by Kelly Wacker
“Eight thirty.”
“Oh! I’d better get dressed.” Melissa started to stand.
Sula looked surprised. “There’s no hurry. I asked for a late checkout. You can stay here until I get back. I mean, if you want to. Or you could do something. I should be back before noon.”
Melissa was confused. “Don’t you want me to drive you to the meeting?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t explain that part. I didn’t want to trouble you, so I reserved a driver for this morning, too. I just need to dress and get downstairs.”
A thought began to form in Melissa’s head. “What time is our delayed checkout?”
“No later than three o’clock.” Sula narrowed her eyes at Melissa. “Why do you ask?”
“You’ll just have to find out when you get back,” Melissa said with a mischievous grin and glanced at the clock again. “You’d better get dressed.”
Sula made an exasperated sound and dashed to the bedroom, the one they hadn’t occupied the previous night, where her overnight bag was located. Melissa helped Sula in an intense, but luckily short-lived, search for her phone. Standing by the door with her cell phone in hand, she looked flustered. She almost left without her messenger bag, but Melissa grabbed it, pushed it into her arms, and gave her a quick kiss good-bye. Sula just stood there like she was waiting for another kiss. With a laugh, Melissa told her to go.
Before closing the door, she hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle and took a shower. Afterward, she wrapped her wet hair in a towel and slipped back into the luxuriously soft hotel robe. She still had ample time before she expected Sula to return, and she certainly didn’t plan to go anywhere. She didn’t intend to dress either. Considering they could have a few more hours after Sula got back, she didn’t see any reason not to take full advantage of the room. She laughed to herself. Taking advantage of Sula was a more accurate description of her plans.
With some time to kill, she grabbed her cell phone and sat on the sofa. It was two hours later in Georgia, so it seemed a perfect time to call Beth.
“Are you okay?” Beth spoke in a serious voice, not even bothering to say hello.
“Yes, I’m fine…great, actually. Why are you worried?”
“Yesterday you texted me about being at a fancy hotel with the mountain woman of your dreams. I figure if you’re calling me this morning, it’s not good.”
“Oh, no.” Melissa laughed. “Quite the opposite.”
“Then why the hell are you calling me?” As often happened when Beth was excited or agitated, her Alabama accent became more pronounced, each syllable drawn out and clearly articulated.
“Sula’s at a meeting this morning, remember? It’s why she was planning to spend the night here in the first place.”
“Ah…so it’s going good?
“Beyond-my-wildest-dreams good.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously, Beth. I’ve never met anyone like Sula. Aside from the fact that she has paintings by Ursula Bergen in every room of her incredible house, she’s a really good person. I mean, she wants to make the world a better place—for bears and people, for all of nature, really. She knows such interesting things and has a natural curiosity, plus it’s so easy to talk with her. And she has this sexy confidence, but then sometimes she gets shy and…oh my God, that might be even sexier.” Melissa paused to take a breath. “Did I tell you she’s beautiful?”
“Girl, you’re gushing.”
“You have no idea, Beth.”
“TMI!” Beth exclaimed, and Melissa imagined her putting a hand up to stop her from going into the sticky details. But after a brief pause Beth spoke in a low, conspiratorial whisper. “So the sex is good?”
“Like I said, beyond-my-wildest-dreams good.”
Beth responded with a hoot of laughter. “About damn time. Oh, hey, I’m going to have to shift to a G-rated conversation in a second. I’m picking the kids up from the pool. A storm is coming in and it’s closing early.”
“No problem. You said to call when I came up for air, so I did.”
“I’m glad you did, honey. I’m so happy that…” Beth paused to say hello to the kids and tell them who was on the phone. Melissa heard excited voices in the background. “I’m so happy to hear that your research is going so well. Hey, I’m putting you on speakerphone. The kids want to say hi.”
Melissa asked Emma and her brother, Jonah, about their summer. In a verbal leapfrog they took turns telling her about their boating trips on the lake, soccer camp, and archery practice. Emma explained that she was taking very good care of Alex, her cat, as promised, and when Jonah said he wished summer would never end, it suddenly struck Melissa that her time in Colorado had its limits, too. She pushed the thought away.
Beth’s voice rose above the fray. “When does your research partner come back?”
“About an hour or so.” Melissa heard the crack and rumble of thunder through the phone.
“Good. All right, y’all. I’m going to have to end this conversation so I can drive safely. Melissa, I’m sure you have some things to do before you dive back into your research, and we’ve got to get home before the sky falls out. Let me know if you come across any earth-shattering discoveries.”
Melissa pressed her fingers against her lips, trying not to laugh out loud at Beth’s double entendres, and played along, promising to share the results of her research as they became available. After they said their good-byes, she stretched out on the couch to ponder exactly how she’d like to greet Sula when she returned.
Seated in the back seat of a sporty black Audi sedan, Sula texted Kimbrel Smith, the assistant regional director she’d be meeting with momentarily, to tell her she was running late. She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. Lingering over breakfast with Melissa had her in a mad scramble putting on her clothes and looking for her missing cell phone. She knew she had turned the ringer off last night, so Melissa’s offer to call her phone was no help. Fortunately, Melissa finally found it wedged between the sofa cushions. It must have fallen out of her back pocket when she was sitting on the edge of it last night. She had grabbed the phone and accepted Melissa’s quick kiss before dashing out of the hotel to find her car and the driver, a middle-aged man with short hair graying at the temples, waiting for her. The day was heating up, the glass, sandstone, and concrete all intensifying the sun’s effect.
Heading away from downtown, toward the suburb of Lakewood, she stared out the window from the cool back seat of the car, not really looking at the passing buildings. She was glad the driver didn’t seem interested in conversation, as the silence allowed her to savor memories of last night. Now that she had a moment to herself, she realized just how profoundly satisfying sex with Melissa was, and she wanted more. Just the thought of it sent a rippling tingle through her body that settled between her legs and made her breath catch in her throat. It wasn’t just sex: she wanted more time with Melissa. She simply liked being with her and marveled at the way their conversations ranged across a vast array of topics. Melissa was smart and knowledgeable, but she wasn’t stuffy or arrogant; she was fun and playful. Melissa stimulated her as much intellectually as physically. They were a good match. The thought reverberated in her mind. No lover had ever prompted these kinds of thoughts. This was a new experience.
Sula had dated while she was in college, but she’d never allowed herself to get too close to anyone and had developed a reputation for being cold or indifferent. The reality was far from the truth. She was just scared of revealing too much about herself. For as long as she could remember, her parents, grandparents, and older relatives had reminded her that revealing what she was to anyone who wasn’t family or a close friend of the family, which was code for someone trusted who knew, like Betty, was dangerous. It was easy enough to hide in plain sight. By the time she was twelve, she was in full control of her shifts, and being a wildlife-biology major in college, she could take off for a long day hike or for the weekend to wander the woods by herself when she needed the rel
ease and stimulation that being in fur provided. And no one thought it too unusual, except her girlfriends, who didn’t understand why they were never invited along. Inevitably, their feelings shifted from hurt to anger, and once that happened, as Sula had learned repeatedly, the relationship was short-lived.
After graduation, she kept her sexual encounters casual and always a safe distance from home. She had occasional opportunities when she traveled for fellowships and certifications after college, for the conservancy when she took a full-time position there, and during family gatherings in New York and Norway. It was easy enough to take advantage of a layover in a city, go to a club and get carried away by the energy of the music and dancing, to pretend for a night that she was the same as everyone else.
But Sula never felt good the morning after, and she engaged in her indulgences, as she thought of them, with increasingly less frequency than she had in her 20s. Even though she was honest about her intentions, or lack thereof, with her partners, she knew she was purposefully avoiding emotional intimacy with another woman and that she used momentary physical connections to relieve temporary aching needs. But she’d never met anyone like Melissa before now. Melissa with the sparkling green eyes and warm, golden hair, whom she had nicknamed Goldilocks and who, in turn, called her Bear. She absolutely loved hearing her say that, though she knew Melissa couldn’t really comprehend the truth of the nickname.
An idea struck her. She wanted to discount it, but she couldn’t. What if Melissa did know it somehow, unconsciously? And what would happen if that knowing rose to the level of consciousness? Sula could see only two possibilities: she’d either accept her for who she was or she’d run in terror. The thought of Melissa running from her broke her heart.
Her instinctual pull toward Melissa had initially terrified her, but being with her felt so natural, and now, the dreaded morning after, she felt surprisingly good. Her fears had dissipated, though anxiety born from not knowing what came next gnawed at her. Her mother had always told her that someday she’d meet someone who would be “the one,” explaining that she’d feel it in her bones. Sula had never understood what she meant until now.
She suddenly wanted to talk with her mother, but she and her father were on a research vessel somewhere off the coast of Svalbard. They had access to a satellite connection, but time on the boat was valuable, so their conversations were rationed and scheduled. She wasn’t due to talk with them for another week.
The driver cocked his head, the movement pulling Sula from her thoughts. She made eye contact with him by his reflection in the rearview mirror. He might have spoken, but she was so lost in thought, she wasn’t sure. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“Yes. We’ve arrived at your destination.” The driver appeared emotionless, which was hard not to perceive as irritation. She looked around, realizing that the car had stopped and they were in a parking lot. He turned and handed Sula a business card. “Text me at this number when you’re ready, and I’ll be here within five minutes.”
Sula thanked him and took the card. When she unclipped her seat belt, the driver did the same. “No need to open the door for me, thank you.” The driver seemed relieved, the first emotion he had shown since picking her up.
Clutching her messenger bag, Sula stood on the curb outside a nondescript five-story concrete cube of an office building, the tallest structure in an area surrounded by strip malls. It was about the least inspiring design she could imagine for an agency devoted to conservation of the natural world. She certainly didn’t know as much about architecture as Melissa, but she had learned a lot when she worked with the architects designing the conservancy visitors’ center. She had needed the architects to guide her, but she knew going into the project that she wanted a building that reflected the history of the region and evoked a feeling of looking forward toward the future. This building in front of her seemed to communicate bureaucracy. And now that she thought of it, that was probably completely appropriate.
Following the directions Kimbrel had sent, Sula walked through the amber glass double doors, down a long hall of panels with images of the National Wildlife Preserves in the eight states in the region the office served. As she pressed the elevator button, she forced herself to redirect her thoughts, mentally rehearsing her pitch. Otherwise it was so very easy to think of nothing else but Melissa’s tender skin and sweet lips.
Sula found Kimbrel’s office on the third floor and introduced herself to the woman seated at the desk in the reception area. The room was neat, but spartan, with sturdy wood furniture that looked like it had been in use for decades and decorated with striking photographs, iconic views of the landscapes found in the states the Mountain-Prairie Region office served—wide, grassy plains, mountains, and arid desert rock formations. Kimbrel walked in, large water bottle in hand, and introduced herself. Wearing a tan polo shirt embroidered with the USFWS logo and forest-green pants, she was a lithe, middle-aged woman with blond hair, streaked with white, and styled in a fashionable, short cut. She had a firm handshake and moved like someone who had been fit her entire life. She led Sula to a small conference room and regarded her with blunt directness, as if she were the only person in the room. But she wasn’t. Kimbrel had invited three others: a ruggedly handsome man in his forties, a biologist named Ben; a thirtysomething woman named Eva, a community project manager who was cute in a wholesome girl-next-door way; and Tyler, a bright-eyed grad-student intern.
Sula had thought she’d have to pitch her idea about expanding her program and knew hers wasn’t the only one out there, but she was certain it was supported with good data and hoped she could make it work in other places, as well. As it turned out, they were very enthusiastic about her ambition, especially as it aligned with their national initiative to increase community engagement. Kimbrel cut to the chase, and the meeting quickly turned into a brainstorming session. By the time it concluded forty-five minutes later, Sula had a list of names of people to contact in several states and a prioritized list of places that might be good places to start.
Before she left, Sula brought up a topic on a different subject, something that had been bothering her. She asked about Wildlife Services, and before she could finish her sentence, everyone at the table looked toward Kimbrel. Sula immediately realized she had touched a nerve.
Kimbrel frowned slightly and then smiled wincingly. “You know, Sula, that they aren’t within this agency. We’re part of the Department of the Interior, and they come under the Department of Agriculture. How should I put it? We’re by no means perfect, but we have very different missions. Ours is to conserve for now and the future, and theirs…well, they phrase their mission in carefully worded language, but let’s just say they tend to see nature as a competitor that they must control in order for humanity to survive.”
Kimbrel appeared to have no love for Wildlife Services, but sensing her reluctance to talk, Sula knew she had stepped into an uncomfortable, perhaps even controversial topic and felt the need to offer a reasonable explanation for her inquiry. “Well, I only ask because someone from Wildlife Services seems to be trapping for mountain lion in Buckhorn, and who knows what else in the area. I’m told that they prefer to fly under the radar, and I worry that their actions could adversely impact our bears. I’d hate to see an innocent bear get caught in one of those snare traps.”
“I understand your concern,” Kimbrel said flatly. “Bad things happen when there’s a lack of transparency.”
Sula looked at the others around the table. Ben seemed suddenly interested at his notepad, Tyler stared into her coffee cup, and Eva glared at Sula with barely masked anger but remained silent. Sula understood that one federal agent wouldn’t say anything critical about another agency, at least not in this room. She wasn’t exactly sure why she’d mentioned it in the first place, other than it was weighing on her mind. Maybe she thought any scrap of information she could glean might be useful.
Sula deftly shifted the conversation and graciously thanked th
em for their time, extending offers of hospitality should they ever find themselves in the vicinity of Buckhorn. They all commented on how beautiful the area was and that they had heard good things about the visitors’ center and would love to someday visit. The pall that her question about Wildlife Services seemed to have cast lifted, and she left the meeting feeling good.
She texted the driver before she got on the elevator and, when she stepped out on the ground floor, was surprised to be greeted by Eva, breathing heavily as if she had just run down the stairs.
“Hey,” Sula said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Eva said, putting a hand on her rib cage and taking a deep breath. “I need to get out of the office more and get some exercise.”
Sula laughed. “Were you looking for me?”
“Yeah, I just…um, I just wanted to tell you to be careful with Wildlife Services.”
Sula narrowed her eyes. “Careful in what way?”
The anger on Eva’s face that Sula had seen in the conference room returned. “They’re using M-44s.”
“Cyanide bombs?” Sula knew exactly what they were. Often called “coyote getters,” they were spring-loaded cyanide capsules staked into the ground and baited so that when an animal grabbed and pulled, they sprayed sodium cyanide crystals into its mouth. Mixed with saliva, the crystals produced a toxic gas that caused a horrific death akin to strangulation. “Those are supposed to be restricted on public lands in this state.”
“Yes, they are. They can be used on private lands only by request of the landowner, but I’ve been hearing that some of their agents are using them wherever they want to. They see it as a waste of good management tools not to use them. They don’t have much oversight in the field, so they do what they want.”
“Bastards.”
“I’d call them something else,” Eva said dryly. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that. Off the record, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I hope you’re not dealing with someone like that.”
