Savage (12 page)

He started to speak. Then he grimaced and shook his head. Shadows ringed his eyes and he balled his fists as if just standing there with her was a monumental effort. She stood her ground, waiting for an answer.

Finally he said, “Katelyn, please, just trust me.”

He was scaring her. “Trust you how? To do what? And I guess with the way you’re acting, the better question is why? Why should I trust you?”

“Because you have to trust somebody. And it sure the hell better not be Justin Fenner.”

She went cold.
He doesn’t know
, she told herself.
He’s just jealous of Justin in a guy way
.

Trick brushed past her and headed for the entrance of their gingerbread-house school. In shock, Katelyn watched him walk away.

She whispered at his back, “Please trust me, too.”

The snow bucketed for the next hour, drifts piling against the doors so fast that teachers took up shovels to keep them clear. Kids began to chat eagerly about snow days and a cheer rose up when classes ended early so they wouldn’t be stuck there overnight. Katelyn tromped with the others to her car, her friend Paulette giving her a tutorial in how to rock it free of the snow as Katelyn looked everywhere for Trick.

“Good thing you have four-wheel-drive,” Paulette said.

Katelyn paid her scant attention. Around them, students were checking the chains on their tires and making plans to get together. She lingered, hoping for one more shot at talking to Trick,
really
talking, but there was no sign of him. Snow began to pile on his Mustang, and she gave up. As she climbed behind the wheel Justin called and told her the snow was a good thing, giving her another reason to steer clear of the pack.

“Folks have been asking after you,” he said. “Where you stand. If you want to issue a challenge. Come full moon, decisions will be made. And you and I need to talk way before then.”

“Okay,” she said vaguely, scanning the lot one more time for Trick as the last trickle of kids emerged from the school. “Wait. What?”

“Be ready,” Justin said, and then he hung up.

She scowled through the windshield and turned on her wipers. They did nothing to clear away the icy build-up. She got out, shin-deep in the snow, and used her scraper. She winced at the grating sound and got back in. Her grandfather called and she assured him that she would hurry as fast as she could.

She joined the exodus out of the school lot. Trick’s car was still there. She reminded herself that Trick had always kept secrets from her, and that he was unpredictable. She shouldn’t be disappointed that he was staying true to form. Cordelia had warned her to steer clear of him from the beginning. But she thought they’d reached a place where it was different between the two of them. Where Trick let her in.

But I can’t let him in
, she thought.
I’ve just been kidding myself. It would never work.

Wolf Springs was barely visible out her windows. She reached the forest and drove slowly. There was so much snow that it reminded her of a tide washing over her. The world was white. She didn’t know how she would ever get home.

She inched along until yellow beams pointed straight at her, then blinked. She stopped the car, barely able to make out the shape of a truck, someone getting out of it and walking toward her.

Katelyn reached under her seat for her gun and put her hand around it. When there was a knock on her window, she realized she couldn’t unroll it and cracked open the door instead.

“Katie, it’s me,” said her grandfather. “I’ve come to get you. We can leave your car here.”

She was touched beyond words. After having been utterly ignored by Trick, she appreciated the sweetness of his gesture even more.

But if she took him up on it, she would be stuck at the cabin without her own transportation. She smiled at him and said, “Thank you so much, Grandpa. This is so sweet. I’ll follow you. Okay? I can do it.”

It was obviously too cold to argue with her. He got back in his truck and drove slowly. She kept his taillights in her view, and together they made the tortuous drive back to the cabin. She was exhausted by the time they went inside, to find the fireplace blazing and lanterns and candles flickering everywhere.

“Power’s out,” he said. “I’ve got the generator going, but we’ve got to conserve. Blizzard’s coming.”

“Coming?” she echoed. “It’s not here?”

“Nope,” he replied, and he smiled at her. Actually smiled. “Just you wait.”

She did wait. All night she listened to the banshee howling of the wind, and the fierce pounding of the snow on the roof. Her grandfather had covered her skylight with a storm window and she huddled in her room, staring at the NO SERVICE message on her phone. They were cut off. Isolated.

“Snowed in,” her grandfather announced in the morning, inexplicably pleased.

“How long?” she asked, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.

“Could be a couple of days. Could be a couple of weeks.”

Trapped, maybe even until the full moon. Katelyn clutched her phone.

NO SERVICE.

And the walls closed in.

8

“
SO, HOW ABOUT
some hot chocolate and some board games to kick this winter off right?” her grandfather asked cheerfully.

“How can you be so happy?” she asked. “This is . . .” She trailed off as his shy smile broadened.

“I’ve never much minded being snowed in. It’s a beautiful time of the year. But I have to admit, this year it’s special. I’ve got someone other than myself to share it with.”

He wasn’t joking. His eyes were twinkling. He was positively grinning. Part of her began to respond.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And if it was only a couple of days then everything would be okay. “Yes to the board games and an even bigger yes to the cocoa,” she said, and was rewarded by an even bigger grin from Ed.

Grandpa
, she reminded herself.

He trounced her in Monopoly in what had to be the fastest game in recorded history. When they switched to Scrabble she struggled to hold her own, and surprised even him with how inventive she got with some of her words. By the time they moved on to Trivial Pursuit they were evenly matched and she found that she was really starting to have fun.

Doubts and fears about him, the storm, even herself, slowly began to fade away as they chatted and played. Still, part of her knew that she should use the time to get information out of him. She was hesitant to do so, though, because they were both having a good day and who knew how long they were going to be stuck together?

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said. Then, more softly, “Missing your mom?”

“Missing them both,” she replied.

“Your dad was a good man, focused, and dedicated. Stubborn to a fault. Once he set his mind on something, there was no dissuading him.”

“That I do remember,” Katelyn said, feeling a bit wistful. “I remember I got this swing set for Christmas. I was like three, and it had like a million pieces, and Mom kept telling him that we could wait and get the handyman who lived on our block to put it together. But he just kept insisting he could do it himself. It took all day, Christmas dinner got cold, and Mom was furious with him. Then he worked all night on it, but he finally got it done.”

Her grandfather chuckled. “I remember. I was there.”

“You were?” She didn’t remember him, and low-grade anxiety played across her shoulder blades. It was too late to keep her grandfather out of her father’s life. It was done.

“Yup. Who do you think gave you the swing set?”

“You? Oh, thank you! Thank you so much. I played on those monkey bars constantly. It helped give me my first taste of gymnastics.” She put her hand around her cocoa mug, letting the warmth penetrate her bones. “You started my dream of joining the Cirque du Soleil.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” he said with a grunt as he straightened up the stack of Trivial Pursuit cards. “But you want to hear a secret?”

“Sure.”

“Your parents had suggested a much smaller swing set, one without all the monkey bars and everything.”

“And you got me the big one? That’s so awesome! How come?”

“I knew you’d love it, of course, but, to be honest, I wanted to watch him put that thing together. I never laughed so hard in my life as when he put half of it up backward and had to start over.”

“Grandpa!” she cried, batting at his hand. He yanked it out of her reach.

“Yup, your dad was like a dog with a bone when he got his teeth into something. He just wouldn’t let go for love or money.”

He took a sip of cocoa and more walls crumbled. It was a flash of humor that she rarely got to see. Plus, she owed her own dreams to him, even if it had all started out as a prank on her father.

“I used to embarrass the heck out of him,” he added. “He traipsed off to the big city to go to college and I’d show up in Los Angeles and put on my best Ozarks accent. His hick daddy, as backwoods as they come. He wouldn’t be able to convince any of his frat brothers that I had a PhD until he showed them proof in black and white. When he met your mama, he told me he’d pay me twenty bucks to speak like a normal human being around her.”

He guffawed and she grinned at him. Shadows of memories darkened her own mood; she wanted to talk about the night her father died. But she couldn’t make herself bring up anything that might hurt either of them. Trick was right; her grandfather was her only family. The phones were out, and it was just the two of them. It was a good time. She wanted to cherish it while she could.

The second day brought back a twinge of concern as the storm continued to rage. The snow fell in cascades. She’d never lived in the cold before, and had always pictured snow as soft, fluffy whipped cream. But it was wet and cold and heavy. They played more games and drank more cocoa and she tried to shut out her fears, but they kept gnawing at her. They played more board games and talked about going somewhere on her spring break. She knew she would have to check in with Justin and the pack, and see when the full moon would rise. Her grandfather noticed her seeming lack of enthusiasm.

“Katie? Is something wrong?” he asked.

It was the perfect moment to ask him some questions.

“Grandpa,” she said, and then she exhaled and shook her head. She couldn’t bear to ruin the moment. “I’m good.”

“The snow will melt,” he said, patting her. “And we have lots of food. We’re fine. We’re safe.”

“I know,” she said.

By the third day, anxiety had taken firm hold. When it stopped snowing mid-afternoon, she struggled to hide her hope that soon life could return to normal.

On the fourth morning her grandfather came inside after stamping his feet on the porch. He didn’t look pleased.

“How does it look out there?” she asked, holding her breath for the answer.

“The snow’s melting. You’ll probably be able to drive fine by tomorrow,” he said.

Mingled with her relief was a flash of sorrow. As worried as she’d been, this had been the most fun she’d had with him since she was a little girl. The more time they spent together, the more she caught fleeting memories of being with him when she was young. There was a trip where he had come out to visit them when she was five and they had all gone to Disneyland together. He’d held her hand when they’d gone down the waterfall in the Pirates of the Caribbean and she hadn’t been afraid of the pirates because she knew her grandfather could kill them all singlehandedly.

Who knew, maybe he could have. But no one was living in a fantasy world these days. The world was stranger and crueler than she could have imagined.

And the sweet space of time where they had been like a normal grandfather and granddaughter was melting like the snow. It was time to return to that more brutal world.

To ask him what he knew about the night her father had died.

Her mind cast back, remembering. Her dad had been late coming home, and he’d been coming home progressively later for a long time. He’d said he was working on something big, something important.

Her mom always set a place for him every night at the table anyway. “Just in case,” she said, every time Katelyn asked her why.