Coyote Blues

by Karen F. Williams

  * * *

  After dropping Edy off and meeting Oliva’s parents, Fiona took Riley to the Greek restaurant by her office. The place was quiet, pretty much empty at this early hour, and the Mediterranean atmosphere was cozy. Strands of dried grapevines interwoven with twinkly lights hung along the dark beams of the low, angled ceilings, and on the wall beside their candlelit table was a mural depicting the Aegean Sea, the island of Crete, and a grove of olive trees.

  Throughout dinner, Riley was consumed by desire too deep to ignore, and judging from the way Fiona seductively looked at her over her wineglass, she had similar feelings. But Fiona also had to be aware of Riley’s growing ambivalence. It had become almost palpable over the past few weeks. Riley avoided all romantic overtures, and Fiona, perhaps thinking Riley was being respectful—giving her and Edy the space and time to regroup, to find that “new normal”—hadn’t questioned her behavior. But life with a shape-shifter would never be normal. Romanticizing the idea of spirit animals, attributing beastly traits to your lover, was a cute-enough sentiment, but having your lover confess that she really was said animal? That would seriously diminish the cute factor.

  Of course, Riley had confessed on that summer night they’d made love. And how had Fiona reacted? With disbelief and outright annoyance that Riley would spoil a serious conversation with stupid lycanthropic jokes.

  “How was Thanksgiving with Peggy and Barbara?” Fiona asked as they ate.

  “Nice. Lots of people this year. Peg’s parents drove up in their RV, and Barb’s parents flew in from Palm Springs. Tom and David were there, too. They’ve become an item.”

  “Really! That’s great. Not surprising, though. I noticed the way they looked at each other when we were all at your house. I like Tom a lot, and I was particularly drawn to the reverend. I sense something sagely about him…a kind of profound wisdom that came through when we were talking about religion that night. In fact, I’d like to start attending his church. Lord knows I won’t be welcome in my own much longer.”

  Riley asked about her parents, about how the family and the congregation were coming to terms with Jim’s accidental death, and how Fiona and Edy were coping with it all. Riley listened more than she talked.

  How exciting it would be to tell Fiona that she’d found a member of her own biological family, that Reverend Cortez was her brother? She wanted so much to share the astounding news, but she couldn’t without telling the whole story.

  “I guess I’ve missed a lot in the past five days,” Fiona said. “I’ve missed you, too. Terribly.” She swirled the last of the wine in her glass, about to drink it, but when Riley didn’t respond she set her glass back down. “What’s going on, Red? You want to talk about something?”

  “Actually,” Riley said, steering the conversation in the opposite direction, “I want to talk about gift ideas for Edy. Her birthday is right before Christmas. I need two presents and have no idea what to get an eleven-year-old.”

  Riley had done most of her holiday shopping while Fiona was away. Waiting in her garage were two sit-on-top kayaks with big red bows for David and Tom. She’d picked them up at Dick’s Sporting Goods yesterday and hauled them home in the back of the Subaru. For Peggy and Barbara, she’d bought the farmhouse-style chandelier they’d been admiring at a specialty lighting store in town, thinking it would look great hanging over that kitchen nook Fiona was planning to help Barbara construct.

  She was half done buying Fiona’s gifts, too. While window-shopping during lunch last week she had wandered into the shop of an artesian jeweler who made origami necklaces: single strips of solid gold folded into all sorts of inch-long animals, then lightly melted to keep the creatures from unraveling. Riley had commissioned an origami turtle, which now waited in a black velvet box. And since Fiona and Barbara were spending time talking about woodworking, Riley had assigned Barbara to find out, in a roundabout way, what new tools Fiona might want.

  “Edy’s such a nerd,” Fiona said with a roll of her eyes. “I can recite her wish list: a denim jacket, jeans, hiking boots; a ‘better pair’ of binoculars; a ‘good’ microscope; and a lizard. I’ve gotten everything except the lizard, which can wait until next year. And don’t worry about buying anything. You can have the binoculars to give her.”

  “I’ll get the lizard.”

  Fiona waved a hand. “They’re too expensive.”

  “What does a lizard go for?”

  “It’s not just any lizard. She wants a blue-tongued skink. I’d buy a captive-bred baby only from a breeder—never a wild-caught animal—and have it delivered overnight. But one could go for two hundred dollars. Even more. They’re pretty cool, though. Super mellow. If you want a large lap-lizard that enjoys having its head scratched, they’re it.”

  “Are their tongues really blue?”

  “Neon blue. But they get big. She’d need a large tank, a stand, UVB lights, and—” Fiona waved a hand. “It’s way too much.”

  “No. It’s perfect. We’ll go to Petco. You can help me pick out all the right equipment and stuff. That’ll be her birthday present. On Christmas Eve she’ll get the skink. But you better start looking online for one now, before they sell out. I’ll give you my credit card when we get home.” Had she just said that? Home, as in their home?

  “Don’t worry about them selling out. Something tells me blue-tongued skinks are not on the top-ten list of trending gifts for tweens this year. I’ll start looking though.” Fiona drained her glass and shook her head at Riley. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  “I’m thinking that skink is going to be pretty amazing. I wish I had a neon blue tongue. It’d be a big hit with the ladies, don’t you think?”

  A frown tugged at the corners of Fiona’s mouth, and with a dismissive shake of her head she said, “I don’t know about a big hit. I think your blue tongue would be more of a medical emergency.”

  Riley laughed, and when the check came Fiona snatched it. Riley watched, longing to kiss her, desperate to touch her. She was crazy to think a platonic arrangement would ever work.

  When they got back to the house, Fiona cranked up that come-hither look she’d had throughout dinner. Without Edy around, Riley had no excuse for keeping her distance. What could she possibly do to diffuse the sexual tension and skirt a seduction? Tell Fiona it was late and she was tired? It was only seven thirty. She could blame her lackluster on having eaten too much. I’d love to have sex but I’m just too full might work, although it seemed an asinine thing to say.

  “More wine?” Fiona asked.

  Riley smiled crookedly and patted her gut. “Uh…I’m stuffed, but…sure, maybe half a glass.”

  “A cup, not a glass. Look what I got today.” Fiona dug through her bag and pulled out a small box. “Mulling spices. I was thinking of hot mulled wine. It’s nice on a cold night like this.” She parted her lips, the tip of her tongue slowly tracing the upper one as she stepped close and trailed her fingers down Riley’s neck, making tiny circles in the V of her open shirt.

  Feeling Fiona’s touch, gazing into her eyes, made her willpower wane. Damn, she looked sexy. And damn did she ever smell good. Her perfume alone was driving Riley crazy, and she hoped those mulling spices would be strong enough to overpower Fiona’s fragrance. Their eyes seemed to be involuntarily conversing, and Riley stopped the conversation by breaking their stare and gazing at Fiona’s hair instead. I really do love your cut.”

  “I thought you would,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. “Why don’t you start a fire?”

  “A fire?” Riley feigned a yawn, but Fiona ignored it.

  “Yes. A fire would be nice. I have some music, too. I made a new playlist I think you’ll like.”

  “Oh. Great.” Riley rubbed her hands together. She didn’t know what else to do with them. “What kind of music?” she asked, walking into the living room.

  “Some holiday songs, but mostly just some nice winter music. Do you remember kd lang’s song ‘Barefoot’? The one where she howl
s like a wolf?”

  “Wasn’t that from a movie?”

  “It was. And then I discovered the most magical rendition of ‘Let it Snow’ that I’ve ever heard.”

  “Who by?”

  “Filous. It’s downtempo, incredibly romantic.”

  This was a recipe for seduction. While the wine was simmering on the stove, Fiona was quick to start the music. Riley took her time making a fire, lighting only one log in hopes it would burn out before the two of them caught fire, so to speak. She would drink the wine as fast as she could, then pretend to be falling asleep. That was the plan.

  Fiona came back with two hot cups of mulled wine decorated with cinnamon sticks and orange slices perched on the rims. She was as good as Martha Stewart at always making things look appealing. She always had been, even as a teenager. “Nice presentation,” Riley said.

  “Thanks. And it’s really good.” Fiona set the glass cups on the table, then kicked off her shoes and curled up on the couch, patting the seat beside her. One month without Jim, and she seemed like a whole new person—her old self, really—attentive, surprisingly assertive, a woman who knew what she wanted. And she wanted Riley tonight. That much was clear.

  “Let it Snow” came on as Riley put the screen in front of the fire and sat down beside her. She had to agree that this was the most dreamy and romantic version of the song she’d ever heard. She stirred her wine with the cinnamon stick, sipping it slowly and blowing into the cup to cool it and stall for time. She was completely lost for how to handle the quandary she’d created in leading Fiona on. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had mulled wine, but this is wonderful.”

  “So are you.” Fiona touched her shoulder, her smile as sly as that of a poker player who’d just raised the ante but had yet to reveal her hand. Riley got the impression that Fiona knew something she didn’t and immediately felt at a disadvantage. She looked away, staring at the fire blazing on the hearth, thankful for the sound of the crackling logs and the music filling the silence.”Let’s talk,” Fiona said. “Not about Edy or Christmas. We need to discuss you, Red.”

  Red…Riley felt like the awkward teenager she had been, secretly in love with Fiona Bell but scared to show it. “What about me?”

  “Things have changed between us in the past few weeks. You don’t seem yourself.”

  Riley snorted a nervous laugh and gulped her wine. “I haven’t been myself in twenty years, Fiona.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t want to get into it right now.”

  “I do.”

  “My life is complicated.”

  “You said that once before. It’s strange, though, because from the outside your life seems anything but complicated.”

  “Well, you’re not inside it.”

  “I thought I was…I’d like to be.” Fiona held her cup in both hands and sipped.

  “I love you, Fiona, but…the years have changed me. I’m…I’m not marriage material anymore.”

  “No?”

  “Trust me when I say you can do a lot better than me.”

  “Better than you? Oh, I don’t think so.”

  Riley glanced over to see that same sly smile. Something about it knocked her off balance. It was beginning to irk her. It was widening, too, and Fiona had to bite her bottom lip to keep it from spreading across her entire face. “You don’t know the half of it, Fiona.”

  “Actually, I do, sweetheart. I know the whole thing.” A gentleness permeated her voice, an almost sympathetic understanding, and when she felt Fiona’s hand rubbing her back, she thought she might fall apart. She swallowed hard, opening her mouth to speak, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say because she wasn’t certain they were talking about the same thing.

  Fiona set her cup on the table and turned to face her. “I know what you are,” she said, her smile more tender. “How ironic that I chose a coyote as your spirit animal when I whittled that keychain. It seemed like a no-brainer at the time…your coloring, the odd similarities between you and a…Jesus, Riley, I…I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t want sympathy. I’m well past appreciating pity.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m not sorry for what you are. I’m sorry you went through it alone…that I was always so close and yet so far. And I’m so sorry I wasn’t listening, really listening, when we were in bed together this summer and you told me the truth about why your family had taken off. I thought you were just acting stupid, humoring me, shutting me out because you didn’t trust me enough to be honest. That hurt. I got annoyed.” Fiona smoothed her hand lightly over Riley’s head and down her neck. “That’s what I’m sorry for…that I couldn’t be there for you. But I’m thankful you had Peggy and Barbara’s support over the years.”

  Oh, so Peggy and Fiona had had a conversation, discussed her hairy affliction without her consent. Riley wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It wasn’t Peggy’s secret to tell. That sort of disclosure might have driven Fiona away for another twenty years. But it hadn’t. The cat was out of the bag, as Paul Foster would say, and Fiona was still here beside her. “When did Peggy tell you?”

  “She didn’t. Edy did. Sometimes my daughter is quicker on the uptake than I am.” Fiona forced a little laugh. “The pieces were there, but I had trouble putting them together until I saw that beautiful and magnificent coyote in your driveway. When she…you…stopped and stared at me, I felt this instant connection. A mutual recognition. Your eyes were unmistakable, but the thought seemed impossible.”

  “Edy…” Riley shook her head in wonderment.

  “She saw something happen to you. That day in the woods, after you broke the window and called the police.”

  “I thought so. I lost my phone that day. She slipped it to me when she dropped off that picture she drew.”

  “I couldn’t understand why she was so anxious to get it to you. I had no idea she was wanting to return your phone.”

  “She’s something, that kid. Most children can’t wait to blabber everyone’s business.”

  “Not Edy. She’s learned to be very careful about what she says. I think she was protecting you…protecting us.”

  “Us?”

  “She figured the truth would freak me out, that our relationship would dissolve, and she’d never see you again. Edy’s crazy about you, in case you haven’t noticed.” Fiona turned in her seat and took both of Riley’s hands in her own. “I’m crazy about you, too.”

  Fiona’s easy acceptance felt like a dream. It was hard to believe. This lycanthropic angst—the ironclad persona she’d worn to hide herself from the woman whose love she feared losing—seemed to lift all at once, giving Riley the sensation of weightlessness. She squeezed Fiona’s hands tighter, thinking that if she let go, she might float up like a helium balloon, straight up the length of the massive chimney until her head hit the ceiling. “It won’t go away, Fiona. I’ll never change.”

  “I don’t want you to change. Ever. I mean, you can change,” she quickly corrected herself, “as often as you need to…but I don’t want you to change who you are. I want you in all your beautiful ways, Riley Edith Dawson.”

  Riley cringed. “Are you still making fun of my middle name? You realize I’m going to have to tickle you until you beg for forgiveness.”

  Fiona leaned back, slowly pulling Riley down with her. “Considering I gave my daughter your name, I’m hardly in a position to poke fun at it.”

  “I guess.” Riley gave a playful smile. “But you’re welcome to poke any of my other parts.”

  “Mmm…I’ll take that as an invitation. And feel free to tickle me anywhere you like, just not my ribs.”

  Riley grinned. “I have no interest in your ribs.” She settled on top of Fiona then, working a thigh between her legs.

  Fiona took Riley’s face in her hands. Gazing with love and wonder, she pulled Riley’s mouth to hers, their lips melding in a deep and overdue kiss until a sudden ruckus of canine chatter broke out—screeches, piercing yips, summ
oning howls, coming from right outside the window.

  “Oh!” Fiona broke their kiss, tensing as though ready to jump up and get out of Riley’s way, perhaps unsure how the change worked, what the rules of shifting were. “Do you need to go? Are they calling you?”

  Riley laughed against Fiona’s mouth. “I’m not going anywhere. Let them leave a message.”

  Epilogue

  The week before Christmas was a whirlwind. On the twenty-second was Edy’s eleventh birthday party at the house. Peggy and Barbara, and David and Tom, made sure to attend with gifts. Olivia and her two dads were there, along with several friends from school. Even Miriam and Scott stopped by to surprise her with a present.

  The night after that was the Holiday Fair in Great Barrington. Riley and Peggy, who both had clients until early evening, met Barbara, Fiona, and Edy at eight o’clock outside the cathedral in town. Barbara had even brought along Jack and Peanut, who were bundled up in green and red hoodies and seemed especially happy to be out of the house. Bells tolled in the tower, ringing out the first few notes of “Silent Night,” and the soft voices of Christmas carolers rose in the distance. The good smells of sugar and spice and burning wood filled the crisp air, while crowds shopped the tables of handmade crafts and lined up at food vendors selling smoked sausage and roasted chestnuts, hot chocolate and caramel apples. On every corner were cauldrons of hot cider and fire barrels, the crackling flames lending a festive glow to things and offering people a cozy spot to stop and warm their hands.

  From around one of those corners came Paul and Doris Foster. Riley hadn’t seen him since the Halloween “trapping incident,” as it was referred to, and would have dodged him if he hadn’t seen her first. Having to look at him made her nervous, but he showed no suspicion. All she saw in his eyes was a merry twinkle. Paul was headed in the direction of the future, happily navigating the present, as he’d learned to do in therapy. The only thing of interest behind him were two people strolling hand in hand—Miriam and Scott Quigley. While Doris hugged everyone, Paul winked at Riley and pointed back with a thumb.