The broken she-wolf - Healed by innocence

A fire

*Lillian*

A loud bang startles me from my sleep. My nose is stuffy, my eyes sting, and I crawl out of bed. The morning sunlight filters through the curtains.

I hear another crash. What in the world is Blaise doing to himself now?

I scurry out of the house and stumble to a stop. Raising my hand to shield my eyes from the glare of the morning sun, I stare at the man crouched on the roof of my barn. He works a board free and tosses it to the ground. "What are you doing?" I call up to him.

His chest bare, he twists around and shoves his hat off his brow with his thumb. "Thought you wanted to burn the barn."

"I do." I admit.

"Then I aim to burn it. Figured it would be easier to break it into piles of lumber we can manage than to cut down the trees surrounding it." He says.

I can’t help but worry, "You’re gonna open that wound on your back."

"That’s my worry." He says.

I huff lightly, "It will be my worry if it festers."

He rubs his thumb over the head of the hammer, studying it. Then he lifts his solemn gaze to me. "I will be leaving as soon as I’m done with the barn."

I hear regret laced through his voice, and my heart tightens as though stretching toward a dream it could never hold. I have always known he would leave. Still, I hadn’t expected that he might take a part of me with him. "I will fix some breakfast."

"Just coffee for me." He says.

He returns to his chore. For several minutes, I watch him work and come to the realization that although last night caused me anguish, I have no regrets. Despite the fact that he has been in prison, I know he is a good man, honorable in his own way.

And I wonder if the she-wolf he loves ever thinks of him, truly knows how firm a place she holds in his heart.

I stroll into the house, scrub my face, brush and braid my hair, and slip into a clean dress. I walk into the kitchen and begin to prepare my morning porridge. My life is filled with routine. I have to remind myself not to set out a bowl of food for Digger, but I can’t stop myself from listening for his bark. I keenly feel his absence as I work about the kitchen, never finding him underfoot. He will never chase another butterfly or lick my hand.

The tears stinging my eyes increase when I place a cup of coffee on the table and see the sugar bowl I had left outside last night. I remember knocking it over, spilling its contents on the quilt. I trace my finger around its rim. Now it's full.

What sort of man is Blaise Moonshadow to go to the trouble to retrieve my bowl and fill it with sugar?

I hear his booted feet hit my front porch and step through my doorway. "Your coffee’s ready," I tell him, averting my gaze, turning to the stove to slap my porridge into a bowl. I listen as he pulls out his chair and takes his seat, a gesture that seems more intimate after all we’ve shared last night.

I sit at the table and, with trembling fingers, lift the spoon and sprinkle sugar over my porridge. I feel his gaze boring into me, but can’t bring myself to look at him.

"Lillian, about last night…"

"I wouls rather not discuss it." I lose count of the number of spoonfuls of sugar and decide it doesn't matter. I will just pour on sugar until I no longer see the oats.

He sighs, "I have got nothing to offer you, Lillian."

I snap my gaze up to his. He has removed his hat and put on a shirt. His sandy hair curls over his collar. I ache to run my fingers through it. "I don’t recall asking for anything."

His eyes are somber. "You didn’t, but you deserve everything... everything a man would give a she-wolf if he could."

"You didn’t force me. I knew where the trail was leading, and I was willing to follow it." I tell him.

"I told you sometimes a man makes choices not knowing the cost. Did you know the cost?" He asks.

I lower my gaze to the porridge. "No," I admit quietly. "But I would pay it again." Looking at him, I force a tremulous smile. "Although I don’t know how I’m going to look Thomas in the eye the next time he comes over after what he said yesterday."

"You can’t look at a she-wolf and know whether or not she has shared herself with a man." He says softly.

Shared herself? I feel as though I have given nothing and taken everything. "Sometimes you say things in such a way that I wonder if you’re a poet."

He shakes his head. "I have no gift with words. Last night served as evidence of that. I appreciate the coffee. I have best get back to the barn."

Watching him walk from the house, I wonder how soon it will be before he walks out, never to return. I shove my bowl of porridge aside, discontent rearing its ugly head.

Suddenly greedy for memories that I could hoard away and bring out on the loneliest of nights, I scramble from my chair and dash outside, hurrying to the corral. His horse grazes nearby. A beautiful beast that belongs to a beautiful man.

I turn my attention to the barn. With a wistfulness I know I have no business feeling, I watch Blaise work. Last night I received a sampling of what I would never have. I had not expected to yearn so intensely for that which I could not have.

"Get the kerosene!" He calls.

I snap back to the present as Blaise climbs lithely down from my barn.

"Fetch some old blankets, too," he tells me. "I will get some buckets of water."

"That’s not very much to burn," I say, studying the meager pile of ragged lumber.

"Thought it best to start small until we figure out what we can control." He admits.

I fetch the kerosene and blankets as he had instructed, returning to see him put the last bucket of water in place. He takes the kerosene from me and douses the wood. Sweat glistens over his bronzed back, and I worry about his wound. It doesn’t look nearly as angry as it had the day before, but it is certain to leave him with a jagged scar.

When he finishes, he holds up a match. "You want the honors?"

I nod jerkily. He lifts his foot, strikes the match on the bottom of his boot, and hands it to me. I get as close as I dare and toss the match onto the kerosene-drenched wood.

I watch the flame grow and spread across the pyre. The wood crackles and blackens. Smoke rises toward the clouds. I cross my arms beneath my breasts, feeling as though I'm finally doing something to put the nightmare to rest.

The barn had been a cavernous reminder of how those I loved had died. I hate the rope most of all, but I have never been able to bring myself to touch it.

“I want to burn the rope, too,” I whisper hoarsely, never taking my gaze from the fiery red blaze.

He wraps his arms around me, bringing me back against his chest. I welcome the sturdiness of his embrace. He brushes his lips lightly across my temple. “It’s already burning.”

His words don’t surprise me. Somehow, he seems capable of anticipating my needs before I know I have them. “My brother was so young. I wish he had hanged me instead.”

Blaise’s arms tighten around me. “Is that why you live here alone… to punish yourself for living when they died?”

I hold my silence because he has the uncanny ability to understand far more than anyone else ever has.

Gently, he turns me within his arms, tucks his knuckle beneath my chin, and tilts my head back. “Lillian, I’ve listened to you talking about your family. I know you loved them. For you to love them as much as you do, they had to love you in return. They wouldn’t want you living here alone.”

Gazing into his earnest eyes, I desperately want to explain everything… the fear, the fury, the hatred. Surely a man who has lived his life would understand, but if he doesn’t understand, something far worse than living a life alone awaits me.

“I’m here because I want to be. I’m... content.” Or at least I had been until last night.

His gaze tells me that he doesn’t believe me. “I spent five years surrounded by men, but I was alone because there was no one I cared about, no one I trusted. You don’t have to live like that, Lillian. Pack up your belongings and I’ll move you to Blaise or Austin.”

I jerk away from him. “I can’t.”

“Why?” He asks.

“Because that night still lives inside me! You don’t know what I did!” I cry out. No one will ever get it.

He looks at me with sad eyes, “You survived.”

Tears burn my eyes. “If only it was that simple. I’m here because I deserve to be. Call it a punishment. Call it a life sentence. Call it whatever you want. I made my decision and I’m not leaving.” The tears roll over onto my cheeks. “Despite what you thought, I knew exactly what you meant when you said a person makes decisions not knowing the cost… but regardless, once you act on the decision, you still have to pay the price.” Five years ago, the price had been my dreams.

“Even if it costs you your life? Lillian, your friend Dewayne was right. You didn’t know anything about me when you accepted my offer to chop your wood for a bowl of stew. I could have been intent on hurting you.” He says.

“I took your weapons.” I point out.

He releases a mirthless laugh. “You think that would have stopped me?”

“Digger would have stopped you.” I huff.

“You don’t have Digger anymore.” He says.

I flinch at the reminder. He curses harshly and reaches for me. “Come here.”

I try to resist, but he is insistent, drawing me into his arms and pressing my face against his chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but I’m worried about you, Sugar. I don’t like the idea of you living out here alone.”

“I’ll be all right,” I assure him, even though I know it isn’t the absolute truth. After he leaves, I will be lonelier than I have ever been in my life.

He holds me, his hands gliding up and down my back, comforting and strong, the silence broken only by the snap and crackle of the fire. It seems an eternity passes before he finally speaks, and when he does, it’s as though our argument had never taken place.

“I think we will be all right if we keep the fire small like this. I could go back to tearing down the barn, tossing the planks down, and you can feed them to the fire.” He says.

Releasing me, he meets my gaze and continues. “Holler if things get out of hand.”

I nod mutely, knowing that by working with him, I will hasten his departure. Knowing that every time I gaze into the deepest depths of a fire, I will see the blue of his eyes.