“There’s nothing wrong with him,” she protested. “He’s a little idiosyncratic, but—”
“What’s really going on between you and Kieran?” Julie interrupted.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Julie walked across the cement porch, scuffing her boot over the edge. “He’s not just another wolf researcher, is he?”
Alex hugged herself. She’d thought Julie was her friend, as close a friend as she could hope to have. Even now she felt horribly tempted to confide in the other woman. And that was out of the question. But to admit a little of the truth was better than trying to hide all of it. “We knew each other as children,” she said.
“Ah.” Hunching her shoulders, Julie stared down at her feet. “I knew there was a link between you.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
Julie’s eyes were utterly bleak, as if their usual merriment was only camouflage for some hidden sorrow. “I can’t help what I see,” she said. “Grandma—”
Adrenaline pumped through Alex. “What does a medicine woman do?”
“It’s a very rare gift,” Julie said. “There aren’t many real ones left. They aren’t doctors in the usual sense.”
It wasn’t an answer at all. Be rational, Alex. Julie couldn’t know anything about Kieran’s true nature. Neither could her grandmother, whatever supposed abilities she might possess. He’ll be all right. He’s got to be…
“What are you trying to hide, Alex?”
“It’s… there’s nothing—”
“Do you consider me a friend?”
The blunt question left Alex floundering. “Of course I do.”
“I always sort of figured that friends help each other. Like you helped Deanna.”
“You have helped me, Julie.”
“Then if I asked you something important, would you trust me?”
Alex breathed in and out deliberately and met Julie’s gaze. “I would try,” she whispered.
Julie’s eyes warmed. “That’s all I ask. For now—”
In a burst of noise and motion Tracy and Liz plunged out the door, arguing furiously over a toy, and inside the house baby Tim began to wail. Julie’s mother poked her head out, wiping her hands on her apron. “Where is everybody? It’s suppertime.”
“Good. I’m starved.” Julie took Alex’s elbow and steered her back into the house, yelling over her shoulder. “Come on, you kids.”
Alex looked for Kieran as they stopped in the living room. He was standing, Mary on his arm. There was no sign of alarm in him, no worry. His eyes sought and held Alex’s without a trace of hesitation.
“All right,” Julie’s mother said. “Alex, you and Kieran sit in the dining room with Grandma, Julie, Brenda, and me. Mike, set up the TV trays for the kids.”
Chaos resolved into a surprisingly orderly routine as the family members found their accustomed places for the meal. Julie took her grandmother’s arm while Kieran joined Alex. She tried to convey her questions with her eyes, but Kieran only gazed back at her in unnerving silence.
What did you say to her, Kieran? she thought. What do they know? Her own conversation with Julie kept running through her mind. But animated voices flowed thick and fast around Alex and Kieran, English and Ojibwe words intermingled, and every face was friendly. It was almost like being in the middle of a gentle hurricane.
Beside her, Kieran set to his portion with a will, handling himself without a trace of awkwardness. Alex tasted her food and found she had an appetite. The wild rice, potatoes, venison, and frybread were delicious. Just for a moment she pretended this was her own family, that she belonged to them. It wasn’t so terrible a self-indulgence to let herself believe it was possible.
By the time the meal ended, the children had already insinuated themselves in among the adults. Kieran vanished before Alex’s offer to help with the dishes was cheerfully refused. She found him sitting on the sofa with the twins on his knees and Bobby halfway into his lap, giggling. His face was absorbed and open in its wonder, just as it had been when he and Alex played in the snow.
And when he kissed her.
Her heart began to hammer. He’d looked natural and right in the wilderness, but he looked just as right here, with children crawling all over him. Gentle, patient, attentive. Perfect father material.