Jasper Lilla and The Wolves of Banner Elk

by C. S. Thompson

  “I don’t know what to do,” he begged her.

  He looked as pitiful as anyone Martha had ever seen. She felt sorry for him until she remembered. Then turning away, she said, “Tell them you’re a lion.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Mercy versus Justice

  Riley is a much better reader than I am. She had to wait for me at every turn of the page, so she got to the last line before I did. As soon as she saw that I had finished she asked Martha, “Did you really say that?”

  “She did,” answered Mary first.

  Martha nodded.

  “That’s so cool,” said Riley.

  Martha looked pained, but she said, “Thank you,” just loud enough for us to hear her.

  “I think it was a cool thing to say, too,” said Mary. “Justice was done, but when my mother thinks back on it she wishes she had opted for mercy at that moment.”

  “I do,” added Martha. “What I said wasn’t justice; it was vengeful. The last thing that man heard from another human being was spite, and it could have been forgiveness.”

  “Did he really deserve forgiveness?” I asked.

  “Forgiveness can only be given to the guilty,” said Martha. She said it so smoothly that I knew she had said it, at least to herself, a thousand times before.

  “At least there’s peace in knowing he can’t do that to anyone else,” said Mary.

  “That’s what the wolves accomplished, and I’m not sorry about that at all. I’m just sorry I wasn’t more merciful. It might have made his last moments a little more bearable.”

  “You were trying to help him,” said Riley, shaking her head.

  Martha pointed at me and asked, “What about the second time you saw the white wolf?” I think she was ready for a change of subject.

  I began by saying, “My sister and I had just come out of the forest behind Lion Pharmaceuticals,” but as soon as I said that, I noticed Martha and Mary giving each other a look.

  “Did he say something wrong?” asked Riley.

  Mary shrugged her shoulders. “My husband used to work there. It’s a snake pit.”

  I could feel Riley tense up. “What do you mean?”

  “John—that’s my husband—is a computer guy. He ran the IT department there. He got fired because he refused to do something unethical.”

  “What?” asked Riley.

  Mary waved her hand. “It’s not important. John got a better job.” She looked at Martha and added, “And his ulcer’s gone now, too.”

  Martha looked back at me.

  “One of the security guys had gotten shot that afternoon chasing an intruder through the woods. We had taken flowers to put on the spot where it happened.”

  “Jasper was with him when he died,” Riley told them.

  “Oh no,” said Martha, leaning forward. “How awful.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I knew she was being nice, but I didn’t really want the attention either. I just returned to the story. “Like I said, it was dark when we got back to the car, so we didn’t see him until my sister turned on the headlights. He was just standing there watching us.”

  “What happened?” asked Mary.

  “Nothing. He trotted back into the woods. That was it.”

  “He was by himself?” asked Martha.

  I nodded yes.

  “When I saw him there were eight of them,” said Martha.

  “I thought I saw about twelve,” I said, “but I’m not 100 percent sure.”

  “Maybe it’s not the same wolf,” suggested Mary.

  Martha studied her daughter for a moment, then she looked at me and asked, “Your wolves didn’t make any noise, did they?”

  I had to think about it first, but they didn’t. The Dobermans made a lot of racket, but other than the sound they made when they flew over me and landed on the ground, the wolves made no noise at all. “No, they didn’t.”

  She bobbed her head once and declared, “I think it’s the same wolf.”

  “Me, too.”

  Twenty-Nine

  Mountain Grounds Coffee and Tea Company

  After Martha and Mary left, Riley and I decided to go to the festival and watch a few woolly worm races. I was fine, but Riley got cold so we headed home pretty quickly. We made it as far as the entrance to Grandfather Mountain when Riley said, “Let’s stop at Mountain Grounds.”

  Mountain Grounds Coffee and Tea Company was a favorite spot for Riley. She was on a first-name basis with the owner, a real friendly woman named Dale. Riley pointed at the tall table in the corner. “Go ahead and sit. You got breakfast. I’ll get this.”

  This coffee shop was much larger than Sister Lee’s. In spite of the size, it had a warm, cozy feeling. People sat in upholstered furniture reading or chatting with friends. A television in the back was playing a football game. The two people on the couch in front of the TV were very friendly with each other and paying no attention to whatever game was on. I think Appalachian State was playing Troy that day.

  A few minutes later Riley returned with two mocha lattes and two cookies. “You have to try this,” she said as she passed me a cookie.

  I picked it up and looked at it.

  “It’s chocolate chip and blueberries in an oatmeal cookie. I know it’s a weird combination, but it really works. Just try it.”

  I don’t generally like dried fruit in my food, but it was really good. “I’d get that again,” I told her as I made short work of the cookie.

  When Riley finished her cookie and we settled into our drinks, I asked her, “Why would they do it?”

  “Why would who do what?”

  “Why would those wolves protect her?”

  “I was wondering that, too,” said Riley. “I saw a YouTube video the other day. It was called, ‘How the Wolves Changed a River.’ When I saw that title, I had to watch it. I think you’d like it. It was pretty interesting.”

  “They changed a river?” I prompted.

  “It seemed like it was their job or something,” she said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I got the impression that when wolves are just being themselves, they kind of keep everything else in balance. According to the video, the wolves had been missing from Yellowstone Park for seventy years. That made the deer and the elk population get out of balance. When the wolves came back, they hunted them, which made the deer and the elk change their habits. They had to avoid open areas and stick more to places where they’d be covered. That made the open areas grow more plants and stuff, and that brought back more birds. More trees brought beavers back, and that meant more dams, which brought more fish and ducks. The wolves drove the coyotes away, and that made the rabbit and mice populations grow. That brought more hawks and eagles and foxes. With all of that going on, the forest got stabilized so that the banks of the river didn’t erode away.” She took a deep breath. “That’s what it means.”

  Thirty

  Carol and the Necklace

  Carol met me at the kitchen door when I got home. “Where have you been?”

  “Am I in trouble?” I asked.

  Her eyebrows knit together as she eyed me. “I don’t know. Are you?”

  Ever since I was little it’s been like I had three moms, and each one in her own way could give me that look that said, you-think-I don’t-know-but-I-know. Carol was giving me her version of the look, but I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong so I said, “I just robbed a bank over in Roan Mountain, but not to worry. I was real careful.”

  “Cool,” she said. “Can I borrow some money?”

  I did a fake laugh and headed for my room. I assumed her joke, such as it was, meant the interrogation was over.

  “I’d still like an answer, buddy-boy.”

  “What?”

  “You were supposed to help me replace that slat on Wally’s ramp.”

  One of the slats on the ramp for Wally’s wheelchair had warped, and I had promised to help replace it.

  “I’m sorry. I forgot. What tim
e were we supposed to do it?”

  “We never said a time,” she told me.

  That confused me. “So, I didn’t mess up?”

  “No, you’re fine.”

  “Then what’s with all the questions?”

  “Just checking.”

  “You know, you’re not my mother.”

  “Really. You really want to go there?” Then she gave me that look. It was a different version of the I-know look.

  “You know, Carol, the last time you tried that on me I was eight years old.”

  She grinned. “Did it work then?”

  “Probably, but I’m not eight anymore.”

  “And you don’t want me acting like your mom. I understand. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was using the mom tone on you.” She held up her hands like she was giving up. “I won’t do that anymore.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I’ll just let Mom handle it.”

  Boom! She set me up, and then boom. I never saw it coming.

  “Handle what?”

  She waved her finger all over me. “This whole wolf thing you’ve got going on right now.”

  “I don’t have a wolf thing going on.”

  She gave me the look again. I knew it was coming so I held strong. I doubt I fooled her, but I didn’t crumble either.

  “Do you remember when we saw that white wolf the other night?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I watched you, Jasper. That wolf was looking directly at you. Not me at all. Just you. And you. You looked back.”

  I started to explain, but she put her finger on my lips. “Let me finish.”

  She took her finger back. “Then when he left, you went somewhere else. I don’t know if you were deep in thought or something else, but your mind wasn’t in the Jeep with me.”

  I tried to speak again, and again she stopped me. “There’s more. When they started baying you didn’t hear it, did you?”

  “They bayed?”

  Carol nodded yes. “There were a bunch of them baying. It started right after the white one disappeared. It was right before we drove off. You were still somewhere else.” She hooked her finger under the collar of my T-shirt and pulled Linus’s wolf’s-tooth necklace out. “And you were holding this,” she said.

  I stared down at the tooth in her palm.

  “I’ve been thinking about it ever since.” She let go of the wolf’s tooth.

  It dropped against my chest. I put it back under my shirt.

  “I called you about half an hour ago. When you didn’t answer I called Riley. She said you had just dropped her off and were on your way home. I asked her where you guys had been, and she told me you went to Banner Elk to talk to the wolf lady.”

  Thanks, Riley.

  “So, when I asked you where you’d been, I was wondering if you were going to let me in on as much as you had let Riley in on.”

  “I trust her,” I said.

  “I can see that,” said Carol. “I’m glad you have someone like her to trust. I really am, but I’d like to think you could trust me, too.”

  “I do trust you, Carol. There’s just a lot going on, and I don’t know what to think about it. That’s why I don’t know how to talk about it.”

  “You’re talking to Riley.”

  “Well,” I shrugged, “she does most of the talking.”

  “Does she know about that?” Carol asked, tapping the wolf’s tooth under my shirt.

  “She does. She’s sort of connected to why I’m wearing it in the first place.”

  “Well, I’m connected to that necklace, too.”

  I just looked at her.

  “It belonged to my father,” she said.

  Thirty-One

  Carol

  “You look surprised,” said Carol. She sat down at the kitchen table. With her foot she shoved the chair across from her away from the table. “Sit down. I’ve got a story to tell you.”

  I sat.

  “How much do you know about Dad?” she asked.

  “I know he was an anthropology professor at Appalachian State.”

  She nodded. “Do you know how he died?”

  “It was a car crash, wasn’t it?” I wasn’t really asking a question, but when she just looked at me and waited, it really became a question. “Wasn’t it?”

  “It was,” she said. “But it wasn’t that simple. Did you know Mom didn’t get any insurance money?”

  I must have looked as confused as I felt.

  “I’m sorry,” said Carol. “I’m making this a lot more complicated than it needs to be. They didn’t pay on Dad’s life insurance policy because they said it was a suicide.”

  I stood up so fast that I knocked my chair over. It woke Kitty up. She came over and put her giant head in Carol’s lap.

  I swallowed hard. “He committed suicide.”

  “Absolutely not,” she said. She was stroking Kitty’s head. “Mom didn’t fight it, but it wasn’t true.”

  I righted my chair and sat back down. “Why did they think it was suicide?”

  She winced. Bouncing her head from side to side she said, “They found a suicide note, but it was an old note.”

  I was holding my breath.

  “Dad had schizophrenia. Do you know what that means?”

  “Was he crazy?”

  “People who have schizophrenia have trouble with reality. Sometimes they hear voices. Sometimes they have magic thinking. Sometimes they have bizarre habits.”

  “Crazy habits?”

  “Dad didn’t have any crazy habits. Sometimes he heard voices, but his medication kept that in check most of the time. I remember him as a great dad. He had lots of time for us. He was real funny, too. He could always make Mom laugh.”

  I was almost two when my dad died. I have vague memories of him, but mostly I remember stories I heard from Linus and Carol. Mom only talks about him if she’s asked. Aunt Maggie didn’t join the family until after he died. What I remember is him telling us stories about the Cherokee Indians. Maybe I remember that because that’s what Linus and Carol told me, but I don’t care. It’s the only clear memory I have. The thought that he was crazy didn’t fit with my memory any better than the thought of suicide did.

  “The suicide note they said he left was really old. It was from a time before he was diagnosed and given medicine that would help him.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?” I asked Carol.

  She gently pushed Kitty’s head out of her lap and scooted her chair closer to the table. “Dad had some magic thinking going on in his head.” She held up her hands. “That’s not crazy.”

  “‘Magic thinking,’” I repeated.

  “Have you ever heard of the Nicotani?”

  “No.”

  “The legend about the Nicotani is that they were a priestly clan within the Cherokee people a long time ago. They had some kind of special power that made them different. According to the legend, they used their power to send the men away and then they took advantage of the women. One of them did that to the wrong warrior’s wife, and he got all the warriors together and wiped the Nicotani out.”

  “That’s a true story?”

  “It’s a true legend of the Cherokee.”

  “But Dad believed it.”

  Carol sighed. “He more than believed it. He believed that the Nicotani did have magic powers, but only the males. He believed that there were Nicotani women who survived, because without their powers they looked the same as other Cherokee women.” She paused and watched me. “Do you see where I’m going?”

  I shook my head no. I was having a hard time keeping up with her.

  “Dad believed he was a descendant of the Nicotani.”

  “Maybe he was,” I said. The implications of what she was saying about Dad hadn’t sunk in.

  She looked at me like I was crazy. “Maybe?” Shaking her head she said, “Let me say all that again. Dad believed he had magic power.”

  “Oh.”

  “Now
you get it?”

  I got it. I didn’t want it, but I got it. He was crazy. “What was his magic power?” I asked.

  “His magic power was connected to that wolf’s-tooth necklace around your neck.”

  I took it out and held it away from my chest so that I could look at it again.

  “He thought it gave him power over wolves.”

  That’s the moment when I wondered if I was going crazy.

  Thirty-Two

  Linus

  “You haven’t been wondering the same thing, have you, Jasper?” asked Carol.

  Truthfully, the thought had been floating around in my head, but I hadn’t let it find a place to settle in. It was only a matter of time before I did wonder. I didn’t know what to think after Carol told me about our father.

  “You know that Linus only wore that necklace a couple of times?”

  I shook my head no.

  “We talked about it many times. He had Dad’s necklace. I had Dad’s journal. We decided to test the necklace out.”

  “You mean you tried to . . . see if it had power over wolves?”

  “Does that sound crazy?”

  “What happened?”

  “First we just went out in the woods a few times to see if wolves would come. They didn’t. Then we drove over to Bays Mountain in Tennessee. They have a wolf habitat there.”

  I nearly jumped out of my chair again. I was paying such close attention to Carol that I hadn’t seen Kitty come sit next to me. Let me tell you, when a seventy-five-pound puppy reminds you that it’s her dinner time by plopping a paw on your leg, she gets your attention.

  “In a minute, Kitty,” I said as I pushed her paw off my leg.

  Kitty immediately hopped up and put both her front paws on my leg. This put her head over mine. She stretched her neck out slowly, turning to face Carol.

  “Kitty says she doesn’t want to wait a minute,” Carol told me.

  I had to squirm to get out from under her. “I’m listening,” I told Carol as I got Kitty’s bowl and went to the pantry closet just behind where Carol was sitting.

  “We got to Bays Mountain about two o’clock in the afternoon. There were maybe ten wolves there. They were all kind of lounging around. That’s how wolves usually are around midday.”