“Save the trees! Save the trees!”
“Don’t engage,” the female officer up front says to her partner who is driving. “Just pull away. I’ll send for back up.”
She’ll send for back up. Huh. I wish life were that easy. I wish I could have just “sent for back up” when I read those divorce papers on my freaking birthday, when Doug fooled me into coming to Cannes, when Jill announced so callously that she and my husband “didn’t mean” to have an affair.
You can’t snap your fingers and have angels appear. Now that I think about it, though, Tripp, Béa, Hank, Nadia, and Sandy have all appeared like earth angels to me in my time of need. I sit back and try to relax my neck and shoulders as the cop car pulls away from the chanting crowd. I think of my true friends and find myself return to calm, steady breathing again.
The road trip that is life never goes as planned, and there are always bumps and break downs along the way. Maybe, though, if you live your life with curiosity and an open heart, someone will pull up alongside to offer you a lift, like a jump start to the soul.
Thirty-seven
Tripp
I hope Hannah gets this text; our bloody wires have been crossing all day long. I tuck my phone inside my back jeans pocket, just in case she texts again, pick up the small fence pickets and paint stirr-sticks I’ve been working with to make rustic signs for the aviary, and continue gluing my third sign together. I’m not fond of constantly being at the beck and call of our modern gadgets, but if leaving my cell on means Hannah and I stay connected, I’m more than alright with that.
I wanted to give Hannah space, and I wanted to chase after her. I wanted both. After I scratched out the impression from Hannah’s note and learned that she went to see Doug, I drove down a stretch of dirt road for a half hour in my pickup truck, trying to decide what my next move was.
I decided I would continue doing what I love most, here in this piece of old growth forest, maybe even camp out here tonight. Above all, I must try not to throw a wobbly. If I’m going to be with an imaginative, fiery, red-haired writer-woman, I’ll have to get used to her unpredictable nature. I can’t panic every time she runs this way or that. I need to trust her. She can do her thing; I’ll do mine, and on our best days, we’ll meet in the middle. Two individual flames, creating one light. I heard that in Evan and Sarah’s vows last year. Bloody choked up when they said it together, I did. Then they lit a unity candle. At that point, I had to ask Mom to hand me a tissue.
After Maggie died in the subway bombing, my therapist told me that I have something called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I hate labels, so I certainly didn’t want one given to me, and I never told a soul about the diagnosis. But I worried when my mom didn’t call exactly when she said she would, or when Coffee slept in the kitchen and didn’t return to my room at bedtime. If anyone went missing for an hour, I was a panicky, stressed-out mess, and I hated it. I couldn’t sleep, and I rarely ate. Coming to the island was the best therapy for my anxiety. I stopped looking at clocks or following any kind of schedule. I barely know what bloody day it is now.
I told my therapist to sod off in my mind, many, many times, but I think it’s time that I return his calls and tell him he’s right. Maybe I do have PTSD, and maybe only now, four years later, I’m finding a way out of my anxiety. I may see him again a few times this summer, if just to work on lessening my insomnia and nightmares. Hannah will understand. She’ll probably come with me.
I’d never have imagined that someone leaving me unexpectedly could work out as the best exercise for me. I let Hannah go off and speak with Doug, do whatever it was that she needed to do, and I didn’t go chasing after her in a panic. I trusted she’d come home to me, just as the Skinks finally came to me this morning.
I finally dug down deep inside myself and trusted in the strength of this beautiful love. I trusted in us. After I kicked that tin full of firewood, bloody naff that I am.
“Tripp. It’s finished,” Marcel says, pulling his shoulders back proudly as he beams beside the large, four-story wooden bird cage he’s built. I asked him to create it for Jughead and two more exotic birds I’ve ordered. He’s been working on this project for two days, while JF has been mapping out what will become the future Learning Centre for Ornithology, Maggie’s Place, with wooden stakes. The open aviary for viewing wild birds will be built beside the protected forest, but we’re waiting on the go-ahead from Island Planning. Shouldn’t take more than another two weeks, at most. The fellow I spoke with said that they’d send out an environmental inspector in a few days, and because I’ve sent detailed preliminary plans, it is quite likely she’ll give us the okay and set everything in motion once she’s here.
The tall wooden cage is cloaked in the orange light of the setting sun. I sigh with pure contentment, walk over to Marcel, and extend my hand. He takes it and pulls me in for a manly hug—back slap and all.
“It’s perfect,” I say, standing back to admire the cage once more. “A beautiful job, thank you. Thank you as well, you two.” JF and Béa smile and nod but continue with their work.
“Boo-tiful,” Jughead squawks from inside the roomy, green-roofed wooden hut. He’s not looking at us, though. He’s sitting on his rope swing, staring at the female Hahn’s mini-macaw I ordered two days ago as a surprise for Hannah. In her first task as my new assistant, Béa picked Betty up for me off a small boat this morning and brought her here this afternoon. She’s also helping JF with the mapping and with staining my rustic signs.
Jughead is in awe of his new roommate. In fact, he’s been rather tongue tied until this moment. Marcel starts hammering the first picket-fence style rustic sign I made, “Jughead and Betty” to the top of the new cage. It looks just right, if I do say so myself.
“How much manual labor do I have to do to get a tray of tea and crumpets around here?”
Hannah’s amused voice echoes across the forest. As always, I find the tone of her voice melodic. It gives me goosebumps. As she draws closer to me I see that she’s wearing the strangest outfit: a sequined cap, blue slicker, and some kind of mermaid tail. I don’t bother to ask. Unpredictable. I need to get used to that.
I run to meet her, but realize partway there that instead of looking romantic, I look like a bit of an ape. I’m only managing a running limp, because my ankle’s still sore. Never mind, Hannah seems to be having her own problems. She’s waddling over here like a duck.
When we finally reach one another, she looks at my bandaged ankle, and I look at her mermaid skirt and blueberry slicker, and we burst out laughing. I sweep her up in my arms, lifting her feet off the ground as I hug her tight.
“You got me a Betty bird?” Her eyes sparkle.
“I got you a Betty bird, yea. About that.” We take our eyes off one another for a second to watch Jughead and Betty, staring at each other from opposite ends of their cage.
“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think he may actually prefer an Archie.” I say.
Hannah covers her mouth with both her hands, trying not to snicker.
“Seriously. He hasn’t even preened her,” I say. “Nevertheless, we are stuck with a Betty bird for now.”
“Tripp, I love your brain, but we don’t have time for a lecture on the intricacies of bird sexuality right now.” She giggles, but I notice she’s anxiously looking over her shoulder. She turns around, taking in our ongoing projects. “Oh, I love everything.” She reads the rustic sign out loud, her voice cracking a little. Hannah’s House of Rare Birds…”
“I wanted you to have your very own corner,” I say. “The center will be called Maggie’s Place, because, you know…”
“I know,” she says, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. It’s all I need. She’s all I need.
“So,” I say, trying to swallow back the strong emotion I�
��m feeling. “Purple wellies and a mermaid dress? Is that a Canadian thing?”
“Yeah.” She chuckles. “What can I say, I’m a trend setter.”
“Bloody love it.”
“So, you’re not angry?” Hannah looks up at me with tears in her eyes.
“I was livid that you went to see Doug, but I got over it. Working on surprises that I know you’ll love helped change my mood. Thinking of you always does.” I squeeze both her hands and add in a near-whisper, so Béa and the boys don’t hear, “I hope my nightmares didn’t scare you off.”
“God, no Tripp.” Her sad eyes tell me a story. “I should have stayed with you. Doug tricked me—told me my mother was in trouble. She’s fine, but…” She turns my body away from the new cage and my tent, positioning me so that I can see the main road where I parked the truck. She looks terribly unnerved. “We’re about to have a bit of a crisis.”
“Crisis?” We only just got through being separated. I can’t take another bloody crisis.
“In about two minutes, a mob of angry environmentalists is going to march down here and tear this place apart. They’re against this project.”
“Oh, is that all?” I try to joke, but all I can think about is how dull my life was pre-Hannah. I notice three uniformed officers walking briskly toward us, followed by a muscular young fellow dressed in black and a couple of modern day hippies.
“Not them—they’re on our side,” Hannah explains. “These are my new friends, Hank, Sandy, and Nadia.” She pulls off her blue slicker and tosses it to the ground, hoists her green strapless dress so everything’s properly covered, raises her fists, and braces her entire body in preparation for a fight.
“Does it have to go down like this?” I ask feebly, and then I hear shouting. Angry shouting. The officers take their positions, forming a barrier between Hannah, me and my team, her friends, and the coming protestors.
Looking around, I grab the piece of four-by-four lying beside the cage, just in case.
“Can’t I just try serving them tea and crumpets?” I whimper.
“Save the trees! Save the trees!”
Twenty or so protestors have been standing shoulder to shoulder, facing us, chanting this slogan for the last five minutes. I made sure Hannah and my team were safely behind the row of officers, and eventually, we all sat down in a circle. The protestors are still standing, still screaming. They’re bloody persistent, and I have a blasted headache.
“But I’m not killing any trees.” I look over quizzically at Hannah, and she shrugs her shoulders.
“Fake news, spiraling out of control,” she shouts over the boisterous protestors.
I blink in disbelief. I dealt with this kind of nonsense during Maggie’s class action suit, and now it’s happening all over again. Can’t a man be left alone to do something good?
“Back off! Give them space!” The female officer finally shouts at the angry crowd.
A male officer with a strong French accent pushes the crowd back. “You can protest but you can’t touch them, or you’ll be arrested!”
Sandy and Nadia are whispering to one another. She nods at him, and he gets up. The male officer approaches him, and Sandy says something to him that I can’t hear. The officer raises his arm with authority and manages to get the protestors’ attention.
“Listen up. Ecoutez! This one has something to say.”
The crowd’s shouts fade to a dull murmur.
“I’m Sandy. I joined this protest while on holiday, believing I was fighting to save this old forest, but it turns out, Tripp Wilson is doing the very same thing. He’s not the enemy, here. He’s filed to get the forest protected status, and he’s building a center that will enlighten and educate. I hate to say it, but we were wrong about everything.”
The crowd boos at him. They aren’t convinced. Nadia stands, brushes some dirt and old leaves off her coveralls, and takes Sandy’s hand. They stand side by side as Nadia speaks.
“Please, please listen.” Her voice and stance seem to have an instant calming effect on the crowd. “Look around. Have any trees been cut yet? No. This man is true to his word. I’ve spoken with him about it and heard him out and think we were given very wrong information about what’s going on here. You all need to hear his story and decide for yourselves. Tripp?”
She looks down at me and stretches out her hand, urging me to get up and speak. I look at Hannah. She nods. I look over at the wooden stakes that JF and Béa just placed in the ground, marking the beginnings of something beautiful, and I know that I have to fight for it. I stand up and face the crowd.
“Hi. I’m Tripp.” I look out at their faces. They finally look receptive. I have a couple of hippies to thank for that. Life certainly is full of surprises.
“I want to tell you about someone.” I take a deep breath, trying to stop my voice from shaking. “I want to tell you about the woman I’m naming this center after. She was good to the core, and I promise you this place will only do good.”
I finally let myself exhale, and I tell them my story.
“Her name was Maggie.”
Thirty-eight
Tripp
There are only three protestors left in the forest. They’re harmlessly standing by the new cage, watching Béa talk to Jughead and Betty. Béa is putting on quite an entertaining show for the onlookers, and it reinforces my decision to ask her to work here fulltime. Besides, that way, Hannah and I can keep an eye out for her.
I’ve come a long way from four years ago. I just poured my heart out to a crowd of strangers in an old growth forest. I told them all about Maggie and how I’m using the funds to build something that will do good, for the birds, the forest, and this community. After a moment of silence that had my stomach in knots, I heard thunderous applause, and the protestors started talking to one another and to my team behind me. After a while, they simply picked up their signs and walked back to the ferry or their island homes. One senior protestor did come up and speak with me afterwards. He looked at the ground, unable to meet my eyes.
“What you’ve been through… I can hardly believe it… I just can’t imagine,” he said, shaking my hand. “I look forward to seeing what you do here.”
After my initial shock over what had just occurred waned, I approached two of the officers with Hannah, and they took down our witness report about the incident. They’ll do a full investigation on that news article which slandered my name. Hannah’s female officer friend promised someone with a badge would make an appearance at the Festival’s VIP after-party tonight to pull Doug and his publicist aside for questioning. Hannah feels vindicated that at the very least, they’ll be embarrassed in front of their industry peers.
Now that the crowd has dispersed, and the police have left, it’s my peaceful forest again.
The sun sits low in the sky, and a multitude of birds have returned to sing farewell to the day. In the distance, I hear the Skinks Babbler, but I can’t see where she’s hiding in this low light. I point her joyful song out to Hannah.
“Listen. That twill-twill-twill sound? It’s her.”
“Her? That’s wonderful. She might have babies then?”
“Anything’s possible.” I wrap my arm around Hannah’s waist and look up to the sky, streaked with a thin veil of orange and red clouds. “I snapped a few photos before she flew away. I can’t wait to examine them more closely and report to Oxford on my findings.”
“Do you think we could maybe… uh… eat something before you do all that?” Hannah says, giving me a half-smile. She knows my workaholic ways too well already.
“Of course, of course. We could join Sandy and Nadia, they just said they’re heading to the pub, and maybe Hank and Béa…”
We turn to look at the newly introduced pair. He’s leaning against the tall cage and she’s got her back up against a tree trunk. They’re standing rather close. Béa pu
ts her hand to her chest and throws her head back in giddy laughter. He leans in closer. He can’t seem to take his eyes off of her.
“Uh,” I say, grinning, “I should think they’ll be making private plans tonight.” Hannah winks at me. The little devil. She suspected this might happen when she asked Hank to come work for me.
“I offered him my tent tonight. I just hope he has strength left to work on my projects in the morning,” I chuckle. “Love can do strange things to a man.”
“It can?” Hannah smirks. “How would you know?”
“If you don’t want to spend the night here in my tent, I’d behave,” I say.
“It would be okay…” She pulls her hair back and starts to put it up. “If you want…”
“That roomy four poster bed would be better.” I grin, stroking her forearm lightly.
“Right. Taxi!” She yells, laughing, and it echoes across the forest floor. Our friends look over at us, then go back to what they were doing, all except Nadia and Sandy.
“You guys need a cab? You know, back home, we have this awesome electric car, shame we didn’t bring it…” Sandy says. I sense a discourse coming on, but I desperately want to get Hannah back to the house, so I cut him off.
“Oh no mate, it’s all good, I have my truck. What about you two?”
“We want to set up camp here, if you’re still fine with that.” Nadia answers. “Clear skies, no rain in the forecast. We’re happy to watch Jughead and Betty until you’re back tomorrow morning.”
I smile when she mentions rain. It’s romantic to me now. It’s all I knew early days with Hannah.
“Sounds good, thanks,” I say and take the two small lace bags she hands me. “What’s this?”
“It’s lavender from our farm. You can put it under your pillows tonight. I also have some lavender tea in my bag…”
I do my best to smile politely at my quirky new friend. “Oh, no. I mean, thanks, but this is enough. This is lovely.” I say. “We’ll sleep like babies.” Lavender tea? Eck. What dim-witted numpty thought that one up?
Good Nights Page 16