Howl of the Sequoia (Secrets of the Sequoia Book 1)

by Deidre Huesmann

  A sudden movement caught her eye. Rachael glanced over to find Vera waving frantically at her. Rachael had barely reached the already full table before Vera insistently pulled her into the last tiny space open.

  “Guys, guys, this is Rachael,” the bubbly girl interrupted her friends’ conversations. “The one who saved Coleen from the wolf.”

  What? Rachael stared. Vera gave her a conspiratorial wink.

  “Then you’re a better person than me,” quipped a girl with a pleasantly round face. She gave a white, toothy smile from across the table. Her cocoa-colored lips mesmerized Rachael when she spoke. “I’d’ve let her get eaten.”

  The remark elicited giggles from the others. Vera notably ignored the comment, but made the introduction anyway. “Obviously, that’s Shawna.”

  “Hi,” said Rachael awkwardly. Shawna grinned.

  One of the girls leaned in, her drastically arched eyebrows high upon her forehead. “So you’re the Wolf Whisperer, huh?”

  Rachael wasn’t entirely certain she liked that nickname. “I guess so.”

  Shawna rolled her eyes. “You don’t call people names like that to their face, Nanine.” The girl made a face in response.

  “Could be worse,” Rachael said, hoping to deflect. “Coleen ended up being the Dirt Whisperer.”

  Of all the girls, Shawna laughed the loudest. Though she felt a little claustrophobic, squished between Vera and Field Trip Jain, Rachael automatically felt at ease. Something about Shawna’s stark white grin made her want to mirror the expression.

  “She totally deserved it,” said the fiery-haired girl beside her. “After all the crap she’s said.”

  Beside Shawna, a blonde with a generous mouth scoffed. “Not like it’s the first time. Remember, in third grade she told the whole class her mom died in a car accident?”

  “Or when she made all the guys believe Anna-Leigh was a prostitute and that was the only reason she could afford new shoes last year,” pointed out a green-eyed girl. Rachael recalled her as Amanda.

  Rachael hadn’t necessarily assumed she was Coleen’s only target, but as one unbelievable story followed another, she was astounded how little love Coleen had failed to garner. Each girl at the table had a story to tell. Shawna angrily recounted a personal attack on her weight two years ago. One of the clarinet players from band class mentioned how, after asking out one of the boys Coleen had been eyeing, pudding had mysteriously flooded her locker between classes.

  Fortunately, the tirade against their resident mean girl didn’t take up the entire lunch period. Jain brought up her upcoming birthday party, going so far as to extend a belated invitation to Rachael. Rachael assured her she would ask her parents after school.

  She felt so wonderfully lax in the shoulders that when the warning bell rang Rachael was disappointed. As she crumpled her empty sack lunch into a tiny ball, Vera said, “You know what would be fun? A sleepover.”

  Rachael tossed her garbage into an overflowing can by the doorway. “Maybe,” she replied. “I don’t know if my dad will let me. I’m grounded.”

  “Is he real strict?”

  She smiled. “If I jaywalked I’d have to scrub all the bathrooms with baking soda and vinegar.”

  Falling into step with her in the hallway, Vera said, “That’s okay. We can say we’re studying.”

  That gave Rachael pause. “I’m not a great liar.”

  “Then we’ll actually study,” persisted Vera. She stopped Rachael in the middle of the walkway, her pretty blue eyes spilling over with hope. “We could practice our music sheets together. And you could start challenging other flutists! Wouldn’t it be fun to sit in the front row with me?”

  The thought had never occurred to Rachael. Band was just an extra-curricular class to fill her time, not something she had ever seriously considered pursuing after high school.

  And yet, if she were in the first row, her mother could actually see her when they played in school concerts.

  A unique sense of determination and excitement flooded her veins. “Yeah. It would be.”

  If smiles could make a person’s head fall off, Vera would have come dangerously close. “Great! I’ll ask my mom. Maybe in a couple weeks, if you’re not grounded anymore.”

  Rachael grinned. “Okay.”

  With a cheery wave, Vera bounced off.

  After that, Rachael’s spirits were soaring. The idea of a sleepover was a little alien to her, but still fun.

  Her final period was algebra, and Shawna went out of her way to ensure Rachael said next to her. The vivacious girl spent the entire class whispering snide remarks that made Rachael try to conceal her laughter. Snarky as she was, Shawna proved herself to be unusually bright. She always seemed to know the right answer, and even went so far as to help correct Rachael when she applied an equation wrong.

  By the end, Shawna had convinced her to exchange phone numbers. “So we can talk again—and really work on your math.”

  Shawna stuck beside her as Rachael made her way to Mrs. Whitley’s class for her first afternoon of detention. By the time the room had emptied, Mrs. Whitley had to order Shawna out before the girl was willing to stop talking and leave. After that, even with the menial task of sorting every single period’s assignment in alphabetical order, Rachael couldn’t help but feel happy.

  She was still smiling when Jackson caught up with her. His eyebrows shot up. “Good day, RayRay?”

  “I had fun,” she admitted.

  “Cool.”

  The ride home was comfortably quiet. Rachael toyed with the slip of paper Shawna had hastily scribbled on. She was unable to contain her silly smile.

  She couldn’t wait to tell her mom about her day.

  But when Rachael swung open the door to their home, her giddiness screeched to a halt.

  “—point is that she needs to focus on her future.”

  “She’s a teenager. For god’s sake, let her act like one now and then!”

  “Why, so she can go romping with any damn boy who gives her a wink and a nod? So she can get knocked up and become a worthless dropout? Don’t we have enough going on in this house without her spitting out another mouth to feed?”

  “Our daughter is not an idiot, Henry!”

  Her pulse quickening, Rachael turned to her brother. Jackson’s face was a blank slate. His normally warm brown eyes looked dead.

  The sliding glass door slammed shut from the dining room. Moments later Henry emerged from the kitchen, red in the face, and paused in the hallway at the sight of his children.

  Shortly, he said, “I’m late for work. Rachael, don’t forget to do the dishes tonight.”

  She scrambled to get out of his way. After the door crashed, much harder than the last, Rachael whispered, “What just happened?”

  Jackson shrugged. “Nothing new.” Ignoring her protests, he stormed up the stairs and to his room. At least he had the grace to shut the door normally.

  Stricken, Rachael left her backpack in the foyer and hurried for the dining room. A glance outside showed her mother sagged against the stone wall beneath a cluster of lavender aster flowers. Her mom’s head was bowed, her pose listless and forlorn. Even her hair seemed limper than usual.

  Rachael’s heart was lead in her shoes as she trudged outside. The sound of the glass door didn’t appear to register with her mother, so she tried speaking. Her voice came out small and childish. “Mama?”

  Her mom looked up, her eyes wide. A moment too late she tried to give her daughter a reassuring smile. “Your detention is over already?”

  “Yeah.” Rachael leaned against the wall as well, watching her mother carefully. At least it didn’t look like she had been crying. “Why were you and dad fighting?”

  Her mother’s expression fractured. “You heard. I’m so sorry, little lamb.”

  Hundreds of questions bombarded Rachael, ranging from, Why? to Are you okay? To her surprise and shame, what came out was, “Daddy thinks I’m worthless?”

  Color
flooded her mother’s face. “Of course not. Your father is mad with me, not you.”

  “But why?”

  Oddly, her mother perked up. Her smile returned, and this time it reached her eyes. “How would you like to let Mr. Moreno have you over for dinner?”

  The name only drew blanks. “Who?”

  “That nice young man with the little boy.”

  Aaron.

  Apparently Holden hadn’t been kidding. Aaron would want to talk to her . . . but why? Because of an unnatural wolf attack? Was it a pet of his? If so, it would make sense that he would want to apologize, but Holden could have easily done so on his behalf. Or maybe that was what Holden had been trying to do at school—but why did he need to pull her aside for that?

  It took Rachael a moment to realize her mother was waiting for an answer. Fumbling, she asked, “When?”

  Tucking a lock of her sad hair behind an ear, her mom answered, “Tomorrow night. Or Sunday. He said you could choose.”

  Part of Rachael wanted to decline. A bigger part was curious, and after a mostly good day, she was inclined to give in to the curiosity. “Okay. If Daddy says yes.”

  Her mother’s smile turned sardonic. “Last I checked, your father isn’t a single parent yet.” She pulled away from the wall to hug her daughter. Rachael wrapped her arms around her mom’s tiny waist, wincing when she felt the individual bones down the length of her mother’s spine.

  Gently, her mom continued, “I think you should go. You haven’t hung out with friends in a while, and Holden seems like such a nice boy. Mr. Moreno said he’d be cooking dinner for you.”

  “I’d like that,” Rachael mumbled into her mother’s collar. She clung a bit harder. “I made a couple new friends today.”

  The news lit her mother up like dawn breaking. Excited, Sheila detached her daughter from the hug and pressed for details. Avoiding the parts with Coleen, as well as Holden’s random profession and hug, Rachael complied. The more she shared, the more health her mother seemed to absorb from the good news.

  “That’s wonderful, RayRay,” she exclaimed. For the first time in weeks she stood upright on her own. Rachael was transfixed how such a simple thing could revitalize her mother so rapidly.

  The air was beginning to chill. They made their way back inside. Her mom strode directly for the kitchen, talking about how she felt good enough to make a full-course dinner. “How does chicken alfredo sound?” Rachael nodded an agreement. “Right, then. Why don’t you go call Mr. Moreno back and say you’ll be there? Then come help me make a fresh salad.”

  “Okay.”

  The cordless phone waited in the dining room, fixed beside the back door. It seemed horridly outdated, but their current finances allowed only Henry a cell phone. The rest of them relied on the landline.

  A small square piece of paper was taped to the back of the phone, bearing the sloping scrawl of her mother’s handwriting. Aaron’s number. As she punched in the numbers, apprehension made her fingers tremble. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d called anyone, much less an older man who happened to be her new friend’s guardian. She wasn’t even certain she could recognize his voice.

  One ring blared in her ear before the other line picked up. “Mrs. Adair, it is wonderful to hear from you so soon.”

  Nope. That’s him, all right. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Rachael said, “Actually it’s . . . me. Um. It’s Rachael.”

  Aaron’s voice went from smooth to downright pleasant. “Ms. Adair, then. This is a surprise.”

  Rachael shifted from one foot to the other, wondering if she was making the right decision. Even his voice made her skin tingle, and it wasn’t exactly a good feeling. “Mama says I can come over.”

  “I see. But is that what you want?”

  The question seemed out of place, a little too courteous. All the same, Rachael said, “Yeah. If we can do Sunday.”

  “Of course, Ms. Adair. This is entirely up to you. Please do not feel obligated,” Aaron said in the same gentle voice he’d used with Nathan last she’d seem him.

  “I don’t,” she insisted. Then she realized a problem. “I just don’t know how I’m getting there yet.”

  Aaron was quiet for a moment. “If you cannot get a ride, I would be more than happy to pick you up. Or Holden may, if you prefer.”

  Something about the way he offered Holden as a service made her blush. “I think I can figure it out. Thanks.”

  “You have my number if you change your mind.” Again Aaron went quiet, but this time she heard muffled voices, as though he was covering the mouthpiece with his hand. When he came back to the line, his tone had cooled. “Holden would like a word with you.”

  Uneasy with the abrupt change, Rachael only said, “Okay.”

  Within a moment Holden’s voice came through. He sounded exhausted. “So you’re coming over, huh?”

  “Uh huh.” Suddenly wishing she had more privacy, Rachael opened the glass door and stepped outside again. The cool air felt good on her hot skin. “Is that okay?”

  Holden hesitated. “Yeah. I’d love to cook for you.”

  His voice was strained, almost as though he were being watched. Is Aaron as strict as Daddy? she wondered. Aloud Rachael said, “What are you making?”

  “Not sure yet. You like salmon?”

  She did, and told him so.

  “I can do that, then. I prefer it grilled with the skin still on.”

  Rachael had the feeling this was his version of babbling. “Me, too,” she said awkwardly. For some reason it was harder to convey her thoughts over the phone, as though instead of a few wires the phone lines were an electric wall even hardened convicts were wary to scale.

  “Awesome.” He paused again. Rachael could think of nothing to fill the silence. Finally, he said, “I’ll see you then.”

  “Bye,” she whispered.

  To her surprise, he hung up. No giving the phone back to Aaron, nothing else to say. Rachael stared at the contraption in her hand, but when it failed to ring again she grudgingly went back inside and hung it up.

  She wanted to go, and she was sort of excited to see where Holden lived and ate his dinners and did his homework. But Aaron’s presence—control, really—over the entire affair made her uneasy.

  “Little lamb, could you cut the carrots, please?”

  Her reverie broken, Rachael moved to take the knife from her mother and help.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the end, Henry insisted on driving her. He allowed the terms of her house arrest to be lifted between the hours of 4 and 8 in the evening. They wouldn’t leave a minute before 4 o’clock and she had to be in the Moreno’s driveway before eight. To make certain there was no further conflict, her mother let Rachael borrow her slim silver watch after explaining it was always set five minutes before her father’s.

  Adding to Rachael’s stress was her uncertainty of what to wear. Typically it was not a primary concern of hers, but the cryptic attitudes emanating from both Holden and Aaron had her second-guessing herself and her entire wardrobe. Suddenly the practicality of T-shirts, jeans, and sneakers seemed dumpy and tawdry for such an event.

  After an hour of fretting, Rachael settled on a pair of dark denim jeans she rarely wore and a blue shirt that reminded her of Vera’s eyes. All of her shoes were dirty from hiking or gardening, but a pair of plain white and pink sneakers were clean enough to do the job.

  There was one thing she could do. Rachael found her mother in the master bedroom, humming as she changed the sheets.

  Lovely as it was to see her mother more active and happy than typical, Rachael interrupted her. “Could you do my hair, please?”

  Her mom’s eyes crinkled. “What would you like?”

  Since Rachael couldn’t decide, she left it to her mother to do as she pleased. Sheila’s fingers were deft and soothing as she worked, stroking Rachael’s fine hair to a shine with an old paddle brush.

  When she was done, the full-sized mirror reflecte
d the loose bun piled atop Rachael’s head. Her neck was uncomfortably exposed for the first time in years.

  “You look beautiful,” her mother said.

  “Thanks, Mama.”

  The woman’s lips pursed in thought. “Just a moment.” She went to the bathroom to retrieve a curling iron, pulled a couple locks loose at the crown of Rachael’s head, and curled them. Once she was satisfied, she was positively beaming.

  Rachael felt overdone now, but she was grateful. “I like it.”

  “I bet Holden will, too.”

  Casting her eyes down to the reflection of her stained sneakers, Rachael said, “It’s not like that.”

  Her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Sweetheart, it’s okay to like a boy. Even with all you’re going through, it’s not a bad thing. He seemed nice. If you like him, give it a try.”

  Rachael couldn’t think of a reply. She nodded.

  She ended up ready an hour too early. Immediately Rachael wanted to change her clothes, knowing she had nothing significantly better. To distract herself she flipped through channels on the downstairs television.

  After a time her father found her. He sat beside her on the couch, focusing on her nervous channel-surfing without a word.

  Rachael hadn’t spoken to him since Friday afternoon. She tried to keep her eyes off him, but the occasional glance in her periphery told her he was tense.

  His silence keyed her up so much that she jumped when he spoke.

  “I owe you an apology.”

  Gripping the remote like a lifeline, Rachael kept her mouth shut and gazed ahead.

  “I shouldn’t have said what you heard,” Henry continued gruffly. “It wasn’t about you and I shouldn’t have made it that way. You’re a good girl with good grades and you’ve done a good job taking care of your mother.”

  Good, good, good. The word echoed in her head and down her gradually stiffening spine. When she couldn’t tell him it was okay, she reached for something else that was true. “I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you, too.” He stood and shoved his massive hands in his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “If you want to go, let’s go.”