Chapter 14 Mellie
Mellie
Jas
It’s official. We’ve done it. We adopted the ketahnsi and named her Mellie. Like her name, she's special and sweet like honey.
What better way to start the weekend? We are now guardians of our deck-visiting two-tailed creature. She’s curled up in the back seat beside Seren, nose buried deep into her thick fur, her tails wrapped tightly around her sides for extra warmth.
Seren’s face is full of joy. She won’t stop smiling and whispering, “Is she ours? We get to keep her?”
After researching, I discovered we could adopt her. I took it as a sign from Kerathea—divine intervention—a blessing and a new beginning for us.
At Fern and Fable Veterinary, we had her examined, and they declared her healthy and a little over a year old.
Seren practically vibrated with excitement when we shopped at the pet shop, its windows brimming with adorable pet bandanas, sweaters, home decor for the pet-loving parents, and colorful toys.
We bought a cat tree, bowls, and a few toys Seren picked out, including a cute wand toy with a ribbon to play with our new pet. I couldn’t say no to buying that.
We dropped everything off at home and set it up before heading to Groves Bee Farm. The country roads are scenic and peaceful. Seren is excited to show the newest family member to her grandparents before Dominik comes over for dinner tonight.
A sliver of nerves knots in my stomach, twisting like roots. What is his wolf going to think of the ketahnsi? Do werewolves like other animals? I can picture it now: claws, teeth, canines bared, and barking. Howling too. Definitely howling.
Maybe I’m letting my imagination get the best of me. His wolf might be amused and think she’s cute with her fluffy tails and bright eyes. There will be no fighting and no wolves eating pets. It’ll be okay.
Pebbles crunch beneath the tires as we pull into the gravel driveway. As soon as I cut the engine, Seren jumps out, Mellie alongside her—already inseparable.
“Can you help me keep an eye on her, sweetheart?”
“Yes! Come on, Mellie!” she shrieks in delight, running into the field of wildflowers. The keta is on her heels, chasing butterflies.
The bee farm stretches out before us. The hum of the honeybees drifts on the breeze. Colorful hives in reds, blues, and yellows are set up partially in the shade near a row of large trees next to the floral and vegetable gardens. All planted to keep the busy colonies happy and well-nourished.
I remember my first visit with Aaryn here at the farm.
How he softly greeted the bees as they drifted lazily from flower to flower, their tiny legs dusted with yellow pollen.
He whispered to them, and I couldn't understand what he was saying, but it was fascinating and beautiful all at once.
We would lie on a blanket in the fields and dream together, sealing each promise with a kiss.
Elowen and Lorien work in silence, suited in white beekeeping suits. Lorien’s bent over, lifting a frame from one of the boxes while Elowen works alongside him, holding it still. The amber rays make the honeycomb shine like gold.
“Hey there!” I call out, waving.
They look up in unison, mesh veils blocking their faces. Lorien is taller and broader-shouldered. Elowen is a few inches shorter.
“Well, if it isn’t two of my three favorite girls,” Lorien's voice rings out.
Seren skips through the fields, clutching her own colorful bouquet before running over.
“Hi, Papa!” Seren squeals. “We have a new pet! Her name is Mellie.”
His laugh rolls across the clearing. “Give us a moment, and we’ll come meet the newest member of the Groves family.”
Once finished, he walks over, pulling off his hood and running his hand through thick, chestnut-brown, grey-streaked hair. He hugs me.
“Hey, Jas, you two picked a good day to visit,” he says. “They’re calm today.”
“Looks like you’ve got them happy.” I smile. “It’s good to see you both.”
My eyes drift back to Elowen. She finally turns toward us, lifting her veil, and takes a few steps forward.
“Hi,” she says, eyes squinting slightly, sharing a small smile.
I say hello and wave back. She’s become a woman of few words. There’s a weight, heavy in the silence between Elowen and me from shared loss and years of things left unsaid.
Lorien kneels on the grass, hugging Seren before he greets our keta. Her tails sway as she sniffs the back of his hand, giving his knuckles a small lick. She jumps onto her hind legs, her paws pressed against his knee, and her head tilting like a wise owl.
I listen to Seren talk to her grandparents. Their faces light up at every word. Elowen tells us she will see us soon after she checks on a few more hives. Lorien kisses her on the cheek, and I follow behind him and Seren to the honey house.
“How is she?” I ask once we walk through the doors. He gets a small box and places a few jars of honey into it for us to take home. His gaze drifts to where the trees frame his wife.
“Today is a good day,” he says finally, offering me a steady smile. It’s the kind of smile a man has who stood by a woman through heavy days and held her through sleepless nights, still believing in a bright tomorrow.
At the pulley elevator, the wagon wheels squeak under the weight of our grocery bags when we step onto the thick, sturdy wooden platform. Together, we lift the brake, divert the stream's water, and rise upward until we reach our sky bridge.
Once inside, Seren leads Mellie to her new bowls. I drop the bags on the kitchen counter and pull out my phone.
Me: Still coming over? I’m making your favorite. And Seren wants to practice for the play too.
Dom: Smothered chicken? Hell yes. Can’t wait! Okay, tell her I’m excited! See you soon!
Something flickers low in my chest. Like when your heart skips a beat, a jolt that steals my breath. Like I’m worried, excited…a little afraid. Of what I don’t know, so I shove it down.
“Mama, watch!” Seren’s voice floats over.
“I’m watching,” I say, giving her my full attention, watching her twirl for a few moments.
She sings and does her little dance about being a little bumblebee that is no longer shy and is finally excited to explore the new surroundings of spring outside the hive.
She’s excited and nervous for her special part in the upcoming performance.
Perhaps it’s sympathy nerves for her? She’s growing up too fast for me.
I set the phone aside and wash my hands to start dinner prep. Smothered chicken with mashed potatoes, green beans, and a side salad.
The rich aroma of chicken cooking golden brown fills the kitchen, and I start the green beans. My hips begin to sway to the beat of the music, the notes drift through the kitchen and into the living room, where Seren continues to play.
I drizzle more olive oil into the pan, adding it to the peppers, garlic, and onion.
Seren runs into the kitchen, nearly bumping into me. “Can I help stir?”
“Not with this part,” I say, stirring the vegetables in the pan. "It's too hot.” I aim to kiss the top of her head, but she dodges out of my way.
“I want to help! I never get to help!” She stomps her little foot and crosses her arms, a pout spreading across her face.
I take a deep breath. I don’t like this stage—where she will get super upset at no or when she isn’t getting her way, she speaks in absolutes. Welcome to life, kiddo.
“How about you and I make the best salad ever?”
“Fine," she huffs, rolling her eyes, "but salad is just okay, Mom. It isn’t the best.” Alright then. Five going on fifteen.
Goddess, take the wheel.
She helps me by getting the ingredients out of the fridge within her reach, clutching lettuce, a cucumber, and a tomato in her arms. Meanwhile, I whisk the flour into the simmering pan drippings and tender vegetables until the gravy thickens. I add the chicken and put the pan into the oven.
Seren stands at the step stool near the sink, giving the tomato a good wash like I’ve shown her before. Together we prepare the salad. I chop, and she mixes while I finish the sides.
I turn the music up—a bright, happy rhythm. I close my eyes and let the melody dissolve my knot of worries—Seren’s happiness, my uncertain dating life—with a good song, it helps the heavy shit fade away, if only for a moment.
My hips sway, and my arms lift. My fleece-covered feet slide on the floor as I move to the music. Tingles crawl up my spine, and the feeling of being watched traces my skin. I whirl around.
Dominik stands frozen, watching me with that stupid half-smile on his face. Pink faerie wine shimmers in a bottle in one hand and a bouquet of colorful flowers in the other. And for some reason, I’m standing here with a ridiculous grin on my face.
“You know,” he says, voice low enough for my ears only, “you really do shake your ass a lot when you dance.”