Page 20 of Claws for Celebration
"What about them?"
"They looked like claw marks, Twyla. Deep ones. But he insisted it was a hiking accident, some kind of fall down a rocky slope." Moira set down her mug with more force than necessary. "Either this mountain has the most aggressive rocks in existence, or he's not telling me the truth about what happened."
"And that bothers you?"
"Of course it bothers me. I spent an hour cleaning blood out of wounds that looked like something tried to shred him, and he acts like it's no big deal. Like getting mauled is just part of his regular evening routine."
"Maybe it is," Twyla said quietly.
The words sent a chill down Moira's spine. "What do you mean?"
"I mean Lucien takes his responsibilities seriously. Sometimes that puts him in dangerous situations." Twyla's expression had grown thoughtful, as if she was choosing her words with unusual care. "He's not the kind of man who asks for help, even when he needs it."
"Responsibilities? He owns a bookstore, not a wilderness rescue service."
"People have layers, honey. Just because someone appears to live a quiet life doesn't mean that life isn't more complex than it seems on the surface."
Moira thought about the way Lucien moved through his shop with predatory grace, how he seemed to know exactly where every book belonged without checking his catalog system, the careful precision with which he'd arranged her researchworkspace. Nothing about his behavior suggested simple retail management.
"What aren't you telling me?" she asked.
"I'm not telling you lots of things," Twyla replied with her characteristic honesty. "Same as you're not telling me lots of things about what you've been discovering in those old family records."
The deflection was skillfully done, but Moira caught it anyway. "This isn't about my research."
"Isn't it? You're learning about your family's history, about traditions and abilities you never knew existed. Maybe you're also learning that the people around you aren't exactly what they first appeared to be either."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning sometimes the most important discoveries come from paying attention to what's right in front of us instead of what's written in old books."
Moira bit into her scone, the sweet blueberries bursting across her tongue while she processed Twyla's cryptic advice. The café owner had a talent for saying things that sounded like harmless small-town philosophy while carrying layers of meaning that made Moira's head spin.
"Can I ask you something?" Moira said finally.
"Always."
"Do you think I'm losing my mind?"
Twyla's expression softened with genuine warmth. "What makes you ask that?"
"The things I've been experiencing lately. Books that seem to respond to my touch, dreams that feel more like memories, the feeling that everyone in this town knows something I don't." Moira's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Sometimes I feel like I'm living in two worlds simultaneously, and I can't figure out which one is real."
"Maybe they both are," Twyla suggested gently. "Maybe the trick isn't choosing between them but learning how they fit together."
"That's a very diplomatic way of avoiding my question."
"You want a straight answer?" Twyla leaned forward, her brown eyes serious. "No, I don't think you're losing your mind. I think you're finding it. The question is whether you're brave enough to accept what that means."
Before Moira could ask for clarification, the café door chimed again, and she looked up to see Lucien entering with careful movements that suggested his injuries were still bothering him. He'd changed into a fresh shirt that concealed the bandages she'd applied, but she could see the slight tension in his shoulders that spoke of suppressed discomfort.
"Morning, ladies," he said, that slow smile transforming his angular features. "Mind if I join you?"
"Please do," Twyla said, already reaching for another mug. "I was just telling Moira how much the whole town appreciates visitors who take such good care of our local business owners."
The knowing glint in Twyla's eyes made Moira's cheeks burn again, but Lucien seemed oblivious to the subtext as he settled onto the stool beside hers.
"How are you feeling?" Moira asked, noting how he favored his left side while adjusting his position.
