The Alpha's Daughter (5 page)

…
And woke up with Papa Bear's big paw resting on her hip.
Whoa, shit! She inched her way out from under it and slid to the
floor where she crawled to the kitchen, not caring what debris she
met along the way.

Jazz took her first breath when she reached
the kitchen. She took her second breath when she found the coffee
pot on the back of a gas stove, the coffee on the counter. Thank
God for small blessings.

Looking around the cramped kitchen, she came
to a decision. Okay, he was right and she was wrong to poke fun at
his home, but nevertheless, her observations were accurate. If she
was going to be here for the next few days, she couldn't live in
this. She'd clean it up as payment for her room and board. She
found a pot, filled it with water and set it to boil. Then starting
in one corner, she began to clean up the bear cave's kitchen.

She was sipping her second cup of coffee and
searching for a broom when the bear entered the kitchen. He was
wearing a pair of sweats that hung low on his hips and he looked
more like a grizzly than ever. He scratched his wild hair and then
his tight belly and looked around, bewildered.

"Your papers are there on the table, safe and
sound. I didn't throw any away. That over there," she nodded toward
the pile of grocery sacks in the corner, "Is garbage. Sit. I've got
coffee ready."

He sat sideways in the chair, closed his
eyes, opened them again and stared at her.

"You look different," he said, accepting the
coffee and taking a sip, "And you can make coffee," he sighed as he
set the cup down.

"No make-up," she said, "No leather."

"Hmm." He twisted, uncomfortable at something
poking him in the back and reached under his arm. He pulled out her
bra, a little red satin number that looked good under her tank, and
stared at it as if he'd never seen one before.

Jazz grabbed the still damp bra from him and
snatched up her panties and top. "I rinsed them out last night.
They're still damp."

He stared at her and then at the tee shirt
she was wearing, muttered something under his breath and turned to
face the table, shaking his shaggy head. Elbow resting on the
table, he put his hand up to his face to block the view
further.

"You need to get dressed. Don't need someone
popping in and seeing you like that."

Jazz raised the ball of clothing in her hand.
"Um, this is it, remember? No money, no clothes, no bike? Anyway,
there's not much to them," she said, at which he snorted. "It
shouldn't take them too much longer to dry. No one's going to be
popping in at seven in the morning."

The hand blocking his eyes began to massage
his temple. "You'd be sur…"

"Yoo-hoo," someone called as they banged on
the front door.

"…prised," he finished. He pointed his finger
at Jazz. "Stay right here. Don't move."

Never having been one to do as she was told,
Jazz waited until the door closed behind him, then ran to it and
opened it a crack. She watched as he grabbed a shirt from the same
pile she'd gotten hers from and shrugged into it on the way to the
door.

"Yoo-hoo. Do-o-oc," two voices sang in unison
as the banging continued.

He opened the door and was almost knocked
over as two blue haired bowling balls rolled in, passing him their
furled umbrellas as they did. Dressed identically in black, they
pushed past, carrying identical plastic Easter baskets in their
chubby little hands.

"We heard you had company," said the
first.

"We thought you might like breakfast," said
the second.

"Eggs and biscuits," they said in unison.

"Edna, Edith," Doc said, "Little early isn't
it?"

"Well I see you're both up," said the first,
peering into the dining/bedroom.

The second was inspecting the couch. "Didn't
you offer the poor thing a pillow?"

The two tittered at that, covering their
mouths delicately.

Doc threw back his head and looked up at the
ceiling. His lips moved, but Jazz couldn't hear his words. Then he
looked down at the two little visitors and, unsmiling, said, "Thank
you, ladies. It's appreciated. Here, let me take those for you." He
held out his hands to collect the baskets, but the twins weren't
falling for that.

Their heads were moving a mile a minute as
they searched high and low for the mystery guest. The rooms weren't
that big. Where did they think she was hiding? Jazz snickered and
waited for them to look under the bed. Their heads came up. They
looked at each other, nodded and made a bee line for the kitchen
door. Jazz jumped back as the door swung open.

"Oooo, Edith, Millie was right. It's a
girl."

"There's going to be a passel of disappointed
women in this town," Edna informed Jazz. "We was expecting a
man."

"Um," Jazz looked from one to the other. "So
I heard. Sorry?"

"No need to be sorry, dear. It's not your
fault you were born a girl," Edith said consolingly.

While they took in her bare feet and legs and
the huge gray tee shirt, Jazz took in the twins. They were
identical with little bow mouths and rosy cheeks and the brightest
blue eyes she'd ever seen. Their skin was soft and silky, like fine
grained paper and their plumpness smoothed out any wrinkles that
might have given a hint to their age. They were old, but wolvers
tended to age more gracefully than their human counterparts and it
was sometimes difficult to judge just how old a wolver was.

Each twin had a little jeweled pin on the
shoulder of her black dress, one pink, one green, which matched the
rubber boots on their feet, something she hadn't noticed while
spying through the door. The boots made Jazz smile.

"I'm liking those boots," she said.

"Well, thank you very much, dear. We got them
from the catalog just last week. A lady has to keep step with the
fashions," Edna told her while Edith beamed at the compliment. "We
like your hair." She patted her own. "Blue brightens the
complexion. Don't you think?"

Jazz's spikey cut was streaked with 'Shake It
Up Blue' which she had to admit couldn't compete with the
blue-white hair these ladies sported. "It does," she agreed, "It
absolutely does."

She wondered where Doc was hiding. Grizzly
bear? Hah! The coward. He was Teddy from now on.

"Here. We brought you breakfast," they said
together and held out their baskets.

"Thank you." Jazz reached for one of the
baskets and realized she still held her underwear in her hand. "Uh,
um, I don't have any clothes," she blurted.

"We noticed, dear."

"No, I mean my things were stolen. I, uh,
would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Oh no, dear…"

"That would be lovely…"

It was the first time they disagreed. Jazz
grabbed two mugs from the drainboard and set them on the table. The
twins exchanged a glance, nodded, and sat, eager to hear whatever
she had to tell them.

"I don't have any milk. I have sugar,
though." She pushed the saucer toward them on which she'd tossed
the dozen sugar packets she'd found while cleaning.

"You've been busy," Edna beamed, looking
around. She reached into her basket and like a stage magician,
pulled out a little cardboard container of milk the size they
served with grade school lunch. "He won't let anybody in to
help."

"We've tried," Edith added as she accepted
the open carton. "Thank you, Sister."

Jazz bet they did. She'd also bet they were
the source of news for the entire town. "Ladies I need help.
Everything I had was stolen last night. I need something to wear. I
need…"

"Oh, honey, you need to talk to Doc. He'll
know what to do. He'll know who to call," Edith told her and her
sister nodded. "It must be hard being so far from home."

"Yes," Edna agreed, "So hard. Just where is
home, dear?"

They spent the next fifteen minutes fishing
for information, but offered little in the way of help. Jazz
fielded all their questions with vague answers and they referred
all her questions to Doc, who they seemed to consider the authority
on all things Gilead. Any mention of their Alpha, the leader of
their pack, was met with sympathetic clucks, but very little
information.

By the time they left, the biscuits were cold
and her underwear was dry. The all-knowing, all-seeing Doc had
disappeared. Smart man. Those twins, adorable as they appeared, had
worn her out with their energy and inquisitiveness.

Jazz dressed in clean underwear and another
borrowed shirt, this one a heavy flannel that she tied at her
waist. She had to roll the sleeves halfway up before her hands were
free. It was spring, but the house was cold. The man obviously
didn't believe in heat any more than he did hot water or indoor
plumbing. She slid the leather slacks up over her hips, buttoned
and zipped and smoothed them into place.

Never meant for riding motorcycles, the
slacks had been her best alternative when trying to sneak away and
during the long hours on the bike, they'd chafed in some pretty
uncomfortable places. Bottom line? They hurt like a sonofabitch,
but there was nothing to be done about it. With her heavy white
socks pulled up over their tapered legs, and the baggy shirt tied
at her waist, she looked like a model for Homeless Wear Daily, but
there was nothing to be done about that either.

Putting makeup on was another trial. Not
having luggage, she'd stuffed everything she'd need in her shoulder
bag, everything but a mirror. She couldn't believe there was no
mirror in this house, but then again, the grizzly didn't shave.
Forced to use the one in the tiny compact, she did the best she
could. There was nothing to be done about her hair. All her hair
products had been packed away in the Victory. All she could do was
comb it flat and she was sure it looked ridiculous with its fringe
of bright blue.

Dressed for the day, as
poor as it was, she straightened the covers and made the bed,
folding her tee shirt nighty and tucking it under the pillow she'd
used the night before.
She folded the
blanket he had given her
neatly and laid
across the foot of the bed. It was while she was picking up more
clothing and papers from the floor beside the bed that she heard
the muted sounds of voices coming through the door he'd disappeared
through the night before.

Jazz knocked. The voice continued and she
knocked again, a little more impatiently. She was about to knock a
third time when the door opened and she was confronted by a broad
chest covered in a faded Navy blue thermal shirt that was topped
with a white lab coat.

"What?" The grizzly stared down at her.

"I, uh, um." She stared past him into a
spotlessly clean examining room where a middle-aged man sat on the
examining table with his shirt unbuttoned, chest exposed.
"Shit."

"No, that's not shit. That's Harvey. What do
you want?" The grizzly didn't look happy to see her.

"I didn't know… I…" She closed her eyes and
tried again. "Edith and Edna brought eggs. You didn't have any
breakfast this morning."

The man on the table, Harvey, snickered.

"I thought you might like some. You must be
hungry after last night."

Harvey snickered again and winked.

"Just put them in the refrigerator. We can
have some for lunch or you can make some for yourself if you're
hungry." He thrust his head forward and gave her an annoyed look
that silently asked if there was anything else. "I'm kind of busy
here."

"I don't know where the refrigerator is," she
said meekly.

"Back porch," he said and closed the
door.

Jazz wrinkled her nose and stuck out her
tongue. "Bastard."

Set high off the ground, the back porch was
solidly built and heavily screened on the two sides exposed to the
yard. This would certainly keep the bugs out and with the
surrounding trees would make a lovely place to picnic in the
summer, if it wasn't for the godawful smell.

Afraid of what she might see, Jazz leaned
forward to look out over the edge. A half dozen pigs rooted around
in the muck. Off to the side, separated from the rest by a fence, a
sow nursed a row of pink piglets. Jazz closed her eyes and shook
her head. The grizzly bear raised pigs in his backyard.

The refrigerator, an ancient gas model, so
she discerned from the rusted label on the front, was full to
bursting. A huge roast of beef took up one side of the deepest
shelf and the rest was filled with plates of ham, coarse ground
beef, pork, both roasts and chops, and chickens. The uppermost
shelf, to the right of the tiny freezer, was loaded with four six
packs of beer, the left with a cloth covered jug of milk and a
plastic two liter bottle of what might be tea. She placed the eggs
in the huge bowl on the bottom shelf which was already full of them
and traded out some of the older ones to use for lunch. One bin at
the bottom was filled with cheese, all in all a typical wolver
refrigerator, but how in the hell could one man eat all this food
particularly one who's oven looked like it hadn't been used in
months.

Step two of what she now thought of as her
grizzly den renovation plan was to clean the damn oven, so she
could make him a decent meal before the meat spoiled. Oven cleaning
was something Margie used to make her do as punishment when she was
a teenager and came in late or mouthed off. Jazz was an expert at
oven cleaning.

She brought the eggs in, balancing them atop
the roast beef and set them on the counter, but before she could
begin the chore of sanitizing the grease coated oven, voices out
front attracted her attention. Pushing the dusty blinds apart, she
peered out and was immediately caught out by three women sheltering
on the porch.

The oldest of the three pursed her lips and
narrowed her eyes when she saw Jazz peeking out the window and her
frown must have telegraphed a message to her companions who turned.
One waved shyly.