Coffee puts her large paws on my knees, waking me from my daydream.
“Hi? Hi?” It sounds like Jughead’s also awake.
Ten
Tripp
“Down, Coffee. Lie down, girl.” She obeys. I get up and slowly lift the cover from the bird’s cage. He looks up and blinks, then simply stares at me for a few seconds, brilliant, olive-green eyes shining bright. I almost believe that he’s going to thank me for turning on the lights.
I open the cage, giving him a cup of my cold, unfinished Earl Grey tea to hold onto. If I familiarize him with some of the sights and smells of this place, he’ll be fine here tonight. He grabs at the handle with his claw with a loud tap, tap, tap sound against the china, then dips his big black beak into the tea.
“What the fuck? What the fuck!” He screeches, nodding his head repeatedly while jumping up and down on his perch. I burst out laughing. Did Hannah teach him that?
“It’s okay, Jughead. Tea’s not your fancy, that’s fine, it’s fine,” I say in a soothing tone. I take out the cup and close the cage. This is going to be your home for a little while,” I tell him. He stops jumping and looks over at Coffee, who’s on her best behavior, lying on the rug by the fire just staring back.
Once I’m assured both pets are as relaxed as possible, I head upstairs with a new game plan in mind. I’m going to ask Princess Hannah to join me in the field tomorrow.
Will she agree to help me with my gear and research on a rainy forest hike? I highly doubt it. She’ll take the easy way out. I’ll offer her my truck, she can take the bridge to the mainland and stay in a hotel there. I’ll do the hike myself, then take the ferry back in a few days and gather my truck from her then. We’ll both get what we want this way: our space.
I tap lightly on the door, and it opens a second later. Hannah is stunning. My breath leaves me and my knees buckle. I’m not even sure how I’m still standing upright.
She’s wearing a silky white negligee that fits perfectly across her hips and breasts and highlights her hourglass figure. It has a sheer material, I think it’s called organza, framing her breasts all the way up to the bottom of her neck. It leaves much to the imagination, but suddenly, my imagination’s working overtime.
“Here. Put this on. It’s bloody freezing, and you’re half naked.” I hand her the white waffle robe that was hanging behind the door and turn away before I can read her expression.
I didn’t mean to sound so gruff, but really! Could you have warned me you’d be appearing on my doorstep, catapulting into my life, looking like… that… in the middle of the most important research project of my career?
I was trying to avoid any kind of feelings, but it’s a little late for every feeling below the belt. Blast it. I’m buggered.
Hannah says it’s fine to turn around, so my hips and legs, which seem to have a mind of their own, pivot me back around. My body is willing; my mind is mushy peas. Of course, she still looks lovely covered up in the white robe, her long ginger hair cascading over her shoulders. Well, this is inconvenient. Didn’t think I could go here again. It’s been years since I looked at anyone else, thought about anyone else. But, here I am.
I need to get her out of this house before she makes a right hash of everything.
Eleven
Tripp
“Can I come in? We should talk.”
I take a step forward, realizing that I’ve been staring at Hannah far too long. I hope she assumes I’m distracted by the news from my phone call and not that I’m some creepy married scientist. I know my reality, but she doesn’t.
I should tell her. I know, I should tell her. I just haven’t found the right moment. How do you go from, “Would you like sugar in your tea?” to “My wife died tragically four years ago, and I’m not looking to replace her.” I haven’t quite figured that one out yet, and none of the pamphlets I was handed in bereavement therapy told me how to handle this situation, either. A waste of perfectly good trees, in my opinion.
She steps to the side, and I walk past her to the French doors that lead to the balcony. I pull open the sheers and look outside to see if anything has improved. Dark, pouring, miserable. We may as well be in bloody Oxford.
“Who was on the phone?” Hannah fluffs several pillows, places them against the hand-carved, sturdy oak headboard, then sits back. She has her phone in her left hand, but she’s holding my gaze, and appears not the least bit shy about having me in her room.
“That was Evan, my friend and field technician. He says there won’t be any ferry tomorrow. High winds, heavy rain.”
“Oh no! This feels more like the Vancouver coast than France. I should have just worked back home.”
“I thought the writing wasn’t going well back home, and your place is up for sale. So technically, you have no home to go home to.”
“Well, yes, I just mean… are you always this argumentative?” She lets out a sigh and pouts. “I mean, bloomin’ paltry penguins, okay?”
Her word choice makes me smile, and I try not to chuckle. I’m glad my back is turned to her. “It’s just rain.” I close the sheers, pull up the desk chair, and sit down. “At least it’s not wildfires. Mediterranean France has been devastated by those in the past. Did you look up bird species while I was gone?”
“A few, to pass the time. My best friend, Jillian, isn’t answering her Facetime. Speaking of that, I could really use the Wi-Fi password now.”
I sigh. May as well give it to her for the night. “Here.” I pull out a small piece of paper from my right jeans pocket, walk over to the side of the bed, and hand it to her.
“You wrote it down? Don’t you do anything on your phone? You suit your name. You’re a real Trip.”
“It’s William, actually. William Wilson the Third,” I explain. “Thanks to the awkward roman letters—triple I’s—at the end of my name, the kids at school started calling me Trip. I added the P as a teenager, when every day, some cheeky brat told me I should take a Trip. It got annoying.”
“Oops, sorry about that. Kids can be cruel,” she says.
“Yes, well, the extra ‘p’ did nothing to help with the teasing, and then I went into sciences, so I got picked on for being a naff.”
“Naff?”
“Incredibly uncool. I still am—I just dress better.” I grin.
“It’s turned around now. Nerds are considered the best boyfriends. And it’s a nice name. It suits you.”
What is she doing here? The sexy negligee… buttering me up with compliments… she definitely wants to stay on. I need to scare her away, now. I just got over Mags. I’m not ready for this.
“Yours suits you well, too. Although, I wouldn’t say we’re in heaven in this particular situation.”
“Come on, it’s not half bad. We have lights, a fire, and the house is gorgeous. Now, if I could only get uninterrupted service and super-speed Wi-Fi here…” She smirks.
“Ah yes, the bloody Wi-Fi again.”
“You think I’m spoiled, I can tell.”
“I never said that. It’s just socializing with everyone and his uncle isn’t at the top of my priority list at the ’mo.”
“Oh, you’ve insinuated that I’m spoiled, from assuming I was an actress from the start to making me get my own dinner after you offered to make it for me.”
“If you aren’t the pampered Princess, come help me tomorrow in the field. Evan can’t make it, there’s only you to help me out and limited time before there’s too much water in the forest to walk around. I’m on a tight deadline to stake out the area. Besides searching for the Skinks, I plan to build an aviary there.”
“An aviary? And you… want me… to be your assistant? Me?”
“I have lots more help, but for the time being, why not? You’re a writer. Don’t writers seek adventure? It might spark an idea for your screenplay.”
“It might spark somethin
g like pneumonia! It’s cold out there.” As if to underline her point, she gets under the white quilt and blankets, pulling them up to her neck.
I knew she wouldn’t have the courage to try this with me. Pity, though. I’m not sure what I saw in her, but there was definitely something… more than one something, several things… ah well, now she’ll go, and I won’t have to worry about whatever this is that I’m feeling.
“Poor Canadian girl. And I thought you Canuck women were strong like moose!”
She glares at me.
“What I do, out there in the wild, it’s not for the faint of heart,” I continue. “It’s fine. It seems that finding this elusive bird simply isn’t meant to be my great legacy. I’ll pack up my things in the truck tomorrow, and drive you and Jughead across the bridge to Cannes.”
Why am I suddenly offering to drive her?
“Hopefully, we can find a hotel to take pity on us and our plight. Unless there are others like us. Let’s hope not.”
I hear myself invite myself into her life and once again wonder if this is my mother’s politeness-gene guiding me, my heart, or something else altogether. Probably a combination of the three.
“Faint of heart… that’s what you think of me, Tripp?” Her cheeks have grown rosy pink. It’s a sight to see against that red hair. “I’ll do it! I’ll do it. I’ll take you up on your very kind offer. Ever since my crew gave me Jughead, I’ve always wanted to learn more about rare birds. I’d love to spend the day out in the field with you. Rain, schmain, on the plains in Spain. Let’s do this!”
Woah. What a strong-willed woman. I’m taken aback and chuckling at her enthusiasm, or forced enthusiasm, as the case may be, when my phone rings again. This time, it’s an ordinary call.
“Wilson here.”
Maggie used to tease me that I never knew the word “Hello.” Fact is, it’s a Waste of Time Word, and yes, I have a list of those.
Now, more than ever, I know that every second counts. Every word. Every breath. Why waste one? You say hello, the other person asks who’s speaking. Instead, just cut to the chase, tell them who’s answering the damn phone, and they’ll get to the matter at hand. Maggie always said, “Silly, sensible scientist,” when I explained that. I miss her so.
“Mr. Wilson. Sorry to disturb, it’s James, the owner. I’m in Florida, on holiday. Just got word that there’s flooding around the island? Neighbor tells me the ferries stopped running, and the Valois bridge was closed a half hour ago. They’re concerned it may give way.”
“That bridge on the other side of the island? But then there’s no way back to the mainland…” I stand up and look out the window. It’s pitch black out there, and the rain’s still pouring down in buckets, but I don’t hear any high winds. I don’t see what the fuss is about, it’s just water. People look at the weather apps these days and cancel their plans when it says two percent chance of snow. It’s bloody ridiculous.
“Well, that’s the least of our problems. Did you hear about the Good Nights mix up? The blasted app booked in another woman with me, same dates. She’s here with me now. Seems we’re stuck here, with the bridge closed.”
“What? Unbelievable. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I’ll get in touch with Good Nights, make sure they reimburse you both. My neighbor wants to come over with some food and water for you, since stores will be closed a few days. Béatrice is supposed to come by sometime tomorrow, not sure if she still will. She’s in a house on other side of the island, right on the shore, actually...”
“Yes, she already cleaned once, the other day. She’s lovely. We have enough food. We’ll be fine, it’s just a little rain. And the house is beautiful.”
“Okay... well, I’ll be in touch again soon.”
I don’t think he expected me to be so easy-going about all of this, but bloody hell, it’s just rain. A lot of rain. It’s not like it’s a tsunami. He ends the call, and I put my phone to sleep, then look over at Hannah. She’s fallen asleep. She’s luminous, her hair spread out like a mermaid’s locks, painting the white bedcover red. She has three adorable freckles on her dainty nose and extremely long, black eyelashes. Even the way she curls one hand under her face… so sweet.
Now, she’s going to have to stay. There’s no way to get her to the mainland. I’m surprised to find that I like being in her company. Pleasantly surprised.
Stop this! She’s funny and interesting, a bit entitled, perhaps, but either way, I didn’t plan on company. Attractive, adventurous company at that. I don’t need any distractions while working. In fact, I don’t need female distraction, ever again. I’m done. Finished. Heart closed for business, thank you and goodnight.
She said yes. She said she’d join me in the field, even before she learned the bridge was out and we were stranded here. Unbelievable, really, how we can make assumptions about a person and be way off base. Mind, I don’t actually know what she’s made of, yet. I have no idea how she’ll do out there, especially in these conditions. She may end up cursing me all the way home, like Maggie did.
Maggie. Oh, Mags. What am I even thinking? I’m not. This isn’t thinking. It’s feeling, and it’s not for me. Been there, done that, and the t-shirt is burning in hell.
I take one last look at the sleeping Princess, then walk out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Rain or no rain, Hannah or no Hannah, I’ll set out first thing tomorrow morning.
Twelve
Hannah
I’m standing by the front door, dressed and ready to go in a glossy, bright blue rain coat and white running shoes. It’s all I packed for colder weather, and the raincoat is definitely one of those purchases I would put in the ‘regret later’ category. I feel like a fresh, plump blueberry. I am not winning any fashion awards today, so this getup had better keep me dry.
The living room air is filled with the delectable aroma of freshly brewed coffee, eggs, and toast. I only ate a few more crumpets last night, so I’m famished, and the mingling scents are making me salivate.
I don’t want to assume this meal is for me, though. I can grab something on the road if he doesn’t invite me. I need to prove to Tripp that I’m a self-sufficient woman. After our battle of wits over this rental, and perhaps because I’m an unemployed writer vacationing in France, he seems to think I’m some kind of spoiled celebrity brat.
Well, sure. I like things how I like them. I enjoy warm food and a hot bath when I can get one. I’m no Anne LaBastille, but don’t tell me I can’t handle a walk in the woods!
Tripp thinks I can’t cope for one day out in the field searching for a little bird? That I don’t have what it takes? I’ve put up with sexism in the workplace, trying to break through the glass ceiling in high heels and a shatterproof industry roof, being sexually harassed by one of my bosses on a plane ride—talk about being cornered, I went and hung out with an airline assistant most of the flight because she was someone who ‘got it’—and the leering, whistling and, if it was an exceptionally bad day, gyrating that every woman has to endure the minute she walks out her front door wearing anything attractive. I don’t care how cliché it sounds, it’s true: it’s a jungle out there. We have to put on protective mental gear and ass-kicking boots for every step we take.
He wants to see some endurance? I’ve got that. Street smarts? Ha. I could play soccer on the streets of L.A., shoot hoops in downtown Vancouver. Surely, birding takes the same kind of stamina. I’ll show him. Besides, I wasn’t able to write one word again this morning. Not one good one, anyway. Hopefully, by saying yes to this adventure, I’ll be able to kick-start my writing, too.
“C’mere girl! Come to Daddy!”
Tripp comes fast around the corner, with the other Coffee in his life trailing behind him, tail wagging, obviously excited to get outside. He told me the forest is about half an hour from here, and I’m sure she can’t wait that long until we make it to the field.
“I’m not sure how I feel about being whistled for, but the Daddy thing is kinda hot,” I say in my best vacant, southern-gal type drawl. I smirk at him as I lean back against the glass.
Tripp chuckles and looks down at his dog. It seems that he’s trying to avoid eye contact. “Well, you’re in a good mood and up bright and early, ready to go! Nice slicker.”
At least he didn’t call me a blueberry. Yet. “I slept well after a hot bath late last night. I was up before you, texting my mom, feeding Jughead, and cleaning his cage. I didn’t want to delay you this morning.” I bend down to meet Coffee and give her ears and head a rub.
“You’re still joining me?” His eyes meet mine. He looks torn.
“Sure! Sounds like an adventure. Then, once we find your bird, as long as the bridge reopens, you can leave and let me have the place all to myself, right? I mean there would be no reason for you to stay on, and you can just return on the credit that Good Nights is bound to offer us both after this disaster.”
“So, you heard about the bridge? Before you fell asleep last night…” Interesting, how he’s conveniently ignoring that last part and instead focusing on the flood.
“Yes. I heard and physically and mentally gave up trying to figure out what to do next. I decided my next move was sleep.”
“Good decision. But I’m not as sure about this one. You want to trek through a possibly flooded forest with me instead of staying in this luxurious villa? I didn’t take you for the adventurous type...”
“I’m here, aren’t I? I came all the way from Burnaby.”
“For a solo writer’s retreat, Hannah. Not in the name of serious science.”
“Look,” I cross my arms, “I am serious! You said you needed help. I’ve graciously offered it. Do you want my help, or don’t you?”
He looks me up and down for a moment, then exhales. I can’t decipher what the sigh means.
“Let’s give it a whirl and pray the birds aren’t frightened out of their feathers by that slicker. Help yourself to some eggs and coffee. We’ll leave in fifteen.” He says it sternly, as though he’s proposing a business deal.
Good Nights Page 5