by Nancy Holder
“Hi, man, hi,” Jesse said.
“Hey, there,” Ed said.
“I’m Jesse,” Jesse told him. “This is Lucy. That is Justin. He’s my little brother. You’re a stranger.”
“Mordecai McBride.” Ed touched the brim of an imaginary hat. “And it seems you’ve already met my granddaughter, Katelyn.”
“We call her Kat. Like LaRue,” Jesse said. “LaRue is a cat. You pet him softly, softly. Justin is taking me home now.”
“That’s good, partner,” Ed said warmly. “When you ride that bike, hold on tight.”
“Lucy holds on tight, too,” Jesse said. “Holds on tight to Justin.”
Don’t we all? Katelyn couldn’t help thinking.
“Is that a fact?” Ed drawled.
“You can’t pet LaRue too hard,” Jesse said. “You don’t want to break his neck.”
“No one’s broken anybody’s neck,” Lucy said quickly.
“Let’s go home, buddy,” Justin added, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
“Goodbye, Kat,” Jesse said. “Softly, softly.”
“See you later,” Ed said as he opened the driver’s-side door and handed Katelyn a small paper sack. She opened it and saw that he’d purchased six or seven different kinds of painkillers. Touched, she selected the Motrin and broke the seal.
“The little girl’s mama come out to say thank you yet?” Ed asked Justin. He took the bottle from Katelyn and popped off the lid. As he handed it back to her, Katelyn and Justin shook their heads in unison.
“Maybe she’s scared to show her face. I really gave her what for.” Ed quirked his mouth into a smile. “I got a temper on me.”
That surprised Katelyn. She’d seen no evidence of that. Yet.
“Well, I’ll let you go,” Justin said.
“It was nice to meet y’all,” Lucy added.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Katelyn replied, practically squirming in her seat.
“Come to our house. Come and play,” Jesse said to Ed and Katelyn.
“I will,” Katelyn told him with a smile. “Thanks for the invitation.”
Ed started the truck and Katelyn gave the group a little wave as they pulled away, then leaned her aching head back against the seat. They drove off, leaving the drama behind them, and Katelyn was grateful.
“Seems Trick might be right to be jealous,” Ed said.
“Did you get any water?” she asked, pretending she hadn’t heard what he’d said.
“Damn,” he said. “Clean forgot.”
“Justin and Lucy are a couple.” Her voice sounded strained even to her own ears.
“They’re not married. And from what I just saw, it’s clear as day that he likes you. Man who risks his life like that could be a fine man. Looks after his brother, too.”
She closed her eyes against waves of pain. “I’m not into teen drama.” She was done talking about Justin. She licked her lips, then changed the subject. “Your friend who died … It, um, wasn’t at the clinic?”
The atmosphere in the truck shifted and Ed grew pensive. “His name was Mason Slater. I took him down to the medical center in Bentonville. It was his heart. He knew he was living on borrowed time.”
His voice was strained, and she felt sad for him. She reached over and patted his hand. “I’m sorry, Grandpa.” It was definitely starting to feel natural to call him that.
His face softened and he gave her hand a little squeeze. “Best name on earth,” he said softly.
When they got back to the cabin, she went up to her room to rest. She awoke several hours later to the most obnoxious odor she’d ever had the misfortune to smell. Bleary-eyed, she staggered down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“What is that?” she asked.
He was standing at the stove. “Artichokes. You said they were your favorites.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe they’re a different kind.”
“I’ve never made them before. All you do is boil them, right?”
“Right.” She lifted the lid off the pot, releasing a cloud of steam. Two plump artichokes sat in the simmering water. “That’s how you do it. I’m sure they’ll be great.”
She forced a smile but felt nauseated just thinking about it.
At dinner, she got down a few artichoke leaves and some steamed rice. Both she and Ed chalked up her nausea to the rabies shots. After dinner, they watched one of his old movies and she kept drifting off to sleep. Just as she was thinking of giving up and going to bed, there was a knock on the door. Her grandfather went to answer it. A shadow stood in the doorway and she squinted, trying to make out who it was.
Her grandfather stepped out onto the porch and shut the door behind him. He was out there for a long time and she couldn’t hear his voice above the TV.
Then the door opened and Ed and Trick walked into the house. Trick was wearing a cowboy hat, a sheepherder’s jacket, and jeans. Her heart stuttered, and she hardened it. He had deserted her. And look what had happened.
“Think I’ll be out in the garage if you need me,” Ed said quietly.
Katelyn pointedly looked back at the TV. Her palms were sweaty. Silence was her weapon of choice, and she used it.
“Kat, I’m sorry. I was an epic jerk. I … Something happened and I reacted badly and I’m sorry.”
The silence grew. She tried to clear her throat or take a breath or do something, but she sat statue-still, barely able to think.
“Kat,” he said.
“You should have come by to apologize this morning so you could have taken me to the hospital,” she said icily.
His eyes widened and he moved to crouch next to her. “Hospital?”
She wondered what they’d discussed on the porch if not that. She’d assumed her grandfather had lit into him for not taking her to the clinic the night before, or not catching the dog—thereby putting her cover story in jeopardy.
“I was attacked.”
“What?” He sat down beside her and took her hand. She stiffened, trying to put some psychic distance between them, but Trick didn’t seem to notice. He studied her face. “What happened? Kat, tell me. Now.” His voice was rough, raw with concern. He swept his gaze over her body, which was completely covered by her sweats and a plaid blanket, then cupped her face with both his hands.
She jerked her head away and glared at him.
“Kat. It’s me,” he said, as if that would make her feel better. “Who attacked you?”
His fear penetrated her defenses, softening her resolve. Maybe it was because he kept touching her. Or because he sounded so worried. She hesitated. She wanted to tell someone and she wanted to make Trick feel as guilty as possible, but Trick and her grandfather were close. What if he spilled the beans about what had really happened?
“Not who. What. It was a dog. When I was leaving the party.”
Trick blanched. “How big of a dog?”
What a weird question. “Big enough to take a chunk out of my calf. My grandpa had to take me in for rabies shots just in case.” She lifted her sweatpants leg and pointed to her bandaged calf. He leaned in to look at it, embarrassing her, and she pulled the pants leg back down.
“Kat, I am so sorry,” Trick said, face crumpling. “I should have been there for you. I fell asleep in my car. The sun woke me up. I saw that your truck was gone and Eric said he thought you’d left a while before.”
“I left right after you yelled at me,” she said. “Last night.”
He looked stunned. “I had no idea.”
She remained silent.
“This is my fault. I’ll never let you out of my sight again.”
“I don’t need a keeper,” she snapped. “I need a friend I can count on.”
He hung his head. His profile seemed to be etched into the soft glow of the room, like frosted glass. He was so good-looking. “And that is one hundred percent me, except I don’t want to be your friend. And I know you can translate that.” He reached out as if to take her hand, but he didn’
t. “Whatever you need, I’ve got your back.”
There was no teasing, no jokes, just complete sincerity from him. It was a bit unnerving, but it also made her feel better. Still, she found herself giving a little more credence to Cordelia’s less-than-fuzzy opinion of him. Plus she needed closure.
“You were an epic jerk.”
And to rub his nose in it.
He gazed off into the distance and hung his hands between his legs. “I know.”
“What happened?” she asked him, wanting, deserving an explanation.
“Can we bookmark that? It had nothing to do with you or wanting to be with you.”
She didn’t reply; she just looked at him, waiting.
“Fair enough.” He shrugged and continued. “I didn’t expect a wake for Becky.”
It didn’t really answer her question or explain anything.
“I know I blew it. I wanted you to have some fun,” he said, sounding regretful. “It’s what you need.”
“Oh. So you know what I need,” she said.
“I do.” He nodded as if to himself. “And it wasn’t that.”
“What I need is … a foot rub,” she said, wiggling her feet. She couldn’t help herself. Serious didn’t sit well on him, and after the long, weird day, she wasn’t up to staying mad.
He looked down at her feet and then back at her face. “I said I got your back. I never said anything about your stinky feet.”
She laughed and after a moment, he joined in. But her headache was back, and she was unbelievably tired.
“I’ve got to get some sleep,” she said.
“I’ll see you Monday morning, though?” he asked.
She nodded. “You’ll see me.”
He made a show of crossing himself. “Thank you, God. I am forgiven.”
“On probation,” she said, correcting him. “Way on probation.”
He mimicked flipping a switch. “All systems on alert.”
“Okay.” She couldn’t even make herself smile.
“It’s not funny, is it?” He sighed. “I’ll see you.”
And then he was gone. She stared at the door, jerking when it opened again. A little flare of hope was quashed when she saw her grandfather.
“Did you get him sorted out?” he asked.
“I think so.”
“Good. How are you feeling?”
“I’m losing it,” she admitted, yawning.
“Off to bed with you, then. We can finish the movie tomorrow.”
Katelyn brushed her teeth and washed her face, then wearily lay down on her bed. As she stared up into the skylight, the room seemed to swirl and tilt. Her eyes began to flutter shut; then, at the last possible moment before falling asleep, she thought she saw two blue eyes staring down at her.
Green eyes.
Yellow ones.
Black.
Pad. Pad. Pad. Claws retracted.
Sprawled on the forest floor, Katelyn wore her beautiful dress.
The trees shook. Moonlight shimmered.
Katelyn, a voice whispered. I’m coming for you.
Pad.
Claws.
She knew she was in bed in her room, dreaming, but she was covered in sweat, her muscles cramping, her bones aching. Her body felt like a suit she was wearing, like something artificial that was too small. Her skin was stretched taut.
She knew she was asleep.
And that something was in the room.
She was back in the clinic on Monday morning to get her second shot. Ed drove her himself; he had called Trick and told him about the change in schedule.
After a long wait in an icy examination room, a nurse appeared and gave Katelyn an injection in the arm, then was about to bustle away when Katelyn blurted out, “I’ve been having headaches. And feeling sick to my stomach.” And having crazy dreams.
“That’s all very normal,” the woman said, sounding harried. “You’re having a mild reaction to the vaccine. Do you have a headache now?”
“No, but—”
“You only have two more injections. Next one is Friday, and then the Friday after that. Then your discomfort will completely disappear.”
Katelyn certainly hoped it would.
“I don’t know what’s normal about it,” Katelyn told her grandfather as they sipped coffee in the truck. Or rather, he sipped and she held on to her cup with both hands. The smell alone was making her stomach roil.
“You want to go home?” he asked her. He was driving her to school. His voice boomed in the confined space, setting her on edge.
“Why are you shouting at me?”
He frowned. “I’m not.” He gave her a worried look. “Do you want to go home?” he asked again, at a significantly lower volume.
She considered. It would be nice to go back to bed and get over her “mild” symptoms. But she wanted to see Cordelia. If things got too bad, she could always go lie down in the health care office.
“I’m good,” she told him.
They bounced along toward the back of the school with the seat springs twanging more loudly than Katelyn had noticed before. The jostling hurt her head.
She scanned the cars for Trick’s Mustang and spotted it, and then the most bizarre thing happened: his license plate popped into her field of vision like a close-up in a movie. It was white with red letters and, below those, an image of a wolf, also in red. The words ARKANSAS STATE. GO RED WOLVES! were spelled out in black.
“Hey,” she began, but then it was over. The back of Trick’s car was the same as it always had been before, and the plate was too small for her to read it. She couldn’t even make out the tiny wolf’s head; it was just a blob.
Staring hard, she tried to will her eyes to do it again, with no luck.
She stole a glance at Ed. Her grandfather was busy negotiating the lot. Her mom used to have migraines, and she’d told Katelyn what they were like—flickering vision, disorientation, and then hideous, horrible pain. She said that sometimes she would stare down at her hands and they would look enormous. At the first symptom, Giselle took painkillers and drank coffee—something to do with the caffeine helping blood flow. Maybe that was what was happening to her. She fished in her purse for the Motrin and forced it down with the now-cold coffee before her body had a chance to rebel.
Her grandfather rolled to a stop. “If you don’t feel good later on, call me and I’ll come get you,” he said.
“Thanks.” Now she dithered a moment about going with him. Then she opened the door and climbed down.
As soon as she walked into history, Cordelia gestured impatiently for Katelyn to sit down beside her.
“Oh, my God, what happened to you this weekend?” Cordelia asked. “I heard you were attacked by Sasquatch.”
“No such luck. It was a dog,” Katelyn replied, continuing her lie.
“Sam’s mom works at the clinic,” Cordelia said. “She said your grandfather brought you in for something and you were really shaken up.”
“Dog,” she said again, but this time she felt her cheeks warm.
Cordelia stared at her intently. “You don’t sound too sure.”
Katelyn needed to talk to someone, tell someone about what had happened and all the other weirdness since. It couldn’t be Trick. She didn’t want him worrying her grandfather. And Kimi was getting more distant every time she talked to her—and she hadn’t called her back all weekend. Cordelia was who was left.
“Okay, but if I tell you what really happened, will you promise not to tell anyone? Especially my grandfather?”
The other girl nodded.
“It wasn’t a dog.”
Cordelia stared at her. Then Mr. Henderson walked in.
“Happy Monday,” he said. “Let’s do a check-in on how the projects are going.”
“What was it?” Cordelia whispered.
“Ladies, how’s it going?” Mr. Henderson smiled pleasantly at Katelyn and Cordelia. “Care to bring us up to date?”
“Kat?” Cordelia whisper
ed, obviously dying of curiosity.
Katelyn nodded. “Sure, Mr. Henderson,” she said. “We’re all about the silver mine. And the Hellhound,” she added, uncertain why she did so.
“Hellhound, eh? Love it,” Mr. Henderson replied. “Be sure to document your sources.”
Katelyn nodded and then he turned to the next pair of students.
“Lunch,” Katelyn whispered to Cordelia. “I’ll tell you about it then.”
Cordelia barely responded.
“Did something happen to you over the weekend?” Katelyn whispered.
Cordelia shook her head and looked away. “No,” she said, but Katelyn knew a lie when she heard one.
One look at her leg was enough to get Katelyn out of P.E. The coach sent her to study hall, where she spent the time with her head on her desk, praying the day would end.
When the bell rang, she decided to track down Sam and resume their conversation from Friday night. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Sam had been about to tell her something important.
Yet after Katelyn had looked what felt like everywhere, Sam was still not to be found. Her headache got worse and she considered calling her grandfather, but wanted to make it to lunch so she could talk to Cordelia.
At lunchtime, Katelyn studied the stained-glass window of the saint with the wolf as she and Cordelia passed beneath it. Why would the priests put a wolf in a church window? There had to be another story there.
They left the main building and headed on dry brown grass to a scattering of old-fashioned picnic tables. It was chilly, but Cordelia had insisted they go outside to eat.
As Katelyn opened her lunch bag, she wondered if Ed’s peanut butter had gone rancid. Her sandwich stank. More mild symptoms?
“Hey,” Trick said, trotting up beside Katelyn. “How did it go at the clinic?”
“We’re having a girl lunch.” Cordelia’s tone was flinty, unwelcoming.
Trick looked at Katelyn for confirmation. Embarrassed, she nodded, and he shrugged, his face a mask. “Sorry,” Katelyn said. “It went fine.”
“Good.” He looked relieved, then gave Cordelia a cold glare before turning to leave. Katelyn watched him as he wandered over to a picnic table where a couple of the kids from Sam’s party were sitting, but Sam was missing.