Wolf sat straight up in his chair. He stared at his mother across the room, his eyes stretched wide because this was the first time in his life that he had ever heard her reference the abuse.
“What does he do to Wolf?” Mr. Shields asked.
“It’s nothing, really, and Wolf is strong and doing well in school. He’ll be fine,” she said, blinking rapidly and darting her eyes. “I really try my best to be a good mother, and both the boys have everything they need and that’s what matters most. If I can just find a way to get George to stop drinking so much, we’ll be alright.”
Wolf felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Wolf noticed Orville slumped in the chair, gazing at the carpet, and he saw Polly standing behind his mum, her head hung low.
“Ah, Lizzie, I am sad to hear this,” Mrs. Shields said.
“I barely knew George before we got married. We’d only been on five dates before he proposed. Anyway, not long afterward, I figured out that he wanted to control everything and that he’s a different man when he drinks. In fact, he wouldn’t even let me drive a car anymore after we got married and insists on driving me everywhere.”
“I always wondered why you don’t drive,” Mrs. Shields replied.
“And, when Orville’s health improved,” she said, smiling slightly in Orville’s direction, “we were so happy, so we decided to have another child. When I finally got pregnant, George really wanted a girl and was insistent we were going to have one. I kept reminding him the baby’s gender was out of our control, but he was convinced it would be a girl. So, when Wolf was born, he became even more angry, and things just got worse from there,” she finished, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Wow,” Mr. Shields said, shaking his head. “Well, Lizzie, you did the right thing coming here tonight. You were smart to get yourself and the boys out of the house. You can all stay here, and I’ll have a conversation with him tomorrow and see if I can help.”
“Thanks,” Wolf’s mum sighed.
Mrs. Shields popped up from the couch. “I’ll get pillows and blankets,” she said. “Wolf, you can sleep on the floor of the study, and Orville, you’ll be here on the couch. It’s a good thing tomorrow is Saturday and you boys don’t have school. Lizzie, you’ll be in the guest room.”
“Thank you,” his mum replied.
Mr. Shields stood up, straightening his red robe. “Don’t be silly, Lizzie. Your family is always welcome here.”
Mrs. Shields went upstairs, returning a few minutes later with bedding in hand. She asked Wolf to come into the study, and inside she handed him a perfectly folded blanket and a pillow that smelled like lavender. She wished him sweet dreams and left the room, leaving the door to the study partially open. When Mrs. Shields had gone, Wolf saw Polly sitting at the big, oak desk, her green eyes the same colour as the green-glass banker’s lamp placed on the surface.
“Hi Polly,” he said.
“Konichiwa,” she said, a hint of a smile on her lips.
Wolf stretched out the blanket on the oriental rug and lay down, placing the lavender- scented pillow behind his head. Polly came and lay close to him, and Wolf reached over her and grabbed the edge of the blanket, folding it over them for warmth.
“Did you hear what my mum said?” Wolf asked Polly.
“I did. She just doesn’t want to face the truth.”
“Yeah,” Wolf whispered. “At least I know now that she knows he hurts me.”
Polly’s girlish hands were folded on her belly. “I guess. Are you scared?”
“I was when we first left the house, but I’m not now. I feel safe here. Mr. Shields is huge compared to Dad. He’s taller, and fatter,” he stated matter-of-factly.
Mrs. Shields had left the door slightly ajar, so one of the greyhounds pushed it open with its snout and sashayed over to where Wolf and Polly lay. He stood right between the children before elongating his neck and falling onto his side, right on top of Polly. His stretched-out body was almost the length of hers, and his back paws relaxed near her burlap shoes. Unaffected by the weight of the dog, Polly began to gently stroke the soft underside of his cheek.
“You’ll be right,” the dog growled softly.
“It’s nice here,” Wolf told the greyhound. “What’s your name?”
“Garrison,” he answered in a deep voice. “And if you’re smart, you’ll only talk to me and not to the others. They are all stupid compared to me.”
“The others?” asked Polly.
“Yes, the other dogs. Few sandwiches short of a picnic, every one of them. I am the only one worth asking if there’s something you want to know.”
“Actually, I have talked to Murphy before, the Irish wolfhound, and he seems sag…um, saga…um, smart,” Wolf said. “Anyway, can you warn us if my dad comes here, like bark extra loud or something?”
“Sure. But I’m going to sleep now,” the dog grunted, his legs twitching as he inhaled deeply, and then the greyhound fell asleep, his breathing loud and hoarse.
“By the way, Wolf, the word is sagacious, and that’s a good word,” Polly said, closing her eyes.
A few hours later, when the house was quiet, the front doorbell rang. Garrison growled, jumped up, and ran out of the room, joining the choir of greyhounds barking in the foyer. Someone raced down the stairs while the person on the front porch continued to press the doorbell.
“Alright, alright, for god sake,” uttered Mr. Shields. He turned on the porch light and peered through the front window. “George, I see you. Stop ringing that bloody bell and hold on. Let me get the door.”
When Mr. Shields cracked the front door, Wolf’s dad tried to force himself inside, but Mr. Shields straightened his arm in the doorframe and held him back. “Wait a minute, George. You’re not coming in like this. We can speak on the porch. Back away.”
Dad obeyed, and Mr. Shields stepped outside onto the porch, gently closing the door behind him. His mother and Mrs. Shields huddled at the top of the staircase with their hands balled together, and Orville lay on the couch with his eyes closed, his breathing the only indication that he was alive.
Wolf could hear the men on the porch speaking in murmured voices. Wolf got up, went to the window and pulled back the edge of the curtain, seeing his dad’s stout body on the veranda, his figure shrouded in a haze of cloudy dark red.
“Harry, so I had a few drinks, what’s the big deal?” Wolf heard his father say. “She’s my wife, and they’re my kids, so they are coming home with me.”
“George, not like this they’re not.”
“Harry, come on. This is bullshit. They’re my family, and they’re coming with me,” he bossed.
“No, George, I mean it. Go home. You and Lizzie can talk about this tomorrow. She and the kids have had a rough night, and by the looks of it, so have you.”
“I just want to talk to her,” his father insisted, trying to push past Mr. Shields.
Mr. Shields stepped in front of him, preventing his entrance into the house. Wolf’s father darted to one side, trying again to get inside, but Mr. Shields just shifted his weight, blocking him from passing through the doorway.
Wolf’s heart raced as he waited for his dad to punch Mr. Shields, but instead, a smile spread across his father’s reddened face. “Alright, Harry, they can stay here tonight. I didn’t mean to scare them,” he said, holding out his hand to shake.
“It’s best, George,” Mr. Shields replied, shaking his father’s hand. “Now, go get some sleep. And, oh, one more thing; leave the gun with me.”
“Gun?”
“Yes, I know you have a gun. Go and get it and leave it with me.”
His dad lowered his eyes, turned, and went down the wooden stairs to his car. Wolf heard the boot open and close, and he watched as his father returned to the house, cradling the shotgun in both hands like a sacred offering before handing it to his friend.
Mr. Shields stood the gun upright beside his leg, aiming the barrel at the ground. “Good on ya, George,” he said. “Now go
home and get some rest.”
Wolf’s pulse raced as he watched his father drive away, his red tail lights dimming until they disappeared in the night.
“It’s okay. You don’t need to be scared. He’s gone,” Polly said.
“I’m not scared, Polly. I know that’s weird, but did you see what happened? Mr. Shields stood up to Dad, and Dad didn’t punch him. He gave up. He ran away.”
“Sure, he did. Know why? Your dad is a coward. A gutless wonder.”
Wolf didn’t answer, returning to the blanket on the floor. After Polly lay next to him, he covered them both with the blanket, and they stared at the ceiling. Minutes later, all the dogs wandered into the study, laying down all around Wolf and Polly, the heat of their bodies warming the blanket. Polly curled up like a cat, pressing her back against Murphy the Irish wolfhound. Wolf lay still with his fingers clasped on top of his stomach, thinking about how glad he was that his mother had taken them away from the house, but also wondering why she didn’t protect him every other night when he was beaten or forced into the box. Now that he knew she was aware of what was happening to him, he could hardly believe that she hadn’t done more to protect him. He remembered it was his mother who got him into training with Master Kelly, and he felt encouraged knowing that one day he’d grow bigger and be able to stand up to his father just like Mr. Shields had done tonight, and knowing that his life as a samurai warrior was being awakened within him every time he visited Junsaku.
With that feeling of hope, Wolf fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The next morning around eight a.m., Mrs. Shields made eggs, bacon, and toast for Wolf and Orville, and a cup of black tea for their mum. At nine a.m., Wolf's father rang the doorbell. “Morning,” he said, entering the kitchen with Mr. Shields at his side.
“Good morning,” Wolf’s mum mumbled, a blank expression on her face.
“Did you all sleep okay?”
Wolf was silent, holding a piece of toast in his hand, noticing Mrs. Shields furrowed brows as she looked at his dad.
“I slept good,” Orville announced.
“Righto. Well, everyone, about last night…I went to the pub after work and had one too many. You know how it is, Shieldy,” his dad said, elbowing Mr. Shields in the arm.
“Yeah, mate, it happens,” Mr. Shields replied.
“Anyway, it won’t happen again,” his father said. “Lizzie, I didn’t mean to scare you, but maybe you took it a bit far, darl?”
His mother placed her palms on the table and pushed herself up and out of the chair. “Sandy, thank you for the brekkie and for letting us stay. Harry, thanks,” she said, setting her teacup in the sink. “Boys, time to go with your father.”
Wolf’s dad smiled and said, “Looks like it’s going to be a nice day. And Orville, don’t you have a cricket match today? Wolf, it’ll be a nice day to ride your bike. Lots of sunshine. Lizzie, beautiful day to be in your garden, and I’ll even help you trim the roses.”
Mrs. Shields reached out and pulled Wolf’s mum to her, hugging her tightly.
“Anyway,” continued Wolf’s dad, “thanks again for letting them sleep here. Won’t happen again,” he said, shaking hands with Mr. Shields.
“Righto, George,” Mr. Shields replied.
Mrs. Shields released his mother and with her hands still on her shoulders said, “Call me anytime, Lizzie.”
As his mum left the house, their father caught up with her and put his arm over her shoulder, walking with her towards the car. When they arrived, he opened the passenger door for her as Orville and Wolf slipped into the back, and then he went to the driver's side, started the engine, and drove away from the Shields.
“Now,” his dad said as they were driving, “this is more like it. We’re a family. We need to stay together.”
Those were the last words spoken in the car for the entire ride home.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Today the ghost was sitting cross-legged in the vegetable garden, not far from where Buford, the blue tongue skink, was hiding underneath a head of green lettuce, his lavender-blue tongue flicking rhythmically.
The translucent Japanese man sat in the veggie garden making loops in the air with his right hand, his fingers bent as though he held an invisible paintbrush, and as he moved, designs magically appeared in the sky, fading away only seconds later.
“G’day, Koji,” Wolf said, sitting down on the dirt next to the ghost.
The ghost didn’t respond, continuing to draw lines, dots, and swooshes in the air. Polly arrived and peered over Wolf’s shoulder, watching the artist closely, nodding her head. “He’s writing kanji,” she said in Wolf’s ear. “Japanese words. Let me see if I can read them.”
She tightened her eyes and tried to read the words before they disappeared forever.
After several minutes, Koji stopped and folded his hands in his lap.
“So, what did he write?” Wolf asked Polly.
“He wrote…hang on, let me think how you say it in English. Okay, he wrote fall down seven times, stand up eight. Do you get it?”
“I think so,” Wolf replied. “He’s saying that when you fall down, you need to get back up. And, if you fall down seven times, you need to get up eight times. Hey, wait a minute. If you fall seven times, how do you get up eight?”
“Don’t ask me,” replied Polly, shrugging her shoulders. “In the past, I would have asked my father for help with that one.”
The first time Wolf saw the ghost, he was seven years old and wasn’t scared of the apparition because he had seen ghosts his whole life. On that day, Wolf saw the image of a Japanese man sitting cross-legged on the dirt in his mum’s garden with his back hunched over as he stared into his lap. The ghost seemed made of dense fog, and Wolf could see he was thin with narrow eyes, a defined nose, high cheekbones, and shoulder- length, greying black hair. He could also see the ghost wearing a long sleeve tunic and pants the colour of dry mud.
Wolf went to him in the garden with Polly trailing behind. “G’day. I’m Wolf, and this is Polly. Who are you?” he asked.
“Name Koji,” he answered slowly, enunciating every syllable.
Wolf pointed at the thick, leather-bound book resting in the ghost’s lap. "What’s that?" he asked.
“My book,” Koji replied, tapping his finger on the open parchment. "Koan. You know koan?”
“Yes, it’s kind of like a riddle, I guess. Master Kelly gives them to me and asks me to think about the answer. Most of the time when I do give him my answer, he says, “Dig deeper. Avoid logic,” or, “Look to the mountain beyond.’”
“Ah, master is wise. Tells you to open mind. Move beyond. I give you koan now. Ready?
“Hai.”
“The river doesn’t flow without water.”
“That seems easy. I get it,” Wolf stated confidently.
"No. Not easy!” Koji yelled. “You not get. Think on this. Will make you wiser."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Wolf and Polly sat with their backs to the wall as they watched Junsaku. He was barefoot and wearing his black zubon, three-quarter length, loose fitting pants, a black uwagi, a jacket tied at the waist with a sash, and gripping a narrow, cylindrical wooden staff called a jo. Junsaku placed one end of the jo underneath his right armpit, bent his elbow and rolled the stick over his shoulder until it was behind him. Then, with his left hand, he reached underneath his right elbow and pulled the staff back to the front of his body, moving it over to his left side and repeating the exercise again. Next, he incorporated his lower body, sliding his feet on the mat as he used the wooden staff like a sword, jabbing at invisible enemies, swinging the jo around his body, all of his movements rapid and seemingly effortless.
After fifteen minutes passed, he put one end of the stick on the floor and faced Wolf and Polly. “Omae. You,” said Junsaku, pointing his finger at Wolf, “come.”
Wolf stood up and went to him. Junsaku handed him the stick, and Wolf held it in his left hand
, resting the tip on the mat. Wolf looked at the jo and then at Junsaku and smiled. Polly drifted over and stood at Junsaku’s left side, her green eyes shining like emeralds as Junsaku reached out and took the stick back from Wolf. Junsaku took Polly’s hand and held it for several minutes before offering it to Wolf, and just as Wolf took her hand, the scene dissolved and they were back in the box.
“I am glad he saw us and let me touch the stick. I can’t believe he never hit himself with it. He was moving so fast,” Wolf whispered. “Okay, I need to sleep. I have to be up early to pull my weed and go to karate training before school.”
Wolf opened the lid to the cedar chest and climbed over the edge, returning to his bunk bed, the belt marks on his back stinging.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Kohai, let’s do third eye meditation,” Master Kelly said.
“Hai,” Wolf responded.
“When we activate our third eye, we shift our consciousness and move towards enlightenment.”
“Hai, Sensei.”
“Sit.”
Wolf and Master Kelly sat down on the bamboo floor of the dojo, crossing their legs in a lotus position, and straightening their spines.
“Close your eyes and begin to breathe in through your nose and out your mouth. Feel the air cooling your nose and flowing from your mouth,” his teacher said, watching as Wolf sat with his back straight and his palms turned upward on his knees, breathing slowly and deeply. “Good. Now, I want you to close your eyes and focus on the spot in the center of your forehead, near the bridge of your nose, and we will activate your pineal gland, or third eye, which is your inward eye. Do you see anything?” Master Kelly asked.
“Yes. I see a bright blue dot.”
“Focus on that dot, your third eye, and breathe.”
After several minutes, Master Kelly asked, “Do you still see the dot?”
She Named Me Wolf Page 14