“Is that why you called it base camp?” she asked, taking it all in as they made their way through the treetops toward the biggest circular hut in the center of three others.
“What? Oh,” he said, surprised by the question. “I guess so. What else would you call it?”
She turned to look at him. “Home?”
“Well. Sure,” he said, completely disconcerted now. “It’s that, too, of course.”
“Of course,” she murmured, and edged past him to open the door of the largest of the four med unit huts as they stepped up on the last landing, which was built of solid, stable board planking, as was the base of the hut, both attached directly to and around the tree itself.
He stepped inside behind her, intending to ask why it mattered what he called the place, but she’d already taken a quick look around the small structure and turned back to him, that amazed expression on her face again. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but something a lot less state of the art than this.”
He glanced around at what looked a lot like a vet’s examining room, with a steel table in the center, kennels of varying sizes lining one wall. There was an industrial sink, next to a counter with cabinets above and below it. All were glass fronted and well stocked with a variety of necessary first aid and other supplies. There were even a few pieces of equipment to provide rudimentary assistance—microscopes, stethoscopes, beakers, and Bunsen burners.
“We’ve been fortunate enough to be awarded several really useful grants over the past handful of years,” he said, carefully setting the gear back inside the door and closing it behind him. “And technology has come a long way in enabling remote-outpost setups like this.”
“It’s impressive, truly.” She looked at him, smiling. “I’m glad the foundation is getting the support it needs.” Her gaze dropped to the bundle on his chest. “So, what do we do with her next?”
“Take a look at her foot, do what we can there, offer food, hydration, then set her up for the night.”
Delia glanced at the wall section of little kennels. “In one of those?”
She looked like he’d said they were going to tie the chick to a stake in the yard. “Yes,” he said, trying not to smile. “There will be appropriate lighting and the place is heated. She’ll do okay.”
“They just look so . . . sterile,” she said of the stainless-steel enclosures.
“That’s because they are. Keeps that whole germ thing down to a minimum.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “It just seems, I don’t know, cold, after the little burrow she had.”
“Well, if you want to go down and get rocks and twigs and dirt and make her a little home for the night, be my guest. But her foot would do better in a more sterile environment. She’ll have bedding.”
“I know you think I’m being ridiculous.”
“No,” he said, his smile gentling. “I think you’re just being a concerned intern.”
She gave him a little smirk at that, but her heart was in her eyes as she looked at the chick nestled in the pouch.
He got a clean towel from one of the cabinets and demonstrated to her how to best hold the chick so he could have the freedom to examine her feet and claws. “I’ll wrap a towel around her body to hold her wings down and tucked in. Then you gently grip her this way.” He showed her by modeling with the towel and his hands in the air. “So the beak isn’t where she can snap at anything, but she can’t flap and get away. Just make sure to keep your face back from her face.”
Delia smiled, nodded, but he could see she was nervous again.
“The hard part is over, you know,” he said.
“I know,” she said, shaking her arms and rolling her shoulders. “I’ll just be happier when she’s all cared for and tucked in for the night.”
“Me, too,” he admitted. “Okay, let’s do this.” He carefully unwrapped the papoose from his body, and then set the entire thing on the stainless-steel table. There was a little rustling as the baby chick woke up.
“Poor thing, she was enjoying her little hammock time,” Delia said as Ford lifted the folds of fabric away from the now disgruntled-looking chick. “Aww, look at you. You don’t know where you are, do you?” Delia cooed. “Well, Dr. Rambo here is going to get you all fixed up, don’t you worry.”
“I thought I was Dolittle,” he muttered as he laid the last fold of the fabric flat on the table, leaving the baby sitting in the middle of it.
“That was before I grabbed those biceps,” she shot back with a grin. “Besides, the only one talking to the animals around here seems to be me.”
“You talk, I’ll doctor.”
“She’s sitting on her feet, how are we going to—”
“Just like I showed you.”
Delia pulled a sad face and looked at the chick. “But look, she’s sitting there all tucked up, getting her bearings.”
“Yes, which is why we need to do our job before she does. We’ll be done before she figures out how to thwart our efforts.” He handed her the towel.
“Well, at least it’s soft,” Delia said, folding it the way he’d showed her. The baby chick took that opportunity to let out a little grumbly squawk. Delia laughed. “I couldn’t agree more, sweetie.” She stepped around to the other side of the table. “Okay,” she said, taking in a breath. “Here we go.”
As it had been out on the rocks, her anxiety proved to be unnecessary. She might be an outdoors and wildlife novice, but she was a smart, sharp, competent woman, and that strength served her just as well during the bird examination as it did in running a diner.
Ford did his examination and could all but hear the sound of Delia’s racing heartbeat filling the room. He’d barely let the bird’s foot go and motioned Delia to set her back down on the table again when the questions started.
“So? How is she? Is the foot okay? I mean, she won’t lose any of it or anything awful like that, right? Because I know there was a Disney movie where they made that dolphin a fake tail, but that’s not the Disney movie I had in mind when—” She broke off and snapped her mouth shut when he simply lifted his gaze and stared at her.
“I babble when I’m nervous.” She lifted a finger. “Don’t say it. And no cracks about knowing the Disney movies. They help me unwind.”
Ford held her defiant gaze for another long moment, and then smiled as he looked back down at the chick. Just the damnedest woman. “Well, it looks like she’s torn up this foot pretty well, and the claw is broken off. We’ll need to file it smooth, clean up the damage to the foot, give her some antibiotic. Then it’s bed rest. I’ll put some food in with her.”
“And then?”
“And then we wait to make sure there’s no infection in the foot before she goes and plunges it into ocean water for the next three years. Make sure she can walk on it. The fact that she’s settled down on it and doesn’t seem to be favoring it is good, but she could just be in shock. So, we’ll keep a close eye.” Before she could ask what he knew was her next question, he said, “Yes, there is a cam in here, so yes, you can sit up and watch her all night if you want.”
“Okay,” Delia said, looking too relieved to give him an aggrieved look. “That’s good. Really good.” She looked at the chick and he could see she wanted to reach out and pet it by the way she curled her fingers inward against the temptation.
“Once I get her fixed up, you can get her settled if you want.” He explained what the puffling would need in the kennel. “If you want to get that done, I’ll work on her.”
“Don’t you need me to hold her?”
He nodded to the chick, who was already dozing again. “I don’t think so. She’s wiped out. I’ll clean the open wounds and get the gunk out of the end of her claw, but we’ll leave filing it down till tomorrow.”
“Gunk,” Delia said, her smile returning. “Medical term?”
“Yes,” he said, in an overly serious tone. “Only those of us with doctorates are allowed to use it.”
Delia bowed in
mock deference but her grin when she looked back up had her eyes twinkling. “I will see to setting up the queen’s quarters, then.”
He smiled and shook his head as he went about collecting the things he’d need to see to the bird’s wounds. They did make a good team. And not just in the ways of emergency wildlife rehab.
It took another half hour, and Delia did have to hold the chick for some of the treatment, but all in all, it went as well as he could have expected. Once they got the puffling settled into the kennel, she tucked up immediately and went to sleep.
“She didn’t even look at the herring,” Delia said, concerned.
“Rest is more important,” Ford said, removing the fish. “We’ll try again tomorrow, but for now, this is what she needs most.”
He moved away to take care of the fish, but Delia remained looking into the kennel, which was chest height. “She’s going to be okay,” Delia said, but it was more an affirmation to herself than a question to him.
He came to stand beside her again. “Thank you. Again. For coming out. I don’t think she’d have made it if you hadn’t. I couldn’t have gotten her out of there. Not without destroying the burrow.”
Delia leaned against his arm, just a little. “We did a good thing.”
“Yes,” he said, curling his fingers inward now, not trusting himself to touch her. “Yes, we did.” His resistance, what little he had left, was crumbling. The first rumble of thunder overhead had him stepping away. “We should get over to the main building before the skies open up. I need to make some notes, make sure the cam is up and working.”
“I can put together something to eat while you do the paperwork.”
“I thought you jumped in my truck to get away from having to feed people for a bit.”
She looked up at him. “I’m still not exactly sure why I jumped in your truck.” She smiled. “But I’m glad I did.”
Jesus, he was doomed. How on earth he was going to get a wink of sleep that night, he had no idea. And it wasn’t going to be from worrying about a baby puffin. It’s going to be figuring out how in the hell you’re going to keep your hands off your temporary intern.
More to save himself than to give the recuperating chick some peace and quiet, he stepped over to the hut door and opened it so Delia could precede him back out onto the deck. He noticed her looking around with avid curiosity. He glanced up at the sky through the treetops. Not as ominous as he’d thought. “You probably have a good ten or fifteen minutes. I can figure out the food situation and make notes if you want to go take a quick look around. None of the huts are locked.” He nodded towards the network of bridges, ramps, and the treetop buildings they led to.
Her face immediately lit up in pure delight, but then she said, “No, I’m the one who barged in. The least I can do is feed us while you do your highly educated, advance degreed scientist . . . stuff.” She gave him a sidelong glance as she stepped onto the first rope bridge that led diagonally across, directly to the main hut. “That is the technical term, right?”
“Yes. I won’t tell anyone you used it.”
She laughed and he watched as she walked in front of him, his attention not on her body, but on the way she swiveled her attention left and right, then left again, taking in his setup, obviously charmed by the whole thing.
It wasn’t his first time seeing that reaction. Many of his interns and volunteers—most of them, actually—went through pretty much the same thing. Though many of the guys pretended to be way cooler about it than they actually were. He smiled at the memories, all of them good ones, of the people, most of them a great deal younger than he, who had come out over the years to learn from him, from the island, from life, much as he had with Dr. Pelletier. On the one hand, that made him feel old, but then he looked at Delia, and he felt like that twenty-three-year-old soldier coming to the Cove for the first time, and falling under the spell of a redheaded angel.
It was his first time having someone here who wasn’t an intern, or visiting professor, or from this funding organization or that grant committee. He supposed what he was really thinking was that this was the first time he’d brought a woman here. But Delia wasn’t just some woman.
No, he thought a bit more shakily than he’d have liked, she’s definitely not that.
Chapter 14
“I feel like I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole,” Delia said upon entering Ford’s sanctuary. “If a person can fall up into a tree, that is.” She took a slow turn. He’d called it base camp, and she supposed that wasn’t far from the mark. It was basic, utilitarian, and uncluttered with the sorts of personal items or décor bits and pieces that put a character stamp on a place. But the richness of the open beam construction, and the tree trunks forming the corners, the inviting heat of the potbelly stove planted in the middle of it, the overstuffed cushions on the couch—she didn’t even want to know how he’d gotten that up there—and the old quilt thrown across the back combined to create a warmth, a coziness, that pulled her in.
The octagonal shape of the place made her feel that she was being hugged inside its warmth. The stack of books on the floor next to the couch looked quite serious and stuffy in nature, as did the stack of magazines they sat on. There were a multitude of binders and spiral-bound notebooks stuffed on a small set of handmade shelves that backed the couch. I’m not the only one who lives her job, she thought. On the antique banded barrel he used as an end table, there was a lamp and what looked like a few dog-eared detective novels. She smiled. All in all, he’d put his stamp on the place anyway, whether he realized it or not.
She looked back to find him hovering at the base of the ladder that led up to a loft space above, watching her. She could still see him with that brightly patterned pouch slung across his chest, the injured chick nestled inside, and her heart bumped hard against the inside of her chest. She thought about the family she’d created for herself among the folks of Blueberry Cove, and realized Ford had done the same out here with the seabirds and the seals. Whether he fully understood that or not, she didn’t know, but seeing firsthand how truly connected he’d become to his new path, how sincerely passionate he was about the work he was doing, made her feel good . . . and less regretful about the time they’d spent apart.
Delia wondered, now that Grace was in his life again, and he’d spent some time back in the Cove, if they’d keep their renewed friendship active. And, if so, how I’m going to keep it just as a friendship. It was hard not to want more, but what more could they really have? And was it worth jeopardizing the renewed bond they did share?
She glanced at his face and was surprised to find him looking a bit uncomfortable, then realized she hadn’t said anything. “This place is amazing,” she reassured him, then grinned. “Walt Disney himself would be proud. I can’t believe you not only dreamed it up, but made it happen.”
“I can’t take that much credit,” he said. “You’d be surprised how much literature there is out there on this kind of thing. I just took the bits and pieces that worked for me. It’s basically cobbled together from other people’s ideas. With space at a premium, functionality was key, so I decided not to reinvent the wheel but go with what worked for others.”
He spoke comfortably about the place, almost offhandedly, so being worried about her impression of it wasn’t what had made him uncomfortable. “If you need to go up and write your notes while today’s adventure is fresh in your mind, or set up the cam for baby puff, don’t let me keep you,” she said. She glanced in the other direction, at the kitchen area that took up most of the other side of the main floor. “I really don’t mind cooking dinner. In fact, I’d enjoy it. It’ll be nice just to cook for two for a change. Especially since one of them is me.” She smiled back at him, but he still looked a bit out of step or something. “Is everything okay?” Another thought occurred to her and her smile faded. “Is there something wrong that you’re not telling me about the baby, because—”
“No, the chick is fine. Will be fine. I’ll just—�
� He put one foot up on the ladder. “If you really don’t mind putting something together, that would be great. Don’t go to any trouble. I think there’s lunch meat in there, so sandwiches—”
“Ford,” she said, “it’s all good. Go.”
He held her gaze another moment, then climbed the ladder. She watched him go up, took a moment to shamelessly admire his very fine backside once again, then, with a sigh, turned back to the kitchen area. Maybe he was just uncomfortable having someone in his private space. Although she had a hard time believing that since he’d made it sound like the place was overrun with interns and volunteers at all hours every summer. She glanced back up at the loft when a light flicked on, and thought, Or maybe it’s because the someone in his private space is me.
Maybe he was worried about where to put her up for the night. Her body leapt to attention with its own solution to that, but she ignored it. Or tried to. She’d just ask him where the interns stayed and bunk there. Or she’d take the couch. It looked quite comfy, actually, right there in front of the potbelly stove. It all felt very wee-cabin-in-the-woods cozy. Just up a few dozen feet in the air.
Then another thought occurred to her. Where did he sleep? Certainly not the couch. There was only one part of the main floor that appeared to be boxed out, and had a door leading to it, but it was small, so she assumed bathroom. Yet another marvel of treetop living she didn’t want to know the physics of, if that was indeed the case. So . . . where do you sleep? She glanced over at the ladder, then up to the loft ledge, but that wasn’t a broad enough floor area. If he had any kind of office set up there, there would be nowhere to sleep, too. Then she turned and looked farther up, on the other side. She’d thought the flat top was the ceiling of the space. There was a hole in the middle where the long pipe stem from the potbelly stove went up and out. Only now she recalled, from the outside, the top was domed, up to a point at the peak of the roof, so . . . She stepped around the stove, over to the ladder, and looked up the other way, across from the loft. From where she stood, she realized that there was another ladder from his loft that led up to what she’d thought was the ceiling, but was in fact another platform. The ladder in this case ran up through an opening in the platform, meaning the entire upper section of the domed building was on yet another floor.
Sandpiper Island (The Bachelors Page 20
