The Alien Reindeer's Redemption

by Elin Wyn

  “Do you have a lighter? Or matches?” Megan asked.

  I didn’t know what those things were.

  I shook my head.

  She straightened up and put her hands on her hips.

  “There must be something here we can use.” She began rifling through drawers. In the part of the cabin I surmised to be some kind of meal prepping area, she muttered as she pulled things out.

  “Can opener, instant coffee, six old forks…”

  “Perfect!” she beamed. In her hand was a small object that didn’t look capable of starting a fire.

  It was a short stick with a red bulb on the end. She grabbed a tube of papers and brought it back to the fireplace. She crumpled the papers and stuffed them in between the sticks I’d collected.

  I watched with great interest as she took the unassuming stick and scraped the red bulb against the edge of the alcove.

  A small flame sputtered to life at the end of the stick, quickly eating away at the wood. Megan tucked it against one of the bits of crumpled paper, which quickly caught fire.

  “I hope that’s enough to get it going,” she sighed.

  I was nothing short of amazed.

  What a primitive way of conjuring fire! And she’d done it so easily.

  I kept my expression carefully neutral. I doubted any normal human would be surprised at the feat she’d just accomplished. Perhaps that was how humans regularly created fire. How inconvenient.

  The fire spread from the clumps of paper to the dead wood. The room was now illuminated in deep orange light. Megan looked different in the light of the fire, somehow. It made her appear softer, less distressed.

  “How long have you been searching for your daughter?” I asked.

  “Three days,” she said.

  “And she’s in Gold Peak?”

  “She’s somewhere just outside the town, but the investigator caught a picture of her in town. I figure her father must’ve taken her to the general store or something to get food and warm clothes.”

  Tears welled in her eyes again, but I didn’t understand why.

  Emotions weren’t exactly my strongest skill.

  Pride in my victories.

  Anger at my enemies.

  Savage fury in the fight.

  And now… this strange protectiveness towards Megan.

  Everything else was a confused mess. It had never been important before, but now I wanted to untangle them.

  Shouldn’t it make her happy that the father was taking precautions to care for the child? Perhaps happy wasn’t the right term.

  “Do you require anything else?” I asked, hoping for another clue.

  She looked at me for a moment before bursting out in laughter.

  “I’m sorry,” she giggled when she saw that I wasn’t laughing with her. “I appreciate the question, but you asked it in such an overly formal way, you sound like a butler.”

  So many, many things I shouldn’t have skimmed over in the file. Butler?

  “And then I had this mental image of myself as a great lady from the Victorian era or something, with you as my butler, waiting on me hand and foot in this dingy old cabin that hasn’t been cleaned in weeks,” she continued.

  I had no idea what she was talking about, but I laughed anyway. It seemed to please her.

  “Sorry,” she said. “My mind makes up weird things like that. Arabella and I play a game where we imagine the strangest things we can. It’s a lot of fun, much better than cable TV.”

  “Arabella,” I repeated. “That’s your daughter’s name?’

  “Yes,” she grinned, pride glowing in her eyes.

  “It’s a lovely name.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Ryant’s an interesting name. Is there a story behind it?”

  “I was named after my grandfather,” I told her, which was the truth.

  “How nice,” she replied. “I have my grandmother’s middle name. Eleanor. It’s old fashioned, but I like having a name with some history to it.”

  “I feel the same way,” I offered her a smile.

  “Do you spend a lot of time with your grandfather?” she asked.

  “He’s dead.”

  “Oh!” Megan’s eyes went wide. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I shrugged. “He lived a good life. He achieved great things for our family.”

  “Sounds like an impressive man,” she said.

  “He was. Was Arabella named for anyone?”

  “Not really,” she shrugged. “When I was pregnant with her, I was part of this expecting mother’s club on Facebook. One of the most common topics was baby names. Another mother made a post containing all the names she loved. Arabella was on it, and I knew it would be perfect.”

  “Interesting,” I nodded. Some of that had made sense. The important parts, at least.

  “Do you have any children?” she asked.

  “No,” I shook my head. “There hasn’t been a good time to consider it.”

  “They’re great,” Megan beamed. “But I’m not sure if I want more than one, right now. It’s so much fun with it just being Arabella and me. We’re our own little unit in the world.”

  I smiled. I couldn’t help it.

  Watching Megan’s face when she spoke of her daughter made me feel good. I didn’t understand it but I didn’t need to.

  I just needed more. More of Megan.

  “Tell me everything,” I urged.

  Megan

  Ryant’s interest in mine and Arabella’s life caught me off guard.

  When I first laid eyes on him, I wouldn’t have guessed him to be the family-man type. I supposed it was an unfair assumption on my part.

  Normally, men who were that drop-dead good-looking didn't want to settle down in the prime of their lives.

  I wasn’t sure how old Ryant was, but he was definitely in his prime.

  Hell, he’d be in his prime well into his seventies.

  Probably longer.

  “What do you want to know?” I asked.

  He paused for a thoughtful moment.

  “Motherhood,” he said with such a serious expression that I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “It seems like its own sort of battle.”

  Seriously? What hot young guy wanted to know about the trials of motherhood?

  I expected him to laugh, smirk, or give me some kind of indication that he was just joking, but he held my gaze evenly.

  His dark blue eyes looked like burning embers in the light of the fire. I still swore that they’d looked lighter to me for a second when we were outside. It must’ve been a trick of the light, a reflection off the snow or something.

  “Motherhood?” I repeated. “Do you not have sisters or female cousins?”

  “No,” he shook his head.

  “You’ve really never been around babies?” I tipped my head to one side.

  He hesitated.

  “Not as a caregiver,” he replied. “The women of my family raise the babies in a community together.”

  “The fathers don’t live with their children?” I asked.

  “No, they do.” He paused, as if trying to pick the right words. “But where I come from has a high demand for physical labor, so men are often away from the home. The women feel that it’s easier and more beneficial to the children to raise them in a group.”

  That sounded totally medieval.

  Though I had to admit, when Arabella was a baby, I would’ve loved a group of other mothers to hang out with.

  I’d always had to work. I didn’t get to join those adorable Mommy and Me groups.

  “Where did you say you were from again?” For just a moment, alarm flashed in his eyes.

  “You wouldn’t know it,” he shrugged. “It’s pretty remote.”

  “Like Amish remote?” I asked.

  He hesitated.

  “Yes.”

  Oh, that explained a lot.

  I wanted to ask questions about his upbringing, but that seemed rude. Besides, he’
d already asked me a question that I’d failed to answer.

  “What do you want to know about motherhood?” I asked.

  “You and Arabella didn’t live with her father, correct?”

  I nodded.

  “So, where did you live?”

  Not the question I was expecting, but I was happy to indulge.

  I didn’t get to tell that story often. Actually, I didn’t get to socialize with other adults outside of kindergarten social functions.

  “We lived in a shed,” I chuckled. “Well, maybe a little closer to a cabin, but not too close.”

  Despite the simplicity of Arabella and my first home, I had loved it.

  “There wasn’t any electricity or running water in the shed,” I went on. “It was on someone’s farmland. I think it was left over from when the land was used for cattle ranching. It was probably a place where ranchers could stop to rest, wash, and sleep.”

  Ryant nodded but didn’t say anything, so I kept going.

  “I made it nice,” I said. “There was a well not too far from the shed. Getting water from it was a pain in the ass. Arabella used to love riding in a baby sling on my back and watching me bring the water up.” I smiled at the memory. “Hot water for baths wasn’t easy. We had a wood-burning stove and an oven that probably hadn’t been used since the days of the pioneers. I always had cold baths. Arabella was small enough to bathe in the sink and I was able to heat that much water with little difficulty. I’m sure you know all about that.”

  I looked at him expectantly, but he stared back, looking confused.

  Maybe I didn’t know as much about the Amish as I thought I did. Damn those Lifetime movie dramatizations.

  “Never mind,” I cleared my throat awkwardly. The last thing I wanted to do was to offend him. “Anyway, we lived in the shed. I worked for the family who owned the land as a bookkeeper. They made most of their profits from farmers’ markets, so, as you can imagine, my income was limited. I didn’t have to pay rent, though.”

  “No electricity,” he said. “What did you do in the winter?”

  “This.” I gestured to the open fire cracking in front of us. “We only lived in the shed until Arabella was two. I was able to save up enough for a security deposit closer to town where I could get more work, but it must have made an impression on her. She still talks about it, even now.”

  “What does she say?” A smile flickered in the corner of Ryant’s mouth.

  “She always asks me when we’re going to go back to live in the Enchanted Cottage,” I chuckled. “She thought it was a magic cottage in a fairy wood. All of her imaginary friends were elves and woodland creatures. Though I think there was a real-life squirrel that took a liking to her.”

  Ryant laughed.

  For a moment, I thought he was just laughing to be polite, then I realized the delight in his eyes was genuine.

  Warm.

  “She brought it into the shed once,” I continued. “I was livid and shooed it back outside. She didn’t talk to me for a week after that.”

  “How did you win her back over?” Ryant asked.

  “I started leaving little scraps for the squirrel. He was allowed to eat on the windowsill.”

  Ryant chuckled again.

  “What were you doing at the time?” he asked.

  I faltered. I didn’t like talking about myself. During that time in the shed, I was still heartbroken and confused over Ted.

  What had I done wrong?

  Once I got over that, I was simply sad. Another poor decision on my part.

  And I felt terrible that Arabella couldn’t have a normal family life.

  “Just working,” I shrugged.

  “And before working? Before Arabella?”

  Sometimes, I forgot I was a person before Arabella came along. She enriched every aspect of my life to the point that I couldn’t remember the girl I was before I enrolled in Dr. Bonven’s class.

  “I’ve always loved astronomy,” I said.

  “The study of space?” he asked, surprised.

  “Yes,” I nodded. “Ever since I was Arabella’s age, I was obsessed with the stars. When normal kids were using coloring books, I was making star charts. I used to cry when I couldn’t make them perfectly accurate. It took three years of begging before my parents bought me a telescope. It was a shitty one, but it was my favorite thing in the world.”

  “I used to go up on my roof at night,” I continued. “It was tricky. My parents were strict about bedtime. On more than one occasion, I stayed up on the roof until daybreak.”

  I prattled on about the time I first saw a shooting star, the first time I was able to pick out constellations, and other milestones of my young astronomy obsession.

  Realizing I’d started to ramble, I stole a glance at Ryant. He watched me with such intensity I felt my heart skip. No one had ever listened to me go on about the stars and space like that before.

  Not even Ted.

  “What?” I asked when he didn’t look away.

  “You’re passionate,” he said. “I don’t see that in many.”

  “Everyone has something they’re passionate about,” I shrugged, ducking my face to hide the flush on my cheeks. “What’s your passion?”

  “I’m not sure I have one,” he said.

  “That’s impossible,” I giggled. “You’re just not thinking hard enough.”

  “I thought I was passionate about my job,” he offered. “But I’ve never talked about my job the way you talk about the night sky. I could watch you for hours.”

  “You still have to tell me about yourself.” I sounded breathless.

  Was he leaning toward me or was I leaning toward him?

  I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that those hypnotizing eyes and that sexy smile were a lot closer to me than they were a moment ago.

  “I’d rather listen to you.” His voice was no more than a whisper. He was less than six inches from me.

  Four inches.

  Three.

  Two.

  Our lips touched softly at first. I hesitated. I wanted to kiss him.

  Holy hell, did I want to kiss him.

  Nearly six years was a long time to go without being kissed.

  He felt like he was going to pull away.

  I didn’t want that yet. I followed him with my lips until he kissed me back. This time, I sank into his kiss, relishing the sensation of his lips.

  God, it felt so good to kiss someone.

  It felt even better to be kissed back.

  His large hands pressed against my lower back, urging me to come closer to him. I wasn’t paying attention to anything but him at that point. When I moved forward, I lost my balance. He caught me against his chest, laughing softly.

  “We can’t sit two feet away from an open flame,” he teased. “Not if I’m going to be this distracted.”

  He got to his feet and extended a hand to me. I took it and allowed him to help me up. There was a single bed-like surface in the main room of the cabin. I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a daybed or an unusually wide couch, and at the moment, I couldn’t care less.

  Ryant led me to the bed-couch-thing, then laid on his back and pulled me on top of him. I kissed him hard, placing one leg on either side of his hips.

  I kissed him until my lips were sore and swollen. He placed his hands on my hips and pulled me tight against him. I felt his hard length through his jeans.

  Desire stoked in my belly.

  I wanted this man. I wanted him right here, right now.

  I opened my eyes to look at him, and for a split second, I saw Ted’s face.

  I went still.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, planting a trail of kisses down my neck.

  What the hell was I doing?

  “I-” I couldn’t make the words come.

  This was a bad idea. I knew that because it felt like such a damn good idea and I always made the wrong choice.

  This wasn’t going to help me in the long run. Th
is sure as hell wasn’t going to help Arabella.

  “I need some air,” I rasped and scrambled off the bed-couch.

  “Are you ill?” Ryant looked at me. His dark hair was tousled. His eyes were bright and glassy. His perfect mouth looked freshly kissed. I felt his pull.

  I wanted to crawl back on top of him and continue what we we’d been doing, but I couldn’t.

  There was no way it could end well. None of my choices ever did.

  “I might be.”

  “What can I do?” He sat up, looking so concerned I felt like I was going to be sick for real.

  My daughter was out there, somewhere, with her father who was a stranger to her.

  Whatever fear she felt now was the direct result of my inability to choose the right guy. Instead of helping her, what am I doing? Stradling a stranger I met at a gas station diner.

  God, I was the worst mother in the world.

  “Nothing,” I stammered. “I just need to be left alone. Okay?”

  He looked confused. “If that’s what you require.”

  “It is,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to apologize.”

  I couldn’t look at Ryant. I felt so ashamed, and he was being so nice about everything.

  More than anything, I wanted to go for a walk.

  I wasn’t stupid enough to go outside in the woods in the middle of the night. It was probably below zero now.

  Instead, I tugged his coat around my shoulders and walked into the cold, dark bedroom, no longer caring about the lack of a fireplace. I sat on the bed and wrapped the worn comforter around my shoulders.

  It smelled musty, but it was better than nothing.

  Looking out the window, I thought of Arabella and tried not to cry.

  Ryant

  Humans.

  Could there be a more undecipherable species?

  Sitting by the fireplace, the tall orange flames casting my shadow against the wall, I let my gaze wander toward the bedroom.

  Through the open door, I could see her huddled under a blanket.

  She was cold, but didn’t want to come out to the fire.

  After what happened, it was as if there was a force field around that room, one I couldn’t make my way through.

  Had it been something I did? Something I said?