“Moonbeam! What a wonderful surprise! You didn’t send word that you were coming.” Xander grimaced at the name choice, but he knew from many battles long and short that his mother would never of her own free will call him Alexander.
She enveloped him in a hug, and the scents of his childhood overwhelmed him: earth, sun, sweat, the sharp tang of herbs, the milky scent that she’d never fully lost after Yellow was weaned, the clingy odor of fresh cannabis, overlaid with a healthy dose of patchouli. It made him happy, and he hugged her back, tight.
The dogs danced around them, caught up in their joy.
Xander finally stepped back and looked at his mother. She was still beautiful, her face relatively unlined, but her cornflower-blue eyes were crinkled around the edges and her gold nose ring sparkled in the sun. Sixty, and still slim as a girl. It was all the homegrown, pesticide-free vegetables she ate, she swore up and down. He thought it was more to do with the strain of pot they’d perfected that didn’t make them hungry, but he stayed as far away from that business as he could.
Another scent rose up, this one tantalizing.
“Roth getting ready to smoke a deer?”
“Lord, Moon, your nose is as sensitive as a truffle pig. He’s going to be thrilled to see you. Let’s go scare him.”
His mother would forever be a child.
But he humored her, because sometimes he was just a bit too much of an adult.
They snuck around the back of the shed, and at her cue, flung open the door and screamed like Indians. Alexander Roth Whitfield II jumped and screamed in turn, whirling on them with a skinning knife in his hand. When he realized the joke was on him, he set it down and laughed.
“You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days, Sunshine. Moonbeam, good to see you, son.”
Xander accepted his father’s embrace gladly. Though his parents hadn’t supported his decision to join the Army, they still loved him, and stood by him, especially when he came home from the war and disappeared into the woods. The desire for solitude to come to grips with an unjust world, that they understood. They’d made their life on the sentiment.
“Give me a minute more here, son, I’m nearly finished.”
His mother chimed in, “Moon, you just missed lunch, but I can put together a plate for you. Fresh kale and edamame and toasted sesame dressing suit you? I can cut up some tofu if you want protein, we just finished the last of the chicken. The venison isn’t cured yet, obviously. The rest is put aside for stew tomorrow. What timing you have!”
“That sounds good, Sunshine. Thank you. I’ll be in in just a minute. I need to ask Roth something.”
“All right, sweetheart. Oh, it’s so good to have you home.”
She left the shed, the dogs following her as if she was the pied piper of the canine set.
He watched her go, smiling at her glee. When he turned back to his father, he saw the look echoed on the older man’s face. Nice to still be madly in love after forty years together.
He hoped for that with Samantha.
The thought brought him up short. He hadn’t wanted to admit to himself that after just three lovely months, all he wanted was to put a ring on her finger and call her wife. He didn’t think she’d want that, not yet, not so soon. He didn’t doubt her love, quite the opposite. She wouldn’t have gotten nearly as angry with him if she didn’t care. But he wasn’t sure if she was ready, and so he didn’t want to push the issue. Better to let it arise organically. He wanted a life of bliss with her, that he couldn’t deny. Maybe even children, if she could bear the thought of trying again. But he had a mission to execute right now, so he put thoughts of love and romance aside to speak man-to-man with his father.
“Help me, will you? This last bit is always a pain.”
Xander took his designated spot at the rear of the deer, helped guide his father’s knife. It was a stag, maybe eight point, a big fellow.
“Took him with your bow?”
Roth felt hunting with a rifle was unsportsmanlike, instead used a crossbow. He thought it evened the odds a bit.
“Yes. We’re out of season, but it was a mercy kill. His leg was broken. We saw him limping around in the forest two days ago, and I couldn’t let him suffer. And the wolves didn’t deserve an easy snack—they took three of the chickens last week.” He patted the skinned rump of the deer. “He led me on a chase, too. A fine beast. He died with honor.”
He said this with the gravest respect. Roth and Sunshine had taught Xander reverence for their fellow beings, regardless of their sentience, especially the ones that fed and clothed them.
“You in trouble?” Roth asked, finishing the skinning with three short, quick, practiced cuts.
“Not me. Not yet, anyway. Have you heard what’s been going on?”
“No. I’ve been in the woods for the past day and night, and you know how Sun is.”