CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Guilt sat like a rock at the bottom of my belly as I watched Derek leave – continuously peeking over the top of the book I was reading (if one counted staring blankly at the same paragraph for the past ten minutes reading) until he had disappeared into the thick of the forest.
When I was certain he was really gone, I set the book down and hurried into the cabin.
Rummaging through the cupboards until I found a small Tupperware container I was certain Derek would never miss, I carefully packaged two of the chocolate chip muffins I had made for breakfast into the rectangular piece of plastic-ware.
The muffins had turned out a little on the dense side and were somewhat burnt on the bottom, but I figured that the extra sugar I had sprinkled on top of them made up for it.
You’re not doing anything wrong, I reminded myself as I made sure the container was sealed. You’re just… helping.
Meddling, more like, another voice argued – it sounded suspiciously like Derek – but I batted it away.
Once the muffins were packed, I rifled through the mess of papers Derek kept in a filing cabinet in the corner of the dining room. They were mostly bank statements, along with some receipts and tax documents – being a shifter didn’t exempt you from being under the government’s thumb, after all – until I found a spare scrap of paper.
I smoothed out the piece of paper on the dining room table, staring at it for a solid minute as I fiddled with a pen. My mind was as blank as the paper, all the things I had planned on writing floating right out of my head.
I licked my lips before carefully penning a name.
Abram
I stared at it.
It was such a… normal name. (But then again, so was Derek.)
I wondered what the man it belonged to was like – if he was as tall and heavily muscled as Derek, if his hair was dark or light-colored, if it was turning gray around the edges already – he had to have been pushing fifty, at least, if he was close in age to Derek’s father.
I also wondered if he was as feral as Derek seemed to think. If he was as sad and lost – like an abandoned buoy, drifting aimlessly in the ocean – as I suspected Derek had been before I’d shown up.
Like he still was in some ways.
I chewed anxiously on the inside of my cheek. I wanted so badly to help them repair their relationship.
I didn't know if they were close before the fire, but Derek had made it sound like their families had certainly been, and that was just it. They – each other – were all they had left of their families.
I remembered the expression on Derek’s face when he’d claimed that Abram blamed him for what had happened, and I couldn’t imagine Abram’s anguish at losing his wife and child.
But I suspected they could help each other heal in a way that no one else could. They ought to reconcile at the very least.
They’ve had nearly two decades to reach out to each other if they really wanted, a nagging voice pointed out. Maybe you ought to leave well enough alone.
But I couldn’t.
Because maybe they just needed a catalyst – a reason – to seek each other out, to start talking. And I was all too willing to be that catalyst.
I turned my attention back to the paper.
Keep it simple, I reminded myself.
Right.
I had debated for a while if I should write the note as Derek or myself, but in the end, it had just felt too… manipulative to pretend to be Derek. I pressed my lips together, pressing pen to paper.
Thanks for not eating me. I thought you might enjoy these instead.
There.
Friendly, but not pushy. It left room for a response, but didn’t require one.
I didn’t bother signing the note. It’s not like Abram knew my name, and besides, I didn't think he ran across a lot of people who begged him not to eat them while he was in his shifter form. (Then again…) I was confident that if he found the note he would know who it was from.
I taped the piece of paper to the container of muffins.
Now, to deliver the goods. Scooping up the package, I turned to leave the cabin.
And nearly suffered a massive heart attack at the sight of a figure standing in the open doorway.
“Thane!” I admonished when my heart had finally left my throat and sunk back down into my chest where it belonged. “You scared me.”
He didn’t seem very apologetic; he was too busy eyeing the container in my hands suspiciously. He trotted towards me and nosed at it as if asking what it was.
“This?” I responded. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just… well, I’m…” I trailed off, feeling silly for attempting to explain myself to a dog, but feeling as if I had to nonetheless. “It’s a favor for Derek,” I finally decided on.
Thane seemed satisfied with that explanation, plodding along after me as I headed outside. When I started for the forest, though, instead of walking towards the coop or sitting on the porch swing, he began barking loudly, going so far as to jump in front of me, almost like he was… scolding me for trying to leave.
I put my hands on my hips. “Really, boy? You too?” I squatted over to pet him, resting on my haunches as I allowed my fingers to card through his coarse fur. “You’re just like him, you know – Derek. I think he must have seen himself in you when he took you in.” I sighed. “Look, I’m not running off again or anything, okay? I just need to deliver this package.” I held up the muffins. “No need to be so protective. You can even come with me if you want, okay?”
That seemed to placate Thane, and he yipped excitedly before making a beeline towards the trees. I laughed, then followed him. It was for the best, anyway. Derek would have been furious if he ever found out I was traipsing about the woods alone, especially with my ankle not fully healed yet.
He may still be furious if he finds out you’ve been trying to communicate with Abram, a voice pointed out.
Biting my lip and feverishly hoping that wasn’t true – I also hoped I didn’t run into the man as he was out checking his traps – I hurried as fast as my ankle allowed towards the river.
Derek had said Abram owned land on the other side of it. I didn't know how much land, but it was reasonable to assume that the grassy patch of shore I’d stumbled onto when I’d clumsily crossed the river two nights ago was a part of his territory.
Following the river like I had that night, I kept an eye out for the stepping-stone-like rocks I’d used to transverse the river then.
The forest was much less frightening in the light of day, with the sun filtering in through the leaves and the gentle babble of the river playing a soothing melody in my ears. I spotted chipmunks and squirrels scurrying up trees as I walked, and I even saw a large doe drinking from the river before she heard Thane bounding through the underbrush and scampered away.
It was… peaceful, and in seemingly no time at all, I had arrived.
The rocks in the river were exactly as I remembered them, and I knew that I was in the right spot. I’d learned my lesson the first time I had tried to use the rocks as stepping stones, though, so hiking up my shorts until they more closely resembled underwear, I began to wade across the river.
Or, I tried to, anyway.
Thane whined at me, catching the bottom of my shirt with his teeth in an effort to stop me from crossing the water.
“Stop that,” I scolded, pulling my shirt out of his mouth. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”
Thane whimpered loudly, but he didn’t nip at me again. Instead, he paced back and forth anxiously as I crossed the river, though he refused to get into the water himself.
He barked loudly when I finally cleared the water, as if telling me to hurry.
It wasn’t a bad idea.
I didn’t want Abram – the man or the bear – to spot me trespassing on his territory, so quickly approaching the tree I’d attempted to hide at the bottom of two nights ago, I placed the little container of muffins and accompanying note at the base of its trunk.
I stood, examining its placement, trying to tell if it would be easy to see.
And suddenly, I felt very foolish.
Because who knew if Abram would even come back to this spot after Derek and I had trespassed? And even if he did come back and see the note, who knew if he was even in his right mind enough to process what it was?
It was probably more likely that wild animals would get at the muffins in the container before Abram did.
I sighed, attempting to shake off the sense of defeat suddenly looming over me before hurrying back over to the river, to Thane, and most importantly of all, the cabin, before Derek could return and notice I was gone.
* * *
The next morning when Derek woke to let Thane out, he came back from the porch with an empty Tupperware container in his hands.
“What’s this?” he asked with a frown.
A jolt of surprise shot through me when I recognized the empty container for what it was, followed by a flurry of other emotions. Relief that Abram had found the peace offering, delight that he seemed to have eaten the muffins (either that or fed them to the birds, a sardonic voice whispered), and a twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t attached a note of his own.
“Wisp?” Derek pressed, his frown deepening.
“Oh,” I said, springing up from where I was sitting on the couch and snatching the container out of his hands. “It’s nothing. I thought I may have seen a stray outside the other day, so I left out some food.” Not completely untrue.
Derek raised an eyebrow. “What kind of stray?”
A bear.
“Um… a cat?”
Derek eyed me carefully before snorting and shaking his head. “Well, don’t do it again, okay?” I didn't know what it said about either of us that he so easily believed the lie. “You’re going to attract animals larger than cats if you leave food out around here.”
That was kind of the point.
“Oh, okay,” I agreed blandly, but I was already daydreaming about what I would make for Abram the next time Derek left to check his traps. Maybe brownies or some kind of pie – something so sweet that the man would have no choice but to comment.