by Bev Prescott
Zoe was reluctant to give up the location of the nest, but she didn’t have a choice if she wanted to make her case. She pointed to the top of the tree that held it. “I don’t know what’s worse, ignoring your presence, or telling you there are two eaglets born less than a month ago in that tree.”
The women set the cooler down and gawked up at the nest. One of them said, “That’s so cool.”
At least she appeared to have the sense that this was a good thing. Maybe she would see the light and convince her friends to leave. Zoe said to her, “They’re easily disturbed and that’s why I’m asking you to go. I know the parents must be around waiting to feed them, but us being here hinders that. They’re probably close by right now, waiting for some privacy to feel secure.”
The big-bellied man snorted. “You sound like a damned tree hugger. I don’t buy that. If they were so sensitive in the first place, why would they choose to nest on an island that people use all the time? Huh?”
A tree hugger? Granted, there was some truth to that, but he didn’t have to say it like it was a bad thing. She didn’t have a problem with humans coexisting with wildlife. Cutting every tree in sight and paving the entire planet was her problem.
“Were you here in late February when they chose the island to build their nest?” Zoe asked.
“That’s a ridiculous question. Of course not. Who camps in Maine in February?”
“Definitely not someone as soft as you.”
The man folded his arms across his chest, resting them on the shelf of his wide girth. He flexed his biceps when he did. “Humph. You do-gooders think the rest of us are stupid. I watch the news. George W. took the eagle off the endangered species list when he was president. Why would he do that if they weren’t doing fine?”
Zoe zipped her lips against answering any kind of question about the former president. No good would come from that, she was sure. She’d already started to dig a hole for herself with the “soft” comment. “They’re still protected by the Bald and Golden Eagle Protection Act. It’s my opinion that your presence may disturb them, and that’s still against the law.”
The skinny man interrupted. “You’re going to have to prove it, then. Good luck with that. You didn’t find us standing over the carcass of an eagle with a smoking gun. You and I both know that unless you did, the best you get is a civil claim against us and I doubt the feds are interested in the hassle given that you can’t prove we’ve done anything wrong. The eagles are still up in the tree, and this island isn’t posted as to their presence or that trespassing isn’t allowed.” He cocked his head. “I happen to be an attorney. I’ll give you my card. You can call me on Monday. But for now, we have a day to enjoy.” He motioned to his companions. “Let’s get our picnic set up.”
One of the women looked horrified. “What if she has us arrested?”
“She doesn’t have the authority. She knows it. And I know it.” He snickered at Zoe. “Take your best shot, little lady.” He craned his neck down in her direction with more drama than necessary. “Unless you can show me that you’re the eagle police, I’m asking you to leave. Better yet, perhaps I’ll give Mr. Bastone a call and you can deal with him.”
“Fine, since you’re an attorney, I don’t have to remind you that there are some pretty hefty civil fines for disturbing nesting eagles. You’ll be taking your chances on that.”
One thing that pushed Zoe’s buttons faster than anything was a man who thought he could use his size to intimidate her. God, she despised bullies. She’d have to resort to her best weapon, her intellect. Given her size, people often underestimated her. Adversaries often let their guard down at just the right moment, which meant that if she were patient and strategic, she could slay him in one fell swoop. Getting into a tiff with him now was not going to play in her favor. For the moment, he had the upper hand and she certainly didn’t want Bastone complicating things.
One way or the other, she needed to prevent people from picnicking on the island in the future. She couldn’t order this group to leave. The only law that had enough teeth to come close to stopping them wasn’t even one that the state had any jurisdiction to enforce. The man was right. There would have to be proof that their activities were causing a disturbance, and even with evidence, the federal agency with the authority would have to be convinced to make the effort to enforce it. The best and most immediate alternative would be to convince Mr. Marcotte to close the island to any human activity altogether. Given that James would be a huge obstacle, she’d need to convince Alex to persuade her father.
“I wish you’d do the right thing and leave,” she said.
“Seems to me that if leaving was the right thing, you could make me.”
Zoe bit her lip. Patience, Kimball. She pushed her kayak off the sand into the shallow water and slid into it. Despite the dire necessity to find Alex to enlist her help, she was glad for the excuse. She ignored the voice in her head that suggested she might be getting her personal feelings mixed up with her job.
“I thought so,” the big-bellied man said.
She ignored him. He’d find out soon enough that some of the smallest creatures on the planet could also be the most dangerous.
Chapter 12
Alex ascended the dimly lit, narrow staircase leading to the library attic. The narrow space comforted her. Unlike many who suffered from anxiety, she didn’t mind being in tight places. Many offered the opportunity to vanish amid the clutter of them.
The only peace and quiet she’d been able to find since arriving back in Maine had been during her morning runs and under the chestnut tree with Zoe. She’d never taken anyone to that secret place before. To her surprise, having Zoe’s company had been more pleasant than being alone. Holding Zoe in her arms that brief moment with the puppies had the same effect. Guilt and desire told her she shouldn’t try to avoid Zoe indefinitely. Or was it that she couldn’t? With Friday on the horizon and a few days to get hold of herself, she hoped to cross paths with Zoe over the weekend.
Sally called up to her from downstairs, “The light switch is on the wall to the right at the top of the stairs. All the archived newspapers are in boxes arranged by year.”
The musty smell of old books and papers hit Alex in the face when she landed on the top step at the attic’s entry. She ran a hand along the wall and found the light switch. “Got it, thanks.”
She flipped on the light and scanned the neatly stacked boxes and plastic containers. They held a treasure trove of the town of Glasgow’s history waiting to be discovered. She reveled in the process of uncovering old truths, a way to escape her own. “I might be up here awhile,” she called to Sally.
“Not too long, I hope. The air isn’t healthy up there.”
Alex felt the tickle of mold and dust as it settled in her nose and lungs. She put a hand to her mouth and coughed. “I see what you mean.”
The single lightbulb that hung from the center of the low ceiling cast a muted yellow glow on the rows of shelves lining the walls. Thin rays of sunlight coming through the slats of the attic eaves added some illumination, but not enough. Alex turned on the flashlight she carried and aimed it at the neat handwriting on the boxes, written with a thick black marker. Nearest to her were more recent collections ranging from years 2005 to 2010.
She closed her eyes and forced in a deep, slow breath. The voice in her head warned her to avoid the year 1998, but the contents of that box seemed to rattle too loudly to be ignored. She’d come to realize that, sometimes, the only way to silence the recollections of her brother so she could sleep was to let them consume her.
Fighting was futile. One way or the other, the memories always had their way with her no matter how hard she fought them. They’d come in the night like the monster under the bed. Sometimes she’d struggle against them. Mostly, though, she was too tired and would simply give in so it could be over. But it never really was over. Her mind remained her tormenter.
Alex reached for the box and moved it closer
to the edge of the shelf so she could open it. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the flaps. A newspaper lay on top of the contents inside. She put a hand to her mouth to stifle a cry. The headline read, “The Body of Jacob Marcotte, Son of Daniel and Carolyn Marcotte, Pulled from Sebago Lake in the Early Morning Hours. His Sister, Alexandra, Questioned by Police.”
She spun around at the sound of footsteps at the top of the attic stairs.
Sally stood in the doorway. Her gaze settled on the box. “I should’ve moved that one out of your sight. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it earlier.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered. I would’ve looked for it anyway.” An edge of panic framed Alex’s voice.
“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” Sally stepped toward her. “How about a break?”
Alex closed the box and slid it back into place. “No, I’m okay. Sometimes letting myself remember is the only way I can feel close to Jake again. Besides, I’m a historian. I’m used to spending time with ghosts.”
“Ghosts are one thing, demons quite another. Sorry to disturb you. Zoe Kimball is here to see you.”
Alex wiped dust from her hands. “Did she say what she wanted?”
“No. Do you want me to ask her to come back later?”
“I’d really like to see her.”
“What was that I just saw?”
“What?” Alex glanced around the attic.
“You went from revisiting the worst day of your life to a gleam in your eye at the mention of the delightful woman downstairs. Is there something you want to tell me?” Sally poked her in the ribs. “Come to think of it, she wore the same expression when she asked for you. I saw it the other day too, when the two of you were in that tangle of puppies. If I had a nickel for each of the young women who’ve had crushes on you since you were a teenager, I’d have enough money to save every stray dog and cat in the state of Maine.”
“I hardly know her,” Alex said, amused that the only straight person in Glasgow with any kind of open acceptance for gay and lesbian people happened to be an eighty-something-year-old woman who had never missed a day of church in her life. “How is it that you came to be the most tolerant person in this town?”
Sally pointed at the box Alex had been looking at. “I saw what closed-mindedness did to your brother. It still infuriates me after all these years.” She caressed Alex’s shoulder. “All kidding about Zoe aside, I only want you to be happy. Are you going to be okay?”
“I don’t know. It’s so much harder to come home than I thought it would be. I knew it would be difficult, but my father’s barely speaking to me. And the only one whose feelings seem to matter to him is still my mother. My parents act as if Jake’s death only happened to them. They weren’t there to see what those other kids did to him. I was.” Alex stared down at the old wooden planks in the attic floor. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have opened that box. I hate myself for doing it, just like I hate myself for letting my parents treat me the way they do.”
“Oh, honey, please find a way to stop hating yourself. You always have been and always will be such a lovely soul.” Sally pursed her lips together and sighed. “I love your parents, but for the life of me, I can’t understand why they’ve done the things they’ve done to you, especially after Jake died. You’ve been protecting them by making yourself scarce around here and by taking the blame for too long for something that was never your fault.”
“I’m not protecting them.” Alex’s voice quivered. “You give me too much credit. The only thing I feel for either of them is anger.”
“Take it from me, darling, anger is a cover for what you really feel. You came home for more complicated reasons. I hope you figure them out while you’re here.” Sally put her arms around Alex and squeezed her tight. “I’m glad you’re home.” She patted her on the back. “And Zoe is awfully cute.”
The warmth of Sally’s embrace did wonders to ease the cutting pain that always came with thoughts of the day her brother died. Knowing that Zoe was downstairs waiting for her felt good too. “I don’t even know if she’s gay.”
Sally put her hands on her hips. “I may be as straight as they come, but I’m older than dirt and have been around long enough to know when a lady’s playing for the other team. And so have you.”
Alex smiled at Sally’s intuition. She was a rare soul who could dismantle a person’s façade in an instant to see their reality. “Tell her I’ll be right down. I need a minute to get my head on straight, so to speak. Okay?”
“Sure thing.” Sally gave a little snort and disappeared down the stairs.
Alex sat down on the dusty floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. She focused on her breathing. Slowly in and slowly out. Her heart rate slowed with each successive, deliberate breath. She didn’t want to let Zoe see her fragility. When she felt more in control, she rose to her feet and took her time down the stairs, gathering her composure.
Engrossed in a book, Zoe and Sally stood with their backs to her. Alex studied Zoe, whose hands were in the pockets of her heavy canvas work shorts. She wore a dark-green T-shirt and hiking boots. Her short, shaggy hair suited her easy, confident demeanor. Her backside was sure to turn the heads of men and women. Zoe had a distinctly athletic, yet feminine and very attractive build, but it was Zoe’s heart that really drew her.
“Let me guess, you’re looking at a book titled American Angels,” Alex said.
Zoe closed the book, turned, and read from the cover. “The story about everyday people who do extraordinary things to protect companion animals.”
“Did Sally show you chapter twelve?”
Zoe grinned. “You didn’t tell me such a huge celebrity lived in town.” She winked at Sally. “Chapter Twelve: Sally Higgins, the Angel of Glasgow, Maine.”
Alex caught the glimmer in Sally’s eyes. Sally had always loved the attention that came with the success of saving so many unwanted or neglected animals. Attention she unequivocally deserved. “She’s not the only celebrity. From her digging around in the dump to rescue abandoned kittens to you climbing a burning tree to save an eaglet, I’m in rare company.”
Zoe’s cheeks turned pink. “Sorry to interrupt your work. Sally told me you were doing research for a book you’re writing. I love books. You’ll have to let me know when it’s published, and I’ll get a copy. Maybe I can talk you into autographing it.”
“I’d be happy to.”
“What’s it about?”
“The forest fires that happened here in 1947. It was terrible. Entire towns across Maine burned.”
“It’s a timely subject,” Sally said. “When you had to climb that tree the other day, you saw how similar this year is to the summer that preceded those fires. Fires like that in springtime are a bad sign here in Maine. I was seventeen the October that the fires broke out here in Glasgow and around the state. We hardly had any snow that winter and no rain to speak of in spring or summer. The whole place was a tinderbox waiting to go up in flames. Just like now.”
“How much of the town was damaged?” Zoe asked.
“Every building in town burned except for the camp owned by Alex’s family,” Sally answered. “I was working there as a counselor that summer. We didn’t have the kinds of things available to us to fight fires like they have today. All we had were shovels, small tank trucks for water, and buckets.”
“My grandfather used to love to tell me the story of how the camp was saved,” Alex said. “Do you remember, Sally?”
“I sure do. Everyone in town knew we only had enough resources to try to save one or two buildings. We all agreed that the camp and your family’s house were the most important. The camp was the heart of this town and did an awful lot of good. We had to give it a shot. Our army assembled at the top of Thistle Hill. That fire was not going to get past the hill if we had anything to do about it. Everyone played a role in keeping the fire at bay. The men fought it at its line, and we ladies made sure they had plenty to eat and drink while they were at it,” Sal
ly said.
“The fire was no match for a group of people working together, hell-bent on saving the soul of this town. It’s funny how all the politics and squabbles between the people disappeared when their backs were against a wall. Too bad we had to have our collective butts in a sling before we could come together as a town for a good cause. But we managed.”
“Until the fire flared up again after hiding underground for a while,” Alex added.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing. How can a fire hide in the ground?” Zoe asked.
“One reason the fires were so difficult to fight in ’47 was that they sometimes smoldered undetected beneath the surface of the ground in the crevices between boulders and tree roots. There are lots of leaves and brush to provide fuel. The firefighters thought the fires were out, but then they would roar back to life in the least expected places.” Alex considered the parallel between the fires and her anxiety. It too liked to smolder beneath the surface, only to flare up uncontrolled.
Sally leaned against the library’s reception desk. “They say it could never happen again with modern fire-detecting equipment. Something about infrared heat detectors or some kind of contraption like that.”
“Thinking about the fires out west,” Zoe said, “and detecting equipment, it’s not enough to know the location of the fire. You still have to be able to put it out. I imagine putting out a fire burning underground is a whole different ball game even if you know where it is.”
Sally slapped the desk. “I like this girl. Finally, someone from the government who has some good sense, don’t you think, Alex?”
“Yes, I like her too,” Alex answered. “Very much.”
Zoe put her hands in her pockets and fidgeted. “I’m glad you like me because I have a huge favor to ask you. It has to do with the camp.”
“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do what I can,” Alex said. “What is it?”