Chapter 132

Sarah POV

I opened the earliest of Olivia’s journals, back when she was a teenager. I knew I wanted to hear about insecurities, but I didn’t care about my motives. Zane had given these to me to read, and I intended to read them all.

I can’t believe how fun the moon hunt was, even thought I didn’t really participate. That will come later, I guess. I mean, that’s what people say.

It’s so odd, my being groomed to be a pack alpha. I don’t want to be one. Who would?

It’s all about signing this and speaking at that. It sounds horrible. And that’s only if I actually get to be a pack alpha and not the mate of a pack alpha. Can you imagine?

OMG, that would really be the worst. I’d have to walk along behind the real pack alpha and bow and scrape and agree with anything they said. Would I ever be allowed to have my own opinion?

And there’s the fact I would be the one bearing the children. Just how many would some pack expect me to bear? What if I didn’t actually want pups?

The whole thing sucks, if you ask me. This is just bullshit on a silver platter, which just means it’s bullshit.

I laughed. Who would have thought I’d share fellow feeling with Olivia Cavendish?

Although, she wasn’t Olivia Cavendish when the journal started. She was Olivia MacClare. I read a few more pages about how much she hated dress fittings and her “nasty” cousin Nathan.

Oh, my goddess, the worst, the absolute worst happened today. I had to give a fucking speech about SANITATION! Can you believe it?? I spoke about POOP!!

The worst part was that some jackass in the press pool asked me about how I felt about becoming a voice of my own. Like, I would really choose to speak about shit for my first public address???

I should throw myself off a cliff or something. Honestly.

I sobered a bit then, thinking about how this lively teenager ended up dying in childbirth. And what was that all about, anyway? Who just died in childbirth these days?

I asked Mom just to leave me alone tonight, and I’m so grateful she did. It’s becoming increasingly clear I’m to marry Zane Cavendish and an co-pack alpha of his territory once he comes of age.

I’ve seen him a couple of times. He seems nice, and he’s super-handsome, just like everyone says.

But so what? I’m just supposed to be fine getting mated to some stranger? What if he’s some sort of a pervert?

I turned the page and found the next entry was a week later.

I had to speak in public again! IMG, but I hated it. What the hell is the matter with people? Can’t they tell I totally don’t want to be there?

Seriously, I’d rather give birth in front of a herd of cows than crack some lame joke in front of the press, and who wouldn’t understand that who has half a brain?

OK, it was official. Olivia and I would have been great friends in another world.

My phone beeped. I needed to be at the opening of a wolf-human orphanage vaguely connected to the Abrigan Mine. Thankfully, I wasn’t to make a speech, just stand in the background and clap for whoever said whatever.

I would be back before the girls returned from school, so I put on my brown suit and went out to Ollie with a smile. He gave me his usual stone-faced nod, and I confess I was grateful. The ride to the orphanage was quiet, and I collected myself before stepping out to a flurry of flashbulbs.

Honestly, with digital cameras these days, did they really need to flash those things in everyone’s face?

Melissa Thibodaux was there, as I had been warned, and we met in front of the cameras with a handshake and warm, even affectionate smiles. At that moment, I confess, I could not think of a worse waste of time.

“Melissa!” one of the press members called out. I realized he looked vaguely familiar. “A quick question?”

She nodded.

“New York Times,” he said, which is when I recognized him. “This would seem to be just another orphanage. Why are you here?”

I kind of agreed, but I made sure my face looked excited and engaged.

“Just another orphanage?” she asked, striking the perfect note of astonishment. “We’re talking about children, pups and kids, who have no one else in their lives, no one, not an aunt or a cousin or even a family friend, who wants to take them into their household. There’s no one who wants to step up and take care of them through no fault of their own at all.

“The Davidson Chapel of Children of the Goddess, a subsidiary of Feed the World’s Children, is offering up sixty beds, and with those beds comes not just food and healthcare but also education and emotional support.”

“You mean therapy, whether they like it or not!” some gamma shouted from the back row.

I wanted to step up to the microphone, but I left it to Melissa, and I was glad I did as she gave the beta woman a narrow gaze. “This is not some sort of spiritual camp or clinic, and if you report otherwise you are a fear-mongering hack. All this institution seeks to do is house and support these children, kids and pups, until they either matriculate into a school on their own or are adopted by a family who wants them.”

“And you’re for this, Miss Sarah?” a gamma male shouted from the back.

Melissa gave way so I could comfortably join her at the podium to say, “The children involved here have very simple needs for a loving and devoted family.”

“It’s simple to be a loving family, then?” the same gamma demanded.

I shook my head. “There’s a great difference between being simple and being easy, as I know that you know. I can say that going to Mars is simply a matter of getting there, and I’d be right. That doesn’t make it easy.

“No,” I said. “The children here have straight-forward needs of love and a good home life, but I’m not for a moment suggesting that’s an easy thing to provide. With a little lucky and good spirits, we’ve find families for these children, and then for the children after that.”

“So you admit there’s no end to orphan children who will be a drain on our system?” some other reporter I didn’t see demanded.

“You’re asking about an ‘end’ to a need?” I asked, hiding how angry the question made me as best I could. “If you buy a houseplant, is there an ‘end’ to how much water it needs? If you rescue a dog or cat, will they have an ‘end’ to their feeding or grooming?

“The sixty children who will take up the beds at the Davidson Chapel of Children of the Goddess will never have an ‘end’ to their needs, and neither will the sixty I hope take their place afterward.”

I realized I was hogging Melissa’s time and nodded to her. She put her face to mine even as she put an arm around my waist, keeping me from leaving the shot.

“Sarah is right. I hope, I can just call you ‘Sarah’?”

I nodded.

“This orphanage is not about ending a need,” she continued. “This is about putting children in the line to get the services they need.”

She cleared her throat somewhat pointedly. “And I would like to remind everyone that there are a lot of would-be parents out there looking for children to love and raise as their own? The more public, the more visible we can make facilities like this, the better it is for everyone.”

There was an odd sort of pause, so I smiled and added, “Absolutely.”

We got a round of applause after that and left the stage together. I wanted to share a few words with Thibodaux about what we had said, but she was instantly swallowed up by her entourage, members of the press, people just randomly holding up cell phones, and who knew what else? I watched her go with a rueful smile and then tried to forget about the whole thing.

Then I reminded myself that we’d probably done a good thing, the two of us together, in promoting the orphanage and adoption in general.

But then I had to confess to myself the whole thing had really pissed me off.