Touching the Moon Read online

  Touching the Moon

  Lisa M. Airey

  Aakenbaaken & Kent New York

  Touching the Moon

  Copyright 201 3 by Lisa M. Airey, all rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations for use in articles and reviews.

  Aakenbaaken & Kent [email protected]

  www.aakenbaaken.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of the fictional characters to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-938436-05-5

  Dedication

  To my family with love

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks go to Samantha Reiter and Julie Shoemark for all their encouraging words. They read the book chapter by chapter as I wrote it and urged me on to the finish line. Thanks go to the editing team: Theresa Airey, Caroline Cassard, and Samantha Reiter and to veterinarian Jacqueline Zelepsky who assisted with the technical bits of animal surgery and animal husbandry. I am also sincerely grateful for the expert guidance and tutelage of Mike Orenduff who saw the potential in a rough draft and helped me to trim it down and dress it up! The path to publication was a long one… so nice not to have to go it alone.

  1

  Julie saw the wolf out of the corner of her eye. It trotted into the zoo enclosure with the pure unadulterated confidence of the consummate alpha male. His fur was a beautiful black-tipped gray and he moved on feet the size of horse’s hoofs. From the ankle down he could have been a Clydesdale with claws.

  The zoo community had affectionately named him Big Foot in tribute to the size of his paws, but the zookeepers were more mindful of his teeth. The animal had a mouthful of lethal incisors, and he loved curling his lips back to expose them.

  The rest of the pack loped playfully behind him, nipping at each other’s flanks or herding one another into the retaining wall that separated their living quarters from zoo patrons. They hopped over each other’s backs like dolphins in the surf. They yelped and grunted and barked with delight. They had been removed for medical examinations earlier in the morning and were happy to be back into the ‘man-made wild’.

  She saw the lead wolf catch her scent just as she heard a small child point her out.

  “Mommy, there’s a lady down there with the wolves.”

  The pack had not been scheduled to return to the enclosure until 3 p.m. She glanced down at her watch. It read 1:35 p.m. She swallowed hard. It had read 1:35 p.m. last time she had checked too.

  Safety protocol demanded an enclosure check before animals were returned to their habitat. There had been no safety check.

  There were anxious voices above her, but the cacophony paled to the exploding pulse she heard in her ears. She stood rooted to the spot, her eyes wide as the lead wolf pivoted his head in her direction, nostrils flared.

  Her eyes locked upon the hungry fire that burned within his dark pupils. There was silent communion between them. He was hunter. She was prey. Both of them acknowledged that she was dead meat.

  The animal cut in her direction without so much as breaking stride, the rest of the pack in tow. His lips curled back as he approached her, a low, menacing growl rising from deep within his chest like the first portentous rumblings of an active volcano. The pack fanned to the left and right, flanking him, encircling her.

  She didn’t want to die like this. She didn’t want to be ripped to shreds in front of an audience of pre-schoolers and soccer moms.

  Big Foot stretched his neck out toward her, sniffing loudly, sniffing deeply. The other wolves did the same. In an instant, little tremors wracked her petite frame. She was doing her very best to remain immobile, but she was shaking visibly now.

  The alpha wolf watched her intently, then did something totally unexpected. His lips rounded into a perfect ‘O’, and he howled softly and sadly into the circle.

  There was a moment of complete silence when he finished. Even the shrieking children had quieted. Above her, she heard truck doors slamming and the quick scuffing of heavy feet across concrete.

  “Tranquilizer darts,” someone commanded. She heard a rifle load. Two. Three.

  Big Foot howled again. Then, one by one, the other wolves joined the lament. She dropped her sampling tools and hugged herself as a series of small popping sounds were followed by surprised yelps.

  “Reload.”

  Three animals sank to their haunches. More popping sounds, then another three sank slowly to the ground, their voices silenced mid-howl. Big Foot bolted forward, stopped a few feet in front of her then ambled slowly in her direction.

  He turned toward his right hindquarters when the tranquilizer dart struck, but he whipped his head back around immediately, his eyes on Julie.

  She heard a pistol click. Real bullets now.

  “Don’t hurt him,” she shouted as a cold nose touched the back of her hand. The animal whined softly, his breath hot and moist upon her. He wrapped a pink tongue around her thumb then released it.

  Several zookeepers were in the enclosure now, racing toward her, their pistols armed and at the ready.

  Slowly, the animal collapsed at her feet. Slowly, Julie sank to her knees. Everything was going dark.

  She looked up. The sun was like a full moon in the night sky.

  She drew a shallow breath then plummeted to the earth like a meteor.

  2

  When you got right down to it, a busted lip wasn’t all that bad as a graduation present. Julie had been delivered far worse in the twenty years since her mother re-married. Her only regret was that her stepfather had ruined what should have been a happy day.

  She had a right to be happy, she thought with defiance. She had graduated from veterinary school with highest honors and survived an extraordinary confrontation with a pack of timber wolves as she wrapped up her internship at the zoo.

  She played with the cut on her lip and tried to will the swelling down. Her mother’s second husband had been a constant shadow in her formative years. And even now, damn him, he still found a way to loom large. Guess the cap and gown was too much for him to endure.

  She merged onto the interstate stuffing down her hurt and anger. A light rain started to fall and she set the windshield wipers to intermittent. It had been six years since he’d raised a hand to her… ever since she turned eighteen… ever since she had moved out of the house.

  She shook her head to stop what she referred to as the downward spiral, the negative thinking, the wrongful thinking. She had spent so many years blaming herself for her bruises and broken bones. But she was not to blame. She had believed that if she were perfect, everything would be all right at home. But perfect was never good enough, not when someone maliciously wanted to find fault. She gave herself a mental nudge.

  She didn’t deserve what happened today. Not the verbal abuse. Not the swift backhand slap. None of it. Not today. Not ever.

  She pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a Silver Diner. She took a stool at the counter and ordered up a short stack with some sausage patties and a side of hash browns. The coffee was poured without asking.

  The waitress glanced at her lip, then looked up at her sharply. “Cut myself shaving,” Julie said in response to the silent question. That earned her a smile.

  “You traveling far?” asked the waitress.

  “Oh yeah,” she said meaningfully.

  “Good,” said the waitress. “Good for you, honey.” She slipped the meal ticket through the pass-through to the kitchen and nodded at Julie before moving down the counter to refill a trucker’s coffee
cup.

  Julie watched her for a moment then opened her road map to the ugly phosphorescent glare of the overhead lights and squinted.

  Her route took her from her home state of Virginia through Maryland, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota and on into South Dakota. Although she could probably make the journey in three to four days, her car could not. She would need to stop her travels each day when the temperature gauge started to needle upwards.

  She ate her meal with purpose, eating both the orange slice and parsley sprig garnish. When the waitress brought the check, she handed Julie a to-go bag.

  “What’s this?” Julie asked in total confusion.

  “A little roadside assistance,” said the waitress warmly. “You go, girl. You hear me? You go, and don’t you dare go back.”

  By the time she crossed the border into South Dakota, her past felt like a dust speck on the rearview.

  She pulled over at the South Dakota state welcome center and scanned the horizon. Farmland, low hills. The air was sweet.

  There was a map of the state mounted within a glass case and she oriented herself by the compass rose. State sport: Rodeo. State bird: Ring-necked Pheasant. State tree: White Spruce. This was home to Wild Bill Hickok, Calamity Jane, Sitting Bull, and Mount Rushmore. Dances with Wolves was filmed here.

  She looked at the southwest quadrant of the state and the landscape photos that gave drama to her final destination. She was headed for a more rugged part of the territory, an area with deep canyons, rolling plains, pine-covered mountains and flat-topped hills called buttes.

  Her heartbeat quickened.

  Her little town was too small to be given a dot on the map, but she found Rapid City easily enough. She was headed about an hour’s drive south of that city to the Black Hills. Although she’d never set foot in Fallston, she already considered it home.

  3

  Julie leaned against the hood of her red Corolla and polished off a bottle of water. Her car engine ticked and popped in the heat of a summer sun. She tossed her empty water bottle onto the floor of the backseat and resumed watching a herd of buffalo grazing lazily in the distance.

  The used car salesman who sold her the car had promised it would easily turn 200,000 miles. She was testing his veracity every day.

  She glanced helplessly at the yellow orb above her. It was darn near impossible for an engine to cool down with such hellish ambient heat. Her head pivoted as a squad car pulled up behind her, and she watched as two tall gentlemen in uniform stepped from the car and approached her.

  “Howdy,” one officer said by way of greeting. “Car trouble?”

  “It was running a bit hot, so I’m letting it cool.”

  “Where are ya headed?” asked the other, glancing down at her out-of-state plates.

  “Fallston,” she replied. “I’ve accepted a position there as veterinarian.”

  “Really, now,” the first officer said. “In Fallston? You have family there?”

  “No,” she replied, surprised by his surprise, “Why do you ask?”

  “Uh, it’s just that most young folk leave town unless they’ve got reason to stay. I can’t imagine we’re on anybody’s list of must-see destinations.”

  “Oh,” she said, her face falling. She’d driven halfway across the country to work in a place that people were ashamed to call home? “Is it that bad?”

  “No! No!” the first officer said quickly, trying to erase the frown lines that he had put on her forehead.

  “It’s a great town, a great little town… not a whole lot to do.”

  “Well, I’ve got a new job to keep me busy, officer. I don’t think I’ll be lacking for things to do.”

  “Of course not. I wasn’t inplying any such thing,” he said back-pedaling. “I’m Dan Keating, by the way. This is my trainee, Elliott Rand.”

  “Julie Hastings”, she replied, shaking his hand. She shook Elliott’s too. “Thanks for stopping.”

  “It’s our job,” he said and smiled.

  She smiled back. She’d never met anyone who looked so wholesome or felt so genuine. “How far out am I?”

  “Oh, just another couple of miles. We’ll follow you in to make sure you make it without a hitch.”

  “Thanks. But, I should be okay.”

  “Just in case,” he countered.

  “Appreciate it,” she said, capitulating.

  She got in her car and turned the key. The temperature gauge read almost normal. She gave a sigh of relief as she slipped into gear and merged onto the roadway. She was unsure of how to interpret the welcome. Either they are mighty suspicious or mighty helpful in Fallston. She checked her rearview and found Officer Keating a few car lengths behind. She wondered if he was running her tags.

  She had hoped to make town before the veterinary office closed. She looked at the clock on the dashboard, then glanced quickly back to the road. Right on Seminary, left on Elm, left on Lewis.

  Officer Keating had made her apprehensive without cause. The town was a picture postcard. Trees lined the streets. Kids screamed and shouted as they raced their bikes. Dogs barked. Cats darted across the roadway.

  She pulled into the veterinary parking lot with butterflies in her stomach. Officer Keating cruised on past her with a wave.

  She waved back then climbed out of the car, trying to erase almost two thousand miles of travel from her weary frame. She rubbed her hands together roughly to warm them. Her anxiety had turned them ice cold despite the heat.

  As she entered the office, an old-fashioned door-bell jingled above her. Then, she stood frozen for a brief moment as her lungs went into vapor-lock. The office reeked. It smelled of cleaner and bleach and an underlying sickness that no amount of chemical treatment could erase.

  “We’re closing,” said an older woman, rounding the counter with a vivaciousness that belied her age.

  “I just wanted to introduce myself,” Julie said quickly. “I’m your new vet.”

  “Ah, Miss Hastings. I’m Rose,” she said warmly, positively sprinting toward her in welcome.

  Julie shook her hand and assessed her new colleague. She was pencil thin, gray-haired and spry with an energy level that could fuel all of Manhattan.

  “I’m afraid everyone has gone for the day. On Fridays, we try and close a little early.” She patted an errant curl back into place.

  “No worries. I just wanted to connect, if I could, before my first ‘official’ day in residence.” Julie’s eyes darted from the sacks of seed corn in the corner to huge bags of dog and cat food arranged in orderly piles along an ancient wall of shelving.

  “I understand,” said Rose. “We’ll all be here Monday morning at 7 a.m. sharp. Unfortunately, I’ve got choir practice and am in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Fair enough,” Julie said as she was gently ushered to the door.

  “I do look forward to hearing all about your pretty self on Monday though. And I do apologize for the abruptness of my welcome. I’m a woman with a mission today. You might say… I’m on a mission from God.”

  “Gotcha,” said Julie, wondering if Rose had ever seen The Blues Brothers. Julie climbed back into her car and tried to blow the overpowering stench of antiseptic and bleach out of her nose. The chemical miasma seemed to cling to her even outside the building. “Woof,” she said softly to herself. Time to order baking soda by the tractor-trailer load.

  She grabbed the directions to her rental property. She had found a small cottage. As she pulled into the driveway, she was relieved to see that the photos had been accurate. Self-consciously, she grabbed the manila envelope that held the keys and approached the entrance.

  The kitchen was doll-house white-on-white and quite pristine. A small ice cream parlor table and four chairs were set off in a sun-soaked corner. The living room was papered in an old English rose pattern. The furniture was stuffed and the end tables boasted big lamps with beaded fringe-work.

  She climbed the stairs and peeked into the bedroom. A quee
n-sized bed filled one-half of the room, its French country headboard and footboard in faux green patina. The room was all earth tones and soft greens. It felt like a spring forest.

  The bathroom was butter yellow with daisies stenciled along the walls near the ceiling. A small window looked out over the back yard. She cracked it open then went back into each room and opened all the windows.

  She unloaded two suitcases from the car then carted in her laptop and books. Not much to her worldly goods, but at least they were hers.

  A little note card was pegged to the refrigerator with a ladybug magnet. “Make yourself at home,” it read. The realtor had signed her name. Julie smiled. That won’t be too hard to do, she mused. I’m living in a fairy tale.

  She dressed professionally for her first day at work. Black skirt. White blouse. Lab coat. She bound her chestnut curls into a small bun. Although she arrived well before seven, the other veterinarian was in and waiting for her.

  He was a senior gentleman, lean and lanky with dark hair that was silver-shot. His face looked both patient and kind.

  “Cole Peters. I figured you’d be here early. Got a pot of coffee brewing for you in welcome.”

  Julie shook his hand. Although warm, his skin was papery and fragile. He was older than he looked.

  “Very nice of you to truck all the way out to Fallston to take this position, Ms. Hastings,” he said, pouring coffee into two mugs. “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Both please. Thank you.”

  He doctored up her brew then passed it to her. “So tell me about yourself.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Oh, just about everything and anything you’d care to share. Why veterinary school? Why Fallston? How do you like the mother-in-law house? You’ve got the old Sweeting place, right? Do you have family in South Dakota? Are you afraid of lions, and tigers and bears?”