The Alpha's Daughter (30 page)

Jazz laughed. It all made sense, now; poor
Tommyboy getting in trouble for taking Miz Ezzy's boys fishing, the
Alpha threatening Roger with picking up leavings. Holy shit! Miz
Ezzy raised worms. The financial wheels began to turn in Jazz's
brain.

"What does she do with the castings?"

"The what?"

"The worm shit. What does Ezzy do with the
worm shit?"

Donna looked at Jazz as if she might be as
crazy as Miz Ezzy. "How would I know? I save my scrap for her same
as everybody else, but I can't say I go visiting regularly."

"She dumps the boxes out behind the barn
after she sifts out all her boys," Ellie said. "There's a pile back
there a million feet high." She laughed at the looks the two women
gave her. "I made Tommyboy go up there and help her out after he
stole those worms for fishing."

"Good God, Ellie! You told him not to eat
anything while he was up there, didn't you? Don't ever eat what
Ezzy offers. Stuff it in your pocket if you have to, but don't eat
it, no matter how good it looks. The woman only washes four times a
year and I'll bet her dishes don't get washed that often."

"Oh, Donna, she's not that bad."

The sisters looked to Jazz.

"She is a little eccentric," Jazz said
diplomatically. The woman was filthy.

She also might be the key to the economic
recovery Gilead so desperately needed. Jazz remembered a customer
in the bike shop complaining that his old lady paid good money for
worm shit. Everybody in the shop laughed, but Jazz was curious and
she used Roscoe's computer to look it up. Sure enough, there were
gardeners out there who'd pay 'good money' for worm shit, only they
called it castings.

Jazz made plans to visit Miz Ezzy and find
out what she could about raising worms. She smiled to herself
wondering what Griz would say to replacing their backyard pig sty
with a worm farm.

Miz Mary was right. Jazz had been hiding
behind not only the makeup, but the clothes and partying and yes,
the fighting. It wasn't just a bid for her father's attention. She
was hiding from the absolute boredom of her existence. Nothing she
did back there counted for anything. All she was good for was being
an Alpha's Mate. Every day in Gilead brought new ideas to try, new
things to learn. Gilead was filling a need in her she hadn't known
was there.

She needed to add Eugene Begley to her list
of thank yous. If it weren't for him, she never would have found
this place. Hooking up with Griz was great, but being here in
Gilead made it better.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't like the world
was suddenly blessed with peace and prosperity. Not even the little
village of Gilead could claim that, but things did look as if they
might be improving. As spring marched toward summer, Jazz couldn't
have been happier. Life was good.

But like the man said, all good things must
come to an end.

Betty Gruber, who Edith claimed was healthy as a horse, lost
her baby that Wednesday afternoon. When the call came, Jazz was
expecting another case like the Dawson's. Yes, there was trouble,
but Griz would be there with his magic hands to save the
day.

They arrived within five minutes of getting
the call and when Jazz entered the bedroom with a businesslike
Griz, no one looked askance. Betty's sister, Joan, who was sitting
by the bedside holding Betty's hand, stood up when they
entered.

"Everything will be fine, Betty. Doc's here
now," she assured her sister. She bent and kissed the woman's sweat
soaked head. "John and I will be right outside. Doc needs room to
work."

"I don't know what to do for her," she
whispered to Jazz as she passed.

Except for a short nod of greeting when they
arrived, Griz was silent as he went to work. He lifted the covers
and checked the laboring mother's progress and frowned. He left the
room long enough to scrub his hands, returned and leaned over to
speak quietly in Betty's ear.

"It's almost time, Betty. We'll do this
together and John will be there to see it through."

An hour later, he delivered the infant and
handed it to the waiting Jazz and this time she was prepared to
wipe away the blood and fluid and clear the baby's mouth.

She wasn't prepared for the tiny lifeless
body he handed to her. She'd assumed, like Sandy, Betty was close
to full term. She'd assumed, like the infant David, this baby girl
would be fine and next month she would watch the pup's Naming and
feel her heart swell with emotion because she was there at the
birth.

Perfectly formed, this tiny infant weighed no
more than a few pounds. Jazz carefully wrapped the tiny creature,
leaving her face exposed as if the poor thing still needed to draw
breath.

"Take her away," Griz ordered and Jazz
started to obey, but the anguished cry of the mother had her
turning back to the bed.

Griz bent to speak quietly to the mother.
"You'll have another, Betty, I promise," he tried to reassure
her.

Jazz knew instinctively that this was not
what Betty needed to hear. She might have another pup, but it would
not replace this precious little girl.

"She's beautiful, Betty, the most beautiful
baby girl I've ever seen," Jazz told her, "Let me clean her up and
show her to her Daddy and your sister and then I'll send her back
to you. I promise. Let Doc take care of you and then you can hold
her for as long as you need to. No one's going to take her away
until you're ready. I won't let them," she added, prepared to fight
even Griz if he disagreed.

Betty's cries subsided to quiet sobs. Her
mate gave Jazz a stoic nod, but turned away from the sight of the
bundle she carried. Joan wept soft tears at the sight, but it was
Miz Mary's reaction that frightened Jazz.

The old woman had come as soon as she'd
heard. Jazz knew a Mate should feel the emotions of her pack, but
Margie, her father's Mate, had shown little reaction to the
troubles in her packmates lives, maybe because she had enough
troubles of her own, or maybe because she'd been forced into a
position she didn't want to hold.

Jazz was therefore shocked at the sight of
Miz Mary leaning against the wall with her hand to her chest, her
face ashen, her eyes filled with grief. This wasn't the strong,
practical woman she knew. This woman was old and fragile and
weak.

"Not another, Oh God, not another," Miz Mary
whispered and reached out a wavering hand for support.

Holding the pup with one arm, Jazz circled
the Mate's waist with the other and led her to the kitchen. The old
woman was shaking and looked ready to collapse. Her worry for the
Alpha's failing health was taking its toll and this new tragedy was
yet another blow for a woman already overburdened.

A man Jazz had met, but didn't really know
sat at the kitchen table with an untouched mug of coffee on the
placemat in front of him. He looked like he wanted to be any place
but there and Jazz took advantage of that look.

"I need your help," Jazz said to him. "The
Mate needs to go home," and when Mary's head began to shake, "No,
Miz Mary, you need to rest. Let me carry the burden just this once.
Murph…" she remembered Griz calling him that, "Murph here will take
you home. I have things to do here and I can't take care of Betty
and worry about you, too. You understand." She knew the Mate would
always place a packmate's needs above her own.

"Just let me hold her for a moment before I
go," Miz Mary pleaded and when she had the baby in her arms, she
kissed it tenderly and whispered, "Daughter of my pack, go in
peace. Someday we'll run together in Heaven."

When she'd returned the pup to Jazz's arms,
her hand lingered, caressing the tiny face. "I'm going home because
I know I'm leaving you all in good hands." She looked up at Jazz
with a sad smile. "Take care of them, Jasmine, and thank you."

Jazz felt a chill run up her spine at the
Mate's words, but she could only worry about one thing at a time.
She had work to do here.

She bathed the baby and swaddled her in a
pretty pink blanket someone had left on the counter. When Griz was
finished attending to the mother, Jazz carefully laid the infant in
the father's arms.

"Take her in to your mate," she said gently.
"Keep her as long as you need to say your goodbyes."

She wasn't sure if every woman would feel the
same, but Jazz somehow knew that Betty needed to hold her baby once
before she could truly say farewell and Jazz wanted the memory of
that baby to be as clean and fresh scented as if she lived.

That evening, they buried the infant in the
cemetery behind the ramshackle building that once housed the
village church. The whole pack attended and it was evident they
shared the parent's grief. A loss for one was a loss for all.

Women sobbed and men wiped away tears.
Everyone wanted to lay a hand on the tiny bundle, a last caress, to
wish her farewell.

While the Alpha spoke a few words over the
tiny grave, Jazz felt her heart fill with a strange mixture of
sorrow and bittersweet joy. In that time of shared mourning, Jazz
finally felt what it meant to be a wolver and a member of a
pack.

Their lovemaking that night was soft and
gentle as she and Griz shared something greater than the pleasure
of sex. While Griz had stood strong before the others, Jazz knew he
was tearing himself up inside at his inability to solve the mystery
of the pack's failure to thrive. Each infant's death was proof of
his failure as their doctor.

She knew he would accept no comfort from her
words so she offered what comfort she could from her body and took
comfort from his embrace as well. Afterwards, as they lay quietly
together, Griz offered his praise and it was worth more to her than
rubies.

"You're a constant wonder to me, Jasmine
Phillips," he whispered as he stroked her hair. "One minute you're
Hellcat, the next Baby Bunny, but today, you were something else
entirely. You were strong and soft, capable and comforting. You
seem to know what people feel and need to hear. You're better with
people than I am. You know what to say and I'm glad you were
there."

"I didn't know what I was doing, Griz. I just
went with what I thought best," she confessed and because she was
uncomfortable with his compliments, she brought up the thing that
had bothered her all day. "Miz Mary wasn't looking too good today.
All I could think was the pack didn't need that on top of
everything else. She's worried about Leonard."

"She has good reason to be," Griz said and he
tightened his arm around her. "The Alpha is dying. He knows it and
so does she."

"Oh Griz, can't you do something?" Jazz asked
and immediately regretted the question. "I'm sorry. That was
stupid. If you could do something you would."

"I'm not so sure I would." Griz rolled to his
back and stared at the ceiling. "The Alpha is old and weak. In any
other pack, he would have stepped aside or been challenged for the
mantle. He's refused to step aside because he couldn't see anyone
suitable to take his place."

"Roger Wilson wants to be the Alpha," Jazz
offered.

"And look how you cringe when you say those
words. Roger has some support, but not enough. He wouldn't last six
months before there was a Challenge. What'll be worse than losing
Roger, who in spite of being a pain in the ass, really does
contribute to the pack, is if the challenger does it only to get
rid of Roger instead of having something better to offer."

Jazz wasn't at all fond of Roger, but she
wouldn't want to see him killed and that's what a Challenge for the
mantle would be; a fight to the death.

"Of course, things might be different if he
took you for his Mate." Griz said it as quietly and casually as
he'd said everything else.

Jazz should have responded with some
smart-assed remark, but none came to mind. Griz's comment was a
reminder of the very thing she tried to ignore. Since her father's
unexpected appearance, everyone in Gilead, including Griz, knew she
was an Alpha's Mate. Was this his way of hinting that she could
save Roger and keep the pack from unnecessary turmoil?

"Are you saying I should consider it?" she
asked just as quietly and casually.

"That," he answered, "Is entirely up to
you."

Which told Jazz nothing at all.

Two days later, their midnight bath was
interrupted by a pounding on the door.

Her sneaky bear would take his baths in the
middle of the night after Gilead and Jazz were asleep. She'd
learned his secret the same night they began sharing the upstairs
bed. Missing him, she'd come downstairs to playfully scold him for
working and leaving her alone. If he couldn't sleep, she could
think of better ways to spend the time.

Gris wasn't at his desk in the study or in
the office. He was on the back porch in the big tin tub, scrubbing
his back with a stiff bristled brush.

"Give me that before you tear the hide off
yourself." She began soaping the cloth.

"I've been bathing myself without injury for
quite some time," he told her as she began to wash is back and neck
with the soapy cloth. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his
neck obviously enjoying her attention, but still he said, "You
don't have to do this, you know."

She moved to the side of the tub and, adding
more soap to the cloth, began to wash his chest.

"Name one thing I do that I don't want to
do," she said with a pretended huff.

"Use the outhouse after dark," he said
without even taking a moment to think.

"That doesn't count," she laughed. "Name
something else. You can't, can you, because I never do anything I
don't want to do and I've never wanted to do this for a guy before.
So shut up and enjoy it, Papa Bear." The soapy cloth moved
lower.