Page 63 of Prayers for the Prickly

Laughter sang through our mind link, my giggles mixing with his chuckles as he pressed his snout to my head and nuzzled me. His damned nose was bigger than my head in these forms, and there was nothing I could to stop him from licking me.

Seriously?

Just wanted to see if you tasted like candy in this form, too.

And do I?

Yup,he replied before licking me again.

Do you mind? I had a shower this morning.

But you taste so good.

How could I do anything but squirm at that point since sunning my round belly also meant I was stuck on my back. He knew it, too, and licked me one more time before resting his head on the ground beside me. A head that was pretty much the size of me, with jaws he might have tried to pick me up in if I wasn’t pregnant. He looked like a miniature bear, staring at me that way, cuddly and fierce, and I squirmed until he took pity on me and gently nuzzled me until I rolled onto my side, my back to him.

Well, that hadn’t been part of the plan.

I squeaked, high pitched and irritated at being unable to see my mate anymore, and I kept on squeaking, too, right up until he ambled around so I could see him again, his lips peeled back in a winkle-nosed grin that left one upper and one lower fang exposed. My heart melted a little at seeing my wolverine smile with his claws extended, wicked sharp blades on the end of each toe that looked like he should have been using them to carve his sculptures, instead of tools.

So, what did you think about, when you were lying out on the ice, besides when the next hockey game was going to start?

Just, you know, stuff.

No, I don’t know, which is why I’m hoping you’ll tell me.

Well, sometimes I thought about what it would be like to live on a houseboat when I grew up, so I could sail all over the world and never have to think about leaving home because it went with me wherever I went. But then I’d start thinking about how much I’d miss Perriwinkle Cove and my family and, I don’t know, once I started going out on the boat regularly, I started to realize that spending all my time on one wasn’t really for me. There were too many things to consider, maps, tides, wind strength, the height of the waves, the weather coming in. I just like to be out there, the rest of that stuff, I just don’t have a head for. I’d have capsized my boat and gotten myself marooned somewhere the first time I got caught in a big storm and added another patch of gray to both my old man’s and my uncles’ heads by the time they found me.

Is your dad a captain, too?

Sort of, he’s my Uncle Wayne’s relief captain the same way my Uncle Curtis has his younger brother on board his vessel to be the relief captain for him.

But he has a captain’s license and everything, right?

Oh yeah.

So he is a captain.

Yeah, he is. He’s never wanted his own boat, but I think that’s just because he was always talking about retiring and opening a garage to restore muscle cars. Owning a boat would have meant a whole lot of responsibilities that would keep him out of the garage and away from that dream, not that he’s ever restored more than the ’73 Challenger he drives around in, but he keeps swearing ‘one day’ and we keep nodding and saying ‘yeah, Pops, one day’ knowing he’ll never leave my uncle to run that boat alone.

Are they brothers or is your uncle your uncle through marriage.

Uncle Wayne is my father’s fraternal twin. As far as I know, he’s never had any desire to do anything that doesn’t involve being on a boat and far from shore. He and Pops run a long line crew and primarily fish crab, while Uncle Curtis runs ten-pot strings of lobster traps off his boat. We run a four-person deck crew with my cousin Storm as our deck boss and man, does she run as tight of a deck as my Uncle Curtis does the wheelhouse.

Sounds like that boat is her legacy.

Because it is. She’s the only one of Uncle Curtis’ kids with seawater in her veins. Her siblings all work on shore, either at the fish market or at the cannery helping with offloading. They’ve got no desire to be out there on the water, while she’s the one with a houseboat she lives on at the marina, so she’s never far from the boat, or a chance to fish if the mood hits her, and it does, often.

Do you fish, too, I mean, for fun?

I do.

Really? Could you take me sometime? I haven’t been since I was small.

Of course. Fall is when I do the most fishing, and our whelplets will be here by then. We could take them to Mom and Pops’ place and let them enjoy some grandparent time while we’re fishing. If we catch enough, Pops and I will fry them up and serve them for supper or toss them on the grill with one of his marinades and some vegetables.

I’d like that.

And I know they’d love to have us visit, especially when they can spoil the little ones.

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