Saving Her Bear: The Bears of Blackrock, #1

By Michaela Carr

Catherine Calhoun never thought she'd set foot back in Blackrock, Maine. Yet, it seems family drama back home had other ideas, and she's forced to flee to the quiet town she left so long ago. 

Yet the town of Blackrock isn't the only thing she left behind.

John Fenn, hotheaded and handsome son of the mysterious Fenn family, was the closest she'd ever come to true love. Despite decades passing since last she set foot in Blackrock, the mere notion of him sends her heart racing. Sure, the whole town speaks of the Fenns in whispers. They've known tragedy one time too many, drawing the suspicion of both county and Sheriff's department. Yet, when Catherine lays eyes on her old flame, long dormant feelings boil to the surface, and there is no denying them. 

And it seems John is feeling the heat, too. Yet, as the wounds of Blackrock and the Fenn family reopen, Catherine finds she may well lose her beloved John to the same darkness that drove them apart all those years ago. Can she survive the dangers of Blackrock, or will Saving Her Bear be the last thing she ever does?

Content Warning: Dark and steamy love scenes and saucy language. Intended for mature audiences.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chaos Press
• Release date: May 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386125969

Book preview

PROLOGUE

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JOHN

The frayed edge of the rope swing sent ripples across the surface as the lake. It swayed as though calling to the boys to come play, swaying despite the air being deathly still. Yet, John wasn’t there to play.

No one was.

Go on back to the car, baby, his mother called, her high-waisted jeans rolled up to her knees as she waded further into the water. His grandfather was nowhere to be seen. He’d been diving under the surface all morning, long before the rest of the family arrived.

John frowned, glancing toward his younger brother, Deacon. They’d asked to go into the water more than once, but each of the Fenn grown-ups offered a stern denial, then turned their attention back to the water.

Why can’t we go swimming? Deacon asked of their father who sat stoic in the front seat of the wagon as John approached the car.

Their father tilted his head to the side in a sad shrug. Your grandfather is worried that it might not be safe, right now.

Why wouldn’t it be safe? Deacon said, his pitch rising to a whine. John didn’t blame him. It was a beautiful afternoon for a swim, and the lake was abandoned, save for the entire Fenn family trudging the water as though they’d dropped some treasured heirloom on their last visit.

John was almost a year older than Deacon, and on most days, Deacon was the calmer of Janice and Carl’s boys. Yet, today something heavy festered in the pit of John’s stomach.

He turned to watch the surface of the water. His uncle Terry had made his way out to chest deep and was diving down on the far side of the lake, now. After a long moment, John’s grandfather surfaced out in the middle of the lake, took a monstrous breath, then disappeared back down again.

What are they looking for, Dad?

His father shot him a sideways look, his expression as still as stone. He held his gaze for a long moment, then turned back to the lake. I don’t know, buddy. Why don’t you climb in here and find me something on the radio, yeah?

John didn’t move, turning back to watch as his cousin Kirk ignored Aunt Deirdre’s protests and pulled his shirt off. Kirk was only a sophomore in high school, but he looked as grown as the rest of the Fenn men. An instant later, the older Fenn cousin was barreling past his mother and diving into the lake, as well, his dark head bobbing in and out of sight as he swam across the breadth of it to join his father, Terry.

John’s stomach tightened.

No one had to say it aloud. It was an ominous knowledge that seemed to float in the air – something was very wrong with the lake.

Something that pertained to the Fenn family, alone.

John heard a stern voice from further down the shore and caught sight of Kirk’s younger brother, Tiernan trying to follow his brother’s example, but unlike Kirk, Tiernan hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet, and Deirdre was able to stop him in his tracks.

John clenched his fists, fighting the urge to follow his cousin, as well – to be of some use. Still, what good would an eleven-year-old boy be to the grown men of the Fenn family?

Mom! I’m getting hot in here, Deacon called from the back seat of the wagon. Janice barely looked up from the surface of the water.

She was waist deep now.

We got company, John’s father called, drawing attention to the road.

A beat-up Oldsmobile was cruising down the bend, its rusting frame as familiar as the face of a family friend.

The energy of everyone in his family changed, a tension that seemed to ripple across the water toward him. Still, John’s heart raced at the sight.

The massive car curved into a spot beside his father’s car, and the figures inside jostled from the sudden stop.

John locked eyes with a familiar face; Bodie Calhoun. He offered John a raised eyebrow and a grin, but it was the back side door that flew open.

John! Catie Calhoun called, clamoring to get out of the Oldsmobile in her pink and green watermelon covered bathing suit. Her dirty blonde hair was long and messy, and she already had her goggles on her head to swim, but she’d completely forgotten the water, it seemed.

She ran up to John and threw her arms around him for a hug.

John hugged her back, and she stiffened, pulling away to look at his face. What’s wrong with you?

Catie frowned at him. She was his favorite person in the world outside his family. He spent all his time in school with her, and they’d learned to ice skate together on that very lake years before. Still, he liked teasing her, and he didn’t want her to know how much he liked her company.

People might think he liked her or something.

He couldn’t have that.

Still, he hadn’t wriggled against her affection or made barfing sounds – his usual teasing response to her company.

He shook his head.

She paused but shook off the strangeness. Come on! I dared Bennie to do the rope swing. You gotta tell him it’s really not so hard. He’s being a chicken.

I’m not being a chicken! Bennie said as he rounded the front of the car. Bennett Calhoun was in their class, but he was bigger than both of them, his belly the thickest part of him.

The rope swing was tied high in the branches of an oak tree, and it hung just low enough to graze the water where the bottom dropped to ten feet deep. Anyone who wanted to swing had to pull the attached string and drag the rope up onto the shore, then climb a great bolder that stood towering over the water. From there, brave souls could swing out and go sailing into the lake with a splash.

John worried that Bennett wouldn’t be able to hold himself up long enough to breach the shore’s edge and might crash onto the beach instead.

John had seen it happen before.

It wouldn’t kill him, but it sure wouldn’t be pretty.

You are. I promise you can do it! Catie assured him.

Bodie came around to the wagon, offering a handshake to John’s father. How’s it going there, Carl?

John’s father forced a smile, and the two men began talking Baseball. John sighed, glancing toward Deacon to share an annoyed glance. They both hated Baseball.

Their Dad didn’t care much for it, either.

Despite Bodie’s friendly effort that morning, John knew it was just for show. It didn’t matter how close he was to Catherine Calhoun, Bodie shared the same wary view of the Fenn family that much of Blackrock did.

John never wholly understood why the kids at his school weren’t allowed to come out to his house, or why he had to have his birthday parties in Machias if he wanted anyone to come.

He’d asked his parents why the kids were wary of he and his brother, or why cars would throw things at the gate that closed the Fenn land off from the rest of the world.

Their answer was always the same – ever since his great uncle was found dead in the harbor, people looked sideways at anyone to share his name.

Though it resulted in very few birthday party invites of his own, it was better to be suspected of something untrue than for people to fear the Fenn family for what they really were.

No one could ever know that.

Not even Catherine.

Watch me, Bennie! I’ll show you!

John spun around just in time to watch Catherine Calhoun launch off the boulder, the frayed rope clamped between her legs as she swung out past his mom and dropped into the water with a massive splash.

A second later, she surfaced, a wide dimpled grin on her face. See! I told you!

Bennett was still standing near John, his whole-body tense. I don’t know.

Catie swam up to shore, hollering her assurances, but before she could march back up the hill, a shrill sound shattered the calm scene, drawing everyone’s eyes to the water.

Out toward the far side of the lake, Terry and Grampy Fenn were struggling with something in the water. John froze as his mother screamed again and charged into the lake, flailing her arms as she fought to move faster. Soon she was swimming across the middle of the water, still wailing with every stroke and breath. John began to fear his mother would drown, and he lunged toward the shore, ready to use every ounce of his 4H camp swimming lessons to save her.

A wide-palmed hand took hold of his shoulder, and an instant later, John’s father had lifted him off the ground, carrying him back toward the station wagon.

John’s heart began to pound even harder, now. His father hadn’t picked him up like that in years.

Something was horribly wrong, and even Bodie Calhoun was gathering his flock back into the car.

Dad! We have to get Mom! He screamed, tears streaming down his face. Instead of listen, John’s father planted him into the backseat of the car, buckling him in beside his younger brother. Deacon was upset to see John in tears, and instantly he began to cry as well, begging to know what was wrong.

John stopped begging. He simply craned his head over the front seat to watch the lake and the shapes gathering on the far end.

His mother was scrambling toward the opposite shore now, Uncle Terry and Grampy carrying something between them up onto the beach.

John watched them set what looked like a naked woman onto the sand just as his father climbed into the driver’s seat and turned over the engine.

The Oldsmobile was pulling out ahead of them, but their wagon was in the street an instant later, its tires grinding in the gravel.

John pressed his face to the window and watched the figures in the distance. John heard his mother scream again, and Grampy dropped to his knees and pulled the motionless woman to his chest, her blonde hair falling over his arms.

Blonde hair.

John turned to watch his father’s expression in the rear-view mirror, his tears suddenly stilled.

Dad, he said. Where’s Aunt Ally?

The eyes in the rear view spilled over with tears, and he knew.

That day would be the end of his childhood.

CHAPTER ONE

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CATHERINE

J ust come home, honey. We can figure this all out.

Catherine stood just outside the rest area convenience store waiting for her cousin Bennett to return from his snack and potty run. She held the phone to her ear with a strange tension in her stomach. She hadn’t wanted to hear her mother’s voice again so soon.

No, I’m not coming home.

Her mother made a huffing sound on the other end of the line. You’re being ridiculous! I know Charlie can get a little out of hand sometimes, but it’s all settled now. It’s all settled and – you know Grampy doesn’t need you coming up there and putting him out like that.

Catherine closed her eyes. This was a fear she harbored, but there was a truth she wasn’t willing to share about going back north to Maine. There was more there than just Grampy Calhoun’s potential guest bedroom.

Mom, if I had any other choice, believe me, I wouldn’t be looking to stay with Grampy.

Does he even know you’re coming? Has Bennett asked his father if you’re even welcome? Damn it, Catie! Just come back before you upset everybody.

Never. I will never set foot in that house again.

Linda Calhoun groaned on the other end of the line. How am I gonna take care of the house? What am I supposed to do?

Catherine’s eyes were welling up. Hearing her mother try to guilt her into coming home was both infuriating and heartbreaking. Why couldn’t she see what she was doing?

You lied! You lied for that piece of shit, and I almost went to fucking jail. Your house can burn to the ground for all I care!

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Don’t say that, Catie. It’s not my fault -

Bennett appeared at her shoulder, and Catherine practically deflated in relief. We’re getting back on the road. Goodbye, Mom. Goodbye!

She hung up, turning to receive the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups Bennett had snagged for her.

She smiled up at her cousin. Thank you.

Bennett nodded, then started back toward the truck. You almost went to jail?

Catherine glared at him. Don’t.

They piled back into the truck, and a few moments later, Catherine’s new friend Jean returned from the restroom. They were off, hauling ass out of Kennebunk the way only Bennett could, his mighty engine growling up the onramp of Route 95. Catherine had to ignore four calls from her mother by the time they were coming into Bangor.

You’ve never been this far north?

Bennett was glancing into his rearview mirror at Jean Trainor, giving her more attention than Catherine would like. She didn’t mind that he was chatting her up, what she minded was that he wouldn’t keep his damn eyes on the road.

Benny! Catherine shrieked as they veered a little too close to the guardrail.

He straightened, scoffing at her. Calm down, cuz. I’m not gonna kill us. Jesus.

Yeah, then quit acting like it.

No, I’ve never been this far north. Pretty sure I’ve never been past Old Orchard Beach, Jean said, leaning her blonde head over the front seat to be a part of the conversation. She gave Catherine’s shoulder a quick scratch to show her solidarity. Catherine wasn’t the only one hoping Bennett would keep them alive.

Bennett whistled. Well, then you’re in for a treat. This is what real Maine looks like.

Catherine laughed. They were in the no man’s land of Route 9 between Bangor and Cherryfield. There was nothing to praise here save for trees and more trees – and maybe a couple dilapidated barns.

It looks lovely, Jean offered.

Bennett shook his head. Wait ‘til we get to camp. Acadia’s got nothing on Blackrock.

Catherine didn’t disagree. Still, she’d grown up around these parts, where the nearest Target or Home Depot was at least an hour and a half drive.

Blackrock was almost