by R. T. Wolfe
* * *
The Northeast was fortunate to have a biologist who could not only band the eaglets but could do the climbing herself. Rose liked to do things on her own. But she was sensible enough to know she couldn't do everything alone. Hired an assistant, hadn't she? She just preferred doing things herself when at all possible. The interns were a different story. As an undergrad at NYU, she had been granted several prosperous internships in dozens of capacities. In return, she provided the same opportunities to promising interns whenever possible.
Methodically, her table, supplies and equipment were packed in the back of her truck. She climbed in, but before turning the ignition, rotated to Grace who sat in the backseat. "What the hell are you doing back there?"
Grace politely pointed a thumb out the passenger window, then rolled her eyes as she looked away. The door opened to a professor of ornithology who pulled himself up to the passenger seat by the hand grab attached to the ceiling.
"Hello, love." He leaned over and kissed Rose on the mouth. "Sorry to have missed your show."
She laid her hand on his cheek. "It's no big, but you know it's not a show." She turned away and looked out the front windshield, starting up the truck.
"No, of course it's not. I meant your presentation." He buckled his belt and waved off his ride. "I came to help you, darling."
Pulling the truck into gear, she looked at him. "I've got blogs to check, Oliver, a site to update, an intern to chew out, and avian chicken pox to scrape from an eaglet's beak. I'm not sure what you could help with, but you're welcome to come and hang out." She looked in the rearview mirror, knowing Grace would be looking back. Slyly, she squinted at her before accelerating.
The trip was one of their shorter ones. The Birds of Prey Research and Action Center was only an hour north of the botanical gardens. She and Grace generally had several hours behind the wheel to and from banding sites.
As she drove, the Whooping crane protest burned a hole in the back of her mind. She'd already used a half dozen of her media connections to line up a nice showing for the damned developer. Getting there was another story. How would she, in this lifetime, afford to fly both her and Grace to Florida and back?
The action center nestled comfortably in a valley between hills and along Seneca Lake. Large Shiloh pines filled the landscape. Behind the facility, a large field provided the perfect spot for presentations, fundraisers and activities for classroom field trips.
They pulled up on the gravel drive and parked in the farthest visitor's spot just as a group of small children walked out of the main building with their parents. The structure was efficient. Off the lobby was her office; the office of the owner and director, Biologist Dr. Paul Gray; and a break room for the interns and receptionist. To the back of the building was an enormous area with small habitats scattered around the perimeter. The center housed mostly animals that were in the process of rehabilitation. Many would be reintroduced back into the wild, yet some had been permanently injured and the center served as their home.
"Love... I, err, need to check my voice mail and I'd like to use your big screen to check my email. I'll come out and help in a few minutes?" Oliver gave her fingers a squeeze as he kissed her on the cheek before heading to her office.
Threateningly, Rose pointed a finger at Grace before she had a chance to chide Rose about Oliver shirking a hand at unpacking the gear. "I'm not looking for a pack mule. I can take care of myself. Let's get this stuff into the shed and go inside to see if we can find Mr. Bend-the-Rules." Using a dolly, they hauled the load into one of a dozen metal sheds, locked it up and headed across the side of the field to the back door.
When they entered the lobby, the suspect intern stood behind the reception counter at the computer. Tall, sandy brown hair curled over his ears and lay on his neck. She walked and stood opposite him.
Overtly, Grace pretended to blend in with the scenery.
Without greeting or warning, Rose spoke up, "Don't think just because you're a grad student it means you can make administrative decisions around here. I hired you, Wes, granted at shit for pay, because I think you have potential. If you use that potential to do the undergrads' work again, I'm going to kick your potential ass out of here. I'm the boss and when I tell the undergrads to do something, I want them to do it." Frustrated because he wouldn't look her in the eye, she dipped her head down to where his gaze pointed.
Wes turned to focus on the other side of her.
Silence. More silence.
Moving her head dramatically over to where his gaze wandered, she asked, "Well?"
"Well, Dr. Piper, they asked me if I would just close up for th... okay... yes... I see what you're saying and..."
"How can you see what I'm saying when you won't look at me?"
Wes' chest expanded slowly, then he exhaled deeply. But instead of looking to her, he focused over her shoulder. She turned to see Grace was clearly holding back a smile.
"Oh, hell. Listen to me. If you're going to make it around here, you're going to need to know the difference between teamwork and being a doormat. You're a quick study with good ideas. Let the others learn for themselves. That's. Why. They're. Here," she said, poking at his chest with each word. She looked over at the clock on the wall. "And clock the hell out. It's past time for you to be here."
Wes did as he was told and walked toward the door in his baggy jeans and work polo. Grace stood in front of it with a wide smile and whispered, "She likes you, ya know." Then, opened the door for him.
Doing a double take at Grace and blushing, he looked at the floor and walked out to his car.
"Isn't he just the cutest thing?" Grace asked as they turned for Rose's office.
"If you say so, in that so-cute-I-can't-speak sort of way."
As she and Grace turned together, they both stopped short when they noticed Dr. Gray leaning against his doorjamb, arms crossed with a brow lifted high.
A thin-brimmed leather hat circled his head and well-worn work boots on his feet. "I was never that hard on you."
She smiled adoringly at him. "I never needed it."
"Point taken. How is Wart coming along?"
"Shall I give you a lecture on the problems associated with naming a wild animal?"
"You know the likelihood of her reintroduction into the wild is slim. She hasn't been with her parents for weeks now. How is the pox looking?"
She sighed at the thought of the bald eagle spending its life in captivity. "Much better. It doesn't look like there'll be permanent damage, and she eats just fine if I keep the wart... I mean the pox shaved." She shook her head. "Her wings are strong. She needs a bigger space to fly, as all the rehabs do."
Dr. Gray set his hand on her shoulder. "Do what you can, Rose. Then, let the rest go," he said and headed back into his office.
As she wandered to her office, she stopped at the sight of Oliver. Damn it, she'd forgotten he was there. Standing in the doorway, she realized he didn't notice her. She was going to spend the rest of her life with him. He was definitely maintenance free, she reminded herself. That was a plus. Cute in his professor sort of way. They certainly had a lot in common. She cleared her throat.
Looking up at her, then at his watch, Oliver blushed. "So sorry, dear. Did you finish already? I must have gotten caught up. What can I do to help?"
She walked to him and kissed him lightly. "You can get out of my chair."
She answered questions on her blog, put out a new post regarding a class for the public featuring Wart, or N3, as was the eagle's public name. Then, listened to her voice mail while checking her calendar for the following week. In between the daily chores of running the action center, she had an eaglet banding near Chesapeake Bay on Monday; field trips for third- through sixth-graders Tuesday; a new intern coming to apply for the summer position Wednesday; followed by a trip to see her mother and dropping off Charcoal—all between caring for the present occupants and any that would be brought to the center between now and then. She decide
d on Thursday and through the weekend, if necessary, for the Florida protest. She would rearrange those days for it. Damned developers. Dollar signs in their eyes and to hell with the wildlife.
She sent out a few tweets, posted on the action center social network page and pulled a few more strings with the media. She was hoping for a helicopter.
She was smart. She knew the deal was likely set and the developers probably cared about the protesters little more than they did the Whooping cranes. Her objective was aimed at the land reservists. She needed the next in line, anywhere along the east side of the country, to think twice before selling any locally owned land reserves to the highest bidder.
* * *
Andy meandered up the drive of his uncle's home, admiring the professional work Brie had done with the landscaping. He could kick himself for keeping his business and his personal life separate and not hiring her for his new construction sites. She was good. Really good. Late spring flowers bloomed in front of dying early spring color. Clusters of different shades of green were organized, yet weren't overbearing or overdone.
He took the first of two floral arrangements from the passenger seat of his Maserati. Climbing the porch stairs, he ran his hands along the smooth, square pillars. Andy stuck his face into the bouquet and smelled the mixture of freesia and daffodils, then opened the massive front door.
The voices of his aunt and Amanda came from the kitchen in the back of the house. He frowned down at the flowers. Turning, he traced his steps back to his car to get the second bouquet. He would have to make another stop at the florist and replace the bunch meant for the elderly Lucy Melbourne before he gave her a Mother's Day visit.
Walking through the front door, he raised his voice loud enough for the women to hear him from the kitchen. "Aren't you worried about who is walking in and out of your home unannounced?"
Reaching the kitchen, Brie and Amanda beamed at the sight of the flowers. Women, he thought. They can be so easy sometimes.
"You came announced all right. We heard your car from down the street. Between you and your dad, we could have a dealership right in the drive." Brie took the flowers from him. "They're lovely, Andy. Thank you so much."
Ensuring the second bouquet was safely held to the side, he pulled her into a tight hug. "Happy Mother's Day, Ma." Turning to Amanda, he held out the other. "And happy Mother's Day to you, Amanda."
She hit him playfully on the shoulder. "You know these weren't for me, but I'll take them anyway." She kissed him on the cheek, then followed his aunt to get a vase.
"Amanda was catching me up on the plans for Jessica's wedding. Have you mailed your RSVP?"
"RSV who? Jess knows I'm going. I ran into her last week."
Brie shook her head dramatically. "I'll check on the card, Amanda." She turned her gaze back to Andy. "Are you bringing a date?"
He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. "I can probably find one of those."
"I convinced Jessica to go ahead with an open bar," Amanda interjected. "I'll be fine with it. It's been three years, six months and twelve days, but I understand why they get worried. So, you come, Andy. Bring a date and have yourself a nice time."
He realized she was completely sincere. She looked healthy, he thought. Strong. She had color in her cheeks and had put on weight, although it was hard to notice with the work apron she seemed to wear every time he saw her now.
* * *
The vast local reserve was dotted with large shallow bodies of water. Rose couldn't decide if they were large ponds or small lakes. Regardless, the low water was perfect for Whooping cranes as they searched for snails, crabs and snakes while wading on their stilt legs. It was not meant for a shopping mall and office strip.
Trees huddled in clusters, erupting from the light brown soil that framed the water's edge. Bulldozers stood empty in the dawn ready for the drivers to start their careless destruction. For crying out loud, the cranes were so close to her, she could see a pair through her binoculars. They towered at five feet tall and were solid white with a blood red patch on top of their heads.
The support of the public continually impressed her. Donations, time. It looked like a few hundred faithful followers were there, along with a half-dozen media vans. According to the response from the social networking site, people attending were from fourteen different states and from Mexico. She'd been worried she might have forked out the funds to fly herself and Grace down here just to find out the media had a different breaking story. Yet, here they were. In force. She squinted and smiled.
Grace handed her the bullhorn. Rose did her best to prepare the crowd for what would likely emerge and to fire them up with whatever statistic she thought would be the most inspiring.
Slowly rotating the bullhorn, she spoke earnestly, making introductions and carefully describing the lay of the land. As she spoke, she made sure to face in the general direction of the television cameras and radio microphones.
"Due to human hunting, the Whooping crane population dwindled to a mere twenty-two in the 1940s. The folks at Operation Migration have sweat blood and tears to raise crane chicks and act as their parents, guiding them behind their glider planes to locales very near here. It costs over a hundred grand per chick to pay for the feed, equipment and cost of flying them behind the trikes to their wintering sites."
She gestured with her hands, encouraging the crowd as they created a sea of disgusted mumbles. "The local reservist who owns this land decided money was more important than a species." The crowd erupted into shouts of jeers and boos. She nodded her head dramatically as she and Grace rotated, back to back, like a team.
"Brady Construction swooped down on this property with its shopping mall blueprints and truckloads of waiting asphalt without one glance at the magnificent creatures just to the west of us. And we are here to say, 'No!' Someone has to stand up for those that can't help themselves!" Dramatically, she sighed at the sight of dust from a line of the first heavy equipment operators reporting for work.
Signaling to the mob, they circled the dormant earth movers and sat.
The construction crew was forced to park far away from the lines of vehicles and walk through the crowd. She lifted the bullhorn back to her mouth. "We must remember that we are the civilized in this face-off. We are here to exercise our right to protest and must keep our hands and objects off the workers at all times."
Grace rotated her head and whispered in her ear, "Mood killer."
Rose elbowed her in the back of the ribs. Watching the crew head to their equipment, she was always surprised at the number of relatively small and skinny heavy equipment operators. She always expected big, burly men. Noticing the one on his cell phone, she decided he must be the foreman. Go ahead and make that call. She smirked.
The operators kept their distance, waiting like they were in a standoff. The protestors held their ground. It took less than an hour for a set of black SUVs to dust up the gravel road out to the reserve. As Mr. Brady found the same problem with parking as his employees, he pulled into a spot well away from the commotion and stepped out with his own bullhorn.
Show time. Rose grinned.
She heard the helicopter flying overhead but kept her eyes on Brady. She wanted to give the flyby a good shot. Both she and the developer turned when it was clear the copter was making a landing. It was small. Looked like a two-seater. When that passenger stepped out with briefcase in hand, she felt her face redden and her clutched hands turned all sorts of colors of red. She knew that damned walk anywhere.
Andy.
Chapter 15
Andy avoided asking his uncle for much of anything. Nathan had given up enough, in Andy's opinion, when he took in him and Duncan as toddlers. But, he needed a plane and a pilot and had needed them fast. And, it wasn't for him, exactly. It was to help out an old family friend. Well, it would turn out to be for him once the economy picked up again. But for now, he was just making a wise investment. And helping Rose.
Her reaction was just
what he'd expected. Pissed as hell and ready for battle. In this case, he wouldn't want her any other way. His reaction was what he was never prepared for—a choke hold on his heart that seared through him. Her low-heeled leather boots and khaki dress pants hid what he knew was underneath. Smart and dangerous. Her round cheeks and porcelain skin concealed the best friend he had lost. She'd cut her hair. Andy was used to it now, short and croppy, exposing the nape of her neck. The t-shirt she wore mostly covered a blouse that matched the blue of her eyes. He could read the large print even from the distance. Craniac. Shit. He let out a half-laugh.
As he walked toward Mr. Brady, he kept an eye on her. She recognized him, of course, but hesitated. Analyzing what the hell he was doing. Good. Let her wonder.
Nodding to her as if passing on a sidewalk in the old neighborhood, he saw her eyes widen with rage. He wanted the developer to see that he and Rose knew each other. He could use that. The look on Brady's face said, young, dumb real estate agent with waste-of-time deal. He could use that, too. He'd done his homework like any good businessman would do. Brady had been iffy on this deal from the get go. Andy knew he could get him and he had a sixth sense for that kind of thing.
Keeping Rose in his peripheral vision, he approached Brady with an outstretched arm. Using a firm grip, he shook with the developer. "Insane, isn't it? Damned tree-huggers. It's a bird deal this time, right?"
Brady nodded.
"Oh, sorry. Name's Reed, Andy Reed. See that pretty little lady with the bullhorn getting ready to make her way on over here?" He turned, then shook his head. "That would be one Dr. Rosemarie Piper. Nasty as they come."
Mr. Brady had to yell over the rumble of the crowd. "Listen, boy, I assume you've come all the way out here to..."
"You've got that right, Mr. Brady, sir. We builders have to stick together. We're not breaking any laws. If the good people of this country didn't want our services, we wouldn't be in business, now would we?" He crossed his arms and shifted his weight between his legs.