Straightening up, he grabbed his room key and tucked it into his pocket. He strode out of the room and down the hallway. The receptionist was there at her desk, fiddling around with something on the computer. She shot him a look that seemed almost-guilty, making him suspect that she was on Facebook or Twitter instead of doing work.
She deserves a break after that conversation we had. Poor kid. Can’t have been fun for her.
Simon pushed his way through the front doors of the hotel, letting the gentle summer heat wash over him. He turned his face to the sun, the rays warming his face, before turning away to head to his car. Sliding behind the wheel, he left the parking lot and headed in the approximate direction of the orchard.
He had only an address to go by and might not ever have found it unless he’d asked about it yesterday, while getting directions to the hotel. The Lakeman Orchard was in a pretty odd place for an orchard, nestled deep within a residential neighborhood. The family lived in a house on the edge of the area, and just behind that was the sprawling orchard.
It was a vertigo-inducing sight, to witness a forest suddenly appear in the midst of a bunch of cute little single-story, white picket fence houses. The fact that the trees were all in neat, orderly rows did little to dispel the illusion.
Simon shook his head, then looked again. It was almost as if the houses didn’t belong, as if the orchard had been there first.
“I’m letting my imagination get away from me,” he grumbled.
Simon navigated the last of the streets separating him from the Lakeman home, which was at the bottom of a very long, shallow hill. The house was a ranch-style home, picture-perfect, with a winding driveway, a huge garden brimming with ripe vegetables, and a wrap-around porch.
A man was sitting on that porch, a frosted glass of something in one hand. He rocked slowly back and forth in his rocking chair. His face was oddly obscured.
He’s smoking.
Though Simon was still quite a distance away, he just knew that this man was watching him. It was, of course, only natural to watch someone as they drove up to your house to intrude upon your business. This felt different from that. It was like he was being watched.
A woman stood up from where she had been crouching behind the wall of vegetables in the garden. Simon let out a yelp of surprise, his butt completely lifting from the seat as he jumped. He jerked on the wheel, though he was thankfully driving at a snail’s pace and this made no real difference.
The woman had a basket filled with vegetables dangling from one arm. Misshapen green bell peppers, small, shiny eggplants, potatoes, thin little carrots; these were the sorts of produce a farmer would never be able to sell to a store because they didn’t look perfect. From the look in the woman’s eyes, from the beaming smile on her face, at least she thought they were perfect. The fruits of her labor.
Simon felt a tugging on his lips and realized that he, too, was smiling.
The woman made a cranking gesture with her free hand.
He rolled down the window and leaned across the center console. “Howdy!” he called.
Oh, god. Why did I say that? She’s not some country bumpkin. This isn’t the Old West.
It just came out of him, like he thought it was the proper sort of greeting to give. Like he had no idea how to talk to someone who didn’t live in a big city, even though there was really no difference between them.
The woman just smiled at him. “Go ahead and park beside the truck,” she called. “Not behind.”
Simon saluted her, then spent the next several seconds mentally beating himself up. Get him a few hundred miles from home and he turned into the most awkward person on earth. It was a miserable thing to suddenly be aware of, that you weren’t nearly as adaptable as you had thought.
He parked beside the big truck. His minivan was no small fry but this truck dwarfed it, like a Great Dane beside a chihuahua. He parked and just sat there for a moment, then pulled in a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. It didn’t really work, it just made him more conscious of the fact that the more time he spent inside here, the more likely it was that he was just going to drive away and turn his back on this whole affair. There was no goddamn well. These people would look at him and laugh in his face, as they had probably laughed in the faces of all those other wolves who came here before him. This trip would have all been for naught.
Simon took another deep breath, which calmed him no more than the first had, and he shoved his door open before he had a chance to start thinking bad thoughts like that again.
His back was stiff and straight, his shoulders squared as he walked around the back of his van. He would rather talk to the smiling vegetable woman instead of the stoic man on the front porch.
The woman had gone back to tending to her garden, showing no inclination to stop what she was doing to tend to her odd guest.
Which left the stoic man on the porch.
Simon turned to look at the man, who hadn’t moved a muscle. His nerves were jangling again, and he was on the verge of going back to his van for real when the man on the porch spoke.
“Why don’t you come on up here, son.” It wasn’t a request, but rather a command. An alpha’s command, said plain and simple as if he expected to be obeyed without hesitation. And why not? He was an alpha, after all. “And we’ll talk. You look like you could use a drink.”
Simon gingerly approached the steps that led up to the porch. He expected them to be rickety, to bow under his weight the way wood did when it had been out in the elements for a few seasons. That wasn’t the case this time, however. The steps were as firm and solid as could be.
“I’m not much for alcohol.”
He always felt awkward saying just “alcohol.” It felt like such a childish thing to do, like he’d gone up to a drug dealer and asked for exactly one marijuana, please. However, he didn’t know any other way to express himself. His knowledge of beer and wine and other spirits was very slim.
“But how do you feel about lemonade?” the alpha wolf asked. He gestured to the little table beside his rocking chair, which had previously been hidden from sight by the thick railing which wrapped around the porch. The table held a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses, one full and the other empty.
“Oh,” Simon said, a little relieved. “I could get behind some lemonade.”
“Then take a seat and we’ll talk. Unless you got somewhere to be?” The alpha wolf gazed at him with serious, open eyes. “In which case, we’ll cut this to the quick and get you what you came here for. Like most of those other boys who come through here.”
“Boys?”
“Everyone’s a boy when you’re my age, Simon. Take a seat.”
Simon stayed right where he was. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to move—he very much wanted to run away—so much as that he literally couldn’t move. His legs were stiff and heavy with trepidation, like pillars of cement. He might as well have been part of the house in that moment, just another feature which would be there probably until the end of time. “How did you know my name?”
“We hear things. Take a seat. Or not. It’s your choice, son.”
Tentatively, Simon approached the other rocking chair and sank down into it. The wood groaned slightly as his weight pressed down upon it, but he was surprised at how comfortable it was even without cushions or anything. He relaxed against the curved back.
“That’s better. Here, hold your glass and I’ll pour. I’d do both but I’m afraid one of my hands isn’t so steady anymore.”
Simon obediently reached over and held onto the glass so it wouldn’t tip over as the older wolf poured lemonade inside. He could tell the lemonade had been fresh-squeezed from actual lemons, strands of pulp flowing through the liquid. How many people took the time for that these days?
“Was trying to secure a tree about, oh, a year back. Storm was coming. Didn’t want to lose one of our plums. Golden plum. The hybrids are more delicate, you know.”
Simon hadn’t noticed anyth
ing delicate at all about the orchard out at the back of the house, but he found himself nodding anyway. “Makes sense.”
“There was a lightning strike. Can you believe it? I told Mary it’s because of one of the fillings I’ve got in my molars, but she told me silver doesn’t conduct electricity. Anyway. Tree split in half. Landed on my hand. Doesn’t hurt me anymore, but there’s not much even we can do when it comes to nerve damage.”
“I’m sorry,” Simon said, very sincerely. There had never been an injury he sustained that hadn’t healed rapidly. Shifting did that, gave a person the combined healing powers of man and animal. The lemonade tasted bitter when he took a sip.
“Doesn’t bother me any. I only wish I could’ve saved the tree. But you’re not here to learn about the orchard, are you?”
“You’re right. I…” It was ridiculous, but he had to say it. “I came for the wishing well.”
“You think you’re going to find that it’s not real? Simon, dozens of wolves like you have come here with that exact mindset. We get all kinds. The downtrodden and the skeptics walk up to us practically hand-in-hand, all searching to answer the same question. Does the well exist? And they all walk away with the same answer.”
“Which is?”
“It exists,” the older wolf said. His gaze unfocused slightly. He looked off towards the woman in the distance, inspecting what seemed to be a tomato plant. Despite his gray hair, the alpha was clearly still a powerful wolf, his shoulders broad and his arms thick. All animals—and humans—grew more frail as they aged, seeming to collapse in on themselves, but that hadn’t yet happened to this wolf. “I believe it’s always existed. Protecting itself with a pine forest, out back behind our orchard. No one knows who owns the pine forest, so it just sits there. I think most people forget it exists. I think that’s what the forest wants.”
“A forest can’t think.”
“And people can’t turn into animals. And a wishing well can’t show you your mate. Impossible things are possible in this world, Simon. You shouldn’t forget that.”
“I came here to get my mother off my back,” Simon said. “She wanted me to come here before I started my new job.”
“And you don’t want to.”
“But I will. I will look into the well. If it exists.”
“Whether you want to look or not, the well will show you your mate. There are consequences that come with that.”
“I think I can handle it.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I think only time will tell.” The other wolf sighed and took a swig from his glass. “Simon, you are a teacher, aren’t you?”
“A PE teacher. Also a coach.”
“Close enough. You strike me as an intellectual. In that case, will you humor an old man? Sometimes the burden of owning this place can get a man down when he has to keep it all to himself. It would be nice to tell the tale to someone new.”
Simon’s heart gave a sad little twinge for the older wolf. “Sure, I’ll listen. Let’s start with your name.”
“Yes, that’s a fine place to start.” The wolf turned, offered his hand. “My name is Jeremiah Lakeman. You may call me Jerry.”
Simon shook his hand. “Simon Diamond, but I guess you already know that. It’s nice to meet you, Jerry.”
“The beautiful woman out there feeling up the vegetables is my mate, Mary. We have a son, Quincy. He lives out in town with his mate, Jake Lakeman-Hope, and their sons.”
“Did Quincy look into the well?”
“Yes. And I believe he’s better for it.” Jerry sighed a little. “I’m proud of how far he’s come. But this isn’t quite about him. The well has been around for far, far longer. It’s an ancient thing, Simon. I believe it belongs to a different time. I believe this entire area belongs to a different time.”
“What are you saying?” Simon didn’t like the sound of this. It was like he was hearing the beliefs of some cult.
“I’m saying, didn’t you notice anything odd about Abingdon? How difficult it is to find us, to get information about us? And the town itself. We don’t have a low-income part of town. We don’t have a drug dealer. We have a few bars but no one just sits around getting drunk for days. Everyone knows everyone. No one is afraid. We are here. Untouchable. Like the outside doesn’t matter. I believe that is the power of the well. Mary thinks I’m insane when I say things like that.”
“Not to offend you, Jerry, but you do sound kind of...” He didn’t finish that thought, catching himself before he could be rude. “There are a lot of peaceful little towns where bad things don’t happen.”
Jerry chuckled softly. “True, true. But next time you go back in town, really pay attention. You’ll notice. Especially after seeing the well.”
“I’ll pay attention. I promise.”
“Good. Do you know how technology doesn’t seem to work around us?”
“Yes.”
“I believe that whatever causes that, the well amplifies it. It searches. I think we are all connected. We are all wolves, all one united pack on the surface of this little planet. Our spirits are all connected, if only so slightly that we don’t feel it at all.”
“You think that’s how it shows you a mate? But how does it even do that?”
Jerry finished his lemonade and then set his hands on the arms of his rocking chair. One hand couldn’t seem to grip as tightly as the other. “Why don’t you see for yourself? Thank you for listening to the ramblings of an old man, but I think it’s time that we get this show on the road.”
After taking another sip from his own drink, Simon stood up to follow the older wolf. “Let’s go,” he said.
His voice didn’t sound confident, not even to his own ears. However, Jerry seemed to think nothing of it. He had undoubtedly gone through this same process on many other occasions.
The older alpha walked towards the orchard, and Simon followed.
4
Nathan knew a lot of men who were terrible at shopping, preferring to drag their feet and complain all the time as they followed along behind a partner. That had never been the case for him. Even as a teenager, he enjoyed browsing through the shelves of whatever store he might end up at.
Now, as a single adult who had to do all his shopping on his own, he treated it as a break. Unless he encountered someone he knew, no one was rushing towards him with a question, a comment, a concern. He was just one face among many, as meaningless to the cashier as the man in front of him and the woman behind. He meant nothing, was no one.
Today, he was on the search for office supplies. Elaine always teased him that he should just go on Amazon for all his needs, like so many others did, but online shopping was simply too impersonal. Besides, if he was on a computer then there were a multitude of other things he could be doing instead. He could be answering emails, calculating numbers, that sort of thing. Why waste time pretending he was relaxed, when he could go for a walk and actually be relaxed?
He needed a new stapler, since his old one had finally given up the ghost. He’d had that stapler for over a decade, and who knew how long it had been around before that, because he bought it from a resale shop for $1. The damn things were durable if you didn’t throw them against the wall, though he’d been suspecting for a long while now that his was on the way out.
Nathan browsed the wall of staplers, wondering exactly who cared about all these different brands. He didn’t care if the staples were economy size or if the grip was designed to fit comfortably in his hand. He just wanted a goddamn stapler.
Voices approached. An older woman, from the sound of her. A wolf, from the smell of her. “I just need a refill for my stapler, and then we’ll get going.”
“Mother,” someone replied, sighing. “You’ve been saying that you need to get a refill for the past three stores, and you haven’t gotten one yet.”
“That’s because I only trust the quality from this store.”
“They all get sent the same product. It all comes from the same factories, probably
the same batch.”
“But they do quality control here.”
There was no response to that, which was a shame because Nathan’s interest was piqued. He would have recognized that voice anywhere. It was the PE teacher, the omega wolf with the muscles and confidence of someone above him. He was out shopping with his mother, if he was interpreting this conversation correctly.
Nathan kept his ears pricked as the sound of footsteps approached. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw the female wolf, though she might not have seen him because one of her eyes was filmy-white with cataracts. He felt bad for her, knowing as he did that there were some things a shifter’s body simply couldn’t heal. Brain damage, nerve damage, harm inflicted upon the eyes; these were all just too complex for the body to regenerate on its own. She must have been in an accident at some point or had some sort of disease, though he didn’t know enough to say for certain.
Trailing along behind her, carrying a basket filled with all sorts of paper goods, was Simon. His hair looked as wind-swept as ever, his shoulders back as if the weight of what he was carrying didn’t bother him.
Simon froze. His green eyes slashed across from his mother, directly to Nathan.
Knowing that he had been caught looking, Nathan gazed right back at him.
Simon took a step back, then another. His eyes widened, then narrowed. The corner of his mouth twitched, and then his head shook ever-so-slightly. Whether this was a nervous tic or some sort of attempt at a secret signal, Nathan had no idea. He was baffled by this behavior. It was obvious that Simon had been taken by surprise, not expecting his future employer to be here. Judging from the playful banter that Simon had going with his mother when they first came near, he might have been too preoccupied to make a deliberate effort to scent out other wolves.
Being taken aback was one thing. Simon was acting almost stunned, which was another thing entirely. There was no reason for that to be, unless he had changed his mind about the job. Their appointment wasn’t until tomorrow so there was still time to do that; maybe Simon just felt incredibly awkward right now because of that.
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