Page 79 of Whispers and Wildfire

I’d met Nathan, Sharla, and the kids at Lumberjack Park so the small humans could run around and play. Sharla had packed a picnic, complete with a red-and-white-checked tablecloth that we’d spread out on one of the tables near the play equipment. The pickles were my contribution, although I was probably the only one who’d eat them.

A group of squirrels ran by, their bushy tails streaming behind them. One stopped and looked at me.

“Don’t even think about it, tiny mammal,” I said. “You’re not getting my pickles.”

The squirrel scampered off, following its friends. A second later, a man with a wide-brimmed brown hat and shaggy beard wandered by, looking as if he’d lost something.

“Hi, Harvey,” Sharla said. “Is everything all right?”

He turned around, blinking. “Have you seen them?”

“Seen who?” she asked.

“My friends.”

“Um… are your friends squirrels?”

He grinned at her. “That’s them!”

She pointed. “They went that way.”

Tipping his hat, he gave her an awkward bow. “Thank you, kindly.”

He kept walking, still looking lost.

“Was that Harvey Johnston?” I asked. “He’s still around?”

“Where else would he be?” Sharla asked.

“Tilikum is so charming,” I said, and I meant it. “Why did I ever leave?”

“College. Dreams of stardom.”

“I didn’t really want stardom. I know, that’s surprising. A drama queen like me obviously wanted to be famous. But I didn’t.”

“Then why did you leave?” Sharla asked, her voice gentle.

I didn’t really want to answer that question because I had a feeling it had a lot to do with running. Glancing away, I adjusted my sunglasses against the brightness of the sun and took a bite of my pickle.

“That’s disgusting.” Nathan sat across the table from me.

“Don’t mess with me. This is my emotional support pickle.”

Sharla laughed. “Why do you need an emotional support pickle?”

“I got dumped last night. To be fair, I was going to dump him anyway. And I mean that. I’m not just trying to save face.”

“Sure,” Nathan said.

Sharla nudged him with her elbow. “Be nice.”

“Sorry. I have years of sibling trash talk to make up for.”

“It’s only fair,” I agreed, gesturing with my half-eaten pickle. “I’m the one who was gone so much.”

“You two are so weird,” Sharla said. “Anyway, you were going to dump him, but he dumped you first. Wait, who is this guy?”

“Hank. Mom introduced us at the pizza tasting. Which is to say, she invited him with the express purpose of shoving us together and probably already has a mother-of-the-bride dress picked out.”

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