A Daughter's Legacy

by Virginia Smith

  Then she noticed the caution etched on his face. “The next part isn’t as pleasant.”

  Kelli was instantly on guard. “What’s that?”

  He picked up a dustpan, a paint scraper and a scrub brush. “We get to clean the animals’ enclosures.”

  Kelli twisted her lips and scowled. Lovely. I’m being paid eight-fifty an hour to pick up poop.

  Jason lifted a shoulder. “It’s part of the job.”

  With a heavy sigh, she held out a hand for the dustpan. “I suppose it is. All right, then. Let’s do it.”

  They loaded as many of the bowls as they could fit on the top shelf of a rolling utility cart and left the small room.

  “We’ll start with the porcupines,” Jason told her as he guided the cart to the far end of the building.

  “Because they’re at the end?”

  “Because they’re so cute.”

  “Porcupines are cute?” She gave him a disbelieving stare.

  His smile held a touch of pride. “Ours are.”

  When they reached the last exhibit, Kelli examined the pair of occupants with a growing sense of dismay.

  “I thought this was the Small Animal building.”

  These creatures definitely didn’t qualify. Their black bodies were at least three feet long, with an impressive cluster of white quills that protruded behind them like peacock feathers and made them appear even bigger. When they caught sight of Kelli and Jason, both of them waddled over to a panel on the far side of their enclosure.

  “They’re about average-sized for African crested porcupines.” Jason turned a grin on her. “You ready to meet your first animals?”

  Kelli eyed the spiny creatures now standing on their hind legs, their front paws against the glass while they watched her through beady black eyes. “Are they safe? They won’t shoot their spines at me?”

  “That’s a myth. Porkies don’t shoot their spines. Mostly they rattle them to frighten their enemies.” He selected several large chunks of carrots out of the biggest bowls on the cart. “But we’re not their enemies. Nothing to worry about.”

  Kelli followed him to a door beside the enclosure and waited as he unlocked it. It opened onto a room about the size of a closet. Half the space had been partitioned off, and she could see the outline of a panel separating it from the porcupines’ exhibit. A second panel opened into the enclosure from the front of the closet.

  Jason moved as far inside as possible and gestured for her to join him. “We never open up an animal’s enclosure with the keeper’s closet door open. It’s a safety procedure.”

  With a gulp, Kelli stepped inside. He reached beyond her and pulled the door closed. The only light came from the cracks around the two panels leading into the exhibit. She shrank against the rear wall, trying to take up as little of the limited space as possible, but even so, she couldn’t avoid brushing against Jason as she moved.

  His voice sounded soft and alarmingly close. “Now, I’m going to open this panel and we’ll go inside. They’ll be curious about you, but don’t be afraid. They won’t hurt you.”

  “Are you sure?” Fear quivered in her voice and she was glad for the darkness so Jason couldn’t see the panic that must surely be evident on her face. She had managed to avoid contact with animals for eighteen years, but that was about to come to an end in a close encounter with a couple of ginormous pincushions.

  A strong, comforting hand gripped her upper arm. “I’m positive. Trust me.”

  There he went again, asking her to trust him. She didn’t, not even a little bit. But at the moment, she had no choice.

  She heard a metallic rattle as he unlatched the front panel. Then he backed up to swing the board inward and pressed against her for an instant. Kelli’s head buzzed as blood rushed through her veins, maybe from Jason’s touch, or maybe from the knowledge that there were large, prickly animals on the other side of that wall. She didn’t know which and didn’t have time to spend in contemplation. In the next instant, the panel swung wide and light flooded the keeper closet. Jason, moving slowly, stepped over a two-feet-high lip and into the enclosure. The pair of spiny creatures huddled around his legs, sniffing his shoes. He turned and extended a hand toward her.

  “Come on. Don’t be afraid.”

  Her mouth tasted cottony and she couldn’t even manage to swallow. Gulping a fortifying breath, she reached out and grabbed Jason’s hand. He might be the enemy, and she didn’t trust him, but at least he was human. At the moment he was the only semi-familiar thing she had to hold on to.

  And hold she did. Even after she eased into the porcupine’s enclosure, she continued to clutch his hand with a death grip as the curious animals nosed around her shoes.

  “This is Gasira.” Jason pointed to one of the creatures. “Her name means bold and courageous.”

  The second porcupine finished its inspection of her shoes and, to Kelli’s horror, rose up on its hind legs and rested a pudgy paw on her thigh so it could nose around her waist. Terrified to move, Kelli froze and stared down at the creature’s face. Pink skin surrounded its small, dark eyes, the rest covered in coarse black hair. The delicate curve of pink ears was visible, flat against the narrow head. The long hair became white at the end, and swept back from the animal’s forehead in a sort of bouffant to blend with the black-and-white spines covering the lower two-thirds of its body.

  A similarity struck her so strongly that a nervous laugh escaped her lips. “That hair makes it look like an old-fashioned televangelist.”

  Jason chuckled. “He does, doesn’t he? His name is Baya. That means ugly in Swahili.” He released her hand to unzip a pouch at his waist.

  Kelli examined Baya. His paw rested against her jeans with a light touch, while his slitted nostrils twitched upward. “I’m afraid the name fits.”

  “Nah. Baya’s a fine-looking fellow, isn’t he, Gasira?” He spoke to the female now nosing his knee as he extracted two chunks of carrots. “Here, give him one of these.”

  Kelli extended the carrot to Baya with a tentative gesture, amazed when he took it gently from her fingers. He dropped to all fours and turned his back on her, his spines spread. Alarmed, she backed away.

  “What’s he doing?”

  Jason shrugged, unconcerned. “Just guarding his food, mostly from Gasira. She’s a pig. She’ll gulp down her own and try to steal his if he’s not careful.”

  Kelli’s fear began to slip away as she watched the two eat, fascinated in spite of herself. She’d never admit it to Jason, but it was kind of cute the way they held the carrots between their leathery front paws and gnawed with long, rabbit-like teeth. Sure enough, Gasira finished hers first and began to edge toward Baya, but he shifted his body so she encountered only his spines.

  When they’d finished, Jason reached into the closet and pulled a rope, which raised the second panel and opened an entrance into the partitioned-off section.

  “This is called a shift,” he explained. “We have one for almost every animal at the zoo, except for some of the smaller ones who shift into crates. Part of their training is to learn to shift so we can have access to their enclosures without them being inside.”

  Sure enough, the moment the board rose, both Baya and Gasira waddled obediently inside. Jason rewarded each with another carrot before lowering the panel.

  “Now we can clean without them underfoot.” His lips twisted into an apologetic grimace. “This is the fun part.”

  He stepped outside to retrieve the dustpan, scraper and an empty bucket, which he brought inside to her. Then he pointed beyond an obstacle course of fake boulders and tree stumps, where a nest of straw filled the far corner of the enclosure.

  “That’s their preferred area,” he explained.

  Preferred for what? Kelli started to ask, but then she realized what he meant. Part of the straw was disgustingly wet and dirty. Setting an iron guard on her stomach, Kelli took the items from Jason’s hands and started resolutely for the corner. He pulled a pair of rubber g
loves out of his back pocket and offered them.

  As she pulled on the gloves, he asked casually, “How’re you doing with the smell?”

  With a start, Kelli realized she hadn’t noticed the odor for some time. Here she was, up to her ankles in porcupine poop, and the smell wasn’t gagging her. The inside of my nostrils have probably been permanently damaged from ammonia burns or something like that. I’ll never be able to smell properly again. A second thought followed. He was right, doggone it. You do get used to the smell.

  But to Jason she only replied coolly, “It still stinks in here.”

  He laughed and left her alone to do her dirty job.

  Chapter Seven

  By the time they finished with the last exhibit, Jason decided Kelli didn’t look quite as haughty as before. The zoo had opened to the public at nine, and there was something humbling about scrubbing the filthy floor of an animal enclosure on your hands and knees while a dozen preadolescent children stood with their noses pressed to the glass, making loud comments about the “great big monkey” inside. At least all the animals had cooperated and shifted without incident. Sometimes the squirrel monkeys liked to be difficult, but even they’d gone into their shift without too much trouble.

  The high-pitched voices of shrieking children echoed off the concrete floor and glass windows of the Small Animal building as he led Kelli back into the workroom. He stepped inside and closed the door behind them, cutting off the worst of the noise. She sighed in obvious relief.

  “Loud, aren’t they?” Jason pushed the cart into a corner and emptied the bucket full of fouled straw into a garbage can. “That’s why I prefer early mornings and late nights, when I have the place to myself.”

  “Still, I suppose they pay the bills.” She peeled off her rubber gloves and tossed them in the can.

  “That’s true.”

  She sank against the counter and folded her arms across her chest. “So, they’re all fed and cleaned. What’s next?”

  Jason resisted the urge to remove a piece of straw from the unruly dark curls that hung around her shoulders. “Lunch.”

  “I’m not hungry yet.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s only eleven thirty.”

  “Not us. Them.” He jerked his head toward the door to indicate the inhabitants of the Small Animal building.

  Dismay colored her features. “They eat lunch, too?”

  He laughed. “Some of them. Look here.” He lifted one of the charts on the wall and showed her the page beneath it listing PM Diets and Snacks. “In the wild many of these animals hunt for food all day. We try to keep their lives in captivity as close to their natural environment as possible.”

  With a loud sigh, she reached for the butcher knife she’d used earlier. “Okay. Bring on the yams.”

  The sound of a key in the lock made Jason turn as the door opened. A bushy gray beard entered first, followed by a familiar face and rotund body.

  “Ah, Pete.” Jason nodded a greeting at the man. “Glad you stopped by. I have someone I’d like you to meet. This is Kelli Jackson, a new assistant keeper who just started today. Kelli, Dr. Pete Morgan, our veterinarian.”

  Kelli shifted the knife to her left hand so she could shake Pete’s with her right. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Morgan.”

  He dismissed the formality with a wave. “Call me Pete.” His blue eyes appeared twice their normal size as he peered at her from behind thick lenses. “You look familiar. We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

  Kelli shot a quick glance at Jason before answering. “I don’t think so, but you might have seen me yesterday at the memorial service.”

  Recognition dawned on Pete’s face and his expression became sorrowful. “You’re Lil’s daughter. My dear, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  The corners of her mouth twitched upward briefly as she mumbled, “Thank you,” and then she looked awkwardly at the floor. Jason knew how she felt. When Dad died earlier this year, everyone wanted to tell him how sorry they were. People meant well, of course, but no one else could possibly know what you were going through. Of course, he’d been close to Dad. Kelli barely knew her mother, which must make it even more difficult to accept the sympathy of strangers.

  “So, Pete, are you making your rounds?”

  “Yes, yes.” The man fumbled with the papers on a clipboard, tilting his head upward to examine them through the bottom half of his bifocals. “I wanted to check on the desert cottontail. Is Raul here?” His gaze circled the room, as though expecting Raul to step out of a corner.

  “He sprained his ankle last night,” Jason told him.

  Pete winced. “Oh, that’s too bad. He called yesterday to report that one of the cottontails was lethargic and may be sickening. Did you notice any odd behavior this morning?”

  Jason shook his head. “They both appeared to be fine.”

  The radio at Jason’s belt erupted into life. Cameron’s voice. “Jason, you’d better get over here.”

  Cameron was the keeper in charge of primates. Was something wrong with one of the animals? He unclipped the radio and answered. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s an AZA inspector here.”

  Jason’s pulse kicked up a notch. Cougar Bay was in the process of completing the application for reaccreditation with the Association for Zoos and Aquariums, but it wasn’t due until September first. The formal inspection, a nerve-racking experience that kept every staff member biting their nails for months, wouldn’t be scheduled until a few months after the application was submitted. Why was an inspector snooping around?

  “I’m on my way.” Jason pulled the keys out of his pocket and thrust them at Kelli. “Give Pete a hand and then start on the afternoon diets. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Panic erupted on Kelli’s face. She raised her palms and took a backward step. “I don’t know how to help a veterinarian!”

  Jason didn’t have time to coddle her. He tossed the keys onto the counter with an impatient gesture. “It’s a rabbit,” he snapped. “It won’t hurt you.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, but whirled and hurried out of the room. The door slammed with a resounding thud behind him.

  Anger buzzed in Kelli’s brain as she stared at the shut door. He didn’t have to be rude. Of course she wasn’t afraid of a rabbit, but she felt a lot more competent chopping yams than corralling the Easter Bunny for a vet exam.

  Pete watched her from behind those enormous lenses, his cheeks rosy and his forehead slightly damp from the stuffy air in the workroom.

  She forced herself to speak normally. “I’m sure you don’t need a novice like me hanging around. If you want to go ahead and do whatever it is you have to do, I’ll just start working on the diets, like Jason said.”

  “I can’t go in there alone.” The man looked scandalized at the idea. “Zoo rules specify that a keeper must be present at all times when a member of the veterinary staff interacts with an animal. They’re very strict about that.”

  “I’m only an assistant keeper.” Kelli let her voice drop into a confiding tone. “And between you and me, I don’t have any experience working with animals.”

  “Then you’re in luck.” The man’s face erupted with a smile. “I have a lot of experience.”

  His confidence went a long way toward putting her at ease. Pete was a veterinarian; he spent his whole life handling animals. There was nothing for her to be nervous about.

  They left the workroom and wound their way through people and strollers toward the rabbit enclosure. Kelli found the key labeled Cottontails in the jumble on Jason’s key ring. She unlocked the door and gestured for the vet to precede her. Once inside, he unlatched the panel and stepped right into the enclosure. The pair of rabbits scurried away to huddle beneath an out-cropping, shivering with fright. Kelli remained in the closet while the veterinarian squatted on his haunches and duck-walked through the fresh straw. A small crowd gathered on the other side of the glass to watch.

  “Ah, here we are.” Pete beamed up
at her and held a terrified bunny carefully in both hands.

  “Look here, my dear. This little fellow is afraid, but other than that he appears to be entirely normal. Notice the coloring of his eyes, and the healthy layer of fat around the midsection. Now, if there was a problem, you might see…”

  With a sigh, Kelli pretended to listen attentively as the doctor warmed to his subject.

  Jason walked toward the primate area as quickly as he could without breaking into a run, a thousand questions whirling through his mind. Interim inspections weren’t unheard of, but usually performed only if there was cause to suspect a major problem. Even then, AZA was supposed to give some advance notice. Why was an inspector paying an unscheduled visit? Had someone filed a complaint about something? Jason clenched his jaw. Maybe AZA had gotten wind of Bob’s last escape attempt. Thank goodness he’d gotten that fence repair finished.

  The zoo was crowded today, he noted with distracted satisfaction. Big, fluffy clouds provided an occasional break in the heat as they floated across the blue sky, which made things pleasant for zoo goers and animals alike. He skirted the edge of the sidewalk to allow two mothers pushing a pair of orange rental strollers side-by-side to pass, then took the path to the left, toward the primates.

  A wide-eyed Cameron met him in front of the capuchin enclosure. “He’s over there, by the tamarins. See the guy in the green shirt?”

  Jason looked in the direction Cameron indicated. A tall man in his mid-thirties stood with his feet spread apart, hands clasped behind his back, studying the black-and-white primates intently. He didn’t look familiar. “Did he introduce himself?”

  Cameron, a young, slightly built guy who’d joined Cougar Bay last year, shook his head. “I recognize him from when we went through the AZA inspection in my last job, when I was interning up in Georgia. I’m sure it’s the same guy.” Worry colored the kid’s tone. “What do you think he’s doing here?”

  Since the accreditation application consisted of an extensive amount of documentation that touched literally every area of the zoo, all the employees were involved. Everyone knew the status of the project and that an unannounced inspection six weeks before the submission deadline was cause for concern.