Broken Wings

by Weis, Alexandrea

  “Can you help it?” Daniel asked, looking more like a little boy than a grown man.

  Pamela gazed over at his bare chest and felt her stomach do a few nervous flips. She immediately turned her eyes back to the flying squirrel. “I can start a round of antibiotics and get some good nutrition into her,” she informed him.

  “Her?” Daniel asked, raising one eyebrow.

  “Her,” Pamela confirmed. “She’s definitely not a him.”

  Daniel grinned. “I guess she found me irresistible, too.”

  Pamela just shook her head and got up from the floor. She went to the kitchen cabinet where she kept her medicines.

  Daniel followed behind her. He watched as she opened the cabinet and then gave a long whistle.

  “Woman, you got a lot of drugs there,” he declared, taking in the row upon row of medicine bottles piled high in the cabinet.

  “Always stay well stocked on antibiotics, wormers, creams, and lotions for skin irritations and burns. In the next cabinet I have my IV equipment, needles, syringes, different sized nursing nipples, suture sets, splints, plaster of Paris for casts, and my tubing supplies.”

  “Tubing supplies?”

  “I tube baby opossums instead of feeding them through a syringe. I stick a tube down their throats and pump the food gently into their stomachs. They do better that way.”

  Daniel went to the next cabinet and opened it. He looked over shelf upon shelf of the medical and nursing supplies. “What about going to a vet?” he asked, glancing back at her.

  “Vets are expensive and most don’t have any experience working with wildlife. If I need x-rays or surgery, I can take the animal to LSU Veterinary School. They work with all the permitted rehabbers in the state.”

  “Where did you learn about all this stuff?”

  She took out a bottle from her cabinet and reached in front of him for a syringe. “You learn some from other rehabbers but most of it is self-taught through books or the Internet. Being an EMT helped tremendously. My medical background gives me a leg up on other rehabbers who are not as well versed in medical emergency protocols.”

  She pulled out a small scale, put it on the counter, and gently placed the animal in the weighing dish. She read the weight, picked up the animal, and handed it to Daniel.

  “Hold her while I draw up her medicine.”

  “Why did you weigh her?” he asked.

  “In order to find out the proper dose of medicine to give her—all medicine is given by weight, for people and for animals.”

  He shook his head while Pamela withdrew a small amount of pink medicine from a bottle. “I never realized there was so much to rehabbing wildlife. You’re really running a hospital and a nursery for animals here, aren’t you?”

  “Of course,” she answered as she took the flying squirrel out of his hands and fed it the contents of the syringe. “Most people think that the pictures on television of people cleaning birds from the BP oil spill depict what rehabbers do. But only rehabbers know what is involved in keeping these animals going.”

  “Maybe someone should tell people what you do,” Daniel suggested in a deep voice.

  Pamela found herself becoming acutely aware of the close proximity of his half-naked body. She quickly redirected her attention back to the animal in her hands. “Many people don’t care about what we do. I have been called an animal hoarder, anti-naturist, animal abuser…oh, all kinds of things from all kinds of people. What I, and other rehabbers, do doesn’t save the world, cure cancer, or make for an interesting mini-series. Our attention-deficit-driven society does not care when you save a life; they are only interested when you destroy one.”

  Daniel leaned in closer to her. “Well, I care. I care very much.”

  Pamela stepped back from him. “Yes, I saw just how much you cared with Clarissa today.”

  Daniel chuckled. “I thought you wanted me to take her around your place and get some pictures for the paper. I had no idea my services involved leasing myself out to entertain lonely and bored housewives.”

  Pamela turned away from him and walked over to her hallway closet. She pulled out a plastic container with some clean felt strips inside of it. After she had placed the little flying squirrel on top of the felt strips, she snapped the container lid closed.

  Pamela kept her eyes on the container in her hands. “Clarissa is a supporter of this facility and she was obviously impressed with you, though for the life of me I can’t figure out why. Besides that, she requested you take her around and she wanted you, not me, in the pictures.” Pamela then walked over to the kitchen table and placed the flying squirrel’s container on top of it.

  “You’re angry,” Daniel surmised, grinning. “You’re pissed because that silly woman wanted me in the pictures and not you.”

  She spun around and faced him. “Well, it is my facility!”

  “Then you should have said something!” he shouted, sounding more than a little perturbed.

  “I couldn’t say anything to her. I have to kiss her ass so she keeps letting her husband give me money!”

  Daniel placed his hand on his hip as he considered her comment. “Why does Clarissa have to let her husband give you money? Why can’t she just give you the money?”

  “Because Clarissa is married to my ex-husband, that’s why!” Pamela replied.

  His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “Jesus, what a twisted triangle! You were married to her husband, and not only do you have to kiss your ex-husband’s ass, you have to cater to his wife, as well.” Daniel started laughing.

  “It’s not funny, Daniel. I have put up with a lot of shit from that woman. Like the crap she pulled today with you. I had to bite my tongue, otherwise she would have gone running back to Bob and nagged him into cutting off my funding.”

  Daniel tried to contain his laughter, somewhat. “Pamela, it’s very funny. You have to admit.”

  Pamela threw her hands into the air. “It’s no different than women who try to get child support out of ex-husbands who have moved on to greener pastures.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call Clarissa greener pastures. She’s a pretentious bore who made it quite clear today what she wanted from me,” Daniel admitted.

  Pamela folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. “And what did she want from you?”

  He leaned in closer to her. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

  Pamela said nothing. She could feel the seething anger rising beneath her skin.

  Daniel shrugged his wide shoulders. “I have been around enough women to know when they want more from me than a handshake.”

  Pamela marched toward the front door. “I think this conversation has gone far enough,” she growled over her shoulder.

  Daniel stared dumbfounded at her back. “You’re mad at me?” he asked as he followed her to the door. “Because that woman hit on me!” he shouted behind her.

  “Yes! You could have jeopardized everything I have worked for!” she yelled back as she opened the front door. “Now get out,” she demanded.

  Daniel walked up to her and stared into her face. Then his countenance softened and a slow grin replaced the angry grimace on his lips.

  “You’re not angry about Clarissa.” He placed his hands on his hips as his grin grew in size. “You’re jealous that I spent the afternoon flirting with her,” he challenged.

  Pamela’s jaw dropped. “Did you flirt with her?”

  “I thought I was helping you!”

  “Get out!” she shouted, pointing outside.

  “No, I won’t leave until we have settled this.” He slammed the front door closed.

  Pamela reached over and placed her hand on the doorknob, but Daniel leaned his body against the door so she could not open it. Pamela stood there for several minutes pulling on the doorknob.

  “Are you finished?” he asked, looking thoroughly amused with her ardent determination.

  Pamela let go of the doorknob and stood back from him, breathing heavi
ly. “I want you out of here. You’re an arrogant, self-centered, conceited bastard.”

  He smiled at her. “Now, are you finished?”

  She stood before him, still breathing hard from her exertions. She was so angry. No one had ever challenged her like this. With wild animals she expected this kind of behavior. Asserting dominance was merely a way to establish their authority. But this was something she had never experienced before. How should she handle this obstinate and difficult man? Her fists curled with frustration and, without thinking, she reached out and punched Daniel as hard as she could in the arm.

  “Ow!” he yelled as he grabbed at his arm.

  “Get out!” she cried and made a move to punch him again.

  But Daniel was too quick for her and reached out and wrapped his arms about her body, pinning her arms beneath his.

  “No punching or kicking.” He leaned in closer to her face. “Biting and scratching, however, are definitely encouraged,” he murmured into her ear.

  Pamela stood encased in his long arms, wiggling with all of her might to free herself. She could not stand the feel of his skin against hers, the smell of his body, or the way his breath teased the sensitive skin along the nape of her neck.

  “Let me go,” she begged, her voice filled with fear.

  “Not yet,” Daniel whispered as he lowered his head to hers. “There’s something I have wanted to do to you for quite some time.”

  Daniel leaned forward and kissed her, hard on the lips. Pamela tried to scream, but his lips stifled her cries. She wanted to flay him alive, but a forgotten cavern inside of her body began to have other ideas. A vibrant and all-consuming flow of electricity shot out around her body. Her legs felt weak, her heart raced, and her toes began to tingle. This was not like the kisses she had shared with Bob. His ardor had seemed to be fanned only when she played the roll of the submissive housewife and catered to his every whim. And even then, his passion reminded her of something similar to warm milk instead of this forbidden absinthe. Pamela felt her defenses weakening, and her body slowly began responding to his.

  Suddenly, he pulled away. He let her go and took a step back from her. Pamela felt her eyes searching his, as if wanting to know what she had done wrong.

  “I’m sorry,” he softly said.

  Pamela studied his face for the slightest hint of what he was thinking, but her own emotions seemed to be clouding her judgment.

  She lowered her eyes to the floor and took a frustrated breath.

  “I’ll go,” he blurted out, and then reached for the door.

  “Wait, Daniel.” She paused and ran her hand along her forehead. “You were right. I was jealous of you spending time with Clarissa today. I’ve always wondered what she had that I lacked, and then today when I saw her hanging all over you…”

  He smiled for her. “So does that mean I can come back and see you again?”

  She tried to frown, unsuccessfully. “You can come back and finish fixing up my house, if we happen to run into—”

  Daniel’s laugh interrupted her. “Pamela, playing hard to get doesn’t suit you. Next time, just nod.”

  She stepped up beside him at the door. He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  “I’ll be back in a few days,” he assured her as he opened her door.

  “I’ll be here, Daniel.” She watched as he walked out the door and across the porch.

  He grabbed his white T-shirt hanging from the porch railing and looked back at her once more. “Take care of my flying squirrel for me. I’m thinking of naming her Pamela,” he called out.

  Pamela gave him one last smile as he bounded down the steps and climbed into his Jeep.

  Daniel tossed his T-shirt on to the passenger’s seat, put on his sunglasses, and eyed the woman standing on the porch.

  “I’m one lucky son of a bitch,” he mumbled to himself as he started his Jeep. “I just hope I don’t blow it.”

  Chapter 6

  A familiar silver Mercedes-Benz CL 550 coupe made its way slowly down Pamela’s long gravel drive from the main road. She had been sitting out on the front porch, enjoying an afternoon break from the animals, when the car pulled up in front of her house.

  “Great, this is all I need,” she whispered.

  The usual welcoming committee of stray dogs surrounded the car, but this time there was no loud demonstration of barking as a man dressed in a tailored gray suit stepped from his Mercedes. He removed a pair of expensive Vuarnet sunglasses and threw them on the seat as he gazed up at the porch. The dogs eagerly gathered around the man with their tails wagging, waiting for their customary pat on the head.

  “Hello, Pamela,” he said as he looked up from rubbing Quincy’s thick neck.

  “Hello, Bob. What brings you out on a weekday?”

  Bob Patrick was a man of medium-height with a thick body, and perfectly coiffed light brown hair. He had a long nose, round face, and a wide forehead that made his pale green eyes appear to be very intense. It was a feature Pamela knew he used to his advantage in the courtroom every time he cross-examined a witness.

  “I had some free time this afternoon and thought I would come out and see how things were going,” he told her as he made his way up the steps. “I haven’t heard from you in a while,” he added as he walked up to her side and tenderly kissed her cheek.

  She could smell the woody cologne on his clothes as he approached. Pamela had forgotten how heavy-handed Bob tended to be with the stuff. It used to drive her out of their bedroom every morning when they were married. She felt she had spent half of their marriage running away from the smell of him. She had always been too afraid to tell him how she felt about his liberal use of cologne. At that moment, she realized she had always been too afraid to tell him about a lot of things.

  Bob’s pale green eyes explored up and down her body. “You’ve been feeling all right?”

  Pamela frowned at her ex-husband’s attempt at concern. “I’m fine, Bob.”

  “You look good.” He leered at her. “But then you always look good, no matter how sick you are.”

  He inspected the property as if searching for something. Pamela followed his eyes and wondered what he could possibly be looking for.

  “I ran into Jennifer Barons the other days at Galatoire’s,” he said as his eyes came back to her. “She asked about you. I said I would pass on her best. She and Elliot divorced last year. Ted Yanosky handled it. Very nasty, according to Ted.”

  “Well, Jennifer was the one with all of the money,” Pamela commented, not really interested in the vacuous lives of forgotten friends in the city. “Elliot told everyone he married her for her money. He wasn’t a very subtle man.”

  Bob nodded in agreement. “His two mistresses didn’t think so either. They both testified against him at the divorce hearing, so Jennifer ended up walking away without having to pay him a dime.”

  Pamela studied his face for a moment. “You didn’t drive all the way up here to talk about Jennifer and Elliot. I know you, Bob, and you wouldn’t go to this much trouble without a reason.”

  “I could never pull one over on you, P.A.,” he remarked, smiling.

  “P.A.? You haven’t called me that in years,” she responded, referring to Bob’s favorite nickname for her when they were married.

  “I’ve always called you P.A. You’re the one who hated being called Pamela Anne,” he reminded her.

  “No, Bob, I didn’t hate being called Pamela Anne. I just hated the way you said it. You made my name sound like something you owned and not someone you loved.” She sighed as she folded her arms about her body. “Why are you here?” she softly asked.

  “Clarissa told me about the handyman you have working around here. In fact, she never shut up about the guy.” He rolled his eyes. “She seems to think he’s a gigolo, looking for a meal ticket. I immediately became suspicious and decided to come up here and check him out.”

  “You came all this way to check out a worker?” Pamela cracked a grin. “Tha
t’s a first. You could have saved yourself the drive because he’s not here, Bob.”

  He focused his intense eyes on her. “You can’t just let any bum off the street in here, Pamela. You’re a woman living alone and you’re vulnerable in this godforsaken place. You need to use your head.”

  “This is beginning to sound like the conversation we had right after we got married. You pestered me to quit my job as an EMT because you thought it wasn’t safe.”

  “It wasn’t safe!” he shouted and then turned away. He stared down the gravel drive for a few moments, and when he turned back, his pale green eyes appeared to be once again in control. “You were a woman working on the streets of New Orleans with drug dealers and pimps.”

  “I knew what I was dealing with better than you, Bob.” She paused and took a deep calming breath. He had always known how to push her buttons. “You need to stop worrying about me. I’m not your concern anymore,” she coolly added.

  “Pamela, you know I can’t just turn off my emotions like that. I still care for you and worry about you out here all alone with only a few stray dogs to protect you. You need to think about getting an alarm system and perhaps taking a few self-defense classes, just in case. You’re a long way from the nearest police station and you need to be a little more selective in your choice of workers.”

  “I’m not your wife anymore, Bob. Please don’t lecture me. And the guy was sent by the probation office to do some community service. You’re the one who told me to call them and get some free help out here because you were concerned I was doing too much by myself.”

  He blew a breath out through his clenched teeth. “Yeah, I know that. But the way Clarissa described him made me think I should come and check him out.”

  Pamela shook her head as a realization came over her. “You came out here looking for a fight, didn’t you?”

  “No, and that happened a long time ago,” he angrily replied. “Why do you persist in bringing up one minor altercation that happened over ten years ago?!”