The Porch Wolf

Olivia Andersen’s POV

Brent and I drove to Woodbury to look at rings. I was wearing a turtleneck and a loose-weave sweater, making sure my mating bite was covered. I didn’t need any humans thinking I’d been attacked until the mating bite scarred over. Brent said that the visual warning of the scar to other werewolves was just part of what the mating bite did. It also mixed our scents, the combination telling others that we were mated and who our mate was. “You’ll learn just how much you can find out by scent alone as you get used to our life,” he told me. “It’s not just that we have unique scents that you can track or recognize. You’ll be able to break their smell down to where you can tell their rank and Pack. You’ll be able to tell if they are in the fertile portion of their cycle or pregnant. You can tell if they are happy, horny, nervous, or terrified. You can tell if they are getting sick.”

“It’s like a dog?”

“Humans know that dogs have a sense of smell far more sensitive than theirs, and they can be trained to use it. Dogs can tell many things from urine left on a signpost. We do the same thing, you know.”

“You pee on signposts?”

“We mark the edge of our territory. When you can shift again, we’ll run it together. The Alpha’s scent is strong to reflect his dominance. He marks the trees to claim the area and warn others away. Pack leadership will often add their own marks in between to back up his claim.”

I just shook my head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever understand what I’ve gotten into here.” The last thing I wanted to do was to find some days-old urine stain and stick my nose in it.

“It gets better,” he told me as he squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry about how this all ended up; I’m sure you didn’t grow up thinking you’d get bitten before you got a ring.”

“You are current on your rabies vaccination, correct? I didn’t see a tag on your collar when you jumped into bed,” I teased. “It’s all right, Brent. I liked you from the first time I saw you, but I was scared. So much was going on, and it was all I could do to stay strong for my daughter.”

“You did that. You are amazingly strong, and you’ve done a great job raising Vicki,” he said. I blushed as I turned away at the praise. My parents had told me to give up my baby because a teenage single mom couldn’t be as good a parent as she would have with a married couple. I would like to think I proved them wrong; Vicki was a great kid. “The good news is that you can pick out just the ring you want, provided it is under one thousand, nine hundred and eighty-seven dollars with tax.”

“I’m not going to wipe out your savings,” I said.

“I don’t want to dip into my thousand-dollar emergency fund,” he replied. “Alpha Leo said he would pay for our wedding, though it will be modest. He would like us to choose the wedding venue, and the Pack will host a reception in the back yard. Leo and Catherine used to hold epic pool parties in the summer, and you know it will have lots of food.”

I thought about it; the wedding was for legal reasons and human interaction. In the werewolf world, our bond was present and unbreakable. “Could I invite my friends? Girls I worked with, friends from back home?”

“Sure. Alpha just orders no shifting while humans are around.” I started to cry as we pulled off the freeway. “What’s wrong, Liv?”

“When I was a kid, Mom and I would talk about the wedding I’d have. We had a lot of fun talking about it. Then after I was disowned, I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t date, I didn’t have time for men, and marriage wasn’t anything I worried about. Now that I’m planning a wedding, I don’t have my parents in my life, and my grandmother is gone.”

“The Pack will help you; I’m sure Anita will be thrilled.”

“I know.” I wiped the tear away. “Do you think they’ll be able to get a ring to match the wedding bands we found?” Wolves didn’t do silver, and I didn’t like gold for jewelry. We could do white gold, but when I started looking online, I fell in love with a matched wedding band set made of tungsten carbide. It was engraved with trees and wolves howling into the sky. It was reasonably priced, beautiful, and practical, perfect for my new life. I wanted an engagement ring that would look right next to it.

We pulled into a store and talked with the jeweler. “You’re not going to find a match for that in a diamond setting,” he said. “Tungsten Carbide is strong but brittle. You can’t move the prongs around for the stone.”

“What would you recommend?”

“You’ll never get the silver color of the tungsten to match up with titanium, white gold, or silver. So, don’t try. Go with a black gold setting for the engagement ring. It will match the black color at the base of this pattern on the band,” he said. He found some examples; the darker matte color was a good match for what we saw on the screen. An hour later, Brent was on his knee, asking me to marry him, and he slid the half-carat diamond onto my finger as I said yes.

Even with the order of the wedding bands, which we verified sizes on at the store, we didn’t wipe out his savings. As we drove home with the setting sun, I kept looking down at my left hand. “It’s beautiful,” I said.

“You’re beautiful,” Brent replied. There were squeals of excitement as I showed everyone my ring when we got home, especially when I showed them the wedding bands we had ordered. It was unconventional, but so was our love.

As we left for the St. James, I could feel the good mood of the day slipping away. Brent noticed. “How do you want to handle this,” he said.

“I don’t want her to know anything more about my private life until I know if she will be included,” I said. “She would have seen you with me at the funeral with you, leaning on you. I should take this off,” I said.

“No. You are my fiance,’ and that isn’t up for discussion. It’s better to let her know you are moving on in your life, with or without her. Don’t take that ring off for her.”

“You’re right,” I said. “I’m not going to apologize for anything other than sleeping with John without protection. Everything I did after that, I’m proud of.”

“Damn right.” We parked nearby, and he held my hand as we took the elevator up to Jimmy’s. The hotel bar was old-fashioned, hearkening back to the days of speakeasies. Leather furniture, dark oak woodwork, and a wide selection of spirits and food awaited us per the website. I’d never been there.

I spotted Mom moments after walking in. She had taken one of the small tables near the window, the low leather chairs around it. She looked surprised that I didn’t show up with Vicki. “Mom, this is my fiance’, Brent Lawrence. Brent, my mother, Kathryn Andersen.”

Brent held out his hand to her; she paused for a moment, looking at my ring, then shook it briefly. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “We missed you at the funeral.”

“Thank you for coming,” she said. The waitress went off to get us diet cokes, plus another cocktail for Mom. I didn’t know if we’d be staying long enough to eat yet. “This is hard,” she said. “I’ve been told all my life that I needed to follow the lead of my husband, but I just can’t do it anymore. He was wrong to disown you, Olivia. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? About what? About pushing me away in my time of need? About valuing your reputation in the community above your own daughter? About pretending your granddaughter doesn’t exist?” Mom was crying now. It hit me. “Dad doesn’t know you’re talking to me, does he.”

She managed to shake her head, no. “He thinks I’m visiting my sister in Duluth.”

Wonderful. “Why are you here? You’ve never defied Father in anything.”

“And what did that gain me? My MOM died, and I didn’t talk to her for the last five years of her life because she took you in after we disowned you. Sitting in that church, I realized I would NEVER get that time back with her, or with you, or with Vicki. I have a granddaughter who is almost five, and she hates me.”

“Vicki doesn’t hate you any more than I do, Mom. She doesn’t understand.” I’d never talked badly about my parents in front of her, for just this reason.

“After Nick left for home, I called my pastor. I’d never told anyone the full story; for an hour, I poured out everything to him, ending with what Vicki asked me at the funeral. When I was done, I asked him what I should do.”

“What did he say,” Brent asked.

“He asked how it was working for me so far,” Mom said. “I broke down crying again. I told him my family was torn apart and I couldn’t bear to continue this way. He then told me what an IDIOT I was to do this to you. He reminded me that true love required forgiveness, and I had shown none. You made a mistake, but you moved forward and raised a wonderful little girl without us. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’d like to have you in my life again.”

Wow. “What is Dad going to say about this?”

“He and I will be having a long talk when I get home. I can’t go on like this, Olivia. I love you, and I miss you.”

Was it enough? Would my father change his mind? None of these questions mattered as I moved into my mother’s arms for the first time in almost six years. We let the pain and heartbreak of all those years out, in public, as the bar patrons tried to ignore us. Finally, I said those three words I never expected to say to her. “I forgive you.”