Chapter 15
Tuesday had mapped out the two ways to drive to his family’s mountain.
One route was a great deal shorter distance-wise, but whether they took the interstate up to Knoxville and came back down, or went directly east through the mountains — it appeared the drive time would be close enough it probably didn’t matter.
And damn, she’d have fun on those curves in her car.
But then she discovered Knife was thinking they’d take his road bike, which would also be fun, but…
She pulled up the weather forecast and saw a chance of rain Wednesday, when they’d be returning.
She showed him and said, “We can take turns driving my car, so you can play on the curves, too.”
He frowned. “We’ll need to make sure I’m covered for insurance in your car.”
“You are. I double-checked it with my agent when I changed my address with them.”
They left as soon as church was over Sunday morning with a single suitcase packed with vacuum bags in her trunk, since he needed to take a bunch of mason jars back to his mom, and they were wrapped in bubble wrap to fill the rest of the trunk and all the frunk.
He drove to Copper Hill, where they stopped to stretch their legs, get something to eat, and swap.
And he was still a terrible passenger.
But she decided he’d survive, so she took the curves the way one pretty much has to when driving a powerful car with suspension made for handling, and soft tires that fucking grip the road.
Eventually, he started paying way too much attention to the scenery, which she took as a compliment. She wasn’t sure it was, but she decided to take it that way.
They switched when they were about thirty minutes out. He’d told her before they left that Google wasn’t going to get them the last part of it, and it would just annoy them both for him to try to guide her. “The roads are made to be confusing,” he’d told her. “Part of our security.”
And he hadn’t been wrong.
She wasn’t watching his driving now so much as just looking at the forest they drove through, feeling the age and energy of the mountain he took them over, and then taking in the gorgeous scenery while they dipped down into a cove.
A huge gathering was already underway when they arrived, a large open area where tables had been set up end to end, with what had to be more than a hundred people in another part of the field standing in groups. Talking.
Everyone turned to look at them when Knife pulled up and parked, and he told her, “Looks like you’re going to meet everyone at once. Not a lot of people leave like I did, so I guess everyone wants to meet the woman I’ve chosen.”
“You’ve never brought someone to meet your parents and grandparents before?”
“Nope.”
He got out of the car before she could respond, and she muttered ‘right, but no pressure’ under her breath before she exited the passenger side and breathed in hundreds of wolves. A wolf pack, bound and joined by oaths.
It made her heart hurt for a moment, both with what he’d chosen to walk away from, and from what she’d lost.
But this was about new beginnings. She’d made her choices, and so had he, so she pushed the grief to the back of her mind. Today was about meeting his family and learning more about the man she loved.
A small group in the field broke off and walked toward them, and she knew without asking these were his parents and grandparents.
Four of them slowed and stopped about ten feet away, and an older man exuding the power of an alpha stepped to them.
“Grandfather,” Knife said. “This is Tuesday.”
Werewolves don’t age like humans, but this was an old man. Standing tall and obviously strong, but he had lots of wrinkles. How old had he been when he’d fathered Knife’s dad, she wondered.
His eyes seemed to see inside her, but she met his gaze without flinching. He wasn’t her alpha, and she wasn’t required to look down when in human form.
“Tuesday.”
He said it with weight. Gravity. She knew it would sound wrong for her to try to match it, so she merely kept her voice low. “Sir. It’s good to finally meet you.”
A pause, and then, “You will call me Grandfather.”
Knife had explained nearly everyone called him Grandfather. He’s the leader of the family and the alpha of the pack.
Papaw was warmer on the surface, quicker to smile, and shook her hand with both of his. Mamaw looked like she’d know how to kill a squirrel, skin and gut it, and have it on the table for dinner in a hearty stew hours later.
And then came introductions for Knife’s parents. His mother seemed to look inside her much as Grandfather had, while Knife’s dad seemed completely relaxed and friendly.
Knife turned to the rest of the crowd and told Tuesday, “Everyone else will introduce themselves as you meet them. There are a lot of us.”
She looked out at the gathering and thought about what it meant that he’d left all of this to go out into the world and live in society, rather than the sheltered life he’d grown up in.
And then Knife’s mother put a plate in her hand and pointed her toward the food tables, and she went.
Dinner wasn’t the interrogation she’d been worried about. Knife told them about her taking him to a Korean restaurant, and explained how it’s different. He talked a great deal about the difference in the way they cut their short ribs, and his grandfather was genuinely interested.
Of course, his grandfather had taught him how to be a butcher, so it made sense.
After dinner, people started organizing for games, and she noted it seemed the far end of the field was set up for permanent gameplay.
She’d never played horseshoes before, and that was where Knife led her first.
Her first throw was too wide, but her second found its range. She’d heard the phrase close only counts in horseshoes, hand grenades, and nuclear warfare, and she discovered the first part was accurate… you get points by being close.
She even managed to land a few ringers, but Knife still kicked her ass.
- - - ? - - -
As much as Knife enjoyed beating her at horseshoes, he was pleased to find out she was much better at cornhole. She’d clearly played this game before, and she more than held her own.
However, croquet was a different story, and she was hopelessly terrible at it. She could laugh at herself and still have fun though, so it was all good.
And then he took her to the corner with the knife throwing lanes, and knew when she lifted the knife and felt the balance, she had some experience.
Even with a knife she’d never thrown before, she hit bullseye on her first throw — and all but two for her next three dozen throws.
He’d taken her to a bar in East Ridge with axes and lanes you could rent, so he knew she’d be able to hold her own when they moved to that section.
But as soon as they rounded the corner and she saw people throwing axes, she turned to him and gave him a pointed look he could easily read. No wonder you were so good on our date. Probably something you should have shared with me.
He just smiled and shrugged. She was right, of course, but he’d had fun being better than her until she’d worked on her technique.
She met his siblings and cousins, his aunts and uncles, and everyone seemed to like her.
Later, sitting around the bonfire, those with cellphones pulled them out to look up her cooking channel when he told them about it.
For the longest, the family hadn’t allowed internet access, but those days were gone.
Everyone didn’t have a phone, but at least one person per family did.
When on the land, they had a radio system they used to call each other, but it was important for them to have a way to communicate with the outside world, too.
Tuesday wisely pointed them to her recipes for stew, chili, marinades for different kinds of meat, and potato recipes. He sent his mother to the collard greens show.
It wasn’t until they got to his grandfather’s house that Knife discovered the old man had remarried, and Dorcas had made changes.
It was the same ancient cabin that’d been added onto multiple times, but there were green curtains in the living room instead of navy, and red ones in the kitchen instead of the old white ones.
And different appliances. Newer. Not new, but newer. She’d probably brought hers with her.
Arriving to find a forty-one-year-old woman living with his one-hundred-and-seven-year-old grandfather was… jarring.
Why hadn’t they told him? Did they think it would upset him?
His grandfather only told him Dorcas had been widowed, but didn’t say what’d happened to her husband.
It’s hard to kill a young werewolf, but Knife didn’t want to ask how he’d died in front of Dorcas.
And it isn’t impossible. Just hard. His grandfather was on his third wife.
His first went for a run in wolf form and never returned.
They tracked her and found the scent of where she’d been killed, with a mountain lion’s scent nearby.
The second, his father’s mother, had died in a car crash that’d broken her neck bad enough to instantly kill her.
But he wasn’t bothered by his grandfather remarrying. His grandmother had been gone nearly fifteen years. He was happy for his grandfather, and even happier for him later that night, when the sounds coming from his bedroom told Knife they were still acting like newlyweds.
Tuesday got dressed and went into the kitchen when she heard the sounds of cooking the next morning, and Knife took his time getting a shower before he got some coffee and sat on the porch with his grandfather.
“She’s my world, Grandfather. I was going to leave my club so we could be together.
If I’d known what she’d planned, I’d have done it, to keep her from giving up…
” He shrugged. “I know how bad it hurts. Having the connection severed. Never would I have wanted her to go through it, but she did. For me.”
It worried Knife that his grandfather hadn’t questioned her the night before. Had kept everything casual. Nothing personal.
“She’s worldly. Paris. Italy. New York. San Francisco. Hawaii. Her job takes her to glamorous places, and she works with foods you want to learn about. Are you sure that isn’t what draws you to her?”
“It’s only a small part of it, Grandfather.”
They were called in to breakfast, and Knife was both relieved and stressed when his grandfather literally interrogated her over steak and eggs while he watched her like a wolf assessing prey before taking chase.
“Why did you leave your pack?” his grandfather asked out of the blue before he took his second bite.
Tuesday didn’t flinch. “Because true love doesn’t come along every day. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices to do what’s right and necessary.”
“And what does leaving say about your loyalty?”
“It says I was loyal to who I am. To what both I and my wolf knew to be true.”
He took another bite. Drank some coffee. Taking his time. “What are your intentions with my grandson?”
She met his gaze with a frown. “Intentions? Nothing beyond sharing my life with him.” She looked at Knife with a smile and added, “Walking hand in hand with him into old age.”
“Where do you see yourselves in fifty years?”
She turned back to Knife’s grandfather. “I won’t dare try to guess where fate puts us in fifty years, but we both come from nuclear families who are still together, so I’d like to think we have a better than average chance of still holding hands and watching sunsets together fifty years from now.”
His grandfather looked at her for a long moment, then back at his coffee.
“Tell me more about this idea of balance for Asian cooking. You said five different flavors?”
Tuesday talked to him about the balance of savory, sweet, sour, bitter, and spicy. She broke down the ingredients for each, pointing out that Worcestershire can do what soy sauce does, and suggesting other substitutions along the way.
It kept breakfast conversation away from unpleasant things, and his grandfather took what she was saying and ran with it, considering what he might do the next time they made a big stew to test the theory.
She wrote out what she does for beef stew to find that balance, and he put her note on the corkboard.
Knife was proud of Tuesday for holding her own while questioned, but he had no idea if her answers had been enough.
What would he do if his grandfather refused?
Because telling her anyway would finish the break with his family, but he saw no other way. Their wolves needed to run together, and keeping this huge secret from her forever simply wasn’t an option.
He’d very nearly lost his family for good when he’d wanted to tell his club what he was, so he could run with them. Only Duke and Brain knew the words for what he is. The rest of the club only knew he was a huge wolf, and that this was a club secret. One not to be shared even with other chapters.
If his grandfather refused him, if Tuesday wasn’t allowed to run with them that night, they would have to pack up and leave. Go home to run with his brothers. One way or another, she’d know what he was before the evening arrived.
He only hoped he still had a relationship with his family at the end of the day.
After breakfast, the four of them walked through the woods, showing Tuesday the nearby river and a few waterfalls the family had been careful to keep off maps, lest outsiders try to hike across private property to see them.
These were Knife’s woods in a way no other place could ever be. His own little couple of acres came close, but his family owned this entire mountain, and both man and wolf drank in the deep green energy of an Appalachian mountain forest in the heart of summer.
Forty minutes in, his grandfather stopped, looked at Knife, and said, “You have my permission.”
Relief flowed through every cell in his system and hit him like a dam giving way. His hands were already moving to the hem of his shirt before his mind caught up to them.