The Porch Wolf Ch. 01-10

"That's an understatement. My head hasn't spun like this since I found out I was pregnant."

"I can only imagine. There are a few things I'd like to ask of you and Vicki."

She looked back at her girl, then at me as I reached the road. "Like what?"

"For now, don't tell your grandmother about the werewolf thing. It's fine to say that you found out my younger brother is her father, and I'm her real uncle. That might ease her worries about why I want to be around her, and you."

"I could have told you his name, but you couldn't tell for sure without me looking at a photo of him from back then," she reasoned. "I can do that, but I can't promise Vicki will keep a secret."

"Your grandmother may not believe her if she says I turn into a big wolf. You can tell her if you must. At some point, she will need to know the truth just as I've had to tell you."

"What else?"

"As I said, the more her wolf pushes forward, the stronger her scent becomes, and the more likely she is to shift. If you are taking her out in public, I would like to go with you. I can be there to scent for other wolves, and if they smell me with her, an Alpha wolf, they'll leave us alone. You're also not going to accidentally wander over a Pack boundary and cause an incident."

"She wants to do a lot, especially now," Liv said.

"I don't mind. The three of you are always welcome in my home because you are my family. I'm retired, and I don't mind having Shark Bait pull me around to look at stuff. I even have my own membership to SeaLife."

"She loved that yesterday," Liv said. "I practically had to drag her out of the tubes in the shark cove."

"It's all up to you, Liv. I would hope that you would become comfortable enough to let me watch her, maybe while you work. I need you around to help her as she learns about her wolf side." We had reached Miesville, and I turned west on Highway 61. I only had seven minutes until we got to her house to talk. "I'm sure she'll be asking you tomorrow when we can go snowmobiling again, especially since we're supposed to get a few inches overnight."

"She will want to do it all," Liv agreed. "I'm curious about a few things. You said Vicki is a werewolf because her father was, that one parent is enough. What about when she grows up? Will she have to mate a werewolf, or can she have a human life with human children?"

I tapped the steering wheel. "She could marry a human, but her children will be werewolves. You can look at is as a dominant trait, it will always come out. With her wolf, she's more likely to be attracted to other werewolves, and them to her. An Alpha Mantle female with no Pack is desirable; she could start her own Pack, or strengthen another." I paused for a second. "It's our job to make sure she grows up and gets that choice."

"That brings up the next question. Can you make me a werewolf too? If I need to do that to protect her, I will."

"Can it be done? Yes, humans can be turned. It's a prolonged, painful change, and many do not make it. No one knows why some do and some don't; it's not always the best conditioned or the ones who want it the most. I think the Moon Goddess gifts a wolf to those she wants to have one, and the others die." I looked over at her in the glow of the dash lights. "I don't want to risk your life too. I can train you in self-defense; we can get you a permit to carry a firearm, and I can teach you to shoot. I'll help you learn to protect her, Liv."

It was quiet as we drove the last mile, finally turning into her fourplex lot. I parked in the visitor's spot. "Can you bring her in," Liv asked.

"Of course." I got her out and onto my shoulder, following Liv into their home.

"Sorry we were out so late, Grandma," Liv said as she took off her boots.

"Oh, look at that girl, she's tuckered out," Natalie said as she came over. "Hand her over, I'll take her to get ready for bed. Did you kids have fun?" I kissed Vicki's forehead as I gave her over; she stirred, and I told her good night.

"We really like snowmobiling," Liv said. "Thank you, Leo, for a wonderful day. I'll call you when I'm ready to talk more about it all."

"Any time, day or night," I said. I leaned down and gave her a quick hug. "It's going to work out."

"Goodnight, Leo." I walked out, and she closed and locked the door behind me.

Driving home, it was my head that was spinning. I was totally dependent on how much trust I could build up with Natalie and Liv in a short time. Being Vicki's uncle helped explain my need to be in her life, but what if Liv couldn't trust me because of my brother? Would she think I would help him save his mating and his Pack by turning her over?

The thought of being frozen out of her life now had my wolf ready to bust out. I made it home, parking and stripping in the garage before shifting and going outside. I ran hard through the dark night, the clouds covering the moon. I ended up on our spot, looking down at the Cannon River Valley in the darkness, my head on my paws.

If I was to protect her, I needed to be ready.

I had to be strong, fast, and deadly again.

No more boozing it up.

Eat right and get my life on a regular schedule.

Work out every day, in both forms.

Improve the security of my house and land, and see what I could do for Liv's place.

Most of all, I needed to step up and be an Alpha again.

I trotted back home, shifting and going back inside. I showered and got ready for bed, thinking over how I could make this work. For a Pack to be recognized, you needed an Alpha and at least four other members. If I got the word out that I was back, I knew some would seek me out to join me, banishment, or not.

As I laid down to sleep, I vowed to build a Pack that Vicki would be proud to take over when she was of age. She would be my heir; the daughter my brother rejected, would be the daughter my mate and I prayed for.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face for the first time in years.

Ch. 10

February 2005

"Something is wrong, Leo. I have no energy, and getting more rest isn't helping. If I had the flu, it would be getting better by now," Catherine said as she walked into the kitchen.

I checked her forehead with the back of my hand; she was still running a low fever. "Sit down and try to eat some cereal while I see if I can get an appointment for you." The flu bug had hit Minnesota hard this February, and they said to bring her to urgent care because no appointments were available. I helped her get dressed, then carried her out to the truck.

We had to wait an hour to get back there. Catherine was down eight pounds from her last appointment, and her fever was 100.2 degrees. "I haven't felt right for weeks," she said.

"Any nausea? Vomiting?"

"No, but I don't feel like eating. I have had chills, and my joints ache." The nurse wrote the information on the chart, then left while we waited for the doctor. "I'm sorry, Leo. Are you missing anything at work?"

"Todd can handle the crews," I said. "I'm where I need to be." Todd Miller was my new Beta, having taken over from my younger brother Ivan when he left to mate Brenda Petersen in Marengo Lakes. He also took over as foreman for Volkov Construction, the company I'd built up over the last twenty-five years to be one of the largest in Goodhue County. My company was the largest employer for my Pack members, but I was the majority owner.

The doctor came in a few minutes later; she was Canadian, having gone to school in Minnesota and falling in love with her husband. She talked about the history, then had Catherine sit on the exam table. "Your glands are swollen," she said. "Any pain when swallowing?"

"No." She checked her lungs were clear, then asked about the joint pain. Finally, she typed out an order. "I'm not convinced this is influenza; it's more like a low-grade infection. Are you active outdoors? Any tick bites last year?"

"Very, we hike all the time when the weather is nice," she said. Lyme's disease?

"Take this down to the lab. They will draw your blood and get the results back to me. You can wait here until I return," the Doctor said.

We waited for over two hours, the nurse checking on us occasionally to make sure we hadn't left.

She was grim-faced when she came back, and she had another doctor with her, a man in his fifties with Einstein-like wild grey hair, partially tamed in a ponytail. "This is Doctor McKnight; he's the Oncologist at the hospital. I've asked him to look at your results and examine you," she said.

My heart dropped into my stomach as she introduced him. Oncologist meant cancer. "What's going on, Doc?"

"The blood test showed a very high white count and the presence of malignant hematopoletic cells, commonly called leukemic cells or 'blasts.' These occur when your body's normal production of blood cells is deranged; instead of the healthy cells, immature myeloid blasts are formed. You have cancer, Mrs. Volkov. Specifically, you have acute myeloid leukemia, the most common form of adult leukemia."

Catherine squeezed my hand hard as she tried to absorb it. "How bad is it?"

"We are going to find out," Dr. McKnight said. "I need to admit you to the hospital immediately, both to stabilize your condition and perform the tests we need to determine the course of treatment."

"What kind of tests?"

"We need to perform a bone marrow biopsy to identify the specific type of leukemia. The results will help us understand the proper treatment regimen. We also need to treat you with broad-spectrum antibiotics, as the infection your body is fighting now is winning. The white cells you are producing don't work."

The next two days went by in a blur. Catherine was wheeled from one room to another, then back to sleep until the next test was ready. The fever was going away, thanks to the antibiotics, but the fatigue was no better. When four doctors showed up with Doctor McKnight, we knew it couldn't be good news. "We received the biopsy results and the DNA tests of your blood marrow," he said as he started. "It's not what we had hoped for. The cancer is advanced and aggressive. The treatment is going to be difficult, and will require you to remain hospitalized."

"What kind of treatment? And for how long?" My wolf and I were howling inside, wanting to take the pain from our mate so she wouldn't suffer.

"We would begin an intensive chemotherapy regiment tomorrow. The first course, called the induction phase, is administered daily over the next six days. It is a strong drug, designed to clear your blood of leukemia cells and reduce the number of blasts in your bone marrow to normal levels. You will remain here, both because of the severity of the side effects, and your susceptibility to infection during the treatment."

"All my white blood cells will be gone, so I can't fight anything off," Catherine said.

"Yes. After six days, we let your body recover and start to produce blood cells again. We will then take another bone marrow biopsy to verify the treatment killed the leukemia cells. If it looks good, you will be released to return home. You will still be susceptible to illness and infection, so you need to limit exposure."

"But I can be home," she said.

"Yes. After that, we start consolidation courses of chemotherapy. These are given over five days, with about four weeks between treatments. Consolidation chemotherapy is meant to kill the small number of leukemia cells that are still around, but can't be seen in blood samples. When that is all done, we sample your bone marrow again with another biopsy to verify the cancer is in remission."

"This sounds difficult," I told him.

"I can't sugar-coat it; the regimen is difficult, and the side effects can be serious. It is necessary if you are to have a good outcome."

He wasn't kidding. Chemotherapy was a shitstorm, a clusterfuck of symptoms, a virtual parade of indignities, torments, and problems. I held Catherine's hair as she threw up, and then her hair fell out, so I held her head. Open sores in her mouth, rashes on her body, extreme fatigue, loss of appetite, weight loss, loss of her ability to taste things, headaches... it just went on and on. The doctors continually adjusted medications to address the side effects, but it was like the old cartoon of the leaky dam; they'd find a drug that helped the rash, and she'd develop the sore on the inside of her cheek.

I ignored the Pack and the company as I did what I could to help her. I would spend all day with her at the hospital, then drive home, shower and sleep, and start it again the next day. Visitors were restricted to her immediate family due to her susceptibility to infection. Larry and Donna moved in with me, helping as best they could. Catherine didn't have the energy to talk on the phone or greet people anyway. I would read her the text messages, send email updates, and keep her going as best I could.

Catherine was a fighter; she wasn't going to give in to her diagnosis. "I'm going to fight this shit," she had told me before they put the needle in for her first course of chemotherapy. It became our rally cry; it was what I told her before every chemo course started, and what I told her every night before I left.

I stopped at Emily's Bakery and bought a cake for when the first course was done, with balloons and flowers. "What do you want on it," the girl asked me.

"Can you put 'Fight That Shit' on it?" She looked at me like I was nuts. "My wife has cancer. She's fighting that shit."

"I'll be right back with that," she said. The "Fight That Shit" cake was a hit at the hospital. Her older brother ordered "Fight That Shit" t-shirts, we had "Fight That Shit" water bottles, and "Fight That Shit" floral arrangements.

Catherine didn't leave the hospital for sixteen days. When I brought her home, she rarely left the bedroom for the next few months. Her mother and I made sure Catherine kept on track with her many medications. She would sleep a lot, especially after her days receiving chemo. Finally, in May, she had her second biopsy.

She broke down as I held her when the doctor called with the results. She railed against Luna, cancer, and the unfairness of it all. Her cancer had survived.

We did it again, with slightly different drugs, and by September, that course of treatment had failed as well. The cancer was too advanced and too resistant to the therapy. "I can't do it anymore," she told me after we returned home. "I don't want to spend the rest of our time together on round three."

Tears soaked my face as I kissed her forehead. "We'll make the most of the time we have left," I told her. The doctors said there was less than a one percent chance of remission now, and gave her two to four months to live.

She made it to Thanksgiving. As I fed her mashed potatoes, she made me promise I would not follow her when she was gone. "I want you to live a full life, Leo," she told me. "We have eternity together in the Moon's embrace, no matter how long you take to get there. I want you to have stories for me."

I promised her I would not kill myself. It was a promise I would later regret.

On Black Friday, surrounded by her family, Catherine Volkov rose to the moon at 8:22 pm.

Her body was cremated, and the Pack celebrated her life with a Pack run on Tuesday night. I led the wolves through the woods, unable to cry in that form. We reached the point over the Cannon River Valley that was our spot, and I let out a mournful howl.

It was the last time I led my Pack in anything.

My love, my light, my reason to live was gone, and I didn't know what to do now.

I didn't have anything to live for, and I didn't care.