Called by the Bear 1-3 (5 page)

C
arly

S
ierra is playing
old ’80s tunes, and both of us have no trouble singing along. I'm sure it's one of the telltale signs of being raised by a single parent, and I think we both have happy memories associated with the previous generation's music. I'm searching the Internet for a breakfast place past New York City other than what we can find at a rest stop.

"Hey, this place looks good. Julie's Diner, and it's only a couple miles out of our way." I click on the menu.

"I want a huge stack of pancakes and a pot full of coffee." Sierra's purple fingernails are tapping on the wheel to the beat of a Queen song.

"Not me, I'm craving an omelet and lots of bacon." My mouth salivates. "According to the menu, they have all we need. Get off at exit 38 in Connecticut and wake me then. I'm going to try to nap."

Sierra turns the music down. "Want me to plug in?"

"Naw, these songs make me think of my dad. I shouldn't have any trouble sleeping. Thanks, though." Plastic creaks as I lower the back of my seat and snuggle in to doze off.

T
he water is cool
, but I don't mind. Hot, sweaty, and dusty, I couldn't wait to strip off my clothes and dive in. My hair feels like silk swirling around my shoulders, and the sensation of nothing but liquid against my skin is titillating. So much so I'm a little turned on, and it's a shame I'm alone.

As if my thoughts conjured him, I notice the green-eyed guy standing on the shore. In a tight tee and jeans, he looks as filthy as I was. He's hot too. And I mean that in every sense of the word. His dark blond hair is in need of a good cut. A couple days’ worth of stubble is on his face, and those ruby-red lips beg to be bitten.

Treading water, I stare at him as if I'm daring him to join me. I kind of am, but I’m not brazen enough to speak my thoughts. I don't have to because he's pulling his shirt over his head. Muscles ripple along his chest and arms, and I resist the urge to reach between my legs and touch myself.

I almost hear his button pop open from the strain of his huge erection when he begins to take off his jeans. His deep laugh booms across the quarry to me when he realizes his boots are still on and he can't remove his pants after all.

He bends down to unlace them, and I wish he wasn't facing me so I could ogle his perfect ass. He says, "Carly, love, I'll be there in a moment."

I lick my lips because if he's getting naked to swim with me, then I'm in for a treat. I'm also flattered by the nickname. Being called love makes me feel special.

I call back to him, "I've been waiting for you all my life. What's a few more seconds?"

"Carly." Sierra's voice wakes me.

I snarl at the intrusion.
Whoa, it was only a dream.
“What?"

"I just pulled off the highway and need to know where to go for breakfast."

"Oh." I blink in the bright morning light and focus on figuring out what she's asking. Directions. My phone. I reach in my back pocket and push a button to turn it on. The map comes up when I tap the Internet icon. "A mile on this road and then turn right on Main Street. It's another mile or so down on the left."

"Good, I'm so hungry."

Yeah, me too, but not for food.
I rack my brain trying to remember my dream. The only thing I can recall is the desire to touch the fine body of the Amazon-sized man who stripped for me. I let out a big sigh.

"What's the matter?" Sierra has flipped the blinker, and it ticks steadily.

"Nothing. I had another dream, and I was trying to place where I was. Unfortunately the star of said dream was stripping off his clothes, and my focus was on him."

She chuckles. "I hate it when that happens."

I grin. "Yeah, I shouldn't complain."

Sierra turns the car smoothly, and the engine whines as she accelerates. "I don't think we need to worry. It's clear someone, or something, wants us in Maine, and I think they'll make sure we know how to get there."

"I suppose, but not knowing is driving me crazy." I finger-comb my hair in an effort to be presentable.

“What does your guy look like?"

"He's got blondish hair that's messy in a sexy way, and he's big. Tall, broad shoulders, and huge--" I pause for effect. "Thighs."

Sierra grins. "Uh-huh." The car slows as we enter the parking lot.

"My man is big too, but he's tall, dark, and brooding. The kind of guy I love to loosen up." The car clicks into park, and she rubs her hands together. "My kind of challenge."

"Do you think there's any chance our dreams are close to reality? What if we're heading toward troll-like dwarf creatures?" I chuckle because I’m not serious. The car door groans as I open it.

Sunlight halos Sierra's dyed-black hair, making it glow blue. She says, "That might not be so bad. They're a good height for us." She waves her hand across her groin, and I snort when I get what she means.

"You're twisted." I shake my head. "But I love you for it."

"It's the dreams. I swear, if we actually hook up with guys half as sexy as the ones we've been lusting after, the trip will be worth it." She pulls open a clear glass door, and the aroma of coffee wraps around us.

While we wait to be seated I say, “I know this is kind of weird, but sometimes things in my dreams come true.” I wrap my arms around myself, recalling the bear biting into my flesh, and unease settles over me.

“Really? Sweet.” Sierra’s smile doesn’t hint at the evil I fear lurking around the corner, and I love that she just accepts my admission.

Forty-five minutes later we roll out full of our favorite breakfasts and ready for the remaining ten-hour drive to Bangor, Maine. Approaching my Subaru, I notice it looks odd. As we get to it I realize the back tire is flat.

"Great, we get to change a tire. Ever done it before?" I look at Sierra's painted nails and decide it was a stupid question.

"Nope, but I know how to call for help, and you've got Triple A." She flashes a lipstick smile at me.

"True." I sigh because now we won't get to our destination until after dark. Plastic cards slip through my fingers as I search for the right one. "Got it."

Sierra's nails click on her phone as she types in the number I read to her. She wanders off as she talks, and I'm left to stare out at the Connecticut landscape. It's kind of ugly in an industrial way, and I imagine living just outside of New York City isn't very pleasant. When she's done talking Sierra returns and says, "Some guy named Taylor will be here in about fifteen minutes."

"Great. Let's take our stuff out to get to the spare."

The sun has heated up the car, and the salty fried odor of road food wafts towards us as we throw our bags out of the trunk and onto the asphalt beside the car. The tightly woven carpeted trapdoor is rough in my hands when I pull it up to reveal my spare. It’s an oddly small-looking thing, and rubber is pulled away from the rim. "Crap on a cracker, it's flat."

"Well, that sucks. Guess we're buying you a new tire." Sierra sits on the bumper next to me and leans against my body. "Hey, this could be so much worse. What if we were on the side of the road?" She places her hand over her tattoo. "They're watching out for us. I can feel it."

"Really?" I squint at her in frustration and stand. "Because I'm not feeling a thing. If these guys really want us to come to them, then why aren’t they sending out their bat signal? Huh?"

I kick a tire on my car, and pain shoots through my toe. “Ouch!” Through my blurry vision I see something dark move by the side of the diner. I’m tempted to go see what it is, but with the way today is going, I’d probably get mugged.

Sierra gives me time to cool down. "Okay, no, I’m not getting any sign either. But there's no use in getting upset over things we can't change. Let's just roll with it." She grins. "Roll with it, ha!"

I smirk. "Cute." I'm glad Sierra is with me to defuse my anger. She takes things in stride, and I do need to learn to roll with it. I watch her leaning over the side-view mirror to apply lipstick. When she smacks her lips I chuckle because Taylor has no idea what’s about to hit him.

C
arly

T
he tow truck
clanks its way into the parking lot fifteen minutes later. The lumbering body that gets out of the truck is no guy, though. While tall and large, Taylor is most definitely female. Wild auburn hair is tucked into a filthy-looking baseball cap, and I expect to see grease on her face. Instead, a pair of the prettiest green eyes I've ever encountered appear to laugh at me.

"Taylor?" My questioning voice makes her break into a big grin.

"I get that a lot. It never gets old."

Taylor is dressed in loose jeans and a blue cotton work shirt with her name embroidered on the front. Sierra makes a show of looking her up and down and says, "Well, aren't you just a surprise waiting to happen."

Laughter bursts from the girl, and one can't help but smile in response. "Can't say I've gotten that one before. So you ladies got yourself a flat tire?"

I answer, "Yup, and a flat spare too." I'm grateful for the useless extra tire because I would be embarrassed to admit to this woman I couldn't change a flat.

Taylor says, "Well, all-righty, looks like we need to hook you up and take you in to the shop. The front's gonna be tight, but I think we can all fit." She gets back in the truck to move it into position. She makes short work of hooking up my car, and before we know it, we're squashed into the cab making small talk as we ride to the garage.

The open windows let in a breeze that blows hair around my face, and I smell the pungent odor of mulch in the air. Sierra asks, "So how did you end up driving a tow truck?"

“My dad worked in this business, and since it was only the two of us, I spent most of my life under cars. It's all I ever wanted to do, and when he died of a heart attack a couple years ago, I decided to open that business he was always talking about. I got myself a silent partner and did it." Her face falls for a moment, and I wonder if it has to do with missing her dad. I sure miss mine.

Sierra cocks her head at me and points to my wrist. She turns back to Taylor. "I'm sorry to hear that. Both Carly and I lost parents too."

Catching her drift, I lift my arm to hold the handle above the window of my door, making sure my tattoo is visible if Taylor looks over.
Is being a single woman without family one of the requirements for our strange club?

"Did you now?" Taylor purses her lips but says nothing.

Sierra is not one to let a conversation drop. "Yeah, but we're headed to Maine to start new lives with some hunky mountain men." She's grinning, and Taylor's face lights up.

Slowing to almost a crawl, Taylor maneuvers the tow truck into the parking lot of an auto repair shop. The white-and-red-painted building is clean looking despite the state of Taylor's hat. I'm impressed and gather she's a savvy business woman as well as a good mechanic. "Any idea how long this is going to take?"

Taylor puts the truck into park and turns to speak to me. With my hand still holding the handle I watch to see if she notices my tattoo. I'm rewarded with a slight widening of her emerald eyes as she says, "It shouldn't take too long. We'll go pick out your new tires and get you back on the road before dinner."

I drop my hand in my lap, and Taylor nods at it. "Nice tattoo. Can I ask where you found the design?"

Sierra's face breaks into a grin as she elbows me. "I knew she’d see it."

I ignore her and answer Taylor. "I designed it. I'm a tattoo artist. It came to me in a dream."

Taylor leans back and crosses her arms. "I've been dreaming about it too. Huh." She sits up again and gets out of the truck, but somehow I don't think we're done with this discussion.

"Randy! Come get this car into the bay for me." Taylor turns to us. "Follow me." She leads us into an immaculate showroom. Oil, lights, and various car supplies are set neatly on shelves, and tires are in racks lining one wall. The faint aroma of new tires is in the air, but the scent of coffee overpowers it.

After an in-depth discussion of treads and winter roads I settle on four new tires that should keep me driving the Subaru safely for a few more years. When Taylor is done she says, "I'm going to go get the guys started. Can I get you ladies some coffee or tea while you wait? I even have hot chocolate."

Sierra's eyes light up. "I would love hot chocolate."

I say, "Coffee for me, please."

We wander over to red vinyl chairs and sink into seats that are cushioned and comfortable. Sierra speaks in a low voice. "I knew it. I think a certain kind of woman is being called. She's capable, free of family ties, and--" She throws her shoulders back in a theatrical way. "Of a large stature."

"Could be. Maybe she'll have some clues for us. Because I guess I'm going to tattoo another paw print today."

Taylor's boots thumping on the vinyl floor capture my attention as she walks toward us with two steaming mugs. "Here you go, ladies. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Sierra says, "No, but why don't you have a seat and ask us your questions."

Taylor snorts, "Well, you don't hold back much, do you?"

I say, "You have no idea. But go ahead, we know you have them, and so do we."

"Okay." A chair scrapes across the floor as she arranges it so she can face us. She sits with a sigh. She trains her eyes on me. "Are you the one that's going to tattoo me?"

"I can."

"Thanks, we'll trade services."

"Oh, no, four tires and a tow do not equal a tattoo."

Taylor shakes her head. "Yes, they do. I have a feeling you're going to be giving me much more than a tattoo."

Before I can reply, Sierra holds her hand up to stop me while she looks at Taylor. "Tell us about your dreams."

Taylor's fair skin flushes red. "Well, there's the sign and this guy--"

Sierra cuts her off and leans forward in a whisper. "Is it a sex dream?" Taylor nods, and Sierra continues, "And does it get a little--furry?"

Taylor squints her eyes shut and says in a small voice, "Yes."

I pat her hand and find it surprisingly warm. "It's okay, we have the same dream. If it makes you feel any better, I don't think we're turning into freaks."

Taylor takes a deep breath. "Oh, good, because it's just too weird. The whole thing is." She sighs. “I had a guy that I thought was my future, and within a week of the dreams it was over for me. I couldn’t get rid of him fast enough.”

I think about my sudden revulsion for Ray. "It kind of happened overnight for me too."

I look around the shop, and the pride she takes in running a good business shows in every meticulous detail. "Here's the thing. After I give you the tattoo, you're going to be called to move to Maine. The pull is really strong, and you'll need to leave all this. Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

Taylor nods somberly. "I'm already feeling it. A business broker is coming to meet with me tomorrow morning. And last night I had a dream about you two. I didn't realize who the women in the dream were until I saw your tattoo." She smoothes out the fabric on her thighs.

Sierra says, "It's fate. We got that flat so you could meet us. I think you need to have the tattoo in order to go." Her foot is bouncing like crazy, and I'm dying to grab it to make it stop. But it’s not the foot that’s bothering me. I think whatever I saw by the diner was responsible for the flat tire and wanted us to meet the redhead across from me.

Taylor asks, "So do you guys know much about tree farms?"

The thud of her foot hits the floor as Sierra moves to perch herself on the edge of her chair and lean closer to Taylor. "What? No, why?"

The smell of cut pine comes to me, and pieces of my dreams fall into place.

Taylor says, "Because that's where we need to go. We're supposed to move to a tree farm."

Sierra asks, "What's a tree farm?"

"Where they grow trees for harvesting wood, saplings for landscaping, and even Christmas trees."

A vision of elves and presents flash before my eyes. But they’re quickly replaced by a bear with glistening white teeth and blood. My palms get clammy as I recall the pain in my dream of being shredded to pieces.
Good God, are we walking into a fairy tale? Or a horror story?