Chapter 12 - Miley

It took two days to make it to what Miley thought was the old Peters Farm. The sign at the end of the lane where she had gotten off the third bus was so faded it was hard to tell if it even said Peters on it.

But she was hopeful. And after two days of walking, hitchhiking, and buses, sleeping in bus shelters and stations, she was more than ready for a bit of luck and a good rest.

All she could pray for was the fact her grandmother was still the same woman from her father"s stories. The woman who had made him breakfast and cookies and tucked him into bed at night even though his father had been as cruel and abusive as he was now.

Old man Peters was long dead and buried from what she had heard. Widowed, her grandmother might be glad of the company. That, or she was so used to her own company, she did not fancy the idea of anyone coming in and spoiling it.

Trudging up the lane, she felt like it might never end, but as the open fields on either side turned to shaded woodland, she at least found respite from the driving heat of the sun.

Her forearm was aching terribly, and her feet were so sore she thought that the second she took her converse trainers off they"d swell up like balloons.

Reaching the gate at the end of the lane, she marveled at beauty of the place. A white-painted farmhouse stood at the far end of the yard. To the right stood a red and white all-American barn and to the left a vast garden filled with flower beds and vegetable patches. Beyond that there appeared to be an orchard, and surrounding it all there were fields as far as the eye could see.

"Well," she said aloud, sucking in a deep, steadying breath. "Here goes nothing."

Unlatching the heavy white-painted wooden gate, she slipped through and closed it behind her. As she walked across the yard, she barely dared to breathe, her heart hammering in her chest.

Even before she made it up onto the porch, she heard a dog barking. The sound made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

At the door, she paused, her hand raised to knock. Was she really about to do this? Was she really about to meet her grandmother for the first time ever while running away from her son and all he had put her through?

It didn"t seem real. In a way, it didn"t seem right.

But before she could knock or change her mind and turn around, she heard the click of the door handle. It was far louder than she might have expected, and when the door opened, the dog's barking was so piercing it hurt her ears.

She squinted, fighting the urge to cover her ears.

"Hush, Moses!" the woman at the door instructed, wafting a dish towel at a gorgeously fluffy liver-and-white collie dog. "Mo! Enough!"

It was only when the dog whimpered and grew quiet, dropping down onto its belly with its chin on its paws, that the elderly woman turned to Miley and said, "Yes? Can I help you?"

Tears immediately sprang to Miley"s eyes, and the urge to throw herself into a grandmother"s warm embrace was almost uncontrollable. She had to shove her hands into her jeans pockets to stop from doing so.

The woman"s hair was gray streaked with white and pinned back in an octopus clip at the crown of her head. Like Miley"s hair, it was all thick curls, and for the first time Miley saw where her abundance of hair had come from.

"Grandma Peters?" she gasped past the lump in her throat. It was all she could think to say.

Confusion darkened the woman"s green gaze. Yet another thing Miley appeared to have inherited from her.

"I"m sorry, dear, I don"t have a granddaughter," the woman said, though the sadness in her gaze suggested she wished differently.

"Grandma, it's me, Miley," she said, praying she had the right house. What if she had come all this way only to learn her grandmother had also passed and some other random old lady was now living in her house?

But the woman reached up and clutched the silver cross hanging around her neck. "Sweet Mary, mother of Jesus!"

Miley bit back the urge to laugh. Her father had always told her that his mother was a big religious nut, but to hear her speak in such a way was funny. It didn't sound all that devout to her.

"Oh, Miley!" the woman exclaimed then, and before she knew it, Miley was getting that big old grandma hug she had hoped for.

She melted into the woman"s arms, feeling warm and safe for perhaps the first time in her life. The smell of fresh baked goods and bread was all over the woman, and it wafted from inside the house, too.

"Oh, sweetheart, come in out of the sun and I"ll pour you a glass of fresh homemade lemonade," grandma said, urging her into the house. "I just picked the lemons myself this morning."

Miley smiled, tears still pricking her eyes as she was guided over the threshold. Yet, the second her foot touched the hardwood kitchen floor, Moses bounced up onto his feet and started to bare his teeth.

He snarled angrily at her, barking as if warning her not to take another step.

"Oh, shoo! Off with you, you mangy old man!" Grandma ordered, grabbing the towel from where she had draped it over her shoulder. She whipped it at the collie, hissing through her teeth until he finally backed off.

"Don"t mind him, he"s your grandpa"s dog. I had a mind to get him gone years ago, but I couldn't quite bring myself to do it."

"I"m sure he"s just being protective," Miley said, though she couldn"t help but feel it was something more than that. She usually loved dogs, but just looking at this one made her skin crawl.

It was the itching of her wound under the bandage that Lauren had put on for her that distracted her.

"Come now, sit at the table and I"ll get us some lemonade and biscuits," Grandma instructed, and Miley did just that.

She dropped down at the circular table with such relief she couldn"t help but sigh aloud.

"What brings you all the way from Nightstar, sweetie?" Grandma asked, placing a glass of lemonade in front of her.

Miley gulped. She only realized she had closed her eyes when she was forced to open them and answer her grandma"s question. "I was looking for a change of scenery for a while."

She shrugged.

Her grandmother didn"t look entirely convinced, but she didn"t pressure her for the truth as she sat down opposite and pushed a plate of cookies towards her. "Have as many as you"d like. You look famished."

Miley took a couple of the shortbreads, her favorites, and scarfed them down. She was half-starved. She had barely eaten save for some beef jerky and fruit she had packed into her small bag.

"I was on the road longer than I expected," she admitted, blushing when she realized her grandma was watching her with a perplexed expression.

"What are you doing all the way up here?" her grandma asked. "This is practically the middle of nowhere."

Miley laughed. Nightstar was the middle of nowhere. Compared to there, this place was filled with people. She had seen at least ten other farms on the way.

"I"m just passing through and Daddy gave me your address, I hope you don"t mind," Miley said, hoping that would be enough.

"Of course I don"t!" her grandma reached over and laid a wrinkled hand on hers. "I"ve been wanting to meet you and your mama for so damn long."

There she was, cursing again. Not at all the woman her son had made her out to be.

"Maybe you ought to call her and let her know you got here safe?" Grandma suggested, gesturing to the old-fashioned corded phone hanging from the wall. It was like something out of a museum. In fact, all she had seen of the farmhouse so far was. It was almost like she had stepped into a fairytale book.

The country style of the place was all pink and yellow with white lace frills. The grapevine patterns on some of the kitchen tiles were fascinating. And then there was the hen tea cozy on what Miley could only imagine was an old stove kettle.

"I…umm, I called when I got to the gate," Miley said, gesturing out the window to the yard. Quickly, trying to change the subject, she added, "You have a lovely home."

Grandma sighed heavily and Miley felt a twist in her gut.

"I"m afraid this place hasn"t felt like home for a long time," Grandma said, shaking her head. She looked down into her lemonade glass before she added, "Not since your daddy left and your grandpa passed."

Bile rose in the back of Miley"s throat. She could feel the loneliness coming off her grandma in waves. In an odd way, she felt as if she might be preying upon the woman"s weakness, and yet she couldn't stop from seizing the opportunity.

"Well, I was just passing through," she said warily, "but maybe, well, maybe I could stay for a couple of days and help it feel like more of a home again."

Glancing around, she noticed the layer of dust that sat on the things just out of reach. She suspected her grandma had foregone using the step ladder in the corner to do her dusting long ago.

"Won"t your parents be looking to have you back?" Grandma asked, though her expression was hopeful.

Miley cringed, hoping her grandma wouldn"t notice. "I can text and let them know. Besides, I didn"t plan on heading back to Nightstar anytime soon, anyway. I figured at nineteen it was well past time to see more of the world."

It was then that she yawned. She hadn"t meant to, but she was so exhausted it was impossible not to.

"Oh, you poor thing!" her grandma squeezed her hand tightly. "You must be exhausted. Of course you can stay! Stay as long as you"d like."

Relief washed over Miley like a bucket of warm water, and she smiled a real, ear-to-ear smile for what felt like the first time in her life.

"Thank you, Grandma," she said, placing her free hand on top of her grandmother"s. "I hope it won"t be too much of an imposition."

"Of course not! I"ve waited a long time to meet you, my sweet girl!" Grandma said, and she reached with her other hand to cup Miley"s cheek. "Why don"t you come with me, and I"ll show you to the guest room. You can clean up and rest before supper. I made a huge pot of rabbit stew just yesterday."

Miley"s stomach growled at that, and she grabbed one more cookie and her lemonade before following her grandma through the house.

The rest of the place was just as one might have imagined an old farmhouse would look, cute and cozy if a little musty.

When her grandma opened up the bedroom door on the ground floor, Miley was surprised at the smell of fresh linen and lavender.

As if she sensed her surprise, Grandma shrugged and said, "You never know when you might expect guests. I like to keep the place ready just in case."

Moses, who had followed them down the hall, grunted as if he wasn"t best pleased by the latest guest to arrive at their door.

He started to grumble again until Grandma shooed him off and he disappeared back down the hall. Miley could just see him as he plopped himself back down on the rug beside the stove.

"Go ahead. Help yourself to the bed," Grandma instructed, helping Miley off with her bag. "I"ll come and wake you when supper is ready."

"Thank you," Miley said, and she was surprised when Grandma pulled her into a tight embrace again.

"I"m so glad you came to see me," Grandma said, and there were tears in her eyes as she pulled back. "I never thought I'd get the chance to meet you."

Miley"s throat constricted. She tried to speak, but Grandma beat her to it, wiping away her tears. "Oh, look at me. I"m an old fool."

"No, you"re not," Miley said, wiping away her own.

The two women looked at each other in silence for a minute more before Grandma slipped from the room and clicked the door closed behind her.

Feeling deflated after all she had been through, Miley collapsed onto the bed.

The itching in her arm was growing worse, and as she attempted to rest, it made it impossible. Gritting her teeth, she yanked off her hoodie and unraveled the bandage.

Fear gripped her as she imagined what she might find. Maybe it was infected. That was why wounds itched, wasn"t it? She wasn"t sure.

She squealed like a little mouse, shocked beyond belief when she looked down at her forearm to see nothing but smooth, unmarred skin.

"Fuck!" she hissed through gritted teeth. How was that even possible?

Only two days ago, the wound had been bleeding. It had been deep, the edges jagged, and just as Lauren had said, it had looked exactly like an animal bite.

Again, she had a flashback of the wolf biting her. The pain had been agony. The smell of blood had been metallic in her nostrils. The panic had turned to hysteria, but she hadn"t imagined it. She knew that much.

Maybe she was imagining this.

She poked her arm, expecting pain, imagining the wound suddenly appearing again and her fingers coming away bloody.

"Fuck!" she growled again. This time she jumped at the sound of her own voice. It had actually sounded like a growl.

The scraping at the bedroom door alerted her to Moses. His whimpering was loud. Instinctively, Miley growled back.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Panic flared in her stomach. She had read too many books to be under any illusions.

Bitten by a wolf. The wound healed in a matter of days. Growling like an animal. She knew all too well what was happening.

No, no! You're just tired and hungry, she told herself firmly. There was no way in hell she could be turning into a…

She couldn"t even bring herself to think it.