Heat Race - Tanya Chris Page 0,51

things out for himself, but others had real expertise, which he also appreciated because there were skills he didn’t have, like plumbing and electricity.

All in all, he couldn’t be happier. He was doing meaningful work, out in the fresh air with a bunch of nice people, being sort-of in charge but having plenty of advice on hand when he needed it. And his pack appreciated his work. They especially appreciated the new solar panels, which produced enough electricity that their cabin now had a lamp, a hot plate, and a coffee maker. With everything Saul had going for him, he didn’t miss his father. Not even a little.

“And your mother’s gone?” Alice asked one day as they ate lunch together. Saul had taken to going to the farmhouse for lunch most days. It gave him a break from the heat and dust of construction and was a chance to see Jasper.

He nodded in response to her question, avoiding giving a more direct answer by taking a bite of the ham sandwich she’d made for him. The ham came from the farm’s own pigs and was delicious, but his evasion didn’t work because Alice pressed on.

“When did you lose her?”

“She left when I was eight.”

“Left? She’s still alive then?”

He didn’t know, not having heard a word from her since the day he came home from school and found the house empty and a hastily scrawled note on the kitchen table. He hadn’t believed the note, had thought she’d said it wrong, that she only meant she’d be back after dinner. Or maybe tomorrow. Not never. But it turned out the note was right. She never came back. Never called or wrote. Just disappeared as if she didn’t miss anything she’d left behind.

Life with Saul’s father wasn’t pleasant. He understood that now. When his mother had been around, he’d been shielded enough to escape the full brunt of it, but once she was gone, all his father’s rage turned on him. Which only made him angrier at his mother. She’d known what she was leaving him to. How could she have done it?

“I could never,” Alice said after Saul explained. “Even if I got fed up to high heaven with Lee, I wouldn’t abandon Jasper. I don’t understand how a mother could do such a thing.”

Saul hadn’t been as important to his mother as Jasper was to Alice, that was the only thing he could figure. And it was what his father always said—that his mother didn’t give a shit about him— though it’d taken him a long time to believe it. His mother had loved him. A lot. She’d taught him to be kind and affectionate, counteracting his father’s harsh ways to instill something softer in him. So how could she…?

But she had.

“Never you mind, dear.” Alice reached across the table to pat his hand. “You have me now. I’ll be your mother.”

Alice reminded him of his mother. They were both maternal and homey with bright smiles that were just a tad too toothy. Jasper got his teeth from his mother. Hers weren’t as pointy, but they were prominent and overly long, just like Saul’s own mother’s had been. He ran his tongue across his canines, feeling the points that marked him as an alpha. Since Elias had started sparring with Jasper, his teeth had gotten pointier. Maybe everyone had more wolf in them than they realized.

“Would you like to call me Mom?” Alice asked.

Saul shook his head. As much as his mother had disappointed him, the mother in his memory—the one he’d had when he was eight—was irreplaceable. He couldn’t bring himself to let her go, even though she’d let him go.

“I understand.” She patted his hand again. “Maybe we can find her. She had her reasons for leaving, and if we could hear them directly from her, maybe we’d understand.”

Saul nodded. He’d never given up hope that she’d had a good reason for leaving—good enough that he could forgive her for doing it. He just couldn’t think what it might be.

“Do you have any idea at all about where she went?”

“I never had anything from her except a note. It didn’t say anything about, well, anything from what I can remember.” He hadn’t read it in ten years, but he still had it, taped to the underside of a drawer in his bedroom—both cherished and hidden. He remembered the note being terse and unaffectionate, but he’d been young then. And hurt. Too young and hurt to have analyzed her