Wingspan

by Karis Walsh

  Ken drew an arced building, hinting at the shape of a wing. The inner curve would be paned glass, so the internal workings were visible from Bailey’s house or from any point within the building. Rooms for seminars and examinations branched off the central hallway like primary feathers, separated not by walls but by panels made of the same mesh as the flight cages. A safe place for any escaping birds, and easy to reconfigure as needed. A small, traditionally enclosed section at the far end could be used for darkened recovery areas and private rooms for the interns.

  Ken pushed her windblown hair out of her eyes and held her sketch at arm’s length. She took an imaginary tour of the halls and rooms. Pretty and practical at the same time, with comfortable visibility for Bailey, direct light from the glass front and diffused light through the mesh. Bailey would love it. Even more important, the birds would love it.

  Better than a box. Ken used the black chalk to draw markings similar to those on her osprey’s wing on the roof of the building. A touch of whimsy no one but the birds would see. When she had finished, she closed the sketchpad and rested back in her chair. She’d let the idea simmer overnight and work on the structural details tomorrow.

  A gull swooped upward from the sea, borne on a wind current Ken only saw in its effects—in the ruffled feathers and in the otherwise stillness of the bird’s wings as it hovered near the bluff. She closed her eyes, blocking out the sun but still feeling its warmth. She’d show the sketch to both Bailey and Joe next week, and then she’d be done with her part in the project. Construction crews would step in to finish the work, and soon her concept would be given mass and dimension. From an image of a wing spread in flight to a building full of students and raptors. Birds would be healed within the mesh walls, moving toward freedom. And after so many years in stasis, Ken would move forward, too. Responsible only for herself, not for anyone else.

  *

  Bailey parked behind Ken’s Corvette and got out of her car. She stood on the side of the road, strangely reluctant to cross onto Ken’s property. She didn’t know if she’d be welcome or not, and Ken had every right to be furious with her. Finally Bailey moved, drawn forward by the song of a house finch, and followed the little red bird until he disappeared behind a spiny clump of Oregon grape. Once Bailey was on the property, she could see Ken, stretched and motionless in the sun. Her feet were crossed at the ankles, and a sketch pad dangled from her hand, only inches from the grass.

  Bailey stayed where she was for a few still moments, content to observe Ken in this place where she had chosen to make her home. Bailey heard the rhythmic beat of the rugged and active strait, just below the bluff, but the ring of trees around the property gave it an atmosphere of privacy and quiet. The acre was level where it fronted the road, but the lower portion of the land sloped down from east to west. Bailey saw stakes and bright yellow string in the grass, and she recognized the shape of the tree trunk house immediately. She envisioned Ken’s tiered house being built, stick by stick, in her mind. Imagining it here, rather than on the back of her car’s registration, she realized she had been wrong when she had called it a showcase. Instead, it would be a haven. Simple and beautiful as it hugged close to the ground but looked out toward the sea.

  “Bailey.”

  Ken’s voice made her jump. She had been focused on Ken’s future home, hoping to have a place within it, and she had momentarily forgotten the present.

  “Hi, Ken,” she said.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Bailey took a deep breath before she spoke. She felt the same tension in her body as she did when stalking an injured bird. Keep steady, don’t make sudden movements. Carefully sidle toward the wild creature until she was able to control its movements. “Randy came by today with the plans for the flight cages,” she said. The message had been clear. Ken had sent Randy in her place because she didn’t want to see Bailey. Bailey had ignored the message. “I wanted to thank you. They’re going to be even better than I dreamed. I wanted you to copy what you saw in my meadow, but you captured the spirit of the place instead.”

  “I’m glad you like them,” Ken said. Her expression was as closed as it had been when they had first met. Bailey wanted to see her laugh or even frown. To show some sign of emotion, rather than none at all. But Ken wasn’t trying to run from her or to push her away. She had disappeared behind a wall as impenetrable as the one she’d drawn for Bailey’s castle. Bailey felt a sense of panic. She had been trying to sneak up on Ken, to slowly reveal the love that had been building inside her without giving too much away until she could gauge whether her feelings might be reciprocated. But Ken wasn’t giving any indication of what she was feeling. Love, anger, disgust—Bailey had no clue. Either she tipped her own hand and risked rejection, maybe even ridicule, or she kept silent and under control.

  “I had been hoping you would bring the plans yourself,” she said. She felt an ache inside as she struggled to keep her feelings contained. It had always been so easy to do, but the emotions she felt now were as unwieldy and uncooperative as a flailing raptor. “So I could apologize.”

  Ken looked away, toward the water. “Randy will be better at choosing native plants, and he has some ideas already about the stream you wanted.”

  Bailey wanted to stay in the safety of the meadow, too, but she pushed past it to the argument they had on the way out of the woods. “Ken, I’m sorry for what I said after our hike. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Yes,” Ken said. “You should have. I needed to hear it.”

  Bailey felt her heart thud against her rib cage. She felt bruised from battering against the sanctuary she had built inside. Maybe she had a chance to fix their relationship, to have Ken in her life again, but only if she could summon the courage to set her love free. “I needed to hear what you told me, too. All of it. I fought having an intern for the same reason I was pushing you away. I was living in a cage. One I built myself because I was afraid of rejection, of being left alone rather than making the choice to live alone. I’m making changes and letting Dani and the university in my life. But even more, I want you in my life. Ken, I love you.”

  Ken wanted to move forward, to take Bailey in her arms, but she couldn’t. She understood the depth of Bailey’s courage, and she was in awe of her strength. Embracing change, opening her life and heart not only to the students, but—even more intimately—to Ken. Willing to be weak and strong at the same time. Ken didn’t deserve Bailey’s love. She could never be worthy of it. “I’m glad you’re accepting what the university has to offer. Your birds will be better off, but so will you. You won’t have to do everything alone anymore.”

  “What about us?” Bailey asked, although her eyes were red and she seemed to know Ken’s answer before it was spoken.

  “Bailey, you were right about me. I spent so many years being careful about what I said and how I acted. I fell into the habit, I guess, of being someone I wasn’t. I need time to relearn who I am.” Focus on the externals. The need to dress or act the right way, her ability to create and design. The inside work—being able to risk caring for someone else, being responsible for them—seemed an impossible task. Bailey deserved more.

  Bailey wiped a tear off her cheek with the back of her hand. “Do you need to do it alone?”

  “I do.” Ken felt made of stone, but she lifted a heavy hand and cradled Bailey’s cheek, rubbing her thumb over a falling tear before sliding her hand through Bailey’s hair. Deep and soft, it anchored Ken to Bailey for a brief moment. “I was the strong one. I took care of myself and defended other people, but I never did enough. I always knew I had failed, because of Steve. When we first met, I assumed you were the kind of woman I’d need to protect, but I was wrong. You are the strong one, Bailey. You are confident and unwavering. You’ve found your calling and you follow it wholeheartedly. I gave up my calling because I always felt guilty getting credit for my sketches or plans when Steve was the real talent. He’s the one who should be alive now, and getting the recognition I
avoided.”

  Ken pulled her hand away from Bailey’s warmth and rubbed under her collarbone. “It’s time to stop living in his shadow, trying to avoid success because he’ll never have it.” She ripped the wing-shaped design out of her sketch pad and handed it to Bailey.

  “This building will be a new start. For both of us,” she said. Bailey would find life in her annex. People who would protect her and care for her. A university full of students and professors to give her support. Even now, after declaring her misguided love for Ken, she had a lightness about her. A sad but bittersweet expression, as if saying the words, attempting the connection, had been enough to set her free. Ken was relieved that Bailey would be okay, better than okay, without Ken in her life. She walked back to her chair, leaving Bailey in the center of the clearing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ken sat on her usual bench outside the office building. No crossword puzzle, no lunch. Nothing except the black and gold watch she checked every thirty seconds. She was waiting for her client presentation, and every passing second brought her closer to failure.

  Her black veneer desk upstairs was still bare and impersonal, even after she had been sitting at it for almost two months. Today it had some remnants of her on it. A 3-D model of a large and decidedly mediocre house, and a series of neatly laminated specs and sketches. Randy’s landscaping and Angela’s interiors were brilliant and inspired, but Ken’s house—the centerpiece of it all—was unimaginative. She had filled it with all the goodies money could buy, but it was nothing more than a pricier version of her mass-produced boxes.

  At least she had tried her best. Ken sighed as she watched a flock of pigeons erupt into the sky as a young girl ran past them. No, not her best. Far from it. She had been so intent on losing this job, but now that she was on the verge of accomplishing such a mind-numbing feat, she was having second thoughts. And third thoughts.

  Joe had loved the annex she had designed for Bailey. Ken had known from the moment her pencil hit paper that Bailey would adore it. The big surprise was how much Ken herself had enjoyed the process, so long neglected, of bringing something truly unique out of her mind and into the world. Combining form and function to create a building that would be beautiful to see, beautiful to use. A thing of grace. Yes, her boss loved the annex, but she knew she was expected to produce such results consistently. She had managed one good attempt but had failed with today’s paying client.

  She looked up from checking her watch yet again and saw Dougie walking toward her. He sat next to her and rested his elbows on his knees. His bangs dropped in his eyes as he stared down at the cement, but he didn’t bother to push them away.

  “Do you have a backup plan?” Ken asked. She hid her shame behind dry humor. He had put his faith in her, had staked his reputation on her, and she had failed not just him, but herself as well. Just as she had expected.

  “Yes,” he said. “Once we saw the direction you were going, Joe had me draw up another set of plans. I’ll present them if Vince doesn’t like yours.”

  “If?” Ken repeated with a snort of humorless laughter. “You might as well do the full presentation. Even I wouldn’t want to live in the house I designed.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it,” Dougie said. Still coming to her defense, no matter how hard she tried to push him away. “But there’s nothing right with it, either.”

  “So why put anyone through the embarrassment?” Ken asked. The high of designing the annex, of connecting with Bailey’s deepest desires and needs, had evaporated. She felt empty again, unable to create. Her talent, and Bailey herself, seemed so far away right now. Ken would be alone in front of the client—naked and vulnerable—and she couldn’t face the humiliation, made worse by her too-recent realization of what this job really meant to her. She’d wanted to fail but somehow deep inside had hoped she wouldn’t. “Go ahead and present your ideas. I’m sure the client will love them, and you’ll—”

  “No!” Dougie sat up and pushed his bangs aside with a brusque swipe. “You produced crap, so you stand up in front of everyone and present it. I can’t try to save you, Ken. I’ve been trying since Steve died, but I can’t do it anymore.”

  “Don’t bring him into this,” Ken said, her voice sounding like a dangerous growl. She had broken her rule, going against her better judgment and sharing Steve’s story with Bailey. Ken had revealed her secret shame, her inability to protect the ones she loved most, but Bailey had misunderstood. She had loved Ken anyway, in spite of her weakness. “I won’t talk about him.”

  “But I will. You lost a best friend when Steve killed himself, and I’m sorry for you. But I lost two best friends that day. How do you think I feel?”

  Ken looked away, unable to bear the pain she saw in Dougie’s tear-filled eyes. She brushed angrily at the wetness on her own cheek. “I’m still here,” she said. But I don’t deserve it. She didn’t speak those words out loud, but they hovered in the air between them.

  “Ken,” Dougie said more softly. He took one of her hands and cradled it in both of his. She pulled against his touch, but he didn’t let go. “What happened back then was horrible, but it wasn’t your fault. What Steve did to himself, that was horrible, too. A shame and a loss. But it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t save him back then, just like I can’t save you now. You aren’t the one who died, but you buried the part of you that you and Steve shared.”

  Ken used her free hand to wipe the tears away. She agreed with Dougie about one thing. She had buried her creativity, the part of herself so connected to Steve, deep inside. Where she could finally and forever keep it safe. It emerged now and again, in random designs or sketches, but most of it remained underground. She had managed to access it for Bailey, but only because Bailey somehow managed to drive her far inside herself, where her most basic needs and emotions were hidden. Ken couldn’t get there on her own.

  “How do you manage to go on?” she finally asked. “To keep remembering him and thinking about him?”

  “Because I think of the work I do as a way of honoring his memory. Every drawing I make or idea I create has a little of him in it, because he’ll always be part of me. How much more would that be true for you? The two of you were so close, and the worlds you created together shaped the artists both of you would have become. Every time you draw a line, a room, a house, there’ll be a part of him living in it. That’s a better way to preserve his memory than by shutting it away from the world.”

  Dougie stood up. “There’s Vince. I’ll walk him upstairs and stall for a few minutes. I really hope you’ll do your presentation, Ken. Sell the house you designed, and maybe Joe will give you another chance.”

  Ken trailed behind Dougie and Vince before ducking into the bathroom on the first floor of the building. She splashed cold water on her face and stared in the mirror. Except for her puffy red eyes, she looked the part of conservative professional. Her white dress shirt was buttoned nearly to her throat and covered with a pin-striped blazer. A carefully chosen wrapping to hide the failure inside. She had known all along that she wasn’t talented or daring enough for the challenging job at Impetus. And that she wasn’t brave enough or strong enough to love and protect a wacky, sensitive, unique woman like Bailey. She was destined for a bland and boring career, a passionless and predictable love life.

  Dougie’s words today had echoed the harsh ones Bailey had spoken after their hike. They had both tried to give her a chance to live again. Dougie, with this creative and challenging job—and Bailey, with her love. Ken had turned them both away because she had been too afraid to stand out, to live as bold a life as they wanted for her. They’d seen potential for something more in her, but they’d been wrong. She had tried to protect herself and had ended up hurting all three of them. They’d tried to protect her, to love and support her, and she’d failed them.

  Ken took a step back from the mirror. She hadn’t failed them, she’d failed herself. They had stood by her, waiting for her to decide whether to step u
p to the challenge or to step away. Like Steve. Ken raised a hand to her mouth, almost afraid to admit the truth. As if it was a betrayal of Steve and how much she had cared about him. She had tried to help him back then, but her efforts had been doomed because he hadn’t taken part in the healing. Bailey and Dougie could only do so much for her. She had to take the step toward healing, toward proving she wasn’t the failure she was trying so hard to be. Toward love.

  Ken took off her navy blazer and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress shirt. The head of a dragon with a ruby eye was just visible along her lowered neckline, and the rest of her ink showed indistinctly through the thin fabric of her shirt. She left the bathroom and went upstairs, tossing her blazer on her desk.

  So she’d try to be more daring, more herself. To prove to Dougie and Bailey that their faith in her was justified. To keep Steve’s memory alive instead of hiding it. But her new resolve couldn’t change the bland house she had designed into something spectacular.

  Ken sat at her desk and tapped her fingers on the stack of laminated posters as she searched for inspiration. She had nothing. She had been able to come up with a plan for Bailey for one reason. She loved her. She knew Bailey and saw the heart of her, so designing a place for her to work was simple.

  She didn’t love Vince Larue. She wasn’t even overly fond of his Seattle Mariners. She flipped through her notes from previous meetings, searching for some way to sell the house to him. He liked to watch movies, he was on the road a lot, his favorite color was blue. Ken thought about Bailey and her flight cages. She planned them with the bird in mind, not designing the cage she thought they’d want, but observing them in nature and replicating what she could.