by D. K. Davis
Then about Kara, how did we even become friends in the first place? Our friendship happened around the same time Jack and Mom got serious. Maybe that had something to do with it. I needed a distraction.
“I’ll be very curious how Becka and Charlie take to you.” She glimpsed at me through the rearview mirror. “There was a time, years ago, she wanted to take you away from me. She thought she could do a better job.” Mom snickered.
“Why would you tell me that?”
“Because, I think you’re something my dear sister isn’t going to be able to fix, even though her place is for wild animals and troubled kids.” She gazed back into the mirror and smiled as if she ate a piece of fine chocolate. “It will drive her crazy.”
* * *
The digital clock on the car dash glared a liquid blue eleven o’clock. We’d only been on the road two and a half hours. Mom turned sharp off the main drag onto a narrow gravel road. Without a seatbelt on, I slid to the middle. Bent low in the back seat, I saw a large wooden sign painted with ‘Welcome to Connor’s Wildlife Refuge’ through the front windshield. It hung across the driveway; each side nailed to a bark covered post.
Mom followed the drive for about a half-mile, creating a trail of dust behind. We popped out from the trees into a large open area. A two-story log home set on top of a sweeping hill with a porch across the front and around one side. The driveway continued, but Mom pulled the car over, next to the porch.
As if on cue, Aunt Becka and Uncle Charlie, who I recognized from our earlier years together, hurried out the screen door and down the steps to Mom’s car. Aunt Becka yanked open the backseat car door.
“Come on, out of there. You’ve got an aunt who’s been waiting too long for a Morgan hug.” She pulled me from the car and then held me by my upper arms, standing me back at arm’s length. She stared at me, tears pouring from her eyes, and all the while she laughed. A loud, deep, pull-it-out-from-the-gut laughter that made me smile, in spite of the way my insides piled around my stomach and throat.
“Oh my God, Charlie, would you look at our little Morgan! She’s grown into a beautiful young woman.” Aunt Becka drew me close and hugged me, something uncommon and uncomfortable for me. My body went rigid, and I didn’t know where to put my head or my hands. When she stepped back, Uncle Charlie took her place. Aunt Becka stood close, clasping her hands together chest high, with a huge smile spread across her face.
“It’s truly a Blessing having you come and stay with us,” Uncle Charlie whispered in my ear. He’d grown a beard since the last time I saw him, nicely trimmed and much redder than his hair color.
Uncle Charlie and Aunt Becka appeared to want me around. I twisted around toward the car. Mom had piled my bags on the ground near the porch steps. She stood next to the open driver’s side door, no smile, displaying all the signs of being in a hurry to leave. Her cell phone rang inside the car.
“Gotta’ run honey,” she said over the glass sunroof of the Cadillac. “Our flight leaves in four hours, and I still have a few things left to pack.”
I immobilized as Mom dove into the car to retrieve her phone. She tapped the screen and started the car.
I didn’t wave as she shifted into gear and drove off with her cell phone stuck to her ear.
She never even glanced my way.
From my peripheral, Uncle Charlie and Aunt Becka looked at each other. They weren’t smiling anymore. Mom had never said a word to either of them. She didn’t say goodbye to me, either, unless I counted the trail of dust marking her exit.
Good riddance. Oh, and have a happy life with Jack.
My stomach fluttered, and the inside of my throat tightened like it might collapse in on itself. A load of moisture gathered, blurring my vision. Some trickled alongside my nose. I’m not crying. Extra baggage doesn’t cry; instead, I go to prison.
My body relaxed as if a heavy weight shifted and slipped off. Why not make the best of this crappy situation? I was on the back burner, but not being dumped down the garbage disposal. I wiped away the water littering my face and picked up my two duffle bags. Aunt Becka scooped up my backpack; her thick long blond braid slid over her shoulder.
“This way, dear. You’ve come at a good time with the weather. We’ve got a warm streak going. It isn’t normally nice warm temperatures until much later in the summer.” Aunt Becka led the way into the house. She wore faded denim shorts with a baggy sky-blue T-shirt, short white socks, and high-top hiking boots. She and Uncle Charlie were sun-browned and looked the same age as Mom. The muscles in Aunt Becka’s calves stood out as she climbed the circular stairway.
She continued, “It’s still pretty cool in the mornings and later in the evenings, which makes for great sleeping weather.”
At the top of the stairs, I walked across the open loft to the wall-sized window, dropping my bags mid-way.
Two bright red barns stood off to one side. I recognized the green T-shirt and dark blue baseball cap Uncle Charlie wore. He pushed a wheel-barrow into one of the barns. Another guy walked behind with a huge bag of something balanced on his shoulder. The muscles in his arm bulged. He stopped in mid-step and swung around to look upward, at the window, and then at me.
My stomach suddenly churned into warm pudding as our gazes collided. Rowan’s eyes glowed, amber, a trick of the sun I was sure. My breath sucked in.
Aunt Becka stepped beside me and glanced out. “Oh, that’s Rowan Marcus. He’s here pretty much every day helping with chores and with the other kids that aid us at the refuge.”
Rowan swung around and followed Uncle Charlie into the barn. A tremor slid through me, and then I exhaled, realizing I’d completely stopped my lungs from working. What the heck? Amber eyes?
Aunt Becka pointed to the other side of the barn toward tall wire fenced-in areas. “We keep recovering deer or goats in those.” Then she pointed along the outside of the barns, to smaller wire pens. “Those hold fawns or other small animals that need special care.”
I attempted to stay focused on her words, but the image of Rowan and those eyes. My brain fogged over with his image burnt on the inside of my eyelids.
She waved a finger at the dirt paths that connected everything and waited until I looked to continue, “We have cleared pathways to every area that requires our attention, and that tree line marks the perimeter into our wildlife preserve. We own a lot of forest acreage that’s a safe place for our healed wildlife to live.”
A.K.A. my prison grounds.
She squeezed me to her. “It’s wonderful here. I know you’ll love it as much as Charlie and I do.”
I didn’t know how to respond, other than to go rigid and silent. My aunt acted like this was going to be a vacation for me, not punishment. Pulling away from her, I paced the room, taking inventory. Aunt Becka watched me from near the window.
A bed, nightstand, desk, and dresser, all built of knotty pine or logs. A narrow door opened to a closet and beside it, another narrow door led into a small bathroom. Most of the walls and all of the ceilings and floors were knotty wood. No carpet, no curtains. Like being inside a sterile prison, not that I frequented the inside of a real prison cell, but this shiny clean room gave me the impression of ‘no fun, all work.’
I plopped down on the bed and bounced on it a little. Comfortable.
“So, Kate said you and your step-dad are kind of on the outs with each other.” Aunt Becka strolled over and plopped on the bed beside me. “To be honest, Charlie and I didn’t even know Kate had gotten married.”
“Let’s just say I’m used to Mom having flings with her escort men, but she’s never married one of them,” I said, the words slipping from my mouth like a spray of negative ick.
Aunt Becka frowned, and then her face softened. “You’ve had it tough, haven’t you?”
I stared at her, another question I didn’t know how to answer. My nose tingled, an itch inevitable. So, again, I blurted, “No, I’ve been fine. Mom and I played our roles the best we knew how, and then our role
s changed. That’s all.” I rubbed the crap out of my nose, jumped off the bed and unzipped one of the duffle bags.
“The dresser’s empty. Go ahead and put your things in it.” Aunt Becka walked around my two duffle bags and headed out. “I’m going downstairs to get us some lunch. Please come down to eat with Charlie and me when you’re finished.” She smiled before skipping down the stairs. “Maybe, we can talk Rowan into joining us,” she called up from the bottom of the steps.
My heart stuttered at the mention of Rowan. That’s weird…and eating together?
The only time I’d eaten with people at the same time was during the school year, but I still never sat with anyone. Mom and I never ate together, and Kara didn’t attend my school.
Kara? An uncomfortable chill slid over my arms. What was she to me?
After the garden incident with her, it became obvious there’d never been any friendship between us. Even though, we’d had a purpose together, whatever that was had most definitely expired.
Chapter Three
Morgan
After tucking the emptied duffle bags in the bottom of the closet, I headed down to the kitchen. Aunt Becka led me through a quick tour of the ground floor. The kitchen, dining area, and family room combined as one great room with a cathedral ceiling. Aunt Becka and Uncle Charlie had a separate master bedroom which included a personal bathroom. A long desk with a flat screen monitor and keyboard stood against a wall next to a tall file cabinet. Pictures of wildlife faded in and out on the monitor.
Another separate room located just inside the back door was half-bathroom and half-laundry room. The loft was directly above it. The front of the house pointed North, so no direct sunlight blasted through the front window-wall like it had done in the bedroom at Jack’s. Logs made up the rest of the walls. Not a lot of places to hide inside.
“Here she is,” Uncle Charlie pulled a chair out for me.
Rowan leaned against a counter a few feet from the table. When our gazes collided, my stomach warmed and then spun into a storm of butterflies.
“Rowan, Morgan. Morgan, Rowan.” Uncle Charlie didn’t wait for either of us to acknowledge the other, instead, he continued, “Becka, Morgan’s probably starving. I’m surprised you didn’t pull her out to the barns and rehabilitation areas already.”
Aunt Becka laughed, a hardy-happy melodious sound. “Hey, don’t give me any ideas.” She whirled toward me and laughed again. “Go ahead and sit. I’ll load up some plates, and then after we eat, I’ll take you on the tour of our refuge. We can fit chores in as we go.”
Uncle Charlie talked shop with Rowan some fencing needed to be repaired and they planned on working on it after lunch. I didn’t mind listening, it gave me a chance to study Rowan. His deep, husky responses and mannerisms oozed confidence. Every time he glanced my way, our gazes held and the room swept away until he was all I saw or heard, a total mind consumption.
Aunt Becka nudged my shoulder, startling me. My face heated when I glanced back at Rowan. A huge smile split his face, and for a second his eyes appeared to glow.
My aunt giggled. “Here ya, go.” She placed a plate in front of me containing a garden vegetable salad, half a cold meatball sandwich, and cut-up watermelon. More than I normally ate for lunch. She circled the table, delivering everyone’s plate of food.
“Thank you,” I said to her when she sat. And what will follow as my prisoner requirements?
“We thought it a good idea to set some ground rules so you know our expectations.” Uncle Charlie pulled a pen and paper from his pocket and set them in front of me.
I stared at it. I’ll never have a free moment again in my life.
Aunt Becka burst out in more of her jovial soundtrack. “Oh my gosh! You should see your face.”
Uncle Charlie and Rowan chuckled. My uncle picked up the paper and pen. “Our only rule is to be respectful to all the residents of our refuge and to the people who help here.”
“We want you to enjoy your stay with us, Morgan,” Aunt Becka spoke through an underlying giggle. “There are responsibilities you’ll work into, but even with those, our hope is that you’ll enjoy them.” She glanced up at a wildlife scene glazed across a slab of wood that hung on the wall, clock hands in its corner pointed 1:00 p.m. “Oh, eat fast, it’s time to feed our babies.”
I wolfed down the tasty meatball sandwich, but the rest remained on my plate so I could hurry out with my aunt. Plates rattled together as the screen door slammed behind us, which meant Uncle Charlie and Rowan cleaned the table.
Not used to anyone picking up after me and I wasn’t used to thinking about it either, with the exception of Rhetta, but she didn’t count because she’d never picked up any of my stuff, only Jack’s and Mom’s. Although, I didn’t think Rhetta liked doing anything for Mom…too many of Mom’s perfume bottles or face products ended up broken, too many clothes ripped or stained from the laundry. She never cooked what Mom liked either.
Mom never had those issues when I took care of things.
The sun warmed my skin and touched everything around me. The pure blueness of the sky offered a surreal appearance of country living compared to my normal smog-filled city life.
We entered the smaller of the two barns, and Aunt Becka led me into a large room that looked like a kitchen and lab combo. “We call this our sterilization room, for identification purposes,” she said. Then, she explained a play-by-play, pulling seven bottles and nipples out of a container she called a sterilization unit, and then she popped off the lid from a huge canister of powdered formula. After measuring some into each bottle, she poured water from room temperature gallon jugs into the bottles and asked me to shake them. We loaded them into a slotted carrier and headed out a side door of the barn.
Aunt Becka led me to the first small fenced area. “Shut the gate behind you,” she said as we entered. Five fawns, bleating little sounds, closed in on Aunt Becka. She blurted her hardy-happy laugh, and the fawns scattered, momentarily.
I got a couple curious wet-nosed bumps against the back of my knees. Maybe, I should have worn jeans instead of shorts the first time through. “Do they bite?”
“Not really, but they lick.” She scratched one between its ears. “Consider this your first lesson. Watch how easy it is to feed these little hungry mouths.” Aunt Becka shuffled and balanced two bottles in each of her hands and one between her knees. All five fawns mouthed a bottle and noisily suckled. Formula squirted out of their mouths, drooled off their chins, and slopped all over each other and Aunt Becka.
“Do you want me to feed a couple?”
“Yea, but not these guys. The twins over there.” She nodded her head in the direction of a tarp-covered enclosure within the pen. “Grab the other two bottles from the carrier and remember to close the door when you get inside.”
The wire entry dragged hard across the ground. The outside light filtered in through the wire sides and the clear tarp covering. Inside felt toasty, like the greenhouses I worked in last spring.
I didn’t see anything for a moment, only piles of straw mixed with blankets, and then…there they lay. So, tiny, snuggled together, eyes closed, and ears flickering. As I moved closer, they shook awake and bobbled to their feet. Little sounds came from their throats, the meow-like coo of babies or tiny kittens. They both found the bottle nipples and suckled, dribbling formula everywhere, including on me. I bent down on my knees and tightened my grip on the bottles. The babies settled, folding their shaky legs underneath them.
“Come on little dudes, slow down. There’s enough for you,” I whispered to the little cuties. This surely didn’t feel like discipline. Mom sent me here to get fixed, snapped into respectful and trustworthy behavior. It’ll come. As fast as Mom sprinted out of here, it’s gonna be bad at some point.
Aunt Becka bent down next to the pen and watched through the wire side.
“They’re so tiny, what happened to their mother?” If I got her talking about the refuge, she would forget about my punishment
.
“Our ranger friend brought them in a few days ago. Poachers killed their mother.”
“Why wouldn’t poachers take these guys too?” I plopped down on my butt to get even closer to the small fawns.
“Most likely didn’t see them. A doe’s natural instinct is to lead danger away from her young. Thank goodness, Linden, one of our Forest Guardians, happened onto the scene only a few hours afterward or the fawns would have starved. He actually tripped over them.”
“You’re kidding. Tripped without seeing them?” I set the emptied bottles aside.
“Yea. Fawns are born with the ability to lay flat on the ground. Less chance of discovery, plus they come without a scent for seventy-two hours. That saves them during their most vulnerable days from predators.”
“Who knew life on the wild side could be so interesting,” sarcasm slipped into my words. One of the twins nosed my cheek, automatically I rubbed the top of its nose.
Aunt Becka smiled, close-lipped, and her brows lifted.
Not what I expected, not what Mom would do and definitely not how Jack would handle my attitude.
“They’ll grow on you. Pretty soon you’ll want to name them,” she said.
Funny she’d say that about the names, I’d already thought about ‘Bambi’ and ‘Faline,’ only wasn’t sure of their gender.
Aunt Becka opened the enclosure and grabbed the two emptied bottles, slipping them into the carrier with the others. I crawled out and closed the door. She glanced at the five fawns she’d just fed. “Every creature that comes through our doors has become the family we’ve never had, same with the teens that come and help us.”
Wow, that was deep and sort of reminded me of Mom’s comment, ‘There was a time, years ago, she wanted to take you away from me. She thought she could do it better.’
One of the five fawns charged another, which started a chain reaction with all of them romping around the pen, chasing each other. Aunt Becka’s jolly chuckles promoted more of their speedy action.