The Green's Hill Novellas by Amy Lane Page A

One of them will adopt you immediately, I’m sure.”
    Charlie’s hand, whole now, not withered for all his thinness, was splayed over Whim’s chest. “I want to play with you instead,” he said, and his voice was Charlie’s voice—playful, demanding, irrepressible.
    “Later,” Whim muttered. “After I’ve held you for about a thousand hours.”
    “Yeah.” Suddenly, Charlie became aware of Daniel, and a moment of conflict crossed his face, a reluctance to shoulder a burden he knew he must, and that moment was enough for Daniel. “I… I can’t…. Whim, I need to make sure Daniel is okay….” And before Whim could even be hurt by the moment of duty, Daniel made his decision.
    “I’m fine,” Daniel said through a tight throat. “I’m fine. You go be happy, Charlie. You’ve earned it.”
    Charlie looked at Whim. “Can we make sure he’s taken care of, Whim? There’s legal stuff and—”
    “I’m on it,” said the cop, coming up behind Daniel. “In fact, I’ll even give him a ride home. Ouch! Dammit, Renny, I’m helping!”
    Daniel looked down and saw Renny was a cat again, and she’d just shoved her claws into Max’s leg. Giving the cat equivalent of a chuckle, she turned her fuzzy butt toward Max and Daniel and led the way to the car.
    Daniel knelt for a moment and gave Charlie a kiss on the cheek. “Bye, Charlie,” he said gruffly. This was better than seeing him die, he told himself. He could be happy, just knowing that Charlie was happy out in the world.
    “Bye, Daniel,” Charlie said back, but he could barely look at Daniel long enough to say it. His eyes were all on the clean, beautiful profile of the elf who had just saved his life for love and love alone.
    When Daniel got to the graffiti wall, he turned around for one last look. Whim had sunk to the ground completely, crossing his legs and keeping Charlie securely on his lap. Lambent had produced a blanket from somewhere and draped it over them, and was now leaning back against a tree, his cheek on his knees, looking prepared to doze quietly until the lovers were ready to go.
    Charlie was leaning his head on Whim’s shoulder and looking at him with more devotion than Daniel had ever felt for another human being, much less earned for himself.
    Daniel swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and left the future tomcat and the elf named Whim to their faithful Litha night.
     
     
    A YEAR later, Daniel came back to the clearing.
    No one had told him to come; no one had invited him. But he had lived through the year, had dealt with his grief, had taken care of himself and come out complete.
    Of course, Whim’s people had helped. Two days after Litha, the police officer had shown up, catlike girl at his side, and given him a forged death certificate as well as a will—notarized—that said Daniel got Charlie’s house and all of his possessions.
    The only exceptions were thirteen of the fourteen cunning little wooden toys sitting on Charlie’s glass-cased shelf.
    The one that Max and Renny left was the one Whim had made when he thought Charlie had been going to say good-bye—the one showing the cat and the elf in a clearing, playing with an undisguised joy.
    Daniel took it as a sign. He took his medication, kept his job, fed Texas-the-depressed-cat, and mowed the lawn. He made peace with his parents, consoled Charlie’s folks, got to know Charlie’s sisters, and attended family dinners. He came to learn all of the lessons Charlie had been trying to teach him when he’d been there, and he wondered if he ever would have grown up enough to learn them if Charlie hadn’t left.
    He realized that his love for Charlie had been the love for a caretaker and not that of a beloved, and he grew up enough to be grateful that Charlie had cared.
    He showed up at the little back lot, magical only one night a year, so he could show Charlie he was okay. So he could say good-bye.
    They were there. Whim wasn’t throwing a stick like the scene in