After breakfast, I help the kids pack lunch, and Marcel gets them out the door, leaving me fifteen minutes to spare before my first appointment. My teakettle clatters on the stovetop, where I set it in preparation for tea, and I think about my day. While my official title is medicine woman, my role most of the time is as a therapist. Werebear have remarkable natural healing abilities and don’t get infections, although there are situations that require surgery and other procedures. Historically, the clan medicine woman or man did it all, but now, we have doctors to deal with major issues using human science.

Therapy isn’t something most werebear want to admit to, so they come to me under the umbrella of holistic medicine when they have a life issue to deal with. I make special tea blends for pregnant females so they can share their hopes and fears about motherhood. I offer potions to males to help them hone their inner strength in order for them to talk through a traumatic event like killing in a battle. I deal with training magical abilities that have shown up in werebear, which makes me think witches, warlocks, and werebear have definitely produced offspring over the years. And occasionally, when the evil side of witchcraft enters our world, I deal with that too.

My first client today is an older woman named Sylvia who lost her husband recently, and she’s having trouble sleeping. A drawer scrapes open when I tug on it to pull out my tarot cards. I’m going to give her a reading that should offer hope for her future as well as help her accept her loss. The tea I’ll make for Sylvia to drink this morning will be to help open up her mind. But I’ll send her home with a different blend to help her relax in the evenings so she can sleep and process her emotions through dreams.

When I hear the soft rap of Sylvia’s knuckles on my door, I go let her in.

“Tally,” she says as her eyes fill with tears.

I pull the woman into an embrace. “Sylvia, it’s nice to see you.” I hold her until she pulls away. One of my gifts is the ability to read minds, and although I keep a shield up to preserve the privacy of others, I can’t always keep their emotions from getting in. Sylvia’s pain slices straight to my heart, and I have to push it away before I react.

“I’m sorry,” she says as she sniffs. “I’ve really got to stop crying at every little thing, good or bad.”

I grab the box of tissues on my sideboard and hand it to her. “I have hot water in the kettle. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” says Sylvia as she sits at my table.

As I work on our drinks, I say, “I hope you have time for a visit. We haven’t caught up in ages.”

“I do. I’d love to hear about the twins. What are they? Three now?”

“Almost. What a great memory you have. Their birthday is next month.”

“Enjoy every moment of them, Tally. You’ll be amazed how quickly time goes by.”

“I am,” I say as I walk over to sit with our hot beverages. “I keep teasing them that when they turn three, I’m going to squish them back down to two.”

Sylvia cracks a smile as she tears up again. I reach over and grab her hand. “I know it’s hard for you right now, and lack of sleep isn’t helping. I’m going to make you a tea blend that should help with that.”

“Thank you.” She pulls away to take a sip of her tea.

“Would you humor me and let me do a tarot reading?” I hand her the deck of cards.

She takes them and immediately begins to shuffle. “I don’t know. I’m afraid of what they might say.”

“I’m not.” I think about how she has three children who will graduate from college this year, and I have a feeling true mates are in their immediate future. Which means grandchildren for Sylvia, and a new reason for her to open her heart to love. “Losing your true mate must feel like the world has ended, but I know you’ve got a lot of years left to live for a reason.”

“I wish I knew what it was,” she says as she continues to move the cards through her hands.

I reach for the deck. “Then let’s find out.”

After her tarot reading, Sylvia leaves with the hope of family returning home and grandchildren on the horizon. I’ll follow up with her in a few weeks, and I think we’ll find she’s in a better place when I do. When I was making her sleep aid, I noticed that I’m low on valerian root. Since my next client isn’t due for another half hour, I decide to take a quick trip to my garden to dig some up.

Once I’m outside, I take a moment to lift my face up to the sun and bask in its warmth before my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from my next client. He’s not going to make it. I walk over to the valerian and squat down. When I scoop up dirt, the rich aroma rises up to fill my nose, and I avoid a wiggling worm as I cut into the root to remove some of it.

I glance around at my gardens and think that I should probably spend time pulling weeds, but then I think about how much fun Marcel is having with our kids, and that plan gets tossed away for a new one. I’m going to go see if I can find them and spend a little time enjoying my family’s company.

After I put my gardening things away, I set out toward the path in the woods that leads to the river. I have a good idea where Marcel would take the kids fishing. I look around as I walk and take in the sounds of the forest. A woodpecker is tapping away at a tree, and leaves rustle as two squirrels that appear to be playing tag scamper by. I inhale the musky odor of rotting leaves mixed with the sweet smell of fresh air. My heart aches a little for Sylvia as I think about what it would be like to lose the man she spent most of her life loving. He was the one she counted on to be there no matter what. The way I rely on Marcel. I catch my breath as the intensity of her loss comes back to me. It makes me move with a sense of urgency to see my family.

In about ten minutes, I find out I was right about where Marcel took the children, because I hear his deep laugh. I smile as I step out into the clearing, but my happiness is instantly replaced with shock. Marcel is standing knee-deep in a shallow section of the water with two bear cubs happily splashing near him. What the— Now my shock gets replaced with anger. “Marcel!” His laughter fades quickly too as he notices me stomping my way over. “What are you doing?” I screech from the riverbank.

“Teaching the kids to swim.”

I don’t want to upset my children, so I lower my voice and try to make it as calm as possible. “As bear?”

“Yes. And they’re naturals.” He offers me a tentative smile.

I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly as I do my best to calm down. I can’t even fathom why he thinks this is a good idea. “It’s one thing to let them shift naturally, but to encourage it? And why do you think such an important event should happen without me? Don’t you think I should have been here?”

“No.” Marcel scowls as his eyes get hard with his anger. “I don’t. Do you want me around when you’re teaching the kids about magic?”

I take a moment to consider his words. Damn it. He’s got a point. Marcel would only be in the way since I’d be teaching them to do things he can’t. But I’m still spitting mad that I wasn’t even consulted, especially since I would have told him no. I say, “Fine. I’ll give you that. But we should have discussed this first.”

“We did. Kimi told us to accept what’s happening, and since our kids are shifting left and right, I thought it was time they understood why.”

“Two times, Marcel!” I catch myself when I realize that my twins in bear form are both watching with wide eyes. I let out a huff and turn away as I try once again to control my anger. I can’t even wrap my brain around how he’s explaining this to them, but I know that I’m too upset to have a rational conversation about it, and I don’t think it’s appropriate to do in front of the kids. I turn back to face them again and force out the most normal voice I can. “Don’t worry, guys. Mommy’s fine.” I look at Marcel. “What’s done is done, but we need to discuss how this is going to be going forward.”

He nods, but I see his bear in his eyes and know he’s mad too. I flash to a vision of Marcel shifting into a bear in front of the kids, and I realize I’m about to lose it. I push the thought away and look at my children with the hope they can help me stay in control. My god, they’re adorable as little bear cubs. They’re roly-poly little beings with fur that looks silky soft. And the little grunts they’re making give me cuteness overload. I step onto the small beach and take off my shoes. “Hey, guys. Are you having fun?” I ask, even though I know they can’t answer.

I step out into the water. And the smaller of the two, who I assume is Ava, comes up to me. She wraps her legs around me like a koala, and I squat down to scoop her up. Wet fur soaks my shirt as she licks my face with her tongue. I chuckle because it tickles.

Marcel says, “Bear kisses.”

I nod. Marcel doesn’t spend a lot of time in bear form around me, and there’s so much I don’t know. I nuzzle into Ava’s fur, and suddenly, my heart hurts as if it’s being squeezed in a fist, because I can’t teach my children about being bear. I realize I’m not really upset that Marcel is training them to be bear. It’s that I can’t. My twins are going to grow up with a mother who doesn’t truly understand a very important side of who they are. They should be with one who is a werebear.

Another thought sends ice through my veins, because even though I thought I was okay with trusting in the love Marcel and I have, I’m not. Because our love isn’t enough for my children. Marrying Marcel may have been a huge mistake.