Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Callisto

"Our parents aren't bad people. I wanted to tell you that when we met at the hall a few days ago, but at the time, I was too shell-shocked to think of anything to say."

Callisto watched her sister's profile. Taylee sat in the front passenger seat while Clay drove. He'd come to pick her and Sophia up in his truck to take them to a neutral meeting spot well away from either clan's land. Clarence and Samuel met the day before and then Rory came back with news late at night, after the babies were long asleep and even Fraiser was in bed. She'd been told at noon that there would be a meeting at Samuel's house. She hadn't thought it would take so long for them to decide on an outcome.

Rory hadn't told her that she had to meet her parents. He'd asked her if she would be amenable to meeting them at a campground further into the mountains where neither party was on each other's land. Pinefall was strict about their rules. They didn't allow outsiders. She and Sophia weren't welcome.

She'd tried hard not to let that confirm the evil she'd made her parents out to be in her mind. She might have felt bitter and spiteful, but a small part of her always wanted to believe that maybe they'd had no other choice and that they'd thought about her, wondered about her, loved her in their own way.

She couldn't think of anything to respond, but Sophia, who sat behind Taylee, spoke up for her.

"Can you tell us more? Anything is welcome."

Taylee made a sound in her throat that people reserved for times that were so mixed, there wasn't anything else that could suit. "I don't remember anything before the accident, but it's been years since then. My—our—mom is an artist. Her work is beautiful. I'm pretty good too, it's so weird how the brain works. I didn't lose everything, I just couldn't bring it up on demand. I didn't lose my skill, or at least I was able to relearn it quickly. Afterwards, when I had to get to know my family again, I found our mom to be… patient. Kind. Gentle."

"She is patient, kind, and gentle," Clay confirmed.

Behind the wheel, he guided the truck carefully through the twisting mountain roads. Some parts of the country, with the mountains in the distance, the green everywhere, the streams cutting through alongside the road, looked exactly like Yellowstone. It made Callisto feel horribly homesick.

"Dad is- I don't know. Quiet sometimes. Mom is the stronger force of the two, although she's so much smaller. Dad is easy going from what I know."

Clay's head bobbed in a nod. Callisto studied the side of Taylee's face before switching to Clay's. She wasn't like her siblings. She wasn't dainty like Taylee or built rock solid like Clay. She didn't have their hair or their eyes, she'd not met her brother, Jem, so wasn't sure how she compared to him, but she assumed he had the same darker coloring. Maybe something of them was there in her eye shape or her cheekbones, but she couldn't be sure. It made that question that burned inside of her since she'd looked in the mirror—who do I look like, and where did I come from—flame that much brighter.

"You've spoken with them?" Sophia asked, again on her own initiative.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, because of course she hadn't slept at all for two nights straight, or maybe it was the lack of calories—because she had barely eaten either—but Callisto's brain felt like it was on fire. It roared with the anxiety inside of her one second and the next, it refused to offer up a single coherent thought.

"We have. We called them together and then we called Jem, also together." Taylee sighed softly. "Our parents denied nothing. They didn't sound defensive either. Clay wanted to drive to Pinefall, and maybe we should have, but we didn't want them to feel like we were being confrontational. We don't have a right to answers as badly as you do, but we'd like them all the same. It's probably better that we didn't go, but it's impossible to judge anything over the phone. The call only lasted a few minutes. They already knew what was happening. Clarence had already met with Sam. We waited until after that out of respect for our alphas."

"Jem lost his mind, but he's like that. He's been in Pinefall too long. He hasn't seen much of the world. He's single. Never really dated anyone because if you're not going to leave the clan, that can get messy. Our parents have tried to step in often, but he won't have it. He's- a different duck. I hope he's calmed down."

Taylee turned around and offered a shy but sincere smile. "How are you feeling? I don't think anyone has slept since that day at the hall."

Callisto signed to Sophia, and she spoke for her. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to cause your families pain. I know you both have children and mates."

"We did tell them," Taylee said, biting down on her bottom lip. "But just Elowen and Kier know, other than Sam and Clarence. I don't even think Sam has made Nelson aware of the situation yet. He wanted us to have this meeting first. This is primarily between our family."

"It's a whole clan thing," Sophia said, anticipating what Callisto was going to sign before she could even do it.

"You're right, but I think we're going to hear about that today too."

Callisto tucked her hands in her lap. She felt Sophia's eyes burning into her, but she turned her face to the small side window. It wouldn't be right to say something about restitution or vengeance or Greenacre separating or cutting Pinefall off. Clay and Taylee were parents who appeared to love their children fiercely. They'd moved out of Pinefall in order to live with their mates. While they were no longer officially a part of that clan, they would always be because they were born there and had family there. That gave them some ownership of the place, but it didn't make them responsible for the things that happened. She had no right to ask them what they thought a fitting punishment should be. They'd probably gone over it in their head countless times since the hall. They were, in their own way, suffering too. It was all the worse for the fact that to them, this was a brand-new revelation. They hadn't had years to let the reality of it weigh on them.

Facing the window was comforting. Right or wrong, it felt like no one could read whatever snuck through that barrier she was so good at erecting.

Everyone stayed quiet for the rest of the hour-long ride.

The breathtaking scenery was lost on Callisto and probably everyone else as well. Too much darkness in the mind ruined a beautiful, warm, sunny summer day. And well it should because it was a day of fucking reckoning.

There was very little room for apologies or excuses any longer. The truth would be harsh, and it would be hard. It would wound her further. Callisto had to prepare for that.

Rory asked her if she wanted him to come, but she'd declined. She'd told herself she didn't need him there with her, treating her like she was made of glass, something to be coddled and shielded and protected. The idea disgusted her. She'd always been strong enough to stand on her own. She'd always been the protector. She'd clawed her way through life virtually alone, save for Sophia. She could do it again.

Was it fucked up or pathetic that the second they drove through the arches of the campground—a sign with a sunshine, clouds, and a mountain range—that now she missed his presence, not as a shield or a weapon, but as… a comfort.

Clay kept driving and Taylee sat so quietly. The whole truck felt like someone had come down and cast a spell of silence over it. Some powerful god or goddess. Maybe the one she'd been named for. Who had given her that name? Where had it come from? She'd always assumed it was her foster mother, but she'd been about as cultured as a pile of horseshit.

The narrow, twisting, gravel road wound its way past wooden log buildings, picnic tables, stretches of green grass, and dozens of campsites with colorful tents and RVs ranging in size from truck campers to huge fifth wheels that seemed to have defied gravity to get so far up the mountains. Callisto felt a new chill creep into her bones as they grew closer to their destination. It was the anxiety, but instead of firing her nerves, it injected ice into her blood.

When Clay stopped the truck in front of a barren stretch of grass surrounded by a few tall trees, she was sure she was going to be so frozen they'd have to break her apart and reassemble her just to move her from the backseat out there.

There were no other vehicles. No parents and no brother waiting for her. She nearly laughed when she thought about them materializing in black clouds of smoke. They were shifters, bears, not witches.

Clay killed the engine. The truck was so compact that the back doors could only be opened after the front ones. For a moment panic flooded her. Had he driven them here to kill them? Where were her parents? She took a deep, steadying breath—as a shifter, she could scent emotion and she wasn't getting anything bad from Clay. He was anxious, as was Taylee, but it didn't feel like he had anything nefarious planned.

After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a minute or so, he opened the back doors and she sat there, willing herself to move. She was so frozen, so cold, that she had to find something to focus on. The white wood marker with the campsite number, two hundred and eighty-six—the blue paint peeling so the six was half gone. The grass, growing vibrant near the tree line, but flatter and yellowed in the rest of the campsite where repeated tents and tires had taken a toll. The brown wooden picnic table with the peeling paint, the wood grayed out underneath. The sky in jewel tones above them, the rocky, craggy tips of the mountains in the distance piercing through the soft blue perfection of the sky, wreathed in clouds and capped with snow, the sun so bright and dazzling that it brought a sheen of tears to her eyes.

"It's going to be okay." Taylee appeared suddenly, like an apparition. Callisto blinked. Really, her sister just walked around the side of the truck. She stood there beside Clay, both of them looking discomfited and doubtful, like the whole thing was a terrible idea, but Taylee had her hand stretched out.

When Callisto touched her fingers, the warmth of her sister flowed through her, thawing the ice. She could move. Even if every single movement was a protest and her body was a thing of pain. Sophia must have gotten out of the truck and come around too, because her hand slipped into her free one. No one tugged her out of the truck, but they did guide her.

Clay stood back, hands jammed into his pockets. He had that gruff look of a guy who still wasn't all that comfortable with emotional things about this was about as extreme as it got. He didn't know what to do if he couldn't see it or fight it. He bristled with the tension, shoving the toe of his black boot into the dirt.

As Callisto stepped out of the truck, another pulled up. Blue. Dark blue, with rust around the back wheels and a few darker reddish-brown spots bulleted around the front tires and edges of the door. Her breath caught. She didn't dare look further up. She kept her eyes on Taylee and Sophia, but they were frozen too. They still clung to her hands. It took all her strength to gently disentangle herself from them, but they ringed themselves at either side. Even Clay stepped forward, putting himself between them and the truck.

If anyone drove by, they'd think it was the most awkward, slightly hostile group of campers they'd ever seen. Lost. They probably all looked that way. Bewildered, like they'd ventured mistakenly into the mountains and wondered at how they'd found themselves so far off course.

She stopped worrying about what it might look like when that truck shot off and the driver's door opened. Not a man, but a woman. Older. Gray hair and darker eyes. Eyes so wide and full of emotion. Fear, caution, grief, regret, a fraction of hopeful warmth. She stopped as soon as she saw Callisto, the truck door still flung wide behind her. She grasped for it and let out a sharp little cry.

"Mom." Someone rushed to the woman's side.

Not Clay, but a very like version of him. Tall with a broad, muscular build. He was more streamlined, not so chunky. He didn't have that almost violent edge about him that warned people to be wary. His hair was dark, but unlike Clay and Taylee's, his was edged and salted with gray.

Jem.

Her brother.

"Grace." Callisto's eyes shot to the face of her father. He looked like an older version of Clay. He had deeper lines around his eyes, laugh lines, although at the moment, he just looked exhausted.

They bracketed the woman—her mother—like Taylee and Sophia flanked her.

Time lost its meaning as they all just stood there. They could have gone on like that, shockwaves and a thousand emotions pulsing from each of them, had Clay not cleared his throat.

"Maybe we should sit down."

The sagging picnic table and its weatherworn benches in the campsite was hardly an option, but Callisto blinked and realized just what a toll the past few days had taken on her mother. She sagged against Jem, who led her like she was an old woman, over to the ancient table. He helped her sit down and she basically crumpled inward, thrusting her hands over her face.

It wasn't just days that had taken their toll. It was years. The same years that she'd lived with. For every unanswered question that she'd had ringing through her mind and piercing her heart, how many had this woman who had carried her and birthed her known?

For just a second, Callisto forgot that these were people she was supposed to hate. Her thirst for vengeance and her demand for retribution dried up and she was just a long-lost woman finding out where she'd come from, a daughter returning to her family, imperfect and flawed as they were.

She'd expected to burn with anger and mete out justice. It all deserted her, and she felt nearly crippled at the new sensation.

Forgiveness wasn't something she'd ever seen herself offering, understanding and even empathy less so.

She noticed all the little things like rapid fire bursts. The thickness of her dad's hair even though it was fully gray. The way her mother wore hers long. The shape of their eyes and noses, their cheekbones and jawlines, her father's height and athletic build. He stood next to the picnic table, one hand resting on her mother's shoulder, but the way he looked down at her, appeared helplessly. It was telling. In the family, their mother was obviously the rock. People went to her in times of crisis.

And Jem? He was a mix of all of them. She could see their parents and Clay and Taylee in him. No one would doubt that he was their sibling. The only one in doubt would be her. Past his stoic, solid appearance, Jem had the look of a wounded animal. One put in a cage. One biding its time. One who never railed and rattled bars like she gathered Clay would have. Jem was more like Taylee. Patient. But still trapped in ways that she wasn't. Taylee had left Pinefall. She'd chosen a mate and had a family outside of it. Jem was middle-aged, older than her, but he looked stuck.

Clay and Taylee moved to circle their parents. They stood at their backs, a collective, but they didn't look at her and Sophia as outsiders.

She wasn't going to start first. She was going to wait for what they had to say. Callisto had every right to appear hard and cold. She'd anticipated being the one who refused to break, but reality was quite different. She was glad when Sophia put her hand on her arm.

Callisto knew she should be fully pissed and that was it. No part of herself should wonder about these people. Her siblings got a pass, but her parents—nope. They were supposed to be soulless, heartless monsters.

They didn't appear like monsters.

Her mother especially. When she took her hands away, her cheeks were wet. Those tears should be infuriating. Instead, they made Callisto's throat close up involuntarily. She'd never made a habit of being unkind to anyone. Her parents were going to be her special brand of soullessness. They weren't supposed to have a redemption arc.

Sophia squeezed her arm. She had to turn and look at her. She looked proud, like she'd been living in Callisto's head for the past ten minutes, cycling through all those emotions with her. She probably had been. Sophia didn't need gifts like telepathy. Her face said it all.

The redemption arc isn't for them. It's for you.

With the gentle pressure on her arm urging her forward, Callisto was able to take a few shuffling, painfully heavy steps towards the group. Clay stood there, as stoic and emotionless as was his usual. Jem looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. He kept scanning the area behind them like some other unwelcome surprise was going to jump out. He wore that faded plaid and jeans combo, but not like Rory wore it.

No one wore it like Rory.

She pushed the annoying thought back down into the pit of herself, into that stupid box labelled ‘things she shouldn't even be contemplating'.

She stood in front of her family and waited. Heart in throat was biologically impossible, but that's how it felt.

"There are no words." That came from her father, who studied her with unblinking, dry eyes and an unflinching expression, but she could smell the pain coming off him. That wasn't the mountains or the trees or anything natural throwing off that brand of darkness. "There are no amount of apologies that would ever be adequate. There is no explanation that wouldn't sound like an excuse, but will you allow us to explain?"

She lifted a shoulder, like she didn't care one way or the other. Part of her still wanted to scream in his face and that part was a barely contained bear, eager to claw and fight. The other half? That was the little girl who had been lost for so very long, and that lostness had been a dark, unkind, frequently scary place, no matter that she'd survived, or that she pretended otherwise.

"There was a clan law…" Her mother whispered brokenly. "Most of us knew it more like a legend, but if it ever happened that- that you found yourself in that position where a child was born with a problem," she paused and wiped her eyes. "The midwives, they upheld the law... I suppose it was based on the idea that it was nearly impossible to survive as a shifter in the heart of humanity. There was enough danger to us in Texas, so much so that we eventually left and came here to stay hidden and keep our secret safe. Anyway, back there, the clan would be unable to care for someone who needed advanced medical care or any sort of frequent trips to hospitals. That posed the greatest risk. No child would shift right then and there, at least not before they were nine or ten, but through examination and repeated careful study, some abnormalities might be noted. Then there was the idea that parents couldn't be trusted to hand their child over and let them be examined, oftentimes hurt, and not lose control. Hospitals are stressful places for shifters as it is."

Callisto raised her hands, ready to have Sophia translate exactly what she thought about that, but her father cut in before she could even make the first motion.

"We want you to know that we refused to- to- leave you out anywhere. That was unthinkable. The midwife told us she would take you and deliver you to a shifter living in Houston. That you would be cared for and looked after."

Callisto's entire body went cold. She was an ice bath. A plunge into frigid waters. She couldn't catch her breath. She knew how that worked out, but her parents didn't. They'd put their trust in a woman who would rather have killed her than risk the shifter secret being known.

She had to sign something now because that was just as inconceivable and cruel. You do realize how foolish that is? Placing a shifter into mainstream society if you don't want the secret getting out?

Sophia repeated that, but she left out the accusatory sarcasm in her tone.

Callisto knew her parents' names. It felt fitting that she use them. They weren't really mom and dad or mother and father, even. Grace and Adam. Two people who were made to do an unthinkable, terrible thing. Two people who had clearly suffered dearly for it ever since. Callisto did see that. She did note the weariness, the stooped shoulders, the weight of demons, the haunted shadows in their eyes. She noted the horror and distaste on her siblings' faces. The way they all shared a cautious look with one another.

If I had a child, I would do anything to protect her. I would never hand my baby over. I'd leave whatever monstrous place I was living in before that ever happened.

Sophia didn't hesitate. She translated exactly.

"We couldn't. We just… couldn't. The clan was everything to us. We had children. A family. All our relatives were there."

Callisto's hands flew as she signed.

You could have tried. You could have gone back. You could have looked for me just once. You would have seen that not all was well. I knew something was wrong with me other than not having a voice. Do you know what it's like to shift for the first time and think you're going mad? Wonder what the hell is happening? Thank goodness the first time it happened I was alone, but I still thought I was going crazy until I did it a few years later when Sophia was with me, and she confirmed I really did become a bear.

She stopped signing to let Sophia catch up with her interpretation, and also to let the enormity of that sink in.

I was good at self-control by then. Masterful, actually, given the way we lived robbed us of a childhood. That was the only thing that saved me, but I still didn't know what I was.

Sophia interpreted, then she shared a look with Callisto. She stood by her now the very same way she always had. Unconditionally, with unending kindness.

I owe Sophia my life and my soul. I owe her the help I received in school. I owe her my form of expression. I would be nothing without her. None of us would be here if she hadn't intervened. I had my mind set that I would make you pay for the years I suffered, but she made me see that pain and destruction wouldn't just destroy you. It would destroy the people you love. Innocent people. It would destroy me, and I want more. I want my life to be more than just—

She stopped and tried to think of how best to say what hurt the most. That someone had taken one look at her and decided she was faulty. That she was wrong, that she was nothing.

Whoever looked at me when I was born and dictated my fate to be nothing, I need to prove them wrong. I am not nothing. I am capable of forgiveness. I am capable of choosing for myself. I'm capable of making a family of my own. I'm more. That's it. That's all I have to say.

After Sophia passed that along, she threw her arms around Callisto.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered in her ear so very softly. "You are more. You've always been more."

Her hands shook as she signed nearly into Sophia's face. She was truly afraid that if she stood there for a second longer, she was going to break down. She needed a quiet moment for that. A place where she could learn how to weep and heal and figure out what she really wanted in life now that her goal of revenge had been taken away.

She knew, but she had to put a face to it. A name. Several names. A place that wasn't Yellowstone. A future she never would have foreseen for herself.

I'd really like to go back now. Please.

Sophia gave her a tight nod, stepping between her and everyone else, like her small body could shield her. Physically, it couldn't, but in every other way, she did.

"Thank you for coming. Callisto would like to leave now. I know her and she needs time to process this. It doesn't matter that not much was said. It was enough."

Yes. It was more than enough.

Grace and Adam were right about one thing. There weren't any other words that needed to be spoken. There were no words at all. Sometimes saying nothing was the most powerful response. In that regard, her gift was the most natural of blessings.