Page 5 of Forbidden Moon
While his regular charges were distracted, Lance slipped into the kitchen to see what Cody might have for the twins to eat. At around eight weeks, they’d just begun sampling solid food—though not what the big kids enjoyed. His “little ones” grew up fast, as all shifter children did, and at age two were now the equivalent of five human years. They would grow at a standard rate from this point forward, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
No more outgrowing clothes that fit just fine yesterday. No more tying six pairs of shoes for every outing. No more wrinkled fingers from multiple baths every night. With all of them attending school in the fall, he’d have much more time to clean, organize, and savor a few minutes of peace. It was all good, and he’d enjoyed the wild ride thus far, learning more than he thought possible. The next challenge was adapting to all the new rules for school-age youngsters, and it boggled his mind.
Shifter children were intellectually sharp, quick to learn, and difficult to corral. Most parents only needed to make adjustments for one or two at a time. He’d need all the bows in his quiver to handle six active miscreants, all with different personalities, likes, dislikes, and challenges. Having Evie Rae in the house helped a lot when dealing with the Alpha twins, and Marco, Max, and Mitchell were usually biddable until their insatiable, need-to-know Delta natures took over.
Cody interrupted Lance’s introspection by handing him a tray with soft, manageable foods and shook his head.
“You’re deep in thought this morning. Problems?”
Lance smiled at the father of six-month-old Perry, knowing he faced his own set of challenges.
“Not really. All the rules have changed, and I’m feeling a bit behind the curve. I think it’s time to give Evan’s mother a call.”
Cody laughed and gave him a side hug.
“I don’t know how you do it, my friend. This family is damn lucky to have you, so stop worrying. You’re not going to screw this up, and it will all work out fine. Nobody ever said parenting was easy!”
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THAT SAME AFTERNOON
Warm sunshine and heavily scented air found their way inside the pickup’s cab as it traveled the two-lane highway leading towards Gladstone. RJ ignored his aching backside as he closed in on the final destination, enjoying a CD of Reba’s greatest hits. He’d been on the road for over seven hours, aside from restroom breaks and a stop for lunch. Were it not for the incredible U.P. scenery, he’d have been in a far grumpier mood. The last sign near Cooks indicated he was only about twenty-five miles out, and the excitement built steadily as he drew closer to his new home.
As promised, he sent a quick ETA text to the friendly real estate agent who’d found a temporary place for him to rent. Even over the phone, Carol Jo Dowling sounded like a character—helpful and efficient, but definitely unique! She’d arranged to meet him at the Ranger District office and escort him to his new digs nearby. Due to a family illness, the homeowner would not be using it for some time and wanted to rent it out.
Fortunately, the place came fully furnished and equipped—another bonus, considering he only brought personal belongings with him. He’d sold his Ma’s house and furnishings, keeping only photos, records, and a few small items with sentimental value. When the time came to purchase a place, he’d fill it with things of his own choosing—things that didn’t remind him at every turn of his Ma and the illness which took her life.
RJ hadn’t passed a single car for miles now, and with the windows down, he relished the heady scent of forestland. With almost no warning, he winced and hit the brakes, swerving into the other lane to avoid the gruesome roadkill splattered all over the pavement. It bothered him to see innocent animals wiped out and wondered if the late raccoon happened to be a female with hungry kits at home. He tried to shrug it off and refocused on the scenery.
Most people would have said there wasn’t much to see except a lot of trees along this stretch of road. He disagreed. With a bachelor’s in environmental sciences and extensive DNR training, he saw something interesting with every passing mile. He didn’t mind getting paid to experiencethisevery day.
If memory served, an enormous peninsula lay directly to the south of Highway Two. Strangely enough, most of it was private property, and he couldn’t imagine who might have the resources to own and manage so much land. According to the records, the owners declared it a nature preserve and left most of it untouched. Maybe someday, he’d have a chance to visit and take a look around.
Up ahead, he couldn’t help but notice a cell phone tower, glaringly out of place here. Shortly after, RJ glanced to his left down a narrow access road and spotted a set of yellow gates and a guardhouse. If this were the entrance to the Preserve, what kind of outfit was it? Who needed heavy security in the middle of the forest? He’d have to ask Carol Jo what she knew about the place.
The highway curved north and then west again, taking RJ around the upper border of Little Bay de Noc and to the district office in Rapid River—six miles northeast of the city of Gladstone. The directions on his phone led him directly to the building. In the parking lot, he spied an SUV with a vanity plate that read DOWLING. Good. He didn’t like waiting and appreciated people who kept their promises.
By the time he stopped the car and got out, a middle-aged woman and her male companion waited for him. Apparently, even Carol Jo’s clothing bowed to her eclectic personality. If the bright fuchsia capri pants and bold flower-patterned blouse didn’t get your attention, the fantastic collection of jewelry certainly would. White-framed sunglasses distracted only slightly from red pyramid-shaped earrings swinging in the breeze. Both wrists and ankles held a plethora of multicolored bangles which jangled noisily when she moved. Even her sandals were encrusted with fake jewels, some of them matching the rings she wore on nearly every finger.
RJ tried not to stare and smiled as he approached, hand extended.
“Ms. Dowling? I’m RJ Wilson. A pleasure to meet you.”
If she were surprised by the color of his skin, she didn’t show it. He wondered if it would be a problem here, even with a small minority population in the area. Carol Jo plucked off her sunglasses, set them on top of her head, and shook his hand warmly.
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Wilson, and please call me Carol Jo! This is my husband, Larry. He came along to look the place over and make sure the house is in good shape. The owners have given me the authority to make any needed repairs and ensure your comfort. The property is only a few hundred feet down the road, so if you follow me, I promise not to lose you!”
RJ got back in the truck, surprised when they arrived at the place only three minutes later. It was larger than it looked in the photos, well-kept, and with a lovely backyard overlooking the Whitefish River. Instead of a garage, it offered an enclosed carport and plenty of shade on three sides. The nearest properties were far enough away to ensure peace and privacy. Ideal.
While Carol Jo unlocked the front door, Larry went for a look at the exterior and yard. Already familiar with the place’s layout, the loquacious realtor flipped on the lights and began a quick tour. The simple floor plan included two large en suite bedrooms, a modern eat-in kitchen, and a spacious living room with a fireplace. Multiple windows allowed plenty of natural light, and while a woman’s touch was evident, the rooms weren’t tacky or overly cluttered with bric-a-brac.
“This is nice, Carol Jo. I’m going to like it here.”
She patted her manicured hands together and smiled.
“Wonderful! I already have your first month’s payment, so all you need to do is move in. I’ve left a few things on the kitchen table: keys, my contact information, and a list of businesses you might be needing. Do you have any questions?”
RJ recalled his observations on the way in and asked about the nature preserve on the peninsula. Her business-like response gave him pause.
