Regan Wolfrom - Coyote

Once we were inside, I raised Matt on the handheld to tell him we were home. Then Kayla and I sat down in the middle of the road, exhausted.

Justin pulled up fifteen minutes later in his car. He acted surprised to see the C12 hanging from my shoulder, but he didn’t ask about it.

I guess Kayla was probably right; it hadn’t been much of a secret for quite a while now.

Today is Saturday, January 19th.

I noticed I was getting a signal on the phone this morning. I tried calling Alain but the phone didn’t ring.

That could mean so many different things.

Justin didn’t have anything to report on the day and a half that we were away. I half-jokingly said that I was surprised he didn’t crown himself king, and he replied that he was giving me up until Sunday night before he assumed I wasn’t coming back. There was no joking on his end.

Kayla spent most of the day in a rage, since Matt didn’t bother to do a single thing for the goats or chickens while we were away. I think she should have been happy; Matt touching your livestock is a great way to lose your livestock. Even an old hen can fend for itself for a day or two.

That night Matt called on the handheld to let us know that he was just going to stay at the Porters; I didn’t want to ask if he’d left our cottage empty last night, too.

He had no problem wasting twenty hours a week on that stupid firebreak, but actually taking responsibility for something that mattered?

Not his style.

So it was just Kayla and I in that big house; I didn’t mind.

I made us some raspberry tea and took it upstairs to her.

She was sitting on the bed. She’d changed, but not into her pajamas. Or even into something more… inviting… she was dressed in a tight black t-shirt. And just her panties.

“Thank you for the tea,” she said as she cupped one of the mugs in her hands. “I’ve had a chill all day.”

“Today you’ve had a chill? Not yesterday when we spent half the day outside in minus twenty-five?”

“Today I’m allowed to feel it.” She smiled. “I’m so glad to be home, Baptiste.”

“I wish we’d brought Lisa and Graham back with us.”

“I know… but let’s leave that alone for now. I… I want to try something different with you.”

“Okay…”

“It’s a little… different…”

“You said that part.”

She reached down beside the bed. I couldn’t see what she was reaching for.

“I have a fantasy,” she said.

She put her pink scarf on the bed.

She reached back down and brought up a length of blue and white rope.

I think it was the same rope we’d used on Elodie.

“I want you to tie me up just like you did her,” she said.

“What?”

“Pretend I’m her… pretend you need to restrain me… that you need to gag me with that scarf so I don’t scream for help.”

“I don’t think I’m comfortable with this.”

“ S’il vous plaite … please don’t tie me up…”

There was something about the way she was looking at me. That fake pleading in your eyes that was close to making me laugh.

It was pretty damn sexy.

I guess knowing that I could make it happen for her… knowing that she wanted something that only I could give her…

I pushed her down on her stomach.

I tied her wrists.

I brought up her ankles.

I tied her arms and legs together.

“The scarf,” she said, almost breathless.

I picked up her pink scarf. The same one that I’d stuffed so violently in Elodie’s mouth.

The knot was still tied. Kayla hadn’t done anything to clean it.

I forced it into her mouth and tied it around her head.

I heard her moan.

I sat back and watched her struggle.

She tried to say something; I couldn’t quite understand.

She tried again.

“Touch you?”

She nodded.

I slowly lifted her tight black t-shirt.

I ran a couple of my fingers along her side, giving her a light tickle right down her hips.

Her body jerked. She moaned again.

I moved my fingers between her legs, gently nudging her onto her side.

I brought my head down and kissed her just above the place where I had my fingers.

I kissed her some more.

Kayla had never climaxed that quickly before.

Her entire body buckled, like a series of jolts were rushing through her.

She tried to say something else.

I took a guess.

I untied her ankles and spread her legs apart.

And then I took her.

It was the best sex we’d ever had.

It was the best sex I’d ever had.

So far.

Afterward I was about to take out the scarf, but she shook her head.

“Leave it in?” I asked.

She nodded.

I wrapped my arms around her.

And I told her that I loved her.

Today is Sunday, January 20th.

I told Matt that it was time to come home, that he was starting to get creepy with his new life as Justin’s shadow.

He didn’t argue; I think maybe he had a feeling that if he kept at it, Justin might tell him the same thing. I’m not sure Matt could survive that shame.

It was warm today, warm enough that I had no qualms about helping Kayla with the outside chores, and I even split a little firewood with Matt as a sign that I was glad to have him back. I didn’t mean it, but I did it anyway.

Fiona dropped by in the afternoon to invite herself over for dinner. Sometimes I wonder if she’s as frightened of Gwyneth as Gwyneth is of me. I don’t think Fiona can even imagine living in fear that way, no matter what she’s seen over the years; there’s just too much sunlight in Fiona. That’s why I miss her so much these days.

The four of us sat down for dinner around the pinewood table, bunched on one side and leaving the other half to four empty chairs.

We did that thing people do when they’re trying too hard to not be sad, laughing at jokes that aren’t funny and being freakishly kind to one another.

I know we all miss them. Not just Ant and Sara, but Lisa and Graham, no matter how they left.

Tonight is the first night in over twenty years that I’ve come close to praying.

I came close, but I couldn’t make it all the way.

I just hope they made it through.

I can’t imagine how they could have.

Today is Monday, January 21st.

We couldn’t smell the smoke from our end of the lake. We didn’t hear a sound as the last cottage along Nelson Road burnt to the ground.

We didn’t know what happened until Justin Porter came to our door and woke us up, yelling my name.

“I can’t reach them,” he said. “I need help.”

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I can’t reach them… help me, Baptiste.”

“Okay.”

I followed him as he ran through the snow. He was only wearing one shoe. He tripped more than once.