Sparrow Migrations

by Cari Noga

  “Because I’ll need to be in bed by then, too,” added Julia, smiling and touching her belly in a gesture Brett remembered herself.

  “When are you due?”

  “August first. Less than two months.”

  “I’ve been telling her she’s got to work on her timing. She’ll be sweating out the dog days,” Pastor Sue said.

  “Congratulations.” Brett leaned forward eagerly. “It’s really a coincidence to be meeting with you. I’ve been wanting to try out an idea to expand your fundraising and volunteer base.”

  “The sooner we do both, the better,” Pastor Sue said.

  “Yes, go on, please, Brett.” Julia nodded.

  “You can do it by offering meal delivery to new mothers.”

  Julia and Pastor Sue raised four eyebrows back at her.

  “It’s not my own idea,” Brett added quickly. “I visited another church that implemented a program like that with a lot of success.”

  She summarized the Stork Express program Elizabeth had started in Charlotte.

  “You’re already doing meal preparation and delivery here. So without requiring any new resources—beyond more food—the Stork Express program expands the Alliance’s reach and reputation among an entirely new audience, one that can help sustain it.” She took a breath.

  “What’s such a wonderful coincidence is that you’re already plugged into the new mom community.” Brett nodded at Julia. “That would give us a head start.”

  Neither she nor Pastor Sue had said a word, though both scribbled notes as Brett talked. Suddenly conscious of the silence, Brett felt her nerves return. She hadn’t even let them ask the first question before she started rattling on.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sure you have questions for me.”

  Pastor Sue and Julia exchanged a look. Brett thought she detected an almost imperceptible nod. Pastor Sue turned and focused on her.

  “We do.” She paused. “I’ve never done this with a job candidate so quickly, but you make quite a first impression. You’re creative, you’re eager, you’re connected, you’re smart. You’re exactly who we need at the Alliance. When can you start?”

  Brett blinked. Was she serious?

  “Excuse me, I’m not sure I understand. We haven’t even finished the interview. You’re offering me the job?”

  “I am.” Pastor Sue nodded. “Our executive committee empowered me to make an immediate offer, to the right candidate, of course. But I imagine you’d probably like to see a little more of the Alliance operation first. Why don’t we head over to Immaculate Conception right now? We’ll take the scenic route and show you a little bit of Ithaca, too.”

  “All right,” Brett agreed, feeling a bit dazed.

  Julia drove and doubled as tour guide. “You can’t come to Ithaca and not see Cornell University. Of course, I’m biased. It’s my alma mater and paycheck provider now.”

  “Don’t forget Ithaca College,” Pastor Sue said from the backseat. “Remember, we’re headed to George’s place.”

  “George is our board member representing Immaculate Conception. He’s a pretty popular professor at Ithaca College. English Lit,” Julia said. “Education is pretty much Ithaca’s biggest industry. The K-12 schools have a great reputation, too.”

  “Do they?” Brett said neutrally.

  “Careful, Julia,” Pastor Sue said from the backseat.

  “I know, I know.” Julia waved her hand and rested it on her belly again. “We can’t ask you about children. But for me, right now, schools are so important. So I’m just saying, in case it would happen to be important for you, the schools here are very good. Public and private.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that,” Brett said. She looked out the window. Amanda would be a senior this fall. A bad time to start a new school. But could Brett really move away and leave her in Scranton? In the abstract, the idea of weekend visits seemed ideal, a year not so long. Now that the job appeared to be hers for the taking, Brett didn’t feel so sure of the happily-ever-after ending. Her track record predicting outcomes where Amanda was concerned hadn’t been very good lately, either.

  Yet Richard’s ultimatum was real. This job was an excellent match for her skills. A parent with New York residency could be a real plus for Amanda in just a year. And if she was completely honest, Brett admitted she liked the idea of a fresh start in a new place. So it all came down to timing. Would it play in her favor, or against? Sign, sign, everywhere a sign. Brett pressed her head to the window and scanned Ithaca’s leafy streets for one.

  Deborah wrapped her hands around the teacup at Campus Cantonese, enjoying the sensation of heat seeping through the thick china into her palms. It was barely summer, but the air-conditioning in the restaurant was giving her goose bumps.

  Then again, maybe it was because Christopher would show up any minute.

  Since he had moved into the vacant visiting faculty apartment, they had spoken on the phone a few times, mostly to negotiate logistics about their shared bank accounts. Otherwise, Deborah left him alone, giving him the space and time he’d said he needed. She filled her days with work, yoga, outings with Julia, and planning for the baby. Moments of anxiety and feeling overwhelmed still blindsided her. At work, Phillip was still an ass. But she had a sharp, new, black-and-white vision of her future.

  She had scanned and stored the ultrasound image on her work computer and stole looks at it throughout the day, as helpless to stop as any addict. The original sat in a frame on her nightstand, the first thing she saw upon awakening and the last thing at night. Staring at it, Deborah pondered the promise and mystery and fear within the black-and-white rectangle. She had never embarked on anything as uncertain and uncontrollable as motherhood. It was almost anathema to her nature. Yet she found herself facing the future with an equanimity Ming Su would applaud.

  Except for the times when her mind drifted to questions like whether the baby would have straight dark hair like hers or sandy strands like Christopher’s; Christopher’s aptitude for science or her own extroverted personality. The quicksand of Huntington’s lay around the edges of those questions, which she skirted as fast as she could.

  It was for the baby’s future that she asked Christopher to meet at Campus Cantonese, one of their regular restaurants. Decisions loomed—her job, their marriage, the future. She checked her purse again, making sure the envelope was still there.

  “Hello, Deborah.”

  His voice startled her, and tea sloshed over the edge of the cup as she set it down. First freezing, now burning.

  “Hello, Christopher,” she said, standing awkwardly. Should she shake hands? Hug him? Kiss him on the cheek? Ambiguously she leaned toward him, letting him take the lead. He went for the middle ground, the hug. But he clasped her around the shoulders, not her waist, keeping space between her growing belly and his trim one.

  He slid into the booth opposite her, his red Cornell shirt blending against the red vinyl.

  “Enjoying your summer freedom?” she asked.

  “Not so free this year. I’m teaching two classes.”

  “Really. No research?” Odd. Christopher usually cherished summer as his time to get out in the field.

  “Not much. I’ve got one trip planned later this summer. Vermont. Dr. Felk asked me to go with him on his annual Bicknell’s thrush expedition. But otherwise I’ll be sticking around here.”

  “How is Dr. Felk?” Deborah first met the older man at their wedding. They had had him over for dinner a handful of times when he visited campus. She liked him the way you would a grandfather. Christopher had wanted to stop by the museum on their New York trip back in January, but there hadn’t been time.

  “He’s fine. Holding his own.” The waitress arrived with the teapot and a menu for Christopher. Silently she mopped up the spilled tea and refilled Deborah’s cup. Deborah warmed her hands again as Christopher look
ed at the menu. The lo mein. As usual, Deborah bet with herself, hoping she would lose.

  She cleared her throat. “So what prompted you to teach this summer?”

  Christopher looked up. “Earning some extra money sounded like a good idea.”

  “Because?”

  “Because of the baby, of course, Deborah.”

  Her heart rose on a tide of hope. “Does that mean you’re coming home?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  The tide rushed back out, Deborah fighting the undertow.

  “Then what do you mean?”

  “You were right what you said at my office. This is moving forward. I’m going to be a father.” He stared off into space, as if reading lines he’d rehearsed. “I’ll live up to that. You can bank on it. But I’m—” he swiped a finger across his eye. Was he crying? “I’m still struggling with how it started. And whether I can stay married to you.”

  Deborah felt like he was spinning away from the table, refracting with the sparkly specks in the booth’s red vinyl.

  Behind his trifold, laminated shield, he took a deep breath. “Have you had the HD test yet?”

  “Have I had—what?”

  “The HD test. What Helen had. The screening for Huntington’s Disease.”

  “No.”

  Christopher looked taken aback, laying down his menu shield, on the offensive now. “Deborah, your genes aren’t going away. After the baby, I thought for sure you’d recognize the importance of addressing your health.”

  “It’s not after the baby yet. It’s before.”

  “Well, technically that’s true. But—”

  “It’s five months before, and I’m scared. You’ve dropped out of our lives. At least I know now you plan to send a check every once in a while. That will be a help. I assume you’ll be willing to put her on your health insurance, too?” She held her breath.

  “Well, yes, I suppose. But why wouldn’t you just add her to yours?”

  Belatedly processing the pronoun, Christopher’s eyebrows shot up. “Her? You know it’s a girl?”

  “Yes.” She reached into her purse. Her relief at his answer muted her anger, leaving her mostly sad. “Foolish as I am, I even thought you might like to see a picture.”

  “A girl,” Christopher repeated, quietly.

  “Not just a girl, Christopher.” Deborah stood to leave, dropping the envelope on the table. “Your daughter.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  How much farther?” Robby called from the backseat.

  “About an hour to Traverse City,” his mom answered.

  “Park first! Not the hotel!” Alarmed, Robby sat up, pulling his headphones off.

  His mom sighed, turning from the front passenger seat.

  “I know we said we’d go to the park first, Robby. But we got a late start and—”

  It was her be reasonable, Robby, voice. “Park first!” Robby insisted, squeezing his iPod tightly. “See the birds!” It was finally June. He’d waited and waited for June to arrive. For school to be over, to be on the road, every minute closing the distance between him and the piping plovers.

  “We can make it. The Visitors Center is open until five, right?” His dad was driving.

  “Sam, if we go there first, we’ll pass Traverse City. By the time we get to the hotel it’ll be going on seven. He’ll be starving, and we’ll still have to check in and—”

  “You know we’ve got to stick to the plan, Linda,” his dad said. “We can hit a drive-through.” He glanced at Robby in the rearview mirror.

  “We’ll go to the park first, buddy. Just like we planned.”

  Mollified, Robby sat back. First less yelling and sighing. Now his dad was on his side.

  “Why are we staying out in Traverse City, anyway?” his dad asked.

  “I couldn’t find any hotels closer. Just B and Bs,” his mom said. “If Robby had a meltdown, in front of nothing but couples—”

  “Right.” His dad nodded.

  As they droned on, Robby settled the headphones back over his ears and clicked “Play.” He was listening to his “Birds of the Great Lakes” playlist, the one he had made just for the trip. It had all the regular birds he saw in the backyard—sparrows, cardinals, blue jays, plus the piping plovers, the Kirtland’s warbler, and dozens of others.

  It was his second playlist. He already had “Birds of New England,” which started with Dr. Felk’s favorite, the Bicknell’s thrush. Listening to that one was usually relaxing. But today he kept glancing at his watch and then the car clock, which was two minutes ahead. Their trip was only three days long. He didn’t want to waste any time.

  They arrived at the Visitors Center with fifteen minutes to spare by his watch, thirteen by the car clock. Robby was outside before his dad even turned off the engine, galloping toward the entrance of the weathered, gray-blue building.

  Inside he saw a lady wearing the ranger uniform he’d seen online, a gray shirt and green pants. She was standing in a little office separated from the lobby.

  “Hi there. Can I help you?”

  Robby stepped up to the counter between them. She had a pencil tucked behind her ear. Her name tag said she was Ruth Heron, park ranger.

  “Like the lake?”

  “Excuse me?” Her dark eyebrows pulled together.

  “Your name. Like the lake?”

  She looked down at her nametag. “Oh. No, that’s Huron. H-U-R-O-N. Mine’s Heron. Like the bird.”

  “Oh.” Robby gazed past her thinking. Herons. He hadn’t downloaded them yet. Would they belong on his Great Lakes playlist? Or New England?

  She rested her elbows on the counter and leaned toward him. A long braid fell over her shoulder. “What’s your name?”

  “Robby.”

  “Hi, Robby. What brings you to the Sleeping Bear Dunes?”

  The Sleeping Bear Dunes. Robby’s brain pivoted. “Piping plovers.”

  Ruth cocked her head. “Do you want to see the plovers?”

  Robby nodded.

  “They’re out in the park. Not here.” She removed the pencil from behind her ear and tapped it on the counter twice as she spoke the last words.

  There was a container of pencils on his side of the counter. Green, the same color as her pants. Robby took one.

  “Then where?” Tap, tap.

  “Well, we have multiple nesting sites.”

  “I want to see them all,” Robby said, as the door opened behind him.

  “You’re welcome to do so, as long as you observe the breeding boundaries.”

  “Breeding boundaries?” It was his mom’s voice.

  “Yes.” Ruth’s eyes strayed to his parents. “Plovers are endangered birds, you know.”

  “Threatened,” Robby said. “Threatened birds.”

  “In other locations that’s true. On the East Coast, in the Great Plains. Here, they’re endangered.”

  “That’s worse, right?” His mom again.

  “Yes.” Ruth nodded. “And breeding’s the most critical time of year. So our plover patrols fence off their nesting areas to protect them.”

  “What happens to them?” his dad asked.

  “Predators get them.” Robby answered, as Ruth opened her mouth. “Or people scare them off the nests. Throwing footballs around, leaving garbage that draws the predators.”

  “That’s right,” Ruth said. “You sound like you’ve been doing some research.”

  “That’s an understatement,” his dad said. “We’ve come up from Detroit just to see these birds.”

  “Is that right? Wait, I’ll come out to join you.” She disappeared through a doorway.

  “What kind of predators?” his mom asked.

  “Crows and gulls.” Robby answered, bouncing on the balls of his feet, tapping the pencil again. “And racco
ons, and dogs. Right?”

  Ruth emerged around a corner, joining them in the lobby. The pencil was back behind her ear.

  “Right.” Ruth paused a moment. “Or the nests get washed out in a storm, if they’re situated too close to the water’s edge.”

  “Last year you lost four that way,” Robby said.

  “Right again.” The ranger nodded. “But so far this year, we’ve been lucky.”

  “The patrols can’t do anything about storms, though,” his mom said.

  “No. But they monitor the nests, make sure people observe the fenced-off perimeter. And provide the education. Most people are very respectful, really. We just get a few bad apples.”

  “I want to be on a patrol,” Robby said.

  “Oh, that’s out of the question.” Ruth shook her head, her dark braid flicking each shoulder. “Our monitor volunteers have all had special training. Piping plovers are very rare, special birds. Endangered, like I said. We have fewer than two dozen pairs here.”

  “I can learn.” Robby crossed his arms, rolling the pencil behind his elbow.

  His mom put her hand on his shoulder. “Robby, we’re just here for a few days, you know.” It was her be reasonable voice again.

  He shrugged off her hand and looked at Ruth. “I know what a football looks like. I can pick up garbage. I can learn the rest.”

  “You’re persistent, aren’t you?” Ruth said.

  “You can’t even imagine,” his mom said.

  “And you’re really interested in plovers,” Ruth said.

  Silently, Robby bobbed his head.

  “He’s in an Audubon club at home,” his dad spoke up suddenly.

  Robby looked up. Again, his dad on his side.

  “He’s very good at following directions. You wouldn’t have to tell him what to do twice,” his dad said.

  The ranger hesitated, tapping her pencil again. “Monitoring I can’t offer. But the local camera club’s taking a plover hike tomorrow morning. Meets here at seven, before we open. You could come along to see them, anyway.”