What We Found

by Kris Bock

  As I drove out of town, I asked, “So what’s this meeting Mom’s going to? She didn’t say.” And I’d been glad enough to get away without questions, so I hadn’t asked any.

  “It’s her dating group.”

  “Dating?”

  “Yeah, mature singles or something. Mom complains about the name because she said it makes them sound old. I guess she’s one of the youngest ones there.” Ricky was playing on his phone as he talked, hardly paying attention to the conversation.

  “How long has she been doing this?”

  “Um, a year, maybe?”

  “First I’ve heard about it,” I muttered as I turned onto the long dirt road to Nancy and Daniel’s place.

  Ricky shrugged. “It’s only once a month. You haven’t been here.”

  “Has she been going on dates?” Not that I’d mind. She was about to turn forty and was still attractive. It would be good for her to find someone—if she could keep him. More likely, she’d drive him away and get even more bitter.

  “A few.” Ricky didn’t sound traumatized by the whole thing, though he was the one likely to suffer if Mom got a new man in her life.

  We came to a wide metal gate. “Get that, would you?” I said. Ricky hopped out, swung the gate open, and then closed it after I pulled the car through. He got back in and we drove the couple hundred feet to the house. I’d have to think about Mom and her boyfriends later.

  The house was a sprawling, low stucco building, the kind that had probably started as one or two rooms a hundred years ago and been built on by subsequent owners. A garden in the front grew half wild, but the plants looked healthy and scented the air with spicy smells. A huge, fluffy gray cat lay on its back, crushing some new shoots. It looked at us as we walked up the path, then rolled over and went back to sleep.

  I paused before knocking and murmured, “Don’t get all crazy with your interrogation. Remember, these people just lost someone they love, and we don’t want to make them feel bad.”

  “Don’t worry.” Ricky bounced and fidgeted. This was excitement to him. “We’ll be sneaky. But you could ask about the family. Pretend you’re interested in that guy, her brother. Girls want to know all about the guy they like, right?”

  Oh boy. Before I could think how to answer that one, the door opened. Nancy Griffin smiled at us, her gray hair still in a braid but her quiet funeral clothes replaced by a loose, peach-colored linen top and a rainbow gypsy skirt over clunky sandals. “Hello, hello! I thought I heard a car.”

  “Thank you for having us,” I said.

  “My pleasure. I always like to show off my birds.” She called back over her shoulder. “Daniel! We’ll do the tour first, then come back for tea.” She turned back to me. “Then Kyle can join us. He’s not home yet.”

  “Kyle lives here?” My voice came out squeaky.

  “Yes, but he had class this afternoon. He’ll be back soon.”

  So much for keeping this visit secret. My stomach fluttered at the thought of seeing him again. How was I supposed to act? What was I supposed to say, assuming I could manage to say anything? Would he think I was here because I had a crush on him—or would he suspect we were meddling? Which would be worse?

  Maybe if we hurried—if we did a quick tour and then I said we had to get home right away—we could avoid seeing Kyle. And if I was very, very lucky, maybe he’d never know I’d been there.

  I wasn’t feeling lucky.

  I followed Nancy and Ricky back through the garden and around the side of the house to another small building. It was stucco, too, with several doorways along one side. A kind of cage made of chain-link fencing ran along the building, so that you had to go inside the cage before you could get to any of the individual doors.

  Nancy led us into the chain-link area. “This is so if any of the birds get out of their rooms, they can’t fly away.” She opened one of the narrow doors to the building. She went in and Ricky followed, but I stood in the doorway to reduce the crowding. The room was about eight feet by eight feet and had a heavy, musky scent of animals and straw.

  A beautiful bird sat on a perch. I couldn’t identify different kinds of falcons and hawks, but this was clearly a bird of prey, with a sharply hooked beak and long claws on the yellow feet. It was only about a foot high, but the tiny black eyes rimmed with yellow had a fierce look, warning that this was not a cuddly pet.

  “This is Lucy,” Nancy said. “She’s a peregrine falcon, an old girl like me. She was a rescue. Got shot by a hunter. It’s illegal, but it happens. She can’t fly anymore because of her damaged wing, but she’s been a great breeder. She’s old for that now, too, but she’s an easy-going bird so I can take her on school visits or to other educational events.”

  “I think I remember you coming in fourth grade!” Ricky said.

  The bird turned her head to Ricky and shrieked, her little pink tongue visible in the open mouth. Nancy ran the back of her fingers down the bird’s breast. “Yep, that would have been us.”

  Ricky took a step closer, but he had the sense not to reach for the bird. “Wow! She’s amazing.”

  I edged in beside him. I’d never been this close to a falcon before. She had beautiful coloring, dark brown on the head and back, with a white throat that gave way to a mottled pattern of cream and brown on the breast. I had the urge to reach out and stroke her like Nancy had, but I wasn’t sure the bird would take that from strangers, and anyway it seemed rude.

  “The peregrine falcon may be the most advanced avian predator that ever existed, and certainly the fastest,” Nancy said.

  I drew closer and could tell one wing was different, part of it missing. I got a sudden image of Kyle and wondered if Nancy and Daniel took in injured creatures of all kinds. “Are all your birds rescued?”

  “No, but several are. Once I had birds, people knew me as ‘The Bird Lady’ and started bringing me injured birds. You have to have a permit to keep them, so I joined wildlife rescue.” She smiled at the falcon and I could feel the connection between the two of them. “In the summer, the hunting seasons are closed and the birds are molting. You can’t fly the birds, so I started breeding them. I think it’s good for their health, to pair up.”

  That made me think of Mom. I was reading symbolism into everything.

  She turned and gestured toward the door but kept talking as she followed us out. “So some are rescued, some were bred here, and a couple were wild caught. Falconry is addictive once you get started.” She opened another door a few feet down the outside wall. “In here we have a Harris hawk, Anna. She’s an incredible hunter.”

  This bird was dark brown, with reddish feathers on what I might call the shoulders of her wings, and a white band across the tail. Her coloring wasn’t as delicate and pretty as Lucy’s, but she was still a lovely bird.

  She spread her wings wide and hopped forward. I jerked back, but Nancy was ready for her and held out her arm. The bird landed on Nancy’s forearm and seemed to peer curiously at Ricky and me.

  “Harris hawks are more social than falcons,” Nancy said. “Plus, she’s an imprint.”

  “What’s that?” Ricky asked.

  “It means she was bred here and she imprinted on me rather than on her mother. She saw me first.”

  Ricky leaned closer, staring at the bird. “So you’re like her mother?”

  Nancy nodded. “Some falconers don’t like imprints. They’ll scream if they’re hungry, act out if they’re angry. They don’t have the aloof nobility of a wild-trapped bird. But I love the chance to see how the birds treat each other. With an imprint bird, you can go in and watch her feed the babies.”

  Ricky looked at me, his eyes wide. “Isn’t that cool?”

  It was indeed. I wasn’t that excited about the hunting aspect, but it would be something to watch tiny birds growing up.

  “How many birds do you have?” Ricky asked Nancy.

  “Seven right now, three falcons and four hawks. But I don’t fly all of them. You’re only allowed to h
unt with the ones on your falconry permit. The others are on my breeding permit or rescue permit. I have a falcon I take out in the morning, usually before sunrise, and two Harris hawks I take out in the afternoon to chase after rabbits. But one of those is breeding right now, so we only fly the young one in training.”

  “It must be a lot of work,” I said, eyeing Ricky. I hoped he wasn’t getting any serious ideas about this as a hobby.

  “Yes, but it keeps me young. I can’t imagine sticking to an exercise schedule, but if you have birds that need to be flown, you have to take them out.”

  She showed us a couple more birds and talked about her work with them. I was just as fascinated as Ricky—so much so that I forgot about rushing the tour. We must’ve spent forty-five minutes with the birds before Nancy closed the last door and said, “Come into the house and we’ll have some tea.”

  Ricky and I exchanged a look. I think he had forgotten the main purpose of our visit as well. But while I was ready to flee, he nodded with a serious look, as if it was time to get down to business. I knew if I said we had to go, he’d announce that we were on our own all evening. I tried to hold him back a little as Nancy headed for the house. “We need to get out of here,” I whispered.

  “But we haven’t learned anything!”

  “I know, but I want to leave before Kyle gets home.”

  He gestured toward the truck parked behind my car. “I think he’s already here.”

  Damn. I couldn’t be sure Kyle had driven the truck, but it hadn’t been there when we pulled up. I hesitated, the fluttery feeling in my stomach working overtime. Maybe I could still make an excuse and get away before I had to see him.

  Nancy was almost at the door.

  “Um, Mrs. Griffin? Nancy?”

  She turned, looked past me, and her face lit up. “Well, here’s Kyle!”

  Chapter 21

  I flinched but managed to pull a smile into place as I turned toward the sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel behind me. Kyle’s smile looked much more natural and honest than mine felt. “Hi, Audra.”

  “Hi.” My voice sounded a little hoarse. I cleared my throat. “You remember my brother, Ricky?”

  He nodded. “Nice to see you again.”

  Nothing to do now but go along with things. Pretend we were only there to see the birds, that’s all.

  I felt a pinch on my face and slapped at it. “Mosquitoes,” Kyle said. “There’s another.” He brushed his fingers down the side of my neck and it was all I could do to hold still. I hoped he couldn’t feel the flutter of nerves in my pulse. “We’d better get inside,” he added. “They don’t bother Gran or me much, but they seem to like you.”

  “That’s because she’s still a tasty young morsel,” Nancy said as she waved us inside. “I’m a tough old bird, and you’re a tough young one.”

  I paused in the cluttered living room. At least the dim lighting would hide my blush until I could find my balance. But Nancy went through a wide archway to the next room. I reluctantly followed into a big kitchen with marble countertops, gorgeous oak cabinetry, and a wonderful smell of baking. This seemed to be the heart of the home.

  Daniel Begay was putting cookies onto a pretty pottery plate. “Cookies! Fresh from the oven and still warm.”

  Kyle took the plate from him. “Gran, the best thing you ever did was bring this man home.”

  Nancy chuckled. “If not the best, certainly in the top three or four.”

  “I’m serious,” Kyle said. “If you two ever break up, I’m keeping him. You’re on your own.”

  She slid an arm around Daniel. “Guess I’d better stick with him. Audra, Ricky, have a seat. Iced tea okay?”

  Ricky said, “Yes, thank you.”

  I nodded and pulled out a chair, only to find it already occupied by a black and white cat. Kyle put the plate on the table and scooped up the cat, draping it over his shoulder where it settled in, purring loudly. “I hope you’re not allergic,” he said. “We have five of them.”

  I shook my head. Ricky asked, “Isn’t it bad to have cats and birds both?”

  Nancy put a pitcher of iced tea in the middle of the table. “The cats live in this house, the birds live in their own house, and the cage outside the mews ensures the cats mind their manners.”

  Daniel started filling glasses with iced tea. “Kyle, you share those cookies. I got another batch for you later.”

  “Well, all right then,” he grumbled theatrically. He pushed the plate closer to me.

  I picked up a pale rectangle with flecks in it. It smelled heavenly. I tried to identify the scent, which was familiar but unexpected.

  “Lavender shortbread,” Daniel said. So that’s why I couldn’t quite place it. I was used to lavender in lotions and potpourri, not food. I took a careful nibble. Daniel watched my face and smiled at my reaction. “Not bad, huh?”

  “Amazing.” Surprising and different and delightful, just like the people in this house.

  “Daniel can make anything,” Nancy said. “He built these cabinets.” She gestured towards the lovely oak woodwork and then touched the heavy turquoise and silver necklace hanging on her chest. “And this. The Gallery downtown carries his jewelry.” Her pride and affection shone through her words, and Daniel’s smile showed he felt the same way about her.

  No wonder Kyle chose to live here, rather than with his parents. I was glad to know he had a warm and loving home like this. These were wonderful people, all three of them.

  And I’d come here to pry into their personal business. The cookie melted in my mouth like butter and settled in my stomach like clay.

  Ricky glanced at me and then smiled at Nancy and Daniel. “It was a nice service yesterday.”

  Nancy, Daniel, and Kyle exchanged looks. Had the comment raised suspicions?

  Nancy smiled at Ricky. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

  Daniel said, “Funerals and memorials are for the living, anyway.”

  When Ricky frowned over that, Nancy explained. “Bethany wouldn’t have cared for that service.”

  “She would have hated it,” Kyle said. “She didn’t go to my dad’s church. Not for years. He used to drag her there—literally drag her out of bed kicking and screaming on Sunday mornings. She moved in with friends when she was sixteen and never went to church again.” He scowled at the cookie he was crumbling into little pieces. With his bad arm tucked under the table and a cat draped over his shoulder, he looked young and vulnerable. “Bethany and Dad didn’t get along.”

  “But he was her father.” The words came out before I considered whether I should say them. I gave an awkward little shrug as everyone looked at me. “Surely he loved her?”

  Kyle shook his head, his lips tight. Before he could speak, Nancy said, “Of course he did, in his way. And in his way, he’s hurting a lot.”

  “His way involves condemning her to hell,” Kyle muttered.

  Nancy sighed. “People use religion to try to understand loss. Usually they assume God has some greater plan they can’t understand but must accept, and the person is better off in Heaven.”

  “Dad doesn’t believe that. To him, she was a sinner.”

  “He’s still using religion to make sense of it all,” Nancy said. “If she brought her death on herself through her sins, then he doesn’t have to blame himself or God for something that hurts him so badly.”

  Kyle pushed away from the table and stood. The cat jumped to the chair and then to the floor. “In other words, he’s using religion so he doesn’t have to feel guilty for pushing her into being the kind of person she was.”

  “You could look at it that way,” Nancy said.

  Kyle started to gesture with his bad arm, but he glanced at me and shifted to hide the arm behind his back. Nancy seemed to notice, too. She reached out and took his forearm, drawing him closer. He looked down at her, and the love between them in that moment was so palpable I felt it in my chest.

  Nancy looked across at me as if judging my reacti
on or expecting something. But what?

  “Is he your son?” Ricky asked. “Bethany’s father?”

  I jolted. It was a logical question, but it was hard to imagine.

  “No,” Nancy said. “Bethany’s mother is my daughter.” That made more sense, but not much.

  She still had Kyle by the arm and was holding him close. “So you see, children always rebel against their parents. It’s the way of the world, to want to be something different. I thought I was such a wonderful mother, raising my daughter with so much freedom. But that made her responsible for her own choices, and that scared her, so she married a man who would tell her exactly what rules to follow.”

  She looked up at Kyle. The overhead kitchen light haloed his bowed head, hiding his expression. Nancy murmured, “Young people choose their own paths. Bethany would have found hers, given time.”

  I felt a poke in my hip and glanced over at Ricky. With his hand hidden from the others by the table, he motioned in a “keep going” way. Right, we weren’t just invading a family’s private moment simply by our presence. We were supposed to poke the open wounds.

  But it was for a good purpose. It was for Bethany, and they wanted justice for her, too. I took a sip of iced tea and searched for something to say that would be useful and not too offensive. Unless things had been so bad between Bethany and her father that he was somehow responsible for her death, I didn’t think we needed to pursue that line of questioning anymore. And even if things had been that bad, I wasn’t about to suggest that Kyle’s father could be a murderer, when Kyle was already so touchy about the man.

  But that got me thinking about the memorial, and the other odd thing that had happened. It wouldn’t be too out of line to mention it, would it? “I’m sorry Thomas Bain showed up yesterday. That was awkward.”

  Kyle ran his hand over his hair and took his seat again. “No kidding. I can’t believe he thought we would let him in. Bethany had a restraining order against him!”