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Yet another secret about May that served to deepen the way I thought of her. “Do you think Melda’s mother stuck around the area and laid this egg?”
“It’s possible, I suppose, though I doubt it. Now, usually, the mother gives birth to babies who match her coloration,” May said. “You’ll need to think of a name for him. He’ll be able to talk—they’re born with the ability to immediately understand the language their bond-partner speaks. It’s automatic and is the result of the process of bonding.” She helped me adjust the blanket so that the dragonette was covered, yet not too warm.
At that moment, Bran’s voice echoed from the front door. “Anybody home? I brought lunch.”
“We’re back here, Bran,” May called out. “In the bedroom!”
“Should I tell him about the dragonette?” I asked.
“You can tell him,” she said to me. “He was fifteen when Melda died, but he remembers her and he’ll never breathe a word.”
A moment later, Bran peeked through the door. “Hey, Ma—what…” He stared at the dragonette. “That’s…”
“Yeah,” I said. “I found the egg out in the woods last night. It was calling to me and I went out tramping through the thicket at twoa.m.”
Bran knelt on one knee next to May, peering into the dresser drawer. “Do you think there’s any family connection to—” he paused, glancing at his mother.
“Melda? I doubt it. Although given how long dragonettes live, it’s possible.”
He smiled, and I realized at that moment, how genuinely handsome he was—and the smile reinforced his good looks. And…he felt safe. Safe in a way that I wasn’t used to.
“Well, I’m going to get to work on those beds for you. Don’t worry about helping. You have your hands full as it is.”
As he ducked out of the bedroom, I let out a sigh. “Okay, so I need a name for him. And food. Ground meat to start? Or does he have teeth?”
“He has sharp needle teeth and fangs like a kitten. He can eat ground meat easily, both raw and cooked. Dragonettes have cast-iron stomachs. He can also eat bread, soft fruits and vegetables—no carrots or potatoes unless cooked. He’ll tell you his preferences, probably by spitting out what he doesn’t like.” She laughed. “My Melda was brand-sensitive. There was one type of squash she loved, one type of meat, but she’d eatallthe crappy cereals if I let her—she had a sweet tooth. But sugar’s not good for anybody, dragonettes included.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t make it a huge part of my diet.”
“I wouldn’t want to be around a dragonette hyped up on sugar. Especially since most of them can spit jets of fire when they get agitated.” She motioned for me to follow her and we left him sleeping in the dresser drawer as we headed into the living room. Both a sub sandwich and a pizza waited on the counter.
“I need to meet a woman named Darla tonight around six, along with her daughter Georgie. They have a haunted house problem and asked me to check on it for them. Would you be willing to…” I was about to ask May if she could babysit, though that sounded ridiculous. But she picked up on my question without me finishing.
“Will I watch over him? Of course. Do you have food for him?”
I thought about what I had in my fridge. Half a dozen eggs, some tomatoes, and a bowl of two-day-old tuna salad. “Nope, that’s not going to do.” A glance in the cupboards told me that they weren’t any more helpful. “Is there a supermarket near here? If you have time to stay with him now, I can go buy groceries so he’ll have food when he wakes up.”
“Try Bayside Market—it’s new, and not far from here. I’ll text you the directions. Butyouneed to eat something first.” May patted my hand. “Don’t worry, you’ll get along with him. It’s your responsibility to think of a name for him. They all have their secret names, but you’re the one who’ll give him a name for this world.”
“I’ll be back soon! Thanks!” I grabbed my purse and keys, then—sub sandwich in hand—I dashed out the door and made a beeline for my car. Fitting the key into the ignition, bite of sandwich between my teeth, I backed out of my driveway as May’s text with the directions to the store came through. My life had changed drastically in the last twelve hours, and I wasn’t sure what to think about it.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Bayview Market wasabout a mile away from my house, tucked between a vet’s office called Dr. Carly’s Cat Hospital and a pot shop called Hi Jinx. I thought about it for a moment and decided it was brilliant marketing for the grocery store to open next to a pot shop. It probably helped both.
My mind still whirling from the events of the day, I grabbed a shopping cart from outside the market doors and hurried inside. The automatic doors opened onto the produce section, which had an amazing array of bright-colored vegetables. The market was busy—afternoon seemed a popular time to buy groceries.
I dropped some veggies and fruit into the cart, then added eggs and butter and a half gallon of milk. A couple loaves of bread—I preferred French so I bought two long baguettes—and then, a loaf of sandwich bread for toast. At the meat aisle I selected hamburger and ground pork, sausage, a couple steaks, a small roast, and then various lunch meats into the cart.
“I wonder if he’d like cat food,” I muttered, adding a variety box of seafood-flavored cans to my growing pile. If he didn’t like it, I’d give it to May. She had several cats.
Coffee was a must as well, and chips and a package of sandwich cookies. Tampons and toilet paper were also on the list, and as I spied the baby food, it occurred to me that might work if the dragonette’s stomach was upset.
I have to think of a name for him, I thought, but my mind was blank. I’d have to feel out his personality first. After paying for my groceries, I stopped at the espresso stand in the store and ordered an iced double-caramel mocha. I was heading out the automatic doors, fishing in my purse for my keys, when I rammed right into a cart entering the store.
Sighing, I started to apologize and found myself staring into the eyes of Faron Collinsworth.
* * *
