“Dang it, Jack, you heard what she said! The Huntsman is gone for several days. There’s no one here to cut her out now.” Grimly, I point the carrot at him. “How could you?!”
When he pulls a dog pout, I toss the veggie into the sink and grab Granny’s wooden spoon instead. The part when Roland pulls out his knife and slices the Wolf’s stomach still gives me chills even after living through it thousands of times. I’m certainly not going to grab a knife and do the same to save my granny.
But she must come out of there somehow.
“Open your mouth,” I command, locking gazes with Jack.
Instantly, he backs away into the corner of cupboards, looking at me as if I’m the Grinch taking all his Christmas presents away. A small, helpless moue seals his lips shut.
I don’t have time for this. And Granny doesn’t either. “You asked for it, puppy dog.” Grabbing his snout, I push my fingers and thumb into his flews until his jaws unclamp. Jack rears back with all four legs, his claws scraping on the floor, but it won’t help him. As soon as there’s just a tiny crack between his lips, I stuff the back end of the wooden spoon through and poke it deep down his gorge.
His eyes fly open so wide that a squirrel ogles them for a potential new home from outside the window. At the same time, he begins to gag and heave. Good. I poke harder. In a wild panic, he paws at me, but I’m not going anywhere before he throws up my gran.
When his eyes glaze over like dark crystals, and his throat works frantically, I pull out the spoon and jump back. His entire body jerks, his muscles contracting violently. He coughs and huffs for long seconds. Finally, poor Granny hurtles out of his mouth on a slide of saliva, landing on her butt on the floor. She wipes her icky-wet strands of hair away from her beaming face. “Wow! What a ride!”
I want to rush to her aid, but Jack’s continued convulsive choking holds me back. He shudders and spits out a ball of buff fur right into Granny’s lap. As the salivated little lump of fluff unfurls into a cat with boots, a vest, and a hat, my chin smacks my chest.
“What have you done?” a hoarse whisper escapes me. But the first round of ranting goes to the Puss in Boots.
“How dare you eat me, you stupid, fat dog?” he blusters in a foreign accent, climbing off my Granny and shaking the spittle from his fur. “Did your mama not teach you respect?” Furious, he stalks up to Jack until they’re face-to-face. The nervous whimper can’t save the Wolf now. “I hope you caught the kitty flu. And fleas that will drive you crazy,” the Puss rages on, “by pinching and nipping you from the inside forever!” Filled with disgust, he lifts his arms. Wolf drool still drips from his hands. Yuck, I’m quite sure he doesn’t want to lick that dry.
He huffs at Jack one last time and, with a swift wipe of his paw, brings his claws across Jack’s face. The pained yowl makes me wince. Then the buff cat whips around on his heels and trudges out through the door. It slams shut behind him, but the ongoing scolding carries in through the windows until the Puss disappears into the forest.
Jack looks as if he just stepped off a spinning carousel. As I help my grandma up, I cut him a sharp scowl, even if the red streaks across his muzzle tear at my heartstrings. “Don’t look at me like that. You know you deserved it.”
A sad whine escapes him. He ducks his head and reels out of the kitchen, curling up in front of the couch.
“I better take a quick shower,” Granny says, still quite amused as she hurries into the bathroom. I take the time to wipe the dog drool from the floor with a wet mop. Nothing but trouble with this Wolf. Oh, by the fen fires, it’ll be such a blessing to have him back on two legs again.
After rinsing the drool off the mop and storing it away in the closet, I cut a glance to the living room. Mournful eyes glisten up from under the coffee table. The scratches on his face are gone. Wolves heal fast in Fairyland. And they need to since their stomachs are regularly cut open.
I snort at him and then return to peeling the veggies for lunch.
*
Three chimes from the grandfather clock in the living room tell us that it’s a quarter to noon. Granny and I are almost finished with lunch. I take two plates out of the cupboard to set the table. As I turn around, Jack leans in the doorway. I don’t know how long he’s been standing there, hands in his pockets, chin bashfully lowered, and watching me from under his dark lashes.
For a split second, I halt in my tracks. A smile tugs the corners of my mouth up. Then I put the plates down and run to him, not stopping until my body crashes against his as I fling my arms around his neck. Standing on my toes, I whisper with relief into his ear, “Welcome back.”
Jack wraps his arms around me, rather loosely at first. But soon enough, a deep sigh escapes him, and the embrace tightens. I close my eyes. He pulls me hard against him and lowers his forehead to my shoulder.
“Tough day, hm?” I ask.
As if too ashamed to speak, he only nods into the crook of my neck.
“Ah, what have we here?” Granny cheers from the other side of the kitchen. “The swan turned back into the princess.”
Jack stiffens at the taunt, but I giggle anyway. Releasing me, he finally comes farther into the room. “Ma’am…” His voice raspy and shy, he still can’t seem to hold his head as high as he usually does. “Sorry for eating you.”
Yep, the past forty-eight hours put a dent in his ego. A deep one.
“Ah, don’t worry, my dear.” She pokes him in the side and snickers. “It was hardly the first time, now was it?”
He stares at her for a long moment, then he shakes his head as an embarrassed grin takes shape.
“Sit down.” I push him toward a chair before grabbing a third plate from the cupboard. “Lunch is ready. You must be hungry.”
Granny dishes out soup for all of us, and we partake of a delicious roast chicken with gravy and tiny potato dumplings. I only wish Jack wasn’t so pensive. He barely contributes to our conversation. Whenever I cast him a glance across the table, his guarded gaze is fixed on me as he silently chews chicken bits or spears chopped veggies with his fork.
“Is your friend always this quiet?” Granny voices my concern.
“Not quite so much,” I reply truthfully with a touch of longing for the good old times between Jack and me.
“You know,” she speaks to him now, “most of the time, I only get to see your big mouth and you from the inside. It’s nice to have the real you sitting at my table for once. Feeding you”—she grins—“with something other than myself.”
I nearly choke on my dumpling and look up just in time to see a tiny smile race across Jack’s face. Apparently, that wasn’t enough for Granny because she puts her knife and fork down and wipes her mouth with a linen napkin. “Hey, did I tell you kids that I was at P. Sherman’s dental surgery last week? He made me a set of false teeth.”
Now we both glance at her in confusion. This is odd. She still has all her good chompers. “What for?” Jack asks the question that’s on my tongue, too.
Mischief makes her green eyes gleam as she pokes her finger cheekily into his ribs and waggles her head like a daisy in the wind. “The better to eat you with, eh?”
Dropping the cutlery, I cover my mouth with my fist, trying not to spew veggies across the entire table from laughing. The smile on Jack’s face grows into a lovely chuckle. His eyes quickly dart to my side of the table before he lowers his gaze again and…holy howl of a werewolf, is that a blush on his cheeks?
It’s so cute, I can’t stop staring.
Of course, Jack notices it and presses his lips together in an embarrassed grin as his gaze finds me once more through those roguish strands of hair. Amazing. There seems to be so much more to this Wolf than I thought all these years.
I force myself to continue eating, but the sweet image will be forever burned into my memory.
Chapter 10
Jack