I heard a familiar vehicle and smiled. “Speaking of Hunter, he just pulled in. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“I might even give you a few details.”
“I’m counting on you.”
I hung up, checked my hair and makeup, and headed out the front door to meet the reason for my confusion, the varmint.
I couldn’t wait to see him.
****
Hunter met me with a warm kiss and wrapped his arm around me as we walked into the house. Miz C and Bumpkins were near the fence, as always. The cat watched us curiously, and the old woman gave us the evil eye.
Once inside, we got glasses of iced tea and sat on the couch. I was so nervous I almost spilled my tea, and it didn’t help that I could smell anxiety on Hunter. What did he plan to tell me that worried him so much?
“First, complete disclosure.” He handed me a paperback, a fantasy novel written by one Devon Hunt.
I’d heard the name, but of course I’d had no idea who the author actually was. I turned it over in my hand, examining the shine and wondering what to say. “Yours?”
He nodded. “Look, I’m sure my buddy Ace told you I write commercial fiction. Which makes me a hypocrite, I know.”
I smiled as I skimmed the back of the book. “So this is you being a hypocrite? Looks interesting.”
“Feel free to read it and tell me what you think. It’s only fair.” He shrugged. “In fact, if you get really crazy, I have three more. Just let me know.”
With that, the itchy feeling I’d had all morning kicked up a good ten notches. “About my books…”
He took my hand in his. “You’re an excellent writer. Technique is not your problem.”
“Then what is?”
He met my gaze, and the expression I saw in his eyes shifted. He didn’t want to tell me. My breath got so choppy it made me feel funny. “Terri?” He touched my face. “It’s not that bad. I’m just not sure how to explain what I think.”
“Try, please.”
He nodded. “In your early books, you went deep. You tapped into your heart, your passion, your soul.”
My mouth went dry. “Not now?”
He took a breath. “Your books are well plotted, and the characters are interesting, but it feels like the stories are coming from here.” He touched a fingertip to my forehead. “Not here.” He touched my breastbone.
I wanted to laugh, to tell him he was full of something stinky. A tiny part of me, though, whispered I’d known all along. A bucket of cold fear poured over me. “So I lost my writing mojo.”
Hunter’s soft chuckle warmed me and irritated me at the same time. “No,” he said. “In my opinion, you have lost your excitement for writing women’s fiction. It seems to me that you’re forcing the story to come. Maybe you need to try a different type of story or genre. Writing is hard enough without forcing yourself to write something you dislike.”
I looked at him, and saw the face of a professor. A person who made his living putting fiction into pigeonholes. “So, give my muse something different to work with?”
He shrugged. “You could put it like that.”
“But you wouldn’t.” I stood and went into the kitchen. I looked out the window above the sink, but I didn’t see the teenage girl. Why did that bother me?
Hunter’s hand rested on my shoulder. “I was afraid I would upset you. I’m sorry.”
It was all too much. A sister I didn’t know. A father I barely remembered. A career I loved, and needed to survive in the crazy human world, was threatened by my own inability to know what I wanted to do. Tears abruptly filled my eyes, which irritated the last nerve standing.
“Wouldn’t do to believe in a muse, would it? That’s entirely too much like fun. Might not take the magic out of writing. You don’t want to believe in anything you can’t measure or calculate somehow. You can’t let yourself believe in muses, or Bigfoot, or ghosts, or shapeshifters. I’m amazed you can write fiction at all, much less fantasy.”
Dead silence closed around us, closing off even the quiet movement of the air as we breathed. A dull ache filled my chest as I considered the possibility that I’d just done the irreparable.
“That’s not fair, Terri.”
“Life’s not fair.” The words were out of my mouth before I made the decision to speak.
“I see life through the eyes of science and logic,” he said. “I don’t believe in what I can’t verify. You believe in things I don’t. The differences in how we see the world allows me to write fantasy; and for you to write best-selling women’s fiction. The world would be boring if we all saw things the same way.”
I looked at him through a new batch of tears. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve had a rough time the last few days.”
I held his gaze. “It is magic, you know. We have the ability to visit a non-existent world and write down the stories we encounter there so that other people can visit that world too.”
Hunter looked thoughtful for a moment, then a smile lit his face. “I really like that.”
“Even if you don’t believe—” Hunter touched the tip of his finger to my lips.
“Just because I understand how the process works doesn’t mean I can’t see the magic in what we do.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Nobody understands how we manage to make stories in our heads and transfer them to paper. What we do goes way beyond the basic formation of thoughts and imagination, neurons and electrical impulses.”
He chuckled. “Okay. Nobody really understands how the mind works when it’s being creative, true. But we do know a lot more than we did. Now we know that there are three networks in the brain that work together when we’re creative, The Executive Attention Network, The Default Network, and The Salience Network. Plus we know during a creative process our brains activate and deactivate the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex.”
I took a tiny step so that our bodies almost touched. “We? So you’re a neuroscientist now? Or is there a mouse in your pocket?”
He pulled out his left pants pocket and peered down into it. “She’s on to us, Pedro.”
I rolled my eyes, but he was so cute it was impossible to be angry. Still that didn’t change the fact that if our relationship had any chance of being more than a quick, fun fling, he would have to accept something very non-logical about me.
Hunter’s fingers tipped up my chin. “Pedro wants to know why you have that worried look on your face.”
It would be easy to go along with the light conversation, but after the last few crazy days, I was in serious need of some hope. So I dove in. “What would it take for you to believe in something paranormal?”
His lips pulled to one side in an expression that was likely exasperation. “What is it with you? Why is it so important to you that I believe in that off-the-wall stuff that you do?”
Because I’m a collie. I sighed. “Please go with me for a minute. What would cause you to rethink your opinion?”
His frown deepened. “It isn’t an opinion. I’m simply seeing the world through logic and science.”
I held up a hand. “What would it take for you to admit there are things beyond today’s scientific knowledge?”
“There are things beyond what we know. I don’t question that.”
There was my opening, now to take it. “Okay, let’s take Bigfoot. Isn’t it possible that there is an animal that we don’t know about roaming the deep forests?”
He shifted from one leg to another for a moment before he spoke. “I can’t believe nobody’s found a body or something by now, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. It’s not at all likely, but yeah, it’s possible.”
I swallowed hard and took the next step. “What about leprechauns?”
He groaned. “Oh good grief.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Hunter, please.”
He looked into my eyes, and must have seen something that touched him. “I believe there are people who beli
eve they are leprechauns.”
“All it would take are a few genetic and cultural differences to move from belief to reality.”
He leaned his head slightly to one side, as his eyes unfocused. He was quiet for a moment, then looked at me again. “Maybe.”
“Thank you.”
He took a step back and did a little bow. “I concede the point to m’lady.”
“What about shapeshifters?”
He let out a long, groaning sigh and his head dropped forward. “I don’t know what you want from me. It’s beginning to seem like you’re trying to provoke an argument.”
I touched his arm. “I’m not, I promise. Just tell me your thoughts, then you can change the subject to anything you want.”
He looked at me as if calculating the probability I would actually let it go.
“I promise,” I said.
He sighed again and looked me directly in the eyes. “Shapeshifting is an impossibility. Just the difference in mass makes it impossible. Changing biological material in what, minutes? Seconds? That definitely breaks the laws of physics.”
“Thank you. Just remember in the days to come, you admitted there are things science can’t explain.”
His eyebrows shot up and his head tipped to one side as he studied me. Then he shook his head slightly as a little breath blew through his lips. “Sure.”
I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I could show him, of course, but I doubted that would increase the odds of our relationship working.
“So,” he said. “How would you feel about going to see that new science fiction movie?”
“Sounds great.”
As we got into Hunter’s car, I caught a glimpse of a collie puppy. I sniffed, and discovered a scent that was both odd and strangely familiar. Was my sister, one of the impossibilities Hunter couldn’t believe existed?
Chapter Fourteen
It was early afternoon two days after our near-argument about the paranormal. Hunter was back at the B&B, working diligently on his book, and I was using the time to set up the next stage in what I hoped was a plan that led to better understanding—and eventual acceptance by the man I loved. The only hitch in the plan was the necessity of involving a friend to make a necessary connection. I’d known about the Bigfoot for years, but had never actually met one. It was time I did.
The foliage thickened as we walked deeper into the woods. Beside me, Stephie had her head down and stepped carefully. Poor thing. She’d told me about a run-in with a rattlesnake not long after she came to Ugly Creek. Maybe I should tell her there was nothing to worry about, I was keeping all my Sleuth Dog senses open to any sort of danger. But then I’d have to tell her my secret.
Maybe that’s exactly what I should do, tell her. She was trusting me with a bigger secret, after all. A secret that an entire town worked to protect. Since I wasn’t opening up to her, she had no way of knowing that I understood the risk she was taking.
“Thank you for doing this, Stephie.”
She glanced toward me. “Please don’t make me regret it.”
The gravity of the situation rushed over me again. “I won’t. I really do have a good reason for talking to him.”
I would tell her later. After I managed to get through whatever happened between Hunter and me. After I either convinced him to open his mind, or I lost him for good.
She stopped and held out a hand to hold me back. “Is anyone there?”
Something was there, I smelled the sharp wild scent of a forest dweller. My heart banged in my chest and I had to fight the strong urge to shift and rush to meet the newcomer.
The magnificent creature looked a lot like the costumed creations from TV. This guy was real, though. No doubt about that. There was no faking that rich, thick fur or the muscles in his face. His expressions were as clear and rich as any other living creature.
“Hello, Abukcheech,” Stephie said. “This is my friend Terri. She wanted to meet one of your kind.”
I held out my hand in Abukcheech’s direction. “It’s great to meet you.”
“Humans touch hands. I have seen.” He covered my hand with his huge, furry one, and I fought the urge to giggle.
A moment later, he had let go of my hand, but was still looking at me. His head was tilted to the side, and his eyes were narrowed. All in all a very human expression. “Is something wrong?”
“You different. Smell different.”
Stephie let out a tiny, embarrassed laugh. “Um, Abukcheech, that wasn’t nice.”
“It’s okay,” I said, as I smiled at him. “Animals depend more on scent than humans, I get that.”
“I not animal.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you.” Though he looked more confused than insulted.
I tried again. “You use your sense of smell a lot, right?”
He touched his nose. “Smell tell you much.” He pointed at Stephie. “You have dog smell with you, but you smell like human.”
She smiled. “Because I played with Dingo this morning.”
He pointed at me. “She smell like dog.”
“Abukcheech!” Stephie’s eyes were wider than I’d ever seen a person’s get, and she was chewing at her bottom lip so intensely I was worried she’d hurt herself. Screw keeping my frigging secret.
“It’s okay. He’s both literal and correct. I’m a shapeshifter.”
“You’re a what?”
“I guess you’d say I’m a were-dog. Were-collie to be exact.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Let’s just say you won’t see Trixie and Terri at the same time.”
I looked back at Abukcheech. “That’s why I need your help. I have a friend who doesn’t believe in anything he can’t totally understand. I hope that if he sees that the Dyami are real, he’ll be more open to other things.”
“Like a shapeshifter girlfriend?” Stephie asked.
“Yes.” I turned again to Abukcheech. “Will you help me?”
“What must I do?”
“Just meet me here tomorrow. How about the same time as today?”
“I will do that.”
They were both looking at me in oddly similar confusion. “Stephie, if you would be so kind as to take my dog and my clothes with you, I’ll show you what I’m talking about.”
She nodded, so I slipped behind a tree and turned my back to keep the furry kid from accidentally seeing something he shouldn’t. Then I allowed my body to flow into my four-legged form.
There was a feminine gasp then a guttural sounding non-English word followed by a similarly guttural “Awesome.” I couldn’t resist, I went over to them and did a little bow.
Stephie helped me get free of the shorts and T-shirt still hanging off my body, then folded and gathered them and my shoes. Meanwhile, Abukcheech was watching me intently while doing a little dance. He looked a little like a giant Snoopy. When I caught his gaze, he grinned a big, furry grin. “I will be here tomorrow.”
I nodded, then Stephie and I took off down the barely noticeable trail we’d come in on. I sincerely hoped I could locate the trail by myself tomorrow. It be rather embarrassing if after all this I screwed up the opportunity by losing my way in the woods. What kind of dog would that make me? I’d be the laughing stock of the human and the canine world simultaneously.
As we headed toward home, I caught a familiar scent. A moment later I saw the collie puppy peering around a tree. She was looking right at me, her head leaned to the side as if she were trying to figure me out.
I started toward her, but I hadn’t taken four steps before she turned tail and ran deeper into the forest. All the way to Stephie’s car, and even as she drove us home, I wondered if that puppy was my sister. If so, why didn’t Daddy tell me she’s a shifter? Worse, what if she’d seen me shift and got scared?
So many things I didn’t know. So much I wanted to physically pull from my—our—father.
At Aunt Ruth’s house I nosed the keys from my shorts pocket toward Stephie, an
d in minutes we were inside and away from prying neighbor eyes. I headed into my bedroom, where I shifted back and got dressed.
Back in the living room, Stephie was sitting in the middle of the floor, rolling a ball around so Scrappy could chase it. She looked up when I came into the room. “She’s so cute!”
I sat near them so I could play too. “She is, isn’t she?”
Stephie was giving me odd little glances.
“Wanna tell me what’s up?” I asked.
She giggled. “A dog with a kitten pet.”
I groaned. “You’re as bad as Shay. Some dogs like cats, some don’t. Just like humans. And besides, I’m usually a person, not a dog.”
“Do you play with her when you’re all furry and four-legged?”
“Yes, Scrappy gets along very well with me when I’m Trixie.”
She smiled as she gave her head a little shake. “You seriously belong here in Ugly Creek.”
“Because I’m a shifter?”
“Because you’re nuts.” She chuckled as she snagged Scrappy and held her nose-to-nose.
I saw a glisten in Stephie’s eyes, then a moment later she let go of Scrappy with one hand so she could wipe at her face.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She waved a hand in a dismissive fashion, and Scrappy reached out to bat at it. “She’s just so freaking cute.”
I was considering what else to say, when her cell sounded. While Stephie talked to her handsome husband, I stretched out on my stomach and focused on playing with my furball while ignoring the conversation beside me. I did hear her say something about being teary-eyed. Not my business, I told myself, and ignored the conversation.
A few minutes later, Stephie clicked off her phone. “This is fun, but I think I’d better get home.”
“He misses you.”
She smiled as she gave a little one-shouldered shrug. “That and he needs help with the store paperwork.”
I pulled myself to my feet and walked her out to her little red car. “Thank you for the introduction.”
“Good luck with your with your plan to convince Hunter to accept both sides of your personality.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, isn’t that the puppy that was in the woods?”
Tails of Ugly Creek Page 10