by R. T. Wolfe
Though he knew better, Andy meandered toward the bridge.
* * *
Rose rested her forearms on the railing. She could tell someone was walking in her direction and knew it was him. He left ample space between them. Mimicked her stance.
"You marrying Owen, the teacher?" He gestured toward the reception crowd up the hill.
She felt sure it was obvious she came down here to be alone. She lifted her left hand and stuck out her ring finger.
"Okay." He sighed loud enough for her to hear. "You sure he's your type?" He turned, facing her with one arm still resting on the railing.
Fumes filled every inch of her body so similar to what she'd felt at the Florida reserve. Damn it, why did she let him do this to her? She wasn't like this anymore, she reminded herself. Shifting, she looked him full in the face. "His name is Oliver and he's a professor and an intellect and has the same interests I do. We've created the educational portion of the action center together and, and it's none of your damned business who I'm marrying and who's my type and what the hell are you doing down here?" She panted with anger and heartache and... heat. Her eyes dipped to his lips for just a fraction of a second. She forced her eyes back to his, keeping purposely expressionless.
"Does he know you press your lips together like that..." Andy motioned toward her mouth. "...when you're... you know?"
She could feel the warmth grow in her cheeks, the veins bulging at her temples. "What gives you the right? Who the hell do you think you are?" Yelling now, she gesturing wildly.
Andy took a step close enough to her to smell peaches. He stared down into the light blue of her eyes. "Does he know you burn in five seconds in the sun?"
Waving her arms madly, Rose yelled at him, "What does that matter?"
He couldn't stop himself. Why couldn't he stop himself? "Does he know you turn your pillow over to the cooler side a dozen times through the night?"
Her brows pulled together. He realized if she let the tears escape now, she would never forgive herself.
"You don't know anything," she said sounding defeated.
"I know what you look like when you're in love, and you don't love him."
"You don't get to say that." Her shoulders dropped, suddenly exhausted. "You lost the right to say that when you told me you didn't want me. I didn't know what I was doing. I was young and stupid in love."
He put his face inches from hers and lowered his voice. "You weren't the only one that didn't know what you were doing. Or young. Or stupid in love."
She lifted her beautiful eyes to him. They stood speaking without talking. And it wasn't good. She was angry, so angry. And... sad? Solemnly, she strolled around him and back to her sister's wedding reception. He watched her maneuver her strappy heels through the grass, then purposefully sat next to her fiancé, putting a hand through his arm.
* * *
After an extended morning of inspections and on-site meetings, Andy pulled into his parking lot. Sitting in the small area, he sipped a cup of cold Starbucks and frowned at his office manager's Prius. Working late again.
Taking a minute to catch his breath from the rapid-fire meetings, he looked at the etched sign mortared in the brick. Reed Builders. He personally oversaw each step of the construction of the building from excavation to trim. He thought the look was pretty damned perfect—clay-red brick with the occasional darker bricks to break up the color. It carried a look of professional quality without being over the top. Stones were soldiered, protruding around windows and the front door frame. The landscaping was simple, direct and done by his aunt and Amanda, of course. So, why was it so difficult to give a damn?
The sun blazed hot into the late June afternoon. He barely made it in the front door before Delores carefully began running over the day's messages, mail and tomorrow's appointments.
He put his hand over the planner she recited from. Waiting until she looked up over the rim of her reading glasses, he asked, "How was your day?"
She stopped and folded her hands. Lines pulled away from her eyes as she smiled at him. "Why it was fine, Andy. I'd ask how yours was, but I have a feeling it's not nearly over."
Nodding in consent, he took the stack of papers and winked at her before heading into his office. "Go home."
Finishing his review of appointments for the following day and his calendar for the next week, then month, he turned to the waiting stack of paperwork. Piles of blueprints for sites from a business strip mall and golfing range that he bought on the north side of Northridge waited as well as ones to the individual lots in a country club south of Rochester.
Flicking on the news, he picked up his coffee and scowled into the empty cup. He went to make a fresh pot and saw Rose on the screen. Turning up the volume, he measured and poured fresh grounds. He couldn't think of a single woman more beautiful. Rose in her familiar red bandana, work boots and blue jeans that hugged her long legs.
"Speaking with me today is Dr. Rosemarie Piper. Perched on her arm here is Gracie, an adolescent bald eagle who needs our help. Dr. Piper, tell us about Gracie." The reporter held her head away from the giant bird. It steadied itself often on Rose's gloved arm by pulling out its wings.
"Huh," Andy said aloud. The reporter was scared shitless. He assumed adolescent would mean small and that bald eagle meant white head and tail. This bird had neither.
Rose was in her comfortable groove, he could tell. "Gracie is the third of a clutch of three eaglets hatched in late April of this year. She came down with a case of avian pox that formed on the side of her beak right here." She pointed to the spot on the dark brown beak.
"A growth formed, causing her beak to curve, leaving her unable to feed. We had to, therefore, remove her from the nest, raise her in captivity, hand feed her, and regularly shave the pox. She's healthy now and the pox has cleared up other than the scar left on her beak."
He leaned back against his desk. Smooth, he thought. Professional.
"Unfortunately, Gracie was removed from her nest when she was very young, and we're not sure she'd recognize others of her species or whether or not she knows she's even a bird. Therefore, we'll work to train her as an education eagle."
Rose waved her free arm toward the small enclosure behind her. "As you can see, the enclosure we have at the center is small and was built, primarily, for flightless birds and minimal recuperation of the injured. We need a much larger and extensive area for Gracie to live her life with the freedom of active flight. The funding and manpower alone will cost tens of thousands. We're turning to the public for their help in making this possible."
He clicked off the TV and walked around to sit in his chair. As the smell of coffee filled his office, he thought of Florida. A half-dozen buyers had already committed and put down large down payments for the lots around the crane reserve. What a damned relief that was. He'd put up half his business for collateral to cover the loan on the deal. He knew he would get his money back. Maybe when the economy picked up again. He had no idea he would get it back so soon. Who would've thought tree huggers would be interested enough in some birds that they would fork up that much? Some of the buyers purchased their lots with no plans to build.
But that wasn't it, he thought, as he propped his feet up. The feeling left in his gut at helping out the damned cranes actually felt good. Very good. So good, in fact, he decided to repeat the gesture.
Known as a solid building company, Reed Builders' customers appreciated his thorough manner. His crews respected his knowledge, his personal attention to each project and his follow-up. As he gathered his piles and turned off the office lights, he considered adding "volunteer" to his description, then decided to go incognito.
"You're not supposed to be here. Go home, beautiful. I'm heading out to inspect the work the new excavators did on the country club lots and make a pit stop near Seneca Lake. I've got a stack of snail mail to be sent, and some priority blueprints to be scanned and entered into the data files. All this can be done... In. The. Morning."
He set the stacks on the edge of her desk. "Is there anything I can get for you?"
"I can't work as your office manager if you don't keep me updated on your projects, Andrew Reed. Even the potential ones. What's at Seneca Lake?"
He scratched the side of his face. "A gorgeous redhead." Damn it, when did he shave last?
* * *
Rose stood around the side of the action center, where mostly storage buildings and sheds clustered. The air was clean and a brisk wind blew scents of pine needles and earth over her. She worked, stacking spare equipment out of sight along the sides of one of the sheds. The blogs still needed to be checked before she went home—Chesapeake Bay Reserve and North Carolina Action Center. The Florida reserve blog made mention of the hero, Andrew Reed, and how many lots had already been sold to single families who were digging ground far from the reserve side of their property. Knight in shining armor? Damn it.
As she worked, she quickly changed her train of thought, refusing to allow him into her head. She was smart, she was careful and she would stay away from the images of the way he looked at her at Jessica's wedding—the sexy faint lines that were beginning to spread from the corners of his eyes when he smiled his million-dollar smile; the familiar scent of him when he invaded her space on the Black Creek bridge; and the look of his mouth. Exasperated, she leaned against the nearby shed and looked around.
There would be room there for the ornery eagle to roam. She'd named her Gracie, much better than Wart. It was fitting. She had ideas for making the space more aesthetic for visitors and donors. She looked over at Gracie, who was tethered to her post and stabbing at the ratscicle she had given her. "Sorry, girl. We'll get you off that leash soon enough."
Grace walked up beside her, looking at the eagle, then at Rose. "Why did you name her Gracie? It confuses the hell out of everyone."
Rose grinned at the feisty bird. She knew if she came anywhere near her, Gracie would defend her rat dinner. "Because she's spirited and noisy and impatient."
"Damn straight. I'm taking off for the day."
Rose stacked spare equipment onto her four-wheeler. "Isn't tonight the big date with Mr. No Eye Contact?" She didn't look to her friend and colleague but knew the smirk she would have on her face.
"Oh, yes. Cute. As. Can. Be. See you bright and early." She turned and started walking back to the main building before yelling out over her shoulder, "Oh, yeah, and there's a donor in the lobby. Wants to donate the money for Gracie's aviary and build it himself."
"What the hell?" she said aloud, jumping to her feet. "How long has he been waiting?" She was a mess. Oh, well. She could use that as a pitch.
Quickly, she rushed to ride the loaded four-wheeler to a spot and park it for the night. Walking to the main building, she entered through the back. Quickly washing her hands, she dried them on her jeans as she entered the lobby area.
She dropped against the jamb of the doorway as soon as she spotted him. "What are you doing here?"
Chapter 17
"I saw your broadcast."
Andy watched as Rose rubbed clean hands over her dirty face. "What are you really here for?"
"Okay. I deserve that." He got up from a row of rustic chairs and walked toward her. "I guess it's my turn to apologize. You were right. Become Dr. Owen Witherspoon. I have no right to judge any decision you make. It's none of my business."
"It's Oliver and I will never understand why women feel the need to change their names."
"Right." He looked around at what she had helped build. "It's nice here. I've really, honestly just come to build an enclosure for a bird... eagle. Gracie, you called it? Isn't that the name of your assistant?"
"Grace." Rose sighed. "Put the animal first," she mumbled. "My assistant's name is Grace. The bald eagle is Gracie."
"Okay," he said slowly. "But that's just going to confuse the hell out of everyone."
Her eyes closed, and slowly shaking her head, she stood to the side of the doorway, motioning for him to pass. "Come on. I'll show you the spot."
They walked in silence through a large hall that housed smaller animals along the perimeter. He spotted a few opossums and at least one raccoon. Each enclosure led to a habitat area on the outside of the building. He thought the layout was genius. Efficient.
Electricity radiated overtly between the two of them, but he had no idea if it was positive or negative. So, he worked to ignore it.
"I've decided not to marry Oliver."
He paused only for a second before responding. "I'm... sorry to hear that."
"No, you're not, but you were right. Love's not everything, but I suppose you should have it before you marry someone."
"Stated as artfully as Hallmark." Fighting the urge to fist bump the air, he kept pace with her and, instead, chided, "Or, how about this one? Another fiancé bites the dust."
The muscles in her jaws flexed and she picked up her pace, walking with quick Rose-like steps.
The back was a myriad of organized sheds lining an open space clearly meant for presentations and workshops. Very efficient, he thought. It wasn't until they walked around the side of the building that he saw the bird.
Damn, it was big. Amazing. Giant talons on the ends of thick legs, their brown color matching its beak. Predatory eyes stared him down, head on. He felt instant respect, followed by sympathy at the sight of the size of the small enclosure. Yes, he thought. Rose or no Rose, he had a great desire to give this animal what freedom he could.
Waving her arms toward a line of trees some hundred yards away, Rose explained her ideas.
* * *
"How long have you been here?" Delores walked in Andy's office as he sat at his desk. Her keys were still in her hand. He watched suspiciously as she made her way to the coffeemaker. She let the keys slip into her purse, then placed her palm on the glass carafe. "If you keep going like this, you'll start making mistakes."
He kept working, but responded, "Thank you, but it's only temporary."
Delores brewed a fresh pot as he went through plans, outlines and contracts. He made neat piles of work for her to do for when he headed out to meet customers and check on crews. He planned on still having enough time to put in some hours at the action center enclosure.
They both looked up when they heard the outside door.
He hadn't realized his face was tight until he felt it relax. "Ma."
Brie carried a small basket covered with a red and white checked towel. The size of the lumps underneath it told him muffins. He got up to greet her, then stopped at the frown on her face.
Delores walked to stand with her shoulder to shoulder. His assistant crossed her arms before commenting, "I know, Brianna. I keep telling him. He looks just awful, doesn't he? Maybe you can talk some sense into him."
He hated when his aunt did that thing where he felt like she was looking right through him. Defensively, he spoke first, "I've just got a project. It'll be done within a month. I want to get it off my plate." He walked over, trying for casual and lifted the corner of the towel.
Brie smacked his hand and pulled the basket away. "I'm going to need a little more than that."
Sighing, he explained, "It's an enclosure for a diseased, well formerly diseased, eagle. She's incredible. Rose has her taking food from her hand, but she won't let anyone else near her. Scratch your eyes out if you give her the chance."
Brie's brows came together, then lifted as the muscles in her face softened.
"The senior biologists want to keep her as an education bird. Something about being in captivity while she healed from the disease and missing the period when she would learn to recognize other eagles or know that she is one of them."
Fisting a set of knuckles beneath her chin, Brie smiled.
"I think it's bullshit—"
"Language," Brie reminded him.
"Sorry."
"Go on."
"They should let her go." He carried on as he went back and closed some files on the corner of his desk. "Let her ta
ke the risk and see if she can do what she was meant to do."
"Hmm," Brie mumbled. "Déjà vu."
"The girl needs a place to fly. They've got her cooped up in a ridiculous enclosure. It's awful." He put his keys in his pocket and looked up, stopping at the sight of Brie and Delores. "What?" he asked at their red-eyed expressions.
Brie smiled. "You have time for a cup of coffee and a muffin before you go to the center. You could call Duncan and have him go with you. His plane landed earlier today."
He hit his head with the palm of his hand. "Fourth of July. Right."
"You will make it to the Fourth," Brie said as a statement.
Yes, she was looking right through him. "Right. Right, of course. I might have to make the tail end, but I'll be there." He picked up a muffin.
* * *
Since Rose rarely carried a purse, she walked into the bar with her money in one back pocket, her ID in the other, her smart phone in a front pocket, and the Swiss Army knife she held as dear to her as any woman might a tube of lipstick in the other. She saw Duncan right away. His dark brown hair that waved to just over his shoulders was easy to spot, even from the back. She nodded to the bartender before kissing him on the cheek, then slid in the booth opposite him.
Pinned to the dark paneled wall were yellowing newspaper articles from years past, featuring Northridge's favorite pub and burger joint, Mikey's. She learned never to be surprised at how the place always felt the same. After months since her last visit, she still recognized old friends and the smell of a great grill.
She had forgotten, however, how much Duncan and Andy looked alike and seemed to be more so as they grew older. They were very different, though. Predictably, Duncan had on black Armani jeans and a charcoal-gray, button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to three-quarter length. "Hello, Duncan. Welcome back. Here for the Fourth?"
He lifted his chin once in agreement. "And to look at some land. I've decided it's probably time for me to own some."
She jutted her head back. "You don't own a place? No condo anywhere? Apartment? What about Sophia whoever?"
