“Let’s meet Wednesday nights at the hospital café. Around six?”
“That sounds good. I look forward to seeing you next week and am truly sorry for scaring you tonight.” He held out his hand for a handshake.
I looked at him closely and ignored his hand. Instead, I decided to go for blunt. “You’re not going to turn creepy uncle on me, are you, Sam?” I honestly didn’t expect him to admit it if he did have that planned. I just wanted to see his reaction to the question.
He barked out a laugh and dropped his hand back to his side. When he saw I remained serious, he sobered.
“I suppose that’s a fair question, given what you’ve just told me. With me, you’re safe. Honey, I’m older than I look. Heck, I’m probably old enough to be your great grandfather.” He looked at me for a moment. I mean really looked at me, studying my face as if he could read all my secrets there.
“When I look at you, I see a young girl I want to help. I see a grandchild I could have had if only I’d met my one and only. And I see hope.”
Fair enough. I’d wait until next week to pass any further judgments.
“All right, then. I’ve got to get home. See you next week.”
He nodded his goodbye.
Reluctantly, I turned my back on him. Fear skittered along my spine as I walked away. My feet whispered through the grass until I reached the paved walk. When I looked back, he no longer stood by the pond, but I monitored his progress with my other sight as he left the park.
My already complicated life had just gotten more so. I took a huge risk meeting with a complete stranger, but how could I refuse? Learning about him and his kind might give me more insight, if not actual answers about my abilities‒abilities that had caused me so much grief over the years. I really wanted an explanation.
When I got home, it was later than I thought. Barb and Tim waited for me in the kitchen. They fed me dinner and sat with me at the table while I explained what kept me. I didn’t mention a werewolf, just an old friend of my grandfather’s I’d bumped into.
I mentioned my plans to meet up with him at the hospital the next week to talk some more. Barb looked at Tim with worry a moment before Tim asked when they’d get to meet him. I asked for their patience and said I wanted to get to know Sam—again—first.
Three weeks later, I exited the sliding glass hospital doors with Sam. We both eyed the dark clouds. The imminent downpour had cleared the usually bustling sidewalks, but the charged air filled me with anticipation.
I turned to Sam. “What do you think? Still want to go? We will probably get wet.”
Sam, dressed in his unusually trendy attire for an old guy, continued to study the sky as we walked toward the bus stop.
He had been kind and informative during the first two meetings, telling me as much as he could in such a public place about his “relatives” in the hour I allotted for our meetings. Wary of outsiders, many of his kind chose to live in a closed community across the Canadian border. It had plenty of land, and the rural population of the surrounding area allowed them more space to roam freely. It also had a few old buildings that, up until twenty years ago, had been more for show than living.
After the marriage of their leader, things changed. The leader's new wife helped the community see they'd slipped too far from society and that their only chance to survive was to adapt.
A few people agreed and left to help reintegrate. A few more stayed in the buildings and started making small improvements. However, several of the structures needed larger-scale remodeling and, collectively, Sam’s “relatives” just didn’t have the money for it. Although remote, a few of the community’s members ventured out to find work in nearby towns and supplemented the income needed to support their not yet fully self-sufficient way of life.
Gradually, those who'd denied the need for change started seeing the reality of what they'd become...a dying species...and more of the men not yet married went out looking for work. When the leader’s sons were old enough, they too left.
Sam had been sent even further from the community to get the lay of the land in a more urban setting. Trying to blend, he’d decided he needed to dress more like the people of the area. At that point in his narrative, I’d wondered what he’d been wearing. Furs? When he’d gone shopping, he’d asked a sales clerk’s advice regarding what to buy. The sales clerk had been about my age, which explained Sam’s trendy choice of clothes.
It amazed me how much I’d learned about the man walking next to me. The compassion for his people’s plight impressed upon me his selflessness, and watching him interact with other people around us, showed he had a sense of humor. Those defining characteristics had decided it for me—it was time to introduce him to Tim and Barb.
We’d reached the bus stop without a drop of rain.
“A little rain never hurt anyone,” he said answering my earlier question.
Another thing I liked about Sam. He sensed when I was lost in my own thoughts and let me be.
“Okay, I’ll text Barb and let her know you’ll be coming over. They’ve been asking about you every week.” He looked at me questioningly.
“I mentioned you that first night we met in the park. They wanted to know why I was late. I said I ran into an old acquaintance, a friend of my grandfather’s.”
A city bus drew to a halt in front of the sheltered bus stop. Sam and I waited for the other passengers to board. He surprised me by pulling out his own city bus pass to pay. The familiar driver looked at me curiously when I took my normal place behind him and slid over on the worn grey vinyl seat to make room for Sam.
Sam and I didn’t talk much on the bus ride. Instead, I watched out the window, waiting expectantly for the rain.
At our stop, Sam stood and exited. He didn’t offer me his hand. After only knowing me a short while, he knew I didn’t like to be touched. It wasn’t that I didn’t like being touched. I didn’t like growing attached. When you touched people, you developed attachments. Then, when they left, it made it harder to say goodbye.
He waited for me to hop down from the last step then fell in beside me as we made our way down the paved park path. Although we still had an hour of daylight left, the dark storm clouds writhing in the sky above cast the city into an early dusk. Ever since Sam had revealed himself to me, tension drove me to walk quickly through the park. Particularly in the dark. I liked having someone to walk home with me, even if that someone had started the whole thing. In Sam’s company, I didn’t worry as much.
“You’re certain I won’t disrupt things at home just popping in like this?”
“I don’t think you can disrupt it any more than it’s been,” I said. “Barb, my foster mom is pregnant, which really is a good thing. Barb and Tim have been trying to get pregnant for years. Thinking they’d never have kids of their own, they decided to foster.”
We were halfway across the park. Sam slowed to give me more time to talk. I hadn’t mentioned any of this to him before. The swings in the abandoned playground to our right started to sway in the increasing winds, their older chains squeaking slightly with each forward swing.
“They own a cute little two bedroom house. If she carries the baby to term, there won’t be enough room, you know?” I kept my eyes focused on the path, not wanting to see his expression. “Because she hasn’t yet passed her first term, they haven’t notified my social worker.”
I had no regret. I really did feel happy for Barb and Tim, and I’d moved around enough in foster care to know the drill. Plus, I counted down the days...months...until I turned eighteen, legally free from anyone’s guardianship.