Page 84 of Life and Death

“Grizzly is Eleanor’s favorite.” Her voice was still offhand, but her eyes were scrutinizing my reaction. I tried to pull myself together.

“Hmmm,” I said, taking another bite of pizza as an excuse to look down. I chewed slowly, then swallowed.

“So,” I said after a moment. “What’s your favorite?”

She raised an eyebrow and the corners of her mouth turned down like she didn’t approve of my question. “Mountain lion.”

“Sure, that makes sense.” I nodded, like she’d just said something totally normal.

“Of course”—her tone mirrored mine, nothing out of the ordinary—“we have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators—ranging as far away as we need. There are always plenty of deer and elk here, and they’ll do, but where’s the fun in that?”

She smiled.

“So not fun,” I murmured around another bite of pizza.

“Early spring is El’s favorite bear season—they’re just coming out of hibernation, so they’re more irritable.” She smiled at some remembered joke.

“Nothing better than an irritated grizzly bear,” I agreed, nodding.

She laughed, then shook her head. “Tell me what you’re really thinking, please.”

“I’m trying to picture it—but I can’t,” I admitted. “How do you hunt a bear without weapons?”

“Oh, we have weapons.” She flashed her bright teeth with a wide grin that wasn’t really asmile. “Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you’ve ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Eleanor hunting.”

I glanced across the cafeteria toward Eleanor, grateful that she wasn’t looking my way. The long, smooth lines of muscle that ran down her arms and legs were suddenly much more than intimidating. I pictured her gripping under the edge of a mountain, then lifting . . .

Edythe followed my gaze and chuckled. I stared back at her, unnerved.

“Is it dangerous?” I asked in a low voice. “Do you ever get hurt?”

Her laughter pealed like a bell. “Oh, Beau. About as dangerous as your slice.”

I looked at the pizza crust and said, “Yikes. So . . . are you . . . like a bear attack?”

“More like the lion, or so they tell me,” she said lightly. “Perhaps our preferences are indicative.”

“Perhaps,” I repeated. I tried to smile, but my mind was struggling to fit the paradoxical images together, and failing. “Is that something I might get to see?”

“Never!” she whispered. Her face turned even whiter than usual, and her eyes were suddenly horrified. She pulled her hand gently from mine and wrapped her arms tightly around her body.

My hand lay there empty on the table, numb from the cold.

“What did I say?” I asked.

She closed her eyes for a moment, regaining control. When she met my stare at last, she looked angry. “I almost wish it were possible. You don’t seem to understand the realities present. It might be beneficial for you to see exactly how dangerous I actually am.”

“Okay, then, why not?” I pressed, trying to ignore her hard expression.

She glared at me for a long minute.

“Later,” she finally said. She was on her feet in one lithe movement. “We’re going to be late.”

I glanced around, startled to see that she was right and the cafeteria was nearly vacant. When I was with her, the time and the place were such minor details that I completely lost track of both. I jumped up, grabbing our bags from the floor.

“Later, then,” I agreed. I wouldn’t forget.

11. COMPLICATIONS