Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Your father never trusted me with you.

  (Small Fry Ch 1)

            Declan cracked several eggs in a glass bowl and proceeded to beat them so hard, the whisk made a squealing sound against the sides.  I watched him add the other ingredients for pancakes, as he prepared them by memory.  He was such an old hand at this, he continued to cook as he talked.

            “When it was just me and Finn working at the Garage; we would be leaning over a vehicle and he'd say as casual as can be, ‘So Declan, do you like soccer?’ I wouldn’t look up as I'd be in the middle of something and I'd reply, ‘Yeah I like it fine.’  Then Finn would say, ‘I was wondering why you kept watching the other kids play.  Here I was thinking it could be over a girl instead, who just happened to be running around the field with your little brother.’  In surprise, I dropped the wrench into the motor and hit my head on the hood!”

            I cracked up laughing, as I could very well imagine the late Finn with his cheeky sense of humor, bringing it up like that.

            My husband chuckled, “He'd only talk about it when we were alone.  Sometimes in summer, during the long daylight hours when the bloodlust was making me restless, we would stay up until midnight repairing engines.  It was when we talked the most.  He'd sneakily bring you up by suddenly asking, ‘So how’s your spectator sport going?’ We'd talk about you in the third person without actually saying your name.  We always referred to you as ‘that girl who liked playing soccer’.”

            I felt myself blush, as I hopped back up onto the bench to sit and listen.  He finished off the pancake mix and left it on the bench.  Then I watched him pull out another frying pan from one of the cupboards, to cook it in.

            He went on, “When the truth came out about us and we first moved in together?  Finn gave me an early mark every day for two months, so I could come home to you sooner.  When I felt embarrassed at the favouritism he was showing, he said in front of the whole crew, ‘You’ve done the hard work, Declan.  Now it’s time to enjoy the fruits of your labours’.”

            “Finn said that?”  I asked, touched.

            “Finn, my Mom and your Mom then your grandparents, seemed like the only people who didn’t have a problem with our coupling.” He said in irritation.  “I felt your Dad and Ian’s uneasiness for years.  Your father never trusted me with you.  If you had become pregnant by me at that time, your father would have had the same reservations that I spoke of; what carrying a European Werewolf could do to you.”



Friday, September 6, 2013

They met to talk about the tribe’s first female Lokoti Werewolf, who was also a Circulator.

  (Small Fry Chapter 1)


            “Man, I feel like an idiot.”  He shook his head at himself.

            “Why?” I looked on closely.

            “We could have done this ages ago!”  He sounded annoyed with himself.  “Just imagine what it could have been like, if this happened 273 years before.  We could have started a family then, if I let you turn me into a Circulator sooner.  My Mom would have been thrilled for us, if she were here.  I wish I could have seen my human mother hold my daughter, before she died of old age.”

            I felt a strong sense of longing inside of him as he pictured this.  Then he let go of his wife to continue with cooking.  I leaned against the kitchen bench as I watched and listened.

            “Derik got to have the happy family life, with the wife and kids.  He gave my Mom two grandchildren, whom she loved to death.  I just wish that I could have done the same.  I wish that the pack hadn’t feared the idea of me creating more European Werewolves, in the forms of children.  I wish that your father trusted me enough to take care of you.”

            This made my chest ache as I felt these old wounds of his, never healed.  His expression was more than wistful, it was a mask of pain.  He momentarily looked away from the food to meet my waiting gaze.

            He recanted bitterly, “I remember the meeting the pack had with the Council of Tribal Elders, like it was only yesterday.  They met to talk about the tribe’s first female Lokoti Werewolf, who was also a Circulator.  Your Dad was beside himself with worry, he was scared that you might escape with your greater speed and kill a human.  Then it was a Tribal Elder that came up with the idea of mating you to another Werewolf, who could stop you from craving human as well as help your training.  Then everyone immediately looked at Grant, like I was invisible or something.  Nobody glanced my way, much less thought of me as a possible suitor.  When I spoke up by reminding everyone that it had been me who had stopped you from crossing the border of Lokoti land?  Your Dad put a stop to it immediately.  Hunter Wisetail walked over to stand beside his best friend Ian Elm and his brother Grant, and said that a female Lokoti Werewolf should be mated to a male Lokoti Werewolf.  Of course the Tribal Elders all liked the sound of that.” 

            I heard the jealousy in Declan’s voice which never faded, even after 279 years.

            “You mean Grant wasn’t asked?” I frowned.  “When I first found out about the arranged marriage, he told me he had been asked.”

            “Yeah he was formally asked at the meeting, by the Tribal Elders.  But with your aura and your pheromones, they may as well as have announced that he'd won the lottery!”  He snorted.  “I’m sure my feelings for you were suspected, even if they weren’t spoken of.  Finn and your Grandfather made mention of them, just a couple of times.  But they both knew I had to keep my distance before your change.”

            I watched him slap the bacon bad-temperedly into the frying pan which instantly began to sizzle, before he threw in a couple of hashbrowns too.

            “Finn and Grandfather knew?” I echoed in surprise.

            Back then I thought our forbidden love had been a secret?

            “At dinner at your grandparents house one night, when I was eighteen and you would have been fifteen years old; you walked off angry after one of our fights.  Your Grandfather caught the expression on my face and gave me a close look.  He asked, 'enjoying those sparks, Declan?'  That was the only thing he ever said about it, as he probably thought I was just attracted to your aura.”  He explained.