Riley had asked Peggy to let her do the worrying, and now she had plenty of it to do, especially after driving back to retrieve her phone at the first hint of daylight and finding it gone. She was sure Jim had gotten ahold of it. If he did, he’d have seen that a call had been made to his wife’s number. Maybe he’d come after her. Or maybe he’d take it to the police. That scared her more than anything. Paul Foster wouldn’t know what to make of Riley’s phone being found on the property.
She just wanted to sleep. The recent lack of it, combined with these frequent and uncontrolled changes, had her exhausted, running around on nervous energy. After returning from the farm, she’d flopped into bed again, hoping to grab another hour of rest before it was time to get dressed and head to campus to give her final exam. At least she wouldn’t have to lecture today. She could sit quietly in the room and ruminate over things.
Riley had just drifted off when the smell of coffee wafted into the bedroom. Her machine was programmed for eight o’clock, and the stimulating aroma was enough to get her up. It was the last day of class, and she’d make it a casual one. She showered, slipped into jeans and a short-sleeved white shirt, and was pouring coffee when the phone rang. Her heart pounded as she went to the landline on her night table, half expecting to see POLICE on the caller ID, but it was Tom. A tremendous relief.
“Good morning.”
“And it’s a good one,” he said, sounding a little too happy. “Guess what?”
“I heard. My results are in.”
“Barb told you already?”
“I had dinner with them last night. She said you’d stop by later in the week when you drop David’s kittens off at the church. Nice maneuver, buddy.”
“I know.” Tom laughed. “Is that a perfect excuse to visit or what? He’ll have to invite me in, and I’ll get to learn more about him…how he lives…how he decorates.”
“Decorates?”
“Sure. You can tell a lot about a person from their personal space. I want to get a better sense of who he is…what he likes.”
“Let’s just hope he likes kittens as much as you like him.” Riley cradled the phone in her shoulder as she poured milk into her coffee.
“I’ve been thinking about adopting one, too. The solid-gray one. If I do, maybe the reverend and I can schedule playdates.”
“Playdates for the cats or for you and David?”
“Just saying his name gives me the chills. David…” he said dreamily.
“Oh, jeez, Tom.”
“What can I say.” He laughed again. “I used to live for Friday nights at the bar. Now I live for Sunday service. He’s all I think about.”
“You mean in between your hookups?”
“I haven’t had any since seeing his picture on that website.”
“The picture you think was of him.”
“I know it was him. And believe you me, if I were with him there would be no more hookups. I’d marry that man.”
“You might want to hold that thought until you see how he decorates. The wrong decor, an incompatible taste in furniture or color schemes might be a deal breaker for you.” Riley spooned some sugar into her cup and stirred her coffee. “Anyway, about my results…”
“Well, you know this was a very tricky and covert operation. Nature seriously tinkered with your genes, so I had to tinker with my tests. I used a few, like autosomal and mitochondrial. Obviously, I couldn’t do a Y-line because that’s between father and son, and I can’t connect you to descendants from any of your ancestral lines because I couldn’t save you in a database. But I put did put together two pages of information—privately, on my home computer. I was thinking of picking up the kittens from Miriam Friday evening after work. Will you be in the office?”
“Not after four o’clock. I have two clients away on vacation.”
“Then I’ll stop by the house after David’s.”
“Come for dinner. I’ll invite Peg and Barb and grill some steaks.” Despite her usual avoidance of red meat, she’d been fighting an intense craving for it. “But tell me now what I have in me. I need a distraction.”
“Now? You sure?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, but only because I’m having a hard time keeping it to myself.”
“Shoot.”
“Well, extracting DNA from your cells was easy enough, but running genetic markers through algorithms from totally different databases was a big challenge. I owe my genetic-genealogist friend big-time for letting me use a canine database that included wolves and coyotes. I told him my sister had a dog mixed with coyote, and since it’s sort of illegal to keep a coydog as a pet, she was super paranoid about having its DNA stored in a database. I didn’t have to worry about your human DNA showing up because there’s no reference for it in a dog-breed database. I’m at work now so I don’t have my laptop, but on your canine side you are coywolf. Mostly coyote. My best estimate is around twenty-three-percent Canis latrans. Less than seven-percent Canis lupus.”
“Wow…” It shouldn’t have come as such a shock, since she’d been turning into said animal for over twenty years now, but having it confirmed, knowing it was spelled out right there in her DNA made her a little light-headed. Hearing it was harder than she’d imagined.
“Riley? You still there?”
“I’m here.” She walked to the dining-room table, pulled out a chair, and sat facing the doors, staring out past the deck at the treetops swaying gently in the morning breeze.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You’re not surprised, are you? I mean, considering the eastern coyote is mixed with gray wolf, I suspected both would show up. Didn’t you?”
“I guess.”
“Also, I was doing some more reading on the coywolf. You know from your own research that the eastern coyote runs about twelve-percent wolf, so ratio-wise, that gives you a bit more wolf blood—or should I say a bite more—than your coyote friends.”
“Huh! So, I really am part eastern coyote…coywolf.”
“Confirmed. And now for the shocking part…you might want to sit down for this.”
“I am sitting. Just spill it, Tom.” Riley held her breath.
“Well, you’re forty percent Scandinavian. Looking at your mitochondrial genome, it appears your biological mother was Northern European.”
“Interesting…”
“Which is not to say she wasn’t American born, but in terms of her lineage…”
“I get it. And the rest?”
“Well, so here’s the shocker. At least it was for me. You’re about twenty-five percent Native American.”
“What? Indian?”
“Yes, Native American Indian.”
“That can’t be right, Tom. My features…my coloring…I don’t look Native American at all. How can this be possible?”
“Well, it’s there. But don’t let Donald Trump know. He might do what he did to Elizabeth Warren and change your nickname from Wiley Riley to Pocahontas.”
Riley sucked her teeth. “Are you joking with me?” Sometimes it was hard to tell when Tom was teasing.
Riley heard a voice in the background. “Hold on,” Tom said. She listened to him talking to someone, and then he came back on. “Listen, I have to go. I have a meeting in five minutes. But no, I swear, I’m not joking, Poca—”
“Don’t tease me, Tom. I mean it. And you better be telling me the truth.”
“It is. I swear. But you’ll always be Wiley Riley to me.”
“That’s Wile E. Riley. As in Wile E. Coyote…and Riley E. Dawson.” Interesting that her middle initial really was E for Edith. She still hadn’t gotten over the idea of Fiona naming Edy after her. It was a special thing. What would Edy do if she only knew? “I’ll let you go,” she said. “And I’ll see you Friday night.”
Riley hung up and scratched her head. “American Indian,” she said out loud. “Where the heck did that come from?” The news of her identity left her in a mental fog. She absently sipped her coffee, gazing out at the sky and trees, until the white flash of a car passing by caught her attention. It slowed and stopped like it might turn in her driveway. And then it did.
Riley went to the front door, which people always mistook for the back door considering the front of the house faced away from the road. She went out and looked down. The car started to circle up, then hesitated at the fork in the driveway. Riley waved her arms and hollered.
She couldn’t see who was in the car through the glare of the sun on the windshield, only an arm flailing at her in greeting. The passenger door opened then, and she watched Edy get out with a large manila envelope.
“Riley!” Edy beamed as she came running up the hill. It was good to know they were okay after last night’s fiasco. Okay for now, at least.
“What a nice surprise,” Riley said. “How’d you find me?”
“You’re in the phone book.”
“Ah-ha…” It must have been a really old phone book, because her current number was unlisted. “You’re a good detective,” she said, guiding her out of the way as Fiona drove up and rolled the window down.
Riley smiled as Fiona took off her sunglasses, set them on the dashboard, and combed her hair back with her fingers. “I’m really sorry for showing up unannounced like this, but Edy was adamant about dropping off something she made for you in appreciation for coming to our rescue.”
Riley gave a cringe of apology. “Sorry about the window,” she said, leaning in and resting her arms on the car door.
“Don’t be. You saved Gomez’s life.”
“That turtle happens to be a very old and special friend of mine…and I’m exceedingly loyal to my friends. Are the turtles safe alone with him?”
“He won’t do anything now. He knows someone saw what he did. Thank you for calling the police. It was the chief who came. Foster?”
Riley nodded. “Paul Foster.”
“I thought Jim would explode after he left, but he didn’t. He knew that whoever broke the glass and made the call had witnessed what went on. He was very quiet this morning, moping around, acting depressed…which he does from time to time anyway.”
Riley didn’t like hearing that. Narcissism, depression, sociopathy—the perfect fertilizer for growing a garden-variety family annihilator.
“I guess you got my text,” Fiona said. “I told you not to respond, but I wanted to make sure you knew we were all okay.”
Riley didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to lie, but telling her she’d left her phone behind and that Jim might have found it would have sent Fiona into another panic. As they chatted, though, she felt Edy staring and turned to see an odd look of amazement in her blue eyes. Her mouth was hanging slightly open, the tip of her tongue relaxing on her bottom lip as if she was transfixed, strangely mesmerized, lost in a daydream. The intensity of her gaze made Riley feel exposed.
“Your eyes are the color of a coyote’s,” Edy said flatly.
“Why, thank you!” Riley said in a comical voice. “Your mother always thought so.” Then she made a theatrical display of raising her head and howling to shake Edy from her sudden trance-like mood.
Fiona shook her head, unable to smother a smile. “I think Edy means that as a compliment. I know I always did. When you see what she made for you, you’ll understand.” Fiona gave Edy a stern look, gesturing with her chin at the large envelope in her grip. “Why don’t you give that to Riley so we can get out of here and let her go to work.”
“Actually, I’m not headed to the office. I’m teaching a summer course at Smith. Today’s the last class.” Riley looked at her watch. “I have to get out of here in twenty minutes, but have a quick cup of coffee with me.”
“I really shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, you should, Mom.”
Riley grinned and backed away from the car. “Come on in.”
By the time Fiona got out, Edy was peering into the small pond off the driveway. It was only about a six-foot oval, water from the pump trickling down the high rocks on one side.
“Did you make this?”
“Nope. It was here when I bought the house. It used to be a koi pond. The owners took the fish with them, and I just let it go wild. It’s become a breeding ground for the frogs and salamanders.”
“Like a vernal pool,” Edy said.
“What’s that?”
“They’re like these big holes in the ground that fill up with rain and melted snow in the spring. Without them, amphibians wouldn’t exist because they’d have to lay their eggs in ponds and lakes, and the fish would eat them all. So, they lay their eggs in vernal pools. By the time they dry up in summer, the frogs and salamanders have their lungs and legs and don’t need them anymore.” She made a face and shrugged, as though this information should be common knowledge.
A splash in the water caused the lily pads to shift. “Look, Mom. There’s a frog!” Edy pointed to the protruding gold eyes of the green amphibian floating in the water weeds. And then something beyond the pond caught her eye, and she raced around to gently pick up an orange salamander crossing a patch of moss en route to the woods. “It’s a red eft!” She came back with it in her palm, still holding the big envelope under her arm.
“Oh, wow, it’s beautiful,” Fiona said with the same childlike wonder as her daughter. She reached to take hold of the envelope so Edy could examine the salamander with both hands, but Edy angled her body away from her mother and instead let it crawl onto her mother’s hand. Fiona lifted it to eye level, ever so softly petting the brilliantly colored salamander, whose orange skin was adorned with red spots circled in black. “Riley and I used to find loads of these in the woods after it rained,” she said to Edy. “We had to be careful not to step on them.”
“Mmm…I remember,” Riley said, thinking back to their wonderful woodland rendezvous in summers gone by.
Edy looked around. “This would be a great place for a turtle pen. I could help you put a fence around the pond, and we could wrap it around some of the trees over here…and that boulder over there. That would give them enough land to explore and—”
“Edy,” Fiona said with a roll of her eyes.
Riley winked at Fiona and said to Edy, “That’s something I will seriously consider. If I ever decide to get some turtles, I’ll let you design the enclosure, seeing that you know so much about reptiles and amphibians.”
“I have to know,” Edy said. “I’m going to be a herpetologist when I grow up.”
“A herpetologist, huh? That’s what your mom wanted to be.”
“Yeah, but she’s better at drawing them. I’m not an artist like her, but I’m a much better scientist.”
Fiona laughed. “This is true. But you’re a pretty good artist, too, so hurry up and put this little guy back so Riley can see what you drew for her.” Fiona returned the salamander and made another motion to take the envelope, but Edy shrugged her off. She took the red eft in one hand and carried it back to its patch of moss.
Riley winked at Fiona, then gestured toward the door. “Come on inside.”
“I love your property…and this saltbox house. It has a central chimney?”
Riley didn’t have to answer the question. Past the low ceilings of the mudroom and kitchen, Fiona looked up at the massive brick-and-stucco chimney that rose through the middle of the house.
“What I wouldn’t give for a place like this…it’s like the house itself was built around the fireplace. Do you ever burn apple wood? I couldn’t help but notice apple trees when I drove in. And you have peach trees.”
“They’re almost ripe. You should come back in a few days and fill a bag before the bears come for them.”
“I’d love to. I could bake some peach pies.”
“I will not refuse a peach pie.” Riley sighed to herself, imagining how nice a life with Fiona would have been—pies in the oven, vegetables in the garden, turtles in the pond, Fiona in her bed. Edy stood there holding her envelope, curious eyes darting all over.
“How about something to drink?” Riley asked.
“No, thank you,” she said.
“Okay, then two coffees coming right up. Have a look around,” she said to both of them.
Fiona folded her arms, slowly wandering past the dining room into the living room, while Edy wasted no time circling the first floor until she came around through the hallway and found herself back in the kitchen. “This house is big. What’s in all those rooms?” she asked.
“Which rooms?”
Edy went back into the living room and pointed up to the railings of the second-story balcony. “Those four doors up there. Is that where you sleep?”
Kids asked such funny questions. “No. My bedroom is down here at the end of the hallway. I don’t really use the rooms up there.”
“What’s in them?”
“One is a bathroom, and one’s sort of a junk room, being that I don’t have an attic for storage. Another one’s empty, and the other is a guest room.” Not that she ever had company. The only guest that ever occupied the bed in there was Tom on winter nights when they were drinking, and he didn’t want to make the twenty-mile trip home. Peggy and Barbara’s spare room had been turned into a den, and staying with Riley was more comfortable than the futon they had to offer him.
“Is it okay if I go up there to look?” Edy said.
Fiona opened her mouth, probably to say no, but Riley didn’t see the harm in letting her investigate. As long as she didn’t ask to go downstairs. The coyotes were down there, sleeping off a busy night, but Riley heard them moving around. No doubt they were spooked by the unfamiliar voices and prepared to make a fast exit through the doggy doors.
Edy cocked her head. “What’s that banging sound?”
“Oh, just my water pump in the basement. You can go explore upstairs if you want to.”
“Can I?”
“Sure.” That would at least give her a few minutes alone with Fiona. Edy hurried up the stairs that ran along the chimney while Riley fixed coffee for herself and Fiona.
“When does Jim leave again?”
“Next week.” Arms still folded, Fiona walked to the double doors in the dining room and looked out onto the deck.
Riley came up behind her holding two cups. “It would be nice to spend a few hours alone with you sometime.”
Fiona turned around. “I was thinking that, too. Edy might have a sleepover Saturday night at her friend Olivia’s house, someone from her new school she met last month in her Outdoor Explorers camp. Olivia has two dads, though.”
“Is that a problem for Edy, being she was raised in an evangelical church?”
“Edy doesn’t mind at all, but I can’t tell Jim. He’d have a fit.”
“Let me know if it works out. Maybe you and I could have dinner. It would be nice to just sit and talk.” Riley held out a cup to her. “Milk, no sugar, right?”
“Thanks,” she said, taking the proffered cup from Riley’s hand. “You remember how I take my coffee?”
“I remember everything about you.”
Fiona took a sip, smiled softly, and gazed at her. “You remember things…and I feel things. Are you all right? I know I’m causing you a lot of stress, but you seem distracted. I probably shouldn’t have let Edy talk me into barging in on you.”
“No, no. I’m glad you did. I obviously am stressed out by your situation, but…you’re right about being distracted. Right before you pulled up, I got a call from Tom, Peggy’s brother. He works as a genetic genealogist and has been pushing me to let him test my DNA.”
“That’s great.” Fiona’s face lit up. “I’ve often wondered whether you ever tried to find your birth parents.”
“I don’t really have an interest in finding them. I just wanted to know what I am.”
“And?”
Riley opened her mouth to speak, but Edy called out above them. They looked up to see her peering down at them from the balcony. “This house is so cool. You should see the rooms up here, Mom. They’re very spacious. Two have skylights. They’d make great bedrooms,” she said, as though she was looking to buy the place.
“Not today, honey. Riley needs to get out of here, and we need to go shopping.” She turned back to Riley. “Jim will want to know what took me so long. I can blame only so much time on long lines.” She returned her attention to Riley. “So, tell me what you found out.”
“Well, it appears that my mother was Scandinavian.”
“Hmm. Very interesting. I can see that, with your light hair and eyes…and your body type. And? What else?”
“Well, I’m not sure if this could possibly be accurate, but it appears I have a considerable amount of American Indian.”
“Really! That’s surprising.”
“You’re telling me!”
Fiona studied her face. “That I don’t see in you. But it might explain why you tan so easily.” With a faint smile, she stroked Riley’s cheek with the back of her fingers. “I don’t think that comes from the Scandinavian side. So that would make your father Native American and…?”
Riley nervously waved off the question. “Just small, undetermined percentages of other stuff. Anyway, it’s left me feeling kind of shocked, you know? It was big news.”
“Big? It’s huge. Jeez, Riley, for thirty-eight years you didn’t know anything about yourself. I can understand you being shocked.”
“Never would I have guessed that my biological father could be part American Indian.”
“Your father’s an Indian?” Edy asked as she came down the stairs. Whether she’d been eavesdropping or just happened to overhear their conversation, Riley couldn’t tell. Edy was wiser than she let on. She looked at Riley with a thin, almost quizzical smile. “You don’t look it.”
Riley made a funny face at her. “Well, you don’t look anything like your father, either. So there,” she said, and stuck out her tongue.
Edy’s smile widened and she giggled. “Do you go to the powwows?”
Every September the powwow came to the Berkshires. Barbara loved to go, but only twice had Riley joined them. Going to one now would be an entirely new and personal experience.
“Forget the powwows.” Fiona narrowed her eyes. “Let Riley see the picture you came here to give her, so we can get out of here.” She looked at Edy’s empty hands. “Where’d you put it?”
Edy pointed to the coffee table in the living room. “It’s over there. She can open it when we leave. That way, if she doesn’t like it, she doesn’t have to pretend she does.”
“She’s been acting strange all morning,” Fiona said in a low voice, then looked at Edy narrowly. “You couldn’t wait for Riley to see what you drew, and now what? You’re embarrassed?”
“Yes.” Edy had lost her usual temerity and was now acting shy. She nervously stretched her arms out behind her back and shrugged one shoulder. “I’d feel better if Riley waited until we’re gone.”
“Okay. I’ll wait.” Riley placated her. “But just so you know, I’m going to love whatever you drew. No one’s ever drawn a turtle for me.”
“It’s not a turtle,” Fiona said. “It’s a portrait of her—”
“Don’t tell her, Mom! It’s a surprise.”
Riley couldn’t help but laugh at Edy’s antics. Precocious kids were amusing. Oddly intimidating, too.
Edy went to the door then, and Riley followed them out to the car. “Thank you again for yesterday,” Fiona said, her eyes taking in every feature of Riley’s face as though they were snapping a mental photograph, an image her mind could return to later on.
Riley wanted to kiss her, and it didn’t help that she sensed Fiona fighting the same impulse. Having Edy around was good. It kept Riley in check.
She watched them drive away, then walked back inside and straight over to the flat manila envelope on the coffee table. The unexpected weight of it surprised her. Something else was in there, something small and flat and much heavier than a picture weighed. She bent the clasps that held the flap closed, first pulling out the stiffly textured sketch paper. The image of a coyote’s face peering through white birch trees stunned her. Not only was the drawing better than she expected from an eleven-year-old, but it was a picture of Edy’s coyote friend…which meant she was looking at a portrait of herself. A coyote with almost human eyes. She put it aside, then reached back into the envelope and pulled out her cell phone.
Whether she and Edy now shared her dark secret, Riley didn’t know, but she was beyond relieved to get it back. Of course, finding the phone didn’t mean that Edy had necessarily made a connection between Riley and her coyote-friend. But if not, why hide the phone from her mother? Was this Edy’s way of letting her know she knew her secret and could be trusted to keep it? Not that blabbering it to everyone would have mattered. Who would believe a little girl claiming to keep company with a werewolf? What bothered her though, was that a kid, barely eleven, suddenly had the edge over a thirty-eight-year-old mental-health professional—a grown-ass werewolf to boot. Edy was a clever one. Riley had to give her that.