Once in a Full Moon Page 16

  “I’m only kidding,” he said. “They’re from my grandmother’s freezer.”

  I sighed with relief. Brandon was such an animal lover he’d be even more devastated than me if he discovered he’d been hunting wildlife.

  We sat down together on a huge fallen tree.

  He tugged at the steaks with a stick as they sizzled.

  I looked around for a backpack or a picnic basket. “Any plates? Forks?”

  “Oh no—I forgot,” he said. “What was I thinking?”

  Brandon speared one of the steaks with a small branch and handed it to me.

  “I guess I’m not a gentleman after all,” he said, embarrassed, as I eyed the skewered meat.

  “I prefer you in the wild,” I said.

  He tore into his steak as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. I wasn’t used to camping—my experience with campfire dining was just bringing snacks from home like our sixsome had done this past fall.

  I held the branch, the meat hanging on it. This was a lot different from roasting marshmallows. If Ivy could see me now, she’d faint. Not only would I have to eat with my fingers, an activity that Ivy found revolting, but I didn’t even have a napkin. I had mild trepidation, feeling like an animal myself. But I didn’t want to offend Brandon, and I wasn’t about to spoil our first date together.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “We’re really roughing it.”

  Though I felt uncomfortable eating in an unladylike way on a first date, there was a part of me that felt free. All these years I’d played by the rules, and it was slightly liberating to eat in the wild.

  “I’ll have to stop at a camping supply place after school.”

  “I’ll remind you,” I said.

  If Brandon didn’t remember this night together, maybe this was my chance to say things to him I wouldn’t be able to say during the day. I could use this opportunity and finally confess my love to him. And in the morning, when I brushed past him at school, he wouldn’t be aware that I’d already bared the depths of my soul. However, Brandon did say he recalled certain images when he awoke. And with my luck, the one where I confessed my love and he laughed in my face would be that moment. So I nibbled on my steak as daintily as I could.

  Brandon devoured his steak and threw the bone to his wolf pack. He took mine when I was done, then washed his hands off in a clump of snow. Brandon put his arms around me. He gave off as much heat as the crackling fire.

  “This is the best date I’ve ever had,” I said truthfully.

  The night was enchanting. The snow had stopped falling, and now the clouds parted and the icicles glistened in the moonlight. Brandon warmed my hands in his. We watched as the wolves playfully bit each other and rolled around together in the snow. Then they yawned and stretched, and before I knew it, the wolves, along with Champ, were lying sound asleep. The trees were lined with snow, and I was in the company of a magnificent wild animal of the lycan kind.

  The full moon shone above us. Brandon leaned into me and rested his stubbled cheek against mine. I wanted so badly to kiss him, but I recalled Dr. Meadows’s words. I couldn’t take the chance. For both our sakes I had to pull away.

  “I’m not supposed to kiss you when you’re like this,” I told him.

  “Then what if I kiss you?”

  He drew me back and kissed my neck, then nibbled his way to my shoulders. He nuzzled his nose along my neckline. He touched my hair and breathed it in as if the scent placed him under a spell.

  I spent the rest of the evening trying to avoid kissing a werewolf.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Mr. Worthington

  As I reached the reception desk of Pine Tree Village, Mr. Worthington caught sight of me. He was standing in the lobby next to a grand piano.

  “Celeste. It always warms my heart to see you,” he said, his fingers tinkling on the keys. “What is new with you?”

  “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” I said seriously.

  “I’ve heard a lot in my time, young lady. Nothing would surprise me.”

  I knew if I told Mr. Worthington my recent events, he might have a coronary right there and then. I couldn’t be responsible.

  “Are you referring to the wolves showing up at your school?” he asked.

  “Did you hear about them?” I’d almost forgotten.

  “It’s all anyone is talking about. Please. I’d love to hear an eyewitness account.”

  “It was so strange. They were outside my classroom. Beautiful, with fluffy gray-and-white fur. If they weren’t so dangerous, I would have taken one home with me.”

  “Well, their bite is much worse than their bark,” he said.

  I cracked a smile.

  “It is odd for wolves to come so close to the human population,” he said.

  “That’s what I’ve heard.”

  “It must have been because of the full moon,” he said mysteriously.

  Just then a nurse came up to him. “It’s time for your meds,” she said.

  I followed Mr. Worthington back to his room. He had tons of pictures and mementos hung on the walls and placed around tables and shelves to remind him of his accomplishments and family.

  He took the colorful pills the nurse handed him, and she left us to continue our conversation.

  “So are you back to hear more about the Legend’s Run Werewolf?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “Last time I came you said you were only at the beginning of your story.”

  “Come, sit down,” he said, pointing to an antique chair.

  “This is my great-grandfather,” he added, showing me a worn black-and-white portrait of a man. “Some say he was mentally ill. Others say he was cursed. His wife swore otherwise.”

  I was surprised at Mr. Worthington’s candor and was enraptured by his biography.

  “My great-grandfather was building his house—it was over in the western part of town by the river—when a pack of wolves came after his baby, sleeping in a bassinet by the lumber pile. That baby was my father.”

  I was riveted by his story and I nodded, hoping he’d continue.

  “By the time he caught sight of the pack, one wolf already had the basket in its mouth, ready to carry it back to its den.

  “As his wife cried out, he fought like mad, desperate to save his son. The boy, still cradled in the basket, was unharmed, but my great-grandfather was almost killed. Bloody and on the brink of death, he lay under a shade tree as his wife ran for help. The local chieftain came to his aid and attended to him. When the chieftain finally left, he told my family my great-grandfather would live but the wolf was now inside him—in his blood.

  “But no one knew what the chieftain meant at the time. Apparently my great-grandfather was never the same.”

  It was just like Brandon. Suddenly I was dying to tell Mr. Worthington my tale of the Legend’s Run Werewolf. But he wasn’t finished with his story, and I wasn’t sure it was wise to tell Brandon’s secret.

  “It started with a full moon and continued for three days. He roamed the woods alone. When he was spotted by hunters he was mistaken for a wolf.”

  Mr. Worthington showed me more pictures. Many were black-and-white photos. Others were in color but worn. Then he showed me an old family portrait. “This is his wife and my father,” he said. Then he handed me a black-and-white baby picture. “And this is yours truly.”

  “Ah . . . You were so cute!” I said.

  “And this is my wife, my son, Harry, and his daughter, Claire,” he said, pointing to still more photos. “She’s something of a wild child. Always was. Couldn’t be kept down by conventional traditions. She married a man, here in Legend’s Run, and had a child. As soon as the child was born, she disappeared. She ran off to a commune and we lost contact with her many years ago. I always told my wife it was the wolf in her blood.”

  “Your great-grandfather was the Legend’s Run Werewolf,” I said. “Now, that is a great story!”

  I couldn’t shake from my mind the tale M
r. Worthington had shared with me. It might have been because he’d had too much time on his hands or he, like in the traditions of folklore that were the subject of my essay, was passing down the town’s legend. I’m sure everyone in town had a similar anecdote—people grasping onto the idea of something mysterious existing to keep the town exciting.

  Just a few weeks ago it would have shocked me that someone as wise and rational as Mr. Worthington would latch on to something so extraordinary and believe it was true. It wasn’t the kind of story in which you say that your family’s ancestors are royalty. Mr. Worthington wasn’t trying to convince me that he was kin to a king but rather that he was related to a werewolf.

  I wouldn’t have believed it for a minute if I hadn’t fallen in love with a werewolf myself.

  I returned home and wolfed down my lunch. It was always good to get some home time on a weekend, but I was bursting to tell Brandon about my encounter with Mr. Worthington. He might laugh it off or find comfort knowing someone I knew insisted that they, too, believed in werewolves. When I headed out the back door, I found someone waiting for me in the driveway. It was Nash.

  This was the first time we’d been alone in weeks.

  “You canceled the other night,” Nash said. “We all were going to the mall. I had to watch Abby and Ivy shop for two hours. What gives?”

  It was clear Nash was feeling lonely.

  “Where are you off to in such a hurry? Volunteering again?”

  “No, I already did that.”

  “Then what’s up?” he asked.

  “Just errands.”

  “Why are you wearing those atrocious gloves? Seems to me you’re copying someone else’s style.”

  “They make fingerless gloves, you know, because people wear them.”

  “People, yes, but you?”

  “You’re overthinking it,” I replied defensively. But was he really? I was wearing them for the exact reason Nash thought I was—to be like Brandon. I couldn’t admit it to him, or anyone else. It was best to deflect the attention I was bringing to myself and Brandon.

  “So, is it love?” Nash asked.

  “What do you mean?” I was startled by his directness.

  “Are you in love?”

  “What are you talking about? In love with whom?”

  He took my hand.

  “I’d like us to get back together.” He took my other hand and pulled me close. “You want me to pay attention to you. I get that. So I will.”

  I liked Nash. He was handsome and popular and had moments of being a great boyfriend. Before we’d begun dating, I’d had a crush on him since I could remember. Every girl did. But as gorgeous and athletic as he was, we ultimately had different values and goals. And I was in love with another guy.

  “I don’t think we should keep seeing each other,” I said. “We want different things.”

  Nash dropped my hands in disgust. He paused, his face flushed red.

  “You’ll see,” he said. “You’ll be begging to go back out with me. You mark my words.”

  My ex-boyfriend hopped in his car and sped off into the distance.

  I still wanted to tell Brandon about Mr. Worthington’s remarks. The only thing on my mind was being in his arms. But I arrived at his house to find him holding something else—groceries.

  He was helping a woman get produce out of her hatchback.

  Brandon hurried over to me carrying several bags.

  “Hey, Celeste,” he said.

  “Hi. Did I come over at a bad time?”

  “No, I’m just helping out. I’d like you to meet someone.”

  I followed Brandon to the car. A very stately woman with perfectly styled brown hair greeted me with a smile that looked remarkably like Brandon’s.

  “Grandma, this is Celeste.”

  “Hi, Celeste. It is wonderful to meet you.”

  “You, too, Mrs. Maddox.”

  “You can call me Barb,” she continued sweetly. “I am so happy Brandon has a friend,” she said as if she was taking me under her wing. “I worried so when he moved here after school had already begun. Well, I am so happy to know why he’s been keeping to himself and acting so . . .” She rolled her eyes. “Now I know why he’s been behaving so strangely,” she said, winking at me. “Would you like to come in for hot chocolate and cake?”

  I looked to Brandon for an answer.

  “We have to study, Gram. But thanks.”

  “Perhaps another time,” she said, walking up the back stairs.

  “Yes, I’d love to,” I said.

  “I’ll only be a minute.” Brandon followed his grandmother with the groceries and met me inside his guesthouse.

  “She is so cute!” I said. “I love her.”

  “She is sweet, but she can be a bit . . .”

  “Grandmotherish?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Is it lonely back here, with your grandparents in the main house?”

  “Not now,” he said, engulfing me in his strong embrace.

  We settled in his guesthouse for a quiet afternoon. We talked a little about my research into werewolf folklore and how I wondered if there could possibly be a cure that wasn’t a silver bullet. I mentioned meeting Dr. Meadows again, but Brandon still wasn’t sure he wanted to reveal his secret. While Brandon spent some time researching werewolves on his computer, I leafed through the books he had on his shelf. I saw a vintage Hardy Boys and pulled it out. Pictures were stuffed inside. I examined the first one.

  I was stunned. Staring back at me was the same picture Mr. Worthington had in his room. I turned the picture over and inscribed in pencil was the name Claire Worthington.

  I was afraid to speak.

  “Who is this woman?” I asked.

  Brandon turned to me. “She’s my mother.”

  I gasped.

  “What?” he asked. “It’s like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  “I just . . .” I began.

  “I haven’t seen her since I was a kid,” he said. “I was raised by my father.”

  “Brandon, I’ve seen this picture before.”

  “What? You couldn’t have. Where, here?”

  “I know this man at the retirement community. He’s so kind, and a gentleman. We spend a lot of time talking, and recently he told me the story of his great-grandfather, who was bitten by a wolf.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “He said that his great-grandfather was never the same.”

  “Sounds familiar.”

  “This man I know, his name is Charles Worthington. Do you know him?”

  “No.”

  “He has a granddaughter. Her name is Claire Worthington.”

  “That must be a coincidence.”

  “You told me your mother’s family moved away.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Well, no one told you that one of them moved back.”

  Brandon was trying to process this new information.

  “It’s more than coincidence, Brandon. My friend Mr. Worthington is your great-grandfather!”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Surprise Visitor

  Ivy, Abby, and Nash and I were hanging out after school in the gymnasium. Nash and Abby were waiting for their various athletic practices to begin, and I was trying to stall until I’d be in the clear to catch up with Brandon and take him to Penny for Your Thoughts. I glanced out one of the windows and spotted a woman with long gray hair and bundled up in a tan parka roaming our campus sidewalk as if she was looking for someone in particular.

  I pressed my face closer to the glass and recognized it was Dr. Meadows.

  “What is she doing here?” Ivy asked, also spotting the psychic.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I better find out.”

  ”Why would you want to do that?”

  I headed down the bleachers and raced ahead before my friends could follow me. I opened the gymnasium doors and caught up to the psychic.

  “What are you doing here?” I w
hispered.

  “You didn’t show up at my store. I was concerned something happened to you,” she said.

  “I’ve been trying to convince him to see you. It’s taking some time. But I think he will.”

  “That is great,” she said. “But it has to be soon.”

  “We discovered it’s in his blood,” I said softly. “The lycan lineage goes generations back.”

  “Which one is he?” she asked. “No, wait—don’t tell me.”

  Just then my friends, their beaux, and Nash opened the gymnasium doors. Dr. Meadows pointed to Nash.

  I half laughed.

  “I must see him at night,” she said urgently, looking at Nash.

  “But it’s not a full moon again for weeks.”

  “I know, but this way I can document him before and after. I’ll bring my equipment.”

  “Equipment?” It sounded painful and at the very least intrusive.

  I was desperate to find a cure for Brandon’s condition; however, at what cost I wasn’t sure.

  “I must have documentation,” Dr. Meadows said, stumbling on her words. “It will be okay, I promise.”

  “What kind of documentation?” I said. “He needs to sign something?” I pried.

  “Nothing invasive. Just something I can replay. To make sure what he is experiencing is real.”

  “I can guarantee you it’s real,” I said hurriedly.

  My friends were staring at us. Dr. Meadows stared back as if she was examining Nash.

  Then she turned her attention to me. “I need proof in order to find out how to deal with it.”

  I didn’t want my true love to be filmed, hooked up to electrodes or possibly other torture devices.

  “I was hoping for a potion,” I said. “Or some charm he could wear around his neck.”

  “If you are hoping for a cure, this is the only way.”

  I left Dr. Meadows and returned to my friends.

  “What is she doing here at school?” they asked.

  “She was looking for a werewolf,” I said truthfully. “That woman is so crazy.”

  Nash continued to watch Dr. Meadows until she got into her car and drove off.

  When I met Brandon after school, I admitted to him that Dr. Meadows had shown up at school and that she wanted to document him. I didn’t want to trick him into doing something he wasn’t prepared for or willing to participate in.