The Song Of The Wolf (Edited & Rewritten)

Chapter Fourteen, Part One

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The distant hum was nearly imperceptible at first, its low-frequency vibration gradually inching its way into earshot. The growling grew louder and revved as it approached her driveway. Maebh stole a glance at the oven, at the digital numbers displayed there. Half past twelve.

'Took you long enough,' she said as Coinín entered through the kitchen door, carrying two bulging bags of groceries and setting them atop the counter.

'Sorry, I had to cover Maggie's shift at the store, she's not feeling well. No pain today?'

'Nope, fit as a fiddle,' Maebh said, her attention now focused on extracting ingredients from the crinkled paper bags. 'I'll make some broth for you to take home to Mags after our talk.'

Coinín let out a groan. 'Shit, that's today?'

'Not at the top of your priority list, is it?' She gave him a sharp look.

'I didn't mean to insinuate that, it's just—' he removed his shoes and wiped the snowy track marks he'd left on the floor before she could comment on them. 'It's just that—'

'If you postpone again, don't bother coming back.'

'I won't, but I have to drop the motorbike at home before picking up Logan from school,' he said, gathering the wayward carrot peels and onions skins and disposing of them in the bin, mindful not to disturb Maebh as she hunched over the cutting board, her hands deftly cutting the fat from the chicken to grease the pot with. Coinín toyed with a dish towel, folding and unfolding, watching her chop the chicken in chunks with more force than necessary. He wondered if he should offer more assistance, afraid his hovering would only lead to more friction.

'We'll sit down after I finish up,' Maebh said, and he took that as his cue to busy himself elsewhere.

Maebh had become a recluse since returning home a week ago, stuck in an unceasing cycle of distracting herself. Coinín had forced her back into the same boat with him, his excuses keeping her from tossing him overboard. It began with him insisting on repairing her front door, which he had kicked in to help during her pain episode. With losing his job came a wealth of spare time that he divided between his family, managing Lowell's, and Maebh. To regain her good graces, he had been doing her favours and running her errands. He found himself walking a tightrope, with her desire for answers hanging over him like the blade of a guillotine. Her patience was wearing thin, cutting the rope.

Starting from the morning of her abduction, his wife had bombarded Maebh with calls and texts, urging her to return her messages. One day of buzzing notifications was all it took for Maebh to relent.

Maggie was well-versed in the fate foreshadowed by her friend's eye colour, but she had no idea about her husband's intentions to hand her over to his superiors, not until it was too late. Their first two weeks as parents had crawled by. Try as she might, Maggie could not overlook the contrast between her husband's tenderness toward their son and his cruelty toward the woman who had helped bring him into the world.

Yet, amidst the strain in her relationship with him, there was a silver lining. It had spurred a faster rekindling of her friendship with Maebh, who had divulged all the details of what had transpired, extracting a promise from Maggie not to breathe a word to Coinín until he fulfilled his end of the deal. Answers.

Maebh picked at the skin around her cuticles, she and Coinín sitting at opposite ends of the sofa as she provided him with the context of what she did and did not already know.