Secrets in the Sand by Carolyn Brown

            She had the added secret weapon of snark, but he had to give her that advantage. He’d been absent when she needed him, so she’d learned to take care of herself, then kicked him to the curb when he lost everything. He understood her grievance and was willing to pay the price, but still, it stung. “Would you like a drink?”

            Melissa kicked off her red-soled high heels and flung herself onto his new gray couch. “What’ve you got?”

            He opened the refrigerator. “OJ, Coke, and V8.”

            “I won’t be here that long. I just wanted to see where Sean will be staying next weekend, if he decides to come.”

            If he decides to come. As if the kid would have any choice if his mother even pretended to uphold the court’s visitation ruling. Quinn popped the top on a V8 and sucked it down, then tossed the empty can into the trash. He knew better than to engage, but his ability to maintain detachment had its limits. “Feel free to look around.”

            “Already did that, thanks.” She slipped into her shoes and stood. “Can’t say I approve of all the prepackaged food in your cupboards, but I guess it won’t kill him to eat junk a few days out of the month.”

            Quinn bit back a scathing comment. Proud he’d managed to keep his fool mouth shut, he followed her out and watched her wobble across the gravel in her high heels, then slide into a shiny, red BMW M6 convertible and drive away.

            ***

            Wolf watched the man walk around the corner of the house and stand by the frog pool, his shoulders slumped, his energy deflated. Wolf hid under the hedge fence that enclosed the farm with its locked gate and all the tasty animal smells. The man glanced in his direction, and Wolf lowered himself to the ground, blending with the leaf clutter beneath the hedge’s straggling branches.

            The human didn’t seem threatening now; not like he had earlier today when he yelled at the panicked donkey who had trespassed. Wolf had watched the commotion from a thicket of brush, ready to defend his new friend Georgia.

            But he had made a terrible mistake before by protecting his family when his help wasn’t welcome. He hoped his family would return for him, but he didn’t deserve it yet. He had to reconcile the two halves of his nature and understand what his human family expected of him, even if it didn’t make sense.

            He didn’t know exactly what he’d done wrong. The whole messy situation had become jumbled in his memory. But even though the details of the incident had blurred in his mind, the ultimate conclusion remained crystal clear.

            Out of love, he had made a mistake.

            That meant love was dangerous.

            Birds flitted among the leaves above his head; a bright-red pair scolded him from the nest they were building. When the man went inside, Wolf would catch one of those birds and fill his shrinking belly. He made that promise to his growling stomach. Then he closed his eyes and brought his energy down low so the man wouldn’t sense him lying in wait for a chance to drink, and maybe also to eat.

            Every evening, Wolf drank from the green pool and caught frogs to eat. The bitter taste of frog skin turned his saliva to foam, but the meat and bones and entrails tasted no different from that of a rabbit or rat or mouse. Wolf hardly remembered the taste of the crunchy kibble he had eaten at home.

            The wind shifted, a warm breeze blowing along the ground. Wolf lifted his nose and caught the scent of rabbits behind the fence. He had searched for a way in, but failed. He could have snagged a small goat this morning while the fence was down. But the people would have seen him, and humans had strange attitudes about which animals were okay to eat and which were off-limits.

            Safety lay in hunting only at night when people hid behind solid walls and dark windows. Light windows meant people might still venture outside. Dark windows meant they would stay inside until morning. Wolf’s hungry stomach made it hard to wait for safety, but he knew he must.

            By the time the man went inside, the birds had flown into a tall tree. Wolf crawled low along the hedge, ran to the green pool to satisfy his thirst with a few quick laps, then streaked across the road to his hiding place in the cat’s-claw forest. In the cool, green shade, he sprawled on his side, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to silence his hunger. Tonight, when the sun slipped over the horizon, he would hunt.





Chapter 5


            That evening, with chores done, Reva’s text responded to, and a pound cake baked, Abby assembled her peace offerings in an old wicker basket that she’d found stashed among others above her aunt’s kitchen cabinets. A bottle of sparkling cider paired with two cheap wineglasses from Dollar Tree; cheese, olives, and fancy crackers; the pound cake wrapped in a new dish towel and tied with twine; and as promised, a chocolate-chip granola bar.