A Shift in the Water (18 page)

Mara couldn’t stop thinking about Cade during her drive to the hospital. Ever since he’d come into her life as a wolf, she’d felt a connection with him. Now that he was a man and could speak, the connection had only intensified. She didn’t want him to leave, if for no other reason than she felt better around him. But he couldn’t stay. He had a life somewhere. His pack might be dead, but he had to have family. Was he married? She hadn’t thought to ask. Maybe he didn’t even know yet.

It had broken her heart to see him struggling to write. Seven months trapped as an animal. Mara couldn’t fathom how horrible that must have been. But his humanity was coming back. Slowly. He’d had a few moments earlier when she’d seen the wolf in his eyes.

Mara parked and leaned her head back against the headrest, remembering the feel of him against her body. Strength, vulnerability, and something very male. “Stop it, Mar. He only hugged you because he was upset and you were right there. It was an unconscious physical reaction. Nothing more.” Shaking off the memory, she forced herself to head into the hospital.

She waved at Mark, the cute lab tech. He always tried to make her laugh when he took her blood. Today was no different. He recounted his favorite story: how he’d tried to become a professional clown at the age of nineteen but had scared his first group of kids so badly with his routine that he’d ended up running from the room and throwing away all of his gear, including the oversized shoes. He’d enrolled in nursing school the next day. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that he’d told her that story six times already.

Three vials of blood later, she crossed the sky bridge to Doctor Pendergast’s office for her exam. Dark clouds obscured the winter sun and she couldn’t help feeling like the Universe was foreshadowing something. “Stop it,” she said, scowling up at the sky.

Frigid recycled air from the vent above her head ruffled her gown and the paper that covered the examination table. She shivered and tried not to fidget. The finality of this day hung over her like a lead curtain. Passing out the previous night was the beginning of the end. She knew it and the doctor would confirm it.

“And how are you feeling today?” Doctor Pendergast asked when he came in and patted her on the shoulder.

“Great. Really. I haven’t felt this good in months.”
But it won’t last.

The doctor palpated her lymph nodes, checked her heart rate and breathing, and shone a light into her eyes. He made surprised noises more than once.

“You look better. Your nodes aren’t swollen, your heart rate is stronger, the low-grade fever is gone, and even your color’s improved. Your nail beds aren’t blue. What happened?”

Mara shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought I was dying last night. I overdid it. When I tried to go to bed . . . I barely made it. I couldn’t even get to the phone. But . . . ” She couldn’t tell him exactly what had happened. She didn’t know and she was sure he wouldn’t believe the elemental nonsense Cade spouted. “I woke up a few hours later and I felt normal. Good even. I’ve felt good all day.”

The doctor stepped away and picked up the phone on the wall. “This is Ben Pendergast. Do you have the red blood cell count for Mara Taylor yet?” There was a long pause and then the doctor spoke again. “Are you sure?” Another pause. “Huh. Run it again. And do the whole panel.”

He hung up and turned back to Mara. He looked shell-shocked. She bit her lip. “Well?”

“Your count is nearly normal. Oxygen levels are right on target, iron levels are normal, and there’s no denaturing at all.” He leaned back against the counter and shook his head.

Mara pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh shit. Are you saying . . . I’m . . . healthy?”

“According to the numbers, yes. I want you back here on Monday for a larger blood sample and don’t overdo it this weekend. But we won’t transfuse you until we get the results back from Monday’s tests. Okay?”

She felt like bouncing up and down on the examination table, but she kept her reaction to a wide smile and agreed. The doctor patted her hand. “I don’t know why this happened. I don’t know what made you sick in the first place and I don’t know why you’re suddenly better. But I really hope that this isn’t a fluke.”

“Thanks, doctor. Me too.”

Mara tucked the Bluetooth headset behind her ear and dialed her aunt on her way to the grocery store.

“Hi, Aunt Lil.”

“Hey, hon. How are you feelin’ today?”

“Good. Listen, I’m not going to make dinner tonight.”

“Why not? I knew we shouldn’t have delayed the transfusion. I’m comin’ over.”

“Aunt Lil, no. I’m not home and you can’t come over.”

“Yer in the hospital, aren’t you? Dammit Mara, yer too independent for yer own good!” The older woman’s voice rose half an octave and her southern drawl intensified. “I ain’t goin’ to take care of that wolf, y’know.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’m fine.” Mara said as she rolled to a stop at a red light. “I had some blood work done today and . . . things are good. Really good. My numbers are normal.”

“What?” Aunt Lillian screamed into the phone and Mara winced.

“Goddess. Okay, I might be deaf now. But as of today, I’m not in imminent danger of dying and I have some things to take care of. But I need to ask you a couple of questions. Eleanor. She kept telling you I was a water soul. What exactly did she mean by that? Did she ever use the word
elemental?
”

Aunt Lillian was quiet for so long that Mara wondered if the call had been dropped. “Aunt Lil?”

“This isn’t a conversation that we can have over the phone.”

“Fine. Tomorrow?”

“I’ll be over at noon with sandwiches.” Aunt Lillian hung up the phone before Mara could argue. She’d call her aunt later and make it a dinner out or go to Lillian’s apartment instead. Cade didn’t seem to like to be alone, but she couldn’t imagine that he’d want to deal with her overprotective aunt. Not with someone hunting him. Plus, she really didn’t want to have to explain to Aunt Lillian how her wolf had transformed into a man.

She went through Whole Foods in a rush, picking up steaks, kale, potatoes, a bottle of wine, two turkey and brie sandwiches, apples, and some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. She feared that Cade would be gone when she got home. But when she unlocked the door, he was pacing her living room.

“Feeling better?”

“Trying to get my stamina back. The more I use my muscles, the better.” He took the bag of groceries from her and set it on the kitchen counter. “I was worried.”

The crumpled paper with Mara’s cell phone number was clutched in his hand. He tucked it back into his pocket.

“I was gone all of three hours. Hospital visits are never quick. I don’t know why we, as a society, allow doctors to keep us waiting forever, but—”

Cade cut her off. “What did the doctor say?”

Mara shook her head. “I don’t know how to explain it. Neither does he. But at least for today, you’re right. I’m not sick. My blood work came back normal.” She pulled out the packages of steak and the wine, waving the bottle at him. “So we’re celebrating.”

Cade looked longingly at the steak and his stomach growled. Mara tossed him one of the paper-wrapped sandwiches. “No steak until dinner. Eat these. I got you two.”

He tore into the sandwich so fast she laughed. Between bites, he gave her a sheepish grin. “Werewolves eat a lot.”

“Obviously. And I thought your wolf had an appetite. How many calories do you need in a day?” She tucked the steaks in the fridge along with the vegetables.

“It depends on how often we shift. When I’d shift with my pack, we’d each put away a couple pounds of meat afterward. Oh God.” He crumpled up the first sandwich wrapper and staggered back against the counter. “I remember the clearing where we’d go. I can’t see them, but I remember being there with them.”

Mara grinned, pulled two cans of 7 Up out of the fridge, and passed him one. “In Bellingham?”

“Yeah.” He unwrapped the second sandwich. “I can’t pay you back for this,” he said. Despite the gusto with which he attacked the sandwich, his manners were impeccable. Another few bites and the second sandwich disappeared.

“You can do the dishes tonight,” she replied. “Cookies?”

“You know how to treat a man,” he said, shoving half a cookie into his mouth. His cheeks flushed and he reached around her for a napkin, brushing against her arm. A jolt of electricity curled her toes in her boots. He wiped his mouth and grinned.

Mara’s heart melted a little. His smile was slightly lopsided. The left side lifted a bit higher, a little wider than the right. His lips were chapped and would be rough if she kissed them. She blushed and turned away before she could do exactly that.

“We should try to work on your memory a little more. Okay?” Mara slipped out of the kitchen and into the living room. She opened her laptop and waited until Cade devoured two more cookies and joined her on the couch.

Mara typed Cade’s name into the search engine and scrolled down past three references to his death. The fourth hit was an article in
Seattle Magazine
.

Cade Bowman’s work for the Gates Foundation has drawn frequent crowds since his death in a fire in his hometown of Bellingham. The two-story wood installation, carved from three pieces of oak felled by lightning in 2011, evokes Seattle’s marine past and industrial future.

A photo slide show accompanied the article. “Oh Cade, this is beautiful. You did this? By hand?” Mara paged through a dozen photos. The wood depicted waves crashing against a rocky coastline. Pike Place Market’s profile filled one corner of the installation and Mount Rainier, the other. Cade shifted uncomfortably as Mara made appreciative noises at every detail. “I want to see this in person.”

“I don’t.”

“Why not?” Mara laid her hand on his thigh. He stared down at her fingers and shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

Mara didn’t push him, but filed the information away for later. Amnesia patients often needed to see parts of their former lives to regain their memories. Maybe seeing the installation could help him. She returned to the search results. Nothing else rang any bells for him, so she went back to searching for members of his pack. Liam’s name produced dozens of hits, most about his construction company and his late father’s charitable foundation back in Dublin, Ireland.

“Is Liam . . . was he born a werewolf?”

“Yes.”

Mara clicked on a link from a Dublin newspaper.

New Home for Wayward Youth Opens Next Month

St. Andrew’s Wayward Youth will be packing their bags and moving to East Dublin after the holidays. This comes after months of speculation from social workers after the O’Sullivan family estate was pulled off the market suddenly in June.

“That O’Sullivan place woulda been just grand for the wee ones, but after we got that angel donation, we went straight for the Murphy house. Bigger, closer to town, and a larger piece o’ property,” said Mary Leary, Director of St. Andrew’s.

The O’Sullivan estate barristers have refrained from giving an official statement, but they did confirm in an email to this journalist that they have plans to make a private sale.

Liam O’Sullivan was the last surviving member of the O’Sullivan family. He died several months ago in a tragic apartment fire. His will has not been released and repeated calls to his family barrister have not been returned.

A later news article displayed a photo of the castle-like estate. One of the windows was open and a face peered out. It was half obscured by a curtain, but the man had long, wavy red hair. “Who is this?” Mara asked. “Do you recognize him?”

Cade bent down and squinted at the screen. “Make it bigger?”

Mara obliged.

“Oh my God. That . . . it almost looks like Liam.”

Cade’s mind raced. Was Liam alive? Or was his memory playing tricks on him? He thought the man in the photograph looked like Liam, but if his beta did survive, why wouldn’t he leave some evidence that Cade could find? Or perhaps he did. Cade rubbed his palms on his thighs and wondered. Should he try to get to Bellingham?

They spent two hours looking for more photographs and any possible evidence that Liam O’Sullivan didn’t die in the apartment fire. Nothing gave Cade concrete hope and his frustration rose with every dead end. The phone number for the O’Sullivan Foundation had been disconnected, he couldn’t remember the names of any of Liam’s extended family, and as it was the middle of the night in Ireland, they couldn’t call anyone in real estate or law enforcement. Not that Cade or Mara had any clue what they’d say to the Irish officials.