by Annie Jones
“Let’s wait until he finishes the tour. I’d like to get a good look around and don’t want to risk upsetting him, since the birds seem to be missing primarily in this area,” Kate said.
She peered back into the barn, trying to figure out this crusty man who didn’t seem to seek out human contact but took extra care to make sure his newest patient, the vulture, had everything it needed.
“Good thinking. Besides, if he volunteers some information, it could better validate my data.” Bonnie took a few steps into the midday sun, then turned to watch him alongside Kate.
Next Artie took them to the supply barn, explaining that he liked people to see what it took to care for the birds. He also stored birdhouses and feeders in there so that visitors could see what he recommended they put up around their own homes.
“You certainly know what it takes to attract indigenous birds, Mr. Best,” Bonnie said as she examined the various styles of birdhouses.
“I didn’t say nothin’ about attractin’ nothin’,” he answered hastily. “I just try to educate folks on what kind of habitat they should try to maintain around their homes.”
“Is that why you have all this birdseed?” Kate pointed to several large pallets of seed stacked shoulder high all along the inside wall of the barn.
“I stockpile against a harsh winter.” He quickly flipped a burlap covering over the stack.
The birdseed was clearly more than just a stockpile if just referring to it put his guard up like that, almost as if to protect it from outsiders. Kate kept her eyes fixed on the man’s face.
“I was just reading about Joanie’s Ark,” she said, “and all the seed they sell in the fall to raise money. I guess I thought you might be storing it for them.”
“I ain’t affiliated with that place,” he snapped. He faced the stacks of seed for a moment, then turned suddenly and started toward the barn door. “That’s all there is to see. Let’s keep movin’.”
His reaction troubled Kate, but she couldn’t imagine why anyone would be defensive over bags of birdseed.
Bonnie gave her a furtive glance that showed she felt the same way. They moved outdoors, through what was essentially the back door of the barn, and had to shade their eyes from the bright sun. Bonnie lowered her head to say to Kate softly, “I’m having second thoughts about asking this man about the lack of birds around here. What do you think?”
Kate looked back at Artie. She wasn’t sure what to think.
He closed the barn door, wiggled the handle to make sure it caught, started to walk away, then paused and gave Bonnie and Kate a hard look. Suddenly he turned again, pulled something shiny from his pocket, and then began fidgeting with the latch.
Kate couldn’t help trying to figure out what he was up to—he was acting so suspicious. Before she could get a clear view, though, the sharp slam of a car door coming from around the other side of the barn, near the gate, startled her. Bonnie jumped and grabbed Kate’s arm at the unexpected sound.
Artie marched by, his lower lip pushed out as he muttered, “Maybe now you’ll have a whole new ’preciation of why I had to tack up that ‘call before comin’ by’ sign, Mrs. Hanlon.”
Chapter Eight
Artie stormed off toward his house, with Bonnie close behind him.
Kate took a moment to steal a peek behind her. She could see that a heavy lock had been secured on the supply barn. Obviously that hadn’t been there before, or they couldn’t have opened the door, much less gone out of it. So why did Artie snap the lock on now? Was that a normal thing for him to do? Had he locked it because she had made a comment about all that seed?
Many questions troubled her as she hurried to catch up with Bonnie, following in Artie’s surprisingly brisk wake.
After walking around from the back door of the barn, they reached the drive and saw a large white van parked parallel with the front porch. It sat in what had once been a horseshoe-shaped drive but was now not much more than the suggestion of a drive with grass growing up between two gravel tracts. That seemed to Kate like an odd place to park. She couldn’t decide if it was a means of staking a claim—we belong here—or was simply a nice thing to do to keep from blocking Bonnie’s car from backing out.
Artie slowed as he approached the van. He seemed to relax a little. His irritation eased.
“Y’all didn’t say you were comin’ out again today. At least I don’t have it written down in my record book,” he said, sounding almost welcoming as he put his hand on the side mirror and peered in at the front seat. He scowled, then looked at Bonnie and Kate. “That’s funny. Ain’t nobody in there.”
Before Kate could ask if he knew who the van belonged to, the front door of Artie’s home creaked loudly and swung open.
“I’ll look around outside. If he’s not close by, we might—” The petite, dark-haired woman from the Country Diner stopped with her hand on the open door. She looked at Kate and Bonnie first, then at Artie. That’s when she broke into a wide smile. “Oh! There you are!”
“I was givin’ a tour of the barns.” He let his hand glide slowly down the length of the van’s large side mirror. His eyes, narrowed to not much more than slits, darted to the woman, then to the door she had just come out of, then to the van, then to his home again.
“We drove up, found the gate open, and honked. When you didn’t come out of the house, we decided to go in and see if everything was all right.” She came up to him and placed one hand on his back and hooked the other in the crook of his arm.
He seemed a bit surprised by the move but not upset.
Kate watched the unfolding scene with interest. The woman had on the kind of pants that used to be worn by carpenters and painters, with deep pockets and a loop on the side for a tool. Her loose shirt, worn over what looked like a long-sleeved thermal top, had a tropical print. She had her hair pulled back with a band, and peacock-feather earrings swayed gently as she turned to Bonnie and Kate.
“You ladies part of a larger group? Artie does love to show visitors around and talk birds with them.”
Kate puzzled a moment over the woman’s words, said in such a way that practically staked a claim on the man at her side—as though she belonged in this place, and Bonnie and Kate were just interlopers.
“No, not a group. Just a couple of curious bird-watchers.”
Something about the woman’s sudden appearance in the driveway and the fact that she’d gone into Artie’s home uninvited didn’t sit well with Kate.
Artie seemed to realize this was his cue to step in. “Uh, oh yeah. Where’s my manners? This here is Charlene Howell. Charlene, this is one of the local preachers’ wives and her friend.”
“Nice to meet you.” Charlene held out her hand to Bonnie first and greeted her warmly.
Artie turned to Kate and said, “I met Charlene and her husband online on a message board where I gave advice on takin’ care of parrots and other exotic birds. I guess you’d say we’re—”
“My husband and I are good friends of Artie’s.” Charlene offered her hand and a friendly smile to Kate.
“Yeah, that’s right. Charlene and Dud are my friends.” Artie nodded eagerly.
“So good to meet you, Charlene,” Kate said with sincerity as she took the woman’s hand. Her suspicion ebbed away. It was nice to meet someone who was a friend of Artie’s; he did seem so lonely. “We saw you yesterday in the Country Diner.”
“We’re over from South Carolina.” She hesitated a moment, almost as though she expected Kate or Bonnie to respond to that news and was bracing herself to support her claim.
“Hey, Charlene, baby, nobody’s inside. Maybe we should...” Charlene’s companion from the diner came out onto the porch with his thumb pointing toward the inside of the house. Kate smiled at his ill-fitting striped overalls—too baggy in the middle and too short at the legs, even with the straps let all the way out. He had an orange ball cap pushed back on his head, but this time he didn’t have on the sunglasses he had seemed attached to in
the diner.
When he spotted the group, his face lit up. His sneakers scuffed along the porch as he approached them, his hand stuck out.
Kate couldn’t help noticing that his leathery, tanned fingers were scarred and marked. Some of the marks were long scratches, but most of them were triangular or crescent-shaped. They ranged in color from purple to pink to white, the thickness and color varying with the depth and age of each small wound, Kate assumed.
“I’m Dud Howell. Hello, ladies.” He shook Kate’s hand, then Bonnie’s, meeting their eyes as he asked, “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
“We saw them at the diner yesterday,” Charlene volunteered without hesitation.
“That’s it. You were the ones askin’ about the birds.”
“That’s right,” Kate said. “Bonnie here is an avid bird-watcher, and we’d been out all day looking around and taking notes.”
Bonnie smiled and added, “I’m particularly interested in catching a glimpse of the umber-throated mountain sparrow.”
Dud nodded. “We came to town to try to catch sight of the migrating umbies ourselves. We’ve known Artie for a while now, so it just seemed natural we’d come for a visit while we’re in the area.” Dud put his arm around Artie’s shoulders, standing on the opposite side of Charlene. Kate thought again that they looked as though they were making it clear whom Artie belonged to.
“Oh? You’re staying with Mr. Best?” Kate looked from Dud to Charlene.
“Oh no! We’d never impose like that,” Charlene rushed to say. “We’ve just come by to spend some time with him in person, while we can.”
Bonnie took a step forward. “Well, I’m so happy we’ve run into y’all. Seeing as how you’re all birders like me, I couldn’t think of a better group of people to chat with about my observations.” Bonnie held her arms open in a friendly, inclusive gesture.
“Chat?” Artie didn’t actually recoil, but he did step back and frown as he echoed Bonnie’s term.
“Observations? About what you were talking about in the diner?” Charlene lowered her voice as she spoke, as if she were discussing something exciting but secretive. “About how few birds you’ve been seeing in the area?”
“Birds? In what area?” Artie’s frown deepened to a scowl.
Kate stepped in. “We haven’t been to the library yet to get a more detailed map, but we used Bonnie’s birding journal to try to piece together a pattern,” Kate looked to Bonnie, who quickly pulled the page from her journal. Kate showed it to Artie. “Every X represents around ten bird sightings. As you can see, the closer we get to your property—”
“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am. With all due respect, the closer you get to my property, the less business any of this is of yours,” Artie said solemnly as he handed the map back to Kate without even looking it over. “Don’t aim to be rude; I just don’t have any intention of gettin’ involved with any of this Sparrowpalooza nonsense. Thank you for comin’ today.”
He gave them a nod and started toward the house.
Kate and Bonnie looked at each other.
Dud called after Artie, nodded his good-byes to the ladies, then caught up with the smaller, older man.
Charlene, left alone with Kate and Bonnie, tried to offer an explanation. “I guess that’s what comes of livin’ out here all alone for so long. Charm and cooperation aren’t things you have to put into practice much.” She shrugged a bit apologetically. “I wouldn’t mind getting a look at that map of yours, though.”
Bonnie offered it to her.
Charlene took the map and leaned against her van, studying the paper intently. A few minutes passed before she tapped the paper with one finger and asked, “So, you two have been all over these marked areas?”
“Hit and miss,” Bonnie said. “Just taking samplings, listening, watching—you know how it goes.”
“Um, yeah. Yes, of course I do. Bird-watching...it’s what we do, right?” Charlene gave a light laugh, then handed the map back to Bonnie. “So, you plan on being around these parts a lot this next week?”
“I will. But I can’t speak for Kate.” Bonnie looked over her shoulder.
Kate glanced at the house, then at the barns, then watched as Bonnie folded up the map. “Well, I’m not really a fellow bird-watcher, but I have a feeling I’m not done looking around the area. If there’s something going on with the birds out here, I definitely want to help Bonnie figure that out.”
Chapter Nine
The sun shone bright over a nearly cloudless Friday afternoon sky. Lucas Gregory called Paul just before lunch and said, excitedly, “This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and go fly in it!”
By one o’clock, they were standing beside Lucas’ white and blue two-seater airplane. Paul’s stomach had worked into a knot of anticipation and good old-fashioned nerves.
“Well, what do you think of her?” Lucas pumped the side of his fist a couple of times against the door of the plane.
It sounded solid enough, and Lucas’ eagerness inspired a renewed sense of confidence in Paul. Father Lucas tended to have that kind of effect on people. Tall and tanned, he had a winning smile and a self-assured but humble way about him.
Paul had once asked Kate what the women in town thought of the youngish single man of the cloth. She had thought it over a minute or two. Then, grinning, she’d told him that Father Lucas was what they used to call a dreamboat.
Paul didn’t exactly see that, of course. But then, he couldn’t argue that Lucas did seem to have a certain star quality about him. Better than that, to Paul’s way of thinking, he had a good sense of humor and a great love of life and the Lord.
All in all, Paul really couldn’t have found a better person to have as his pilot for the afternoon. He turned his attention to the small aircraft and peered into the interior. “I thought it would be...bigger.”
“Naw. Bigger only means more machine between you and the sky.” Lucas opened the door to climb into the pilot’s seat.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Paul wondered out loud as he followed suit.
Lucas laughed, and Paul’s apprehensions eased as he settled into his seat.
Lucas began ticking off his checklist. Paul marveled at the thoroughness of the task and at Lucas’ unwavering attention to the smallest detail. After about fifteen minutes, Lucas reached the end of the list, then slid on a pair of authentic aviator sunglasses and an old baseball cap.
“All done?” Paul asked, his heartbeat picking up at the thought of the impending takeoff.
“Just one more thing between us and the wild blue yonder. But it’s one thing I’d never even consider starting off without.” Lucas turned in his seat and gave Paul a look over the top of his aviators. “You want to give a quick blessing before we go up, or shall I?”
Paul deferred to his Episcopalian counterpart, promising to handle the honors himself next trip. Only a matter of moments after they had said their amens, the plane began to taxi down the runway.
Paul had been in airplanes plenty of times before, some of them fairly small, but he’d never experienced anything like this. Lucas had gotten it dead-on when he’d dismissed the idea of having more “plane” around them. The smallness and simplicity of this craft created a sense of oneness with the power of the engines, the wonder of flight. The breathtaking awe of ascending up and up and up in it as the world fell farther and farther away was unlike anything Paul had ever known.
Because Lucas had an agenda, mapping out one of a couple of routes he could offer to any interested bird-watchers, Paul had no say in where they went. But that suited him just fine. He was along for the ride, and what a ride it was!
The engine of the small craft hummed loudly, making it hard to carry on any kind of serious conversation. The plane itself puttered along, occasionally shuddering when buffeted by the wind. Once, catching an updraft, it lifted like a kite catching the wind. Lucas told Paul he loved that sensation because it felt like the physical manifestation of t
he kind of total surrender he had always tried to give to God.
Paul gazed out his window onto the serene landscape of this special slice of his beloved Tennessee. They made the trip from Pine Ridge to Copper Mill, following Pine Ridge Road for the most part, Lucas told him. Lucas also scouted out fields and open stretches of road to stay aware of possible spots for an emergency landing. He assured Paul he’d never had to do that sort of thing, but he liked to be prepared.
The trees and hills made an awesome display of color and gave Paul a whole new appreciation for the layout of the area. When Lucas turned the plane back to the airfield, Paul was a little sad. But at least he had a few more trips to look forward to.
“SO HOW WAS THE FLYING?” Kate met Paul at the diner, where Bonnie had offered to buy them supper.
“Exhilarating.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek and a hug. When he noticed that she squeezed him a little tighter and hung on a few seconds longer, he smiled to himself and added, “And perfectly safe. Lucas sure knows what he’s doing.”
“Of course, it’s safe,” Kate said, but her contented sigh as she smiled at him let him know she’d been nervous about it.
They went inside. He and Kate knew most of the people in the diner, and they said hi to each of them. Then they slid into a booth, the two of them on one side and Bonnie on the other.
As soon as they placed their order, the retired schoolteacher wriggled anxiously in her seat and asked, “So, did you see any flocks of birds during your flight? How many and what kind?”
“I knew you were going to ask that.” Paul gave a playful wince. “I feel like a kid saying, ‘The dog ate my homework,’ but I have to tell you, Bonnie, I didn’t pay attention to any birds.”
Bonnie looked crestfallen.
Kate rubbed his arm, then curled her fingers around his and held his hand. “That’s okay. You were probably so caught up in the moment, you didn’t have time to think about it. I’ve spent the past two days thinking about the local birds, and I’m not sure I’d have remembered to look for flocks myself.”
