Bird After Bird (13 page)

“Absolutely.” I started the truck, and Hap jumped to his feet in the bed, wagging his tail. “Where to, Madame?”

She gestured with her now-empty water bottle down the gravel lane. “This way about a mile on the right.” She dropped the bottle and wrapped herself in the blanket. “You ever seen a Snowy Owl?”

Chapter Nineteen

Wren

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about jumping him right there at Goose Pond. I could have straddled him, teased him, driven him crazy, rocked his world before we went our separate ways.

It’s supposed to be okay to do stuff like that, as long as you’re “safe.” I’m on the pill and have never had sex without a condom, but that doesn’t mean casual sex is always
safe
.

It wasn’t that I thought Laurie was dangerous—not in a stalker/killer kind of way. He seemed strong in that lanky/wiry guy sort of way, but he didn’t give off a dangerous vibe. Not at all.

I wasn’t all that worried about being discovered at the Fish & Wildlife Area, either. It’s barely patrolled.

No, something inside told me to wait. I’d rushed into sex in my last few relationships, and although I hadn’t necessarily been hurt, I’d become more entangled with the men than I’d liked. Sex has a way of making men more territorial and women more needy. I could manage my end of the teeter-totter, but Laurie was so nice…I didn’t want to hurt him. I wasn’t totally sure I could live with myself if I did.

I loved his body, but I wanted to know his heart. The heart that smiled at me through those gorgeous eyes.

Laurie put the truck into gear and we rolled at a snail’s pace down the gravel road. The Fish and Wildlife Area is massive, and a magnet for migratory birds of many, many species. As we rolled, I called out what I saw.

“Red-tail hawk over here,” I said, pointing to the low-diving raptor on the right. It flew parallel to the truck before extending its talons to attack its prey.

Laurie smiled. I gazed for a long moment at his profile as he drove. I knew he was handsome when we’d first met, but now…

“What’s that one?” he asked, pointing to the left. “The big brown one?”

The unmistakable movement of an enormous pair of wings had caught his eye. The nest was well-known to regional birders.

“That, my friend, is a juvenile bald eagle. That’s kind of a popular nest.”

He pulled to a stop. “For real?” He rolled his window down, and I leaned in to show him the nest and get a better look at which eagle family members were nearby.

He was warm now, and the feeling of his bare chest against my arm sent a shock of sensation through me. I wanted to kiss his warm earthy skin. I rested my cheek against his bare shoulder.

“See the nest up there?” I pointed to the treetops, where a basket of branches as big as an upturned Volkswagen housed the eagles and their offspring. “That’s the nest. And that’s a great spot for a beginner.” I patted his leg as I resumed my place.

He scoffed. “Who says I’m a beginner?”

“Well, you said you didn’t know much about birds, so…”

“Correction, Ms. Carolina Wren. I said I don’t know much about
water fowl
.”

I had to laugh. “I stand corrected, Mr…”

And that’s when I realized I couldn’t remember his last name. I knew he had told me. Where did it go? It would come to me any second!

His face fell. Then he stared straight ahead and whispered something.

“What’s that?” I said, afraid to ask too loudly.

“Bird,” he said. At least that’s what I thought he said.

I looked to the right. “Oh, the Snowy? It’s up on the right a bit further. At least, that’s where it’s been hanging out. There are scads of them up in Chicago, all around the lake. This is the biggest irruption we’ve had in years, honestly—“

He cut me off, taking my hand. I had no idea what he was about to say.

“Wren Riley,” he said, speaking softly, a playful look in his eyes. “Of all the names to slip your mind. I can’t believe it.”

I was mortified. I felt horrible. Was I blushing? “I’m sorry.”

He started to open his mouth, then he closed it again. Why was he being so weird about his name?

Finally, he pulled his wallet off the dash, flipped it open, and pulled out his driver’s license. He handed it to me.

“I want
you
to say it, so I know you’ll never forget. I want to hear you say my name.”

I felt my face heat up. I was blushing for sure. He wasn’t picking on me too much for not remembering his name, was he? Why was he being such a…

Then I read it.

“Laurence Byrd,” I said.

“What’s that?”

 “Laurie
Byrd
. Byrd, like a bird, like a birdy birdy bird.”

He took his license back, put it away, and patted me on the leg. “Great spot for a beginner,” he said, winking as he put the truck into gear.

Chapter Twenty

Laurie

We found the Snowy, and I wanted to pull out my book and sketch it, but I didn’t want Wren to think I was showing off.

She got out her phone and snapped a pic. “A little blurry, but not bad,” she said, showing me her handiwork. She leaned into me then, and surprised me by taking a selfie of the two of us. “Hrm. Do you ever smile?”

“Not since before Basic.”

She hit the delete button and leaned into me again. This time, I felt her fingers poking me in the side, so I managed a grin. “Better,” she said.

“Sorry. They threatened us in the military that they’d beat us if we smiled in our photos, and I guess I haven’t really learned to let that go.” I stopped short of telling her that Sylvia and my mother had griped at me for the same reason.

“You never smile in any of your photos,” Sylvia had written.

“We’re at war,” I’d replied. “It’s not a lot of fun.”

“Smile if you love me,” she’d said, and then…

Wren took off her shirt—my shirt, and handed it to me. She slipped into her own, now dry, asking something about food.

“What’s that?”

“So, you want to get some pizza? I know a great place, and I don’t think they’ll mind too much if we smell like the marsh.” Wren was giving me that dazzling smile and I decided to stay in the here and now, not lose myself to memories.

“Never say no to pizza.” I slipped my shirt back on and asked, “Mind if we get it to go? I don’t want to leave Hap in the back of the truck for very long.”

“No problem,” she said. “I love indoor picnics.”

“Point me to the pizza house, milady.”

Wren gave me directions, dressing as we drove. She pulled a zippered pouch from her purse and did her makeup in the mirror of a compact.

Not that she needed it. Still, I liked that she felt comfortable enough to put on lipstick in front of me. It felt like being privy to a secret.

“So, you were in the military?”

“That surprises you?”

“Well, I guess it explains the haircut.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I got used to having it short. It was really long in high school. Curly.”

“I bet that was hot,” she said.

I smiled, feeling myself blush.

“So…a soldier, a mechanic, and an artist. You’re kind of a renaissance man, Laurie Byrd.”

I felt embarrassed for a moment, and as we pulled into the parking lot of the pizza place, I realized why. “Look, Wren, I’m sorry about the first time we met.”

“Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?”

“You reached for one of my paintings and I over-reacted. I’ve been too guarded about my work. It was silly of me to stop you from looking. Can you forgive me?”

I parked the truck in the only empty spot in the lot, and waited for her answer.

“Oh, I don’t know, Laurie,” she said, her expression. “If ripping my clothes off in your truck and kissing you in a public park isn’t the first sign I’ve forgiven you, I don’t know what is.”

“Mmm, maybe I’ll stiff you with the check next.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, flashing those flirty eyes at me again.

I shrugged.

“Only because the punishment is so very, very sweet.” I leaned forward and touched her cheek, and pulled her into a kiss. She tasted and smelled terrific, muddy lake or no muddy lake. I felt something inside me letting go as I held her tighter, kissing her. I started to slip my hands beneath her shirt, and she moaned when my fingers touched her skin.

“WOOOOO, BABY!”

I looked up, and some woman was giving us the fist pump, laughing and cheering. She was joined by a taller gentleman in field dress, with a pair of binoculars around his neck. “Get ‘im, girl!” Her voice could have shouted down a foghorn.

“Friends of yours?”

Wren laughed. “Yeah. Sure are. C’mon, and I’ll introduce you to Rhoda and her husband.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Wren

Janice called while I was driving back to Chicago.

“What up, girlfriend?”

“Oh, just driving.”

“You did the bird thing today?”

I thought about Laurie. I thought about telling Janice that I almost did the Byrd, but I knew she wouldn’t get it and I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk about this guy yet.

“Totally did the bird, baby. Those birds got diddly doodly done, honey.”

She cracked up. “God, I’m going to miss you when I move.”

“Did you set a date?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m calling. The board asked me to go ahead and start this week, so I was hoping you could swing by the house tonight for a little going-away shindig.”

“A shindig? When do you know me to ever pass up a shindig?”

“Never! I knew I could count on you, Birdy.”

Birdy.
Byrd
. Could it be the same guy? My mind probed to make the connection between the artful letters I’d found and the man with a similar name. The artist with the kind eyes.

“You still there, Birdy?” Janice asked.

“Yeah, I’m still here…sorry…just something on my mind, I guess.”

“What’s his name?”

“Who said anything about a
he
?”

Janice laughed, but her tone was more caring then mocking. “For real, Birdy,
what’s his name
.”

I sighed. “Laurence.”

She cracked up. “Oh no you didn’t! You didn’t meet a man named Laurence in the middle of the swamp! I swear to God, there ought to be a mandatory chaperone for you every time you leave the city! You come back talking with a twang and hooking up with farmers, I might not even help you find a job in the Big Apple, you hear me?”

I laughed. “I hear ya, girl. I guess I’ll let you go.” I started to reach for the “end” button on my phone, but Janice was still talking.

“Don’t you dare hang up on me, Wren. Tell me about this Laurence guy. Is he a farmer? Did I offend you—oh my God, he
is
! He’s a farmer!”

Her panic was hilarious. “Janice, Janice! No! He’s not a farmer. And he doesn’t go by Laurence. He goes by Laurie, like the character in—“

“Like Laurie in Little Women?”

“Yeah.”

Janice took a deep breath. “Wait. That’s the guy you texted me a photo of a few weeks back. You saw him again?”