Shifter's Magic (The Wolvers Book 8)

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  "Those chores won't put food on the table, Ellie."

  Her mother would laugh at his grumbling. "Maybe not, but it'll make your mate happy and a wise wolver knows what that kind of happiness brings. Go on, now, the day always looks brighter when you've got something to do."

  Her father would smile. "Day's looking better already, El. Think I'll go find me a hammer."

  Olivia wasn't sure how old she was when she figured out the meaning behind the message, but she remembered that the knowledge made her cringe. She laughed at it now. How the hell else did she think she and her litter mates came about?

  Now, she wished she had her own man who was willing to go find him a hammer, someone for whom love was happiness.

  "Brad," her wolf whispered.

  "Yeah," Olivia agreed. Brad would have done anything to make her happy. "But it's too late now. I threw that hammer away."

  She entered the kitchen to find her mother at the stove. Pork chops were frying in the iron skillet, eggs were waiting in a bowl to the side, and biscuits were ready to pop in the oven. Olivia took the spatula from her mother's hand and gave her hip a gentle bump with her own.

  "I've got this. Go sit down and drink your coffee hot for a change."

  "Oh, honey, you don't need to be doing that," Ellie protested.

  "I do, Mama. I need to do this and a whole lot more."

  This wasn't on the Mate's list. This wasn't a chore to be accomplished to receive a reward. There was no return on this investment. This was a small payment on a debt she could never fully repay.

  After popping the biscuits into the oven and turning the chops one last time, she pointed the metal spatula at her mother. "You're going to sit and have breakfast with your family, and don't tell me you always do, because you don't. You cook for us and then eat your breakfast alone. Today, and every day I'm here, you're going to sit, and today, after you sit, you're going to go fix your hair, throw some lipstick on and go visit in Donna's kitchen. Let her count the minutes until you arrive for a change."

  "Nice as that sounds, Livvy, I can't just up and run off. I have laundry to do."

  "I can wash, fold, and iron with the best of them. I can make deliveries, too, if I have to." Turning her back to the table, she began cracking eggs into the bowl. "You did it for me for years. I can do it for a few weeks. I need to show my thanks."

  "If this is about what Donna said..." Ellie began.

  "It is and it isn't," Olivia interrupted. She watched the eggs foam up as she whipped them with a fork. Her eyes never left the bowl as she said the words that were too long unsaid. "I know I said thank you because you and Daddy raised me to be polite, but I never thought about what I was thanking you for. I never thought about the time and work and sacrifices you made to give me what I wanted, about how much you gave up." The good feeling she had when she awakened that morning suddenly turned to tears. "And then I let people spit on it. I turned my back on all of you and, and..."

  And her mother was up and gathering her in her arms and rocking her from side to side as she always did when good things turned bad.

  "I need to do this, Mama."

  "Who died?" Matt, entering and taking his seat at the table, asked.

  "Childhood," Tom answered. "Just let the blubbering run its course and hope the meat don't burn."

  "Burned meat is better than none," his practical mate sniffed in return. "I've been given a gift is all," she said to Matt. "You know how that always makes me cry. You just sit and drink your coffee. Eggs'll be ready as soon as your sister wipes her eyes." She handed the dishtowel to Olivia after wiping her own teary eyes.

  The other three siblings were more cautious.

  "Is anything wrong?" Lucy asked.

  "Not now," Olivia and Ellie answered together, but Ellie continued. "But there will be if you three miss that bus again. Now eat up and get going. And you," she pointed to Olivia, "can take care of things today, and maybe one day next week so I can get a few last minute things for Christmas. Other than that, this is my job. My chosen profession. I made that choice a long time ago and I've never regretted it - except for that time you and Matt dyed Tommyboy purple," she qualified with a laugh. "I had a few doubts after that one, but I got over it. I never felt like I sacrificed one damn thing. I never gave up anything I didn't want to give. You need to go find your own chosen profession, Livvy, and leave me to mine. You end up half as happy with your life as I am with this one and you'll have done good. Real good." Ellie toasted her with a forkful of eggs. "Good eggs, though. Your mama must've taught you something."

  Tom's hand slipped over Ellie's free one and gripped it tight. It was another gesture Olivia found embarrassing when she was young. Her parents were too old to behave like that. Now she saw it as something more than a teenaged act of possession. Holding hands was a symbol of the bond her parents shared.

  Her mother already had two loads washed with one in the dryer when Olivia took over the task, but it was still close to noon when she finished. In between, she cleaned the kitchen, tidied up the rest of the house, put together a beef stew for supper, and baked a batch of Snickerdoodles to take with her. She even spread the table with a freshly ironed cloth. After one morning of following a routine that her mother followed day in and day out, Olivia was certain this would never be a path she would choose. The monotony of it reminded her of the confining cubicle at Harkness Industries.

  She saw the irony in her decision, though. While six loads of stinky, dirty clothes made her cringe, the thought of two dozen sticky fingered children, all with drippy noses, made her smile. She wanted to teach, and she was sure that if she performed her tasks well, the Alpha would see to it that she found a place to do it in his brother's pack.

  It was with that chosen profession in mind that Olivia tramped up the double track drive to Eban Hancock's four room bungalow. It was a long walk, and once again she was reminded of how widespread her little village was and how isolated its inhabitants were.

  From the road that crossed the valley below, the turnoff was unmarked and barely noticeable. After a long and winding drive upward through nothing but forest and a few small and overgrown fields, there was a little sign that said 'Gilead'. It did not say 'welcome to' because you weren't unless you were wolver. Beneath the name was the population count with the number painted over so many times it could no longer be read. It had become an inside joke that no one lived in Gilead. A half mile beyond the sign, there was a cluster of six houses, not side by side, but clearly visible to each other. One of them was the Alpha's. A stranger would think that loop in the road was all there was to Gilead; a dead end town at the end of a dead end road.

  Once upon a time, Olivia, like the imaginary stranger, thought that too, but striding along the route to Eban's brought memories to the fore. Surrounded by bare trees with little to obstruct her vision, she spied the remnants of the tree house Matt and his friends had built. They'd spent a summer collecting scraps of lumber and pilfering nails from garages and sheds to build it. She'd loved that tree house, though she'd never said a word of that to Matt. He would have immediately banned her from it as another means of brotherly torment.

  On the other side of the lane, deep in the trees, there should be a rope, long and heavy, with one end tied securely to the sturdy branch of a tall oak. The other end was tied to someone's cast off tire. If the tree house made her wonder what it was like to be a bird, that swing made her feel it. Hauling that tire up to another branch in a nearby tree, keeping your balance while you wiggled your way through the tire's center, taking that death defying leap while hanging on for dear life...well, Tarzan never had it so good. No roller coaster could compare to that swing.

  She supposed that each generation felt as she and her playmates had. They thought they were the first to discover the treasures of the woods, and their parents let them think it. On their own, pups learned to squabble and fight and settle their disagreements. Leaders were born and followers learned their place in the pack order. They lea
rned to cooperate with each other, whether it was following the rules of a game or building a fort. The older cubs led the way and looked out for the younger. They learned to run and play and work as a pack.

  Every pup in Gilead knew that a spiderweb of gravel lanes and dirt tracks branched off that central paved road. Those lanes and tracks were crisscrossed with footpaths worn bare with years of use. They never thought about how far they'd gone or how much time they took in getting there. For the young, Gilead was one vast playground where hours could be spent running wild. No pup feared the surrounding forest or the creatures that inhabited it. No parent feared for their safety. There were no human predators here.

  It was a wonderful place to grow up and with a strong and vital Alpha and Mate, the population was already recovering. There was a new generation of youngsters ready to take off and explore. What wonders would they discover? Olivia envied that new and rising generation. She wished she could share in the adventure of growing up all over again.

  Eban called out in answer to her knock. "Door's open."

  Of course it was. No one locked their doors in Gilead. It wouldn't be hard to find him. The living room went straight through to the kitchen. The bedrooms were off to the side. The place was clean and neat, though most of it was old and worn.

  Eban was letting himself out of a modern electric recliner. Olivia could see his frustration as the footrest slowly worked its way to the ground.

  "No, no, don't get up," she pleaded. "I only stopped by to deliver your laundry." She was grateful for the excuse.

  "Damn chair is slow as molasses," he complained. "Penny and her mate brought it with 'em when they came for Thanksgiving. They thought that button would save my hands." He showed her his hands, gnarled and swollen with arthritis. "But I got to tell ya, iffen someone yells fire, I'm gonna burn to a crisp afore my feet hit the ground and my butt rises. O' course, I'd probably burn anyway as slow as I'm movin' lately, so I guess I may as well fry in comfort. I only took it 'cause they hauled it all the way across two states to get it here." He grinned, showing off a wide expanse of missing teeth. "That, and I figured maybe they'd quit pestering me about movin' in with 'em. What brings you here? Livvy, ain't it? It's been a while and sometimes I forget."

  "You didn't forget this time. I'm Livvy, all right. I'm filling in for Mama. She's taking the day off," she explained.

  "Good for her. A man may work from sun to sun, but woman's work is never done. My Violet was always saying that like it was my fault she wouldn't sit." He shrugged. "Well, she's a-sittin' now, I reckon, tappin' her foot 'cause I'm late in comin'. Lord knows I miss that old woman, but the choice ain't mine to live or die, so I guess we'll both just have to wait it out." He sniffed loudly. "What else you got there?"

  "I made cookies and a pot of stew this morning. I thought you might like some."

  "You thought aright. I get sick of my own cooking, such as it is. Let me put my teeth in and we'll go have us some lunch. That boy of yours stops by now and again for supper, but I never have company for lunch."

  She assumed the old man was mistaking her for Ellie and wondered which one of her brothers Mama sent up here for supper.

  Olivia hadn't planned on staying for lunch, but the old man looked so happy for the company, she couldn't bring herself to decline. She needn't have worried about what she would say, either. Eban cheerfully filled in the time. If his short term memory was faulty, his long term was not. A few of his stories she'd heard before, but some were new to her, and some made her laugh, particularly the one about his courtship of Violet.

  "I met her at a gathering down Arkansas way. She was purty and I weren't, so I was scairt stiff of even sayin' how-dee-do. I was sleeping in a tent like most others, but her folks were from the pack that was hosting. They lived in a house nearby, so I figured I'd sneak out there after the run, wake her up, and plead my case while it was still dark figurin' it wouldn't hurt as bad if no one knew she rejected me, see? I was afraid I'd break a window if I threw stones, so I gathered up some tomaters from the garden. Just the small ones, mind, the ones nobody would likely miss. I had a sorry aim, I can tell you that.

  "My first two throws whomped right against the house, but my third went true. Only problem was I had the wrong winder and her daddy threw up the sash and stuck his head out just as I let fly. That tomater splattered right on his nose. He bellowed loud enough to wake the dead. I tried to run, but her brothers were faster'n me and I ended up in their kitchen havin' to explain what I was doing throwin' vegetables at their house in the dark hours of the mornin'. Took me months to bring 'em round. Worked out all right in the end, though her daddy never did see the humor in it." He laughed. "Let that be a lesson to ya. Say what's in your heart and take your chances. Throwin' tomaters brings no one no good."

  Olivia listened to it all and enjoyed it, but when Eban started to reminisce about skating up on White Owl pond, her mind began to wander back to her own bittersweet memories. The pond was at the far end of pack territory. She and Brad used to spend a lot of time up there. It was one of the few places where they could be alone, and it was there that they'd first made love. She remembered the feel of his hands, remembered his taste and the feel of the leaves against her back. She remembered how wonderful it felt to follow the urges of her body that his kisses invoked. She'd never had sex before, but Brad never made her feel awkward. He'd made her feel wanted, worshipped, and adored.

  The touch of the old man's hand brought her back to the present. "You all right, honey? I didn't mean to make you sad."

  "You didn't," she assured him. She'd done that all by herself.

  She said goodbye shortly after that, explaining that she needed to get started on the Mate's Christmas light assignment which Livvy figured was only on the list because everyone else was too busy to do it.

  As it turned out, Eban was a retired electrician. He told her about several electrical outlets beneath the trees in the center of the loop.

  "The old Mate, Miz Mary, always wanted a gazebo under there, but it never came to be."

  She left Eban with two heavy duty extension cords from his shed and a promise to return another time.

  She was halfway home before she realized she might not be able to keep that promise. If the Alpha came through with word from one of his brothers, she would be out of Gilead in a heartbeat, eager and ready to start a new life. It was what she wanted, wasn't it? So why did she feel like she was failing again?

  Chapter 9

  The next assignment on Olivia's list was Hannah Tilson, though what the Mate expected from the visit remained a mystery.

  "Don't underestimate Hannah. She's playing with a full deck. She just deals the cards slower than most and no one's ever taught her how to play poker. Just stop by and say hey," was all Jazz asked and that was exactly what Olivia intended.

  The Tilson's yard was as it had always been. Penned behind a grey and gap toothed picket fence, piles of rusted junk and half-finished projects grew up between the weeds. A dirt path led to the sagging front porch. Olivia stepped cautiously onto the sheet of warped and weathered plywood nailed to the wood in front of the door, no doubt to cover a hole in the porch. Someone had painted WELCUM across it. The sentiment made her snicker, not because it was misspelled, but because the Tilson's had never been known to welcome anyone. She put on a friendly smile and knocked.

  Hannah's grandfather opened the door releasing the smell of stale sweat and cigar smoke. "Don't need no handouts and don't need no help," he said.

  Someone who didn't know the old man would think this greeting was rude. They wouldn't know that this was his friendlier greeting. "Get the hell off my porch," was the rude one.

  Olivia kept her smile in place. "No handouts. No help, though I did bring cookies." She held up the bag. "They're for Hannah. Is she home?"

  Mr. Tilson's eyes zeroed in on the bag she carried. "I'll go get her." He turned his head and bellowed, "Hannah!"

  "I'm right here, Papaw. What do you want?" Ha
nnah's eyes went wide and she threw up her hands in delight. "Livvy! You came!"

  "I had a few minutes, so I thought I'd stop by and say hey. We really didn't get a chance to catch up when we met the other night." That was a good excuse, right?

  "Oh, never mind that." Hannah waved her hand in an overly dramatic gesture. Her giggle was a little too loud and forced. "Come on back."

  Three men lounged in the living area, two young and one middle-aged. Two were Tilsons. The other she didn't recognize. None spoke. They barely looked up before turning their attention back to the TV where a cheaply made movie was playing. Though there was nothing blatant on the screen at the moment, Olivia thought it might be porn.

  The house was built in a shotgun style with the kitchen behind the living room and three bedrooms and bath lined up behind that. At the end of the hallway that served the bedrooms stood a ladder reaching up into a large hole in the ceiling.

  "Don't mind the mess," Hannah called cheerfully as she flounced ahead.

  It was hard not to. Two of the bedroom doors were open and a glance inside told Olivia that they were the same as the living room and kitchen; a mass of litter, dirty dishes, and sour smelling clothes.

  The third bedroom was different. A set of bunks, two single beds, and two dressers filled the small space, but it was clean. There was no door on the closet. There was no room for one to open, but everything in it was hung in an orderly way or stored in boxes on the shelf above. Two plastic laundry baskets filled with folded clothes sat on each dresser. All the neatly made beds were covered in mismatched shades of pink. The single window was curtained in pink, too, but the fabric was dotted with kittens chasing balls of yellow yarn.

  "Do you like it?" In spite of the too tight tee shirt and the too short skirt, the woman asking the question reminded Olivia of the girl she'd known; painfully shy and unsure.