Skyward

by Mary Alice Monroe

  They walked from room to room while Harris explained everything, from the location of the BID, SID and QID charts to the medications of choice. Yet all she heard was a buzz in her head as she looked at the clinic with a nurse’s eyes. A bit disorderly, he’d said? Her worries and fears about the job were swept away by a familiar racing of her blood as years of nursing training kicked in—hard. Her fingers itched to work.

  To her mind, there was limited space, and from the looks of things, every person was doing multiple tasks. In the food-preparatory area, the countertops, sinks and the surrounding areas came into contact with food, blood, tissue and mutes. The forceps for both feeding and medical use were soaking together in a sink of soapy water. Charts were set down on the counters during food prep, then carried from the food-prep area down the hall to the treatment area. All manner of wonderful, life-saving work was going on of which Harris could be deservedly proud. No doubt about it. But all Nurse Majors saw was a hotbed of cross-contamination.

  “That’s the general layout,” Harris said when they’d finished the tour. He crossed his arms with the satisfaction and pride reserved for those who’ve built something wonderful from nothing. “I know there’s a lot to take in all at once, but you’ll get a better sense of the place once you actually start working here. Any questions?”

  “Oh, a few,” Ella replied, her eyes ablaze. She began rolling up her sleeves with the intensity of a woman on a mission. “Where’s the bleach, some soap, paper towels, a clean sponge and the broom?”

  A few days later when dusk was falling, Ella leaned against the gleaming counters of the food-prep area and thought to herself that she really should be heading back to the house to relieve Harris of his child-care duties and begin dinner. That thought floated lazily in her mind as she took a long, slow perusal of the cabinets, counters, equipment and tools of the clinic. Nary a tweezer nor a gauze pad was out of place.

  She was proud that she’d made her own small contribution to this already well-managed clinic, even if she hadn’t yet handled a bird. But Lord, she was tired. Her legs felt like lead from so many hours of standing and her hands were raw from scrubbing. Even the thought of having to make dinner seemed beyond her tonight. When she’d put in long hours at the hospital, she could come home and eat a bowl of cereal and be content. Here, however, she had Marion and Harris to cook for. Ella had a whole new appreciation for the plight of the working mother. She brought her hand to the back of her neck and began massaging away the knots, holding fast to the final few moments of quiet.

  The door swung open, interrupting her peace. Surprised, Ella swung her head to see Harris step into the clinic along with a crisp gust of rainy wind.

  “There you are. We were getting worried about you.”

  “I was just finishing up. Is it terribly late?” She darted her hand to her hair, tucking in the wayward tendrils. For the past several days they’d literally bumped into each other dozens of times in the confined space of the clinic. He never failed to fill the room with his presence and make the breathing air seem scarce. “I’m sorry. I took off my watch since I was scrubbing.”

  “It’s not that late,” he replied, closing the door behind him. His jacket dripped and he smelled of rain. As he pushed back his hood, a few drops of water clung to his long lashes while his eyes roamed the gleaming counters and cabinets. “Looks great,” he said, admiration glowing in his eyes. “Really, I hardly can believe it. You’ve turned the place around.”

  “It’s all part of my secret plan. Now, I’m the only one who knows where everything is so everyone has to come to me to find something. See? Instant indispensability!” She tapped her head. “Good ol’ Yankee ingenuity.”

  “I’m impressed. No more cross-contamination, right?”

  “You bet.”

  “I have to admit, when you first started this project I was a little skeptical—and even annoyed. You seemed to be only making more work, not lessening the demands. But now…” He nodded with affirmation. “I can see it was well worth the effort.”

  She flushed at the compliment. “And it will save time in the long run. Not to mention, save birds’ lives, too. And that’s the point, right?”

  “I knew it was the right thing to do to get you involved.”

  “Temporarily,” she hedged. “I’m still not a bird nurse.”

  “Not yet.”

  He held her eye and Ella couldn’t help the laugh that escaped with a shake of her head.

  “Speaking of which, I’ve got to do a follow-up check on the barred owl that was brought in. Want to try to handle your first bird?”

  “Now? Tonight?”

  “There won’t be a better time. It’s peaceful and quiet.”

  She felt her heart rate accelerate. “I’m pretty tired,” she replied in way of an excuse.

  “It won’t take long. Come on, Ella. You’re going to have to learn some time or another. Might as well be now.”

  He cajoled her into the critical-care room where rows of kennels lined the two shelves. The close space was pungent with the odor of bird mutes. Ella tightened her arms around herself to quell her shaking.

  “This is the one. Number 2036,” he said, pulling back the towel that draped the kennel.”

  The brownish-tan-and-gray owl stared out from the grate with its enormous, soulful black eyes. Its left wing was bandaged, as was one foot, and yet he stood straight and silent, like a wounded soldier, anticipating her every move.

  “He’s beautiful,” she said.

  “Yeah, I’m partial to barred owls. The southern species are tamer than their northern cousins. I like to think their mamas taught them their manners. Makes him a good bird to learn on. Don’t be fooled by its sweet face, though. All owls can give you what-for. Especially the great horned. Now, that’s a tough old bird. Got to know what you’re doing there.” He handed her a pair of thick, black rawhide gloves that went nearly to the elbow. As he studied the bird, she could see concern etched into his features. “Remember, a raptor’s feet and talons are their best line of defense. Always wear gloves.”

  Ella licked her lips and felt her breath quicken as she stared back at the seemingly docile owl. There was something about its stillness that unnerved her. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” she said, backing off a step. “What if I hurt him?”

  “It’s always a chance we take, but you have to start somewhere. This owl is in pretty weak shape so he won’t fight you much. Someone found him ensnared in barbed wire, struggling like the dickens to escape. He’s lucky the lady who found him cut the wire instead of trying to disentangle him. Still and all, there’s lots of tissue damage on the wings and a deep wound on the foot. Okay, let me show you how it’s done,” he said, moving closer to her.

  She felt her heart thudding in her chest so loudly she was sure he could hear it as he came to stand behind her and raise his hands to encircle her arms. She stiffened when his fingers made contact with her skin.

  “Relax,” he told her. “You’re shaking like a leaf. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  He couldn’t know, she thought as she tried to still her trembling, what turmoil his touch could bring her. He couldn’t know how long it had been since anyone had touched her, even innocently, like this. Her skin was like arid soil when the first drops of rain fall—absorbing, awakening, quickening, coming alive again and greening.

  “Get in close so you can block his escape route,” he was saying, his breath close to her ear as he guided her arms. “Al ways hold your hands in the ready…like this… That’s right.”

  She nodded in the crook of his arm, feeling his soft chamois shirt against her cheek.

  “The main thing is to go in real slow and calm, so as not to frighten him too much. You don’t want him banging his wings around in there. That might cause feather damage. Once you’ve got him, gather the bird’s wings and gently fold them close against the body,” he explained, guiding her arms. He removed his hands but remained standing near. “Ready
to try?”

  When he stepped aside, she took a deep breath and nodded, feeling the cool air rush between them to clear her muddled thoughts. She had to focus, she told herself as she looked back at the dark eyes of the owl.

  She brought to mind the day—oh, so many years ago—when she’d had to give an injection to a child for the first time. Her hands had trembled then like now and she was equally certain that she’d hurt the child, somehow send him into a death spiral thus failing miserably as a nurse. She hadn’t, of course. The whole procedure had gone smoothly, yet afterward she was shaking more than the child. Remembering that incident, and how she’d survived it, helped steady her nerves. She’d get through this, she told herself. She just had to have confidence.

  The owl stared wide and alert as Ella slowly opened the kennel gate. It creaked on the rusted hinges. The owl didn’t move, but she sensed its nervous coiling of muscle as her gloved hands moved into his space. Gentle, gentle, she told herself as she inched her way closer. Suddenly, the bird lunged back against the far wall of the kennel, flapping its one unbandaged wing loudly against the confined plastic walls. She squinted her eyes against the fury of wing beats and moved in, panic welling up in her chest as the owl thrust its feet and talons at her and began viciously biting her glove. She moved quickly to grab hold of its legs, and once secured, she reached around with her free hand to fold in the flapping wing.

  “Good! You’ve got him,” Harris said from behind her. “Now, bring him out and keep a good grip on his talons. That’s right,” Harris said, watching her every move.

  Reassured by his guidance, she followed his instructions.

  He stood back and put his hands on his hips, grinning. “Congratulations, Ella. Nice job.”

  Ella flushed with pleasure and released a long breath of pent-up air. She held in her arms this wonderfully wild creature. It was, she knew, a rare privilege.

  “I can’t believe I’m holding an owl,” she said, a bit breathless from the exertion. She looked down at the beautiful bird held secure in her gloves. “I’ve always loved owls. I used to try to find them in the woods in Vermont. I’d prowl around looking for whitewash on trees or pellets on the ground. I liked to pick the pellets apart like a treasure to discover the tiny bones of rodents. Sometimes I’d see one roosting in a tree but always at a distance. Never this close. I feel like I’m breathing rarefied air.”

  She looked up then and saw him gazing at her intently, as though he were trying to understand who she was and take her measure.

  “Anyway,” she said, feeling a sudden cockiness, “I guess this wasn’t so hard after all.”

  As though it had heard, the owl turned its head on its amazing axis and nipped her chest.

  Ella gasped in pain and lurched back. She kept a firm grip on the bird but leaned away from the curved beak that was holding fast to her breast.

  Harris lunged forward to pry open the owl’s beak. The T-shirt was puckered but no blood seeped through.

  “You okay?”

  Ella peered down her shirt at her bruised skin. “He didn’t break the skin, but ouch, that hurt!”

  “A love bite,” Harris said as he put a towel over the owl’s head.

  “Yeah, great,” Ella murmured, her chest still stinging and her pride prickling. “Talk about a comeuppance.”

  “You did great, Ella. You stayed calm and kept hold of your bird. I didn’t expect you to get bit right off the bat. We all get nipped sooner or later, but it’s official now. You’ve gone through hazing with flying colors.” He smiled at her so brightly the pain eased. “Welcome to the club.”

  A few weeks later, Harris sat on the floor of his living room across a playing board from Marion. It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but they’d already dressed and undressed Gaudy Lulu a dozen times, played several hands of Old Maid and long ago abandoned the dollhouse. This was the third round they’d played and Harris thought he was about to lose his mind.

  Marion, however, seemed to be having a wonderful time. She was chattering away like a magpie. He could make little sense of her nonending, convoluted sentences and found his thoughts drifting off to other matters. Occasionally he’d mutter a mechanical “uh-huh” or “oh, yeah?” response to Marion’s questions.

  His mind wandered to what Ella was doing in the clinic that morning. Two owls—a barred and a screech—had been admitted the day before with serious eye trauma. The screech’s left eye was so bad it was unlikely it’d regain sight. And some Good Samaritan had brought in an osprey all the way from Beaufort. The ospreys were only just arriving in the Lowcountry, setting up nests, and already this poor fellow was found with its chest impaled with multiple fishhooks. It was in pretty bad shape and would require very tricky treatment. Was Ella up to it? he wondered. If he could just slip into the clinic for a few minutes…

  He pursed his lips knowing he couldn’t. He’d already had several arguments with Ella on this point since they’d started this arrangement. His job was to stay a few hours with Marion and not turf her off to someone else. Ella had taken to her job like the proverbial duck to water. All her nursing skills came into play, as he’d suspected they would, and she proved to be adept at treatments. She was still a little gun shy at get ting the raptors from the kennels, but the other, more experienced volunteers were able to cover that for her. Once at the treatment table, Ella had no difficulties dispensing medical care.

  Hell, the truth was, she’d come on like gangbusters, sending the dust flying and turning the place around, just as she had in the house. The clinic had never been so clean and organized.

  At first he’d been a tad disappointed that the first thing she’d see at the clinic were microorganisms on work surfaces. Sure, he knew that bacteria could be transferred into a bird’s body with fatal results, but most people who worked here were awed by the fierce beauty and commanding presence of the raptors. Most developed strong feelings and a dedication to rehabilitate them. Ella seemed a little stand-offish with the birds. Her emotions connected instead with preventing contamination, cleaning and disinfecting. Little typed signs were posted all over the clinic for infection and disease prevention, each with numbered instructions under headings such as: Wash your Hands! Keep Food Off the Treatment Table! Keep Medical and Food Instruments Separate!

  The volunteers joked about the signs, but beneath the humor he saw respect.

  He had to admit he was a little jealous. While Ella was making a difference in the clinic, all he was doing was sitting on the floor, rolling the dice and moving some blue peg around a brightly colored game board.

  “Daddy!”

  He blinked, realizing that Marion had been calling him. “What?”

  “It’s your turn,” she said, clearly exasperated.

  “Oh. Okay. Sure.” He picked up the dice and rolled it. Six. He looked at the board with a blank expression. “Now, where am I?”

  Marion frowned and pushed away the board. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

  Harris couldn’t disguise the relief on his face. “You don’t have to. What do you want to do next?”

  “Watch TV.”

  “Nope. Not an option. Want to pick out another game?”

  She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the ground.

  “What about this one?” he asked, pulling from the cupboard some silly game where they had to do surgery on a battery-operated game board.

  Marion shook her head no.

  “What’s the matter, honey?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, tell me.”

  She just groaned and stretched out on the floor as if she was tired.

  He felt a sudden panic. “Are you feeling sick? Is that it? Maybe I should check your blood.”

  She snapped her head up and her eyes were narrowed. “No! You don’t have to check my blood.”

  His stomach dropped, thinking that they were headed for a temper tantrum. They hadn’t had one in weeks and it just went to prove that he wasn’t up to taking care of her. He
stood up, reaching out for her hand.

  “Come on, let’s just do it.”

  “No, Daddy! I don’t need to.” She mulishly kicked the playing board, sending the pieces flying.

  Convinced her blood sugar was dropping, his heart began pounding. “Stay there,” he ordered as he hurried from the room to gather the test kit from the bathroom. How could he have not noticed, he berated himself? He’d missed the signals. Again. His hands shook as he took the test kit from the bathroom shelf.

  When he returned to the living room, Marion was gone.

  “Marion?” he called. Even as he looked for her in the kitchen and raced up to the bedroom, he knew in his bones that she’d run out. He pushed open the back door and ran outside, feeling panic rise in his chest. “Marion!”

  The little girl was nowhere to be seen. He did a quick run around the house, then across the lawn straight for the clinic. He burst through the door, breaking all rules by raising his voice.

  “Ella! Is Marion in here?”

  Ella rushed out from the treatment room wearing an X-ray apron. Her face was tense and alert. “What? Is she missing?”

  “She ran out of the house.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Just minutes.”

  Ella took a breath. “She can’t have gone far. Let me get this owl back in the kennel and I’ll help you look. She’s got to be right around here.”

  Harris turned on his heel and headed for the med units. Inside, he found Clarice and Brady scrubbing out Med Unit 8 while the two ospreys inhabiting the space were huddled in the corner as far away from them as they could get. But no Marion. Coming back outside, he saw Ella running toward him from the clinic.

  “Where have you looked so far?” Ella asked.

  “The house, the clinic, the med building.”

  “How about the resident birds? She likes the crows.”

  “The crows,” he muttered, the connection clicking in his brain.