The Bear's Nanny Page 18

  Dark plumes of smoke issued from the rusty chimney and he thought he could smell beef. Always, right after his transformation back into human-form, his senses seemed heightened, as if they’d carried over from the bear. He knew that in time they would balance out but for now he indulged, and his mouth watered. The one thing he could count on with every transformation was that he’d end up back at the cabin, absolutely famished. It took a lot of energy.

  Inside, Chris DeWalt was bent over the woodstove. He had on a dark red sleeveless shirt that emphasized his massive arms. Ever since Dylan could remember, he’d been huge. Even as a child, Chris towered above the others. A thin, neatly cropped dome of dark brown hair spiked out from his head in disorientation, as if it couldn’t decide on a unified direction. He had a pudgy nose, flat cheeks that dimpled when he smiled and a strong chin. His big, bulbous lips pressed tightly together when he was thinking or being serious, but spread in a kind of manic grin when he laughed.

  He was five years older than Dylan and fully bear. He also happened to be one of Dylan’s best and oldest friends. Because he’d already gone through his initiation, Dylan had chosen Chris himself to be his patron, which was a kind of cross between a tutor, mediator and guardian, while he finished his training on the island.

  Chris looked up from his stew and winked. “Almost ready,” he said, “take a seat.”

  “Smells delicious, as always. You know, you might’ve missed your calling… you could have been a great chef. Or a housewife,” Dylan teased, and then regretted it.

  In actuality, Chris was one of the more prominent political figures back at the mansion. But while politics may have been his vocation, like Dylan, he enjoyed the opportunity to escape the rigorous obligations of the household and return to a simpler existence, one which though isolated, seemed somehow to rejuvenate the older man.

  “If Suzy could hear you, she might’ve agreed with you,” Chris said fondly, his eyes lost in a reservoir of memory that was both comforting and painful.

  Suzy had been Chris’ mate, a tall warrior-like woman with red hair with a temper to match. Together, they’d made a perfect couple; she was the type to inspire Chris when he was lazy, or indecisive, and he was the gentle, compassionate, wistful type that more often than not, was the voice of careful reason in their relationship. It didn’t mean their relationship hadn’t had its sharp edges. Certainly, I don’t think I could ever have handled a single argument with Suzy, Dylan mused. But Chris was a rock and Suzy was the wind; it had been a perfect arrangement. And they had loved each other, dearly. Right up until the rainy winter night when the phone call had come in, and Chris had learned that she had died in a freak car wreck.

  Why did you bring up something like that, Dylan cursed himself. Chris may have been a giant, a warrior without measure in the household, but he was still capable of feeling pain. The mention of Suzy was like his Achilles heel.

  “You know, the salmon are really up this season,” Dylan said quickly, trying to change the subject, “You should come down tomorrow and join me. Get your fill… seriously, I’ve never seen it so packed. Must’ve been a good year for them.”

  The ploy worked and Chris brightened. There was a childlike naïveté to Chris. It was the one thing that set the two men apart. While Dylan was studious, insightful, cunning and probably more than a little suspicious on occasion, Chris saw the world through an innocent lens. Yes, he was quick to anger but he was also quick to forget.

  “Sounds great! I’ve been spending too much time in here, I think.”

  “Well, I appreciate the good cooking. Tell you what, come down to the creek tomorrow… and on the weekend I’ll stick around here, help you with the cabin. The roof needs a replacement, I think.”

  “Sure does,” Chris said, “although we haven’t had rain in a few weeks.”

  “There’s some fallen cedars down toward the beach. Whaddya think? Strip the bark?”

  Chris pondered. “Not exactly tin roofing but it should do the trick. At least until we’re ready to head back to the mansion.”

  The mention of the mansion caused a lull, which was interrupted only by the slurping of both men as they dove into the soup. Both of them understood that their time together alone on the island would soon be coming to an end, and it was bittersweet.

  “Which reminds me,” Chris continued, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  Dylan looked up from his bowl and wiped at his mouth, his green eyes scanning his best friend. There was something imminent and ominous, quite unlike Chris, and he couldn’t help but feel the bottom of his stomach drop out. What now, he wondered.

  *

  It had never occurred to him – and he felt foolish because of it – that his training would invariably include a matching. It was how Chris had met Suzy, more than six years earlier. It was how all shifters ended up meeting their mate. But Dylan still felt unprepared by the news, and stood up angrily on the cabins’ porch and began to pace back and forth, his bare feet creaking over the planks. The sky had darkened, and the first hints of stars were beginning to blink into existence.

  “So how does this work?” he asked quickly.

  Chris shrugged his massive shoulders and walked into the cabin and returned a moment later with a small folder that was shrink-wrapped. He tossed it to Dylan, who opened it. There was several laminated pages, each with a different face and a listing of information next to it, like a profile. He gave Chris a screwy look and the big man shrugged again, like it was second nature.

  “This is how it works. You have to make a decision in the next few days though so arrangements can be made,” he suddenly had a very officious look on his face.

  “Who are they all?” Dylan asked, without looking up as he flipped through the booklet.

  “All candidates that the elders have selected based on a number of factors, including political vantage, caste, personality profiles. I’m sure they’re all lovely,” he remarked.

  “Indeed… how did you make your decision?” Dylan queried.

  “I didn’t know a lot… the elders didn’t give me much information. I think they do it that way on purpose… don’t want you to have any preconceived notions, sort of thing. But I knew that she was from one of the other houses. All those women will be, as well.”

  That fit. The clans tried to intermarry as much as possible to keep the blood fresh. It also helped to maintain political ties and family names, and kept the power struggles between the clans balanced.

  “Great, so I’m supposed to marry a girl I’ve never even met.”

  “This is the way of things,” Chris said, raising his flat palms again sagely, as if there was nothing more to do about it. I wish I saw the world as simply as you do, old friend, Dylan wanted to say. “Besides, you forget, the same thing happened with me and Suzy… and, you know…”

  “You two were amazing,” Dylan said, finishing the sentence, not just for Chris’ benefit. He didn’t want to bring up Suzy again twice in the same day if it was at all possible. “Okay, fine… so… when is she supposed to get here? Are they flying her in?”

  Chris merely nodded. “I’ll give you one day to decide. Then, I’ll call it in with the satellite phone.”

  They were isolated enough on the small island that it was impossible to try and swim back to the mainland. During some of the summer months, the two of them had made bets to see how far the other could swim out in the strait before they were forced back to the island either by the waves, or the peril of exhaustion. The only way on and off the island was by boat or float plane, and neither was available to them, not until the training was complete.

  The catch was, it wasn’t up to him to determine when his training was finished. That was under the sole purview of the patron. And, Chris was admittedly tight-lipped about it, to the point that Dylan had given up in the first week of pestering him with questions. For now, he wanted to enjoy the island as it was, for as long as it would last.

  Still, he wondered wha
t the culmination of his training was supposed to look like: a final test, perhaps? Or was it simply a gut feeling on behalf of the patron?

  “You should be happy!” Chris boomed. “Think of it as an opportunity.”

  “Opportunity to do what?” Dylan scratched his head. “Ugh, I hate traditions.”

  “Can’t be helped,” Chris shrugged again, and then his face went grave, “but you’d better be polite. Think of her position… she’s being dropped off on an island with two men she’s never seen before. That would make any young lady nervous. So be nice or I’ll give a personal thrashing myself.”

  Dylan couldn’t tell if the threat was genuine or not. “Of course, I’ll be nice,” Dylan said. He hadn’t thought about how she might feel. “I’m not a complete ass. I just… I just wish I knew more about her. Or that I’d been prepared better.”

  “What do you think you’ve been doing on this island?”

  Not preparing to meet my mate, he wanted to snap back, but held his tongue. Chris slapped his knees and stood up, indicating that he was heading back into the cabin. He knew Dylan would also want the time to be alone and consider his choices. He sat down on the bench Chris had been relaxing on and flipped through the pages again. They were all, without a doubt, beautiful, and as he read them over, he realized they really had all been carefully selected. How am I supposed to make a decision, he wanted to shout.

  It was impossible. One sheet of paper and a picture to determine who’d he wanted to share his life with. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled and he felt a headache coming on. Okay, try to focus. He flipped through them again, and after an hour, he’d narrowed them down to three. The moon had already come out and he realized how long he’d spent looking through the pictures. By now, he could recall each face and each name.

  But when he flipped to the very back of the book, there was one that caught his eye, Sarah Walker. It was as if her profile had been added last minute, tacked on like an afterthought. She had a small face, round with a chin that dropped into an exaggerated point that made her look almost elfin in the Polaroid. A lot of freckles scattered around her nose, and dark brown eyes that seemed to stare out through the picture. It was the eyes, he realized now, that had caused him to stop and consider her in the first place. All the other pictures, for the most part, had smiling poses, and he could tell it was a fake smile, something they had put on for his benefit.

  But Sarah’s picture was different. She wasn’t smiling so much as letting a sly grin pierce the edge of her lips. Dylan couldn’t tell what emotion was behind it, and it intrigued him. Was she giving a coy smirk or was she leveling a disparaging grin at the person taking the picture? He could picture the cameraman trying to coach her, “Smile, smile! C’mon, pretend you’ve heard a funny joke! Be beautiful!” He could just as easily imagine Sarah narrowing a cold glance. He liked that she stood out, and he found himself reviewing her profile for the umpteenth time.

  She was from a similar caste as him and enjoyed many of the same activities: hunting, hiking, reading, camping. All the outdoor sort of stuff that had come to define his time on the island, he realized. He let out a low chuckle and leaned his head back against the bench and watched the moon rise over the treetops. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, and in no time, had fallen asleep with Sarah’s picture open on his lap.

  ***

  “So! Made your choice yet!?” he was awoken rudely by the grumbling baritone of Chris, who slapped him hard on the shoulder.

  Dylan staggered awake, breathing hard like he’d just left a nightmare behind, his eyes scanned around vigorously. His shoulder still hurt where Chris had laid his palm on him. The older man was a giant in every sense of the word, including underestimating his own strength at every turn.

  “Erm… yeah, I guess,” he said. Sarah’s portrait looked up at him from his lap, her face still frozen in that enigmatic Mona Lisa expression. “I think… I think her.”

  Chris took a moment to peruse the picture and profile, rubbing his chin with his thumb. “Not bad. Mind if I ask you what the deciding factor was?”

  “I do mind,” Dylan answered back, “but if this is the way it has to be… I want it to be her.”

  That was good enough for Chris and he tramped back into the cabin. Dylan heard him checking the battery on the satellite phone, it seemed to work only intermittently, which only increased the feeling of isolation. Dylan stood up and stretched. It was another sunny day, but autumn was fast approaching and he could feel a slight tang in the wind, the first signal of winter, pushing south.

  “Well, she’ll be here the day after tomorrow,” Chris announced. He still had on his sleeveless red shirt from the day before. “In the meantime, I think you promised me some salmon. Good a breakfast as any, eh?”

  Dylan rubbed his head and appreciated Chris’ attempt to lessen his anxiety about meeting Sarah. A number of fears quickly ran through his mind: was she anything like her profile described; what if she didn’t like him at all; how was he even supposed to act around her? There was something unnatural about this way of meeting someone. It seemed too planned, too regimented, not organic at all. No doubt she has an equally detailed profile about me, he realized, and that only caused a fresh surge of fear to swell in him as he wondered what sorts of illicit or embarrassing details were included.

  He shook his head and tried to keep up with Chris as the big man took off at a sprint, which for Dylan, was close enough to full-on running. Guess all I can do is wait and see, he said, submitting to the turn of events. That was part of his training as well, he figured. Learning to accept certain things that would always be beyond his control.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sarah gripped the strap on her backpack nestled between her legs and glanced uneasily out of the plane window. The engines droned tirelessly as she readjusted the navy green bandana across her forehead. Her silky black hair, piled behind her like an ebon turret, caught a glint of sunshine as the pilot banked hard, preparing to land. Below, she could make out the island: it was oblong, with a varied topography seeming to account for most of it. She could see a central knoll or hill in the center, as well as a number of beaches and several tributaries that ran into the blue ocean.

  Home away from home, she thought sardonically. In the top of her backpack, she still had Dylan Clover’s profile. She took one last look at his close-lipped smile and the shrugging handsome arc of his eyes, as if he were bemused by something. She puffed out her cheeks, noticing that her leg was twitching, one of her many nervous tics. She consciously planted the heel of her hiking boot to stop it. Her legs felt stiff from the long train ride, and then the early morning flight. Even though she considered herself quite fit, she felt her hamstrings cramping up. The tight black tank-top stretched across her small breasts as she rubbed her flat stomach to try and settle the butterflies and the mixture of nausea she always got when flying.

  “Coming in,” the pilot said, “best hold on.”

  “How long am I going to be here?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  “As long as the training takes. Usually, it’s only a month or so. Dylan’s been on the island for six already though,” the pilot said and flashed a smile. “Don’t worry. Time flies, believe me.”

  She gave him another tight-lipped smile in response, only half believing him. In reality, she resented the idea of being dragged from her own clan and forced onto an island with a man she had never met. An outdated tradition, she thought to herself. Sure, Dylan looked fine on paper but she couldn’t escape the fact that she was being forced to marry someone without even having ever shook his hand. A knot of fear wrapped itself like a snake-pit in her stomach as the plane descended, its pontoons touching down on the waves.

  Dylan and another man, Chris, she remembered, were already waiting on the makeshift quay as the plane burbled closer. She walked out on the wing and leapt towards the rocky shore in one bound, her boots crunching under the pebbles and looked up at the two men. Both of them s
eemed a bit taken aback by her antics. Not lady-like enough, she thought.

  “Er,” the bigger man fumbled for his words, “Welcome to the Island! I’m Chris, I’m Dylan’s patron for his training here. And this, of course, is Dylan.”

  The younger man took a step forward. He had on a blue T-shirt and green pants that looked as if they’d been mended more than a few times. He had on a goofy grin but he looked very much like his picture. Handsome sheets of black hair loomed over his broad forehead, and his eyes were suddenly emerald in the reflection of sun off the lapping waves. He tried to smile, but like his picture, it was close-lipped. Probably as nervous as I am, she thought, and decided she wouldn’t stand on ceremony.

  She extended her hand and grinned back, and felt giddy with the sensation of taking control. Even Dylan seemed a bit unnerved. Good, she thought mischievously. “I’m Sarah. I think you’ve been expecting me,” she said. Behind her, the float plane was already turning around, getting ready to head back to civilization.

  Chris grinned at the awkward tension and almost started to laugh through his thick cheeks. He clapped his hands together, and Sarah was surprised at how strong he was. His thick arms seemed to buckle like tree roots as he offered to take her backpack. She gave him a quick look. He was bigger than Dylan, and looked more mature, too. It was obvious he had already gone through his initiation and training by the way he was enjoying himself.

  “I can carry it,” she said. “I pack light.”

  “Told you she was a catch!” Chris said conspicuously and elbowed Dylan, who bit down and flushed red. Sarah had to grin at that, at least she and Chris had that much in common, making Dylan uncomfortable.

  As they made their way back to the cabin, Chris took point and started to whistle to himself, almost as if he’d forgotten the other two were following. Sarah breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the deep scents of the forest. There were worse places to get stuck, she figured. Then she caught Dylan looking at her.