“Yeah, but they were just little ones. There’s an end to a concussion. I get better and people don’t have to take up slack for me, everything’s back to normal. At least, that’s what’s supposed to happen.”
“Pregnancy’s not a permanent condition, honey.”
“No, but being a parent is.”
“You wouldn’t be the first veterinarian with a family.” James tucked her head under his chin, breathed in the smell of her hair. “There’s going to be challenges, but we’ll figure it out as we go. Why don’t we start by getting married?”
“You don’t have to marry me.”
“What the hell did you think I was planning to do? Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said about building a life together? Haven’t I pestered you every day for two weeks to move in with me?”
“It’s not the same—”
“Jillian.” He lifted her chin with a finger until her eyes met his. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been clear enough. You shouldn’t have a single moment of concern as to my feelings or my intentions. I love you. I’m not easy to love or to live with, but I’m just selfish enough to want to marry you anyway. I want to live with you in a home in the country and build a wildlife center and fill it up with deer and wolves and foxes and owls.”
“Moose, too. Sometimes we get moose.”
“And
especially
moose. Am I being clear enough now?”
“I think maybe I’m starting to get the picture.”
He took her lips, softly, gently. Kissed her until she moaned low in her throat. “Is that a
yes
I hear?”
“Mmmmm—yes. Hey! Stop!”
He had scooped her up and was heading down the hall. “First things first. You’re tired, you need to lie down. I’ll bet you haven’t had breakfast either, and it’s already time for lunch.”
“You’re going to be a real pain about this, aren’t you?”
He paused in front of her door until she reached down and opened it. Swung her inside. “You bet. I’m going to make your life miserable, and I’m going to begin by making you something to eat.” He set her carefully on the edge of the bed, stood back and looked at her with concern. “I should have asked. Are you feeling okay? Are you sick or anything?”
“I’m not throwing up in the mornings. Although I have to wonder how much of the nausea I’ve had since the accident was due to the concussion and how much was because I’m pregnant.” She covered her lips with her fingers on that last word. “God, I’m not used to saying that yet. It feels weird. Kind of scary. Okay, a lot scary. This is really going to change my life.”
“
Our
life,” he corrected and sat beside her, gathered her under one arm. “But we’ll be okay. It’s sooner than we might have planned, but what’s that plaque on Birkie’s desk say? The one with the John Lennon quote on it.”
“
Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.
”
“See? This is unexpected, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a good thing.” He kissed the top of her head. “A wonderful thing. We’ll raise this child right in the midst of all those animals we rescue. Not to mention we’ve already got three ponies and a dozen dogs for him on the farm. That’s a pretty good life for a kid, don’t you think?”
She hugged him tightly then, unable to speak, and held on for a long time.
Chapter Thirty-one
“I
’m moving to the country, I’m getting married, and I’m having a baby,” Jillian told her reflection in the mirror. She saw a young woman with short but unruly blond hair, green eyes, and fine features. The same woman she saw in the mirror every day, but somehow she was different now. “Wow, that’s a lot of changes. And not necessarily in that order either.”
Connor had called James for help in dehorning a pen of cattle. She’d napped while he was gone, not because he wanted her to but because she couldn’t help it. She did tire easily. She’d chalked it up to the concussion until this week when yet another period failed to appear. That was when she got Caroline to drive her downtown to one of the pharmacies. She’d loaded up a shopping basket with tons of things she didn’t need, just so she could bury two pregnancy test kits in the bottom of it. She thanked her lucky stars—if she had any—that she got a young cashier who didn’t know who she was, and that Caroline didn’t come back before everything was paid for and bagged.
She’d tested the minute she got back to her apartment. The strip turned blue. She’d heard that sometimes the strip was hard to read, but no, this was definitely blue. Jillian spent the rest of the day and half the night trying to think of non-pregnant reasons why she was testing positive. She waited until James left for the farm early that morning and tested again. Blue.
She certainly hadn’t planned on blurting the news to James at lunchtime, but it had worked out just fine.
He
was just fine, which was the amazing part. Or maybe not so amazing, considering the kind of man he was. Like Birkie had said, James was a complicated man with a tender and loving heart. Just last week, Jillian found him cuddling a couple of orphan puppies in the back room. He tried to claim they were cold and he was just warming them up, but she didn’t buy it. So it wasn’t too hard to picture his big powerful hands holding a tiny baby. It wasn’t hard to imagine him with a child either, not after he’d spent twenty minutes in the clinic’s waiting room letting an 8-year-old girl show him her pet iguana. James would be a great dad.
But what about her? She’d never thought much about the whole parenting thing. Her entire focus had been on getting through all the years of study and classes and practicums to become a vet.
I would have thought about kids eventually. I like kids almost as much as animals.
It was dealing with adults that could be difficult. She’d often wished the patients she treated didn’t have owners attached. Unless it was a child. She got along just fine with the kids who brought their pets to the clinic. She’d probably be okay with this whole baby thing too, if she ever got used to the idea.
Jillian puttered around the apartment, discovered the kitchen garbage can was overflowing, and decided to take it out before it walked away on its own. James was probably still helping Connor. She glanced around for him, but as she passed the livestock wing, she noticed that the cattle pen was empty and the floor had already been hosed down. She checked her watch and noted that the clinic had closed several minutes ago. Maybe James had gone back to the farm for something. No matter, he’d turn up eventually.
She squinted as she approached the back door and tried to shade her eyes. The late afternoon sun was glaring through the window, reflecting off the white tile floor and the pale walls of the hallway. It was a relief to step outside. It was bright out here too, but at least the light was coming from only one direction. Blinking, Jillian headed for the trees at the back of the parking lot where the bin was set up. It was a hot day and the shade was welcome by the time she tossed in her bag, but with the aroma of
eau de dumpster
hanging heavy in the air, she didn’t want to linger
.
Resigning herself to re-crossing the wide expanse of sunlit pavement, Jillian turned. And stopped dead.
Roderick Harrison was pointing a rifle at her.
“What the hell are you doing? Put that down!” Jillian demanded, sounding a lot braver than she felt. She was deliberately assertive, sensing it would be a mistake to act like a victim. The man wasn’t wild-eyed and raving like the last time she’d seen him, but there was an intensity to him that would have been scary even without the weapon. She clenched her fists, automatically looking for some way to engage him, but he was well out of her reach. Besides, her martial arts training covered only attackers with hand weapons. A rifle could kill from a distance.
“I told you to run while you could. Told you to get away, but you wouldn’t listen. I can see the blue, you know.”
“The blue what?” It was good that he was talking. Maybe she could keep him talking.
Please God, let someone see me out here.
She thought about screaming for help, but that didn’t seem like a good idea, not with the gun aimed at her midsection. She could be dead long before anyone heard her.
“The aura. You all have it. The whole damn nest of you.” He spat on the pavement without taking his eyes off her. “Corena would never have left if it wasn’t for you. She’d still be alive. She’d still be with
me
.”
“Who’s Corena?”
“You know damn well who she is. You all know each other. And no one’s allowed to leave the pack, are they? Goddamn fucking werewolves. You’re just like the goddamn mafia, you gotta have control, gotta have order. She tried to leave, and you killed her.”
She should have guessed this was about werewolves. She tried to play along, sound calm and reasonable. “I’m sorry to hear you lost someone. But I’m sure nobody here had anything to do with it.”
“I’ve seen that big white devil here, seen his whole pack here. This is goddamn werewolf headquarters.”
He had seen the white wolf. That was the reason behind this. But what was the right thing to say? He’d expect her to deny it.
Acceptance. Validate what he’s witnessed.
“It’s true that the wolf has been here. The white wolf is a frequent visitor to our clinic.”
It surprised him. He seemed to consider for a few seconds, studied her through narrowed eyes. “And the others?”
She drew a blank then. “What others? I’ve only seen one wolf.”
“Kept you for himself then. Kept you away from the others. I should have known when I saw his aura all over you. He’s going to change you, and keep you. Breed up a whole new pack.” He pointed at her belly with the gun. “Already started.”
A shiver ran through her. This was too weird, much too weird. How the hell did this guy know she was pregnant? She hadn’t known herself until—Forget that, she ordered herself
. Focus on what to say now. How do I talk my way out of this? How do you reason with a crazy person?
“But I’m not a werewolf myself.”
“That’s only a matter of time.” He raised the rifle, aiming at her head.
Oh Jesus.
Think “Corena wouldn’t want you to do this.”
“I let her talk me out of it once. I should never have listened.” His finger was on the trigger. “Liars and deceivers. That’s what you are, all of you. Pretending to be human, but underneath you’re all teeth and claws, just waiting for a chance to use them.”
Jillian jolted at the sound of glass breaking from the direction of the clinic. Harrison glanced behind him, and she used the distraction to dive to one side. She landed hard, scrambled up ready to run, when an unearthly howl, a blood-freezing battle cry, held her in place. An enormous white wolf,
her
wolf, was racing toward them, glittering shards of broken glass still flying from its coat. The sun glinted off its bared teeth as it leapt for her assailant. And Harrison swung to meet the attack. “No, don’t!” she screamed.
The explosion hurt her ears, deafened her. Wolf and man hit the ground together, rolled. The rifle skittered to the pavement. Then the white wolf lay still. Blood soaked its snowy white fur and pooled in the sun.
Her ears still ringing, Jillian couldn’t think, could only react. She ran to the wolf, scrambled to find a pulse. “Stay with me, stay with me,” she chanted, over and over, as she put pressure on the terrible wound in an effort to stop the bleeding. Only when Roderick sat up and started looking around for his weapon did she remember him. “You bastard! You goddamn
bastard!
” He was between her and the gun. If he reached it, she was dead and so was the wolf. She had no choice but to let go.
Jillian launched herself on top of her assailant, punching and kicking, screaming for someone to help her at the top of her lungs. It was more like wrestling than the kind of fighting she practiced, but she knew how to put power behind her punches. She managed to drill him solidly with a quick succession of blows, although a vulnerable spot was hard to come by from this position and she hadn’t quite regained all of her strength after the accident. Harrison reeled, then rallied, surprising her with a powerful backhand. With his greater weight behind it, the blow knocked her flying. She landed on the pavement next to the wolf, rolled nimbly to her hands and knees. Dizziness had her pausing for a second, only a scant second, but it was long enough to hear the bolt of a rifle being slid back.
She looked up fast, fully expecting to be shot, but nothing was pointed at her. Douglas Harrison had a rifle trained on his father.
“Put it down, Dad.”
Roderick had just closed his fingers around the stock of his own weapon. He spun around on his knees at his son’s voice, his rifle in his hands. Beyond him, Jillian could see Connor emerge from the clinic at a dead run, then stop still when he saw the situation. She could hear sirens in the distance. Someone had called the RCMP. Could she make a break for it now—or would running set Roderick off? The man was still armed. Still crazy, unpredictable. And seemed more irritated than worried that his son was trying to stop him. Meanwhile, the wolf lay beside her, bleeding. If she left now, he would die.
Quickly Jillian kicked off her shoe and peeled off a sock with one hand, folded it into a makeshift compress and mashed it into the gaping exit wound. She pressed the heel of her palm against it tight and held it, searched through the bloody fur with her other fingers for a pressure point, an artery. Something, anything, she could press to stem the supply of blood. She glanced up, saw that Connor had edged closer to the scene. Bill Watson was with him. She also saw that Roderick was on his feet now, rifle at the ready.
“They’re werewolves! Every damn one of them!” Roderick was saying. “Thanks to you, we didn’t finish this white bastard off that night, and now look. There’s a whole fucking nest of them. Someone’s got to make a stand. Someone’s got to stop them.”
“No, Dad,” said Douglas, never relaxing his grip on the rifle. “Someone has to stop
you
. I was too young and too scared to stand up and stop you before, but not this time. Put the gun down.”
“Want me to believe you’ll actually
use
that? You couldn’t pull the trigger that night when there was a werewolf right in front of your face. I told you to shoot. I told you, and you just stood there sniveling.” Roderick spat on the pavement. “Think I don’t know you haven’t picked up a gun since? All you can pick up now is a glass. You couldn’t shoot me if you tried.” He pointed his rifle then, not at Douglas, but at Jillian.
“I mean it, Dad.”
“It’s still the best strategy. You know that killing these two creatures will draw the rest out. There’s a couple over there already.” Roderick nodded his head toward the clinic. “More will come. We could get rid of the whole bunch at once if you helped me.”
“I won’t let you do this again. Put it down, Dad.”
Roderick ignored him, sighted on his target. There was a twin explosion of sound. And the old man was on the ground, his hands wrapped around his leg and a look of incredulity on his face. His own shot had gone wild, and his rifle had tumbled to the pavement. He made a wild reach for it, and Douglas fired again, placing the shot between his father’s fingers and the fallen gun. Roderick snatched his hand back as if it was burned and glared at his son. “You don’t understand. They won’t let you walk away. You’ll pay for letting these creatures go. They’ll make you pay.”
Douglas simply walked over and kicked the rifle across the parking lot, threw his own after it. “Pay what? I’ve already paid for the ones you killed. Paid and paid, my whole life. I’m telling the story to the authorities as soon as they get here.”
“You called the damn cops on me?” Roderick’s face turned purple with rage. “I raised you like a son. Even after your mother ran off, I raised you like my own son.”
“She didn’t run off,” Douglas said quietly. “And the werewolves didn’t kill her, either, did they? I talked to Rosa and we figured it out. Maybe you didn’t mean it, maybe it was an accident. But afterward you had to make up a story you could live with. It’s too bad more people had to die just to feed your fantasy.”
“It’s not a fucking fantasy. They’re werewolves, every last one of them. I’d never have hurt her if they hadn’t kept luring her away. It’s their fault.” Roderick pointed a shaking finger at Douglas. “Their fault that I . . . that I. . . .” He was silent then, holding his leg and rocking back and forth. He didn’t look at Douglas again.
Bill had already knelt by Jillian’s side. He threw a beefy tattooed arm around her shoulders and gave her a surprisingly gentle squeeze. “Are you okay, lovey?”