“Do you think I should do more with it? I mean, something like what you’re doing… being a healer and all.”
“You must do what’s in your heart.”
“I don’t know what’s in my heart anymore.”
“Kindness,” Bettina assured her. “Faith in others. Hope. All the things you already bring to those you help with Angel’s programs.”
“But maybe I can do more with it.”
“Quizá, quizá no,” Bettina replied. “Time will tell. But one thing…”
“Yes?”
“Promise me you’ll be careful with whatever future commissions you accept.”
Ellie smiled and gave her another hug. “That I can promise you.”
Salvador and Nuala came out of the house when Bettina and her wolf emerged from the woods and followed the pickup out onto the lawn. They stood together to watch the vehicle drive away, the pickup moving effortlessly across the slick ice and slush that made the lane so treacherous.
“How is that possible?” Salvador murmured.
“The same way you’ve been kept dry and warm,” el lobo told him. “By stepping in between this world and the one beyond.”
Salvador made the sign of the cross.
“No este nervioso,” Bettina told him. Don’t be nervous. “Nothing here will harm you now.”
Salvador nodded and gave her an unhappy look.
“Have you always been a part of… all of this?” he asked her.
“Sí. But I didn’t lie to you. I simply never spoke of it.”
“No, por supuesto qué no…”
She could see the unspoken word in his eyes, for all that he tried to hide it.
Bruja. Witch.
His hand twitched because he would not allow himself to insult her by making the sign of the cross to her face. It saddened her that such a simple word could make her friend fearful of her. The small charms she’d made were one thing—even Maria Elena had asked for one. But witchcraft…
She remembered how occasionally children back home, daring each other until one braver than the rest would call out to her abuela—
¡Bruja! ¡Bruja! ¡Bruja!
—before they would all run away, shrieking with laughter and fright.
“No,” she said, responding to the unspoken epithet she saw now in Salvador’s eyes. “There is no need for you to be wary of me.”
“I mean no disrespect…”
“Salvador, por favor. I am who I have always been. It’s true I have brujería in my blood, but I am a curandera. I don’t harm; I heal.”
He said nothing for a long moment. Then he swallowed, gaze darting momentarily to el lobo before returning to settle on her.
“When this is over,” he said, waving a hand to indicate the ice storm. “You and… and your friend. You will come to dinner at my home?”
“Oh, Salvador,” she cried.
She gave him a hug, careful to keep her hands in the air. He was stiff for only a moment before he enfolded her in his arms.
“I am going away,” she told him as she finally stepped back. “But I will return so that we can be your guests.”
He smiled and went off content, leaving only Nuala for them still to speak with, but when they turned to her, they found the housekeeper was already gone. Bettina sighed. She was still only one step away from exhaustion, but she wanted to finish this now. To pack up her things and be gone. The marvels of winter no longer held any charm for her. The dreary endless rain weighed on her spirit in a way that the frost and snow never had. She was tired of the cold, tired of the horizons being so close.
The house seemed empty as they went to her room. Where was everyone?
They paused in the sculpting studio where Donal had called up the Glas-duine and stood there awhile in the doorway. The memory of what had been done here lay heavy in the room, a palatable presence of twisting shadows that made Bettina shiver. She turned away and led her wolf to the hidden alcove that was her bedroom.
El lobo helped her gather her things, being the hands she could not use herself at the moment. There was not a great deal to pack. She left most of the books, taking only her clothing and the artwork she’d been given, which she meant to leave with Adelita.
“What of these?” el lobo asked.
He indicated the colorful carved dogs her sister had sent. They still stood ranged around the feet of the Virgin. She nodded and he stowed them away in her suitcase.
Finally they went down to the kitchen. Nuala was sitting there, alone, staring out at the miserable night. El lobo set Bettina’s suitcase and backpack down by the back door. Bettina stood in the doorway through which they’d entered, waiting for the housekeeper to acknowledge their presence, but el lobo approached Nuala first. When he was a few steps away, Nuala looked up and el lobo went down on one knee in front of her.
“Lady,” he said. “I hope you won’t think ill of the one who brings you the bad news.”
“What bad news?”
“An felsos… they didn’t survive.”
Nuala’s lip twitched, “What makes you think I care?” she asked
“Lady, I know they were your sons.”
“And you?” she said. “I suppose you now expect to take their place.”
“I would not presume.” He hesitated a moment, then added. “And I was never like them.”
Her steady gaze lay on him. “No, you are all the parts they discarded—isn’t that the tale you tell?”
He shook his head. “I do not tell tales.”
Bettina hated seeing her wolf be like this. With all she’d learned recently, she felt Nuala deserved no one’s respect, least of all his. She walked to his side, laid a hand carefully on his shoulder.
“They were your children,” she told the housekeeper.
“I didn’t ask for them,” Nuala replied. “And look how they turned out—the spitting image of their sire.”
“Because you abandoned them.”
“Do you really think so? You know nothing of the true nature of these wolves.”
“I know that everyone, human or spirit, can become the being you expect them to be. If they had been mine, I would never have abandoned them.”
“I would do it again,” Nuala said.
“I’m sorry for you.”
Nuala shook her head. “Come speak to me of this again when you’ve experienced rape and exile from all you hold dear.”
Bettina turned away. Her wolf joined her and gathered up her belongings.
“Did your grandmother never teach you about the dangers of consorting with wolves?” Nuala called after her.
“Yes,” Bettina told her. She looked back and met the housekeeper’s gaze. “She also taught me about forgiveness.”
She stepped outside with her wolf and he closed the door behind them before the housekeeper could respond.
“I would have liked to have said goodbye to some of the others,” Bettina said as they crossed the lawn, walking back towards the woods.
“You’ll be back,” her wolf said. When she made no comment, he added, “Won’t you?”
Bettina nodded. “Mas pronto o mas tarde.” Sooner or later.
She glanced at her companion, but his features were expressionless. She wanted to explain that she couldn’t stay here, it wasn’t her home. That if she’d come here to heal herself, then the process was only begun. It could only be completed at home. In the desert. But the words were locked in her throat. He had to stay; she had to go. It left them little room to get to know each other any better, less still to make a life together.