Hope(less) (2 page)

Keeping his gaze locked with mine, he said, “You may not be
a werewolf, but you are still special.  How old are you?”

At five feet five inches, with a slight build and few curves
to speak of, I looked young.  The freckles sprinkling my nose didn’t help me
look any older either.

“Sixteen,” I answered absently.  “How exactly am I special?”
 I shifted the bag to the other shoulder.

“I was drawn to you.  You have a certain scent that calls to
my kind.  I couldn’t name the smell for you other than to say it’s interesting,
unlike anything else you’ve ever smelled.”

That was the second time he’d mentioned the way I smelled. 
What if I’d been born with more pheromones than the average person?  I’d learn
about them in biology.  Pheromones attracted the opposite sex.  It would
explain the pull I had on men and why it’d grown stronger as I matured.  It didn’t
explain the lights though.

“Is that why guys don’t leave me alone?”

He sat forward too quickly for my comfort, and I eyed him
warily.  “What do you mean?  What guys?” he asked.  When he moved like that, he
looked a lot younger than his grey hair and weathered skin indicated.

Although he kept his tone light, I remained cautious.  “Guys
under sixty and boys over ten.”

He settled back with a laugh, but didn’t try to coax me to
sit again.  “Well, you’re young and pretty so I’m sure it’s not unusual for men
to be attracted to you, dear.”

He’d said it easily and without infliction, as if he’d make
an observation and stated a fact, not that he found me attractive.  I’d noticed
that about him when I’d bumped into him at the hospital as well.  That meant,
if he didn’t already know about my gift, he may not understand.  Part of me
deflated a little.  Should I try explaining it?  If I smelled different to his
kind, it might still relate to my gifts.  Explaining further might be worth the
risk.  Besides, he could hardly run around telling people that I had special
abilities when he’d just turned into a wolf in front of me.

I took a step closer and said earnestly, “No, it’s more than
that…” I paused trying to gather my thoughts for the best explanation.  “A boy
in school, extremely shy, picked on by jocks to the point of physical cruelty,
nudged past those same jocks to wait by my locker to ask me on a date.  A man
shopping with two kids stopped me in the grocery store to ask if I’d consider
dating an older man once I turned eighteen.  The eighteen bit he threw in after
my foster mom gasped in shock.”  I inched closer, becoming more animated as I
spoke, trying to make him understand.  “When I turned him down, he went back by
his kids, red faced and whispered to them that he’d just been asking for
grandpa who wanted to date again.  I knew that wasn’t true.

“Those are just examples of what happens to me every day.”

Sam studied me for a moment with a serious expression. 
“What’s your name, dear?”

I knew he’d read my name tag at the hospital the day we’d
first met, but introduced myself again anyway.  “Oh, um, Gabrielle Winters,
officially.”

“Well, Gabby, I don’t know why men act the way they do
around you, but I’d like to help you figure it out.  Few people would believe
what I’ve shown you tonight, and I ask that you not try talking anyone into
believing.  I revealed myself to you because you’re special and worth the
risk.”

He stood and slowly approached me.  With the pond reflecting
dimly behind him and the warm breeze ruffling our hair, I knew that memories of
this night would stay with me for a long time.

When only a few steps separated us, he said, “There is so
much about werewolves that you don’t know.  The first is that I’m not the only
one.”

My heart sank.  I didn’t like the sound of that.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on the
heels of his brown-laced shoes.  “I’d like to meet your foster parents and I’d
like to get to know you better, to be there for you if you ever need anything.”

Even though
I didn’t like knowing more existed, it
made sense.  Was there ever one of anything?  “You said that I smelled good to
your kind.  Does that mean I’m going to be run down by other werewolves?”  The
prospect scared me, but I managed to keep any tremor from my voice.

“It’s unlikely, but precisely why I would like to be
involved in your life.”

He waited quietly while I thought it over, watching him
closely.  I liked that he maintained eye contact.  A refreshing change when the
majority of conversations with men occurred while they tried to discover,
visually, what about me attracted them.

He offered me an opportunity.  With his help, maybe I could
find out the reason behind my abilities.  And given his condition, I felt certain
he’d be able to keep my secret if I decided to tell him about the lights.  Could
I trust him?  Not blindly, but I could start small.

“I’m willing to get to know you better, but I’m not ready
for you to meet my foster parents.”  And I wasn’t sure if I ever would be.  I wanted
to protect Tim and Barb Newton from what could be a monster.  They were the
first set I had that I actually liked.

He nodded in agreement.

If I wasn’t willing to bring him home, then just where would
we get to know each other better?  Dark nights in the park were out, and I had
more brains than to suggest his place.  He still scared me.  Did I think he was
going to hurt me?  No... he had plenty of time to try to hurt me tonight and
hadn’t, but I barely knew the man so anything was possible.  Safety in
numbers.  Somewhere public.  He already knew I volunteered at the hospital
thanks to our run in.

“Let’s meet Wednesday nights at the hospital café.  Around six?”

“That sounds good.  I look forward to seeing you next week
and am truly sorry for scaring you tonight.”  He held out his hand for a
handshake.

I looked at him closely and, not shaking his hand, decided
to go for blunt.  “You’re not going to turn creepy uncle on me, are you, Sam?” 
I honestly didn’t know if I feared that more than a mauling, and didn’t expect
him to admit it if he did have that planned.  I just wanted to see his reaction
to the question.

He barked out a laugh, dropping his hand back to his side. 
When he saw I remained serious, he sobered and said, “I suppose that’s a fair
question, given what you’ve just told me.  With me, you’re safe.”

At my steady gaze, he further clarified.  “Honey, I’m older
than I look.  Heck, I’m probably old enough to be your great grandfather.”  He
looked at me for a moment.  I mean really looked at me, studying my face as if
he could read all my secrets there.  With a sigh, he ran his hand through his
hair saying, “When I look at you, I see a young girl I want to help.  I see a
grandchild I could have had if only I’d met my one and only.  And I see hope.”

Fair enough.  I’d wait until next week to pass any further
judgments.

“Alright, then.  I’ve got to get home.  See you next week.”

He nodded his good bye.

Reluctantly, I turned my back on him.  Fear skittered along
my spine as I walked away, feet whispering through the grass until I reached
the paved walk.  When I looked back, he no longer stood by the pond, but I’d monitored
his progress with my sight as he left the park, heading west, now that I knew
what to look for.

My already complicated life had just gotten more so.  I took
a huge risk meeting with a complete stranger, but how could I refuse?  Learning
about him and his kind might give me more insight, if not actual answers about
my abilities.  They’d caused me so much grief over the years that I really
wanted an explanation.

When I got home, it was later than I thought.  Barb and Tim waited
for me in the kitchen.

When I walked in, they fed me dinner sitting at the table
with me while I explained what kept me.  I didn’t mention a werewolf, just an
old friend of my grandfather who I’d bumped into.

I mentioned my plans to meet up with him at the hospital
next week to talk some more.  Barb looked at Tim with worry a moment before Tim
asked when they’d get to meet him.  I asked for their patience, saying I wanted
to get to know Sam again first.

*   
*    *    *

Three weeks later, I exited the sliding glass hospital doors
with Sam walking beside me.  We both eyed the dark clouds.  The charged air
filled me with anticipation.  The imminent downpour cleared the usually
bustling sidewalks.

I turned to Sam, “What do you think?  Still want to go?  We
will probably get wet.”

Sam, dressed in his unusually trendy attire for an old guy,
continued to study the sky as we walked toward the bus stop.

He had been kind and informative the first two meetings. 
Telling me as much as he could in such a public place about his “relatives” in
the hour I allotted for our meetings.

Typically wary of outsiders, many of his kind chose to live
in a closed community across the Canadian border.  The rural population allowed
them more space to roam as they wanted.  Although remote, a few of the
community’s members ventured out to find work in nearby towns, supplementing
the income needed to support their not fully self-sufficient way of life.

Since the “marriage” of their leader - he’d hesitated using
the term marriage - more than twenty years ago some of his “relatives” had
branched out further to better acquaint themselves with society.  Recently,
he’d been sent even further from the community to get the lay of the land in a
more urban setting.

Trying to blend, he’d decided he needed to dress more like
the people of the area.  At that point in his narrative, I’d wondered what he’d
been wearing.  Furs?  Anyway, when he’d gone shopping, he’d asked a sales
clerk’s advice regarding what to buy.  The sales clerk had been about my age.  It
explained Sam’s trendy choice of clothes.

After the marriage of their leader, they began to realize
they’d slipped too far from society and started making other adjustments as
well.  Several of the structures in the community needed remodeling and
collectively, his “relatives” just didn’t have the money for it.

A few of the men not yet “married,” again he hesitated to
use the word, had been sent out looking for work, and when the leader’s sons
were old enough, they too were sent out.  The leader’s wife showed them that
the path they’d been on would lead to nothing but the ruination of his family. 
Their only choice to survive was to adapt.

It amazed me how much I’d learned about the man walking next
to me just by sitting and listening to him talk.  The way he’d spoken with such
compassion for his people’s plight impressed upon me his selflessness. 
Watching him interact with other people around us, showed he had a sense of
humor.  Those defining characteristics that had decided it for me - it was time
to introduce him to Tim and Barb.

We’d reached the bus stop without a drop of rain.

“A little rain ever hurt anyone,” he said answering my
earlier question.

Another thing I liked about Sam.  He sensed when I was lost
in my own thoughts and let me to it.

I nodded and said, “Okay, I’ll text Barb and let her know
you’ll be coming over.  They’ve been asking about you every week.”  When he
looked at me questioningly, I explained, “I mentioned you that first night we
met in the park.  They wanted to know why I was late.  I said I ran into an old
acquaintance, a friend of my grandfathers.”

A city bus, this one advertising a new restaurant, drew to a
halt in front of the sheltered bus stop.  Taking my lead, Sam waited for the
other passengers to board.  He surprised me by pulling out his own city bus
pass to pay.  The familiar driver looked at me curiously when I took my normal
place behind him and slid over on the worn grey vinyl seat to make room for Sam.

Sam and I didn’t talk much on the way home with the driver
constantly looking back at us.  Instead, I watched out the window, waiting
expectantly for the rain to start pouring down.

At our stop, Sam stood and exited.  He didn’t offer me his
hand.  He just waited for me to hop down from the last step and then fell in
beside me as we made our way down the paved park path.

After only knowing me a short while, he knew I didn’t like
to be touched.  It wasn’t even that I didn’t like being touched.  I didn’t like
growing attached.  When you touched people, you developed attachments.  Then,
when they left, it made it even harder to say goodbye.

Although we still had an hour of daylight left, the dark
storm clouds writhing in the sky above cast the city into an early dusk.  After
he’d revealed himself to me, tension drove me to walk quickly through the
park.  Particularly in the dark.  I liked having someone to walk home with me even
if that someone had started the whole thing.  In his company, I didn’t worry as
much.

“You’re certain I won’t disrupt things at home just popping
in like this?

“I don’t think you can disrupt it any more than it’s been,”
I said.  “Barb, my foster mom is pregnant, which really is a good thing.  Barb
and Tim have been trying to get pregnant for years.  So, thinking they’d never
have kids of their own, they decided to foster.”

We were halfway across the park and I noticed Sam slowing to
give me more time to talk.  I hadn’t mentioned any of this to him before.  The
swings in the abandoned playground to our right started to sway in the
increasing winds, their older chains squeaking slightly with each forward
swing.

“They own a cute little two bedroom house.  If she carries
the baby to term, there won’t be enough room, you know?”  I kept my eyes
focused on the path not wanting to read his expression.  “Because she hasn’t
yet past her first term, they haven’t notified my social worker.”

I had no regret.  I really did feel happy for Barb and Tim
and I’d moved around enough in foster care to know the drill.  Plus, I counted down
the days until I turned eighteen, legally free from anyone’s guardianship.