“Now, I gotta go find your poor cousin and make this right. I’ll speak with you tomorrow. Wrap your head around it by then. What’s done is done.”
With that, Patrick Fenn closed the front door, and the space felt enormous in his absence.
Deacon waited a couple minutes, listening to Patrick’s truck start up and roll out of the driveway. Then Deacon went to the front door and opened it. Gracie was perched on the porch steps, waiting.
“He didn’t mean it, hon.”
Gracie shook her head, startling at his appearance as she wiped away her tears. “Yeah, he did.”
Deacon sat down beside her on the steps, jostling her shoulders as he pulled her in to hug her.
She frowned. “I don’t know why everybody thinks that. I’m not you know.”
“Not what?”
“A lesbian. Everybody thinks I’m a freakin lesbian, because no guys will date me.”
“That’s not true,” Deacon said, trying to look at her. Gracie turned her face away, shaking her head.
“No. It’s true. I’ve never dated anyone because every guy I like thought I was too -”
Deacon waited for her to finish, but she seemed to be at a loss for words. He finished for her. “Badass?”
She chuckled, then sniffled. “I guess.”
It was a well-known fact among bears that the females of their kind were often stronger than the men. This was alluring to most bears, but to a lot of the norms? Sadly, a lot of normal men seemed to find Gracie intimidating. He didn’t blame them, but he also pitied them. He was sure there were very few women in the world as cool as Gracie Fenn.
“Hey. It’s like my mum always said. ‘Destiny has an easier time finding the people who stick to their path.’”
“What the hell does that mean?” Gracie asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“It means if you pursue what makes you happy, you’ll be heading in the right direction.”
“Right direction for what?”
“Everything you want,” he said.
She snorted. “Yeah? Well, I really want a box of fucking Ring Dings, right about now.”
Deacon chuckled. “Then let’s go get some.”
Deacon kept Gracie company while she ignored Patrick’s phone calls for a few hours, driving around Falkirk’s Seat and Blackrock, aimlessly. They crossed the boundaries of the reservation a couple times, and Deacon found himself staring out toward the water, wondering who among the tribe he’d be betrothed to if he actually went through with the engagement. He thought of Carissa, her morning text still awaiting response. He dreaded the argument that would come, dreaded going back to Boston and leaving Falkirk’s Seat behind. Here he could listen to sound of the waves and lose himself. Here he could shift and roam any time of the day, the woods around the Fenn land stretching for twenty miles in some places. How could he leave this for Boston?
No, Deacon. How could you forget Boston and accept an arranged marriage? This isn’t the Dark Ages, for Christ’s sake!
Still, he stared off at the reservation road, imagining the resulting Kalmud – or worse – that might befall his family if he refused.
God damn it, Patrick was right about him. And he was going to be fucked for it.
Deacon picked up his phone and pulled up Carissa’s text.
I’m sorry. I was distracted before I left. Are you free to talk?
CHAPTER FOUR
Maggie stood at her bedroom window, watching the trees whip about in the wind. A storm was coming – in every sense of the word.
“Did you tell them I might refuse?”
Her father swallowed, his breath coming in labored exhales as he leaned in her doorjamb. “I did. I was told refusal was not an option.”
Maggie’s fists clenched. God damn it, she was thirty one now. They’d left her alone this long, why were they pushing this now?
The last breeding female of the Talbot clan sold to a Fenn for a piece of land.
“We knew this day was coming, my girl. I just wish I’d let you go when we had the chance.”
Maggie frowned. Her father referred to the year before when her baby brother, Theron, left to go to college. Theron was the first Talbot to ever do so, and Maynard had fought on behalf of his only living biological child, standing up to Richard White Eagle in front of the entire council, and winning to gain the tribe’s permission for Theron to go. In the celebratory moments following that decision, Maynard had weighed the notion of allowing Maggie to ‘drive her brother’ to college in Massachusetts, and just never come home.
“Not much they can do if you’re already gone,” he’d said.
Yet, Maggie refused. Even if she wasn’t Maynard Talbot’s blood, he was her father, and she couldn’t leave him. She wouldn’t.
“We could lie, couldn’t we? Say I’ve contracted some horrible STD or something.”
Maynard chuckled, softly. “Shifters can’t catch such things.”
“God damn it.”
Maggie stared out the window as the wind kicked up, watching the trees on her father’s land dance – land that was granted to him by Chief White Eagle in return for pledging one of his daughters to an advantageous marriage once they were grown.
Well, he only had one daughter left now, and sadly, there would be nothing advantageous about this marriage once her new husband discovered she wasn’t as advertised.
“Damn it, the Fenns are white men. Since when do the white bear tribes engage in arranged marriage?”
Maynard sauntered into the room, taking a seat in her reading chair. Maynard Talbot was the oldest of the Talbot brothers by a decade or more, and though he was healthy, his age was catching up with him.
Maggie watched him settle in his seat, and frowned. She hated to think he would lose this house because of her.
“The Fenn chief is an old fashioned man. His was an arranged marriage, as well.”
Maggie slumped down onto the edge of the bed. “For fuck’s sake.”
Maynard grumbled at her in Peskotomuhkati. “Speak well,” he said, which was a nice way of saying, ‘stop spewing shit from the mouth.’
Maggie exhaled, pressing her face into her hands. “What am I going to do?”
Maynard shifted in his seat, the bones in his hands cracking and clicking as he moved. He took a long time to respond. “I met this man. He seemed a good man.”
Maggie stared at her father a moment. She wanted to jump down his throat. How could you meet him? What am I, livestock? Yet, she knew her people’s ways. Their numbers were falling. There were no more Allens left now, and with her sister gone, the Talbots believed her to be the last surviving female of her generation. Keep the line alive. That was their only goal – just don’t let the Talbot line die.
“If he’s a good man, then he doesn’t deserve to be fooled into marrying me, now does he?”
Maynard grumbled to himself. “Any man would be lucky to have you, Margaret Light Foot.”
She laughed, sadly. The clock in the corner read 5:04 PM. She was due at the council hall by 6:00 PM to prepare to meet her betrothed. The word ‘surreal’ didn’t even begin to encompass her world at that moment. She sighed, rubbing her hands together against the chill of the air. “Alright, Papa. I’ll put on some makeup then, shall I?”
The council hall was already teeming with activity, many of the Talbot cousins and Aunts and Uncles would be there to celebrate the engagement. Maggie climbed out of the passenger seat of her father’s car and headed toward the tired single floored building where every tribal gathering and council meeting took place. Maynard climbed out of the car, his gray hair braided with two colorful beads at its end, the collar of his plaid shirt buttoned up tight. He looked ready for a serious round of square dancing, but Maggie didn’t have the heart to tell him.
She rounded the front of the car and hooked her arm with her father’s just as a familiar vehicle caught her eye by the corner of the council hall – Karen Talbot was there.
She hadn’t seen t
he woman she once called mother in over six months. Maggie wasn’t looking forward to breaking that streak.
“Welcome, Maggie Light Foot,” Richard White Eagle said as she approached the council. The full tribal council was not present tonight. Though the full Tribal Council consisted of several members of the Talbot family, most of the true council were not bears. This event was for the shifters and their kin, alone.
“Thank you, Chief,” Maggie said, bowing her head to her uncle. Every seat at the table was full tonight – Richard White Eagle sat at its center, his younger brother, Paul Talbot, at his right side. The rest of the council consisted of three of her male cousins, Robert, Graham, and Paul, Jr. Maggie offered each of them a nod, making sure to greet them in order of importance. It felt almost strange to offer deference to her baby cousin, Paul, Jr. She could remember changing the young man’s diapers.
The doors to the council hall creaked as an unfamiliar pair entered the hall – a middle aged woman with short brown hair and a massive man, his face shielded by a full gray beard.
“The Fenns should all arrive within the hour. Then we will enjoy a hunt together before celebrating with a proper feast,” Richard said, gesturing for Uncle Paul to greet the guests.
Maggie watched the massive man by the door – Patrick Fenn. She’d seen him around, a man her father spoke well of, but seeing him now, knowing that they were mere moments from this beast of a man joining her for a ‘hunt’ made him unnerving.
“A hunt?” Maynard asked, his voice catching in his throat.
Richard turned his gaze to his older brother. “Yes? It is customary for the betrothed couple to hunt together as a declaration -”
“The couple, yes, but are they not to hunt alone?”
Richard shot a glance over his shoulder. Maggie followed his gaze to Karen Talbot, her once adopted mother. Maggie’s stomach twisted, instantly. Had Karen told them her secret? Was that why Chief White Eagle intended to join them on their first hunt together.
Richard cleared his throat. “I know it is customary for the couple -”
“It is tradition!” Maynard said, his volume rising.
“- but given this marriage is the first to join the Talbot and Fenn clans, I feel it would benefit both families if the hunt include myself, as well as the Fenn chief. You may refrain if you so wish, brother.”
“Does the father not have a say?”
Maynard was growing more agitated by the moment, and the tension was spreading throughout the place as everyone present began to fidget and murmur uncomfortably.
They continued to argue, even Richard’s sons now murmuring in discomfort at his side.
“Brother, why does this trouble you so?” Paul asked, leaning into the table as though beseeching his older brother to be calm. Maggie felt her blood boiling and her heart racing. Speaking out against Chief White Eagle just wasn’t done. The man had a reputation that carried well off the reservation, a reputation that was well earned. He’d challenged all of his older brothers to become chief, and only Paul accepted the challenge and walked away.
Maggie heard Maynard speak of Uncle Ted more than once – the oldest of the Talbot brothers and the man intended to be chief. He died from his wounds after accepting Richard’s challenge. Maynard had refused to fight.
Both men’s voices began to rise, Richard shifting in his chair as though he might stand up. Maggie reached for her father’s arm, squeezing it, trying to assuage him from pressing further. What could they do? Someone was bound to find out one day? Spare the poor man intended to be her groom, just don’t anger Chief.
“Papa,” she said, as softly as she could.
“Speak, brother. Do you wish to resolve this in word or in -?”
“No!” Maggie said, loud enough to startle the entire room. She wouldn’t let Richard finish that sentence. She wouldn’t let him challenge her father here. Challenging him in front of the entire Talbot clan would leave him no choice but to fight, and Maynard Keeps His Word could not beat Richard White Eagle in a Kalmud.
And they both knew it.
“What do you have to say, Maggie Light Foot?” Richard asked, his tone softening in a strange, satisfied way.
Maggie swallowed. “It is resolved. There is no need to fight.”
“And why do you say that?”
Maggie swallowed. “Because I refuse the match.”
The entire hall became electric, people hissing their surprise to one another, watching her with wary eyes, as though she were some lit explosive about to go off. Patrick Fenn’s eyes were trained on her, the woman at his side offering a sad, but sympathetic smile.
“You do what?” Richard asked, half laughing at how incredulous such a notion was to him.
“I refuse the match. I won’t marry him.”
Richard stood from the table, rounding the edge to approach her just as Maynard grabbed her arm, whispering his pleas. ‘Don’t do this,’ he said. ‘We’ll find a way, just don’t do this.’
“Margaret Light Foot Talbot, you were welcomed into this family and as such, you are expected to show fealty to your clan.”
“And I do, but I am not a prize heifer, Chief White Eagle. I will not be sold.”
The gasps grew louder, more agitated and nervous.
“You will do as is expected. Or you will not call yourself a Talbot. Are you prepared to accept the consequences of this decision?”
She startled. She’d never expected him to relent so quickly. Maggie took a shaking breath and nodded. Yes, she was.
Exile. Severance from all that she knew and loved, or watch her father get dragged into a Kalmud with their chief – or worse, they’d learn her secret. That couldn’t happen. No Kalmud could settle the lie. She’d accept homelessness before she’d watch her father punished for something as innocent as truly loving his child.
Richard stood over her, his tan skin taking on a burgundy hue as his temper flared. “You bring shame upon your family, child.”
Maggie bowed her head, turning back to direct her words toward the Fenns. “I am truly sorry. I take all shame upon myself.”
Richard leaned in, drawing close to her ear. Despite speaking for her alone, the entire room could hear his word. “You are banished from this land. Do not show your face here, again.”
Maynard ruptured in grief, crying out in protest, reaching for his brother to beseech or hurt him, whichever would do most good, but hands had taken hold of Maggie’s arms, pulling her away from them as her cousins Graham and Robert led her away. She yanked her sleeves free of their grip and turned for the door. She glanced back to her father, frowning to see him in such grief, clutching Richard’s shirt as he begged him to reconsider. Maggie caught sight of another frowning face beyond them – the woman she once called her mother. Maggie glared at the woman a moment, making sure Karen Talbot met her stare. Maggie wanted to burn a hole through her right there and then. If she was going to be banished – if she was never going to see this woman again, she would let her eyes speak for her.
Then she turned for the hall door and stormed out into the rain.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Wait, what?”
Deacon sat on the end of the phone, holding his breath as Carissa took in the news.
“You’re kidding, right?” She asked.
“No,” he said, swallowing.
Carissa took a deep breath on the other line. “You know, of all the lines of bull shit I’ve heard over the years, this one is by far the most pathetic.”
“Oh, Car. I swear to you, that’s not what this is. I’m trying to figure out a way to call it off, but I just – I haven’t quite got a handle – I’m hoping once I get there and meet her, I can convince her -”
“Don’t bother, Deedee. Just don’t bother. I hope you’ll be very happy together.”
“Carissa! Don’t say that!”
Carissa muttered to herself on the other end of the line, fuming and swearing under her breath. Then the line went dead.
Deacon
sat there on his porch, listening to an autumn breeze blow through the trees as his chest grew tight. The conversation had gone just as poorly as he’d expected.
He took a breath, pulled up her contact information, and lifted the phone back up to his ear just as John’s truck pulled into the driveway.
Come on, Carissa. Pick up, he thought.
The call went straight to voicemail.
“Here comes the bride, brother.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Deacon said, barely audible.
John heard it, nonetheless. “Didn’t go over well with the Missus, I take it?”
Deacon swallowed hard. He wanted John to go away. He wanted everyone to go away – leave him alone for a god damn minute so he could try to straighten out his life.
He felt as though he’d been trying to do just that for eight months. He hadn’t had any luck yet.
“Well, come on, then. We don’t want you to be late.”
Deacon rose from his front steps, and he and John climbed into Deacon’s SUV, John quickly plugging his phone into the radio to blare Zeppelin through the speakers. Deacon wasn’t wholly in the mood to blare classic rock, but perhaps Zeppelin was better than having to speak. It wasn’t John. Deacon loved John, and if there was anyone in the world he could share his thoughts with, it was him. He just didn’t want to talk to anyone. Save for maybe Carissa, if she’d let him get a word out.
“Christ, I hope she’s nice,” Deacon said.
John patted him on the shoulder, laughing. “You resigning yourself to it, then?”
Deacon shook his head. “No. I’m still planning to try to talk her out of it.”
“Really? What if she’s the one, though?”
Deacon snorted. “Shut up.”
“Hey, I’m just sayin. You want a fated mate, it doesn’t get much more fated than someone arranging a marriage for you. I mean, Jesus.”
They drove toward Falkirk’s Harbor, In The Evening blasting from the speakers as they reached the far gate of the Fenn property. It was wide open. They both shot each other a startled look to see it so.
The Bears of Blackrock, Books 1 - 3: The Fenn Clan Page 30