September Song

A Thursday Prompt Story: Stability

Wilson G. Bear

Had it really been so long? I looked at the Human-oriented calendar and made the usual calculations in my head. It was September 27^th, five days past the Autumnal Equinox, the fifth day of the Moon of Stubble by the calendar of the Home World. The air was redolent with the aroma of the turning leaves as the trees themselves prepared for winter. It was cooler and drier, a refreshing change from the long, hot and humid summer recently drawn to a close. I had been living Off-World -- in the Human World -- for twenty years. Only a year before that time, Justin Bellamy was simply a strange creature I had met through an adventure with my friend Phil Feodor. This day, as the Chief Executive Officer of InterWorld Trading, Justin was one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in either world.

I am called Wilson Bear. I know; folk in the Occident and in the Eastern part of the continent frown upon the use of one's species as a family name. Our original name was Urukh, a Natural Tongue sound that means Me: Brown Bear, and which is absolutely unpronounceable by non-Ursines. Truly, you do not want to know what the usual mispronunciation means. We used Xóots for a while -- and again, it means the same thing -- but our ancestors found the Occidentals had trouble with the hard glottals and consonants of our native Tlingit language. We decided to use the Anglic: Bear it became and Bear it remained.

I am the Adjutant Minister of Goods and Resources for the North American Confederation. I have the responsibility of finding products or services that may be useful in my nation of our Home World -- the parallel universe Humans call 'Fur World' -- and determine what we may trade for them. Part of my duty is finding Charters of Privilege -- patents -- we could use at home. I also license and limit imports of goods, foods and manufactured products through the Bellamy Portals. I did work for InterWorld for a few years, but Phil Feodor, an old friend from school and currently Lieutenant Minister, convinced me that my Home World would appreciate my loyalty. It is hard to argue with a Siberian Tiger.

This day was a double anniversary: the bad and the good. It had been twenty-two years since my family left. Two years after my world fell apart, a new world opened up for me. I had a new family of friends and coworkers, my loyalty to my peoples and, well, Humans to deal with. I had even started a new relationship with Kosame, a Vixen from Ryūkyū Kingdom whom I had met while we were working here. As drastically as things had changed, I was comfortable.

~*~

When I was a young man courting the girls
I played me a waiting game
If a maid refused me with tossing curls
I'd let the old Earth take a couple of whirls
While I plied her with tears in place of pearls
And as time came around, she came my way
As time came around, she came

I taught Analytic Logics -- computer programming to Humans -- specifically Initiation to Analytics, a course the University expected all students to complete. Most students only took the class as a requirement, but there were some students who dropped their intended majors to pursue degrees in Machines and Numbers. One trimester a tall, fair woman entered the classroom and sat in the front row. She was arguably the most beautiful Bear I had ever seen. She never spoke unless I asked her a question; her tests and papers and grades indicated she understood the material but had no feel for it. At the end, she completed with a 7.1, nothing amazing but a passing grade.

I sat in my office, grading the last of the test papers when she came in. "A moment, Professor?"

"Of course, Dahlia. Please be seated. Did you have a question about the exam or your grade?"

She took my side chair. "No, this has nothing to do with the class." She chewed her lower lip; a gesture Humans seem to know very well. "I wished to ask -- I want to --" She seemed flummoxed. "Are you mated, Professor?"

"I... am not," I replied cautiously.

"Are you keeping company with anyone?"

"Not recently. It has been a while." A rather toxic relationship with another instructor came to mind, but she had gone on sabbatical in the Occident. "It may be indelicate of me to inquire, but why do you ask?"

She smiled, the first time I had ever actually seen her do so. "I am not blind, Professor, and I know that among Bears I am... I have seen you watching me. I thought perhaps you were interested."

And so was I found out. "My eyes have betrayed me. Do you wish to bring this up with the Board of Regents?"

She looked surprised, but then she laughed, a marvelous sound. "No, Master Bear; what I want is to have dinner with you."

I took a deep breath. "Since the trimester is over and I have already entered your marks, I see no impropriety. You have completed your studies, have you not?"

"I have," she replied, "So if you have the evening free?"

I did, and a lovely evening it was. I wisely avoided bringing her to one of my Mother's shops. I was well known at both of the local franchises, and word traveled quickly. We found a back booth at The Blind Pig and Yancey, the proprietor, left us with our peace until he closed well after midnight. I offered to drive her to her apartment, but she said she did not wish to awaken her roommate. Since it was Midweek and neither of us had any obligations the next day, I brought her back to my house.

We were hand-fasted by my friend Phil Feodor a few months later. By the Winter Solstice Dahlia realized she was with child. The house had a spare room to use for a nursery, and my salary was more than sufficient for three. Arrangements were made and furniture purchased. She found a birthing matron for when the time came. My Mother made the trip from Yukon with my father to see another great-child born; Dahlia's mother had no interest in traveling. My father's advice was the same for Dahlia and for me, three words: breathe, breathe, breathe.

Chena was a large baby and her coat a very pale color. Her birth was easy, as Dahlia was sizable, even for a bear; there were no complications. I had never seen anything so beautiful as the two of them together. I stayed by their side for four days until my mate insisted that I return to work.

There was some trouble at school. One of my former students, Bào the Panda, had gone to the Board of Regents and told them he thought Dahlia and I had started our relationship before she graduated. There was no way I could defend myself, and no way the Board could prove any wrongdoing, but the stain was there and they asked for my resignation. I knew better than to fight the inevitable.

Dahlia always hated the East and longed to return to her home in Soquel. We argued without end; I could not leave the school and abandon my career; she found my academic life stifling. Now, with me jobless, there was no reason for her to stay. Her parents had gone their separate ways before I met her as a student in one of my classes. Her father died shortly after we were hand-fasted. That last, fateful day after five years, my mate, Dahlia told me she was taking our four-year-old daughter Chena and they were to live with her mother in her native Ohlone Enclave on the west coast..

I had nothing to leave behind. My teaching job at Newhaven University was gone. I found a position working in the private sector as a consultant, and while the money was a little better than academics, I derived no satisfaction moving from client to client, and the hours were onerous. Justin Bellamy brought me off-world and set me up with an office and a staff in Newhaven -- make that, New Haven, here -- and eventually the Ministry job rolled along.

~*~

But it's a long, long while from May to December
And the days grow short when you reach September
And the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
And I haven't got time for waiting game
And the wine dwindles down to a precious brew
September, November,
And these few vintage years I'd share with you
Those vintage years I'd share with you

I worked and lived in the Human world; and there were no other Furs on my street, although there were a few families in town: another Bear I had known for years lived with his mate a few miles away, and a pair of Beavers lived near them, in what the Humans had come to call 'Critter Corner'. A family of Whitetails lived up the hill a few houses from the Bears. If you have read my other works, you know I lived on a dead-end dirt road on a hilltop in the middle of nowhere.

All that changed almost the minute I arrived at home that day. The Stoddard Excelsior that rumbled down the gravel road, raising a huge plume of dust, belonged to none of the Furs in town. My Home world designed the Excelsior as a troop transport, for a purpose similar to the Humans' Humvee, and it is at least as large and obtrusive. I felt as though my little spot in the worlds was under attack. A second Excelsior joined the first, and a wave of dread swept over me as I recognized the driver of the closer vehicle: my Mother.

For the benefit of my Human readers, my family hailed from Yukon, specifically from Dakwäkãda, a township that corresponded to Haines Junction in your world. My Father's native tongue shared vocabulary and usage with the Tlingit language, but Mother's family, from the Kingdom of the Bears, spoke Tutchone. Our customs tended to vary a bit from the corresponding Human First Nations traditions. We did not have much in the way of organized religion, but we practiced a form of impromptu ancestor worship. One might ply deceased relatives with small gifts or sacrifices in return for favors or advice. If one wanted to clear the house of unwanted guests, one suggested that one was expecting a visit from one's ancestors.

My Mother, Elna George, operated the chain of food shops -- think, truck stops or restaurants -- called George's that spread across the continent and were now colonizing the Human world. Humans love the pomp and circumstance of a ribbon cutting, and as she was half-Kodiak, Mother was quite impressive. She traveled both worlds with her entourage, and on this day, they descended on me. At the age of sixty-two years, I still had both parents living and active in their early eighties. Their parents -- my great-parents -- yet lived as well, although my youngest great-mother, a Kodiak, was one hundred and one. This day, Mam had brought all to my doorstep, as it were. My ancestors had, indeed, come to pay a visit.

Mam returned my wave, if a bit less tentatively than my own. Her monstrous vehicle came to a halt in a spray of gravel and a pall of dust. As I cast my eyes toward the second Excelsior, my sister Arla waved from the operator's console. Arla managed the day-to-day affairs of the stores, as Mam oversaw the ceremonial work. Arla's daughter Ruetha sat next to her in the front passenger seat. Two other women I did not recognize at first sat in the middle seats, with my Father's parents in the rear. The older woman looked out the window, away from me, as though she did not wish to set eyes upon me. The younger one stared at me as though I was a thing of fable, a creature rarely spoken of and more seldom seen. She mouthed a single word in the Ohlone Native tongue, Aha’ya, one of the three I knew. That alone told me who she was.

The younger woman pushed open the door as her cousin Ruetha got out of the vehicle. She peered back into the Excelsior, but the older woman raised a paw dismissively. She approached me tentatively, repeating the word she had spoken, this time in Anglic. "Father?"

Chena was four years old when Dahlia returned with her to their ancestral lands. There had been no word, no communication at all in the intervening decades. If I thought of her at all, it was only the memory of a small cub, wide-eyed, her family sundered by circumstances beyond her comprehension. Suddenly, her arms were around me in the kind of hug only my people knew. I do not know how long I stood there and just held her, but when we finally separated, my spectacles were drenched and my muzzle sodden.

Like her mother's, Chena's coat was always lighter than mine. Dahlia was a Western Brown bear, analogous to the California Grizzly of the Human World. They are similar to my Mother's mother, a Sun'aq or 'Kodiak', as the Humans know them. Not long before the end, I made a comment to a friend that they were my 'golden' bears. Precious, fair of color, rare as the metal itself. Now, my daughter had returned to me, here, in the Human World, and she was nearly as tall as I.

All rivers to the Sea, or as Humans say, water under the bridge. Two decades wash away many things: joy, peace, misery, loneliness. I had a new job, a new world, a new love. My Mother turned the tide by the force of her will, for what ends I knew not yet. I had to know what her game was, even if I was powerless to play, win, lose or quit. With no little trepidation, I approached the operator's door of the Excelsior. Mam's face was unreadable, as it always was when she played her game. Perhaps inscrutable is a better word. The window slid down into the door pocket with a whir; power windows are still an expensive option on Fur vehicles. She regarded me down her long gray muzzle and blinked slowly.

"Thank you for bringing my daughter to visit. How did you ever convince her mother to come with you?"

"Oh, Dahlia did not come with me, she came with Arla." True enough, Dahlia and my Mother -- well, that mother-in-law dynamic comes into play. She got on well enough with my sister, however.

"So, she did. Perhaps I misspoke. What brings you and all the family to the Human World, and to my little corner of it?"

"I am opening a new franchise at Blue Back Square in West Hartford. The dedication is in two days."

"So I had heard. I had so hoped you would come to visit." I had so hoped I had a capsule of cyanide behind my molar. My father chose that moment to disembark from the Excelsior. He caught my eye and inclined his muzzle toward my house. "I will show him to the sanitary and rejoin you directly." The corner of Mam's mouth twitched, just a bit. Both of my great-fathers lurched from their respective vehicles as well. I led the troupe of gray-muzzle Grizzlies to the necessary.

When I first moved into the house, my hosts, two brothers, had four dogs as pets. The oldest brother moved to live in the Fur Home World, and taking pets was a complicated procedure. He left his two in my hands. His brother eventually moved to the Fur World as well, and I assumed responsibility for all four pets. Long ago they were replaced by younger animals as they grew old and passed on. The current generation were more used to Furs than they were to Humans. They timidly greeted my ancestors, finally settling on my father and his father as their favorites. Family smell, I suppose.

While the males took care of their needs, Mother arrived with the female contingent. Ours is a matriarchal society, and while males may generally be regarded as a necessary nuisance, we are allowed first-up for certain things, of which relief is clearly one. I pushed open the window of the small room and switched on the fan -- concentrated male Bear musk goes beyond funky, and the air was fetid. The ventilation was a simple mercy for the Matriarchs. Both great-mothers stood at the head of the line; Mother, standing behind them, examined her perfectly trimmed and buffed claws. Arla waited behind Mother, and Dahlia followed her, still refusing to make eye contact with me. Ruetha and Chena chattered happily, bringing up the rear of the line -- at least, nearly so. A cub clung to Chena’s paw. My jaw must have dropped. My daughter grinned as she looked up from the cub. "Father -- Da -- this is Autumn. She is your great-daughter."

"Great-daughter? How -- when -- you are a mother?"

"Yes, yes I am. When would be two years and a half ago, and how would be the usual way Bears make more Bears. I should not have to explain that to you," she added with a smirk on her muzzle.

"And her father?"

"Autumn's father is... not a part of our lives. I awoke one day and realized that he was not contributing to the family. That was one instance that I agreed with Mam." She reached her paw out to my little orange-and-cream mongrel, letting the beast sniff her digits. The dog seemed to recognize her scent and continued to sniff my daughter and great-daughter. The usually fearful creature wagged her tail and allowed Autumn to touch her, then pet her.

My extended family finished cycling through the sanitary and we started to consider dinner plans. Mother had loaded the Excelsiors' storage capacity to the maximum with camping and meal supplies; I offered my supply of staples: flours, rice, beans, noodles of many sorts, root crop stocks, frozen fruits and vegetables and preserved goods in tins and flasks. My supply of fresh meat was shockingly thin; I had not done any shopping recently. I could only offer a few packs of chicken and part of a ham.

Mother took inventory and decided that soups or stews would be most efficient. She produced an amount of fresh fish from the Excelsiors' cooler chests. I suppressed a shudder; Mam and Da had met when he delivered fish to her mother's shop decades back. I did my best to avoid seafood since I left my parents' home forty-five years before.

Another vehicle crunched down the gravel road. At first, I thought it was my housemate, Nevan 'Digger' Barrow, a Warrigal or 'Dingo', but the dogs' reaction suggested otherwise. They practically worshipped the Warrigal, considering him their pack leader and recognized the sound of his vehicles. Not a neighbor; this was someone they knew well. I got to the window in time to see a familiar Human-made vehicle pull into the drive. A small, Red Fox Vixen rose from the operator's door and approached the house.

Mam glanced up from her projects when she heard the tread on the deck. She peered out the door. "You did not say you were expecting Kosame this evening."

As if I could have gotten a word in edgewise. "She usually visits once or twice a week."

She nodded and turned her paws up briefly. "There should be enough for all." She went back to marshalling food and utensils.

I opened the back door as the dogs clustered about, wagging their tails madly. "Folks, for those of you who have not met her, this is Amase Kosame." I introduced as much of my family as I could remember had not met her. Kosame bowed and smiled as each new Bear crowded around. "And this is Chena..."

Kosame touched paws with her. "Wilson has spoken of you often. I never expected to meet you."

"I thought my father... I did not expect he would..."

"It was a bit of a surprise to us as well, but we have been keeping company now for almost six years."

Chena gripped the Vixen's paws as a smile spread over her muzzle. "I am glad the two of you have-- for several reasons." She glanced behind me.

I suddenly became aware of Dahlia glaring at me from the living room. "And this is --" my former mate stepped out of the line of sight, "Dahlia, whom I believe I have mentioned."

Kosame did her best to hide the smile forming on her muzzle. "In only the kindest and most complimentary of terms." The scoffing of a female Brown Bear is an unmistakable sound. Dahlia and Mother managed to produce it simultaneously.

Autumn appeared from the living room and approached the Kitsune. "Fox," she announced with the certainty of a toddler.

"This is Autumn, Chena's daughter."

Kosame crouched to as close to child height as she could manage. "Of the evening, little Bear. My name is Kosame, but you may call me Ame; as your great-father does."

"Ame... Fox." Autumn nodded sagely. "We have Foxes in our village. We also have Deer. Do you live here, too?"

"No, Honey Bear, I live many stones from here, but I come to visit your great-father."

Autumn spread her arms wide and embraced Ame. My girlfriend looked up at me, her grin now honest and open with the child's acceptance.

Between the five burners and the oven in my stove, my microwave, the two huge cookers retrieved from the Excelsiors and a charcoal grill, my Mother put together an enormous feast. There was plenty for all of my relatives, current and former, as well as for Ame and Digger, who had just arrived. I despaired of storing the leftovers, but much of it disappeared into containers in the cooler chests. I did get to keep some gravy and the leftover chicken soup, and Ame obtained a container of fish stew -- and my Mother's approval.

We gathered in the living room, with Autumn attacking a bit of fried honey cake with a tiny fork. Ame sat on the carpet, pressed against my leg on my right, and Chena pressed against my left leg. Between them, Autumn mopped up honey from my hives with a bit of cake. Digger retired to his room to do whatever he did on the internet.

My father worried an old concern like a piece of tough meat. "So, you still work for the Government, Wilson?"

"I do, sir. It is honest work..."

He raised an eyebrow and snorted, "As you say. It takes nothing and makes nothing of it and you take the glory and the blame. You have nothing to show for it, but you go on to the next."

"Is that so different from the cartage business? You take a product you do not make and do not need, and you bring it to someone who pays for both the product and the moving of it." We play these mind games every time we meet. Over all the years, we have refined the argument from shouting ourselves hoarse to clever repartee. We enjoy the game, and my Mother tunes us out. This night Mam, Arla and Ruetha went over business strategy -- which I find easy to ignore. Having reached another stalemate with Da, I stood and stretched. "I am going out to check on my bees. Does anyone care to join me?"

Chena leaped to her feet and Autumn handed her a polished plate. "I would love to see them, Da; Mam and I keep bees at home."

I smiled. "Show me a Bear who does not." I led the way to the back door, keeping the curious dogs inside. At the very back of the yard, five modern hives stood on their wooden stands.

Chena peered at the buzzing hives. "They do not look like ours; they are square and boxy."

"They are a standard Human design, easy to build and maintain with inexpensive lumber and simple tools. Not like the ceramic hives we are used to at home."

My daughter and great-daughter watched the bees arrive from foraging in the gathering gloom. Chena whispered, "Look, Autumn, Da's bees are different from ours."

"They are," I agreed, "The Humans' bees are different varieties from anything we have at home. I am told they are the same species, but they developed distinct colors and patterns."

Chena pointed to a bee arriving at the entrance to its hive. "Her wings are a different shape, and they do not lie the same way."

"Ours look as strange to Humans, but they both make lovely honey. Now, I have to feed my squirrels." A few yards from the hives, a largish metal-framed cage sat on its own stand. Inside, two wild gray squirrels raced about.

"They hardly look large enough to eat," Chena observed.

"They are not, really. One of my former students works here, on the Human side of the Portal; he brought them to me a few days ago. I like to feed them maize for two weeks or so to clean them out and fatten them up."

The rodents fascinated Autumn. "Do they have names?"

I laughed, but I pointed to the one on the left. "I think I will name this one Brunswick," I indicated the other, "And call this one Stew."

Chena furrowed her brow. "Brunswick?"

"I am sorry, I sometimes forget you do not live in this world. Brunswick is a sort of stew made with meat, vegetables and usually beans."

"As Great-mother made this evening."

"Yes, I suppose that is a good example. I thought it was a matter of desperation, working with very little of any particular food. She combined a variety of things and made it all come together." I retrieved a steel cannister full of cracked maize from under the cage and showed Autumn how to fill the feeding trough.

"I wish I could know her better."

"My Mother? Careful what you wish for. And she and your Mother do not get along well."

Chena drew a breath and let out a sigh. "I have noticed this. We ate at several of her shops on the way here, on both sides of the Portal. Mother grumbled the whole time. Arla asked for separate tables, but Great-mother..."

"Yes, she owns the shops. And she allows no one, not even the consignees, to forget that. I was born and grew up in her mother's shop. Today, she reigns with an iron fist, across the continent in both worlds."

"But the Humans seem to love the place."

I turned my palms up. "Most Furs do, as well." I looked up at the darkening sky. "It will get colder, soon; we best get inside."

With the family fed and my food supply looked after, it was time for some hot beverages. I boiled water and found enough mugs to serve the clan. I made steeps and teas of all sorts, even the green tea Kosame prefers. Mother, her father and I settled down with decaffeinated coffee, lest it keep us awake. We talked of the old home and the new world.

My Father had purchased a competitor's business to allow its owner to retire. The elder Lynx had no heirs to whom he might pass the business. Now he and his mate could move south and pursue the dreams of their lifetimes. My sister's mate assumed responsibility for the recently acquired equipment and business routes. He was a good businessman, controlling the daily operations of Father's freighters for more than twenty years. The most important gains were several clients in the human world, and a contract that granted access to a Bellamy Portal connecting the Fur town of Sugpiaq to the Human city of Homer, Alaska.

So the talk went until late in the evening. Autumn had long since fallen asleep in her mother's lap. Chena herself sat braced against my chair, snoring quietly. At one point, Autumn disappeared, but moments later we heard Digger evicting her from his room. Apparently, she had determined how to work the slippery, round, Human-style door latches and began exploring.

After a while, even Kosame seemed to doze, although with her it was impossible to be certain. Mother seemed tired, and she suggested it was bedtime. My father and great-fathers had assembled elaborate tents from the stores in the Excelsiors, and the vehicles' seats reclined to sleep even more folk. It is still charming to watch 100-year-old Bears pair up and wander off to bed, arms around each other as it has been since long before I first drew breath.

Chena roused her little one and motioned her off to the sanitary. I reflected for a moment how much they looked like Dahlia and Chena from so long ago. Chena looked back at Kosame for a moment. "Are you driving home, or do you need somewhere to sleep?"

Kosame inclined her muzzle to indicate my room. "Thank you, I am staying here, tonight."

Chena nodded with a grin. Dahlia chose that moment to take her place in line. I received a disgusted glare for no reason I could discern.

~*~

But it's a long, long while from May to December
And the days grow short when you reach September
And I have lost one tooth and I walk a little lame
And I haven't got time for waiting game
And the days turn to gold as they grow few
September, November
And these few golden days I'd spend with you
These golden days I'd spend with you

I awoke with a Vixen pressed into the curve of my chest and thighs, and my little dog pressed against my back. It was Midweek so Ame and I had the day off. The sounds of industry from the kitchen reminded me that there was a family of hungry carnivores camped nearby -- and at least one of them was making breakfast. I disentangled a long, brushy tail from my legs and went to investigate the activity. Mother's mother and Father's mother were stirring my largest pots, filled with various cereals. Ruetha and Chena were fetching and carrying for them. Father's mother peered at a cylindrical box. "What are 'grits', boy?"

"It is maize, treated with alkali to soften and remove the skin of the kernel. Then it is dried and crushed."

She sniffed the contents and turned up one palm, "It is good to eat, yah?"

"Yes, but it is better if you put something over it. Honey, maple syrup, gravy or butter and pepper."

"We will try it," she announced, "Ruetha, get a -- " She peered at the label, "Three-quart pot. Chena, I need six cups of water." My daughter had found my liter-sized silicone measuring beaker and started filling it at the sink.

Mother's mother, at over one hundred years and still taller than I was, stirred a two-gallon pot of steel-cut oats. Raisins dotted the cereal; some mix of spices perfumed the air. I gave her my best uh-oh face. "Have you anything without raisins in it?

She laughed and lifted the lid on a smaller pot of oats. "I have cooked for Foxes and Canines before. I know their dietary limits and your father loathes raisins. Besides, I have this." On the back of the stove, a pot of steamed kibble waited. Something for everyone.

My kitchen was designed for one or two average Humans. Four or five large Bears taxed its space almost painfully. I retreated to the dining room to watch the show.

Digger, ready for work, was buttonholed by a bevy of Bears. Mother's mother handed him a plate with some kibble and bowl of and raisin-free oatmeal. A timer sounded and Father's mother offered him a large spoonful of the grits, which he accepted. At the table, he ladled some of last night's gravy over the kibble and poured local maple syrup over the grits. Ame arrived wearing my Newhaven University jersey and was offered the same. She sniffed the plate and closed her eyes in bliss. Mother's mother stood in the living room archway and inclined her head toward the food. Bears filed into the cramped kitchen to be served and into either the dining room or the living room to eat.

~*~

When you meet with the young men early in Spring
They court you in song and rhyme
They woo you with words and a clover ring
But if you examine the goods they bring
They have little to offer, but the songs they sing
And a plentiful waste of time of day
A plentiful waste of time

I sat at the picnic table with Ame as Chena led Autumn down the steps. She looked somewhat preoccupied but joined us at the table. I caught her glance. "Something troubling you?"

"No trouble, I am considering something."

Ame made to stand up. "Do you want your Father to yourself?"

"Oh, no, please stay. Perhaps more folks' insight will help."

I picked up Autumn. "What is on your mind?"

"Great-mother has offered me employment."

I tried to keep my face neutral, but it was probably a losing challenge. "Are you working now?"

"No. I had a situation at home, but I requested a dismissal."

"I see. What will you be doing?"

"Arla needs more help with operations. Ruetha handles some of the responsibility, but they need a third person. She wants to break up the territories to make them easier to manage; Ruetha already oversees the Human side of the Portal, but now there are too many stores for one to oversee. Once they train me, she thinks I can be a regional manager."

"Is this something you believe you can do? Do you have the experience?"

"Some of it. I have worked in trade services and some store management. It was not very challenging at home. Arla wants me to train at a shop and then at a district office."

"The Boss' great-daughter on the corporate ladder," Ame observed, "The Humans may not like that very much."

"I do understand that some Humans are not as reasonable as Furs."

"Some Furs are not as reasonable as Furs," I spoke from experience, "Expect some difficulty."

She nodded absently while removing a bit of food from Autumn's muzzle. "Arla said if someone was deserving of advancement, they were awarded it. Many Human employers pay more and the better employees leave for higher compensation rather than wait for opportunity."

"Oh, I have seen that. We have had issues in the past with Fur employees leaving one Human business for another and the lure of greater pay. It does not always work out well."

"That is true anywhere. I am not expecting the Humans to like me, I expect them to accept their responsibilities."

Ame's muzzle jerked up as she met my eyes. "She has hardly met Elna and already she sounds like her."

I grinned but returned to Chena. "Have you discussed this with your mother? She will not like this, and she hates your great-mother."

"Mam does not like anyone outside the Enclave and she does not like Humans. I know how she feels about your mother." She glared at something in the distance. "I am twenty-six years old. I have my own life now; I do not want to return to the Ohlone Enclave and spend the rest of my life in her shadow." She watched Autumn for a moment. "I am not going to ask Mam. I am going to tell her."

Ame patted her paws on the tabletop in applause. "That is a healthy attitude."

Chena favored the Vixen with a quizzical look. "Healthy?"

Ame waved a paw. "Apologies. I have a rather new job: I finished training as a Psychoanalyst -- something like an alienist -- a few years ago. I sit and listen to Humans tell me their problems and I help them find their own solutions. Making decisive choices is a good sign of a healthy mind."

The golden Bear rolled her eyes and laughed. "It is good to know I am not mad, then. So, why do Humans come to you instead of a Psycho... analyst of their own species?"

"The theory is, they prefer to talk to an outsider, someone who is not like them. I have some patients who do not relate well to other Humans, but they open up to me."

"So, Humans are strange?"

"My patients are."

Chena stood. "Can you watch Autumn for a bit? I have something to discuss with my mother."

"We can. All right, Autumn?" The child waved one paw dismissively, intent on an insect on the table.

Chena disappeared into the house. Momentarily, Mother came out the same door and crossed the yard to sit with us. She shook her head but wore a sly grin. "You know," she murmured, a statement, not a question.

Minutes later, Dahlia's voice carried clearly from the living room into the back yard. I recalled her tone from so many years ago, if not the volume. I did not, however remember the note of betrayal that crept in. I shall not record the words she spoke; I owe her that much respect. Suffice it to say that while she avoided abuse, she made her distress evident.

When Chena reappeared, her ears were folded back against her head. Humans and many Furs will not understand how difficult that is for a Bear. Those are muscles we seldom call into play, but they are certainly there. Her expression, however, was one of determination... and victory. "I think I would like to take a walk."

"Would you like me to go with you?"

"Thank you, no." She held out a paw to Autumn. "I believe I have had enough parents for a bit."

Ame stood. "Would you care to... talk?"

My daughter considered a moment. "Perhaps. I need to walk; I can talk at the same time."

"Take a dog with you," I suggested.

Ame nodded. "The leashes are just inside the door." Presently, Ruetha, Ame and Chena descended the back steps, each leading an insane dog. Chena beckoned to Autumn, who ran to join the impromptu parade.

Mother patted my arm as I watched them leave. "I think that went well." She guffawed, got up and headed toward the Excelsiors.

I was not alone for very long. The door opened once more and Dahlia stepped out. She glared at me and turned to go back in, changed her mind and strode across the yard to where I was sitting. "This is your doing," she snarled.

"I knew nothing of it until she told me, half a bell ago."

"Your mother..."

"I have no doubt she is the instigator, but in this case, I can actually see her wisdom. She needs good help; Chena is family and she has some experience."

"This is how she spites me." She sat, unbidden,

"Chena is tired of the Enclave, and I believe she finds your influence..."

She glared at me. "What?"

"My impression is she feels stifled. That she has no real future living with you, at home."

Her growl was not pleasant. Moments ticked by. "You set a fine example, you and that Fox of yours."

"Next time you visit, send me a letter ahead of time and I will rearrange my life to suit your sensibilities." I took a breath and reconsidered my words. Sarcasm does not suit me well. "My apologies; that was uncalled for."

"This is your fault," she murmured, staring up the street. "You ruined her life. She is the way she is because of you."

I started to frame another surly comment and thought better of it. "I have not even seen her in over two decades. I never knew if she lived or died, was ill or well. When she graduated from Secondary School. She had a child and I did not discover that until last night, and that was my mother's doing. You never allowed me to know so much as if she still existed. I live the width of the continent and a world away. How could this possibly be my fault?"

Dahlia rose and stared at me. Something was turning over in her mind, but I had no idea what it was. She bit her lip, and for an instant I thought I saw the tall, beautiful woman who walked into my office all those years ago. "You drove us away," she snarled.

"I continued the same life I had before you appeared. You knew what I did for a living. You were even in one of my classes. What did I do that changed? What signal act of my doing drove the two of you away? Was I ever unkind to you or to Chena? Did I publicly berate you or privately abuse you? I was always there. You knew where I was at all times. I worked reasonable hours at the school by choice so I might spend my time with my family. Tell me, Dahlia, what one thing did I do? What should I have done differently?"

She stared at me, lips tight, jaw clenched, ears pasted back against her scalp, eyes slitted. She began to open her mouth to speak, thought better of it and then marched back into the house. Into my house.

~*~

But it's a long, long while from May to December
Will the clover ring last till you reach September?
And I'm not quite equipped for the waiting game
But I have a little money and I have a little fame
And the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days I'd spend with you
These precious days I'd spend with you

Some years ago, a disgruntled employee at a George's shop told me that Elna George was the most horrid woman she had ever met. It seems that the employee, who happened to be Human, had taken a dressing down from the chain's owner just a few hours before. I asked her the nature of her infraction and noted that she still seemed to be employed. It was actually a minor offense, but to be singled out for attention by Elna George herself was a dunning experience.

"Consider this," I suggested, "Grow up in her kitchen and her shop and tell me, fifty years later, how awful the woman is."

"How would you know?" No sooner had the words left her mouth then she stared at me. "You did, didn't you? She is your..."

I nodded. "My best suggestion to you is to take whatever... advice... she gave you to heart."

A bit over a year later I had the occasion to visit the same city again. I stopped in at the shop partly because I like the atmosphere and partly because to me, whatever they serve is comfort food. The fact that I never have to pay has nothing to do with my choice.

I did not expect to see the server again, so I was surprised that she greeted me at the door not as a server, but as the Head Waitress. "Welcome back, Mr. Bear. Where would you like to sit?"

"The back area has a lovely view of the harbor."

"It does." She tucked a menu under her arm and briskly led me to the rear of the shop.

"Has your opinion of my mother changed?"

She flashed a smile. "This is my last week in this shop. On Monday, I start as the Manager in the main New Haven shop." That shop also happened to be the District Office. "Your mother came in three weeks ago and we had a long talk. She gave me the assignment then. She told me I would either sink or swim. Either way, I was on my own."

Apparently, she took the advice.

Chena, Autumn, Ruetha and Ame returned from their walk and took up residency at the picnic table once more. Mother came down the back steps. She was wearing a printed Jersey with the shop logo and the legend, "YES, I AM AN OLD SOW. I ALSO OWN THE PLACE." In case there was ever any doubt on either account.

As Mother sat at the table, Ame patted her paw. "I love your Jersey."

"One of my employees had it made for me. I like it, too -- it makes a statement."

"ITFB?"

Mother frowned, puzzled.

"I am the freaking boss."

Mother actually laughed; Autumn looked up and joined in. "Thank you, yes. Now I need another shirt made."

"Give me your size and color. A friend at work does silk screening."

Mother nodded, scribbled a note on the back of her calling card and handed it to Kosame. Ame started to hand her one of her own cards. She stopped, wrote her cellular phone number on the card and proffered it again. It was printed in raised letters over a faint image of the Hospital, taken from the air. Mam read the card and tucked it into her scrip. "I should have some new cards made," Mother observed, "The Human ones look... impressive."

Ame turned her palms up. "You may have them printed on any shade stock, with any color ink and with any image you may think of. Since it is all managed digitally, it is very flexible."

Mam tapped the table thoughtfully. "Wilson, can you speak to Arla about designing new cards? She is the artist in the family, and you are so good with analytics." I spent all those years as a student and an instructor, and I am "Good with analytics."

"Of course, Mother. We will work it out before you leave for West Hartford."

"Excellent!" she beamed, "This is why I am always proud of my family."

"He has his uses," Ame observed. Chena, catching the more subtle meaning, rolled her eyes with a smirk.

Dahlia chose that moment to approach us. Ame and Chena rose, nervously. Mother stayed seated, staring her down, her face stony. "No, stay, please. This... concerns you." She took a breath, squeezing her eyes shut. "Wilson, you... it was not your fault. I expected you to do something, be someone you were never meant to be." The pause told of her inner struggle. "When I went home, that was my choice. I knew what your world was like when we were hand-fasted. I should have expected no more." She looked at Ame, perhaps for the first time, "When I broke our hand-fast, I gave up any right I had to criticize you or the decisions you made. It was my responsibility to let you know how Chena was doing. That must change now. I think -- I feel -- she is making the right decision, for herself and for Autumn." She stood, biting her lip, biding her time.

Mother caught my eye, her brows raised questioningly. Even Autumn seemed to be holding her breath. This was not the continuation of accusations I had expected. "I appreciate you being so candid, Dahlia. Thank you for admitting that I was not responsible for Chena's decisions. It pleases me that you are willing to accept that she is an adult and capable of making up her own mind."

Dahlia clasped her paws and effectively bowed out of the group, returning to the house. I watched her mount the steps, for a moment seeing the Bear I knew in another time, another world, A dark brown paw reached out to tweak my cheek ruff, bringing me back to the present time and the present company. "It is over, Wils," Ame reminded me, "Everything is back the way it should have been."

"Not everything. Were that the case, I never would have met you." I patted her paw, then clasped it in my own.

I smiled gently at my great-daughter as I dandled her on my lap. "One thing I do not understand, Chena. Infant Bears are usually born in the late Spring or early Summer in the Northern Hemisphere. Why did you name her Autumn?"

My daughter's eyes twinkled as she watched her own daughter touch Ame's nose with a pudgy paw. "Oh, Da, she was not born in the Autumn. That is when she was conceived."


_{The verse that accompanies this story is from the song September Song, from the musical Knickerbocker Holiday. Lyrics by Maxwell Anderson, music by Kurt Weill.}

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Thursday Prompt - 05-28-2020

by Thursday_Prompt

“If I do not write to empty my mind, I go mad.” - George Gordon Byron

Be sure to place the link for your completed story in the comments section of this post so we can find it.

You might consider making your own TP icon to announce your story as such. Readers watch for this and will respond.

If you do to participate in the Thursday Prompt remember that is good form to read your fellow participants. If you wish to give a critique ask if the writer wishes one and then send it along in a private note.

Always remember: we are all writers together.

This week’s prompt is given to us by a random word generator: stability

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I actually started writing this piece for the Thursday Prompt - 09-28-2017. Almost three years ago. Once I finished it, the floodgates opened and I'm churning out stories.

Did Wilson achieve stability in his life? I think he did. I also think his mother likes to deliberately try to upset his balance, just to watch him regain his equilibrium.