Lucy,
I must apologize, deeply, for my lack of contact over these many years. Your father’s family would not have approved of me, and for too long I assumed your father would be no different. By the time I learned differently, I had no idea how to make up for all the lost time. I hope you will be able to forgive me.
I feel silly writing, ‘by the time you read this, I will be gone,’ but it’s true. Richard has been given my orders as to the distribution of my estate, but I already know that you will be the Queen to our little clan. I know it must come as something of a shock, but from what I have learned about you, I know you will rise to the occasion and help us We have a long history, much of which I’ve been writing up in my retirement. I hope the knowledge will help make up for what my absence entailed.
If I am fortunate, I will have accomplished the clan alliance between our clan and the Kwoli clan. If not, their alpha, Jason Hewett, has proven himself trustworthy and honest. I feel confident saying you can finish negotiating with him successfully, and I must say, if love were to blossom between him and you or your younger sister…but I am gone, as I said, and it’s not really any business of mine any more.
Keep the clan strong. In return, you will want for nothing. My love and best wishes are with you. Please share them with your sisters as well. I hope they will understand.
Yours with affection,
Oliver.
Lucy read the letter silently, and Jason watched her face as she reached the last line. He’d sat next to her, and he felt lucky he let her read over her shoulder.
So Oliver had known. He hadn’t told Jason—maybe he thought it would be better if Jason found out who the clan Queen was on his own. Maybe he hadn’t wanted Jason to marry for power.
He’d liked the guy. He wished they’d had the chance to meet face to face, to have him tell Lucy the truth about werewolves, about the clans.
There were more letters under the first envelope. Lots more.
“What did he mean about Dad’s family not approving of him?” he asked.
“Not sure,” Lucy said. “I mean, you guys can hide the werewolf thing pretty well, right?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“They’re pretty conservative. Maybe he was gay. Or an actor. Or a Buddhist.”
“I don’t think he was a Buddhist,” he said. “Let’s read through the letters, maybe that’ll help.”
There were two piles of letters, tied with string. One had a post-it with Personal written on it, in Oliver’s handwriting. The second post-it said Clan Business.
Lucy looked at them both for a second. “I’d better read these,” she said, picking up the Clan Business pile. “Why don’t you start on the second pile, tell me what stands out. I can read through it all later, but right now…I want to know why he sent these to me.”
Jason had to admit he did too. And sitting next to the woman he loved certainly didn’t sound like a bad way to spend an hour or two.
There was a stack of about twenty letters. It looked like the oldest one was on the top, so he started there.
Ollie,
Been far too long since my last letter. I miss you, miss you like I’d miss water or breathing, but I’m damned if I can spare a minute to actually write. We’re working 18-hour shifts, and then I fall into bed, fall back out, eat half my weight and do it all over again. Almost lost one last night and I ended up staying on for 21 hours. Personal record. The kid’s okay, though. Might even make it.
Takes a lot out of you. But it’s sure nice when they go home.
Think maybe it’s okay I’m not going to be a parent. Not sure I could survive it.
Be careful. I’ll be home soon.
E
Who was E? Sounded like a medical resident from the letter. Then there was Emily Lee, but the handwriting didn’t match. The letters continued. As time passed the letters from E were less guarded, more passionate.
Packs are ridiculous. Take up too much of your time. Guess I can’t complain, since that’s how you found me. Come home soon, I miss you.
Had several offers from beautiful women. Wish I could tell them the truth. No one here holds a candle to you.
“They’re mostly love letters,” Jason said. “From someone named ‘E.’”
“Interesting,” she said, but her attention was held by the letter she was reading. “Tribute,” she said. “It’s more than dead animals.”
It wasn’t a question but he answered it. “Historically, the other clan members kept the Alpha maintained, and the Alpha, in turn, took care of the clan members. Usually now we have jobs too, but…there’s money.”
“You’re an alpha,” she said. “People—send you money?”
“Not like that,” he said. “Not any more. I’ve inherited money, and property, and I’ll admit those investments would keep me afloat even if I didn’t work. But I also manage the clan investments. We have an emergency fund, and that’s vital. We’ve had mudslides and earthquakes, all that stuff. We’re a lot quicker than FEMA. And of course, we were a lot more important before FEMA existed.”
“Do you feel like…do you feel responsible?”
“Responsible is exactly it,” he said, putting a hand on her thigh and hoping it was reassuring. “That’s what an Alpha is. You guide, advise, and look after the clan. And…sometimes you have to intervene, when things get out of hand. But that’s rare.”
“Intervene how?”
“It depends,” he said. “Usually you just get the other clan members and talk it out. Once in a while you have to take action, but when you’re in charge, your word goes. They can all feel it. You’ll feel it too, when you’re in the pack.”
“It’s not how wolves do it, though,” she said. “They…fight and stuff, right?”
“We’re not—” He hesitated for a minute, trying to figure out how to explain it to her. “We’re not completely like wolves. I mean, we’re not wolves, we’re werewolves. I know we look like dogs or wolves, but there are a lot of differences. But we’re human-looking too, and we’re not completely like humans. We’re our own special thing. And you’re part of that, too. You have power. And I can help show you how to use it.” He squeezed her leg. “And I’m not the only Alpha. There are…there are lots of clans. Mostly we trust each other. I could certainly get a couple of Queens together for you to talk to.”
“I…I don’t know,” she said, putting the letter in her hand aside and opening another. “Let me read through all this. It’s a lot.” She smiled a little and leaned into him. “Tell me if those love letters get steamy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The next letter looked like it had been steamy, but Oliver—or someone—had drawn through one paragraph with black Sharpie. He had to laugh. The next letter wasn’t a letter—it was a card, a birth announcement. Frieda Elaine Johnson. There was a hand-written note. A new member of the clan, it said. It must have been sent by Lucy’s mother. He tapped Lucy’s leg and handed it to her.
“Oh,” she said. She bit her lip. “That’s Mom’s handwriting.”
“I kind of wondered,” he said gently.
“I wish…I wish I remembered her more. She could have explained all of this. She would have—”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sure she would have.”
Another letter from E, this one with a name. Ethan. “He was gay,” he said. “The love letters. A man named Ethan.”
“Dad’s family…yeah. That would’ve been a problem.” She looked over at him. “Werewolves…how are you guys? Would he—”
“We’ve never cared, as long as the Clan continued. There are stories in the earlier histories especially of marriages of convenience, but that was to keep us hidden in the human world. My clan is mixed—European, Makah and Quileute—and it’s never been an issue for the Makah and Quileute anyway. We have the whole clan. We look out for each other. No matter what.”
“That’s…that’s good.”
Another birth announcement, this one for Lucy herself. It had a teddy bear on it, and one for Ophelia. The last had a picture of all three girls, Frieda holding tiny little Ophelia. Jason wished that Lucy’s mother had been in the picture too. He wanted to see the mother of those beautiful girls.
A newspaper clipping announced her death. He decided not to show that to Lucy. Not yet. Then there was another letter.
Well, the news is as I feared. I will probably see you in person before you receive this, but I had to write. Get all the words out, in case they stick in my throat when I see your face. It is terminal, and I have very few options: fight until the bitter end, or do my best to stay comfortable until the inevitable passes. I know you would have me fight, but I’m going to call on my superior medical knowledge. There is only so much anyone can do, and I would rather be content with you, in the house that has meant so much to you both. I have sufficient funds to hire a nurse, and that and all your companionship will be all I require.
I am sorry to give you this news, though. I would live with you another hundred years, if I could, though I suppose you know that, and I would not give away the time we had at any price.
You are everything to me, Oliver. I hope…I hope you will not mind if I stay with you until the end.
E
Underneath was the only reply that Oliver had kept. Darling. I’ll have you with me until the end, and beyond. O.
Jason touched Lucy’s arm, and handed the letters over without a word.
Her mouth made a little o as she read, and she smiled, sadly, as she read the reply. “He wasn’t a werewolf,” she said, “but he—”
“Like your dad,” Jason said. “We…our arms are open. We’re—we’re good people, Lucy.”
“I know,” she said. She handed him back the letters. “Keep—you’re keeping it all in order?”
He nodded. “You’ll be able to read it all through, just the way I have.”
“Thanks,” she said. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “And thanks for answering all my questions.”
“Anything,” he said.
“Anything?” She grinned.
He kissed her again as an answer. Her lips were so soft and sweet. He wanted to straddle her on the couch and make love to her all over again. Her heartbeat picked up, and he suspected she wanted the same thing…but there were still letters to go through, and his stomach was starting to grumble. He let go of her, reluctantly, and got back to the letters. The stack was almost over. There was a newspaper clipping, and obituary. Ethan Houston, 78, of Hadley. Pediatrician and activist. Retired several years before his death, survived by Oliver Rome, his partner of many years. The picture showed a handsome, thin white man with snow-white hair. Dignified, was the thought that immediately came to mind.
Lucy could look at that later. That was almost the end of the pile. There was one additional letter, addressed to Lucy.
“One more letter for you,” he said, handing it to her. She put the clan letters aside and took it.
“This is the first handwriting,” she said. “Isn’t it?”
“I think so,” he said. “Emily? Ellen?”
“Emily Lee,” she said. She let him read over her shoulder.
Now, the letter said, you have the whole story, or at least as much of it as Oliver chose to share. Ethan was my dear brother, and so, truly, was Oliver, especially after I married into the clan. I suppose that was why he trusted me with these letters, to be sent on the one-month anniversary of his death. If I can help you with anything more, I will be glad to help, though I’m afraid my memory is not as sharp as it once was. I hope at least you will consider me a friend.
Emily Lee.
***