Chapter Song: Curs in the Weeds - Horse Feathers
XX
"I'm glad you're awake," she says, and I can't help but stare at her pretty dark eyes that are too much the same shape as Jack's to be a coincidence. She shares his hair though it's touched by gray, the dimple in his right cheek when smiling, the curve of his nose. "I'm Red. How are you feeling?"
"Not all there."
"You just need more rest. I'm sorry about Jack, I told him not to bother you until you'd had a chance to actually sleep."
"How long have I been here?" I follow her hands as they slip along the IV tube, checking that the bag's drip rate. "And...who are you?"
I think for a moment that I could overpower her. With Jack gone, she is the only thing stopping me from leaving through that door. But then she slips her fingers over mine and squeezes, a gesture that is familiar and gut wrenching, that reminds me of the way my mother always knew just how tightly to hold my hand when I was upset. I watch her eyes drop to the red marks around my wrists. "I'm sorry about the ties," she sighs. "It was my decision; I was worried that you would bleed out."
How long has it been since I've seen another woman's face? She has a nice face, the kind of smile that is eternally youthful despite the few wrinkles gathering at the corners of her eyes. She's wearing heavy copper earrings shaped like the sun and moon, and when she leans closer they catch the wisps of sunlight filtering through the curtains.
"You're his mother, aren't you."
"Sorry, hon," she smiles.
"No," I flush. "It's just—" Does she hate me too? Am I a means to end to her, as I am with her son?
"You don't know who to trust yet, and that's okay. But you're tied to St. Croix now, and we take care of our own."
"Once I tell Jack about Paul..."
"You don't have to tell him anything, if you don't want to. Just stay here long enough to heal and promise me you won't go it alone for awhile."
"I want to leave." I bite my lip, and it's hard to look anywhere but her face when she's staring at me with that earnest expression. "I'm sorry. I'm grateful for what you've all done for me, for what Jack did...but I can't stay here."
"Why is that?"
"I don't belong here."
"You belong wherever you decide to, Layla. Maybe you can just belong here for a little while, until you get your strength back."
"I don't—"
"You're not a burden to us."
"That isn't true. Jack and the others were hurt because of me."
"You think they mind?"
"Probably."
"You don't know my son like I do." She's right, of course, and her smile softens a little as she looks me over. "He's been obsessed with finding Paul ever since Dom—" She swallows then, pulling her hand back into her lap. "He means well."
I remember that look on my dad's face after mom passed, the feverish way his eyes would flick away when her name was mentioned, as if searching for her somewhere beside him. "I'm sorry about your husband," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."
"Dom and I were raised before the packs formed. We always knew one of us could be gone at any minute. But Jack always thought his dad would be around to show him how to run the pack."
"How did you two meet?"
She looks up, a little startled, and the way she smiles tells me she didn't expect me to ask, or care. But it's nice to hear a woman's voice, to have a body so near mine that is relaxed and unthreatening in my presence.
Red pulls a blanket from a basket near the bed and spreads it across her lap, leaning back in her chair with a smile. "We met in college."
I sit up a little straighter. My dad never liked to talk about his life before the pack; sometimes, I forget that wolves ever had to navigate a life among humans. "You went to college?"
"The U of M Morris, actually. There was a cafe in the student center where I would study and eat lunch most days, and I would always see him there. I secretly wanted him to come talk to me, but he never did." She looks away, eyes seeming to follow the shape of the hills in the painting at the end of the room. "There was at TV by one wall that always had the news running, but one day there was an interruption to the normally scheduled broadcast. The announcer said that we weren't alone, that there were wolves among us who could disguise themselves as humans. By we of course, he wasn't referring to me. And as many times as he repeated in this slow, serious voice that this was really happening, people started to laugh. I don't blame them, really; they'd lived their whole lives believing the world worked in a way it really didn't. But then I saw Dom, and he really truly looked at me for the first time. He was the only other person in the cafe who wasn't laughing."
"I can't imagine...living among them."
"You don't remember a time before they hated us."
"Was it better then? To know you'd be safe as long as no one knew your secret."
She shrugs. "In some ways. It was living in a different kind of fear. But I grew up on the reservation, and native girls disappear just like wolf girls do."
"Oh." I think of the names carved into the wall, the little notches that Sam's hand had made. We have to take care of the living first. Sam is dead. He's dead and he won't come back, and the grief within me isn't going to go away. But some of those girls might still be alive. "I think I need your help."
"What with, hon?" She tries to look at me just right, not too intently, just enough softness. She's afraid I'll break. And suddenly beneath that gaze my tongue is heavy and impossible. "You can talk to me. I won't repeat anything unless you want me to."
"It's easier when I'm the only one who has to carry it."
"We all carry something, Layla. I was a woman alone once too, you know."
"You were?"
She hesitates and looks away, and I realize that it's hard for her to meet my eye. "My family, my community—they all knew I was a wolf. But we had fought so hard already to be seen as people, and I knew that if I let the reservation shelter me they'd never gain a footing with the rest of the country. So I didn't go back. Neither did Dom." Red draws in a breath, and when she looks at me I see a darkness in her eye that I've seen in Tasha, and in myself. "I got caught when I shifted once. I never made a mistake, I was always careful. But some hunters found me." She presses her knuckles to her knees. "They ruined my legs and left me on the side of the road. I thought I would die alone; it was rural country, and back then no good American dared to help a stranger for fear they were a wolf. They'd have been right," she laughed softly. "But you know, when I came to, I was laying on Dom's couch and he was playing guitar next to me. I hadn't seen him in several years, hadn't talked to him since college, and somehow he ended up at the right place at the right time. Fate's a strange thing, I guess."
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"I survived, Layla. I got to fall in love and have a child, I got to build a community. There's nothing to be sorry about anymore."
"How did you go on?"
"Just a little at a time. We're not made to recover quickly from things like this. We're meant to grieve and nurse our wounds." She reaches to brush some hair away from my cheek, and I start to cry. I don't mean to, but I realize in a way that leaves me breathless that's it's been too long since I received any kind of tenderness without dreading what would come next. "We're not meant to do it alone, either, you know."
"It's easier that way."
"Do you really think that's true? Or are you just afraid of what it means if it isn't?"
"I don't know."
"Don't you?" She leans back in her chair and clasps her hands in front of her. "What is it I can help you with, Layla?"
I draw in a breath and stare once again at the painting across from me. "Who did all of these paintings?"
Red is quiet, watching me thoughtfully before she smiles. "I did. This room is my office when it isn't an infirmary."
"Oh," I swallow. "Thank you for putting me up."
"Hon," Red begins.
"Back there, in Isaac's territory. There's a building in the woods where they kept girls before they...sold them. He'll probably destroy evidence of what he was doing, but there were names carved on the wall."
"Did he keep you there?" Her voice is gentle, but I know she's gathering evidence.
"No. Isaac offered me protection, at first. I didn't know him then, I didn't understand what was going on. And by the time I knew I needed to leave, I couldn't."
"And he hurt you?"
I nod, my mouth dry. "I'd like to know what happened to those girls. I'd like their families to know."
Red doesn't try to push, only nods. "I'll let the Elders know about the wall."
"And there's something else," I whisper. "There's a body somewhere on the property, a man about my age, with a gunshot wound..."
"Were you close?"
I nod, and Red doesn't try to smile.
"We'll lay him to rest here, if that's what you want."
I nod again, unable to speak.
"You should get some sleep, Layla. I'll come by later with dinner and we can eat together if you're awake."
"I'd like that," I manage. "And Red...thank you."
"Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"
She takes a moment to doublecheck my IV and adjust the blankets on my bed before offering a last smile. It's then that I notice the white cottonball taped on the inside of her elbow. There's a spot of red in the middle of it, and I flush when her fingers touch her arm, catching my stare.
"We take care of each other here, Layla. You're safe now."
I want to ask her just how long she's already spent by my side, to thank her for literally giving her blood for me, but then she's gone and the room is the kind of quiet that seems to press down on me. But I lie against the pillows and listen, and eventually the creak of the shutters in the wind seeps through the window, the sound of children laughing, a lawnmower buzzing in the distance. These are safe noises, as much as they contrast to the fear that still seems to grip me from the inside. Maybe, just maybe, there is something like safety here.
XX
Beep boop hey I'm still alive!