Just an Old Legend Ch. 08

"Maybe this will be funny idea to you, but for many years, I prayed to God for help and answers. I stopped asking for answers. I prayed that I could be dead. I was taught that it is wrong to kill yourself. I didn't know what to do. When I decided, you took the gun away. And still I prayed."

He stopped to sip his coffee, "I heard only the pain in my voice and the wind. I felt no love that God has for his creatures. I felt only rain and snow, maybe because I am not God's creature anymore. I am only my own. I save my breath now and do not ask God for anything anymore. He has gone away, or he has no time to hear me."

Ion smiled, "And anyway, if I am evil, what kind of hell can he send me to that is worse than the one where I have been for over seventy years? Hot and tormented by insects in the summer and I had to see people like I once was laughing together. Cold and with no clothes in the winter, only the fur that I have when I change, and always alone and cursing the day that I thought of coming here to make a better life. What life have I had? Now I have to wonder if God answered me when Elena came to my prison. I do not know this either, but I know that I am happy every day since she came."

He looked again at where Stan's crucifix lay hidden under his shirt, "Believe what you want to, Mr. Beamish. I think if I was really evil, I might bite you to show you how little that thing is worth when you really need it. But that would be cruel, I think you say. And anyway, if you lived through the change, you would only hate me for it. I have had enough trouble in my life. So, you should decide now, please. If you want to hear my story and write a book with my beautiful Elena, I will tell you anything that I can answer. If not, please excuse me. I have work to do for her."

Stan looked at Ion, "Are you angry with me for taking the gun when you needed it?"

Ion smiled genuinely and shook his head, "This was not your fault. You didn't know any of this. How could I be angry? I was only angry that it was gone then. I think that maybe I am not so evil because I didn't think it was right to hurt you to get the gun and so I let you go that day. And now it was you who brought Elena to me. I cannot be angry now, can I? I should be thanking you, I think."

Beamish smiled at them both, "Well, either this is one hell of a hoax, or it's a real fairy tale come true. I sure as hell don't know what to think. But I do think you're both quite remarkable. I'd be happy to work with you on this, Helen, as long as it won't open up a long-dead murder case. John, please start at the top, wherever you want to begin." He pulled a notepad out of his battered old briefcase and rolled up his sleeves.

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Stan held up his hand, "No, Helen. I'm about as full of coffee now as my stomach, bladder, and blood pressure will allow. Thanks but no more," he smiled. Turning back to Ion he said, "There are a few things about the whole werewolf thing that bother me in a few ways. I'm trying to understand, I guess. How is it that you can change at will? Are you in control of this at all times?"

Ion smiled, "Please remember that I had no teacher for this, but I can tell about what I know. When I first changed, it felt to me like my body was on fire, so much pain. And then the things about my body began to change." He looked at Helen, "Can you help to explain it, please?"

She looked like an impatient schoolteacher, "You should really explain it, because you need to work your English if you want to get better, but ok, jump in if I get anything wrong then." She looked at Stan, "His English is getting so much better, but sometimes he still has trouble with finer details, and the level of his mastery changes, depending on stress, or the level of complexity, I'm finding. I'm trying to help him. I don't mind it at all - I even like it, and I'm sure you don't care, but he wants to lose his accent if he can. It's a goal that he's set for himself."

"Anyway," she said, "from my own observation of him, he's in complete and total control of his shape at any given moment. He can change at will, back and forth. It doesn't seem to bother him now. But I think what he was trying to say was that if you think about it, it's not at all like a bluebird suddenly becoming a red one. Think about what has to happen on a physiological level to his body. Bones have to change shape and size, and while that's going on, his tendons, muscles and organs have to follow and not be torn apart. I mean look, just consider what has to be happening to his teeth alone as one example. None of this is possible, I'm positive, from any scientific view that we know about. But he can do it with ease. The first change must have been agony, as he's said. And he changed and lived through that, but he didn't know that he could have control, right?"

Ion nodded, "This came later, that I found how I could change by wanting it. I think that some of this is that my body can decide what it needs to stay alive. I feel that I must hunt sometimes. If I try to starve myself, I will get weak, just as any man. But instead of dying, I will change to wolf and hunt until I have something to eat. When I have some strength again, then I have control back. It is hard to explain this." His eyes opened wide at a sudden thought and he sat back for a minute. Helen was about to ask, but he held up his hand for her to wait.

He laughed a little, "I was thinking about how my body decides sometimes what it needs. I was thinking about how you found that I am not only wolf that night. How many winters have I had only small place to sleep in? I could not change in some of them - there is no room for this. But I was asleep over there that night on floor, and I change in front of you!"

Helen held his hand, "Maybe you're right." To Stan, she said, "There was a storm that night, and I got him to come inside. He didn't want to, but I was about to haul him in by the ears if I had to. He fell asleep on the floor by the stove, and I saw him change his shape for the first time. That might end up a part of the story in the book, I haven't decided, but that's what happened."

Stan nodded, and scribbled some notes, but suddenly looked up, "What part does the phase of the moon play in this?"

Ion laughed, "What do I need the moon for? Do you know if the moon is full now or not?"

Beamish reached into his pants pocket, "I don't know. I'll turn on my GPS and find out, I guess. I always carry this around with me. I've found it so useful in my business, and when I go hunting or fishing." He looked at the screen and watched as the instrument began to acquire signals from first one satellite and then another. "Ah," he said, as he found the function that he was looking for, "it's full."

He looked up and found Ion and Helen smiling at him, "What?"

Helen pointed out the window, "It's one of those days that," she made quotation marks in the air, "the 'werewolf legends' don't take into account. The moon is full whenever it's reflecting sunlight. The time of day plays no part, does it?"

Stan looked past her and saw the faint full moon there in the early afternoon sky.

"The legends say that a werewolf will change shape when the moon is full and the creature has no say in the matter," Helen smiled, "but he's looking right at it now, and he's still a man. You already know how he feels about religious symbols. So much for legends. I've got some garlic cloves hanging up right over there. Want to watch him eat some? I'm sure he would, but I sure won't kiss him for a while after that."

Beamish laughed, "I guess there's a BS factor to any set of legends. I've read that in Denmark they thought they could cure werewolves by scolding them."

Helen smirked, "Well that's another one that doesn't work. I can tell you that right now. I've personally noticed some subtle differences between his shapes that might be of interest," Helen said, "He has full control over his will in any shape, except for what he's said. There are small basic common physical factors that carry across the range of shapes. The color of his eyes stay basically the same, but the more wolf-like he gets, the brighter the intensity. The closer he is to the wolf, the more feral he gets, but still with control of his will. Higher logic functions are slightly impeded, and he then lacks the physiological ability to speak because he can't form the words."

"He's only recently discovered the ability to speak in the wolfman form, but it seems to be because up to the time that we met, he never had a reason to try. The physical structure of his mouth then is more wolflike than human, but he can speak like that, and he's getting better at it. I'm as big a pain in the ass to him then as now, because I encourage him to improve, just like I try to help him with his English," she smiled a bit ruefully.

Ion chuckled, "I don't mind when she helps me. No one ever wanted to help me before. They only shoot at me or run from me. When I am a man, I can make things, I can build something. As wolfman, my hands are not, ..." he looked at Helen.

"Suited,"

"Ah," Ion smiled, "thank you again. My hands are not suited for it. But as example, Elena once said to me that she wanted to clean little beach sometime. I was wolf then. When she was gone, I did this for her. As man, I used my old saw, but to break branches, and lift tree, I was wolfman."

"That's another thing that I should point out," Helen said, "I think that before he was bitten by Danaya he was a pretty strong guy, probably at the peak of his strength. But now, in any of his shapes, he has incredible physical strength, speed, and agility. That tree that he mentioned was half-buried in silt and sand. He broke off what he could, he told me, and then just ripped it out of there and threw it to block the inlet to the cove because I'd mentioned an idle wish that nobody could sail in there when I might be sunbathing, because that was kind of a nice thought to me. I thought I was just driveling on about my little passing fantasy to my friend the huge wolf. I had no idea that he could understand what I was prattling on about. And he did that for me. Stan, I think it would have taken a small crew of men and a winch to do that."

She indicated the building around them with a sweeping gesture, "I know that you've made improvements over the years to help rent the place, but he built almost all of this alone. He only had help - that he had to pay somebody for - to get the main beam up for the roof and a few others. For everything else, he found ways to rig things so that he could do it alone because he had so little money. So before he was bitten, he was a pretty smart cookie, I'm thinking, and strong as an ox. He says that he is only a little different physically from before, but I'm telling you, if I need a mountain moved, he'd do it somehow, I have no doubt of it."

She smiled, "We play a little game sometimes. I pull out a quarter, and toss it up. Whatever I call, heads or tails, he snaps out his hand at the right instant and grabs it to show me. The side that I call is always the one against his palm, no matter how fast I try to make it flip in the air."

The afternoon was full of revelations for Stan, but he called a bit of a halt so that he and Helen could get down to some kind of framework for what they wanted to do with the book. Ion announced that he'd had enough of a break and wanted to get back to the gardens for Helen. Stan watched him for a minute as he worked, "He seems to be very devoted to you, Helen. That's pretty obvious to me, and you both seem happy."

"It's still early days, Stan. I've got to be fair about it. But yes, we are pretty happy. There are bumps in the road - a lot of them, but we try very hard. I have my own reasons for that. I'm not going to elaborate, but in certain very real ways we're saving each other. It's not anything like his story, but I've had to fight my own demons. And I'm just as devoted to him. That's the real reason that I want to write this with you. I don't want him to attract attention to himself, but I want for him to have some kind of real life now with me. You couldn't have known that the man who built this was still alive, but he's had to watch as his life and dreams were either torn from him or just taken away. His wife, and the horror of all of that, his own life ruined, and then the way that he's had to hide and watch as what he built with his hands was taken and sold off. He understands all of that, and he still doesn't hate anybody."

"Now he still doesn't even own what he built. I do. But I want for him to have some kind of benefit from this. If we're successful, I'll use the proceeds from what I make to set something up for him so that he has some income from it. It's even harder than I make it sound, because we live in an age where you have to have an identity to take part in anything, right? I don't know how to get him one, either. Whatever pride he once had was smashed, but I see that he needs to have something to be proud of besides the woman he loves. He knew that I brought the gun back. The first night, it was all I could do to keep him from using it on himself. Once he saw that I knew what he was, he ran out in the rain, but then remembered that his way out was here. He wanted to come back and end it for himself. I don't know how I managed it, but I went after him. I found him weeping out there at the edge of the woods. As big as he gets when he's the wolfman, he was standing out there in the lightning and teeming cold rain, crying his eyes out when I found him. He didn't know I was there, and I startled him. He just reacted and he almost killed me by accident. His body took over, but he stopped himself just in time."

She looked out at Ion as he worked, "Did you know that a wolf can actually cry? I don't mean howl, I mean cry. Can you imagine how that sounds from something like him? It's actually not very loud, but it's the purest, most soul-wrenching sound of hopelessness and forlorn sadness that I've ever heard in my life, Stan, and I'm certain that it wasn't the first time since he's had to live this nightmare that he's cried."

Helen wiped her eyes, and Stan was surprised at how they now blazed with her conviction, "He doesn't know this, but I made a promise to him one night as I watched him sleep. I promised him that I would do anything that I could to prevent him from ever doing that if I could manage it. I don't ever want to hear that sound again. It hurts me too much to hear it."

She came back to herself and smiled a bit self-consciously, "But first things first. I need to move my things here, and I'm encouraging him to farm again at least to feed us. A man like him needs to feel like he's contributing in a real way. It started as just objections on his part about me paying for things, but we've had real fights over it. He's the mysterious farmer, by the way. And before I move, I need to buy a better boat, so that's where I'll start tomorrow."

Stan Beamish thought for a second, "I can help with that part, Helen. I know of a boat that I think you'd find useful. Let me make a call when I get into the office tomorrow, and I'll give you a call when I know for sure. I might even be able to help with that identity thing, but that'll take a little longer."

"Thank you, Stan, but why do you want to help, not that I'm questioning your kindness or anything."

He shrugged with a smile, "Because this isn't about writing a story anymore, is it? I do want to do that now, but I'm seeing a person who has lost so much and caused none of his own misfortunes. I like a happy ending as much as anyone, but my God, what he's had to deal with and overcome. It boggles the mind, but I'm certain of a couple of things here. It's impossible - what has happened to him. It's just as impossible that he could be what he is, who he is - everything. And yet he plainly is what we see, isn't he? We can't both be sharing a common delusion. I don't know what all I can do to help, but I want to try."

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Helen stared as she stood with Stan at the marina. She didn't think she'd ever seen a boat such as what she was looking at now, "It's beautiful, Stan. What is it?"

"It's an old man's dream," he said softly, "I've had her for years, but I'm getting to a point where I think she needs to be in younger hands. She's a Chriscraft, built not long after the war ended. She's thirty feet of class, Helen. Her engine is the third one that I've put into her. It lives in that doghouse there. She's real mahogany, front to back. Come on, let's take a ride, shall we?"

He got her seated and he hooked up the battery before she pressed the bright chrome button which caused the engine to crank and start. They slipped off the lines, and Stan pulled the bumpers inside. Helen eased the drive into forward, and they motored out sedately. "One thing to be aware of," he said, "you can forget about any huge economy from this. She was built in the days of cheap gasoline, and that's a converted car engine back there, a police interceptor V8. The tank holds well over a hundred gallons. But I think it would suit your needs nicely."

Helen found herself grinning in spite of herself. "Is she fast?"

"Fast enough," he said, "she's no slouch there, but I don't think you really crave speed, do you?"

Helen shook her head, "No, I was just asking, that's all.'

"The engine is far more that the little eighty horse one that it came with from the factory. You'll find that, beyond about two-thirds throttle, she won't go much faster at all, she'll just make more noise and burn more gas. The hull wasn't designed for speeds over that. But you can haul a load with her, and there's seating for, I dunno, eight people if you want to entertain. That thing behind us is the top. It can be put up even in a stiff wind, but then you need to put up the outer windshield too, if you want to operate in bad weather. I'll show you how later. I have a section of rear cover folded in the stowage compartment. You can close her up completely if you need to get to town on a crummy day. You won't be as limited as you are with the aluminum one that I threw into the sale of the island."

She grinned, "I feel like an old-time movie starlet here."

Stan nodded, "That's the kind of feeling that she was made to inspire."

He told her about all of the features, and she saw how he'd prided himself by keeping it up over the years. Helen mentally prepared herself for a huge price, but when he mentioned it, she pulled the throttle back to idle.

The wind of their motion dropped off, and she stared, "How much?"

"If you'll promise me that you'll do your best to keep her up, I'll sell her for two thousand, Helen, but only to you. I could get a hell of a lot more for her any day of the week, easily twenty times that and more. But there's more to having something like this than meets the eye, as you know. She'll need more than that every year, even if you don't have her put into the water. I just have trouble with the idea of some rich fool driving her around. I'd rather see you have her."

He reached into the pocket of his shirt, "You cause me to break more laws than I'd ever have imagined, my girl. Here. Call that number when you get a chance. The man's name is Benny. He might be able to help with Ion's identity problem. If it goes badly, or if Ion ever gets caught with it, I don't know you or him. But I think he can help, and I've never heard of any of his ID jobs going sour before, but if this works, Ion will have to be an upstanding citizen, right? He'll have to pay taxes just like the rest of us, God help him."

Helen threw her arms around the old realtor, "Thanks so much for this, Stan."

Two hours later, Helen pulled up to the dock with her new boat, and tied up carefully, before she hauled on the painter line to bring the old fishing boat to the other side of the dock. She was about to climb the steps when she saw Ion there at the top.