Page 117 of The Lone Wolf Café
My father had always been a kind, compassionate, caring parent, especially for one raising three daughters alone. But his beliefs were deeply rooted in the traditional ways of the werewolves, which often involved putting the well-being of the pack above the well-being of individuals.
Growing up, I had always been expected to sacrifice for the greater good. Most notably, I had given up much of my own childhood to raise my two younger sisters. I loved them dearly: they were my whole world, and I was so happy with the near-adults they’d grown into. I would never regret it, but there was no denying that it had an impact on my own autonomy. Living in Wisteria Grove was the first time I’d been independent. It introduced me to new ideas, new experiences, new ways of life. And it made me realize the werewolves weren’t always right about everything.
A few weeks earlier, I might have dismissed Rowena’s thoughts on forgiveness as preposterous. But now, I was immensely grateful for them.
I was grateful forher.
“You know…” Rowena continued. “There’s an empath up near Bangor who works as a healer. Not of the body, but of the mind. I think humans call them ‘therapists’. She could probably help you and your mother.”
I nodded, a small, hopeful smile slipping onto my face despite my tears. “I would like that. A lot.”
Rowena gave my shoulder a firm, final rub. “Well, my little wolf, it’s getting late, and it’s quite cold outside. I’m exhausted, and I’m sure you and your mother are, too.” Rowena paused to let out a yawn, further emphasizing her point. “I say we all return to the cottages and get some rest. These things will be better addressed in the morning.”
I nodded, lifting my head from Rowena’s chest. “I agree.”
“Then let’s head back inside and fetch your mother,” Rowena declared, rising from the chair as a stray nighttime breeze whipped her black cloak. “She’s worried about you, you know.”
I nodded but didn’t respond.
“And she wanted me to tell you she loves you.”
I still didn’t respond, but Rowena’s words struck my heart like a lightning bolt, nearly making my clutch my chest.
Of course she loved me. I was her daughter.
And I loved her.
I just hoped that, even after fifteen years apart, she and I could heal from this.
That my whole family could.
The entire walk back to the cottages, I studied my mother’s dark figure as she walked ahead of Rowena and I.
She was quiet, with her head down and her hands pressed against her sides. Her wavy red hair was even longer than mine was, just barely brushing her waist, and the ends were ragged and split. She’d borrowed a sage-green cape from Rowena, and it, plus her similarly colored dress, billowed softly in the breeze as she walked.
As I lolled behind her, my hand discreetly slipped in Rowena’s, it still didn’t seem real. I kept blinking my eyes, wondering if I’d startle awake on the hardwood floor of my cottage. Or even back in my bed at Hollenboro, across the room from my sisters’ bunks, with moonlight streaming in through the window that separated us.
My mother’s cape caught the breeze again, and as it rippled and swayed, I couldn’t help but think how similar it looked to a ghost.
Of course, ghosts and spirits existed all around us, but my only experience with the immortal beings was back on Hollenboro during Halloween. Being on a small island, supplies for costumes were limited, and there were many seasons where we simply cut holes in white bedsheets and ran around the village shouting “Boo!” at anyone that passed.
Even among magical beings, ghosts always seemed so ethereal. Otherworldly. Which was exactly how I felt about my mother at the moment. As if she were a spirit that had come back from the dead.
Then a flash of white billowed a few dozen feet away, and I sprang backwards, clutching Rowena’s hand.
“Ghost!” I pointed. The flowing white figure had disappeared behind one of the cottages. The way the full moon had glinted on its amorphous frame made it seem even more eerie.
Gods, it was as if my thoughts had come to life.Am I seeing things? Am I going insane?
Rowena is right. I really do need some sleep…
To my surprise, Rowena didn’t flinch or recoil at my reaction. Instead, she turned her head back, gave me a funny look, and laughed.
“Nettie, you silly little wolf,” Rowena scoffed, pointing toward the cottage where the ghost had disappeared. “That’s no ghost. It’s a child in costume.”
Wait, what?
I blinked, looking back over at the cottage. From around the corner, two more children appeared, happily skipping down the dirt path that swirled around the homes. One was dressed as a pirate, their fake gold jewelry catching the light of the full moon, and the other was dressed as a dragon, their plush, spiked tail dragging on the ground as they moved. They both carried plastic pumpkin buckets, and a few feet behind them was a witch couple, happily dressed in their full regalia.
