So it wasn’t just to see her, Ellie thought, unaccountably pleased. But then he added:
“And I want to be with you.”
And that pleased her even more.
“No pressure,” he said. “I mean, I don’t even know how you feel about, you know, us. Or even the possibility of there being an ‘us.’ But I want to get to know you better and that’s not going to happen sitting in my apartment reading magazines and listening to music. I…” He shrugged and smiled. “I’m talking too much.”
“It’s okay,” Ellie said. “I’m enjoying it.”
She pulled over to the curb where a few homeless men were sitting on a hot air grate, hunching their shoulders against the wind that came down the alley behind them. Hunter got out and went around to the side of the van, getting coffees and sandwiches to bring over to them. For awhile Ellie stood by the van, watching the easy way he had in talking to the men, treating them like individuals, like people, instead of looking down on them, before she walked over as well, offering them blankets, warmer clothes, a ride to a shelter.
“What about you?” Hunter asked when they were back in the van and driving once more.
“What about me what?”
“How did what happened to us affect you?”
“Like I said,” she told him. “I’m trying not to think of it right now. I’m not trying to think of anything, really.”
“Oh.”
She smiled. “But so far I like this getting-to-know-each-other-better part a lot.”
2
Two weeks had passed in the World As It Is when Bettina and her wolf came out of la epoca del mito into the western bajada of the Santa Rita Mountains south of Tucson. The sun was just rising behind them, flooding their view with its dawn light. A wide plain stretched westward, grasslands dotted with mesquite, cholla, prickly pear, and tall, spindly ocatillos. With the early sun upon it, the plain appeared to be a vast luminescent field, glowing with its own inner light. In the distance they could see a band of lusher vegetation that followed the meandering banks of the Santa Cruz River. The temperature was in the high fifties, not warm, but not unpleasant. Bettina knew it would warm up before long.
“This is hardly a desert,” el lobo said.
Bettina nodded. “My friend Ban says that life zones converge in Pima County. A hike from Tucson to the top of the Santa Catalina Mountains is like traveling from Mexico to Canada.”
Her wolf smiled.
“De verdad. Someday I’ll take you up Mount Lemmon—you’ll think you’re back home, walking under the oaks and pines.”
“I would make this my home, wherever you are…”
His voice went soft and trailed off. His gaze remained on the distant view.
“But you can’t,” Bettina said after a moment. “I understand. I would not have you break your word.”
They both had debts. At least her wolf knew the limits of his. She had no idea what los cadejos would ask of her.
“We can still make this work,” she added.
She shifted the straps of her backpack so that it hung more comfortably, then took his free hand and led him off across the grasslands, the tall yellowed blades whispering against their light cotton pants. She could have carried her suitcase, but her wolf wouldn’t let her.
“Let me be useful,” he’d told her when she brought it up earlier.
“You are much more than useful,” she’d replied and stood on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth.
Two weeks in la epoca del mito had been time enough for her brujería to heal her hands. While her palms and the flats of her fingers remained scarred, the skin tight and still reddened, the pain was gone and she had regained most of her flexibility. But the look of them left her feeling terribly self-conscious. Her wolf’s response was to hold them and kiss her palms, even when they weren’t making love.
It took them the rest of the morning to reach the banks of the Santa Cruz. It was cool under the shade of the cottonwoods and willows and the water was chilly when they waded across.
“Your sister lives here?” el lobo asked as they came out from under the trees and walked up Bridge Road to the tiny central core of Tubac.
Bettina shook her head. “But she doesn’t live far away. Her gallery is here.”
The village was only three blocks long and three blocks wide and they soon reached Adelita’s gallery, their pant legs still damp from their wade across the river. La Gata Verde was on Tubac Road, across from Tortuga Books and nestled in amongst a collection of shops and galleries selling pottery, clothing, jewelry, paintings, and Mexican folk art. The street was crowded with tourists, most of them snowbirds, migrating down to Arizona to take in the warmer weather that their own northern climes couldn’t provide at this time of year.
A little bell chimed as they walked into the gallery and a small, dark-haired woman who could have been Bettina’s twin looked up. Her welcoming smile broke into a huge grin when she recognized her sister.
“Bettina!” she cried, coming out from behind the counter, startling an elderly couple who were browsing through the art prints. “¡Dios mio! What are you doing here? And who is this handsome man?”
Bettina smiled and returned her sister’s hug.
“He’s… his name is Lobo,” she said.
When she glanced at her wolf, there was a twinkle of amusement in his eye.
“Lobo,” Adelita said, turning to look at him. “Such a fierce name. But better than Loco, ¿tu no crees?”
“And this is my sister Adela,” Bettina told her wolf.
“But everyone still calls me Adelita,” her sister said.
El lobo set the suitcase down and reached out a hand, but Adelita gave him a hug instead. Bettina smiled at his surprise.
“She can be very… exuberant,” she said.
Adelita stepped back, smiling as well. “He is too handsome not to hug.”
She started to draw them back behind the counter, taking el lobo by one hand, Bettina by the other. The roughness of her sister’s palm drew her gaze down.
“¡Madrede Dios!” she cried. “What have you done to yourself?”
Bettina quickly pulled her hands away from her sister’s scrutiny and thrust them into the pockets of her pants.
“It’s a very long story,” she said. “I’m fine now.”
“But, Bettina…”
“Verdaderos.”
“And you’re all wet,” Adelita added. “Both of you.”
“We waded across the river.”
“But… whatever for? Where were you coming from?”
“The Santa Ritas.”
Adelita shook her head. She was about to go on, but noticed her customers were leaving. Bettina couldn’t help but feel guilty, sure that Adelita’s exuberant reaction to herself and her wolf had driven them away.
“Gracias,” Adelita called after them. “Please come again.”
When the couple had left, el lobo crossed to the door and locked it, turning the OPEN sign to CLOSED. Adelita didn’t appear to notice. She looked from one to the other, then shook her head again.
“Así, “she said to el lobo, her voice bright, the way Bettina knew her own went when she was ill at ease and didn’t quite know what to say. “How do you find Arizona? Or are you a native?”