AKootenaiPacknovel
Lynn Katzenmeyer
Tooth and Claw
Copyright © 2019 Lynn Katzenmeyer
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental
Cover design by nirkiri
Title Page
Copyright Dedication
One Two Three Four Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten Eleven
Twelve Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty Two
Twenty Three
Twenty Four
Twenty Five
Twenty Six
Contents
Twenty Seven
Twenty Eight
Twenty Nine
Thirty
Thirty One
Thirty Two
Thirty Three
Thirty Four
Thirty Five
Thirty Six
Thirty Seven
Thirty Eight
Thirty Nine
Forty
Forty One
Forty Two
Forty Three
Forty Four
Forty Five
Forty Six
Forty Seven
Forty Eight
Forty Nine
Fifty
Fifty One
Fifty Two
Fifty Three
Fifty Four
Fifty Five
Fifty Six
Fifty Seven
Fifty Eight
Fifty Nine
Sixty
Sixty One
Sixty Two
Sixty Three
Sixty Four
Sixty Five
Sixty Six
Sixty Seven
Sixty Seven
Epilogue
Author's note
Tomyhusband
One
10yearsago
The hard wooden pew dug uncomfortably in my legs and back as I waited for the Kootenai Pack weekly meeting to end for what would be the final time. I’ve spent every Saturday night at these meetings since before I was born, and now it was almost over. Eighteen years of these meetings and I was leaving the pack with nothing to show for it.
I was a dud. The last of my generation to shift, well, the only one of my generation who hasn’t shifted. After I graduated high school, I’d be out of here to live life as a human. I was going to finally be free. Alpha Biel continued his announcements, inviting all wolves to the celebratory pack run after commencement next weekend. My classmates yipped and yowled their excitement. After the graduation run, they’d be fully fledged members of the pack. Finally adult wolves ready to officially enter pack structure and start their lives with their mates.
I felt my mother’s shoulders sag beside me. Her only daughter was a dud. Mom would surely fall even lower in rank once the new wolves joined. There was no value to a female wolf who couldn’t produce viable heirs. I was her shame.
I shook the thought out of my head. It was not in my control. I accepted that I was just a human, mom needed to do the same.
The Alpha got the meeting back into order, he was running down the list of mating claims as more of the pubescent whelps started shifting and their wolves found their mates. He rattled off the names, the claiming of a new wolf to a full human quirked my interest slightly. I couldn’t let myself think of it though.
Had a recently shifted wolf claimed me as their mate, I wouldn’t have to leave the pack. Even as a dud, I carried the shifter genes and would be a more acceptable mate than a full human. I’d
have no choice but to stay if a wolf claimed me. But none had, so I am left to count the days to exile.
The meeting wrapped up with a warning about hunters in the area and to only shift in the center of pack land. The Kootenai Pack had several thousand acres of prime real estate near the Montana/Canada border. It was almost entirely forested except for the small town they’d set up in the far north end. Hunters seeking bear or wolf hides often set up traps along the edge of the territory, ignoring the no trespassing signs. A few pack members had nearly lost limbs due to the traps, they still bore ugly scars around their arms and legs where they’d run into them. Somehow, the scars were a symbol of shame and a badge of honor. They’d been caught, but they got away.
The pack moved from the meeting room to the basement of the town hall where they’d share a pack meal. As a dud, I ate last. As usual, the veggie tray was only radishes, the meat was only grissle, the fruit only cantaloupe, the desserts were all gone. I heard the laughter from the table for my generation. We’d all been good friends once, before their wolves came. Then one by one they formed a new group, one without me. My eyes briefly met the eerie gold of Kendrick Biel, the alpha’s son. His eyes narrowed and I looked away quickly. He was the first of our generation to shift, and ever since he hated humans, particularly me.
I joined my mother at her table and ate my measly plate. It was an insult not to eat at these gatherings, even if what was left was inedible. I’d learned that the hard way. The Alpha couldn’t touch me until I had a wolf, but he could punish my mother for my insolence. I only did it once, but she still had the scars on her back. Life would be better for her when I was gone. It hurt to admit, but it was true.
The Alpha’s family left the gathering first, which signaled the rest could go home. I had to stay and clean up with my mother and the other rank and file. We were low born, weak wolves, built to serve our Alpha.
Two
Presentday
My prosthetic arm beeped as I set my tray of fries down at Louie’s table. Louie Lark looked up at me, the deep lines in his face from years of hard work, hard drinking, and heavy smoking framed his kind pale blue eyes with concern. One of my favorite regulars, Louie fancied himself something of a father figure to me.
“Is the bionic barmaid running out of juice?” he asked with a laugh tinged with a serious edge. Louie reached out gingerly to my ten grand hand and flipped it over to see the battery level, “Go charge it. Sarah has the pub under control.”
I looked around The Tooth and Claw, it was only 4:30 in the afternoon on a Tuesday. My regulars were sitting at their tables, and a few tourists sat at a table, listening eagerly as Duke, regaled them with tales of when ship building was dangerous. The dinner rush would start in about an hour, I had time to plug in my most prized appendage.
“I’ll do that, Louie,” I told him wrapping my arm over his shoulder. Louie was one of the good ones. He’d had a hard time after his wife left him. Evan and I always made sure he ate before he drank himself into oblivion. It was the least we could do for him.
I wandered back into the kitchen where I kept my arm’s docking station. I had a second one upstairs in the apartment I shared with Evan, but the kitchen docking station got the most use. The arm sung happily as it started charging. I rubbed the amputation site, even ten years on it ached regularly. My prosthetist said it was because the surgeon hadn’t filed the bone smooth when they amputated. I only had to nod along, unable to tell him the truth.
I was lost in thought massaging my stump when I caught a scent I had hoped to forget, wolf, shifter wolf.
Three
10yearsago
I walked away from the Alpha House for hopefully the last time. The Kootenai Pack had been my home. It was where my parents met, where I was born, where my father died. It was all I knew.
In the distance I could hear the yips and howls of the pack wolves as they ran in the darkness. A low ache bloomed in my gut. The strong desire to join them, stained by the bitter knowledge I’d never be able to. The wind blew and the strong smell of pine and dew filled my nose. I paused my march home to appreciate it.
A week from now, when the pack had another meeting, I wouldn’t be here. My mind wandered to the future. The unknown. I was going to Minnesota, a place I’d never been before. Would it still smell the same?
A low growl pulled me from my reverie. I opened my eyes and whipped my head around from one direction to the next. Even in the dim light of the moon, I couldn’t see far enough into the forest surrounding the road to hear the source of the threatening sound. More growls joined the first.
This place had been my home. But I didn’t belong here. Their growls might as well have been their voices in taunts, runalonglittle dud, no one wants you here. Careful not to run, I walked home faster than before. The wolves hadn’t shown themselves but their message was clear.
I turned the corner onto the main road. Marcus Michaels was sitting on his front porch, petting the fur of a small grey wolf, his mate Kyla. A pang of jealousy rushed through me. Marcus was only fifteen, and even though he didn’t have his wolf yet, he got to participate fully in pack activities because Kyla claimed him. Almost
three full years younger than me, and he got to be treated as a member of the pack, while I was less than garbage.
Kyla’s wolf spotted me and growled low in her throat. We’d been friends once. Closer than sisters. Now she growled at me in wolf form, and taunted me in human form.
“Be nice,” Marcus scolded, “The dud will be gone in a few days. But if you attack her, she might have to stay to heal.”
Kyla’s wolf growled more and Marcus glared at me as I passed. They treated me like an intruder for walking on a public street. The only street that lead up the massive hill where my mother’s house was. There wasn’t another route for me to take home unless I magically sprouted wings....or fur.
I mentally cursed myself. I knew better than to allow myself the flight of fancy that my wolf would appear. I knew better. I needed to focus on the future. The May wind washed over my skin, still holding the last bitter chill of winter when I crested the top of the hill to the small house. Mom was in her bedroom with the door closed when I got home. One of the other widows likely gave her a ride home. At least she wouldn’t be completely alone when I was gone.
“Stop being sentimental, Aster,” I grumbled looking over my childhood bedroom.
Three days, well, two now. Two days until I was gone for good. I still needed to pack.
Four
Present Day
“What’s going on Lee?” Evan Easterling, co-owner, short order cook, and only other shifter I knew, asked.
He could smell that something was wrong, I smelled his bear getting worked up. Bears and wolves didn’t get along, in the wild or as shifters. Evan and I hadn’t initially either. Over the years, he'd become my best and most trusted friend.
“You need to go,” Evan said firmly. His shoulders were stiff and the scraping of the spatula on the grill had stopped, “a wolf just came in-”
Evan stared at me, his chocolate brown eyes filled with concern, “What’s going on?” I asked Sarah dinged the bell putting a ticket on the carousel. Evan ignored it, still focused on me,“A shifter wolf is in the bar.”
“What form?” I whispered.
“Human,” he breathed. The tension eased out of his shoulders as he continued to breathe, “Feels weak though. Male. Look through the window and tell me if it’s one of yours.”
I walked up to the window and pulled Sarah’s ticket from the carousel. It was a lot easier to take them off one handed than putting them on, trust me. I looked out over the restaurant until my eyes fell on the stranger. He had shaggy blond hair, wide blue eyes that searched the pub intently. I didn’t recognize him. He was wearing a jean jacket that would do nothing to shield him from the incoming winter storm.
“I don’t recognize him,” I told Evan, “But that doesn’t mean much, I haven’t seen another wolf shifter since...” I unconsciously looked down at my stump before handing Evan the ticket.
As part of our working and living relationship, Evan was bound ask about my missing limb sometime or another. And the story was bound to come out. I’d held off telling him for nearly three years, but a half a bottle of Jack while catering a wedding later, we got talking deep shit and it all spilled out. I like to think Evan and I bonded that night. He probably just remembers my massive hangover.
Evan walked to the window and pulled the ticket from my hand. He was looking out over the patrons until his eyes locked on his target, “He’s cute for a bark-head,” Evan muttered turning back to his grill, “You ever think about him?”
I knew the himEvan meant. Hehad haunted my dreams. He had stolen my soul. He had shattered me. He was thankfully, not the wolf in my bar.
“I wouldn’t know, I haven’t seen him in ten years,” I whispered because I knew as strong as Kendrick’s wolf had been when we were teenagers, the wolf at the bar could also have preternaturally good hearing, “What is he doing here?”
“Want me to go out there?” Evan asked puffing out his chest, “It’d take a really stupid wolf to fuck with a bear on his home territory.”
Evan’s grizzly would eat the wolf at the bar for breakfast. There was a reason lone wolves avoided bears. It would take a whole pack to bring one grizzly down, wild or shifter. I shook my head, “It’s not worth the risk. I’ll just go out there and ignore him.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard, right? Wolves ignore each other all the time” Evan’s words stung. He didn’t know how wrong he was. Wolf shifters sought each other out. They were constantly all over each other, particularly mates. But Evan’s knowledge of wolves was limited to what he’d learned from me over the years. The night I drunkenly confessed to Evan about my accident, I’d also confessed about my mate. He first shifted to a wolf at 13. He would have known that first day that I was his mate. Only it was worse than I’d drunkenly confessed to Evan, he didn’t ignore me the five years before my wolf appeared, he made my life hell.
I refocused on my deep tissue massage watching Evan caramelize onions for his house special burgers. He was a master in the kitchen. For a man of his size, his deftness with the spatula and quickness with knives still startled me. He was an excellent short order cook and a better businessman. I managed staffing, ordering, and cleaning front of house, he handled the the financials, paperwork, and the kitchen.
Sarah rang in another order and looked through the window, “Hey, Lee, you on break?”
“Charging my hand,” I told her. She nodded, completely nonplussed. She knew I’d be back on the floor in a heartbeat if she really needed me. My bionic arm made things easier, but I could do most aspects of my job without it.
My disability had never been an issue at the Tooth and Claw. Even when I’d been hired as a one armed homeless teen, fresh from pack exile. The original owner, Earl Easterling, found me crying in my car at the gas station. I’d just gotten into town, ready to find work before school started in the fall, and no one would hire me.
Earl looked me up and down, asked if I had a valid social security number and driver's license and put me to work cleaning the pub in the mornings. He had me practice pouring beers and opening bottles using my residual limb until I was almost as capable as his two handed barbacks. Once school started he had me working the pub as a barback in the evenings after classes. If any patrons gave me a hard time about my arm, he’d throw them out no matter who they were. His love and support bled into the the entire town.
I’d been lost in thought remembering Earl when I heard time between ticket bells shrink from once every fifteen or so minutes to once every ten minutes. Sarah was getting busier. I looked back at my arm, it was only half charged, but it’d get me through the night. I put it back on, carefully adjusting so it fit as well as it could. And went back to work.
Sarah was behind the bar pulling drafts, three Guinness, a Red Ale. I knew precisely who that was for. I twisted the wrist of my prosthesis for tray balancing and took the tray from her. I wandered through the pub to Duke’s table. I ignored the metaphysical pull that
seemed to go from deep in my spine out to the interloper. I refused to look where that thread would take me.
Duke was bundled up for the season in his large white cable knit sweater under his carhartt coat. He had three young male tourists listening to him with rapt attention. I set the tray down and set the ale in front of Duke and passed the Guinnesses to the young men. Duke insisted any guests at his table drank a proper beer, while he remained on the light stuff. Duke momentarily smiled at me with a quick thank you before turning back to his story. I twisted my wrist to hold my order pad. Duke would next insist the young men order Evan’s special burger and chili fries, while only having a cheeseburger himself. I tucked my tray under my arm and wrote up the ticket. I walked back toward the bar stopping at tables of families taking orders on the way. I put the tickets in kitchen window and turned my attention to the drink orders.
“Maybe you can help me-” his voice was deeper than I expected it to be. It sent chills down my spine. Without turning around I knew it was the wolf.
“You ready to order doll?” I asked setting my tray on the empty table before turning to face him pulling my order pad from my apron and my pen from my hair.
The shifter appraised me, confusion on his brow. I saw his nose twitch. He brushed his shaggy blond hair back with his hand giving me a super dose of his smell. He was wolf alright, but he wasn’t a weak one. My wolf longed to know the beast beneath the surface.
I looked at him expectantly with my pen poised over the order pad. He had no power over me here. We were in a human bar, myhuman bar. I felt the pull of longing from my wolf. She wanted to see him, to stare into his golden eyes and finally be whole, but Kendrick wasn’t here and maybe this wolf would suffice. He didn’t say anything so I put my pad away, “Just let me know when you’re ready then.”
I took my filled tray of drink orders and brought them out to the patrons. I smiled and gave idle chit chat. They were almost all
locals this time of year. The lake was frozen and no ships would leave the yard until May. I continued to move through the floor of my small but full pub, picking up empties and promising to return with what they needed. I made my way back to the bar. The wolf was following me. I dumped the bottles in the recycling and collected more beers. I hung the ticket on the window and rang the bell.
I filled the tray and my human barmaid, Sarah picked it up, “Earl’s table,” I told her. She’d know exactly what I meant even though Earl died years ago. That’s the way these dive bars worked. The table where Earl had held court would always be Earl’s table. Men like Earl never died, they just turned into legends.
I needed to focus my attention anywhere except for the massive werewolf following me around my pub. I pushed through the tavern doors into the kitchen.
I took a deep breath and adjusted my clothes so I didn’t look as disheveled as I felt. Evan handed me a tray with the burgers and his special chili fries on it, “Duke’s table,” he told me. Evan must have smelled Duke come in long before I got the order to the window.
I walked out as confidently as I could manage and set the burger and fries before Duke and his entourage, “Easterling burger specials for you three and Cheeseburger and Chili Fries for the Duke,” I told the gentlemen sitting in Duke’s booth. Duke smiled up at me, like Louie, his face was marred with the deep lines that only working outside and smoking could provide.
“Lee, I haven’t even ordered yet,” he said with a semi toothless smile, “What if I wanted to try something new?”
“Then the devil had better buy a parka,” I told him with a laugh, “I’ll be right out with your 7 and 7.” He liked to sip a 7 and 7 after he ate the chili fries, he always said more beer after the chili fries gave him too much heartburn.
“You’re the best!” he hollered after me as I made my way back to the bar. I felt the stranger’s eyes on me the entire time I worked. He’d taken a seat at the bar now, following me around the pub hadn’t worked to catch my attention, he was trying a new tactic.
I focused my attention on anywhere but the shifter. I went behind the bar and made Duke’s drink. Taking a few orders from the patrons at the bar as I went. A bottle of beer here, a capt’n and coke, there. Sarah came back with another order for Earl’s table, those guys were hitting it hard tonight. I’d have to have Evan keep an eye on them.
“I’m ready to order,” the wolf finally said. He was sitting on a bar stool right in front of me. He was posturing power. Dominance. I stared at him, this was myterritory, he could try to challenge me for it but my wolf would die before she let him take it. He was not welcome here. I turned my attention to Professor Carlson and his wife sitting at the other end of the bar.
“What’ll you have hon?” Sarah asked him, seeing I was occupied with my other patrons. She angled herself so her v-neck Tooth and Claw pub shirt would angle down giving the wolf a great view.
“Aster,” he said gruffly.
“Sorry, love,” Sarah said sweetly, “I haven’t heard of that drink, what’s in it, I’ll see if I can whip it up for you.”
Evan dinged the bell, another order up. I turned and filled my tray ready to bring the order over to Chuck’s table.
Five
10yearsago
Commencement was bittersweet. The few human friends I’d made didn’t understand why I couldn’t spend one final summer hanging out and enjoying myself before college. I couldn’t explain to them I was no longer welcome in town. I had three hours after the school superintendent called my name and handed me my diploma to be off pack land for good.
I spent the final weeks of senior year packing and looking for work close to Easterville College, where I’d been offered a full ride scholarship for school. It was a larger town than I’d grown up in, but still small enough. Most people worked at the Easterville Shipyards, though business had taken a sharp downturn with each new recession. I was excited to live in a new place, though Easterville wasn’t my first choice.
Easterville had rapidly become my only option when I discovered I would not be getting the customary exile hush money, I wasn’t a wolf, only wolves were given severance funds. I’d be sent away with my car and whatever I managed to fit inside of it. Working at the Bark About It Diner had provide a small savings during school. I started saving hard after I turned 16 and the probability of being a dud loomed over my head. Tips were meager, wolves rarely tipped their lessers, but I saved every penny in case the worst happened, which it had.
“Aster Lee Fields,” the superintendent called and I walked across the stage careful to smile at the humans and keep my eyes away from the wolves. I shook his sweaty hand and took my diploma. The clock started. Unfortunately for me, Fields is early in the alphabet and I had to wait. It was rude to leave before it was over, and rudeness wouldn’t go unpunished. The ceremony lasted another hour and half. It wasn’t enough time. I gave my mother a
quick goodbye hug and raced for my car. If the Alpha found me on pack land after the clock ran out, he’d punish my mother for sure.
My generation of wolves were gathered tightly near the exit. I’d have to get through them to reach my car. They wouldn’t move. Kendrick Biel stood in the center of them, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Please let me pass, I don’t have much time,” I pleaded unable to meet his eyes.
“Where’re you going Ass-turd?” Kyla Michaels teased. She was the weakest of the wolves and she knew it. As soon as I was gone, she’d be the whipped whelp. I looked at her, with fire in my soul.
“I’m leaving. Step aside before I make you move,” I felt power rise in my voice. I didn’t know where it came from. Kyla’s eyes blinked and she moved to let me pass. I prowled through the group meeting all of their eyes until they backed down. Only Jackson Lorde and Kendrick Biel stood between me and the door. Kendrick would be alpha one day, no doubt he’d keep Jackson at his side as an enforcer. Kendrick looked down at me his jaw squared, his haunting gold eyes bored into me, I stared straight back. His eyes were still the same gorgeous golden shade from childhood, they were harder now, less honey more metal, “Move.” I ordered him.
“You can’t make him do anything,” Jackson snarled, his voice so low I doubted anyone besides me could hear it, “he’ll be Alpha one day and you’re nothing.”
“I’m everything,” I said in a calm voice, I kept my eyes trained on the future alpha, unafraid to look away from Kendrick despite Jackson’s threat, “You may be Alpha one day, but that doesn’t mean anything to me,” I turned to glance at Jackson, “I’m a dud, remember?”
Jackson grabbed my hair with one hand and held his other fist back, threatening to hit me, “Get out of my sight bloodthief.”
“Fuck you,” the words left my mouth before I could stop them. Jackson’s dark brown eyes widened in surprise and darkened just as fast. His fist whistled through the air striking me, hard before I could duck or flinch.
“Your time is running out, dud,” he said menacingly his hand still firmly gripped in my hair tossed me into the door, “Do you think your mother’s wolf can take another whipping?”
I spared one last glance at Kendrick before I pushed through the door and ran out of the building. The wolves cackling laughter echoed as I ran. Ran out of town. Out of the pack life forever.
Six
Presentday
“I’m looking for a girl- woman named Aster,” the wolf explained to Sarah.
His voice was dripping with power that my wolf yearned to obey. He was like her, and she’d craved a pack since she first burst from my skin. More than pack she wanted Kendrick. My wolf didn’t care what he’d done to us, the moon goddess had decided he was hers and she was his and she craved her mate like I craved water.
“Well there’s no Aster here, sweety,” Sarah laughed, “It’s a small town, I know all the locals. Maybe check the college. Is there anything I can get you?”
The wolf ordered a burger and beer and turned his attention to his phone. I tried to focus my attention anywhere but this wolf but I heard the shutter of the phone camera. What had he taken a picture of?
I loaded up another tray of drinks to bring around the pub. I felt him draw closer to me. Sarah was coming to pick up the tray, “Mind the bar, will you?” I asked her twisting my wrist to hold the tray. Sarah nodded. She was a human college student working primarily for tips. She got much better tips working the bar than she did running tables.
I maneuvered around the tables setting down fresh drinks and picking up empties. Finally, I set another vodka and water in front of Louie. I could tell he was going to have a tough night. Sparing a glance around the bar my eyes met the wolf’s blue eyes he was staring at me. Sarah put the plate of food in front of him but he didn’t acknowledge her. He was watching me like a hunter watches his prey. I spun around before my wolf got what she wanted and I went to him. The pull was strong. My knees buckled
and I slid into the booth across from Louie, refocusing my eyes anywhere but the bar.
“That guy giving you trouble?” Louie asked. His eyes were starting to glass over as he took a sip of the drink. He reopened his eyes and stared at the bar, “He keeps looking over here.”
I ran my left hand through my long black hair, “He’s a blast from the past I’d rather have stayed there,” I told him wishing I had my own drink to guzzle down.
“Was he pre or post accident?” Louie asked seriously. Like most humans in town, he’d been told that I’d lost my right arm just below the elbow in a hunting accident. From the rumors spread by Hippa-violation nurses, it was widely assumed that the “hunting accident” involved me being left in the woods alone for several days and that’s why I didn’t like to talk about it.
“I don’t know,” I sighed unable to invent a lie. I knew Louie wouldn’t press it. He had his own demon battles to fight without dredging up the demons in others.
Louie reached across the table and held my bionic hand. I’m sure if it had nerve endings, I would have felt the warm calloused hands and found it comforting, “I think your arm needs a charge,” he said with a wink. Despite his level of intoxication, he found the off switch for the hand.
I smirked at him, and winked back, “Why, I do believe it does. I should take care of that now.”
My bionic arm was as good as useless when off. There were some models that functioned like my basic prosthesis after their batteries died, but those ones didn’t have the weight tolerances I required carrying full drink trays. I awkwardly slid the empty bottle laden tray onto my left arm and carefully maneuvered back to the bar.
“Battery died,” I told Sarah before ducking back into the kitchen and putting my arm on the charging station for the second time tonight.
Evan raised an eyebrow at me, watching me rub the stump again, “Do you need to take the night off?” I shook my head, “You going old school?”
“Looks like it,” I told him, “It just shut off on me,” Evan could smell a lie, like most shifters, but this was the fine line of ‘technical truth.’
“This doesn’t have anything to do with the wolf, who, by the way, has been sitting at the bar staring daggers at me since you got back here,” Evan told me, “If he doesn’t eat and leave, I’m going to throw him out.”
“He keeps asking Sarah for an ‘Aster,’” I told him, “Poor girl has no idea what kind of drink that is.”
Evan groaned, “I swear these college kids are just getting dumber and dumber.”
I patted Evan’s shoulder with my stump, “I’ll holler if I need you.”
I pushed through the tavern door and went right back to work. Blondie did not leave his barstool and I did not make eye contact with him again. I worked the rest of my shift as I had when I first started at the Tooth and Claw. It was just as challenging as I remembered. My residual joint was going to be raw from opening twist top bottles with it.
I felt his eyes on me the entire night and I carefully ducked his gaze. I wanted him to get uncomfortable and leave. I needed for him to see what he came here for. I was damaged, I was broken, I was a survivor. I wanted him to see me struggle to do things Sarah could do easily. I needed him to see me as weak so he’d underestimate me if the time came to fight.
The clock was ticking down to 10. A weeknight in Easterville, 10 was closing. At quarter to, the replica ships whistle above the bar sounded. Last call.
“Louie requested you bring him his next drink,” Sarah told me, “Said you’d know what he wanted.”
I nodded. Last call, meant that Louie had been drinking for nearly seven hours. I started brewing a carafe of coffee letting Sarah announce last call for the non regulars who may not know what the whistle meant. She made the rounds getting the final drink orders. Being a Tuesday night, there were only 6 patrons left. Duke and his tourists, Louie, and the wolf.
I heard Sarah pointedly ask the wolf what he wanted several times during the night, each time he only said, “Aster.”
When she called last call she went up to him again, “You’ve been taking up precious real estate on my bar all night. Order something or get out.”
“I’m here to talk to Aster,” he said in a low menacing tone.
“There’s no Asterhere bucko, now get gone before I call Evan out here,” Sarah snarled back. She may be young, short, and human, but she didn’t take shit from anyone.
The coffee maker beeped and I pulled out three mugs and poured. Setting the full cups on my tray I carefully slid it onto my left hand and walked it over to Louie’s table.
“Evan coming out too?” Louie asked hopefully, I nodded. Louie relaxed and took a sip of his coffee.
Duke herded his boys out giving a shout to Sarah, Evan, and I that we’d see him tomorrow. I waved back. Evan came out from the kitchen, he’d long since cleaned it and was ready for our nightly ritual of coffee with Louie.
“Looks like that past of yours is about to get thrown out,” Louie slurred excitedly, “Serves him right.”
I smirked taking a careful sip of my own mug. I’d slid as far into the booth as I could get. Evan would sit next to me after he locked up.
“You need to leave,” Evan said, obviously to the wolf, though I was not watching the altercation.
“I need to talk to Aster,” the wolf repeated, “I’m not leaving until I do.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that. Sarah, you can go home early tonight,” Evan told her, “Lee and I will handle closing up.”
“You sure?” she asked, I could hear the eagerness in her voice.
“Yea, go home kid,” Evan told her, “Make sure you text us that you made it home safe or we’ll have to hunt you down.”
“I won’t forget!” she called, I could tell she was already grabbing her purse in the back room. She’d be home real quick. I
heard her old ford pick up truck rumble to life and make it down several blocks before Evan started to speak again.
“Are you going to leave? Or are we going to have problems?” Evan asked, more menacing this time.
Louie was watching the entire event with wide eyes.
“She’s one of mine, bear,” the wolf snarled. Louie’s eyes narrowed he was straining to hear what was being said, good. He didn’t need to hear this.
“That’s not what she says,” Evan replied, his voice just as low. Louie was leaning forward, even with his hearing aids, he wouldn’t be able to hear, “what kind of man can live with himself after forcing a female to chew her own arm off?”
The wolf growled again, louder this time. I could feel his wolf was near to the surface, I had to get Louie out of here before it came out.
I got out of the booth and pulled Louie out using more strength than I should have had, “Come on Louie, time to go.”
“But I don’t want to miss-” he whined looking back toward the bar. I used my stump to turn his head back to the door and brought him outside.
“Keys please,” I said, holding out my left hand. It had been awhile since I’d driven without my bionic arm, but I’d manage. I’d driven Louie’s oldsmobile more in the last two years than I’d driven my own car. Louie handed them to me without argument. This was the deal we’d struck. He could drink himself to death in our pub, if either Evan or I drove him home each night.
Louie slid into the passenger seat and I took the drivers. He only lived four blocks away from the Tooth and Claw, but at his age, and his state of afternoon intoxication, four blocks could be deadly. The wind was picking up and bits of snow flew on the windshield. I cursed the old car for taking forever to heat up. By the time I had it pulled into the garage, it still hadn’t started blowing warm air.
I came around the passenger side and helped Louie out. He was passed out. I leaned down and unbuckled his seat belt, “Come on, Louie, get up.” I hefted him to standing and he groaned, “Come on Louie, you have to help me get you inside.”
“Don’t stay with a man who treats you like shit,” Louie murmured taking a careful step forward into the car door, “Certainly don’t go back to one.”
“Come on buddy, up we go,” I helped him up the steps from his garage into his house. I turned on the kitchen light and we made it to the living room. That’s as far as I’d take him.
“Sleep well, Louie,” I told him placing the blanket over his legs. He started crying. He’d probably cry the rest of the night.
“I miss her so much, Lee,” he cried, “Why’d she leave me?”
I ran my fingers over what was left of his thinning grey hair, “I don’t know, Louie. I just don’t know.”
Seven
10yearsago
It was difficult to focus on driving my car while trying not to catch a glimpse of my newly blackened eye. It seemed that even though I was a soon to be exiled human dud, Kendrick’s flunkies still weren’t afraid to show me who was boss. The wound stung and was starting to swell. I looked down at the clock. I had forty minutes to get 60 miles. I’d never make it.
I was so angry. I hated them all. As if life hadn’t been hard enough for me being raised in the pack. I had spent every day of my life for yearspreparing to become a wolf, to find a mate, and raise a litter of pups, and I wouldn’t get any of it. The people I’d been raised with, my friends, my pack, tortured me for it. I waited for my wolf so I could join them and end my misery. I was patient. I sat outside on the forest border every night for years willing the wolf to come out of me.
“Flowers bloom all year round, Aster dear,” my mom would say as shewiped my tears after each new wolf made its way into theworld,“You’reaSeptemberflower.Yourwolfwillcome.”
But she never came. I watched all my friends go through the change and pair up under my nose. One day, they’d be normal, the next they’d be glued at the hip to another wolf, having become one of them. I prayed to the moon goddess for years to show me my wolf. I wanted to be a part of the pack. I wanted to be a real member of my family. I wanted friends. By age 17, they’d all changed, but not me. I’d held out hope that maybe a younger wolf would recognize me as his mate, at least then I could stay. But none had claimed me.
The anger grew painful in my gut. I pressed my foot down on the gas, better to risk a speeding ticket than a brutal whipping for
my mother. My car was nearing its limit when the pain in my gut grew worse.
I could hardly breathe, I couldn’t think. I heard popping and my hips burned with a fire I’d never felt before. My arms hurt like they were being pricked by thousands of tiny pins. I looked down at them, they’d started sprouting fur. I had to pull over. I was so close to the border. One mile, maybe two but I couldn’t concentrate. Black fur was burning its way through my body and I could feel each follicle widen to accept it.
I was changing
I opened the car door and quickly took off the cap and gown. The popping in my back prevented me from saving my sundress and shoes. I collapsed on the side of the road. It hurt so bad. I crawled into the ditch, if a human saw me changing it would be the end of their lives, and mine.
I wasn’t a dud.
The joy of not being a failure temporarily blocked out the pain as every bone in my body broke and reshaped. My knees popped backward as my femur shortened. My nose and jaws elongated. I closed my eyes as a girl and reopened them as a wolf.
I heard howls miles in the distance. The pack was running to celebrate the commencement. I longed to run with them. Then I felt it.
The unmistakable pull.
I’d heard it described every Sunday at shifter school. It encompassed every part of my being. I needed to go to it. To him, to my mate. Wherever he was I needed to be. He was in the woods away from my car. I raced, unsteady on my four paws at first but quickly finding my pace. I was a wolf. I was running as a wolf. I raced pulled by the invisible leash leading me to my mate. The one the moon goddess had made just for me. I knew he’d love me. He wouldn’t care I was almost a dud, he’d just want me.
I heard another howl, this one closer, mournful, mine. I howled back, joining his song, the song of my mate. His howl abruptly cut off. He was on the move. The leash rapidly changed directions pulling me a new direction. I needed to follow it, I had to
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always been looked up to by the younger children as a superior being. In the first place, she was the only one of them who could remember Mamma, and then she was so very clever. Dulcie always knew her lessons, and moreover, she really liked to study. Even Miss Hammond, strictest of teachers, never had any complaints to make against Dulcie; and Daisy had once overheard Aunt Kate telling a visitor that “the eldest child was really remarkably bright, and took after her dear grandfather.” Now, the children all knew that Grandpa Winslow had been a great man in his day, and to hear that one of them was supposed to resemble him was a most wonderful compliment, especially from Aunt Kate, who seldom said pleasant things about any one. So perhaps Dulcie may be pardoned for being a trifle conceited, and conscious of her own importance.
“Here comes the first carriage,” announced Daisy, from her post at the window.
All the others hurried to get a glimpse of the first arrivals at the party. The carriage door was opened by a man in livery, and several figures were hustled up the Van Arsdales’ front steps, under the awning. Another and another carriage followed, and the next ten minutes were—according to Daisy—“really quite exciting.” But watching the arrival of guests at a party to which one has not been invited, is not, after all, a very thrilling amusement, and by the time the sixth carriage had deposited its freight, and rolled away, even Daisy’s enthusiasm had begun to cool.
“How hard it rains,” said Molly, flattening her nose against the window-pane. “I wonder if the stolen child is out in all this storm.”
“Of course she is,” said Dulcie in a tone of conviction. “She’s been out all day with her basket, and she’s wet through and so cold and hungry. But her basket isn’t full yet, and she doesn’t dare go home, for fear that dreadful woman will beat her.”
Dulcie gave a little shiver, and glanced from the window back to the warm, comfortable room.
“It’s terribly sad,” said Daisy, with a sigh. “I do wish we could help her find her family. If we could only get acquainted with her, we might be
able to find out how she was stolen. They always remember something, you know, even if it’s happened when they were very little.”
“Let’s make up some more about her,” said Molly. “Come and sit close to the register, it’s so nice and warm. It’s nicer to talk about things like that when you’re very comfortable.”
“All right,” agreed Dulcie, and they all four gathered round the register, where the hot air from the furnace puffed in their faces.
“You begin, Dulcie,” commanded Daisy. “You make up so much better than we do. Tell what’s going to happen when she gets home to-night.”
“Well,” began Dulcie, her eyes growing big and dreamy, as they always did when she “made up things.” “It will be quite dark before she dares to go home, and she will be so tired that she can hardly drag herself up the long flight of stairs, to that dirty garret. There won’t be any fire because the wicked old woman will be drunk again. She’ll be asleep on a pile of rags, snoring very loud, and the stolen child will be afraid to wake her. So she’ll put down her basket, and creep away into a corner, and sit there shivering, and trying to keep her teeth from chattering. But by and by she’ll remember the little prayer her mother taught her, and after that she won’t be quite so unhappy, and—— Why, Maud, what is the matter—whatever are you crying about?”
“I—I don’t like it,” sobbed Maud, the tender-hearted, flinging herself upon Dulcie’s lap. “I don’t want the poor little girl to be so cold and hungry.” And the sobs changed to a wail.
“Oh, hush, lovey, don’t cry like that,” pleaded Daisy, soothing and petting her little sister, while Dulcie added in hasty explanation:
“Don’t be such a baby, Maud. It’s only a story I’m making up. We don’t really know anything about the little girl at all.”
“But you said—you said she was so cold and so hungry,” wailed Maud, “and I don’t like to hear about people being cold and hungry.”
“Oh, Maud, do stop,” protested Molly “If you cry so loud, Grandma will hear, and think how she’ll scold.”
But Maud’s feelings were not so easily soothed, and she continued to sob, and to declare over and over again that she didn’t like sad stories—she didn’t want to hear about the stolen child—until the other three were at their wits’ end.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Maud,” exclaimed Daisy, with a sudden inspiration. “If you’ll stop crying, I’ll go down to the kitchen and see if there isn’t some ice-cream left. If there is, I’ll coax Bridget to let me have some, and you shall eat every bit of it, because you’re the youngest.”
Maud stopped short in the middle of a wail.
“Will you really?” she inquired doubtfully.
“Yes, I will,” promised Daisy. “Now wipe your eyes, like a good girl. Where’s your handkerchief? Oh, you haven’t got one. Well, never mind, here’s mine. There, that’s all right. You won’t cry any more, will you?”
“Suppose there isn’t any ice-cream left?” suggested Maud, still doubtfully.
“Well, there’s sure to be some cake left, anyhow, and I’m sure Bridget will give me a piece for you. Now keep still, and I’ll be back just as quick as I can.”
Maud was mollified and Daisy ran quickly down the four flights of stairs to the basement without meeting any one by the way. She tiptoed past Grandma’s door, which was fortunately closed, or she would probably have been stopped and questioned. Arrived at the kitchen, she found Bridget and Mary both taking afternoon tea. They were sitting at the kitchen table, and between them was a dish containing several tempting little frosted cakes. At Daisy’s entrance they both looked up, and Mary inquired rather sharply:
“Now what in the world are you after down here at this time of day? Did your grandma send you?”
“No,” said Daisy, pausing in the doorway, “nobody sent me. I just came to ask if there was any ice-cream left. I don’t want much, only a little for Maud. Dulcie told a story that made her cry, and I promised to bring her something to eat if I could. She loves ice-cream, and I thought perhaps——” Daisy paused in some embarrassment.
Both the maids laughed, and Bridget—who was generally goodnatured—pushed back her chair from the table.
“There isn’t very much left,” she said. “I was keeping it for our supper, but I suppose you may as well have it.”
“Oh, thank you,” cried Daisy, gratefully; “you’re very kind. I’m sorry to take it away from you and Mary, but Maud is so unhappy. I’m sure the ice-cream will make her feel cheerful again.”
Bridget retired to the ice-box, from whence she presently returned with a well-filled saucer of pink ice-cream.
“It’s too bad there isn’t enough for you all,” she said, kindly, “but the madame’s that stingy, she never will order more than just enough to go round. You can have a couple of these cakes, anyhow, and that’ll be better than nothing.”
Daisy’s heart beat very fast, as she stole softly up-stairs again with her precious burden. She reached the second floor in safety, and was just beginning to breathe more freely, when there came an interruption. Grandma’s door opened suddenly, and a sharp, querulous voice demanded:
“Who’s that?”
Daisy’s heart gave a big jump, but she tried to speak quite naturally.
“It’s only I, Grandma,” she faltered, and try as she might, she could not keep the tremor altogether out of her voice.
Mrs. Winslow stepped out into the hall.
“What is that you are carrying so carefully?” she inquired, suspiciously.
“It’s—it’s just a little ice-cream, and some cakes that were left from the lunch party. Bridget gave them to me for Maud. Maud was crying
over a story Dulcie told, and——”
“Never mind about explanations,” interrupted Grandma, frowning. “You all know perfectly well that you are not allowed to eat between meals, or to bring food up-stairs. Take those things directly back to the kitchen. I shall speak to Bridget about this to-morrow morning.”
The tears started to Daisy’s blue eyes.
“Oh, Grandma,” she pleaded, “please do let us have it, just this once. Maud loves ice-cream so much, and she hardly ever has any. You see, it was this way: Maud made up a story about a little beggar girl we see sometimes. We think she must be a stolen child, because she has blue eyes and golden hair; stolen children always have in books, and we like to make up things about her. This was a very sad story, but we didn’t think Maud——”
“I am not interested in all that nonsense,” interrupted Grandma, impatiently. “Do as I tell you, and never let me hear of your bringing food up-stairs again without permission.”
Daisy’s lip quivered, but she dared not disobey, and with a sigh that was half a sob, she turned away, and went slowly down-stairs again. When she returned to the nursery, five minutes later, she was relieved to find that Maud had stopped crying, and was standing with Molly, eagerly looking out of the window.
“They’re beginning to dance,” announced Maud. “The gas is lit in the parlor, and they haven’t pulled down one shade.”
“I suppose there wasn’t any cream left,” said Dulcie in a low voice. In their interest in the Van Arsdales’ party, the two younger ones had apparently forgotten the subject of food.
“There was a little,” Daisy admitted, “and Bridget let me have it for Maud, and some cakes, too; but on the way up-stairs I met Grandma, and she made me take the things back to the kitchen. She said we were forbidden to bring food up here, or to eat between meals.”
Dulcie’s eyes flashed. For a moment she did not speak, and then she said, slowly:
“I hate Grandma, and some day I’m going to tell her so.”
“Oh, Dulcie,” gasped Daisy, in horrified reproach, “you mustn’t say such things. It’s terribly wicked to hate people.”
“I know it is,” said Dulcie, “and I suppose I must be a very wicked person. Perhaps I shall never go to heaven, but I do hate Grandma just the same, and there isn’t any use in pretending I don’t.”
CHAPTER II A VISITOR
PEOPLE dined earlier in 1880 than they do nowadays. The Winslows’ dinner hour was six o’clock, and by seven the table had been cleared, and the family settled down in the dining-room, where they usually spent their evenings. The children’s bedtime was eight, and that hour after dinner always seemed to them the longest hour of the whole day. Mrs. Winslow had a theory that families should spend their evenings together, and so they were never allowed to wander off and find amusements for themselves. She also had another theory, that young people should never speak except when addressed by their elders, and as neither she nor her daughter were at all fond of the society of children, the little girls were seldom encouraged to join in the conversation. Dulcie had once remarked that Grandma only talked when she had something to scold about, and Aunt Kate spent a great deal of time knitting caps for sailors, and was so busy counting stitches that she was apt to forget the presence of any one else in the room. Aunt Kate was considered among her friends to be a very charitable woman. She was on the Board of any number of societies for improving the condition of the poor, and was constantly attending “Meetings,” but it was seldom that she troubled herself to think of the four little girls who lived in the big front room on the top floor, and who, if not objects of charity, would certainly have been better and happier for a little mothering now and then.
Grandma was very fond of playing solitaire, and as soon as the dinner-table was cleared, she generally got out the cards, and that meant that she was not to be disturbed by any one, even her daughter. Dulcie could often find amusement in a book, or even in the evening paper, but to the three younger ones that hour between dinner and bedtime was decidedly tiresome.
On this particular January evening things seemed, if possible, even duller than usual. The children had been in the house all day, and were, in consequence, feeling particularly wide awake, and anxious for some kind of active exercise. When Aunt Kate requested Molly to wind some wool for her, the little girl jumped up with such alacrity that she knocked over a chair, and received a severe reproof from Grandma.
“Careless child,” scolded the old lady, looking up from her cards with a frown; “can’t you move without breaking the furniture?”
Molly, who was rather sensitive, blushed scarlet, and murmured an apology. But even winding wool is more interesting than doing nothing at all, so she soon cheered up, and ventured a timid attempt at conversation.
“It’s going to be a pretty cap,” she remarked politely. “If I were a sailor I think I should like it.”
“Should you?” said Miss Kate, sarcastically. “It is rather a pity you are not a sailor, then, isn’t it?”
Aunt Kate had a way of saying things in that sarcastic tone, and Molly instantly relapsed into embarrassed silence. Dulcie was glancing over the front page of the Evening Post, being very careful not to rattle the paper, because the rattling of a newspaper made Grandma nervous. Maud stifled a yawn, and began surreptitiously rubbing her eyes. Maud, being the youngest, was sometimes permitted to go to bed before her sisters, but to-night Grandma was absorbed in her solitaire, and did not notice the yawn. Daisy kept her eyes fixed on the clock. Twenty minutes to eight. Only twenty more minutes, and then they would all be free. They would hurry and get undressed, and when they were in bed perhaps Dulcie would tell them stories about Mamma. She often did after they had said their prayers, and the light was out, and it was all very cozy and pleasant. Mamma had talked to Dulcie just before she died, and told her she must be a little mother to the others, and always be good to them and never let them forget their prayers. Molly had once said that perhaps Mamma was looking down on them from heaven, and that when they were in bed, and Dulcie was talking about her, she came
to them, and loved them, although, of course, they could not see her Daisy and Maud had thought this a beautiful idea, and had been much surprised to hear Dulcie sigh, and say rather sadly:
“I hope she doesn’t know about things.”
“Why not?” Molly had demanded in astonishment. “I should think you would love to think that perhaps Mamma came to see us.”
“I wouldn’t like to have her unhappy about us,” Dulcie answered, gravely, “and I’m afraid she would be unhappy if she knew about Grandma. You can’t remember Danby, and how happy we were there, but I can, and I know how different everything was when Mamma was here.”
Daisy wished that she could remember that happy time, too, but the memories were all very dim and indistinct.
For five minutes the only sounds to break the stillness of the room were the ticking of the clock and the click of Aunt Kate’s knitting needles. Then the newspaper rustled, and Grandma looked up from her cards for the second time.
“Leave that paper alone, Dulcie,” she said, impatiently “You know the rustling of a newspaper is very unpleasant to me.”
“Excuse me, Grandma,” apologized Dulcie. “I’ll try not to do it again. I was so interested in something I was reading, I turned over the sheet to finish it.”
“What were you reading?” Grandma inquired suspiciously.
“About a man who was killed. They think he was murdered. They found his body——”
“Good gracious, child!” cried Grandma, quite forgetting to shuffle her cards in her dismay. “Don’t you know you are not to read such things? Put that paper down at once, and don’t let me see you touch a newspaper again until you are old enough to know what to read, and what to leave alone.”
Dulcie blushed.
“Miss Hammond says everybody ought to read the newspaper,” she began. “It’s very interesting about that man. Won’t you please let me finish it, Grandma?”
“Certainly not, and don’t argue. Such things are not proper reading for a child of your age. Your father would be very angry if he ever heard of your reading such disgusting stories.”
“Would he?” said Dulcie, and she instantly put down the paper. There was no one in the world whom Dulcie loved as she loved her father.
“Of course he would,” said Mrs. Winslow. “Remember, you are not to look at a newspaper again until I give you permission. What are you rubbing your eyes in that way for, Maud?”
“I’m sleepy,” said Maud. Maud was less afraid of Grandma than any of the others, and if Mrs. Winslow had a favorite among her stepson’s children, it was little curly-headed Maud, who was scarcely more than a baby when the family had arrived from the West five years ago.
Grandma glanced at the clock.
“Nearly five minutes to eight,” she said; “you may as well all go to bed.”
Four little girls sprang from their chairs with so much alacrity that, if Grandma had been a real grandmother, instead of “only a step,” as Dulcie called her, her feelings might have been hurt. But Mrs. Winslow had no objection to the children’s evident dislike of her society She meant to do her duty to her husband’s grandchildren, but she never thought of them in any other light than as a troublesome incumbrance. They each gave her a sedate “duty kiss,” and murmured a polite “Good-night, Grandma,” and she heaved a sigh of relief that another day was over. As for Aunt Kate, she frankly confessed that she hated to be kissed, and the children never dreamed of troubling her in any such way.
“Oh, it is nice to get up here again, all by ourselves, isn’t it?” cried Daisy, with a happy little skip, as they entered their own big nursery, and Dulcie lighted the gas. “I feel sometimes as if I couldn’t breathe
down there with Grandma and Aunt Kate. Let’s hurry to bed, and then you’ll talk to us about Mamma, won’t you, Dulcie?”
Dulcie nodded rather absently She was still thinking about the newspaper story that Grandma had interrupted.
“Hark!” exclaimed Maud, eagerly. “There’s the singing lady.”
They all paused to listen, and, sure enough, from somewhere that sounded as if it came from within the wall, could be distinctly heard the notes of a piano, and of a sweet voice singing. The walls in the old house were rather thin, and by pressing their ears against the party wall, which divided the Winslows’ from the house next door, they could even distinguish the words of the song.
“It’s ‘Robin Adair,’” said Molly. “Isn’t it pretty? I think I like it best of all the songs she sings.”
“I like ‘Darby and Joan’ best,” affirmed Daisy; “it always makes me think of such nice, comfortable things. I do wish we knew her. I’m sure she must be nice; she’s got such a lovely voice.”
“Grandma would never let us go to see her,” said Dulcie, with conviction. “She says it isn’t proper to call on people she doesn’t know.”
“Perhaps it’s more interesting not to know her,” said cheerful Daisy. “It’s so exciting to make up stories about her. She must be rather poor to live away up on the top floor of that boarding-house. I wish we could see her in the street sometimes.”
“Maybe we do see her,” said Dulcie; “we haven’t any idea what she looks like. Now, hurry and get undressed, children. It’s pretty cold up here; I think the furnace must be very low.”
Daisy and Molly began unfastening their dresses, but Maud still remained with her ear glued to the wall.
“Come, Maud, don’t dawdle,” commanded Dulcie, a little impatiently.
“I’ll help you undress.”
“I want to listen to the singing lady,” objected Maud. “I love music.”
“You can listen in bed just as well, and if you stay up in this cold room, you may get another sore throat, and you wouldn’t like that, you know. My goodness! there’s the door-bell. Who can it be at this time of night?”
Evening visitors were not frequent at the Winslows’, and Molly was dispatched to peep over the banister.
“Perhaps it’s that minister who comes to see Aunt Kate,” said Dulcie, and this opinion was rather strengthened when Molly reported having heard a gentleman’s voice speaking to Mary.
Aunt Kate’s visitors were not interesting to the children, and they had almost forgotten the incident of the door-bell, when there came an unexpected tap at the nursery door.
“Children,” called Mary’s voice, rather breathless from the three long flights of stairs, “your grandma says you’re to come down right away Your uncle’s here.”
There was a simultaneous exclamation of astonishment from four very excited little girls.
“Our uncle! What uncle? Oh, Mary, do tell us quick.” And the door was flung open, revealing four children in various stages of undressing.
“His name is Maitland,” said Mary, “and he’s a youngish gentleman. I never saw him before.”
“It must be Uncle Stephen; Mamma’s brother from California,” said Dulcie. “I think he’s the only uncle we’ve got. Oh, isn’t it exciting? Hurry, children, do please hurry!”
“I can’t go down with my boots unbuttoned,” complained Daisy. “O dear! where’s the shoe buttoner? Fasten your dress, Molly, and take those curlers off Maud’s hair.”
“I’ll help you,” said Mary, good-naturedly. “I’m glad you’ve got an uncle to look after you. You’d better tell him a few things before he goes away again.”
“What sort of things?” inquired Daisy, innocently.
Mary laughed.
“Oh, I guess you know as well as I do,” she said, evasively. “If you don’t, so much the better.”
“Did our uncle ask for Grandma?” Dulcie wanted to know.
“Oh, yes, and she’s in the parlor with him now. So’s Miss Kate.”
Dulcie’s face fell.
“There isn’t much use in our going down, then,” she said, with a sigh. “Grandma won’t let us talk. She never does when there’s company.”
“Perhaps she will this time, because it’s our uncle,” said Daisy, who was always hoping pleasant things were going to happen. “Anyhow, it will be lovely to see somebody belonging to Mamma. I remember Papa told us about Uncle Stephen. He’s lived in California ever since he was twenty, and none of us has ever seen him. There! my boots are done. Now I can help Maud, if you’ll button Molly’s dress, Mary.”
Four little hearts were beating rather quickly, as the children hurried down-stairs to the parlor, from whence the sound of voices could be heard.
“Grandma’s talking in her ‘company voice,’” whispered Dulcie. “She must like Uncle Stephen or she wouldn’t sound so polite.”
Grandma and Aunt Kate were both smiling when the children entered the parlor, and their companion, a tall, broad-shouldered young man, rose from the sofa, and came forward to meet them.
“So these are Ethel’s little girls,” he said, and Grandma answered, still in her “company voice”:
“Yes, here they are, all four. Children, this is your Uncle Stephen from California.”
“I know,” said Dulcie, holding out her hand, with her most grown-up air; “Papa told us all about you. I think you were very kind to take the trouble to come to see us. I’m Dulcie, the eldest, and this is Daisy. Her real name is Margaret, after Grandma Maitland, but everybody calls her Daisy. These others are Molly and Maud. Molly’s named for
Mamma’s sister, who died, and Maud is just a name Mamma liked in a book.”
Dulcie paused, rather breathless from her long speech. The three younger children gazed at her in undisguised admiration. Under no combination of circumstances could any one of them have dared to make such a wonderful speech, and in Grandma’s presence, too. The visitor smiled, and they all thought he had a very pleasant smile indeed.
“Of course I wanted to come to see you,” he said in a voice that was as pleasant as his smile. And, instead of taking Dulcie’s outstretched hand, he bent and kissed her.
That broke the ice, for of course, all the others had to be kissed, too, and in a very few minutes Maud was perched on Uncle Stephen’s knee, and the other three were sitting beside him on the sofa. If Grandma and Aunt Kate were displeased with this state of affairs, they did not show it. Grandma continued to talk in her “company voice,” and Aunt Kate smiled as her needles flew.
Mr. Maitland explained that he had come east on a business trip, and was only spending a few days in New York.
“Indeed, I am starting back to California to-morrow night,” he said, “but I couldn’t leave without having a glimpse of Ethel’s children. Jim stopped to see me in San Francisco, on his way to Hong Kong, and I asked for your address, thinking I might be in this part of the world sometime.”
“Papa’s coming home next year,” ventured Maud, who suddenly felt very safe in Grandma’s presence, for was not Uncle Stephen’s kind arm around her, and had he not said that she had eyes like Mamma’s? “When he comes home we’re going to have a little house of our own, and perhaps Lizzie——”
Maud paused, admonished by a warning nudge from Dulcie. Grandma had forbidden the mention of Lizzie’s name.
“We had a letter from Papa last week,” put in Dulcie, quickly, hoping that Grandma had not noticed Maud’s slip. “He tells us such funny things about China. Does he ever write to you, Uncle Stephen?”
“Yes, occasionally. I heard from him about a month ago.”
“Did he tell you about the Chinese people eating rats and mice?” inquired Molly “We used to worry for fear Papa might have to eat them, but he says he doesn’t.”
Uncle Stephen laughed, and even Grandma and Aunt Kate looked amused, but just then Grandma gave the little warning cough, which always meant “children should be seen and not heard,” and Molly instantly relapsed into embarrassed silence.
Altogether, the call was a trifle disappointing. Aunt Kate talked about missions, but Uncle Stephen didn’t seem particularly interested in that subject, and in about twenty minutes he took out his watch, and remarked that he was afraid he must be going.
“I have an engagement with a business friend at nine,” he said, “but I want to see these little nieces of mine again before I leave New York. To-morrow is Saturday, and I expect to finish all my business by noon. My train doesn’t leave till half-past six. May I have these young people to spend the afternoon with me? I will promise to take good care of them.”
That was a tremendous moment. Would Grandma consent? That was the question that four little eager girls were asking themselves. Daisy ventured to give the old lady a pleading glance. Dulcie and Molly clasped their hands nervously. There was a moment of breathless suspense, and then, to everybody’s surprise, Grandma answered quite pleasantly:
“I am sure they would enjoy it very much, and I see no objection, if you really want to be troubled with them.”
“I want them very much,” said Uncle Stephen, with his kind, pleasant smile. “I will call for them at about noon, and we will lunch at the Fifth Avenue, where I am staying, and do something together in the afternoon. Now I must be off, as I see it is getting near the time for my appointment, so good-night, chicks. Be sure to be ready for me at twelve to-morrow.”
“I never believed she’d let us,” declared Daisy, when they were talking things over in the nursery, ten minutes later. “My heart just
stood still; I was so sure she was going to say no.”
“Perhaps she didn’t dare,” suggested Molly. “He’s our uncle, you know Oh, aren’t uncles lovely? I never had any idea they were so nice.”
“We didn’t know anything about them,” said Daisy. “We don’t know much about any relations except fathers. Now let’s hurry to bed, and get to sleep as quick as we can, so it won’t seem so long till tomorrow.”
CHAPTER III
A WONDERFUL DAY
“IT’S the most interesting thing that ever happened to us,” declared Molly. “It’s almost like a book thing.”
“It would be even more exciting if we had thought Uncle Stephen was dead,” said Dulcie, in a tone of some regret. “You remember how exciting it was in ‘Kathie’s Three Wishes,’ when her Uncle Robert came home rich, after everybody had thought he was dead for years and years. I wonder if Uncle Stephen is rich.”
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said Daisy. “He must have a good deal of money to be able to take us all to the Fifth Avenue Hotel to lunch. I wonder where he’ll take us afterwards. It might be to the Aquarium. Do you remember the time Papa took us there, Dulcie, and we saw those wonderful fish, and snakes, and things?”
Maud’s face clouded.
“I don’t like snakes,” she protested; “I hope Uncle Stephen won’t take us there. I dream about snakes sometimes, and it’s horrid.”
“Don’t be a baby,” began Molly, rather sharply, but Daisy interposed.
“I wouldn’t worry, Maudie, till we know where we really are going. Perhaps Uncle Stephen doesn’t intend to take us anywhere except to the hotel. We may just stay there all the afternoon, and watch the people. That would be very interesting.”
Dulcie glanced at herself in the mirror. It was only half-past eleven, but they were already dressed, because, as Daisy wisely remarked, “Uncle Stephen might happen to come ahead of time, and it wouldn’t be polite to keep a gentleman waiting.”
“I wish I hadn’t let my best hat get rained on that day,” remarked Dulcie, with a sigh. “It’s so spotted, I don’t think it’s at all the right
thing to wear to a hotel. If Papa were here, I know he would have bought me a new one, but Grandma doesn’t care how shabby our things are.”
“Oh, it isn’t so very spotty, and perhaps nobody will notice,” said Daisy, hopefully. “Don’t let’s think about anything that isn’t pleasant to-day. Isn’t it fortunate the sun has come out? If it had kept on raining, Grandma would have made us all wear our old clothes, and that would have been a great deal worse than just a few spots on one hat.”
“Yes, but it isn’t your hat,” objected Dulcie. “Yours looks almost as good as new, and Molly’s and Maud’s are all right, too.”
For a moment Daisy hesitated, and then, with sudden determination, she took off her own hat, and held it out to Dulcie.
“Let’s change,” she proposed cheerfully “You’re the eldest, and ought to look the best, and I really don’t mind a bit.”
Dulcie drew back, blushing.
“As if I would do anything so mean,” she declared, indignantly. “I believe you’re one of the most unselfish people in the world, Daisy It was all my own fault, anyhow. If I had taken an umbrella that day, as Grandma told me to, I wouldn’t have spoiled my hat. Now, suppose we go down and wait for Uncle Stephen on the sidewalk. It’s rather hot up here, with all our things on.”
This suggestion was greeted with favor, and a few minutes later the front door had closed behind four very happy little girls. Grandma and Aunt Kate were both out, so there was no one but Mary to see them start, but Mary happened to be in a good humor that morning, and greatly comforted Dulcie by the assurance that nobody would notice the spots on her hat, and that they all looked “just as nice as could be.”
“We’ll walk up and down,” said Dulcie; “it’s too cold to stand still, but we mustn’t go far, or we might miss Uncle Stephen. Oh, it is grand to be going somewhere, isn’t it?”
“Do you suppose there’ll be ice-cream for lunch?” inquired Maud, anxiously.
“Of course there will be,” said Molly “You can have anything you want at a hotel. You just pay a dollar, and they’ll bring you whatever you ask for. I know, because Papa took me to the Clarendon once, the time you all had the measles, and mine hadn’t come out yet.”
“Can you even ask for two helpings?” questioned Maud, with sparkling eyes.
“Yes, I guess so, but perhaps it wouldn’t be polite to take more than one. Uncle Stephen might think it was piggish.”
“Of course he would,” said Dulcie, who had grown suddenly grave; “it wouldn’t do at all. And that makes me think of something I want to say to you all. Give me your hand, Maud, so we can all walk together It’s about our loyalty to Grandma. You know what Papa used to tell us about always being loyal to our family, and never telling things that happen at home. We mustn’t let Uncle Stephen think we don’t have ice-cream, and nice things like that every day. We mustn’t mention Grandma’s being cross, or—or any disagreeable things at all. Will you all remember?”
“Yes,” promised Daisy, readily, but Molly looked a little doubtful.
“I don’t see why we should have to be so very particular with Uncle Stephen,” she objected; “he’s our real uncle, and Grandma’s only a step.”
“But we live with Grandma,” rebuked Dulcie. “Papa said it was very disloyal to talk about people we live with. Don’t look so solemn, Maudie. Of course, if Uncle Stephen or the waiter should ask us if we would like another helping of ice-cream, it would be all right to say yes.”
Maud’s face brightened.
“I sort of think Uncle Stephen will ask us,” she said. “He seemed so very kind, and I’m sure he likes me best, because he said I looked like Mamma. Let’s cross over. If the singing lady should happen to be at her window, she might like to see how nice we look.”
The others laughed, but complied with the request.
“There isn’t anybody at the windows,” said Molly, glancing up at the top floor of the boarding-house. “What makes you so much interested in that lady, Maud? She may not be a bit interesting.”
“I love to hear her sing,” said Maud, “and besides, I’ve got a secret,” she added, but in so low a tone that the others did not catch the words. At that moment there was an excited exclamation from Daisy, of “here he comes; he’s just turned the corner.” And everything else was forgotten in the joy of running to meet Uncle Stephen.
“Well, well,” laughed Mr. Maitland, kissing them all round, “so here you are, all four. No danger of being kept waiting, I see.”
“Oh, we wouldn’t do that,” protested Dulcie, quite shocked at the mere suggestion. “We got ready early, in case you should happen to come before twelve. Grandma and Aunt Kate have both gone out, so there isn’t any use of your going in to see them.”
“You are the people I want to see this time,” said Uncle Stephen, with a rather peculiar smile. “I came a little early on purpose, so as to have plenty of time for lunch. I have tickets for ‘The Pirates of Penzance’ this afternoon.”
“‘The Pirates of Penzance,’” repeated Dulcie, with a little gasp. “Why —why, that’s at a theatre, isn’t it?”
“To be sure it is, and a very charming little operetta it is, too. I hope you haven’t all seen it already.”
“Oh, no,” said Dulcie, “we never—that is, I mean we don’t often go to theatres. Daisy and I saw ‘Rip Van Winkle’ once with Papa. It’s very wonderful—I mean it’s very kind of you to take us.”
And despite all Dulcie’s attempts to maintain what she considered the proper demeanor of a grown-up young lady, she could not refrain from a little skip of delight.
As for the other three, they made no attempt whatever to conceal their delight, and began plying Uncle Stephen with a shower of questions about “The Pirates of Penzance,” which lasted till they reached the corner of Fifth Avenue, where he was obliged to
