The Eye of the Wolf (12 page)

Mikayla withdrew her hand and
picked up the sandwich that lay on waxed paper before her. Careful to keep her
attention focused on anything but him and his nearness, his smell of salt and
fresh air that flooded her senses, the warmth spreading through her and
tingling in her toes and fingers, Mikayla scrutinized her sandwich even though
she knew it was just an ordinary club from a local deli. She took a monstrous
bite and chewed hoping that food would satisfy the sudden craving that was in
her stomach.

Will watched her carefully as
he took his own bite of his roast beef sandwich. He wanted to know what was
going on in her mind. What was she thinking? What was she feeling? Would she
ever tell him those emotions that obviously caused her distress? Would she ever
let the wall that separated them down enough for him to step through? Or would
he forever be attempting to scale it and always sliding back down?

Will took a large swallow of
iced tea and let the roast beef be washed down. “So, tell me something about
life in America. I have visited New York and Los Angeles, but I have never seen
the rest of the country.”

Mikayla swallowed and stared
through the stones at the surf in the distance and where the sky seemed to
blend into the sea. “I’ve actually never been to either of those places.” She
smiled at him when he choked on his drink in astonishment. “Well, the U.S. is a
big place.” She shrugged. “Michigan is beautiful, regardless of the time of
year. The summer’s are hot and humid, but everything gets so green that it is
hard to not love it just for being there. Plus there is fresh sweet corn all
summer long, which is a definite plus. Then, there are the winters, which are
cold and awful.”

Mikayla turned to Will, “But
you should see it right after a good snowfall before anything has disturbed the
perfect blanket of snow. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in the
world.”

Will tipped his head to the
side and met her eyes. “It sounds like you miss it.” He didn’t say it as a
question, but a statement, as if he understood her longing for home, her home,
the home she hadn’t seen in years.

Mikayla nodded. “I do. I
haven’t lived there in three years. I haven’t seen a real snow fall in that
long. Washington gets snow, but it isn’t the same. It is never peaceful where
the only sound you hear is the creaking of a branch breaking from beneath the
weight of the ice. In Washington, you hear the sound of snow plows and cars
pushing through the snow.” She sighed heavily and crumpled up the waxed paper
into a ball. She tossed it expertly into the picnic basket. She made a faint, “Ahhhhhh”
sound and waved her empty hands in the air. The sun glinted off of her watch.
She picked up another strawberry and examined it before popping it into her
mouth. “Everyone in Washington is in such a hurry. No one takes time to
appreciate the beauty that is around them.”

“If you hate it so much, why do
you live there?” Will questioned as he threw his own waxed paper to the picnic
basket and missed. It bounced off the rim of the basket and landed on the
blanket. Mikayla smirked as he frowned.

“I didn’t say I hate it. I just
don’t really like it.” Mikayla held up her hands. “Don’t get me wrong. I love
my job. I love my students, and the freedom the university gives me, but
sometimes I miss home. I miss my family.”

Will nodded. He could
understand missing the one place you call home and the people who make it home,
even if you don’t particularly care for those people. “So, where else have you
traveled?”

Mikayla swallowed some tea.
“Well, I’ve been to the United Kingdom several times, Ireland, France, Spain,
Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Austria, Russia, and Thailand.”

Will frowned. “Thailand? There
isn’t a whole lot of medieval history happening in Thailand.”

Mikayla grinned. “Very true. My
sister and her husband lived there for a year. I went to visit them just for
the fun of it.” Her grin faded into a frown as she remembered how angry Alex
had become when she had told him she was traveling to Thailand to see Carrie
and Bob. He had been angry because she had not invited him to accompany her,
and instead, she had chosen to travel with a cousin who was also going. He had
been angry because he had known even then that she had never really loved him.
He had called her selfish for not thinking of him first, for thinking of his
wants and needs first.

Will watched the grin fade into
a frown and the crease develop between her eye brows. Her eyes were focused in
the distance, some place he couldn’t visit, nor would he ever be invited. He
wanted to question her, to probe her mind and find out about what drove her to these
moments of silence, but he knew it wasn’t his place, just as earlier in the day
it hadn’t been his place to question her about the ring that no longer rested
on her finger or the man who had given it to her. He still longed to know, but
he knew he had over-stepped some boundary somewhere when he asked her about the
man who had been in her life.

Mikayla tipped her head to the
side and narrowed her eyes. All thoughts of Alex vanished from her mind. She
was staring at what looked like a carving that had long faded back into the
rock as it battled with the rain and wind from the Mediterranean Sea.

Slowly, Mikayla stood from her
spot on the blanket and walked to the stone, it was in the second circle,
hidden behind the stones that made the circle she sat in. She was careful to
keep her eyes on the stone, to not allow it out of her sight. Once she was in
front of the stone, she knelt down and ran her hands carefully over the ancient
granite, carefully feeling the engraving that by now was so familiar.

ÀÃFbyJ

The symbols were worn away, just a hint left in the
old rock, but it was enough that Mikayla knew she had once again found
something she didn’t understand, but knew she had to remember, to study, to
treasure.

“Will!” Her voice rang through
the air, loud, clear, and urgent. It was urgent enough that he jumped from his
place in the grass where he had been reclining, watching her with interest, and
significantly enjoying the view though curiously wondering if she had gone
slightly mad.

He crouched down beside her and
ran his hand over the stone where she guided it. Her hands were warm and
welcoming; the stone was cool and rough. At first, he felt nothing but the
stone, then, as if by magic, he felt the ancient lettering, the language of his
forbearers coming through to his fingertips. Will’s eyes widened as recognition
dawned. He had seen this pattern before. He knew these letters. Excitement
bubbled within him making his deep eyes bright, but his voice and hands
remained calm.

“Will, do you have any paper or
anything with you? I can make a rubbing of this. I think it’s pretty
important.” Mikayla tossed her hair over her shoulder and bent closer to the
stone. “It seems like I have seen this before, but I don’t know where.”

Will stood from where he
crouched and made his way to the Jeep. From the glove compartment, he withdrew
a small notepad he usually used to keep track of the gas mileage and a pencil
that had broken in half. He handed them to Mikayla who carefully placed the
paper over the carving and began dragging the pencil over the paper like an
excited three year old whose only goal was to make the largest crayon coloring
in the world. 

Will could hear her muttering
to herself, but he couldn’t make out the words. He knew what the carving said.
He had searched his entire life for that marker, for that message from the
ancient kings of Amor. To think, it had been there in front of him his entire
life, carved into one of the stones that were his best friends. He shook his
head and pulled out his camera from the bag in the grass at his feet.

He attached the appropriate
lens for the sunlight that was dipping slowly beneath the horizon, an orange
ball of fire that seemed to fill the entire sky with flames. Although he had
done so a million times before in his life, he stepped to the edge of the
cliff, beyond the sacred stones, and snapped several photoes of his beloved
home as the sun began to fall into the water, turning the sky from brilliant
blue to a velvety purple.

Will sighed. He loved his home.
He would never be able to deny his love for Amor. But he also knew he hated his
home. It was a noose that threatened to strangle him. It required so much of
him, yet it never returned his devotion. It was a bitter place, filled with
false people who were constantly looking for a new way to strangle the life
from him. He had escaped at the age of 14, but now, as he grew older, he knew
there was no longer a chance for escape. His duty and his destiny had drawn him
back, and now, here he would forever stay, until he was old and gray and beyond
the chance of adventure.

Will smiled a grim smile and
snapped one more picture of the Secluded City before the sun ceased to shine on
its ramparts. Then, he turned to see the most magnificent sight he had ever
beheld in his life.

Mikayla.

 She was bent over the
stone, still making her tracing of the letters, letters he could have
translated and written down for her if he had wanted to, letters he knew by
heart. Letters that were imprinted on his life.

The fading sun shot flame
through her auburn hair that was tucked behind her ears. Her brow was furrowed
in concentration as her quick and clever fingers made fast work of the tracings
she was trying to complete before the day died on her. Whatever melancholiness
had settled over her before was gone now, disappeared with the idea of a new
task, a new puzzle to solve.

Will grinned and changed the
filter on his camera. He squatted down behind one of the stouter stones and
angled the shot around the stone. As she worked, he snapped her picture,
capturing for eternity beauty that was undiscovered, unblemished, like nature
itself. He knew she was speaking to him, but he was lost in the splendor he had
discovered to pay any heed to what she was saying.

Mikayla glanced up finally from
her diligent work only when Will failed to answer her question that she had
asked three times. The obnoxious comment that had formed died on her lips as
she gazed into the camera lens that was braced in his tan, strong hands. His
hair blew around on the top of his head in the faint breeze. His finger pressed
the shutter several times in rapid succession before he changed the angle of
the camera and adjusted the speed. Again, he snapped several photos before
Mikayla recovered her voice, though her throat was incredibly dry.

“What are you doing?”

Will lowered the camera
slightly so he could look over it into her eyes. Fear and astonishment danced
in her eyes. He smiled before raising the camera again to snap another photo.
“I’m taking your picture.”

Will lowered the camera again
and began to manually rewind the film. He knew Mikayla was watching him, not
moving, unsure of herself and of him. “I am a photographer. It is what I do for
a living.”

Mikayla straightened from where
she had been squatting for what seemed an eternity by the cramping in her legs.
She folded the pieces of paper and tucked them carefully into a pocket of her
knaki shorts. “I know you are a photographer. Why were you taking my picture?”
She didn’t look at him, but instead picked up her iced tea to sip, hoping to
wet the throat that was so dry.

Will watched her walk across
the grass as he loaded another roll of film into the camera. He smiled at her
smooth, fluid movements. Even when she was nervous, she was still refined. He
raised his voice so she could hear him clearly. “I take pictures of beautiful
things.” When she turned, her hand at her throat, Will straightened from where
he had been crouching. He focused the camera again and brought just her face
into focus. Softly, he murmured, “You are beautiful.” The shutter clicked.

Mikayla’s eyes dropped from his
face to the cup she held in her hand. A faint blush spread from her cheeks to
her ears turning them bright pink in the fading red light from the sun. She
didn’t move; she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Men had often told
her she was beautiful, but no one had ever made her feel like she was
beautiful, and at that moment, she felt it. A small smile tweaked at her lips,
curving them slightly. Why was it that Will was capable of making her feel things
that were new and confusing when she had gone 28 years without feeling them and
had not missed them in any way. And now, now that she had felt these things,
did she think she would miss them when she went away.

Will snapped several more
pictures before lowering the camera. He had spent the last six years looking
for the perfect subject to be in his camera lens. He had traveled the entire
world looking for one thing that would make his heart beat faster when he
focused it between the lines. Never had he found anything that was nearly as
perfect as Mikayla was at that precise moment, her long hair curling carelessly
around her. Her slender fingers wrapped protectively around the cup as if it
were her salvation. Her slender shoulders beckoning from beneath the tank-top
for a lover’s hands to stroke them in desire. Her blue eyes reflected an inner
turmoil that matched his own, a need he was only beginning to recognize as her.
But her smile was sweet, warm, pure with just a hint of mystery. A modern Mona Lisa.
She fit inside the view finder of his camera. It seemed as if he had spent his
entire life looking for her, the perfect subject.