“He does.” Pop used the present tense as Dad did because Bodie existed somewhere in the universe, though sadly not here with his family.
“Raff says you make good pie.” Rupert was in the kitchen and eyeing what Dad had in the oven.
Everyone laughed, and that chased the lingering sadness out of the house, at least for now.
“I do. Would you like some when it’s done?”
Rupert nodded and grabbed a plate from the pile on the island.
After devouring a piece of pie, Rupert asked to see Bodie’s room. Dad escorted him, and Thorne and I stayed with Pop. This was a Dad moment between just the three of them.
During lunch, Dad and Thorne discussed cooking techniques. I zoned out because that wasn’t my thing. Pop chatted to Rupert about the subjects he liked at school. They talked about flamingos and their ability to change color based on their diet.
Rupert picked up one of the photos he’d looked at earlier. “It's weird that my dad looked just like you.”
“We were twins. We had the same face, but we were different inside.”
“Which one of you was funnier?”
“He was.” I braced myself for Rupert to tell everyone I wasn’t funny at all. But he didn’t, and Dad reached under the table and squeezed my hand.
“Can I see you shiftnow, please?”
“Okay, but you’ll see bare butts.”
He shrugged. “So?”
I led everyone into the backyard which bordered the tree line. This was where Bodie and I had taken our first shifts as kids.
Hurry. I want to meet him.
I removed my clothes and let my wolf take his fur. He faced Rupert and sat. My nephew’s face registered joy and excitement, and he bounced on his feet.
“You’re a wolf,” he screeched.
Thorne and my folks put a finger to their lips. Our neighbors were shifters and no human would pay attention to a kid yelling someone had turned into a wolf. But it was a lesson he needed to learn, that shifters were a secret from humans.
Pop shifted next. His wolf was bigger than mine, and he padded over to Rupert who touched the beast’s fur.
“You're so soft.” He giggled.
Dad went last. His wolf nudged his way between Pop and me until he was in front of his grandson. He lowered his head and pressed his nose against Rupert's chest over his heart.
“Is he smelling me?” Rupert looked at Thorne because there was no one else to ask.
“My guess is he’s saying hello.”
“Hi. I’m Rupert.” He lowered his voice and leaned in close. “And I want to be a wolf too when I grow up.”
Dad's wolf’s ears pricked. He sniffed Rupert and looked at me. He glanced at Pop. My parents had scented Bodie on Rupert, but now the three beasts had too. My brother’s scent was embedded in their memories.
Rupert said into my fur. “Do you think I will be a wolf?”
My wolf couldn't answer him, but I bumped my nose against his shoulder, and he giggled and reached out to pat me with his free hand.
We shifted back, and Rupert announced it was the best day of his life. He asked whether wolves could eat pizza and if shifting hurt and could he ride on one of us next time. Pop told him yes to the pizza, no to the hurting, and no to the riding.
By late afternoon. Rupert was asleep on the couch with the flamingo tucked under his arm, and Thorne was loading the car with food Dad had given us.
