Dustin held him while he cried, murmuring, “You’ll come back one day. And when you do, I’ll still be here—waiting.” He reached into his pocket and then pressed something into Seth’s palm.
Through a glaze of tears, Seth stared at his friend’s prized possession. “I can’t take your lucky arrowhead. What will you do without your luck?”
“You need luck right now worse than I do, I reckon. Maybe it’ll make you lucky enough to get to stay.”
The arrowhead didn’t work.
The next morning Auntie Irene woke Seth early and made his favorite pancakes, served with homemade blackberry syrup. She didn’t smile or sing like usual, and the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown.
Seth finally worked up enough nerve to ask, “Am I in trouble?”
Auntie looked up from the fork she pushed around her plate, rearranging her meal without actually eating. “In trouble? What on earth gave you that idea?”
“I dunno.” Seth shrugged. “You don’t look happy, and when I’m bad I make you sad.”
“Oh, you sweet boy. You sweet, sweet boy. No, you haven’t done anything wrong.” She dropped her fork to the plate with a clatter and scooped Seth into her arms, sniffling into his hair. “Oh, baby. I love you so much. Never forgetthat. Promise me.”
“I promise, Auntie.”
A car horn sounded outside and Auntie Irene straightened, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “Your grandmother is here. We have to get you ready to go.”
“Go? Why can’t I stay here with you?”
“I want you to, but you can’t. You have to go with your grandmother.”
Panic seized Seth’s heart. “Why, Auntie? I don’t want to go! I wanna stay here with you and Dustin! I’ll be good, I promise! Please don’t make me go! Please!” Tears flooded his eyes, spilling over onto his cheeks.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I really am. But you have to go.”
Nothing more was said as they loaded Seth’s suitcases into Nana’s rental car. Auntie dropped to her knees and pulled him close one more time, squeezing the breath out of him. “I love you, sweetie,” she whispered into his hair. She buried her face in his neck, whiffing deeply.
“Love you too, Auntie,” he mumbled weakly, his heart about to split in two.
Auntie Irene released her hold and stood, giving Seth a strained smile. Nana bustled him into the car, ignoring Seth’s, “No! I wanna stay here! I don’t wanna go!”
Nana kicked up dust from the red Georgia clay in her hurry to get to the Atlanta airport. Seth spotted Dustin on the side of the road on his bicycle as they whizzed by. Dustin turned when he saw the car, pumping the pedals to try to keep up. Through the back window, Seth watched a copper-crowned head growing smaller and smaller, finally fading from view. He didn’t stop crying until he reached Chicago.
Chapter 1
DR. DUSTINLIVINGSTONfinished his shower, slightly amused at the
irony of showering and grooming when in a few hours he’d be ambling on four legs through weeds, hunting earthworms and other munchable critters, and exploring vacant burrows. “If you’re going to act like an animal, at least be civilized about it,” his mother always said. Of course, his mother would likely root around the yard of her Florida retirement home tonight too.
He missed his mother, yet missed his dad more, for a simple phone call connected him with Mom, but Dad was beyond reaching out to now. Dustin sighed. After tonight, he’d have one more person to miss, one who directly affected the path of his future.
Since his birth, Irene McDaniel had played a huge role in his life: mentor, leader, teacher, friend. Tonight would be her last. After far more years than most folks realized, her strength had reached an end. She’d not survive another full moon.
Heart heavy, he drove to Irene’s in silence. Several cars crowded the yard of the old woman’s farmhouse, and Monica Sims’s beat-up Silverado proved a welcome sight. He’d need her support tonight.
He parked next to Monica’s truck and entered the house he’d practically grown up in, his eyes automatically landing on the photos displayed on the mantel. By rights, Irene’s great-nephew should assume the torch at her passing, but Seth McDaniel hadn’t darkened her door in twenty years. Out of long habit, Dustin paused a moment by Seth’s picture, a knife twisting in his heart. Damn, but he wished his childhood friend were here.
Through a crowd much too large for even the spacious farmhouse, Dustin sought out a familiar blonde. He found her in the kitchen. Normally Monica kept her thigh-length tresses bound in neat braids, but not tonight. Tonight her hair, like the woman, would run free, golden waves flowing over her broad shoulders. Even without the beacon of her shiny locks, the six-foot nursing assistant towered head and shoulders over many gathered tonight.
She noticed Dustin and fought her way through the crowd, pressing her lips tightly together.
“Hey!” shouted a red-faced man, industriously slapping sandwiches together in an assembly line for a woman to place on the floor. “Mine’s the one with mustard and pimiento. Don’t step on it!”
Monica ignored him. Every eye turned to her, even while young and old scrambled out of the way of a woman on a mission. “The tension in here’s so thick you can cut it with a knife,” she said after finally elbowing her way to Dustin’s side.
