Jodi Picoult - Lone Wolf

She bites the cuticle on her thumb. “When Edward first left? You used to come into my room when I was asleep and curl up behind me. You thought I was asleep and didn’t know, but I did,” Cara says. “I used to wish on every star and every stray eyelash that he would stay where he was, so you’d keep doing it. It was just the two of us, and then one day, it wasn’t anymore.” She swallows. “First Edward was gone, and the next minute you were gone. So for the longest time, it’s just been Dad and me.”

Cara may think I don’t love her as much as I do her brother, but parents aren’t the only ones who play favorites. Both Cara and Edward, they loved Luke best. How could they not, when he was the one who took them orienteering in the woods and showed them what kind of clover is edible and who put wolf puppies into their laps to chew on their sleeves. Me, I was the one who told them to clean up their rooms and eat their broccoli.

I want to reach out to Cara, but the wall she’s put between us is invisible and thick and strong. “Do you know when I found out I was pregnant with you I burst into tears?”

Cara’s jaw drops, as if she expected an admission like this but never thought I’d have the guts to say it out loud.

“I didn’t think I could possibly love another baby as much as I loved the one I’d already had,” I continue. “But the strangest thing happened when I held you for the first time. It was like my heart suddenly unfolded. Like there was this secret space I didn’t even know existed, and there was room for both of you.” I stare at her. “Once my feelings were stretched like that, there was no going back. Without you, it just would have felt empty.”

Cara leans forward, her hair obscuring her face. “It doesn’t always feel that way on the receiving end.”

“I didn’t choose Edward over you,” I say. “I choose you both. Which is why I’m giving this to you.” I hand her the legal papers. “On Thursday a court’s going to appoint a permanent guardian for your father.”

Cara’s eyes widen. “And whoever they pick is the one the hospital has to listen to?”

“Yes,” I say.

“And your name is on the papers because you’re my legal guardian.”

“I assume so. And I assume that Edward’s gotten the same set of papers.”

She gets up so fast the chair spins backward. “They have to pick you,” she says. “You need to get a lawyer…”

Immediately I hold up my hand. “Cara, there’s no way I’m getting involved in your father’s life again.” Or his death, I think.

“It’s just for three months, until I turn eighteen,” she begs. “All you have to do is say what I say, and the doctors will listen. And who knows, by then, Dad could even be recuperating.”

“I know how much you love him, honey, but this is outside my comfort zone. Your father is a roller coaster, and I can’t handle that ride again.”

“You don’t understand,” Cara says. “I can’t lose him.”

“Actually, I do understand,” I tell her softly. “There was a time when I felt the same way. There’s no one else in this world like your father. But I had to remind myself that he wasn’t the same man I’d fallen for, anymore. That he’d made some bad choices.”

Cara glances up, dry-eyed, determined. “He didn’t choose this, ” she answers. “Maybe he left you, Mom, but he would never, ever leave me.”

Her words take me back. I am pregnant with Cara, and Luke sleeps with his arms around me. An alpha female can have a phantom pregnancy, he tells me.

I’m pretty sure this one’s real, I tell him, turning slightly in the hope I can find a comfortable position for my bulk. I can’t imagine wanting to fake this.

It puts every other wolf on his best behavior. They’re busy advertising themselves as potential nannies, or proving to the alpha that they’re still good at protecting the pack or diffusing the pack or whatever their jobs are that will make those pups safe and sound. And then, at the very end of it, when the alpha’s got everyone acting just the way she wants, she turns off the hormones that have been in her urine and her scent and says, Gotcha.

That’s pretty impressive, I say.

He cups his hands over my belly. You don’t know the half of it. Four or five months before she even comes into season, an alpha female knows the number of pups she is going to have, their gender, and if they’ll stay in her pack or be dispersed to form a new one, he says.

I laugh. I’d settle for knowing whether to buy blue or pink clothes.

It’s amazing, he whispers. These babies are part of the family before they even are conceived.

Now, I realize Cara is right. Luke may have been a singularly selfish, lousy husband, but he loved his children. He showed it the only way he knew how: by bringing them into the world he couldn’t live without. For Edward, that turned out to be a clash. For Cara, it was a delight.

I had defended Edward when he needed an advocate; I would do no less for Cara. I can’t be the guardian she wants me to be for her father, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help her. Resolved, I stand up. “Meet me in the car. We’ll have to take the twins with us, but they might fall asleep on the way…”

“Where are we going?” Cara asks.

“To track down Danny Boyle,” I tell her. “He’s going to find you a lawyer.”

The county attorney is not in his office, but as it turns out, old reporters don’t die-they just arrange playdates instead of secret meetings with sources, and wear homemade Play-Doh instead of pencil skirts. It only takes one call to a former colleague to find out that Boyle’s holding a press conference in the Beresford Grange Hall. An attempted murder charge in a small New England town-even a revoked one-is enough to merit a top story, and the county attorney isn’t one to let a golden opportunity pass him by.

By the time Cara and I arrive, the press conference is in full swing. The twins have fallen asleep in the car, and we’re each holding one, a damp, warm weight. Among the reporters and television crews we stick out, so even though we hover at the lacy edge of the crowd, I’m not surprised when I see Boyle’s eyes light on Cara, and he pauses just the slightest bit during his speech.

“I consider myself a champion of justice,” he says. “Which is why I will do whatever it takes to always make sure justice doesn’t get out of hand. We will not become a litigious society with trumped-up charges based on false evidence, if I have any say.”

It’s curious that he doesn’t mention that he is the one who let the charges get out of hand in the first place.

“What about the wolf guy in the hospital?” some reporter calls out, and beside me, I feel Cara flinch.

“Our thoughts and prayers continue to be with him and his family,” Boyle says soberly, and then he holds up a hand. “Sorry, folks, no more questions today.”

He pushes his way through the crowd until he reaches Cara, and grasps her upper arm. “What are you doing here?” he hisses.

“You owe me,” she says, lifting her chin.

Boyle looks around to see if anyone’s listening and then drags Cara into the Grange’s community kitchen. I follow them, clutching Jackson as he sleeps against my shoulder. “I owe you?” Boyle says, incredulous. “I ought to be putting you in jail.” He frowns, noticing me. “Who’s this?”

“My mom,” Cara says.

This makes Boyle tone down his attitude a little. After all, I’m a voter. “If I didn’t firmly believe that your whole scheme was a result of you being overwrought by your father’s condition, I would have indicted you myself. I don’t owe you anything; I’m cutting you a colossal break.”