their eyes locked and she swallowed hard. The bed was right there. How easy it would have been to lay Fiona down and take her, love her the way she’d dreamed of loving her again. They weren’t inexperienced teenagers anymore, left to consummate their love on a blanket of pine needles. Fiona had been with other women, and Riley had been with more than she cared to count. She could definitely please Fiona with the skill and confidence she’d lacked twenty years ago—please her the way a man never could. It made her sick to think of Jim’s hands on her. Married or not, he had no right to her body. He didn’t deserve her.

  “You okay?” Fiona asked.

  “Yeah, sure.” Riley cleared her throat and sidestepped her. “I’ll give you privacy and get that espresso going. Bring me your shirt when you’re done, okay?”

  “Oh…okay,” Fiona said, a hint of disappointment in her voice, as though she’d expected something more.

  Riley went to the kitchen, resting her hands against the kitchen counter, and lowered her head. Dessert, not desire, she chanted to herself, struggling to ignore the throbbing between her legs and keep the coywolf in remission. Her fear right now was not that she’d turn into a werewolf if she had sex. It was that she’d turn into one if she didn’t find a physical outlet for this heightened state of arousal.

  Fiona came out then, taking charge of warming two slices of peach pie while Riley put their wet shirts in the dryer and made espresso. It was nice to move around the kitchen together, like it was theirs. And it should have been. Fiona belonged here. She belonged with Riley. Too bad destiny disagreed.

  Riley took a container of vanilla ice cream from the freezer, dug out a scoop for each of the tall, clear-glass coffee cups, then poured steaming-hot espresso over each one.

  She grabbed spoons and forks, and they carried their cups and plates to the dining-room table.

  “I live in a cage…as you know,” Fiona said out of nowhere.

  “I’m painfully aware of that fact.”

  “But right now I feel free as a bird…like someone accidentally left the cage door open and I’m sitting there on that wire, wanting to fly again, but afraid I’ve forgotten how.”

  “Nothing forgets its nature. Birds don’t forget how to fly.”

  “But wings, like the human spirit, weaken and atrophy when immobilized. “

  “Nothing a little physical therapy couldn’t remedy,” Riley said, then caught herself. That sounded like another sexual innuendo. She stared into the sapphire skies of Fiona’s eyes, thinking how much she’d like to fly with her—glide and soar and free-fall through their blue for an eternity.

  Fiona let out a deep sigh, as though exhaling the matter of the cage, and tasted the affogato. It instantly distracted her from her lament, and she perked right up. “This is soooo good. It’s like drinking a thick latte.”

  “You want another shot of espresso in there?”

  “No. It’s nine thirty. Any more and I’ll be awake for the next two days.”

  Riley took a big bite of pie. “Mmm! This is outrageous,” she said. “I went out this morning thinking I’d pick more peaches for you, but there wasn’t a single one left.”

  “The bears?”

  “Mm-hm.” Riley patted her mouth with a napkin. “I wanted to be mad, but then I looked down at the cute pile of pits. I swear, for as big as they are, those bears daintily pick and suck those pits dry—not a single thread of fruit left on them.”

  “Save those pits, and the next time you’re out hiking, plant them here and there. They’ll grow and eventually provide food for wildlife.”

  “And produce actual peaches?”

  “Sure. They’re not like apple and pear trees. Peaches are self-fertile. They pollinate themselves. All you need is one tree.”

  “Hm! I’ll do that,” she said, although next time she was trekking through the woods she probably wouldn’t have pockets. She could carry them in her mouth, though—dig holes with her paws and deposit pits along the way.

  Riley took her last bite of pie, then sat back and patted her stomach. “Oh my God, that was outstanding. I’m beyond impressed with your baking skills.”

  “I used to help my mom bake all the time.”

  “Oh, man…your mom. She would have an absolute fit if she knew I was with you right now, eating a pie she taught you how to make. She’d be calling together a prayer group to cast out the demons.”

  “Most likely,” she said, and they both chuckled.

  Fiona seemed to become lost in thought then, staring at the empty plate and using her fork to push around a stray peach slice that had oozed out of the crust.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Riley whispered. “Or should I say, a peach for your thoughts?”

  Fiona looked up, her smile thin. “I was just wondering…” She looked down at her plate again.

  “What?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “Never mind. It was nothing.”

  It took a woman to understand that when a woman said “nothing,” it always meant something. Riley pressed her. “Tell me.”

  “I just…wondered why you didn’t kiss me back?”

  “In the bedroom?”

  Fiona nodded. “I thought maybe your feelings had changed…now that you know so much about my dysfunctional life.”

  “My feelings for you will never change. Never ever.”

  “Even in spite of our insurmountable obstacles?”

  Riley made a display of looking all around the room. “I don’t see any obstacles right now, do you? Jim’s out of town, Edy’s with Peg and Barb. Unless your mother is struck with a sudden premonition and comes banging on my door with a Bible in one hand and a gun in the other, I’m pretty sure we’re obstacle-free until midnight.”

  Riley glanced at the clock. She had Fiona all to herself for two more hours—Fiona Bell, her one true and impossible love. They might never have this time again. Why the heck were they wasting it chatting? “I was being respectful. That’s all. I didn’t want you to think that I was luring you into my bedroom…or that I was after anything more than the pleasure of your company.”

  “That didn’t seem to be a concern in your office the other week.”

  “I lost my head that day. It was terribly unprofessional on my part, and I—”

  “But you’re not in a professional role right now, and we’re not in your office.” Fiona kept her head lowered, staring at her plate and pushing that slippery slice of fruit around.

  It was gooey, plump and juicy, and Riley watched it sliding around the plate like some kind of visual foreplay. “Are you asking me to eat your peach?”

  Fiona blushed, the corners of her mouth turning up in a smile caught somewhere between flirty and pouty. She speared the peach then and held her fork out across the table.

  “I was being metaphorical,” Riley said, referring to their restaurant banter, but she leaned in and took it with her teeth anyway, pulling it off the fork and holding Fiona’s gaze as she swallowed and licked her lips. “And just so you know, I did want to kiss you back. I’d love to kiss you all over…over and over. But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m doing a stellar job of behaving.”

  “I didn’t ask you to behave.”<
br />
  Riley’s chest swelled, and the ache between her legs returned. “In that case, you know what I’d really like?”

  “What?”

  “To hold you in my arms.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Pushing her chair back, Riley stood and held out a hand. “Come and lie with me for a minute.” It would be a two-hour minute if she had her way.

  Fiona took her outstretched hand and followed her, but when they reached the bed and Riley made a motion to gently pull her down, Fiona stopped and tugged at the hem of Riley’s T-shirt. “Can we at least take these off?”

  Riley’s breath caught, and she raised her arms as Fiona lifted her shirt up and over her head, then pulled off her own. Riley stared at her body, at once familiar and new—the body of a mature woman who’d had a child and was pushing forty, but still toned and as desirable to Riley as it had been at the age of sixteen.

  Riley thought time would slow with Fiona in her arms, that with soft kisses and tender touches would come a deep and quiet exchange of passion. But the second their breasts met, skin on skin, they instantly lost themselves in a euphoric frenzy, two desperate mouths claiming the other in a wild delirium of wrestled lovemaking. Lost in a heated mix of sweat and dripping desire, their hungry moans and promises of pleasure drowned out the storm raging outside. One minute, Fiona was on top of her, and the next she had Fiona on her hands and knees, crying out as Riley brought her to a quick and uncontrolled climax that left Fiona trembling. She collapsed on the bed. Riley stretched out alongside her and brought her lips to Fiona’s ear. “Do you know how many times I’ve touched myself and pretended it was you?” she whispered.

  “Probably as many times as I’ve imagined you.” Fiona pushed Riley onto her back and slid between her legs, kissing every inch of skin as she slowly moved down to hungrily claim her engorged center and the hard erection that begged for relief.

  Feeling Riley’s release aroused Fiona all over again. She crawled up Riley’s body then, straddling her waist and looking down at her. Lightning flooded the room, illuminating the lust and longing in those sky-blue eyes, as she felt Fiona’s renewed desire spill itself all over her stomach. She smiled up at Fiona seductively, adoringly, and ran her hands over Fiona’s breasts. “I don’t think you’re done,” Riley whispered, grabbing Fiona’s hips with wolf-like strength and pulling her up to her mouth. Fiona’s groans turned to a gasping sob as she climaxed a second time and collapsed again.

  * * *

  “Geez, Red…” Fiona’s breathing slowed, and she ran a hand through her damp hair as Riley came back into the room and handed her a cold bottle of water. “I don’t know what you did to me…but you’ve certainly learned a few tricks over the years. Riley smiled down, and Fiona marveled at her lithe and naked body—the tan lines on her sun-kissed skin, her golden hair and amber eyes…a beautiful study in earth tones. She sat up, taking a long drink, then flopped back down. “I feel like we just played an X-rated game of Twister.”

  “We did. Now twist yourself over here,” Riley said, climbing back in bed and gathering Fiona in her arms. She nibbled the side of Fiona’s face, dragging her bottom lip up to Fiona’s ear. “That was the best peach ever…way better than the ones in the pie. And those were delicious,” Riley murmured.

  “You’re embarrassing me.” Fiona hid her face in the crook of Riley’s neck and kissed the skin there. “You know how modest I can be.”

  “After all that?” Riley laughed softly. “It’s a little late for modesty.”

  Fiona laid her face on Riley’s breast. Somewhere in the middle of their lovemaking the storm had passed. There was only the soft patter of rain now, distant rumbles of thunder, and the sound of Riley’s heart against her ear—until the loud buzzer of the dryer startled them both, and they cracked up.

  “Oh, no…” Riley grumbled. “Did I forget to take those shirts out—like an hour ago? I hope yours didn’t shrink.”

  “Me, too. I’d hate to show up at Dr. Spencer’s house with a shirt too small to button. Let’s hope it’s still big enough for me to wear home.”

  Home…it was supposed to be where the heart is, wasn’t it? For twenty years her heart had been undomiciled. And now it had found its way home to Riley. It would always be with her. And with Edy, of course. Everything else, except for Gomez and Morticia, she could leave behind and never look back. But it wasn’t an option. Fiona pushed the thought away, choosing to savor the precious present, stick to the coordinates. Reality would blow her off course soon enough.

  Fiona propped herself on an elbow, gazing dreamily at Riley, and leaned to run her lips across Riley’s forehead, her fingers through that summer-blond hair now damp from their shared exertion. “I’ve fallen in love with you all over again,” she said, trailing a finger down the freckles on her nose. Fed by the sun, one by one they’d disappear come winter.

  “Again?” Riley smiled. “Does that mean you fell out of love along the way?”

  “No. It’s more like falling in love with you on top of being in love with you. I’ve never given myself completely to anyone but you, Red.”

  Riley turned on her side, tucking an arm beneath her pillow, and faced her. “Not even Jim?”

  “He’s never had me. My body, maybe, but nothing else. When I’m with him my mind is a million miles away. It’s how I cope.” She brushed her thumb across Riley’s mouth, letting it play along the lines of her lips. “I’ve given myself to women, physically and emotionally, but never like this. You’re the only one who’s ever had all of me—mind, body, and soul.”

  “Ditto,” Riley said, tracing circles on Fiona’s shoulder and sending shivers up her spine. “Except that I don’t have a soul anymore. You were the one thing that fed it…you were the spring that feeds the river. When you disappeared my soul just dried up…died of starvation.”

  “I didn’t disappear, Riley. It was you who left and never came back.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she paused to choke back the feelings. “You still haven’t told me why your parents picked up and left without a word to anyone. All I remember is a for-sale sign going up two weeks later. My whole world crumbled.”

  “It wasn’t my parents, Fiona. They left because of something that happened to me.”

  “To you? Tell me what it was. I need to know.”

  “I…I got sick, Fiona.”

  “Sick how?”

  “I can’t explain it, really. I…I developed some physical problems.”

  “After we had sex that day?”

  “That night, yes.”

  Whatever was wrong had obviously gotten better. Riley looked to be in excellent health. But still, her family suddenly leaving and selling the place because of an illness? It just didn’t make sense. “Stop being so mysterious. Talk to me.”

  “It’s hard to talk about.”

  “Do you have some sort of medical condition?” And when Riley didn’t answer, Fiona frowned. “We used to tell each other everything. I was your confidante. It made me feel special.”

  “You are special.”

  “Then why are you being so vague? And what was all that talk in the restaurant about ‘complications descending upon you’? Tell me the truth.”

  “Ah…the truth…let’s see. “Riley turned onto her back and looked up at the wood ceiling. “Well, after we made love—not tonight, but that first time in the woods—I turned into a werewolf.”

  “What?” Fiona laughed halfheartedly at the absurdity, but Riley’s ill-timed joke made her mad—angry that Riley still didn’t trust her enough to tell the truth. “Wow. A werewolf, huh?”

  “In the generic sense, yes. A lycanthrope. A werecoyote, more specifically.”

  “A coyote! Nice, Red. Well, at least whatever happened hasn’t affected your sense of humor.” Riley’s refusal to be forthcoming was beyond frustrating. It was downright insulting. Hurtful. “I’m trying to be serious here, Riley, to understand the things that changed the course of our lives…and all you want to do is make
a joke of it.”

  “What if it weren’t a joke?”

  With an aggravated huff, Fiona rolled onto her back, away from Riley, and stared up at the ceiling with her. “If you can’t be honest, just say so.”

  “I am being honest.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Not whatever. Wereever. As in werecoyote. Get it?” Riley turned her head on the pillow, flashing a stupid smile that made Fiona more upset. But she kept quiet, trying to be patient. Whatever had happened must have been awful, too horrific to talk about, so she gave up. “Okay, so we made love that day, then you went home and turned into your spirit animal—like the coyote I carved for you.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I see. Thanks for clarifying. Actually, that story sort of makes sense—more sense than any other scenario I’ve been able to come up with over the years,” Fiona said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes, shook her head on the pillow and sighed. “Did your parents see you turn into a werewolf—excuse me, a werecoyote?”

  “Yep. It happened late that night on the dock. That’s why we left so abruptly. My parents totally freaked out.”

  “Understandable,” Fiona said, playing along.

  “I think they thought that if they got me away from nature and back to the city—away from the lake and woods or any place resembling werewolf habitat—it wouldn’t happen again.”

  “You know, for a therapist, you sure do have a tough time communicating.”

  “I am communicating.”

  “You’re not. You’re humoring me.”

  “Humor happens to be one of the more higher-level defense mechanisms employed to avoid conflict and diffuse anxiety.”

  “You used to be an open book.”

  “You don’t want to read this book. It’s a horror story.”

  “Then I’m sorry for prying. I was only hoping to find the missing piece to our story.”

  “That is the missing piece—my lycanthropic affliction.”

  “Right.” This conversation was going nowhere. “So you turned into a were-whatever and what? Savagely killed and ate your parents, I suppose. That actually would explain why the whole Dawson family suddenly disappeared without a trace. But wait, I did call and speak to your parents those few times, so you couldn’t have eaten them.”