Season of the Wolf Pt. 01

Honey? I glance over the top of my menu and shoot a very meaningful glare at her. She's completely clueless to my scowl. It's obvious that I'm an outsider and the waitress immediately lists her recommendations of what I should eat for breakfast. Her Midwestern twang and the way she can turn a sentence into one very long word without pausing for breath sets my teeth on edge. I guess that's something I'll get used to, if I stick around for a while. Just to shut her up, I order something safe from the menu. After all, how can you possibly screw up pancakes with a side of bacon?

The food is set in front of me before I can bat an eye and I immediately dig in. Either I'm hungrier than I thought or the pancakes are unbelievably good. The syrup is warm and if I'm not mistaken is real maple syrup. The butter isn't cheap margarine, but actual butter and it's melting into a soft heap in the middle of a stack of pancakes as big as my head and so tall they're in danger of toppling over.

I'm automatically in a better mood after the first few bites. I consider asking the waitress, Diane, her nametag reads, some questions. Despite the patrons demanding refills on their coffee. She certainly seems chatty enough. I wonder what she can tell me about Mr. Galloway, distant cousin and attorney at law. What she knows about the Victorian manor and the land I've inherited. Does she know any of my family? Did she know my parents? She stops to top off my coffee mug and pins me with a stare. I didn't have to ask her a thing. Squinting at me over the rim of her bifocal glasses she says, "You're kin to the Galloway's aren't 'cha." It wasn't a question, but a matter of fact from the certainty etched on her expression. "I heard Han finally tracked down a relation."

Am I a Galloway? Well, I suppose I am. I nod and she smiles, big and wide. "Well, you sure as shootin' look like the lot of 'em. I can see your granddaddy and your daddy in ya' and your mama too," she says with an emphatic nod. "God rest their souls," she adds in a whisper and a glance up at the ceiling.

Before I can ask any of my questions Diane busies herself refilling my coffee and swiping my empty plate from in front of me. With a wink, she parks a second helping of pancakes beneath my nose. "Welcome home, then, Winona."

My fork pauses mid spear. Winona. Diane called me Winona. By the certainty of the gleam in her eye I can tell she knows exactly who I am or who I should have been. Is that my real name? Winona Galloway? I don't think it suits me. Winnie? Would that fit me better? No. I am Grace Klein. I can't afford to ever forget that.

The diner is a busy place. A table hardly has time to be wiped down. As soon as a seat opens up it is filled. Diane is definitely too busy to answer my questions in any depth. I'm tired and my full belly has lulled me into the beginnings of a very deep carbohydrate coma. Mr. Galloway, Han, she called him, isn't expecting me until tomorrow morning. I need to find a place to stay for the night. I suppose I could call him, if I had cell phone reception, and arrange to meet him a day early. But, am I that eager to learn the details of my past?

I pick at the pancakes and decide to stay put until the diner empties out and I can grill Diane for more information. She definitely knows Han and she knew my parents. I look like them. I try to envision my parents and what they might have looked like, what my grandfather looked like, and the kind of people they were. I can't imagine any other past than the one I know. What kind of a person would I have grown up to be if I had been raised here? The questions are dizzying. Other than the ever helpful Diane, I have no one to answer them.

Chapter 6

The air ripples with the nearness of her presence. I can feel her. She is close. The things I said to lure her here aren't untrue. But, they aren't exactly as transparent as they seem either. She is the only granddaughter of Nathaniel Galloway. This house and the land it sits on are hers. But, there are plenty of other details I've glossed over that are part of the legacy she has inherited.

Her mother was smart to hide her. But, she didn't hide her only daughter well enough. Nathaniel found her, but he found her too late. I made him a promise and it's one I intend to keep. I brought her home. I will be her guide and I will die to keep her safe, if that's what it takes.

Grace is expecting an attorney. The tie chafes my neck. I'm not exactly a business suit and tie kind of guy. But, if I'm going to pull this off and convince her to stay, I'll need to dress for the occasion. The truth is that I really am an attorney. Over the decades, I've been a great many things. I've done more than I care to admit to protect the secrets and people entrusted to my care. It's bred deep into the core of who I am. Being exactly who Grace needs me to be should be easy compared to some of the things I've been called upon to do.

The house has a feel to it today, an air of anticipation. I've taken painstakingly good care of the place. Everything is in order. Grace is expecting a quaint Victorian manor and that's what she'll get right down to the antique furniture in the parlor. The animals are quiet in a wary state of restlessness today. The energy in the woods, flowing between the land and the sky, is rippling with awareness. It's morning and the birds should be chattering, but they're still and silent in their nests. There isn't a whisper of wind rustling leaves in the trees. It's as if everything is holding a collective breath for the final pieces to fall into place and it's up to me to make sure that they do.

I study Grace's picture. Just the very sight of her calms some part of me buried too deeply to unearth. I won't mistake her for anyone else. She is unique and in her features I see glimpses of the family she's never known. With my sandy brown hair ran though with traces of gingery red and deep auburn and my hazel eyes, I don't resemble her branch of the family tree.

My skin is tanned golden brown. Not the kind of tan inherited but the kind hard earned from hours of working the land. I've got no stomach for details and paperwork, but sometimes necessity determines the course a man will take. I'm most at peace outside working with my hands. I like the sweat and the heat of the sun on my back. The ache in my muscles is my reward for a job well done. Today, I'll be an attorney for her and I'll begin what will be a rocky introduction into the truth of her world.

I shake off my own restless anxiety and lose the tie. The thing is too much like a noose around my neck. Grace will have to take me as I am. Sure, I'm groomed and well dressed, but beneath the glossy veneer prowls a restless beast. I practice my smile in the bathroom mirror. I'm passable. I need to be more than just a pretty face to accomplish my goals. I'll need to pour on the charm if I'm going to capture her attention and keep it within my grasp.

I need her. We need her. I told her over the phone that she could decide her true name. But, the truth of it is. Destiny decided it for her long before she was born. The nearness of her rouses my need to protect and destroy anything that would ever harm her. Grace won't understand. But, what her mind fails to grasp her spirit will. What she is flows within her veins and there is no escaping it. She is comfortable with the outside world and knows nothing about the more clandestine parts of it that exist unseen beside a world too busy and careless to notice.

Her mother didn't want this for her. In so many ways her father and grandfather didn't want this legacy passed down from generation to generation for her either. But, they realized what her mother did not. Fate is a wheel that can't be stopped from spinning and there is no other choice for any of us.

Grace's importance is more critical than she can begin to comprehend. There are so few of us left. What was once a thriving community of several hundred has been whittled down by time and circumstance to far too few. Technology threatens us. Humanity creeps closer and closer to our borders like a noxious vine that simply can't be stopped. We could branch out and become the vine. But, what kind of a world would that be?

Everything created by nature has its place. Every good thing comes at a cost. The price our fathers paid was high. The sons and daughters have been paying it and enduring the burden of such costly gifts for centuries. For some the payment is simply too high and they flee to the sanctuary of the outside world. For others, there is no other choice but to stay rooted to the spot. I am faithful to the sacrifices my ancestors made to get us to this point. For all it is and is not, this life is the only one I've ever known.

I'm laid back by nature. I enjoy keeping the peace and want things on an even keel. The life I've ended up with isn't exactly the one I wanted. Destiny plotted a different course for me, just as it has for Grace. What I prefer doesn't really matter. There is what is and nothing else.

Nathaniel was my best friend, my mentor, and in so many ways, a father to me. It is duty that holds me to this place and to her. I love her because I loved him. I failed him. I saw the threat too late, but not Nathaniel. He knew what was coming. He tried to prepare me. But, I simply couldn't or wouldn't listen. I fought the future and my destiny and in the end I cost him his life.

The old give way to the young, the father to the son. That's just how it goes in this world of mine. No one expected Nathaniel to fall so easily. The challenger came out of nowhere, like a storm that suddenly hits land. I should have seen what was to come, but I didn't. I failed to protect Nathaniel. But, I did protect Grace. With body, blood, tooth, and bone I preserved that which was rightfully hers and now it's time for her to finally claim it.

Nathaniel dedicated the last two decades of his life to finding her, the Winona, first daughter. This place, these people, and the land are hers. I have bled to protect it. I envision a woman as noble and proud as her birthright. But, she has been out there among humanity her entire life. She doesn't know what she has truly inherited. If Nathaniel hadn't found her, she would have never known. In so many ways, I regret that most of all. That I'm tasked with the duty of stripping her of her humanity and everything she's ever known and bringing her home to the reality of what she considers fiction.

It's bred into my very nature to protect her. Not because I consider females weak. But, because they're as rare and valued as the children they bear. No woman who willingly gives her body for the next generation is weak or timid. There are so few of us because so few women conceive. Out of the brave females that do, few survive the task.

That is the highest price we pay for the gift we have been given. We're helpless against it. We watch our little girls blossom into women and chose a mate. We hold our breath as the child begins to stir in her womb. And more often than not, we mourn and bury our dead. Grief is more common to us than happiness. I'm a bastard for dragging Grace into this world and the part she'll need to play in it.

I've spent hours staring at Grace's picture. Coyote, the best tracker of us all, did his job well. The snapshot I hold in my hand is a candid shot of Grace sipping coffee on her balcony. California must be a beautiful place. I can see her love of the sand and the heat and the ocean written in her expression. I also see the faces of the dead in her features. Her grandfather died to protect her. Her mother died to hide her. Her father died to secure her future. I can only hope Grace's heart is a pure and strong as her blood. She'll need both to make her way in this world.

The gift is in me, a part of my very soul. My blood may not be as pure, but my heart pumps just as strongly. Like most of us, I straddle both worlds with a foot in each. Just like my father before me and his father before him, for generations back to the very first one of us. We were born to guard the secret, bound to it with our blood, bodies, and souls and far too many of us have died to protect it.

I think I look pretty good for a man as old as fuck. That's one of the perks of living this life of mine. I know the history of this house so well because I helped to build it. Nathaniel and I crafted the first beams and hung the family name over the lentil. My mother died in the childbed and my father went the way of the wolf after her death. Nathaniel could have chosen to go the way of the wolf after his wife died bringing their son into the world. Just as his son did after Grace and her mother were lost. But, Nathaniel chose life for me and for Grace and for the destiny the two of us were born to share.

My entire life I've imagined her curves, her scent, the sound of her voice, and the way her soft skin would feel beneath my fingertips. Even though I've never seen Grace in person and until six weeks ago the reality of her face only existed in my imagination. She has been the object of my every masculine desire. I knew long before her father was born that she would come and that she was meant for me. If she had been raised in our world, she would know it too.

Another unfortunate truth of my world is the brass ring Grace represents to me. We only get one chance at finding the other half of our soul. She is my one chance. My heart and soul and the reason I've had such stamina for this long life. She is the only woman I will ever know. All that I am rests in the palm of her hand. She can't deny me when I've denied myself for her so very long. I'll find a way to make sure of it.

The suit coat is made of wool. It's stifling and confining. I can't stand the feel of it weighing me down. I strip the thing off and abandon it at the foot of the bed. In the light broadcloth button down and my sleeves rolled up I can breathe again. I look more like myself and less like an attorney now. The black dress slacks are tailor cut to fit my long legs. I hate the itchy starchiness of the material. I'd rather be dressed in my familiar worn out blue jeans. But, I have to resemble someone more official. Someone educated and that looks more like an attorney than a farm hand. Otherwise, she'll never believe it despite my credentials.

I've got every I dotted and T crossed. The papers are legal as it gets. This place is hers lock, stock, and barrel. She knows nothing about the house or the land or what it takes to care for the fields and livestock. I've lived on this land and worked the farm since before I could toddle. I know every rock, every tree, and everything there is to know about it. I'll have my work cut out for me to prove that I'm as vital to her as she is to me. I'll teach her anything she wishes to learn and plenty that she does not. Neither one of us have any choice in the matter. I wouldn't choose another path even if I could. Destiny has plotted this course out for me and I'll see it through to the very end.

Her nearness stirs the wolf inside of me and he paces in my mind. He'll have to wait as I have, just a little while longer. The prey knows when it's being hunted. But, she's not prey. We are and she's the most dangerous predator out there. She just doesn't know it yet. The part of her that has been dormant is on the verge of awakening. I regret that and wonder if I should have simply left her alone. Let her live a normal, ordinary, human life. But, it's too late for that now. I've already opened the door and she has taken her first step inside.

I pick up the keys and debate whether to take the truck or my Harley. The truck would be more believable, more like a vehicle an attorney would drive. But, my beast needs soothing and nothing eases it like the wind in my face and the scenery flying past. It's as close to running in my wolf skin as I can get and still maintain my human form.

Every wolf instinctively has the cunning it takes to hunt. She will be my most difficult pursuit yet. It'll take more than instinct to win her. I'll need to be patient and persistent. Stealthily track my prey and not get captured in the process. But, it's too late to avoid captivity. She already owns me.

I grab up the file and tuck it under my arm. I let just my wolf off the chain, just a little, to calm his raw savagery. For her, I need to be human. She can't accept me any other way. In time, she will know all the beauty and terror her new world has to offer. But, I'll be there for her to ease her fears and show her how to embrace the magic of her true self. Together, we will fulfill the roles we must play and usher in the season of the wolf.

Chapter 7

I've been picking at my second helping of pancakes for the last thirty minutes. Diane keeps my coffee cup full to the top, but she rushes away before I can think of the first question to ask. There are just so many answers that I need to know. My best approach would be to stay parked on my ass at the counter and wait till the breakfast rush is finally over and I stand a better chance of getting her all to myself. That really isn't a hard task, staying put, since I've got no clue of where I'm going.

The pancakes weigh me down. If not for Diane's endless supply of caffeine, I'd probably fall asleep where I am. I play with my phone as if by doing so I can somehow magically conjure up reception. Christine is most likely frantic by now. It has been over twenty-four hours since she has heard from me. I have to admit I feel a bit like I've fallen off the ends of the earth and landed in the twilight zone myself.

I should get off my ass and find a payphone. Surely, even remote as this place is there's a payphone somewhere. I could beg Mr. Galloway to see me a day early. Otherwise, I'm going to have to figure out someplace to crash for the night. I don't know where that would be but I can bet I'd have to drive a good distance to find it. After driving all day and all night to get here the thought of climbing behind the wheel again leaves me positively exhausted.

My god, I still can't believe I own a home and that maybe, if I can find a payphone and contact Mr. Galloway and ply to his sympathies. I could be spending the night in my house. My house. He has gone to no small lengths to ensure me that everything is in order. The idea of sleeping in a bed that someone else has slept in kind of gives me the creeps. I suppose it's no worse than staying in a hotel and sleeping in a bed hundreds or possibly thousands of other people have slept in. I'm not concerned about cooties or anything like that. Well, maybe I am a little. I mean my grandfather slept in the bed, sat on the couch or lounged in an easy chair. His thumbprint is on everything I've inherited.

I've got to approach this with an open mind. It's just a house, furniture, and whatever else he left behind. Objectively, I know it's no different than moving into a new apartment. Most of my stuff was bought second hand and that didn't bother me. There's no reason why this should either. Everybody leaves some lingering imprint behind. I'm certain even though I searched every nook and cranny of my room before I taped the last box shut. I've forgotten something in the move. This is different though. He is dead and I'm not.

Hopefully, seeing the place and signing the papers will help to allay the lingering disbelief that I have that a Victorian manor and acres of land are really mine. Sure, it'll be awkward at first. Not knowing anybody. Though from the stares I've gotten in the diner, plenty of people know me.

I'm used to having a ten by ten room, sharing a bathroom, and fighting over rights to the remote. I'll have four bedrooms, a full kitchen, an attic, a basement, two bathrooms, a formal dining room, a real honest to god study, and a living room all to myself.