Wingspan

by Karis Walsh

  Bailey pushed away from the railing and stood up. “Thank you for helping me move the osprey,” she said. She saw Ken’s frown as the mood changed with her obvious dismissal, and she tried to soften the transition between their conversation and her good-bye. “I’ll contact you if there’s any change in his condition, but he seems to be recovering nicely. Thank you for…for reminding me why I moved here, and that it’s worth doing whatever it takes to stay.”

  “I needed some reminding myself,” Ken said. She stood and walked off the porch, giving Bailey’s hand the barest brush with her own as she passed. “See ya, Dr. Chase.”

  Bailey stood in her doorway and watched Ken drive away. Once the dust had settled, she looked at the hand Ken had touched. Surprisingly, it appeared unchanged, although the brush of skin had felt potent enough to alter it somehow. She should have kept the gloves on after she’d moved the osprey—she needed every defense at her disposal where Ken was concerned.

  Chapter Seven

  Ken sat on a bench in the large plaza, a crossword puzzle book open on her lap and a thermos of coffee at her side. The bronze-tinted glass skyscraper that housed the Impetus offices was at her back, and all around her the business district in modern, urban downtown Bellevue was seething to life. She had made light of the long commute when she and Ginny had discussed the move to the Peninsula, but she had to admit it required plenty of time and planning. She was trying different combinations of driving and ferry rides every day in her search for the most efficient route, but ferry cancellations and traffic patterns were unpredictable. She felt safest when she gave herself an extra hour to get to work, and she’d much rather arrive early and sit in the bright morning sun than pace back and forth on a delayed ferry.

  Five Across: Whistler’s Mother, in the kitchen. Ken used her green Sakura Micron pen to print off her rocker in the tiny squares. A large gray city squirrel scampered over to her with an undulating stride and hopped onto the metal arm of Ken’s bench. He stared at her, barely blinking and obviously unafraid. She capped the pen and reached into her messenger bag for her lunch, popping open the plastic sandwich carrier and ripping some bread and lettuce off a chicken salad sandwich. She tossed the offering toward the squirrel and put the remainder of her lunch away while he nibbled the grainy bread. She had spent most of the weekend on her property, eating her homemade meals there and reading or drawing in the shade of a pink-flowered hawthorn tree. She had discovered her new neighbors included chipmunks and the small brown squirrels she had identified as Douglas squirrels—far different from the fat gray ones she was accustomed to seeing in the cities, like the fellow sharing her bench.

  After her unimpressive start at Impetus with Jessica last week, Ken worried her time at the lucrative job might be limited. As much as she’d be relieved to be let go, she needed the money. Until her house was built, and while she was paying rent on an apartment along with land payments, she would save as much as possible. Instead of movies or dinners out, she had picnics on her bluff with simple sandwiches and fruit. No complaints. She had made not only her own school lunches, but those for her working parents, from the time she was tall enough to reach the kitchen counter. She had enjoyed creating sandwiches as if she were designing a building, combining textures and shapes as much for the finished appearance as for taste. As she got older, she had fallen out of the habit of making lunches, since doing anything besides buying bland fries and pizzas in the school cafeteria was yet another sign of difference and another reason for ridicule by the more popular students. So Ken had bought her lunch as well, looking like everyone else on the outside while hiding her real self deep inside.

  But no one saw her on her property. She was safe to relax, be herself, and eat her unique creations. She’d carried the habit through the work week also, since she didn’t think anyone cared what she ate at Impetus. Besides, saving money was more important than saving face. She had a single goal in mind—to have her house and her privacy. Then she could tackle goal number two and find a workplace better suited to her.

  Any workplace, as long as Dougie wasn’t there, she amended when she looked up and saw him standing by her. Ken’s squirrel snatched up the remaining hunk of bread and scampered away.

  “Hey, Ken. I thought that was you.” He shaded his eyes from the bright morning sun with his hand. “I was hoping to catch up with you last week, but Joe said you were out on a site with Jess. Mind if I join you?”

  He sat down without waiting for her to answer, resting his arm along the back of the bench and peering at her crossword. “Thirty-two across is lithium,” he said.

  “You know I hate it when you do that,” Ken said as she closed her puzzle book. She felt her cheek twitch as she fought to keep from smiling. She didn’t want to see Dougie or to be reminded of how close they had been. He wasn’t part of her life anymore. “I suppose I have you to thank for my job at Impetus.”

  Dougie shrugged and pushed his sandy brown bangs out of his eyes. “We lost a couple of good architects recently. One retired and one moved out of state. Joe asked us to let him know if we knew of anyone strong enough to replace them, and I thought of you. You were the most talented artist I ever knew. Well, except for—”

  “Stop,” Ken said. Any sentimental feelings she had been having about Dougie were cut dead by his obvious allusion to Steve. “I won’t talk about him.”

  “It’s okay, I understand,” he said, giving her a quick squeeze on the shoulder before dropping his arm along the bench again. She managed to keep from jumping away from his touch, but she knew her reflexive cringe was visible.

  “How did you know I was working as an architect?” She had to change the subject. He didn’t seem prepared to leave her alone, no matter how brusque she was, and she clearly couldn’t let him pick their topic of conversation. Even sitting in silence until he left was no longer an option for her because now Steve’s presence was too palpable in her mind. She needed to talk about anything else—if she had to talk at all.

  “Vanessa had a bulletin board at our high school reunion, with all the students and what careers they were in now. But I never expected you to be anything else,” he said. He pushed his bangs aside again and Ken wanted to pin him down and cut them off. The gesture was too familiar, and every time he repeated it, a different shared memory resurfaced. They were studying or throwing D&D dice or calibrating a telescope. “You were always drawing. I remember when you and Steve…I remember when you designed that entire fantasy kingdom, with houses for the gods and even stables for the mythical creatures. You were the one who got me interested in architecture, so I guess I wanted to repay the favor by recommending you for Impetus. You’re perfect for this place.”

  Not perfect. Not even interested. Ken vaguely remembered the phone call from class president Vanessa several years ago. She had declined the bubbly offer to attend the ten-year reunion, but Vanessa had kept her talking for over an hour. So that uncomfortable conversation was the indirect cause of the recent turn of events in her life? Ken was going to be more careful about screening her calls from now on. “I thought you’d be working for NASA someday,” she admitted. Dougie’s love of space and stars and science fiction had rivaled her own fascination with buildings and design.

  “Me, too.” He shrugged. “I still love astronomy, but I took a couple architecture classes in college, sort of as a way to relive old memories, I guess, but I found out I had a real knack for it. I was planning to get married, so when my guidance counselor suggested it as a career, it seemed like a good idea.”

  “You’re married?” Ken asked. Focus on his present, not on their past. Funny how she fought to keep memories out of sight, but Dougie actively sought ways to keep them alive.

  “Yeah.” He fished a phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Her name is Marcia, and we met freshman year at Princeton. We have two girls. Betsy is nine and Sarah is five. I’ve told them all about you, and I’d love to have you meet them sometime. Maybe at the company picnic next month?�
��

  Company picnic? No way. Besides, Ken wasn’t sure she’d last a month at Impetus. She looked at the picture of two smiling brown-haired little girls. The older one wore round glasses and looked like a female version of Dougie when Ken had first met him. She had been the new kid—a familiar but uncomfortable position for her—and had sat at her desk, bewildered and nervous, when the teacher told them to split into groups for a class project. But Dougie and Steve had scooted their desks next to hers, drawn by her Spider-Man lunchbox, and their immediate and unexpected acceptance had made the three fast friends. Over the next years, they had gathered other kids into their group—usually misfits who didn’t quite fit in the mainstream—but the three of them had been the core. Dougie had been friendly and intelligent, perpetually curious. Steve, even at ten, had been sensitive and introspective. Ken had been the leader, dragging her new friends along every time she came up with a new scheme.

  “Cute kids,” she said, returning Dougie’s phone. In a different life, she’d probably be known as Aunt Ken to these girls. But not in this one. She glanced at her watch. “It’s time for work,” she said, putting her crossword book into her messenger bag and closing the flap. “Don’t we have a meeting this morning?”

  “First thing every Monday,” Dougie said. He stood up when she did. “You’ll enjoy them. We share information on the various projects we have going, and everyone helps brainstorm to solve problems. It’s a collaborative, creative space. I’ve never experienced anything like it at my other jobs.”

  Great. Nothing like being put on the spot in front of the entire firm. She hadn’t been able to come up with a single interesting suggestion during her entire week with Jessica, and she doubted her dry spell was likely to disappear when she was confronted by the room full of architects and designers.

  “I’m not familiar with any of the projects yet,” she said as they walked through the revolving glass door and headed to the elevators. “I don’t think I’ll be much use in a meeting like that.”

  Dougie pushed the button for the twentieth floor. “You won’t be expected to take part right away unless you want to. Take your time to observe and get comfortable, but if I know you, it won’t be long before everyone realizes how creative you are.”

  You don’t know me. Not anymore. At fourteen, she would have been right in her element, bouncing ideas back and forth with excitement. Now, twenty years later, she had become so adept at keeping her thoughts to herself that she doubted she’d be able to share a good one even if one smacked her in the head.

  “Good morning, Kendall. Morning, Douglas,” the receptionist, Marty, greeted them as they walked off the elevator and into the silver, gray, and black world of Impetus. Hushed and elegant, the twentieth floor was as far removed from the bustling city of Bellevue as if it were on a different planet. “Kendall, you need to check in at HR before the meeting. There are a few papers for you to sign.”

  “Thanks, Marty,” Ken said, turning to the left while Dougie paused at the desk to chat.

  “See you in the conference room, Ken,” Dougie called after her. “And don’t worry about the meeting. You’ll have a blast.”

  Ken walked to the HR office, relieved to have a few minutes to herself and away from Dougie’s relentless faith in her. He persisted in seeing her as someone strong and capable, but his presence reminded her of the real weakness at her core. If he ever needed to depend on her strength, she’d be certain to fail. She signed the tax forms and walked back through the now-empty office space. Her plan for the meeting was to sit in the back, stay as far under the radar as she could. Hopefully, as the weeks wore on and she studied the different projects Impetus had going, she’d be able to contribute something worthwhile. But today, she’d be a fly on the wall.

  Or so she thought. Instead, once she came through the door into the conference room, everyone turned toward her and started clapping.

  What the fuck? Ken fought against her desire to turn around and walk out the door again, not stopping until she was on the ferry and aimed toward her land. She managed a tight smile in acknowledgment of the applause and slid into the empty chair next to Dougie. Part of her original plan was to sit on the other side of the room from him, but the jarring reception made her feel awkward. She hated seeking the comfort of someone familiar, but she had no choice. Was this some sort of welcoming or hazing ritual?

  “Everyone, this is Ken Pearson,” Joe said. He was at the front of the room, perched on the edge of a bare table in much the same posture he had used during her first meeting with him. “Ken, I was just telling the group about your weekend when you saved the bird. Sorry to startle you with the applause, but we’re impressed by what you did.”

  She had shoved an injured bird in a box. Hardly worthy of a public commendation. Still, she relaxed fractionally once she found out why they had greeted her in such a boisterous way. “Um, thanks. But Dr. Chase did the work.”

  Even in this nerve-racking environment, just the act of saying Bailey’s name distracted Ken. She pictured those miracle-working hands, seemingly able to heal any injury. Ken imagined them resting on her chest. Would they be able to heal her heart? She couldn’t tell because every time she thought about them, they refused to stay put and started to roam over the rest of her body. Ken rubbed a spot under her left collarbone and brought her attention back to the meeting.

  “Why don’t you come up here and tell us about it,” Joe said. He moved to a chair in the front row and gestured at the space he had vacated. “Did you say it was an eagle?”

  “An osprey,” she said, after a pause. She didn’t want to stand up and give a report, like she was back in school doing show-and-tell, but Joe didn’t seem prepared to go on with the meeting until she spoke. Dougie prodded her in the side and she got up with a sigh. She’d give the bare details of the afternoon and be done with it.

  But once she started talking, she lost track of her intention to state a few facts and sit down again. The wild beat of the osprey’s pulse as she had held him in her arms, the fierce concentration on Bailey’s face as she had assessed and treated the injury, the dreamlike feeling of being caught in some transition point between the world of nature and of humans. The experience had been magical to her, rare and special. Even though she wanted to remain distant and aloof, she could hear her voice change as she took on the role of storyteller. The rapt attention of her audience—most of whom had probably seen but had never had actual contact with wild birds—and their laughter as she described her clumsy attempts to capture the osprey made her give a more dramatic than necessary rendering of the story. She didn’t want to drool in front of everyone, so she carefully edited her descriptions of Bailey, making an effort to talk more about the procedure than the woman performing it. She had been mesmerized by Bailey in her role as rehabber, not as a person, and she didn’t want to give the wrong impression to the group.

  When she finished her monologue, she felt a sense of relief. She had been caught up in the telling but now was happy to slide back into anonymity. Joe had other ideas. He went back to his position at the front of the room, and Ken half listened to him talk as she returned to her seat.

  “I spoke with Vonda Selbert again yesterday. She’s been instrumental in making Dr. Chase’s center an adjunct to the WSU veterinary school, and they’re planning to upgrade and expand her facility. Vonda had originally planned to hire a WSU alum to do the architectural designs, but I told her we’d be glad to make this our quarterly volunteer project. If we do the design work for free and use our connections with builders and suppliers, the money will stretch so we’ll be able to build an annex on Dr. Chase’s property—a surgery and classroom devoted solely to the center—instead of just making an addition to the existing house. I think Ken would be the perfect person to head the project and be chief designer. What do you say, Ken?”

  Ken stared at Joe while the rest of the people in the room added a chorus of approval to his suggestion. She felt herself nod in assent, but her mind wa
s already working on ways to get out of the assignment. She had been planning to call Bailey in a week or so and check on her osprey, but see her again? No. Well, not until the osprey was released on Ken’s property. She did want to see that. Showing up at Bailey’s in the role of “damned architect” wasn’t going to improve her chances of witnessing the release.

  Ken occupied herself by taking thorough notes during the meeting, although she was barely aware of what she was writing. Dougie gave a presentation about the project he was managing. Ken was going to be on his team, and she thought he said something about the house being commissioned by one of the Seattle Mariners, but she wasn’t sure. She’d have to corner him later and find out what she’d missed while she had been mentally preparing her thank-you-but-no-thank-you speech for Joe.

  Once the brainstorming and sharing had mercifully ended and everyone went off to do actual work, Ken walked to the front of the room once again, just as reluctantly as she had at the beginning of the meeting. Joe was perched on the desk, as if waiting for her.

  “Thank you for suggesting I take point on this Raptor Center project,” she said. Start with the gratitude and work toward the refusal. “But I was hoping to devote all my time and energy to working with Douglas and his team. Once I’m more settled here at Impetus, I’d love to help with a community project, but maybe the timing on this one isn’t right for me.”

  “That’s a logical reason for turning down the assignment,” Joe said. “You’re new here, and you need time to acclimate. But let me counter it with some logic of my own. You live on the Peninsula, so it would be convenient for you to be on-site during both the design and construction of the new center. Plus, you’ve met Dr. Chase and you’ve actually observed her at work.”