Wingspan Page 3

  “Just what I need,” Sue said, linking her arm with Bailey’s as they walked into the house. “Hey, gorgeous.” Sue acknowledged the redtail as they passed her cage on the way to the kitchen. “So, Bailey, what do you have for me?”

  “An evening grosbeak,” Bailey said. She gathered the papers she had strewn across the kitchen table and stacked them to one side, putting a bag of mealworms on top of the pile. “He had some deep cuts, probably from a cat. I cleaned them and stitched the worst of them. I don’t know if he’ll make it.”

  Bailey stopped tidying up and rubbed her stinging eyes. She had been up all night watching the small songbird, so fragile and delicate compared to her usual raptor patients. She had sat across the room and stared at the still form of the bird, willing him to survive until morning.

  “First things first,” Sue said. “Let’s take a look at him, and then we’ll have that cup of coffee.”

  “He’s here in the pantry.” Bailey opened the door next to her fridge. “I was worried he’d think he was going to be lunch if I kept him anywhere near my other patients.”

  Sue knelt and took the lid off the box, expertly catching the bright yellow bird. She splayed his black-striped wing and peered at Bailey’s work.

  “Beautiful job on these stitches,” she said with a nod. She put the bird back and covered the box in one quick motion. “He’ll heal just fine, don’t you worry. Long way from the heart.”

  “But he’s so quiet,” Bailey protested. “I thought he was dead when I checked on him this morning.”

  “You’re used to those vultures and raptors of yours. Ready to vomit on you or claw your eyes out every time you come near them. The songbirds are different.” Sue sat at the kitchen table with a tired-sounding sigh. “This little guy is just lonely, but I have a crossbill that’s all alone in my small flight cage. I’m sure they’ll be besties before long.”

  Sue’s confidence was exactly what Bailey had needed. She pulled a bag of locally roasted coffee beans out of her freezer and ground enough for two double espressos. She and Sue referred people to each other, directing raptors and songbirds to the appropriate rehab facility or—as was the case with the grosbeak—taking care of emergency care for the other when needed. The grosbeak had been left in a shoebox by her gate, and Sue had been unable to get here until this afternoon. Bailey had, of course, worked on small birds before, but their delicacy always made her nervous.

  She poured some milk into a stainless steel pitcher, bypassing the skim and going straight for the whole milk, and heated it until it grew frothy and thick. Sue seemed matter-of-fact and unaffected by the plight of the little grosbeak, but Bailey knew the truth. She wouldn’t be doing this job if she didn’t care. Bailey brought the cappuccinos and a box of Oreos to the table and sat down, her sigh echoing the one Sue had made earlier.

  “What a treat,” Sue said, pushing the mealworms aside so she could reach the sugar bowl. She put a heaping spoonful in her coffee and passed the bowl to Bailey, who did the same. “Plus, Jim’s parents have the kids for the weekend, so I’m really in heaven.”

  “I don’t know how you do it,” Bailey said, dunking a cookie in her coffee and watching the dark chocolate specks flake onto the white foam. Sue had three kids under eight years old, plus a husband and an endless flock of resident birds. Bailey could barely care for herself and her patients, let alone a family.

  “Truthfully? I don’t either. But they all help, out of necessity.” Sue laughed and picked up a second Oreo. “You should see us at night. All sitting in front of the television with a bird or two on our laps, worms and seeds spilling everywhere. Crazy. But somebody’s got to do it.”

  Crazy? It sounded perfect to Bailey. She would have loved to grow up in a household like Sue’s. Chaotic and messy and more avian than human. A family gathered together with little bits of feather and heartbeat on their laps. She drank her strong coffee and wiped a mustache of foam off her upper lip.

  “Do you have a minute to read something?” she asked, changing the subject from family life to her professional one. She pulled the stack of papers toward her. “I have to teach a two-week seminar every term as part of my deal with WSU, starting with the summer session. I wrote some notes for the first class, and I’d like your opinion.”

  “You’re so lucky,” Sue said. “All those vet students helping you clean cages and feed. Getting to teach classes and shape the young minds of future rehabbers—”

  “Really?” Bailey asked in disbelief. “I’m dreading it.”

  “All that lovely money,” Sue continued, undeterred by Bailey’s interruption. “The new surgical room and bigger flight cages…”

  “Well, I do like those parts of it,” Bailey said. The cost of them was too great, though. But she’d sacrifice her precious time and solitude for her birds.

  Sue shook her head. “Okay, I’ll put my jealousy aside and help you, but only if you send an occasional intern over to my house to clean bird shit. Preferably a handsome male intern.”

  “You can have all of them,” Bailey said. Male or female, she didn’t care. She wasn’t looking for dates, and she didn’t want some inept students mucking about with her birds. “I decided to do my first seminar on removing foreign objects from birds.”

  “Charming,” Sue said with a grimace.

  “It’s a big part of what we do. Plastic, fishing wire, BBs. That sort of thing.”

  “You’re right. Why don’t you give me the lecture instead of having me read your notes?”

  Bailey took a gulp of her coffee and cleared her throat. She was nervous enough reading to Sue. She didn’t know how she’d handle having a room full of students staring at her while she spoke. She loved talking about birds—anything to do with birds—but she knew from experience that her audiences never were as interested as she was. A few people were, like Sue and some of the women Bailey met at wildlife rehab conferences, but not many. Bailey had figured out how to curb her zealous enthusiasm for all things avian somewhere during fourth grade, but she had already established a reputation as an oddball since the same students had followed her through junior high and high school in the small town of Bremerton. She hadn’t really minded, being content to keep her all-consuming hobby to herself unless she found a kindred spirit like Sue, but now she was being forced to do exactly what she had learned the hard way not to do. Talk birds.

  Once she started, however, she lost herself in the subject. What did she think these kids were going to do, anyway? Steal her lunch money or pull her hair? She was thirty-two and they were students. She’d be fine as long as she kept talking. Her speech sounded a little too fast to her ears, probably fueled by the caffeine. But her attentiveness was still dulled by lack of sleep, and she was describing in intricate detail how to remove plastic pop-bottle rings from a bird’s neck when she realized Sue was waving her hand and trying to interrupt.

  “What? Did I say something wrong?”

  Sue rubbed a hand over her mouth, as if she was stalling while she searched for the right words. “No. Your knowledge of the subject is very…thorough. But you might want to work on your delivery. Add some pauses now and then for questions, and make eye contact. You’re reciting information in a monotone, and your students might lose interest. You want to entertain them.”

  “Entertain them? But it’s a lecture. I’m supposed to teach them what I know.”

  “Of course, but just break it up a bit. Maybe add a joke or two.”

  “A joke?”

  “A humorous story intended to make people laugh,” Sue said, shaking her head. “Don’t look so horrified. I’m sure once you get in front of the students, you’ll relax and have fun with it.”

  Bailey was sure of the exact opposite reaction. The students would laugh at her, not with her. She’d make a fool of herself. Maybe she could back out now, while she still had some pride and dignity left. “I don’t think I know any jokes.”

  “Okay, not jokes then. But tell some humorous anecdotes. I’m s
ure you have a million of them.”

  Bailey rubbed her forehead. This was more complicated than she had expected. It had taken her weeks to find the energy and time to sit down and write lecture notes. Now she had to add inflection and comedic timing to the task? The whole WSU mess was turning into a joke on her, but the punch line felt more like a punch in the stomach. She dimly heard a car pull up outside the house, but she didn’t feel like moving. Someone had come through the gate she’d left open when Sue had arrived. Yet another person or bird here to make demands on her.

  Sue got up and moved the kitchen curtain aside. “Oh, yum,” she said. She dropped the curtain back in place and went to the pantry door. “Thanks for the coffee, Bailey dear, but I think I’ll take this little guy home now and leave you alone to take care of your visitor.”

  Bailey peered out the window at the fancy little sports car and the equally impressive woman who was climbing out of it. Long legs, sharp clothes, and refined features. Bailey’s mind echoed Sue’s yum even as she noticed the vivid contrast between her rundown property and the obviously well-off newcomer.

  “She must be lost,” Bailey said to Sue. “Stay here and finish your coffee. I’ll give her directions and send her on her way.”

  Chapter Three

  Ken drove slowly up the gravel driveway. The road was filled with potholes and nearly overgrown by brush. She winced as a branch from a shrub scraped against the side of her car. The damned bird had better appreciate what she was sacrificing to bring him to this place. She parked in front of the huge old house and sat in the car for a moment. She hoped she was actually doing the bird a favor by taking him here. The setting would be perfect for a Halloween haunted house, ramshackle and rambling, with chipped paint and a broken shutter hanging askew on one of the front windows. She considered taking her passenger somewhere else, but she could see two enormous mesh cages in the yard beside the house. The grass in this area had been neatly trimmed, and the cages appeared roomy and clean. There was no sign anywhere identifying this as the Chase Raptor Rehabilitation Center, but she could see several large birds perched on limbs inside the mesh walls. As she watched, one of them soared smoothly to a higher perch from which it regarded her warily.

  Ken had seen birds of prey in the sky and a few in zoos, but something about the birds in these cages stirred her. They were wild—she could almost feel their yearning to get out and be free—biding time here until they were healed enough to be released. A transition place, between two worlds, and whoever was taking care of them seemed to have made their welfare a priority. Yard and house be damned, all attention and effort seemed to have been lavished on the birds.

  “I guess this is your best chance, birdie,” she said. Her passenger didn’t answer. It had been frighteningly silent during the entire drive, and Ken had a sinking feeling she’d open the box and it would be dead. Had she aggravated its injury when she stuffed it in the box? Stressed it out during the long drive? She sighed and stepped out of her car. Might as well find out. And then let a professional deal with the wounded creature while she got back to her own life. She preferred wood and stone to fragile flesh-and-feathers creatures.

  Ken carefully shut her car door and walked to the passenger side. She paused with her hand on the door when two women came out of the house. The first one, wearing Birkenstocks, capri-length gray sweatpants, and a faded Seattle Seahawks jersey, caught and held Ken’s attention. She looked like a teenager, but once she was close Ken saw she was in her early thirties. Auburn hair was pulled into a slightly off-center ponytail, and pale skin accentuated the dark circles under her eyes. Tired, uneasy eyes, almost the same glossy red-brown of her hair. The woman didn’t have on even a hint of makeup—in fact, it looked as if there had been few intermediary steps between bed and being in public. Unpolished and slightly eccentric, but with a natural elegance and beauty that her old, baggy clothes couldn’t hide.

  “I’m Ken,” she said, forcing herself to acknowledge both women, although her focus remained on the one closest to her. The other woman answered first.

  “I’m Sue, but I’m leaving.” Sue put a box, much like the one Ken had brought, in the front seat of her Buick. Another bird in transport? Convenient. One out, and Ken’s could move in. She waved as Sue drove past her car and continued down the driveway.

  “Bailey Chase.” Bailey looked at the hand Ken offered for a moment before she moved closer and shook it. She glanced at the dust cloud made by Sue’s car, as if she wanted to follow it down the road.

  “Nice to meet you, Dr. Chase.” Ken struggled to keep her expression neutral when Bailey came near, bringing a powerful acidic scent with her. The odor quickly shifted her from eccentric to weird.

  Bailey moved away again. “You can call me Bailey. And I’m sorry about the smell,” she said. Apparently Ken hadn’t been as successful at hiding her reaction as she’d hoped. “A vulture threw up on me this morning. I haven’t had a chance to shower yet.”

  “A vulture. Threw up on you,” Ken repeated. She had to laugh at what was probably the most absurd statement anyone had ever said to her. She tried to imagine how Ginny would have reacted if the vulture had chosen her as its target instead of the apparently unperturbed Bailey. Ginny would have required hospitalization and a handful of valium.

  “Occupational hazard,” Bailey said, a protective tone creeping into her voice. “It’s a defense mechanism. He was injured and frightened.”

  All right, crazy bird lady. “Will he be okay?” Ken asked, to be polite. She wasn’t sure why someone would go out of her way to rescue a defensive and stinky vulture, but the bird seemed to matter to Bailey.

  “He was tangled on some fishing line and it took me a few hours to catch him, so he was very stressed. He has some lacerations on his feet, and I had to amputate one of his talons, but he should heal well. He’s young and strong.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s good news.” Ken was about to reach out and touch Bailey’s shoulder, but she stopped herself in time so her hand only flinched. She had a feeling Bailey had been as stressed by the chase as the vulture, and she had the unexpected—and unwelcome—urge to offer some comfort. Bailey was too fragile for Ken’s tastes. Not weak, since Bailey appeared strong and healthy, and she obviously was walking her own path with her nontraditional career. But sensitive. Too sensitive. Ken had learned long ago that she couldn’t afford to care too much in return. She wasn’t strong enough to protect such a fragile soul from the harsh realities of life.

  Bailey stared at Ken, trying to decide whether she was being sincere or sarcastic. Ken looked like she understood a thing or two about defenses. Dressed in stark black and white, with her straight hair simply styled and just brushing her shoulders, she was stunning but wasn’t trying to call attention to her looks. Her turquoise eyes were expressionless, and even without crossing her arms or closing herself off, she managed to convey distance with her body language. She seemed stiff and controlled, as if she was ready to block any unwanted touch. Bailey had long ago developed the habit of scanning people’s faces and bodies for any clues about their emotional states, and if she hadn’t been paying such close attention, she would have missed the brief responses Ken revealed before carefully bringing them under control. Her small wince at the residual vulture odor. Her amusement at Bailey’s explanation.

  Now, there was no sign of emotion, so Bailey changed the subject. “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “I brought you another bird,” Ken said, seeming undeterred by Bailey’s abrupt question. She nodded toward her car. “Hopefully this one won’t vomit on you.”

  She leaned into her sports car and lifted the large box easily. “Where do you want it?” she asked.

  “Wait,” Bailey said, irked by Ken’s assumption that she would automatically take the bird. Well, she would, of course, but she wanted to be the one making the decisions. Bailey was getting tired of bossy people disrupting her chaotic but comfortable life. Vonda, WSU’s dean, and now the composed and assertive
Ken. She blocked Ken’s path as she started walking toward the flight cages. “What kind is it?”

  Ken shrugged. “A big one. I saw white, so maybe it’s an eagle?”

  Bailey sighed. The last “eagle” someone had brought had actually been a large band-tailed pigeon. She gestured toward the house. “The surgery is inside. Follow me.”

  Ken shifted the box in her hands, careful not to jar its occupant or dislodge the rock that still held it closed. She walked behind Bailey, noticing how even such baggy and unbecoming clothes managed to show off her slender figure. Who would have thought ratty old sweatpants could make an ass look so good? Too bad the woman inside the sweats was so odd. Definitely not Ken’s type. Bailey was different, while Ken was accustomed to cookie-cutter women—the type she herself aspired to be. Ken felt a momentary pang of compassion as she thought how difficult life must have been in school for oddball Bailey. Ken had been there herself, but she had learned how to fit in. And part of fitting in meant she had to avoid being connected with people on the fringe.

  Ken sidled past Bailey as she held the screen door open. She’d drop off the bird and get out of here. She had rescued it from the edge of her field, possibly pulling it back from the brink of death, but she had reached the limit of her usefulness. She might even have done more harm than good by following her misguided instincts and clumsily putting the bird in a box rather than leaving it alone. Either way, she couldn’t do any more for it, or for Bailey. Bailey only served as a reminder of how far Ken had come since junior high. And how close her new job brought her to being shoved back to the outskirts of society, where she had verged with her friends Dougie and Steve.

  The dangerous zone.

  Ken had managed to get accepted into the mainstream, and she had to be on guard so she didn’t get pegged as an outsider ever again. Once her house was built and she could get a job somewhere besides Impetus, she’d be fine. She’d find another socially acceptable girlfriend like Ginny—but maybe one who stirred her soul a little more deeply—and she’d be all set. Or maybe she’d just live by herself once she built her new home.