SAGITTARIUS: Fantasy Romance Edition
Suited for a storied life.
“A Werewolf at Book Club - Part II”
Fantasy Love Story by L.J. Longo
In case you missed Part I, read it here in our Double-Take Bonus Edition.
Read time: 35 minutes
The worst thing about being a werewolf besides waking up in a forest, basically naked, the morning after the full moon, was winter.
The darkness and the cold made Dave sleepy, anxious, depressed, and all together unfit for human companionship. Working remotely had always been a blessing when this part of the wolf—the part that didn’t want to bother when it was well-fed and warm—really started coming out. And for some reason, the year Theo turned nine hit him worse than usual.
Though he’d never say it out loud, he blamed Book Club. But on a deeper level that he wouldn’t dwell on, even in his own mind, he knew it had more to do with Theo’s growing awareness that he was not a capable parent.
“Don’t worry about driving me down the hill, Big Buddy,” she announced one day in early December. “I can ride my bike down to the bus stop.”
“I can drive you. It’s no problem.” He was sulking in front of the fireplace, but he’d packed her lunch and cooked her breakfast. He just couldn’t manage the energy to sit with her.
So she’d brought her eggs and toast sandwich over to him and sat stroking his hair. “It’s okay. Really. And Mr. M said he’d bring me back from Book Club, if you don’t think you can make it.”
Dave lifted his head and looked at her. He needed to cut his hair; it was getting tangled on her little fingers.
Theo grinned broadly. “I don’t want to be a bother, especially if you’re not feeling well. Mr. M said it wasn’t that far out of his way.”
Mr. M was lying. They lived at least twenty minutes out of anyone’s way and based on his other job at the shelter, Patrick probably lived inside city limits. It was certainly out of his way. Patrick had certainly not intended for Theo to take him up on the offer.
And if he had intended it? Was Patrick trying to find an excuse to come to the house? To see the state of it? To make sure that the werewolf was feeding the little girl enough nutritious food and not just raw deer steaks? Maybe he was going to come back with fairies from the child shelter because the house was not clean enough for human habitation.
“That’s an imposition and we don’t need him.” Dave curled himself tighter in his blanket, then realized he was being a terrible role model and an even worse father. He rolled his shoulders and stretched out of the blanket. “I can pick you up. Is the house clean enough for you?”
Theo kissed the top of his head. “Clean enough to pass a military inspection, Big Buddy. Mr. M just wants to help. I think he gets lonely too during the holiday season.”
Dave found it unlikely. Patrick was cheerful and smart. He probably had a good, loving pack–family who supported him in all his weird choices and never felt lonely ever.
“I also have money for a taxi.” Theo put the blanket back over his shoulder. “So, you don’t have to worry about me.”
Dave shook his head and clamped his jaw to stop from repeating more aggressively that he would pick up his own child. He certainly didn’t need a nine-year-old comforting him. “Save your allowance, kiddo. I’ll be at Book Club.”
And he was, though he’d not been able to focus on the short story and bristled at every loud comment.
Then it was Winter Solstice, and the call of the magic was so strong that the city would be drained of any werewolf, fey, woodwo, or other sensitive creature for the better part of a month. Theo was used to this tradition by now and packed on her own for her long trip to the child shelter. It made his heart hurt to see her pretend that she was looking forward to her stay. But it scared him more that she was not pretending.
“We have a good time, Dad. They take us on daytrips to see winter gardens and museums and the big tree decorated at the center of town. I think you’d really like to see the lights on the tree. It’s like the one we make at home only five stories tall.” She packed every pair of pants she owned, rolling them just as he’d taught her to get the most room in her suitcase.
Did she need more pants?
“So, it’s not a bad time at all. It’s just like how in the summer we go someplace new every weekend, only it’s wintertime and—” Theo hesitated. “You know, with a bunch of other kids and fairies. Who are annoying.”
Dave didn’t like that he didn’t know what she had originally intended to say. Maybe ‘only it’s wintertime and you’re not there so I miss you’ or ‘only it’s wintertime and I get a break from babysitting my stupid werewolf guardian.’
“Leave some room for extra socks if you’re going to tromp around in the snow,” he advised.
She gasped with pleasure and then closed her suitcase and showed him the front pouch, where she’d crammed every pair of socks and underwear she owned. She needed more socks.
“Good job.” He never knew it was possible to feel pride and grief at the same moment. “I’m glad you’re looking forward to the shelter.”
She smiled and nodded, hiding something.
Dave tried not to make a show of it when he dropped her off at the shelter. He didn’t want to get overly emotional and upset or embarrass her. They’d been doing this for almost a decade, after all. It ought to be easy.
“Big Buddy,” she said, from the front lobby while he signed a form saying he would be back within four weeks. “You sure I can’t come?”
He’d brought her once for the summer solstice. All his older siblings had sicked their kids on her as sign of acceptance. They played too rough, tore off the wolfbane that he’d put in place to protect her, and it wasn’t until one of the toddlers had bitten her arm nearly to the bone, that Theo had run to him for protection.
“I can stay in the attic when the moon gets big. And I won’t play with the little kids this time and I’ll weave the wolfsbane into my hair every day.”
Dave had never brought her again and didn’t invite his siblings and their children more than one family at a time.
“Please,” she begged.
Summer was a gentler time than winter.
Dave shook his head. “Not this year, Little Buddy. Maybe next summer. And we’ll get you some silver to wear.”
She liked that idea and he saw the shine in her eyes. Tears because he was leaving? Or just excitement at the idea of having something precious?
Theo gave him a big hug and he hated to leave her.
Dave dragged himself back to the rural hill and his pack for his twice-yearly torture. His father was as cruel as ever. His mother was as long-suffering. His eleven brothers and sisters were dismissive of his accomplishments and his weakling human puppy. He wondered why he even bothered to come home at all until the moon rose and the hunt began.
Still, the holiday was exhausting. His wolf-half glutted on the brutal affection of the pack, the joy of hunting, and the freedom of running wild. His human-half felt lonely, tired, and so full of rage that when he returned to the city, he wondered if he ought to call the shelter and arrange for Theo to stay one more night with good, responsible caretakers.
The idea made him whimper. He couldn’t stand the thought of giving up on his Little Buddy. He wanted to give Theo a big hug, smell the good clean scent of the little girl’s hair, and hear her babble about whatever adventures she’d had in the shelter.
Maybe take her to see the big tree together.
When Dave arrived, he dimly recognized the silver crusader parked in the lot. He’d seen it at the library, but he did not put things together until he caught the now familiar scent of dry-eraser and aftershave near the shelter door.
Patrick was here.
Dave blinked, faintly pleased by the thought, but also suspicious. Didn’t he volunteer at another smaller shelter nearer the woods? Had he transferred here to observe Theo? To take his little girl away?
Dave caught himself circling the shelter before he entered—a primal instinct that he forgot to correct. Amazing how just two weeks with family can re-set so many old habits. As he passed the fifth window, Dave saw Theo.
His little buddy was in one of the parlors which was still decorated for the holiday. She was wearing a pretty new dress—no doubt one of the fairy godmothers had whipped it up for her—and her hair was piled on her head in the kind of bun that was stylishly messy and had leaves and berries poked in it on purpose. She was playing checkers. With Patrick. The girl was chattering happily and the man was smiling and nodding, pleasant and patient. The air smelled warmly of soup and fairy dust.
Snow melted in his beard and his hair and Dave stood and stared. They looked so natural together. Both of them so soft and pretty. That was the life Theo deserved, the kind of father that such a bright little girl deserved. Someone who could teach her tenderness and strategy and not how to wear silver and wolfsbane and hide in attics from wild monsters.
If Dave called the child shelter right now and told that idiot fairy godmother that he’d given up on city life, changed his mind about the human child, and had no intention of returning … the fairy would tell Theo immediately, and what would Patrick do? Probably hug her, dry her tears, and offer to take her back to his home where they would talk about books and play checkers and not fear the full moon and cold weather.
What would Theo do? Maybe she wouldn’t even cry. Maybe she would just sigh with relief that she was finally free.
It got very lonely and very cold standing outside of the shelter looking in on such a picture-perfect scene.
Theo kept checking her watch and calling into the main room, dreading no doubt the time when her deary werewolf guardian would come to steal her away from this cozy room. She was like a princess who was about to be dragged into the deep forests and locked in a tower.
Patrick tapped her hand and pointed to the window.
Theo—without looking over her shoulder—shot up and knocked her chair over and dashed to the window. She grinned and waved when she saw her big buddy peering in and struggled to open the window.
Dave smirked at her struggle. She was too small. The window was barred, and probably enchanted. He waved back and directed her to turn around. The kid nodded and rushed away, grabbing the coat, hat, and suitcase in the foyer.
Patrick sauntered over the window, flicked the latch, and opened it. “Hey there. Merry Solstice.”
Dave felt his ears curl back at the warmth in the man’s voice.
“Uh, yeah. You too.” Dave answered, hoping he did not sound as brusque and suspicious as he thought he did when he asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Umm …” Patrick shrugged. “I always spend the holidays at a shelter with the kids. I— um … was a foundling child, too.”
Dave had not known that, but it re-framed everything he’d ever thought about the man right from the first time that sassy college boy had looked him in the eye and asked, “So did you eat its parents?” And Theo seemed to know, because she’d said he was lonely too during the holiday season.
“It was great to have her here again. She does a great deal to brighten the lives of the more permanent residents.” Patrick leaned into the window. “So, how was the solstice? Did you enjoy, um … your pack?”
“Don’t have a pack,” Dave said dourly. Then, he shook his head and corrected his melancholy. How did Patrick phrase it to Theo, keep his inside emotions on the inside? “It was a good time. Mom roasted a turkey, and I made all the pies and potatoes. My siblings and I hunted … uh … a couple unicorns. That was kind of the highlight.”
“The small ones or—”
“No, no, Raven’s blood. No. The big ones. We got us a 23-point this year. Dad kept that one for the den. Gave me the horn of a 19-point we brought down a couple years back.” Dave stopped abruptly, realizing Patrick might think unicorns were some kind of sacred. “Um … don’t know if I’ll keep it, though.”
“I’d love to see it before you get rid of it. Is it still on the skull or—”
“Oh, yes. My cousin Jim does the … is a taxidermist. Has the whole mane and everything. In good shape, too. Pops kept it out of …” First Star save him, this was awkward … “chewing distance.”
Patrick laughed. “It must be quite a sight, your family.”
“They’re intense. Lots of fun if you can survive them.” David was glad Patrick took these things in stride. “How about you? What do you do for the solstice?”
Oh, damn it.
“Um …” Patrick gestured behind him. “Roasted a turkey here. Wished we had more pie.”
Dave nodded, still adjusting to the idea that a soft, well-adjusted human like Patrick had never been adopted from the child’s shelter. “You know, I could make you a couple pies for New Year’s. Pumpkin. Pecan. Sweetmeat pie. We got plenty of unicorn meat if they serve that. You name it, and I can make it.”
“Honey, you should not have told me that.” Patrick leaned on the bars. “You can start by bringing an apple pie to Book Club and I’ll have an order ready for the shelter depending on how good it is.”
Dave blushed to be called ‘honey’ and nodded. His pie was not going to let him down.
“What are you skulking over there for, miss?” Patrick asked, his tone abruptly changing. “Weren’t you just telling me how much you missed your dad?”
Something small in a poofy dress threw herself at him. Dave swung Theo into the air to look at her as if she was unfamiliar. She giggled and kissed his cheek.
He teased her. “Wait, miss, do I know you? I came here to pick up this runty little girl with braids and missing teeth, not a lanky princess.”
Theo snarled at him, showing her missing teeth, and he nodded approvingly. “Oh, yup, that’s my little buddy.”
“The fairy godmother says you have to come in and sign the forms. And Patrick said I ought to ask if you wanted a coffee or hot chocolate or some cookies. I don’t think you will, though; the cookies are burnt. We went to see a ballet this time, Dad! I don’t think you’d like it much because it was in a crowded dark place and the music got really loud, but—”
And Theo rambled about her adventures while Dave signed her out of the shelter and paid his donation and she pulled him into the parlor against his better judgment and they sat with Patrick and several dozen other kids and she continued to talk and told him about their last book club where they had read a story about an elf and a donkey and then talked about the next Book Blub where they were going to read about pirates and mermaids and all the older kid in the shelter ought to come too. Before he knew what was happening Dave had gotten carried away in her excitement and had agreed to bake cookies and a pie to entice the kid in the shelter to attend Book Club.
She and Patrick could be very persuasive.
In mid-February, with all the prophets forecasting record-breaking snowfall, Dave still struggled to leave the house. He knew he had to begin cleaning the snow and ice off the truck or else he would be late for Book Blub. But when he stepped into the snow, the scent of wild rabbits and the distant cars assailed him. He could hear his own blood beating in his ears and the chilly air rose the hair on the back of his neck. The whole world demanded that he either run and hunt or go back into the house and curl up.
“Nope. Going to Book Club.”
Was he though?
Theo had money for a taxi. He could meet her at the bottom of the hill. She was nine and smart and capable. She’d done it before.
“Nope. I’m going.”
Dave dragged himself towards the car and stared at the snow that had fallen and covered the window. It had iced since this morning and he would have to scrape it off. Then he would drive into the city, park in front of the library, and then sit while adults and children discussed the short story, and then drive his child home.
It seemed just as he finished scraping, his phone beeped and buzzed in his pocket. The stimulation grated on Dave and he growled at the annoying sound and snarled at the text.
Theo wrote: “Book Club is canceled due to snow. Mr. M is driving me home. Please, stay snuggled up and warm. I’ll make us tomato soup and hot chocolate when I get home!”
Dave gave a relieved sigh and wandered back into the house and flopped back onto the couch without even bothering to remove his boots.
He was grateful he’d cleaned off the truck earlier, because Pat and Theo were standing out in the snow. Theo had undersold the damage and the danger. The marks in the snow showed how the back end of the car had lost its grip of the road and skidded into the ditch, then kept going, plowing into the frozen earth and snow. If it hadn’t been for the snow, the car might have continue sailing trunk-first down the hill.
Dave shook his head and tried not to think about the prospect.
“Yay!” Theo ran up to the truck and climbed in without a moment’s hesitation.
Patrick stood in front of the open door and wouldn’t look at either of them. “The goblins at Triple G will be here in a few hours.”
Several times since their conversation in the shelter, Dave had noticed Patrick’s tendency to look away when he ought to be asking for help. The way he took on extra work cleaning up the library or moving chairs instead of bothering whoever was signed up to do the job. A kind of residual uncertainty. He’d noticed it in a lot of the kids from the shelter now that they were attending Theo’s Book Club. A look like, ‘I’m not really allowed to be here, and I ought not to make myself known.’
Patrick was still talking about the black ice and the sliding cars, but when he started apologizing, of all things, Dave cut him off. “Get in the truck, man.”
He seemed surprised by the invitation. “Huh? Oh, I don’t want to be an imposition.”
“Imposition? You got into this mess being kind to us,” Dave said. “Besides, Theo is making tomato soup and grilled cheese and she always over does it.”
The little girl vibrated with excitement at the prospect of making dinner for her favorite adult, but before she could explode, Patrick said, “Thanks for the offer, Dave, but I really ought to just wait for Triple G. Maybe call the godmothers ...”
Dave cocked his head, wondering why the man was putting up such a fight. “Sure. But do it someplace warm. Get in the truck.”
“I don’t—um …” Patrick looked back at his car.
“Don’t make me get out of this truck and force you,” Dave teased.
Patrick smiled and finally climbed up.
Theo went doubly overboard. Fried up some bacon and ham for the grilled cheese, spread avocado on the bread after she’d toasted it, added herbs to the soup. Patrick—at Dave’s insistence—told Triple G he was no longer standing in the snow waiting for them and then seemed embarrassed and shocked when they told him they would get to his car in the morning. Just as Patrick was apologizing again for being an imposition, Dave smirked.
The librarian realized, “You knew they wouldn’t come out tonight if I told them?”
Theo put several board games on the table between them. “Daddy used to work for Triple G.”
“My whole family is mechanics.” Dave looked at Theo’s choices. “He’s gonna beat you at Scrabble, Little Buddy.”
Theo scoffed. “I always win at Scrabble.”
After Patrick trounced them both quite soundly at Scrabble, and after several rounds of a dragon dice game that was entirely luck-based, and after Theo eked out a win at Rummy mostly because she kept accidentally showing her cards and Dave used that to her advantage, Dave announced, “Well, time for bed. I can’t take losing another game.”
Patrick, who was well aware Dave had cheated to help Theo win, shook his head. “There’s that werewolf temper.”
Dave smiled at the joke, but it went over Theo’s head entirely and she exclaimed, “That is a very harmful stereotype about werewolves. I’ll have you know my daddy have never once lost his temper.”
“Mr. M was teasing, Little Buddy.” Dave was pretty sure he had lost his temper on Patrick, but if the child didn’t remember he wasn’t going to remind her. “And you still have to go to sleep.”
“But there won’t be school tomorrow,” she protested.
“That doesn’t mean you don’t have to work,” he answered. “I’m going to need you to build at least three snow creatures as an anatomy lesson. Maybe an ice castle for me to attack so you can learn good siege defense tactics. Not to mention, I’ll want your help making waffles in the morning. You’re going to have a busy day tomorrow and you’ll need your energy.”
Theo hid her excitement about tomorrow by narrowing her eyes at him and picking up the board games to put them away on her path to the bathroom. “Okay. I’ll brush my teeth and put on a nightgown, but don’t think you’re getting out of bedtime story reading tonight, just because Mr. M is here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dave answered.
Then he looked over at Patrick, a little uncertain what to do now that he was alone with the man. As usual, the librarian was wearing a professional button-up and the kind of slacks that would be no good to sleep in. Dave probably ought not to have looked as long as he did. “Um … I’ll get you some sweatpants or something.”
“I could maybe wear one of your shirts like a nightgown.” Patrick shook his head. “I wish I’d thought to bring in my gym clothes from the car.”
Dave dismissed the idea and went to fetch his cleanest shirt and some extra pillows and blankets for the couch. He said, “You’ll probably be more comfortable on the couch—it pulls out—than uh, downstairs.”
Patrick nodded. “Better than sleeping in the car.”
Had Patrick ever had to sleep in his car? They didn’t seem nearly warm enough. What happened to kids who were never adopted from the shelter and who went to college?
Dave brought him the blankets and the shirt and was trying to find a polite way to ask about the man’s life as a foundling who had never really been found. But Patrick took the clothes and went away to change.
The man was still faster than the little girl and Dave had an uncomfortable moment seeing the skinny man wearing nothing but his boxers and Dave’s shirt, which really did hang on him like a dress. Uncomfortable because ‘these clothes could fall off any second’ was a particularly good look on Patrick. Uncomfortable because when Patrick noticed Dave looking his cheeks flushed and he jumped under the blankets to hide, but he’d really hidden nothing. The scent of his arousal lingered.
It was not polite to mention. Not a smart move to make in general, but especially given the circumstances and—Theo returned with a book and announced: “We’re not reading from the novel tonight, because that’s not fair to Mr. M. So, I brought Folktales of the Forest.”
“That’s probably equally unfair to Mr. M,” Dave said blandly. And made room for her to crawl into his lap.
Reading the stories, he felt self-conscious around Patrick who was by far a better reader, but Theo wouldn’t let him get away with not doing the voices. Patrick listened with such rapt attention that Dave finished the story even after Theo had drowsed off.
When he closed the book, Patrick still seemed startled. “Oh, that’s it then?”
“You can borrow it,” Dave whispered. “I’m bringing her upstairs.”
Patrick nodded.
Worse than the day after the full moon, or fairy godmothers, or the chill of winter, was the potential of a young man snowed in and sitting on your couch in one of your old shirts.
The safest thing to do, Dave knew, was to call in and ask if he needed anything, wait for the polite ‘no, thanks’, point out the lights, and disappear downstairs to brood and long in lonely silence.
But the other options …
“Dave, are you skulking?” Patrick chuckled in the other room. “Is that where Theo learned it?”
“No! I just …” Yes, he'd been skulking. “Making sure she was asleep before … uh, do you need anything?”
“Yes, the company of my host,” Patrick answered and patted the couch.
Dave's heart raced, much the same way it had when Theo first called. He glanced at the safety of the basement door then walked past it. He thought about taking his previous seat on the floor. Nothing could happen if he was on the ground. Or in the chair across the room.
Terrified, hopeful, Dave sat on the couch.
Patrick smiled, pleased. One of the sleeves on the too big shirt slipped to bare his shoulder. Patrick didn't correct it.
They chatted about Theo and the unfortunate circumstance of his car and had another round of heartfelt “thanks” and a shy “no problem.” Dave wished he'd had something alcoholic to offer but he didn't keep stuff like that in the house anymore.
“So … sensitive question. Probably a harmful stereotype …” Patrick did that thing where he smiled and looked away, embarrassed probably for no good reason. “Can't werewolves smell pheromones?”
Or embarrassed for a very good reason.
“Um …” Dave swallowed and then nodded.
Patrick nodded, too. “So, then you are aware I've had like a low-key crush for you since the first day we met?”
It didn’t smell particularly low-key. “I mean, not since we met.”
Patrick laughed. “Absolutely since the first day. You think I have it in me to resist a damned hunk carrying a toddler in from the cold.”
“I must not have noticed over the scent of baby powder and mashed peas.” Dave’s head was reeling. Was this the right thing to say? He knew how to hook up with guys, one-night stands were fairly easy, but if something happened with Patrick ...
“So, if not that first day, when?” He asked it simply and with a teasing air, as if this was the most casual conversation in the world.
“Oh … I dunno.” Dave when he strained could hear the librarian’s heart pounding just as fast as his own. If he reached out his hand he could touch the bare skin of Patrick’s shoulder. “I probably, first put it together—maybe at Book Club.
“Maybe?”
“Didn’t have to be me. There’s lots of pretty women at Book Club. I mean, mostly married but you could be the type to have a torrid affair.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m such a cad.” Patrick shifted on the couch, deliberately posing—and not in a way designed to seduce married women. “Bookish and flamboyant, devastating combination.”
“It is. Um …” Dave swallowed hard again. He hadn’t felt this ‘teenage’ as a teenager. Not that he’d moved through the world with any particular confidence, but flings were flings and this was—well it could have been …
Patrick was waiting for him to say something. Right. Because he’d started to say something.
“So …” What did he do in a situation like this? Every instinct said to pounce, to kiss, to devour. But he needed the right words. “W—when did you become aware that I … also had a low-key crush?”
“I didn’t really until you just said that.” Patrick leaned forward and put his hand on Dave’s leg. “You’re kind of stoic, you know?”
Dave scoffed at the idea. “You mean, awkward and repressed?”
“Devastating combination.” Patrick took his hand away.
Dave darted his hand and covered Patrick’s to keep it on his leg. Then instantly regretted the motion and took his hand away again.
Patrick smirked and moved a little closer. “So … when did you first realize. Not when we first met. College boy covered in baby poop didn’t do it for you?”
“I think it was probably when a shelter volunteer came and put his life in danger to protect a toddler from her werewolf guardian. I remember treeing you at least once.”
Patrick chuckled. “Well, you really didn’t need me at all. You were very gentle … with her.”
“I don’t know that I ever apologized for that.”
Patrick hummed and raised his eyes as if he was waiting.
Dave, giddy and emboldened by the hand that remained on his thigh and the buzz of the conversation, did not apologize but dipped his head a little closer. “You know something that is a true stereotype about werewolves?”
“They don't apologize?”
Dave smirked, “We are very loyal and you know pack bond far too quickly.”
Patrick smiled warmly.
“I mean you've seen. I was supposed to bring her back to the shelter to be properly adopted by a human family … and I mean to do it … any day now.” Dave gestured up the stairs, then trembling himself, reached out to stroke Patrick's cheek. “But you know, I'm selfish and unreasonably attached.”
Patrick, very much in his style, took the little touch and ran with it. Dave was quite shocked to find the man straddling him on the couch suddenly, arms around his neck and smiling lips inches away. It was not an unwelcome surprise.
Patrick teased him by whispering, “Is that a promise or a threat?”
“More of a plea,” Dave answered. His hands naturally moved to cradle Patrick's back and the smooth texture of his shorts. “It's very easy to break a werewolf's heart.”
“I'll be very gentle with it,” Patrick promised and kissed him.
It's a very wonderful thing to wake up on a chilly morning, wrapped up warm and cozy with a new lover. Dave might have stayed there and kept Patrick trapped under his arm until noon if it had not been for the little creak of the basement door and the dainty step of a little girl.
Dave normally wouldn’t bother to open his eyes, but he had the feeling that Patrick, who’d left most of his clothes upstairs including the shirt Dave let him borrow, might feel otherwise.
“Little Buddy, don’t come down here.”
She stopped on the stairs. “Dad, I can’t find Mr. M.”
Patrick's eyelids fluttered slightly and he licked his kiss bruised lips without really waking.
“Why don't you go and take a shower, Little Buddy?”
“Dad, didn’t you hear me?” She came down the stairs. “Mr. M is missing! And without his shoes!”
Dave glanced over. Without his clothes.
At her shout, Patrick jolted awake. His face went from sleep-startled, to lasciviously pleased, to utterly mortified. Completely adorable.
Theo kept coming down the stairs. “There’s snow and no tracks, and—”
“Theo, we don’t go into each other’s rooms without permission,” Dave reminded.
Her little feet stopped on the stairs.
“But Mr. M.”
“I’m sure Mr. Mallhorn is safe.” And wrapping himself in blankets which was very unfortunate. “Go upstairs. Take a shower.”
She persisted. “What if he walks in his sleep?”
“I don’t,” Patrick said.
Theo’s concern turned to indignation in an instant. She stomped on the stairs. “I knew it! You two had a slumber party and you didn’t invite me.”
“Yeah,” Patrick laughed. “Boys only.”
“Theodora,” Dave interrupted sternly. “Upstairs. Shower. Now.”
She harrumphed, disappointedly, muttering incoherently because she’d been left out.
“It wasn’t a boy’s-only slumber party,” he promised her. “It’s a White Elephant Hill situation.”
“Oh, okay.” Theo’s dark mood lightened.
Patrick looked at him, confused by the reversal of her temper. “White Elephant?”
Dave shrugged. “I told you she wouldn’t understand Hills like White Elephants.”
The very worst thing about adopting an infant foundling was eighteen years later when she was no longer an infant, certainly understood Hills like White Elephants, and was planning to leave home. They’d been teasing each other for years about how he was going to kick her out, and she was counting down the days she could abandon him forever, but now that the day was actually here …
David Longmane found himself tearing up as he wandered into her school auditorium. He’d always hated this room. He’d been here for countless ballet performances and spelling bees and community plays because of Theo, but now he had the terrible thought that this was the last time he would ever have to sit in this smelly auditorium, alone, surrounded by thousands of sweaty, overly perfumed, emotional parents.
He sniffled and wiped his eyes.
“Witch's Claw, are you crying?” Patrick finally took his seat next to Dave.
“No,” not yet, anyway. He automatically tilted his head nearer to the man as he sat down and Patrick kissed the top of his head just as habitually. “What took you?”
“I work here,” Patrick reminded, with his customary sass. “I had lots of parents and students who wanted to say hello.”
And goodbye.
Dave felt his throat tighten, but crossed his arms and bore it. Patrick started playing on his phone completely uninterested in the people milling in, the buzz of the cameras, the school officials getting into place.
Then he bumped Dave’s arm. “Get out your earplugs. The band is about to start.”
Dave narrowed his eyes at his partner but was grateful when he obeyed. The band was very loud.
The noise was a galling tide. A name called, cheers from a few family members and friends, then the next. When they got into the ‘C’ names Dave muttered, “Don’t know why she has to go.”
“Go?” This really was just like any other graduation that the school librarian had to attend, and he was barely listening, though he cheered frequently for names he apparently recognized.
“To sea,” Dave said. “The sea is dangerous.”
Patrick looked at him feigning genuine confusion. “That’s … she’s joined a group that raises literacy among merpeople. You know a lot of merpeople that don’t live in the sea, Dave?”
Dave grumbled. “She just didn’t need to go that far.”
Patrick put his phone down and chuckled with amused affection. “Ah, you’re so cute when you’re hypocritical.”
“What? I’m not—”
“The werewolf who left his pack to live in the big city is annoyed that his kid is leaving the big city to live on the sea.”
Dave crossed his arms tighter. “Sea is dangerous.”
“It will be doubly so when Theodora Longmane starts sailing it,” Patrick asserted.
This was not exactly comforting, but it did make Dave smile.
When they got to ‘L’s Dave inched forward on his seat, following in the program, terrified he would somehow be distracted and miss her, worried no one else in this huge auditorium would cheer for her. He found it unlikely. Theo wasn’t like him. She had friends and clubs, and if she was somehow tragically lost at sea people would notice.
“Dave,” Patrick nudged his arm.
“Don’t distract me,” he snapped.
“But she’s waving at you.”
Dave jerked up his head and his hand to wave back immediately. Caught sight of his little buddy far too tall and grown up for his tastes, especially in the leather boots she wore under her graduation robes. Theo was laughing at him and waving back and smiling so wide he could see her teeth from all the way at the back.
Then the fellow in charge said her name and Dave jumped up—just like all the other parents had—to clap and cheer. He was very careful not to howl—no one else had howled.
So Dave was very surprised when a very loud howling noise went up in the auditorium. Patrick was doing it—with a mischievous glint in his eye. But so were the little old ladies of Book Club way in the back row. And a good number of the graduating students. And some of the fairy godmothers and the kids they had brought in tow.
And well, they were all doing it wrong.
Dave had no choice but to show them how it was done. Even if it did startle the people sitting directly in front of him.
Theo joined in when she received her diploma and the whole thing started fresh. Including not just the foundlings and the Book Club, but all of Theo’s other friends this time.
His little buddy had a pack and she’d taught them to howl.
“Gods, I’m gonna miss that stupid kid. Did you put her up to this?” Dave wiped the tears from his eyes.
“Not me, but when Theo has an idea you either go along—”
“Wait! Were you recording that?” Dave only just noticed Patrick’s phone. “Are you insane? Delete that—”
Patrick cackled and pocketed his phone. “No way. To be plastered all over the office.”
“You know …” Dave put his hand over his face to hide both his tears and his smile. “If I didn’t love you so much …”
“I know, I’d be torn to pieces next full moon. Can I get a kiss instead?”
“Mr. Mallhorn, that’s a very harmful stereotype.” Dave teased and then leaned over into the kiss.
~ LJ
Want more?
Her little white tail flickered with joy as she chewed. “It is against your nature to stand in one place, to give yourself over to another person. But if you cannot face this fear of belonging to someone, you cannot have the joy of belonging to someone.”
Emma rolled her eyes at the deer. “That’s obtuse advice and makes no sense.”
The deer licked her own nose again and said blankly, “Rice cracker?”
Excerpt from LJ’s romantic story, “Deer Cakes” featured in the 2022 Sagittarius issue of Dharma Direction.
L.J. Longo is an award-winning Romance author, a queer geek, and feminist writing a medley of dark romance (which can be found through Evernight Publishing), magical realism, weird sci-fi/fantasy, and very implausible creative non-fiction. She recently received Third Place recognition for her submission to the Writer’s Digest Annual Short Story Fiction Contest with her entry titled, "To Harvest Lavender." Coming Soon: LJs queer fiction, “The Stranded Sky Castle” will be featured in the Alpha Male anthologies from Evernight Publishing.
Connect to L.J. on Facebook, L.J.'s Twitter page, or L.J. on Instagram.
Poet-Tree …
There is a belief, by some, that if you wake up between 3:30 am and 5:30 am … the universe is sending you important messages. During this time of night—known as Brahma Muhurta—energetic interference is at its lowest and ethereal vibrations are absorbed much more readily. As I was deciding which poem to use for our final Poet-Tree piece of 2023, I came across one I wrote on December 22, 2014 from 3:30-4:00 a.m.
A true matrix find, as far as I’m concerned. A December poem for the December issue written completely during Brahma Muhurta. Even though it was nine years ago, I remember waking up with the words of this posey tumbling around in my head. And I share the raw and unedited version with you here.
Poem by Debbie Abbott
Read time: 1 minutes
“Your Lullaby”
It's just the steeling of the shield
like crystallized tears
piercing just to thrill
no warning
no escape
cover me in silver grapes
Am I a still life?
Crying out in parallels
across the tattered years
fierce in me still
I'm ignoring
inventing shapes
storming into blurry landscapes
Am I a thrill ride?
Middle of the night
ain't the time for do or die
when all you've been through says goodbye
Clear as bells ringing near
knowing the fear is always here
it's alright, there's plenty of fight in your life
Overcome, find peace and fly
rest your precious head, hear the faint cries
of your lullaby
~ Debbie Abbott
Next week: On the Cusp
The Angel Edition by Debbie Abbott
We switched things up (again), publishing the Romance issue instead of the Angel edition this week. For the upcoming, last edition of 2023, we’ll be sharing thoughts about the angel of Sagittarius and the angel of Capricorn … on the cusp.
Publisher’s Note ~
Thanks for reading/subscribing; we appreciate your support. Enjoy the holiday season, love one another, and … #gowiththeflow
~ Debbie Abbott, publisher/editor