The Heart of the Lone Wolf by Montgomery Mahaffey Page B

Trainer said gently. “It’s the last boat leaving before winter and I’ll be on it. I’m leaving, little miss.”
    A picture of what life would be without the Trainer suddenly came to mind, the image so upsetting I dropped my pole. I was too stunned to cry. The Trainer pulled me close and stroked my back just like he had after my accident. He had the same smoky aroma as the turning leaves, his pulse beating against the side of my face, almost soothing but not quite.
    “Can I go with you?”
    “Little miss,” he murmured, “you know that’s impossible.”
    I started weeping then. The Trainer pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around me. I clutched at him, not certain whether the shaking came from him or from me.
    “It hurts to say good-bye,” he whispered. “No matter how many times I’ve said it, it never gets easier.”
    “Then you should stay. Please.”
    “It’s not that simple. Let me show you what I mean.”
    He took hold of my chin and turned me to face the river. A school of trout was swimming past, gleaming silver in the water before they went round the bend.
    “If you caught one,” he said, “and left it out of the water, what would happen?”
    “The fish would die.”
    “That’s right,” he said. “Do you understand that asking me to stay is like asking a fish to live outside of water?”
    “But when you go, I’m never going to see you again.”
    “That’s not true,” he said. “You can see me whenever you want. Look inside your heart because I’ll always be there. Just like you’ll always be in mine.”
    I couldn’t stop staring at his face. His tanned skin was a smooth sheath over his bones, fine lines etched around his eyes when he squinted in the sun. His voice was melodious while he brushed the tears from my cheeks. The kindness was there as always.
    Then something shifted in his gaze. His eyes darkened and his body grew taut, while mine became a stranger to me. It was as if I was blushing inside, then overcome with a wanting that was frightening. The Trainer closed his eyes and exhaled sharply, stroking my hair and pressing his lips on my forehead. My knees buckled when he did that and I melted, wrapping my arms around him. I remember wishing that embrace would last for eternity.
    But Papa had come. I didn’t hear him approach, but I felt the Trainer go tense. He must have seen him because he gently pushed me away before he bowed. I turned and saw Papa on his reddish brown steed.
    “I beg your pardon, Patron,” the Trainer said. “But this is not what it seems.”
    Papa didn’t say anything at first, his eyes narrowed as his regard shifted between us. My cheeks grew hot and I couldn’t stop fidgeting when his gaze rested on me. I avoided looking at him.
    “If this is not what it appears to be,” he said, “then what is it?”
    “I told your daughter I was leaving and she became upset. I was trying to comfort her.”
    “I see,” Papa said, but his tone was reserved. The way he stared down the Trainer made me cringe.
    “I hope I didn’t make a mistake in trusting you.”
    “No, Patron,” the Trainer replied in a steady voice. “On my soul, you did not.”
    Papa nodded, seeming to accept his explanation. The tension eased a little when he looked at me. His expression was soft and his voice the gentlest I’d ever heard from him.
    “Dinner starts an hour earlier tonight,” he said. “I came to remind you not to be late.”
    Then he left, but the spell was broken. The Trainer and I didn’t say much, just picked up our poles and sat by the river for another hour. I remember neither of us caught anything.
    The next day, I almost expected Papa to forbid me to ride with the Trainer, and was both relieved and nervous when he didn’t. By unspoken agreement, we avoided the Abandoned Valley. Riding sidesaddle was irritating, and I had the sense that the freedom I enjoyed all summer had come to an end.
    The Trainer never brought up what happened while I was in