Page 35 of His Lucky Charm

“And bedtime immediately after,” I called after her. “No negotiations.”

The sound of childish giggles was the only response.

My mother patted my arm sympathetically. “Good luck with that. She’s been talking about the party all day. I’ve packed her overnight bag for my house—figured you two might want some alone time after the celebration.”

Rafferty’s arm slid around my waist. “Thanks, Catherine. Always thinking ahead.”

“Someone has to.” She smiled knowingly. “I’ll take her home with me after the cake. You can pick her up tomorrow afternoon.”

The arrangement was familiar—my mother’s subtle support of our need for occasional child-free evenings, particularly after my trips away. It was one of countless ways she’d adapted to our unconventional family, finding her place within the complex web of human and Guardian relationships.

After a quick snack (one cookie for Abigail, coffee for the adults), we began preparations for the evening’s celebration. Siobhan’s birthday was a major event in the pack calendar—not just for family reasons, but because she’d recently been named Rafferty’s official Second, a position of significant authority.

“Bath time, little wolf,” Rafferty announced, scooping up our daughter who immediately began negotiations.

“No bath! Just party!”

“Bath first, then party,” he countered, unswayed by her protests. “Pack leaders need to be clean and sweet-smelling.”

“Not leader yet,” she pointed out with disconcerting precision for a two-year-old. “Still little.”

“Leaders-in-training, then,” he amended, carrying her toward the bathroom. “Papa will help me pick your party dress while you get clean.”

With Rafferty handling bath duty, I retreated to our bedroom to change from my lecture attire into something more suitable for a pack gathering. My mother followed, ostensibly to help select Abigail’s outfit but clearly with conversation in mind.

“So,” she began, settling on the edge of our bed. “Early shifting. That’s… significant?”

I nodded, selecting a casual but pack-appropriate outfit from the closet. “It can be. Most Guardian children don’t manifest traits until school age. Early shifting often indicates stronger abilities.”

“Is that good or challenging?” Her question was careful, thoughtful.

“Both,” I admitted, changing quickly. “It means she’s likely to have greater control eventually, but the learning curve will be steeper. We’ll need to be vigilant about situations where she might inadvertently reveal herself.”

My mother nodded, processing this latest adjustment to her worldview. “And the pack? How will they respond?”

“With support,” I assured her. “Guardian children are raised collectively, in many ways. Everyone contributes to their development and control.”

“It takes a village, even for werewolves,” she mused. “Some things are universal, I suppose.”

I smiled at her pragmatism. “Indeed they are.”

A shriek of laughter from the bathroom suggested bath time had taken an entertaining turn. My mother and I exchanged knowing looks.

“He’s wonderful with her,” she observed. “I never would have expected such patience from someone so…”

“Large? Intimidating? Occasionally furry?” I supplied.

“I was going to say ‘energetic,’” she corrected dryly. “But yes, all of those too.”

I selected a small green dress from Abigail’s section of the closet—her “pack party” outfit, complete with embroidery that subtly incorporated the Guardian symbol. “He had good examples. Guardian culture emphasizes child-rearing as a communal responsibility. Males are as involved as females.”

“Progressive for a species that runs through forests howling at the moon,” she noted with the hint of sarcasm that told me she was entirely comfortable with our situation.

Before I could respond, Rafferty appeared in the doorway with a towel-wrapped, giggling bundle. “One clean cub, as requested. Though the bathroom might need professional restoration.”

“Again?” I sighed, though I couldn’t suppress my smile at the sight of them—my massive, powerful husband cradling our daughter with infinite gentleness. “What was it this time? Splash war? Bubble rebellion?”

“She may have attempted a partial shift while fully submerged,” he admitted sheepishly. “The physics of suddenly larger paws and water displacement is… educational.”