Bearing My Soul: A Paranormal Werebear Shifter Romance (3 page)

I shrugged, as I fought back more tears. “Just trying to avoid being on the wrong side of a witch hunt, I suppose.”

She gave a feeble laugh. “Look, I don’t want to worry you, but Mom is talking about coming there and making you come back home.”

A cruel fear set it. “She can’t do that,” I objected. “I’m an adult now. Besides, how does she even know where I am?”

Tammy went quiet for a long moment. “You know how she is sometimes, Andrea. I... I didn’t have much choice.”

I clenched my jaw, but said nothing. “I understand. It’s okay,” I finally conceded. “It doesn’t matter. She’ll get arrested for DUI long before she drives this far.”

Tammy chuckled nervously. “So, how’s your life going?”

The entire day poured out, starting with the huge bear in the backyard. Tammy empathized with me about the dangers of bears wandering the yard. Then, I told her about the townspeople. Again, she expressed shock and empathy over the townspeople’s sudden rudeness towards me.

“It sounds to me like maybe you offended that neighbor guy,” Tammy mused. “Then, he turned the town against you somehow.”

“Right,” I chuckled, but I quickly realized she made sense. “Oh, and that’s why everyone is upset with me? Because I pissed Jonathan off and he told them about it?”

“Exactly,” Tammy beamed. “Now, all you have to do is apologize to the neighbor guy...”

“Jonathan,” I interjected.

“Whatever,” she grumbled. “Say you’re sorry and he’ll fix it for you. Problem solved.”

“I don’t even know what I’m saying sorry for!” I objected.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s a guy. I doubt even he knows what he’s pouting about. Just bake him some cookies or... or get him flowers and he’ll adore you again.”

I tried to subdue a warm grin, but it made its way to the surface. “You’re a genius,” I said. “Flowers though?”

“You’d be surprised what guys like,” she laughed.

We talked about her day for a while. She was bored with school and frustrated with family. My mind was already busy thinking about Jonathan. We said our goodbyes and hung up.

With suppressed excitement, I raced around the kitchen. I grabbed flour, eggs, and chocolate chips. In less than an hour, I had a plate of large, warm cookies. The smell was inviting. For the first time since I had arrived, I felt at home. I whistled to myself, as I wrapped up the plate in plastic wrap. The echoes from the barren walls sang back to me.

The night was chilly and I tugged my coat tight around my shoulders. I knocked hard on Jonathan’s door. I was still trying to come up with an apology that sounded sincere, without saying what I had done wrong.

He never answered. At last, I left the cookies on a little table on his front porch. I placed a note on top that simply read: “I’m sorry.”

CHAPTER THREE

Back at home, I stoked the fire and curled up on the sofa. The nights were getting colder. The fireplace never seemed to warm the house. I began to dread the impending winter months. I pulled a blanket from my bed and cuddled tightly, as I enjoyed some of the fresh-baked cookies.

The kitchen windows rattled, as something slammed into them. Startled, I jumped to my feet and braced for the thing to bust through the wall and come after me.

The night fell silent again. I stood in the middle of the room, panicked. I worked to slow my breathing down. Suddenly, I was keenly aware of how exposed and vulnerable I was. Quickly, I shut off the lights and cowered in the shadows. I peered out the kitchen window. In one hand I held a knife, as I searched for whatever wild animal was attacking.

On the back porch, I saw a small creature waddling comically from the garbage cans. Its dark mask was clear in the moonlight.

“Raccoons,” I muttered. Still, I knew it was more than a raccoon that slammed into the windows. It was then I noticed the little animal stop and start to feast on the broken bits that were scattered over the ground. I turned on the back porch light. Pain ripped through me like searing coals.

The world went misty, as tears streamed down over my cheeks and dribbled from my chin. I stepped outside. The raccoon scurried off into the darkness.

I knelt down and picked up each piece of the broken chocolate chip cookies. I caught breaths between heaving sobs. I never looked up to his house, never looked to see if he was watching. I picked up each piece carefully, tenderly, and placed them on a clean plate. I only saw the shattered pieces, nothing more. My body shook. My heart ached, as well. I took the broken pieces inside and kept them safe.

I sat up most of that night with the lights off. I simply stared out the back window. It was dark that night and the world was lost in the blackness. When I finally slept, my head simply slumped to one side.

I awoke with a start and, once again, stared out the back window. It was too dark to see, but I heard the grunts of the bear close to the house. I waited. My breath caught in my chest until it was quiet again. I drifted off again, as I rested on the sofa. The fire had died long ago and it was bitterly cold.

My neck was stiff, as I awoke the next morning. My cheeks were dry from the salty tears. I despondently swept the sleep from my eyes and stumbled into the kitchen for breakfast.

The broken cookies were still on the counter, next to the fresh ones I had saved for myself. I dumped them all into the garbage. I wasn’t hungry for cookies anymore. I watched out the back window, as I had breakfast. As I eyed the path that led into the woods, I glanced around to be certain no one noticed me. The trail remained empty that morning.

After yogurt and toast, I pulled on my work gloves and stepped out into the icy morning. There was a frost on the front lawn. I stopped dead. There weren’t any logs. The firewood was gone.

“Dammit!” I screamed. I bent down to pick up a rock to throw, but couldn’t find one close by. Feeling stupid, I stood back up and stomped back into the house.

“She’s going to blame me!” I screeched. “Some asshole stole the damned wood pile. Now I’m going to freeze this winter. Nobody is going to give a hairy rat’s ass about it, either!”

I grabbed a pillow from the couch and chucked it across the room. It was completely unsatisfying. I searched for something better to throw.

A sudden thought ebbed into my mind. It entwined itself neatly between the vulgarities.

I shook my head. “There’s no way,” I muttered. Even the thought that someone may have moved the logs into the woodshed calmed me. I burst out the back door and noticed the wheelbarrow stashed back in its place. It wasn’t where I had left it.

With a shocking wave of relief, I yanked open the woodshed door. I found the logs neatly stacked where they belonged. Stunned in disbelief, I grappled with my tumbling emotions.

“Who...?” I didn’t finish the question. I knew there was no answer. “It was the bear!” I laughed to myself. “The bear still likes me, I guess.”

Bewildered, I forced myself to accept that someone, in spite of the town’s hatred for me, spent the night helping me. A distinct pain still sat in the pit of my gut, but the edge was a little duller now.

I spent the morning cleaning out the large garage beside the house. By lunch, my arms were tired and achy. It felt good to throw myself into the work. I made a sandwich and ate at the table. I decided to attempt to tell Jonathan I was sorry one last time. I braced myself for the possibility that I would be picking up dead flowers from my back porch.

I locked the bedroom door and started the shower, letting it warm up while I undressed. I didn’t bother pulling the curtains tight. I figured maybe Jonathan should get a good look at what he was giving up. I stripped quickly and noticed in the mirror how stiff my nipples were in the frigid air. I took a long, hot shower before I finally dried off and dressed.

I locked the front door as I left. Then, I stopped cold. “Go Away!” was scrawled in big red letters on my car’s windshield. I looked up and down the road, although I knew whoever had written it was long gone. It was apparently the sentiment of the entire town, no matter who had taken the time to express it.

It took ten minutes to clean the writing from the window. Finally, I finished smearing the last of it off with an old rag.

On the ride into town, I wondered what would happen if I never got Jonathan to forgive me. I was stranded here in the little town with nowhere else to go. The thought of returning home dredged up more terror than did the killer bear. I desperately needed his forgiveness.

“You want a bouquet of flowers?” Bill sneered. He was still dusting off the window sill, ignoring me as much as he could manage. “There aren’t enough wild flowers for you to kill?”

“What?” I gasped. “What are you talking about? I just want a simple bunch of flowers for the kitchen table. You sell flowers here, right?”

“I arrange flowers for thoughtful, caring folk,” he spat.

His young daughter slipped silently into the shop from a room in the back. She looked me over with large and inquisitive eyes.

“Look, I understand you’re upset with me for some reason,” I pleaded, “but I really need these flowers. Can’t you please just help me out here?”

“You want flowers?” his voice boomed. A shock of wild ferocity flashed in his eyes as he stomped toward me. I backed away. He growled low, as he approached.

His daughter caught his sleeve. She put a calming hand on his arm, while she held her eyes on me. “Let me get this one, pop, okay?” she offered. “Just go in the back and get something to eat. I’ll get her some flowers.”

Bill grumbled, but submitted to his daughter’s request. A moment later, he vanished into the dusty backroom.

The young girl wandered around the little shop, carefully picking one flower after another out of the vases and bunching them together. “Baby’s breath really blends things together well,” she explained, as she plucked stems of little white flowers out. “We need some fern to flesh it all out. You’ll want some dark snapdragons...”

She roamed the room and put together a carefully orchestrated bouquet. After a few minutes, she had enough and wrapped it all up in green paper.

“I’m Roanne,” she smiled sweetly, as she handed me the flowers. “That will be thirty-two dollars and ninety cents.”

“Hi, I’m Andrea,” I replied, as I dug into my purse. “Thank you so much for helping me out.”

“It’s no problem.”

I paid her and slipped from the little store. I clenched the flowers in one hand. Margaret stood in the doorway of the general store and scowled at me. I looked up and down the little street. It was practically deserted, but anyone who was outside stood to stare at me in contempt.

I looked down at the little bouquet of flowers. I remembered the cookies, as they lay broken and scattered on the porch. I sat down on a little bench in front of the shop. I dropped my head and sobbed, crying too hard to drive home. I struggled to get control of myself once again, but I only got more tears.

“Yeah, I gotta be honest,” Roanne slid up beside me. Her short little legs kicking several inches off the ground, “flowers just aren’t going to do it.”

I glanced over to her, keeping my head low so my hair would drop down over my face and hide my red eyes. “What do you mean?” I tried to say without bawling the words.

“Jonathan isn’t going to melt over a bunch of sissy flowers. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Jonathan?” I stammered. “I never said these were for Jonathan.”

She gave me a sad smile, then looked down. “Do you really like him that much?”

I shrugged. “I don’t really know him. We’ve barely ever talked.”

She was quiet. I looked over to her. She sat patiently. Her brilliant blue eyes glinted, as she waited for me to answer.

“Yes,” I grumbled. I stared down at my feet. “Flowers are a stupid idea, aren’t they?”

“Oh yeah,” she huffed.

“Cookies weren’t any better,” I groaned.

“Cookies?” she stared at me incredulously. “You took Jonathan cookies?”

I laughed a little amid the tears, as I nodded.

“I would have paid to see that,” she giggled. “You really have no idea how to get through to him.”

“No,” I agreed. “No, I really don’t.” I wiped at my eyes, then looked over to her. “But... but you know, don’t you?” I pried. “How well do you know Jonathan?”

Her grin stretched across her entire face. “Uncle Johnny? We go way back. In fact, pretty much everyone in town is like family.”

It surprised me. I felt an aching pain inside at the idea of having family – the kind that cared for each other. “So,” I ventured carefully, “do you know why everyone is so angry with me?”

She gritted her teeth and looked away. Then, she nodded. “I know you don’t understand,” she admitted. “It really isn’t fair. You should know there probably isn’t much chance you’re going to be accepted in this town. But, there may be something you could try.”

I sat up straight, carefully examining her expression. “You know what I can do to tell Jonathan I’m sorry?”

She only shrugged. “I know some things that might make him at least stop and listen to you again. Maybe you’d have a chance.”

I shifted uneasily. I was overly eager to understand. “Are you going to tell me?” I asked.

She grinned sheepishly, eyeing the bouquet. “I know those flowers are useless. What are you going to do with them now?”

I stared at the snapdragons. “Well, they’re beautiful,” I sighed. “You did a wonderful job with them. It would be a shame to let them go to waste. There’s this old vase back at the house,” I paused, curious at how she eyed the bouquet, “and I was thinking I should dust it off,” her eyes glanced at me, begging. I gave her a puzzled stare.

“And I was thinking these flowers would look...” I continued, but her face fell with an agonizing plea. Then, at last, I caught on. “These flowers would look completely out-of-place in that ugly old vase. Do you have a better vase they could go into?”

Her smile filled her face and she nodded enthusiastically. I handed her the flowers. Then, I watched as she cupped them to her face and breathed in the fragrance. After a long moment, she looked back to me, smiling brightly. “You’ll need a basket,” she bounced excitedly. “And we need to go on a little hike.”

I glanced back at the shop. “Do you guys sell baskets?”

She laughed.

I watched as she folded linens into a wicker basket. Then, she boldly took hold of my hand and led me out a back door. It was only a minute or two before we were winding our way amid towering trees, following a dirt trail.