The Red Wolf

Unanswered Questions

The morning sun was already warming the air when I woke up, groggy but feeling oddly well-rested. For a moment, I forgot where I was—until the smell of coffee and something frying in butter reminded me. Gran was already up, probably had been for hours.

I sat up, blinking at the soft green bedding, then at the old cat plush still nestled beside me. The night before felt like a blur—familiar faces, old comforts, and then… tension. I sighed, rubbing my temples. Gran and I had barely raised our voices, but that underlying frustration lingered, unspoken but heavy.

I got up, stretched, and changed into a fresh T-shirt and shorts before making my way to the kitchen. The house felt eerily quiet, aside from the sizzle of something in a pan and the occasional clink of dishes. The usual voices—family, guests—were absent.

Gran stood at the stove, her back to me. “Morning, sweetheart,” she said without turning. “You hungry?”

I hesitated, watching the way she moved, graceful and sure, like she had done this a thousand times before. Of course, she had.

“Yeah,” I said, sitting at the table. A plate was already waiting for me—scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and toast. I frowned. “You knew I’d wake up and eat this?”

“Not my first rodeo,” she said with a small smile, finally glancing back at me. Her face was unreadable, but I could still feel the weight of last night between us.

I poked at the food, appetite dulled. “Where is everybody?”

Gran took a sip of coffee before answering. “Most of them left early. You know how it is—some people have places to be.”

Did I? The house had been packed last night. But now, not even Stella was around. Just me, Gran, and the distant hum of cicadas outside.

I chewed a bite of toast. “Stella didn’t even wake me?”

“She said she’d see you later.”

I exhaled through my nose. Something felt… off. It always did when it came to the people Gran surrounded herself with. As a kid, I never thought much about it. People came and went, lingering in the summers, disappearing when the air turned cold. Back then, I had assumed they were just family friends, travelers who never really settled. But now, as an adult, the inconsistencies gnawed at me.

“Gran,” I started, keeping my voice light, “who are these people?”

Her back stiffened, just slightly.

I pressed on. “I mean, I’ve never really understood it. Why do they always come here? Why do they leave so suddenly? Why don’t they ever talk about where they go next?”

Gran set her mug down with a soft clink. “Maya,” she said, voice even, “some people live different lives than we do. They don’t always have the luxury of staying in one place.”

“But they’re not just people to you, are they?” I leaned forward. “You take them in, every year. You cook for them, give them a place to stay. They treat you like—like something more than just a kind old lady willing to help.”

Gran finally turned to face me fully, her sharp eyes locking onto mine. “And what exactly are you asking, Maya?”

I swallowed. “I don’t know.” That was the truth. I didn’t know. But I wanted to.

Gran sighed, something flickering across her face—regret? Frustration? Then, just as quickly, it was gone. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

Conversation over.

I wanted to push more, to demand answers, but I knew her well enough to recognize that wall she had just put up. There was no getting through it—not yet.

I ate in silence.

——————————————

Later that afternoon, I found myself by the lake with Stella and Bailey. The sun was high, making the water glitter, and the air carried the scent of damp earth and pine. The familiar setting should have been comforting, but my thoughts were still tangled up in the morning’s conversation with Gran.

Stella stretched her legs out in the grass, propping herself up on her elbows. “So, what was that about last night?”

I glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

She gave me a knowing look. “Don’t play dumb. You and Gran. The tension was thick enough to choke on.”

Bailey, sitting cross-legged beside me, smirked. “Yeah, we were taking bets on whether you’d actually argue this year. I lost. Thought you’d finally snap.”

I sighed, tossing a small rock into the lake. “It wasn’t even a fight, really. Just… the same old thing. I ask questions, she dodges them.”

Bailey leaned back on his hands, watching the water. “Still hung up on the summer guests?”

I hesitated. “Yeah. I mean, doesn’t it ever seem weird to you? The way people show up, stay a while, then disappear like they were never here?”

Stella shrugged. “I figured they were just travelers or something. People who need a place to crash.”

“Sure,” I said slowly. “But why always here? Why always Gran?”

Neither of them had an answer for that.

Bailey picked up a stick and twirled it between his fingers. “You think she’s running some underground Airbnb?”

I snorted, but the joke didn’t shake the unease clinging to me.

Stella sat up, brushing off her shorts. “Maya, you’ve been obsessing over this for years. If there was some deep, dark secret, don’t you think you’d have figured it out by now?”

I wanted to believe that.

But I wasn’t so sure anymore.