Chapter 20 - Moira

"Was it really a good idea to let Vera host this thing?" Jonah asked, pushing the stroller down the sidewalk.

Cora slept in the shade of its awning, her nose scrunched up in her sleep. She was perfect. Her delicate fingers clenched and unclenched, searching for the small, stuffed wolf tucked into the stroller. A gift from her Aunt Vera. Moira nudged it within reach, and Cora grabbed onto it, holding it close.

"She said she wanted to do it," Moira said, bumping Jonah with her hip. "And she's got plenty of help. What could go wrong?"

She said it with more confidence than she felt. Vera was anything but a domestic goddess, but she'd volunteered to host the baby shower and refused to answer any of Moira's questions about how the planning was going. So Moira had let it go. Mostly.

"Cue the firetrucks screaming down the street," Jonah teased.

But the house was intact, swarming with people like a kicked ant's nest. It was a hot July day, the sun beating down on her shoulders, and Moira was eager for a cold drink and some shade. Vera burst out of the house as they approached like she'd been watching the door.

From the corner of her eye, Moira saw Jonah flinch and reflexively twist the stroller away. He hadn't fully recovered from his fight against Evans and still woke in the night, sweat-drenched and haunted.

"There you are! Come on, everyone else is already here." Vera dragged them into the backyard, where large white tents provided shade for the gathered crowd. "Don't let those burn!"

The last was shouted to Rami, who stood manning the grill. He fumbled the spatula at her shout but caught it before it hit the grass and flashed her a smile that she, shocking everyone around them, returned.

"This looks great, Vera, seriously," Jonah said, sounding impressed.

Moira had to agree. Despite her doubts, Vera had managed to pull it off. Rosewoods, Silversands, and even a few White Winters were gathered, drinks in hand, to celebrate.

"I can do surgery, Jonah. Do you really think party planning is beyond me?" Vera rolled her eyes, but the disheveled hair and outfit gave her away. Moira's normally pristine sister was rumpled.

"Thank you," Moira said, hugging her. Vera stiffened, then returned it awkwardly.

"I have to make sure Rami isn't burning anything," Vera said, flitting away at the first sign of affection. "And you two should make the rounds."

Moira lifted Cora gently from the stroller and held her against her chest, breathing in the sweet smell of her baby breath.

"Do we have to?" Jonah exhaled and kissed Moira's cheek. "What if we just sneak back to the lighthouse and—"

Moira wagged her finger at him. "Jonah. We're the leaders of the Silversands now. We have to make appearances and show everyone how happy and, healthy, and strong we are. It's one step toward rebuilding. And if you behave, maybe I'll make it worth your while later."

"You could talk me into anything. Come on, then."

Together, they made their way around the party, accepting congratulations and well wishes from everyone they passed until Moira's head began to spin. She was jealous of Cora who got to sleep through the entire thing.

"I'm thinking a surf school is just the thing the town needs," a man was saying to Jonah, drawing Moira's attention away from Cora's sleeping face. He had the shaggy hair of someone who had spent a day at the beach. "We've got some great waves here, and it's a big draw. It gives people something to do and talk about."

Moira nodded eagerly, stepping in when she sensed Jonah's hesitation. Despite their determination to bring new businesses to the town, Jonah couldn't fully hide his reluctance to welcome strangers. Evans had made deep scars in him. It hadn't scraped away his trusting, open nature, but it had tempered it with wariness.

One day, she hoped she'd see those scars washed away by time. Until then, she'd help him learn to trust again.

"That sounds perfect, actually. And I think we've got the ideal spot for it, don't we, Jonah?" Moira pulled Jonah back into the conversation.

"That shack?" He turned thoughtful. "That could work. How about this, come by on Monday, and I'll take you over there. It needs fixing up, but what part of town doesn't?"

"Yeah, man, I'm in," said the surfer.

They shook on it. When the surfer walked away Jonah breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"Hey," Moira said, making him look at her. "You're doing great. Step by step."

"Step by step," he agreed. "Want me to take her? You should take a break and sit for a while. I can show her around."

Truthfully, she was tired, and a break sounded like just the thing. "You don't mind?"

He took Cora from her and smiled down at his daughter, who had him wrapped around her finger the moment she was born. "Never."

While Jonah went off to introduce Cora to Devon and Beth, who had come from the White Winter territory to celebrate, Moira settled herself into a chair. Vera swooped in a second later, and Moira braced herself.

She never knew what to expect anymore from Vera. Moira was now a leader of the Silversands, guiding the pack toward a brighter future. She owned the bakery, which was thriving. And she had a mate who loved her fiercely. Her life didn't need fixing, and Vera was a fixer.

"Are you happy?" Vera asked, looking down into the neck of the beer bottle in her hand. It dripped condensation over her fingers.

"I'm happy," Moira replied.

"That's all I ever wanted for you," Vera said.

Moira bit back her first response and her second, and by the third, she realized that maybe Vera was telling the truth. Her own truth. Maybe the controlling and the pushing and the veiled insults and the not-so-veiled had all been a means to an end for Vera. A way to make sure Moira ended up somewhere good for her. Maybe she hadn't known any other way to show her love.

So Moira let it go. It felt like a weight lifting off of her shoulders, like the first breath of air after coming up from a long dive.

"I know," she said. And she did.

They shared an unreadable look to everyone else but that spoke volumes to Moira. Their relationship would change, but it would survive.

"What's going on between you two?" Moira gestured between Rami and Vera with her water glass. "He's grilling for you? Asking ‘how high' when you say jump?"

Vera, for the first time in Moira's memory, blushed. It softened the harsh lines of her cheekbones and brought a girlishness to her face, but Vera snorted.

"Rami? He's just a friend. If that. Like an acquaintance that comes in handy sometimes," she insisted, not meeting Moira's eyes. "Don't become one of those people who starts trying to fix up everyone around them just because they found a relationship. It won't work on me."

"The lady doth protest too much," Moira said, grinning. "Just admit it. You've got a crush."

Vera flicked a potato chip at her. "Keep your voice down."

"It's our secret," Moira promised.

"Swear it," Vera demanded.

Moira crossed her heart. "I swear. Until you're ready to tell me you've got a big fat crush on Rami, I'll keep it to myself."

People can change, Moira thought to herself, looking around from Vera to Jonah and the White Winters, if you give them a second chance. Two years ago, she could never have imagined her childhood bully becoming the man she spent her life with. Now, she couldn't imagine spending it without him.

"I need to tell you something, Moira." Vera turned suddenly serious. She leaned in close and dropped it down to a whisper. "Something that very few other people know, and it has to stay that way."

Moira almost told her to keep it to herself. They'd had peace for only a few months. A few months of rebuilding the town and drawing in visitors who might one day stay. If this was going to disturb her, she'd rather bury her head in the sand and stay ignorant. But Vera went on anyway.

"Something is happening out east."

Moira frowned and drank the last of her water, throat going dry. "What do you mean, ‘something'?"

"I'm not even supposed to know this." Vera waited for Evelyn to pass by before continuing. "But I overhead Adria talking to Spencer, and I couldn't help myself; I had to listen to the whole thing."

Now Moira knew she didn't want to hear whatever it was, but if it would affect the Silversands, she had an obligation to listen.

"What was it?" Moira asked, once they were alone again.

"A disease or a curse or something. It's spreading across the packs like wildfire."

"But what does it do?"

"They're trapped as wolves. Unable to shift back." Vera peeled the label off her beer bottle and started to shred it into tiny strips. "Eventually, they can't communicate with their pack. They go fully feral."

Moira shivered and searched the crowd for Jonah, trying to imagine who it would be like to lose her ability to talk to him. To hold her daughter. To live life as a shifter.

She'd heard stories of wolves that chose to stay as wolves and live their lives with wild packs, but it was the stuff of myths. And this sounded like something else entirely.

"What kind of disease could do that?" Moira asked.

Shrugging, Vera pushed the scraps into a pile. "No idea. Packs are moving westward to flee the spread of it, but we don't know what caused it or how it spreads or anything. Spencer thinks we should build defenses to keep everyone far away. That we should prepare for war."

Moira clutched at the edge of the table. It seemed wrong to discuss such horrible things there among the party, in the bright sunlight of summer. War disease and horrors belonged in her movies, not there in her real life.

"What did Adria think?" Moira felt certain Adria would have talked sense into Spencer, made him see that he was overreacting to what couldn't be more than just rumor. It couldn't be real.

"I had to go after that, or they would've seen me. But I wanted you to know, just in case." Vera crumpled the pile in her hand and stood up abruptly. "I need to throw this out. Remember Moira, don't tell anyone."

She had to know that Moira would tell Jonah, didn't she? She couldn't keep that secret from her mate, not when it would affect the whole pack if it were true.

Vera joined Rami at the grill, never touching, but standing close enough that if she wanted to, she could. Jonah returned with a squirming Cora in his arms, red-faced and hungry. He rummaged for a bottle of milk and pressed it to her lips.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said, taking the chair that Vera had vacated. "Are they happy ones?"

Moira held his hand beneath the table, tracing her fingers over his knuckles. He seemed relaxed. Happy. She wasn't ready to ruin it. "Very. I can't believe how far we've come."

"And it's only the beginning," Jonah said, drawing her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss against it.

If only he knew.

***

Waves slashed at the shore with fury, loud enough to silence the cries of the seabirds that dove beneath their surface, searching for food. Loud enough to drown the thoughts in Moira's mind. She lay on her back beside Jonah, a blanket between herself and the sand, and counted the stars.

Later, there would be a storm. The promise of it was held in the clouds offshore, the purple of a bruise. But for now, the sky above was clear, and the day's heat had faded to something tolerable. Cora slept peacefully in her basket beside them.

"Do you think it's strange, our three packs coexisting so peacefully?" She wondered aloud.

Jonah shifted, like she'd roused him from sleep. He sat up and braced his elbows on his knees. "Because we're wolves, and it's not our nature?"

Moira nodded, digging her fingers into the sand. It was still hot from the sun. "It feels tenuous. Unnatural."

"We've built many bonds between them. Family, love, friendship. Those things tie us together, and they're stronger than our basest instincts." Jonah tilted his head up to where the lighthouse towered. "We have enough land and no reason to fight."

"But how long will it last?" Moira asked. She knew she was borrowing trouble, but the thought had taken root inside of her. Now that she had Cora, she found herself worrying about the dangers of pack life more than ever. "Packs grow and spread and bump into each other and fight. Territories are reestablished and remade and lives are lost for them."

"What's bothering you, Moira?"

Finally, she broke. She told him everything that Vera had told her of the dangers that lurked around the corner, the rumors she'd heard Jonah listened. He held her while she sobbed into his shoulder and rubbed her back until she stopped crying. It had weighed on her, keeping a secret from him. And a heavy one.

"What are we going to do? What would happen to us, to Cora?" Moira reached for reassurance like it was a life raft.

"Shh," he said, kissing the salt from her cheeks. "Look at what we've already done. We've saved this town. We've saved ourselves. If tomorrow brings a curse to our door, I have no doubt that we can face that, too."

The first drops of rain fell slowly. She welcomed them, tilting her head back to let them wash the tears from her face. He was right—storms would come. They would weather them as the Silversands before them had, and they would be the guiding light through the darkest times.

Jonah scooped Cora's basket and tucked her beneath his arms as they fled the rain for the warmth of the lighthouse. For the warmth of home.

*****

THE END