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“You knew what to do to help mates heal each other,” Benny said, looking out the window, to give Titus privacy. “Not many do.”
Titus was silent. “Long time ago, now,” he said. “But yeah, I had a mate. She died while I was overseas fighting a godforsaken war. Ironically it probably would have taken me if I’d been there. But I’d raised barriers around our bond when I went to war —to protect her. It protected me instead. I cursed that for a very long time.”
“Thank you for sharing a part of your story with me,” Benny said formally. He got out of the pickup. “And it reassures me to know that there will be someone to help the two of them navigate this — a mate bond coupled with the Alpha-Second bond. They both told me they can see the two bonds — not just one.”
“Weird shit,” Titus said. He got out to help Benny unload the motorcycle out of the back. A second trip got the groceries into the cabin. “And a female pack Second. Might be interesting enough that I’ll stick around for a while longer.”
Benny snickered. “May you live in interesting times,” he intoned mockingly.
“You know that’s not a real Chinese curse, don’t you?” Titus said as he got into the pickup.
“So I’ve heard,” Benny said, grinning. “So I’ve heard.”
Benny spent the evening happily puttering around the old cabin. His father had put it to bed tidily before leaving. And the more he puttered, the more he became convinced his father hadn’t intended to return. Where was he? What was he doing? Benny wondered with exasperation.
Bacon and eggs made a fine supper too.
Run? His wolf suggested. Benny hesitated and then agreed. He stripped and shifted and ran. It was a crisp, clear night — cold too, but his wolf didn’t mind that —and he howled at the moon. Then he panicked, but no one howled back. Relieved, he yipped a couple of more times before trotting back to the cabin.
That would have been hard to explain if he’d called the pack to him after going to great lengths to avoid that, he thought with amusement. He stoked up the fire in the pot-bellied stove, and then shrugged. He shifted back to wolf and slept on the floor in front of it.
Saturday morning, he did a few more chores, and finally braved his father’s study to check it out. And sitting on the blotter on the big craftsman’s desk were two envelopes addressed to him and Ryder. He left Ryder’s sitting there and took his out to the front steps to read.
It didn’t answer any of the questions Benny wanted answers to. It was basically a father’s letter to his son when he wasn’t sure he was coming back. But Benny had never been in doubt that his father loved him. Of all the things he had questions about, that wasn’t one of them. He smiled at that, and carefully folded the letter back into the envelope and tucked it into his backpack.
And then he went for a ride into Okanogan.
The town hadn’t changed all that much from his memories. Oh, some buildings had new coats of paint, and there were more coffee shops advertising trendy drinks instead of all you could eat breakfast. He wandered around, found the high school, and Naomi’s old house. She hadn’t lived there in decades — she’d moved out to a small community on the reservation after she retired from teaching. He wished he could see her.
He stopped and thought about that. Well, he could, if he really wanted to. He reminded himself that she wouldn’t match his memories — she was 70, now, and she would look it. After the Wolf Harbor resort, though, that didn’t appall him as it might have once. Did he want to see her? Talk to her?
He did, he acknowledged. This trip with Ryder had made him realize just how important she had been to his life. Without her, he doubted he would have gone to college. He would have gone back to Chang Mai first chance — even if he had to enlist to do it. He’d be dead by now, he thought soberly. Sucked back into the tongs that ran Thailand’s underground? When he’d been a child, it had been focused on resisting Pol Pot. But it was a criminal underground, and drugs and guns were sold to the highest buyer. Street soldiers like him died young.
And he wouldn’t have lasted any longer if he’d enlisted. With his gift for languages, he would have been snapped up by the CIA and sent into hellhole after hellhole, until one day he didn’t come back. Probably end up in his Dad’s old job in Siem Reap.
No, he owed Naomi George Garrison a lot.
They’d had great telephone conversations throughout the years. She was clear-eyed, good humored, and a sharp observer of current events — especially as it applied to the clash of cultures in her own backyard.
Yes, he decided. He wanted to see her. Ironically, it wasn’t hard — he’d do just what his Dad had done after he’d ‘died’ and wanted to stay a part of Ryder’s life. A young relative checking up....
He called her, and she was delighted to hear from him as she always was. “Naomi, I’ve got a young relative — the grandson of a cousin, I don’t even know what that is called —who’s in your neck of the woods,” he began. “He reminds me so much of myself, it’s scary. But I thought you might welcome a visit — give the kid a homecooked meal. No telling what he’s been eating.”
She laughed. “A young Benny Garrison? I’d be delighted. Have him come out for Sunday dinner. Unless you think he’d like to go church with me,” she teased, knowing just how unlikely that was.
“Probably not church,” he conceded. “But dinner? Still at 2 p.m.?”
“As always,” she said. “You remember how to get out here? Or have him call me, and I’ll give him directions.”
“I remember,” he assured her. “And get this? His name is Ben. A lot of Bennys, Bens, Benjamins in our family. He’s one of them.”
“I’ll see him then,” she said. They talked a bit longer before Benny hung up. This was a mistake, he told himself. But he was going to dinner anyway.
He and his wolf went for another night run —but he was careful not to howl at the moon. He wasn’t taking any chances.
