"Don't worry, Ms. Whelehan, it'll be fine. You know I can handle it," the young woman said, standing in the kitchen and smiling prettily as she bounced Caleb on one hip.
"I know that Maddie," Carly said, matching Maddie's smile with one of her own. "I guess I'm just nervous. I've not spent any time away from the boys since I became their guardian. I worry."
Maddie laughed, and freed a long strand of blue hair from Caleb's grasp. "You have given me six different people to call, and you're only going to be next door. Everything will be fine." If it was odd that the younger woman was reassuring the older one, no one mentioned it.
"You're right, I know." She dropped a kiss on the top of Caleb's head and went to find Jason. "Listen to Miss Maddie while I'm away. If you need me, she knows how to get ahold of me. When you wake up, I'll be here. We'll watch cartoons and have breakfast in bed," she said with a gentle smile. Jason nodded solemnly at her assurances. He still wasn't talking, and Carly worried. It seemed to be all that she could do these days.
Leaving behind everything but her phone and a six pack of her favorite brew, Carly walked next door and into her friend's house. It had been years since they had bothered with any sort of formality, coming and going between the two houses with little thought and less effort. She strolled through the house to the kitchen, calling out to Emile to let the other woman know she had arrived.
Grabbing a plate, she dug through the fridge, pulling out cheese and vegetables. She found the crackers and beef sticks in the cupboard, where she knew they would be. After cracking the top of the first beer, she stowed the remaining bottles in the fridge.
"It's hard to have girlie time if I'm all alone," Carly called out again. She could hear Emile moving around upstairs, so she turned on the television and settled into the couch to wait, munching on her snacks and drinking her beer.
"Sorry," Emile said as she descended the stairs.
She passed into the kitchen, foregoing a snack but pouring a liberal amount of whisky into a pint glass of cider. Carly turned down the volume on the television as Emile flopped onto the couch. She sat with her back against the armrest, knees tucked up close to her body, intently watching her friend.
"I'm a hot mess," Emile admitted, borrowing one of Carly's pet phrases. "And I feel terrible dumping my problems on you. I just... well, you're my only friend. Sad, huh?"
Carly looked at her friend thoughtfully, turning to mirror her body position. "You're my only friend, too, you know. And 'hot mess' could probably accurately describe my life at the moment. So what's up? I've been back for a week, and you're acting like I have the plague." She didn't mean to sound so accusatory, but the abandonment had stung fiercely.
Emile looked away, ashamed. She took a long pull of whisky-laced cider before finally answering. "It's not you, it's me," she said, trying and failing to inject some humor into her voice.
Then, before she could lose her courage, she started her story. "I used to be married, a long time ago. Jacob. Jacob was the light of my soul, the air I needed to breathe. He was everything to me, my first and only, my high school sweetheart. Together, we were invincible. We married, and started trying for a baby. It took years of heartbreak and doctor's appointments. Years. Until I finally fell pregnant. We were beyond happy, beyond overjoyed. Nothing could keep the smile from Jacob's face, or mine. The room he had been using as an office space was turned into a nursery, all decked out with the latest bits and bobs a baby needs." Emile paused her story, seeking the strength to continue at the bottom of her glass. Carly wanted to stop the story there, pretend there was a happy ending. She had known the other woman for years, and never was there a mention of a doting husband and adoring child. Carly knew the rest of what she had to say wouldn't be pretty.
Eventually, Emile managed to continue. "I was thirty-five weeks along, so near the end. I was ready. More than ready. I had nurtured my baby as much as humanly possible, but I wanted to be able to bend over again. I wanted to be able to drink coffee and whisky. I wanted to walk instead of waddle. I wanted to hold my baby and show her all the love a mother could give to a tiny girl. I wanted to watch her learn and struggle and love and grow. Jacob decided we needed a weekend away, one last weekend for us before the baby came. We went to a friend's cabin on a lake up north. It was a charming place, and we spent the day relaxing and enjoying nature and each other. Sometime after dinner, there was a knock on the door."
Emile closed her eyes, reliving the horrors once again. Carly shifted, leaning into her friend and offering wordless support. "Jacob answered the door. It happened so quickly. He screamed and fought, but he was unarmed and there was so much blood. When Jacob hit the floor and didn't move, the man came for me. He came for my baby, my precious little girl. He didn't know what he was doing."
Emile lifted the edge of her shirt, allowing the scars to tell the story. Three parallel slashes on either side of her belly. She couldn't put the pain and horror into words, she couldn't explain what had happened. Carly let out a soft cry, understanding was clear and words were not necessary. Tears flowed from both women, but Emile wasn't quite finished.
"There were some hikers in the woods nearby, and they heard the screams. They tried to save my baby, but it wasn't possible. No one could have. Jacob was dead, my precious baby was dead, and because of the hikers, our murderer was dead. So much death, but I wanted to join them."
She was heavily editing the story, leaving out that the attacker was a werewolf, as were her rescuers. That the attacker shifted to a wolf, as Jacob grappled with him. That the scars were from claws and not a knife. That there were long-healed bite wounds that would be harder to explain. The horror of death compounded by the lycanthropy that had been passed to her during the savage attack. Without this information, the next bit of the story didn't make much sense, but Emile needed to see it through.
"The hikers were part of a group, I guess you could say. And they kind of took me in like a stray. They looked out for me, long after I was released from the hospital. I lived with them, for a while, because I couldn't manage to face my old life. I couldn't live where Jacob no longer lived, a nursery my baby would never see. I guess they felt responsible for what had happened. My body healed, but my soul was shattered. That isn't something that can be healed."
The hikers were responsible, in a way. Not for the attack, that had been carried out by a lone werewolf of uncertain motive. They had been tracking the loner, knowing they often went crazy, and had failed to stop him in time. As she spoke she wondered, for the first time, if her anguish could actually heal. Jack, it would seem, was trying to piece her soul back together again. And wasn't that a frightening thought? As Emile was caught up in her thoughts, Carly took the opportunity to grab more drinks, skipping straight to whisky over ice.
"They still check in on me," Emile finished her story when Carly returned. "They never gave up on me, or let me give up. One man in particular has been rather persistent lately. I hate him, but he won't go away. I just can't deal with it, with feeling, you know?"
Emile finished her fresh glass of whisky in one long drink, before admitting, "Boy problems aren't the worst, though. I can't look at babies, at your little Caleb, without dying a little more. He lives, they live, everyone lives but my baby girl, her precious life..." Emile couldn't go on, sobbing as fresh pain pierced at her. Carly hugged her friend, sharing her grief.
"I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry. I can't imagine, I just can't even think about what that would be like," Carly said tearfully, trying to ease her pain. Tears and hugging continued for many long moments, until Emile finally broke away. Wiping her face on the edge of a blanket, she attempted to regain control.
"So, boy trouble, huh?" Carly finally asked after long moments of silence, latching on to the one part of the story where she could actually relate.
Just like that, the mood shifted. The story was a new truth between them, not to be forgotten, but what was there to discuss? It was pain and horror and darkness, and Carly knew enough. Emile had offered it as explanation, a past best left behind.
