Until I Found You (7 page)

“The hearing was cancelled.”

“So we need to fill page three.” Relieved to be done with the book discussion, he followed Kate to Leona’s office. After she sat in front of the monitor, he stood behind her, one hand on the desk as he leaned forward to see the thumbnails of the newspaper pages displayed on the screen. Kate clicked on page four, then leaned back so he could review the articles. “I don’t see anything we can promote. Do you?”

The stories were all routine. The annual Christmas tree thinning—an event where residents were allowed into the forest to cut down pines tagged by the Forest Service for removal—was planned for early November. A bear had been spotted at the dump. While noteworthy, the sighting was an isolated incident and not hard news. The third story covered the renewal of the school superintendent’s contract for the fifth time in five years. Last, he saw a two-inch hole at the bottom of the page.“There’s nothing worth moving up to page three, but we can fill the hole with a vandalism story.”

“What happened?”

“Colton Smith graffitied the men’s room at the park.” He told her about Colton repainting the bathroom and the negotiation about the color choice. “I promised him a picture if he does a good job.”

“Sure.” Kate grinned. “If he goes with hot pink, it’ll even be newsworthy.”

She leaned back in the big chair and bumped into him. As he recovered his balance, she looked over her shoulder. “Sorry. I’m not used to this desk. At Sutton I have a cubicle with a worktable half this size.”

“You must miss it.”

“I do,” she admitted. “But Leona needs me and so does the
Clarion
. Any ideas for page three?”

“Just one.” He shifted to the chair across from her. “How about an update on the ‘Save the Condor’ program? Your sighting of Number 53 makes it timely.”

“That sounds good. In fact, it’s perfect.”

“I’ll call Marcus right now.”

Nick reached the biologist in two rings and told him about Kate’s condor sighting. The biologist’s voice crackled with interest, but he couldn’t talk at the moment. “Can you two come to the launch site tomorrow?”

When Nick relayed the invitation, Kate’s face lit up. “I’d love to, but I have to make arrangements for Leona. Hold on while I call Dody.” She picked up the office phone, reached Dody, and gave Nick a thumbs up.

“We’re on,” he said to Marcus. “What time?”

“Around noon.”

“We’ll be there.”

He and Kate ended their calls in unison, looked at each other, and smiled. Nick told himself this was business—not a date—but it felt like one.

“I can’t wait,” she said, giving a little shiver.

He enjoyed the same pleasant anticipation, which meant he had to leave before he suggested dinner at a cozy Mexican place in Maricopa. “Anything else before I go?”

“Just one thing.” Brushing past him, she walked out of the office. “Leona wrote you a note. It’s in your box.”

He followed her into the lobby, where she handed him a small yellow envelope. Curious, he sliced it open and read the card.
Thank you for saving Kate’s life. Come
and visit, okay?
This was a good time to see her, so he tucked the card in his pocket. “Leona wants me to stop by. I’ll head there next.”

Kate wrinkled her nose in a cute way he was beginning to recognize. “I hate to ask you for another favor, but I saw your truck out front.”

“What do you need?”

“Before the stroke, Leona ordered three hundred daffodil bulbs, bone meal, and some whiskey barrels. The order is in at the Acorn, but it won’t all fit in the Subaru. Would you mind picking it up?”

“I’d be glad to.” Nick hauled stuff for people all the time.

“Thank you.” Relief washed over her face, but her brow furrowed again. “Speaking of your truck, I’m a little nervous about the drive to the launch site.”

“Because of the accident?”

Hugging herself, she gave a little shudder. “I hate mountain roads. How bad is the one we’ll be taking?”

“Not bad at all.” He thought a moment. “In fact, it’s perfect for the bike. You might even feel more secure.”

“I doubt that.”

He knew something she didn’t. “I’m serious. The truck has a high center of gravity and pulls against the turns. The bike hugs the road. What do you say? How about a ride on a Harley?”

“Hmm.”

She didn’t say no, which meant she wanted to say yes but was afraid. If he provided a safety net, maybe she’d muster her courage. “If you don’t like it after a couple miles, we’ll go back for the truck.”

She chewed her lip some more. “I want to say yes, but a motorcycle?” She shook her head.

“Have you ever been on one?”

“No. Never.”

“Why not give it a try? We’ll go as slow as you want.”

She made another humming sound, shifted on her feet, then leveled her gaze into his. “How slow?”

“I’ll keep it under fifty.”

“That’s too fast.”

If she wanted to negotiate, so would he. “Make it forty.”

“Thirty.”

“Thirty-five.”

Laughing, she offered a handshake. “It’s a deal, but I’m holding you to thirty-five tops.”

“Agreed.”

He took her hand, felt the soft skin, and thought of the work required to plant three hundred daffodil bulbs. Kate had better things to do than dig like a gopher. Nick, on the other hand, needed to forget her soft skin and ponder buying the
Clarion
. Physical labor helped him to sort his thoughts; so did being outdoors under the high sky and bright sun. He didn’t say a word to Kate, but when she went home, the daffodils would be in the ground waiting for spring.

W
hen something heavier than a
squirrel
shook the tree outside her bedroom window, Kate startled awake. She was accustomed to city sounds—traffic noise, horns, even the LAPD helicopter sweeping her quiet neighborhood with a beam of light in search of a robbery suspect. At home in her condo she would have rolled over and gone back to sleep, but in Meadows the unexpected rustle of leaves signaled the arrival of an unwanted guest. A bear? Maybe.

The branch swayed again, then something thumped onto the deck. Bears occasionally wandered down the back of Mount Abel. Not often, but it happened enough for Kate to hurry down the stairs to check the kitchen window she’d left open at Leona’s request. Her grandmother liked to hear the blue jays in the morning. So did Kate, but she didn’t want a bear to get a whiff of leftover taco casserole and invade the kitchen.

Moving quickly through the dark, she hurried to the window above the sink and slid it shut. Still nervous, she flipped on the outside light and peered into the oak tree where three pairs of eyes stared back at her. Raccoons . . . a mother and
two babies. With their backs arched, the masked marauders stared through the glass. Their bandit faces weren’t so cute with their teeth showing, a reminder that danger lurked everywhere, especially in the form of handsome men who rode motorcycles.

She had to be crazy to say yes to riding the Harley, but Nick’s confidence had persuaded her. So did the connection she’d felt in the conference room. He’d hidden his disappointment about the book quickly, but for a blink she’d seen his anguish.

The raccoons wore masks and so did Nick, though his mask hid a tender spot and not sharp teeth. Hugging herself, she thought of the daffodils he’d planted. When spring arrived, the driveway would be lined with flowers as yellow as the yellow brick road in the
Wizard of Oz.
Leona loved the movie and so did Kate, though she couldn’t relate to Dorothy’s clicking her heels and wanting to go home. For Kate, home was an address that changed with the seasons of her life. That wasn’t true for Leona. For her, home meant this house, this town. When Kate told her about Nick’s interest in buying the paper, Leona had looked a little sad, then given a thumbs up. If Nick agreed, several of Kate’s problems would be solved.

A step at a time, she told herself.

One moment at a time . . . moments that were knit together to make a life . . . lives that somehow made a community, a world where the sun rose and set with stunning regularity. And yet each day was different—random—the colors of dawn changed, the weather changed. Today the eastern sky glowed with the intensity of ultraviolet. Beautiful and bright, it promised sunshine for the ride to see the condors, which meant there was no chance Nick would opt to take his truck.

Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep, she hunted through
the bookcase for the album of her grandfather’s photographs, the one Leona put together after he died. Kate had a copy of her own, and she never tired of browsing through the photographs and reading her grandmother’s introduction.

Condor Country

By Leona Darby

Eons before human beings drove these mountain roads, condors graced the sky. In ancient times they fed on mammoths and lived free from the dangers that arrived with modern times. The Chumash Indians arrived here first. In caves west of Meadows, sand paintings tell the story of condors traveling between heaven and earth, bringing messages from the gods.

At the turn of the century, ranchers joined the parade of history. Stray cattle provided the birds with an occasional feast, but wild game felled with lead bullets turned poisonous. In the 1960s, DDT caused the shells of condor eggs to become thin and crack. Mature adults flew into power lines, poisoned themselves with antifreeze, and became a trophy bird for poachers. At the turn of the century, a hundred birds graced the sky. Five decades later, the number was down to sixty.

On a clear day in August of 1965, Alexander Darby was exploring San Miguel canyon when he spotted one of the few remaining condors. A photographer by trade, he took pictures of the bird, not knowing her destiny. That bird—identified later by the distinct pattern of her feathers—was AC-7, the last female in the wild and the bird whose DNA helped to save the species. Biologists named her Tuyu, which means
mother
in the language of the local Chumash Indians. Thus began an effort that has spanned close to fifty years and witnessed the return of the condors to the wild.

My husband dedicated his life to telling the world about these magnificent birds. The photographs are his, but the story belongs to the biologists who saved a species through
hard work, knowledge, and the faith to pursue an unseen future. Ultimately, though, this tribute belongs to the California condor.

A bird that isn’t pleasing to the eye yet still is beautiful.

A bird that mates for life.

A bird that faced extinction and was given new life by a power greater than itself. As Alex would say, the ultimate glory belongs to God—the original scientist, the perfect artist, our creator, and loving father.

Kate read the introduction again and stopped at the same place she always stopped.
The
faith to pursue an unseen future.
Was faith what she needed to live without constant worry? The cure for the anxiety that made her insides churn? But where did faith come from? Kate couldn’t turn a blind eye on reality. The paper had to be managed, maybe sold. Leona needed help. And wise or not, in a few hours she’d climb on a motorcycle and speed to a place she’d never been before. The ride, she realized, took faith—faith in Nick. Kate didn’t understand God, but she would never forget the strength of Nick’s grip, holding tight and keeping her from falling to the bottom of that canyon. A happy warmth wiped away the fear, and the safe feeling stayed as she enjoyed the old photographs. It lasted through breakfast with Leona, a hot shower, deciding what to wear, and Dody’s arrival.

With her morning in order, Kate stepped outside to wait for Nick with her sunglasses, camera, and little purse in hand. Slowly, like the start of an earthquake, a distant rumble filled her ears. She recognized the burble of a Harley and worried.

The motorcycle sped up the hill, its engine throaty and full of power, until Nick coasted into the driveway. Still trembling, she took in the black tee shirt hugging his broad shoulders
and the worn Levis that capped heavy black boots. Everything about him inspired confidence—and something else . . . a hint of those special feelings she didn’t want to have for a man who lived in the woods, rode a motorcycle, and took chances. She belonged at Sutton, not here. But they were going to see the condors, and everything else about the day felt right.

He cut the engine, removed his gloves, and pried off his helmet. Unmindful of her, he smoothed his hair with his fingers, then climbed off the bike and looked up. His dark eyes focused on her face first, then skimmed her city-girl leather jacket, skinny jeans, and finally the hiking boots that somehow looked as sexy as four-inch heels.

Nick smiled. “Are you ready?”

Fear of cliffs and curves shot through her veins. “I’m . . . I’m . . .” She twittered like a chipmunk. “Maybe we should take the truck.”

He watched her for a moment, perhaps gauging the inconvenience of switching vehicles, while she mulled the choice between faith in Nick and fear of the unknown. The screen door squeaked on its hinges. As she turned, the rubber tip of a cane poked through the door and tapped on the doormat. Leona shuffled outside with Dody behind her, waved at Nick, then turned to Kate and playacted a shiver of excitement.

“I’m a little scared,” Kate admitted in a whisper.

Leaning heavily on the cane, Leona gripped Kate’s arm as if she were small and needed help to cross the street. How many times had she encouraged Kate to stay brave and think big, to dream and trust God? Kate no longer shared her grandmother’s faith, but the memories were alive, and she called on them now. “It’s time to be brave, isn’t it?”

After a solemn nod, Leona lowered her hand and stepped to the railing, where she waved a greeting to Nick, who called back a hearty hello. Kate kissed her grandmother’s cheek,
hugged Dody, and descended the stairs like a beauty queen feigning confidence. When she reached the Harley, Nick opened a storage compartment and offered her a silver helmet that matched his. “It’s a beautiful day for a ride, but I’ll get the truck if you’d like.”

“I’m okay.” She handed over her purse and camera, and he gave her the helmet. “Before we go anywhere, I want to say thank you for planting the daffodils. When I came home last night I could hardly believe it.”

“Glad to help,” he answered easily. “Let’s put the helmet on you.”

She slipped it on and fastened the clasp, but the chin strap hung loose. When she tried to tighten it, the thick fabric didn’t budge.

Nick tipped his head to inspect the fit. “Let me help.”

His warm fingers brushed her throat . . . once . . . twice . . . a third time before the strap tightened. A little zing went down her spine, then to her toes—both from his touch and the smoky aftershave on his smooth jaw. Why did she have to notice such things? She wanted to be Nick’s friend—nothing more.

He shifted his gaze to her face. “How’s that?”

“It’s good.”

“Too tight?”

“No, it’s just right.”

Without the beard scruff he belonged on the cover of
GQ
in an Armani suit, or in a courtroom fighting for justice. Or maybe on the back of a fire engine in a turnout coat. Slightly more confident, she put on her sunglasses and wondered if Sally Ride, the first female astronaut, had been nervous before lift-off.

Nick slipped on his helmet and offered his hand. “Here we go.”

Kate gripped his fingers, swung her leg over the engine, and scooted onto a passenger seat that included a padded backrest and curved arms. “This feels like a couch.”

“That’s the idea.” He swung onto the bike, pulled it upright, and started the engine. The famous Harley burble filled her ears, but it didn’t rattle her bones the way she expected.

Nick looked over his shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“I’m all set.”

He gave an offhand salute to Leona and Dody. Kate waved with him, then gripped the armrests and stared straight ahead as he pulled out of the driveway and coasted downhill. When they reached San Miguel Highway, he turned west. After a few miles, the pine forest gave way to rolling hills covered with dry grass. Most mountain roads hugged the side of a slope; this one twisted along the crest and offered a view that stretched north, south, east, and west. To the north Kate saw the San Joaquin Valley, checkered with green crops and fallow brown earth. The back slope of the coastal mountains rose in the distant south, a wall of sorts between the dry inland and the ocean.

Cattle grazed on a hill, all chewing in slow motion as they watched the motorcycle glide by. A line of quail waddled across the road, not bothering to hurry because Nick slowed the bike to a crawl. There wasn’t a car in sight, yet Kate felt the frustration of an L.A. traffic jam. When the quail passed and Nick returned to the leisurely pace, she peeked at the speedometer. Just as he had promised, the needle was midway between thirty and forty mph.

Some of her fear melted. Not all of it, but enough to inspire her to lean forward and shout to Nick over the engine noise. “Could we go a little faster?”

He cocked his head. “Did you say faster?”

“Yes, please.”

He brought the bike up to a daring forty miles an hour. “How’s that?”

“It’s good,” she shouted. Nestling back in the seat, she drew in a breath. Somehow the speed heightened her senses. The grass smelled richer; the air sweeter. Colors shimmered in the morning light, and her face burned with sun and wind. Alive with a sensation that overcame the last of her fear, she raised her voice. “Faster!”

Nick said something she couldn’t hear.

“
Faster!
” she repeated.

He answered with a nod, then worked the clutch and cranked the throttle. The engine wound up, up, up . . . until the gears shifted and they rocketed into what felt like a different dimension. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held tight. Shielded from the wind, she marveled at the heady rush of freedom, the excitement, and the peculiar rightness of being with a man who handled life with authority.

As the road veered west, Nick leaned into the curve. Trusting him completely, she leaned with him. A tunnel loomed in front of them. In a blink the motorcycle shot into it. Darkness blinded her and cool air slapped her cheeks, but she wasn’t afraid. Nick had everything under control.