“Well, that’s not far away at all. You can stay longer if you want, it’s only going to sit there empty. But please, no more rent. What you’ve paid me so far is more than enough.”
“Sorry, Ruth, I can’t make any promises there,” Lucy giggled.
Just then four teenage girls came in the door, no doubt to sign up for the midnight release party in a few weeks.
“Listen, Lucy, before we hang up, I just wanted to check. Does everything seem all right next door? You know, with Colin?”
“Oh…yes, everything’s fine. He was a bit shaken by his friend’s death, but he seems better now. I think his volunteer work at The Raptor Center is helping.”
“Have you seen Gloryanne visiting him?”
“Just that one time, right after I first moved in. Why? Is something wrong?” The girls were huddled at the counter now, waiting for her to get off the phone.
“No, nothing at all. I have to run, Lucy, but keep me posted on all your book news.”
“Will do, Ruth. Bye.”
Ruth pulled out Megan’s sign-up sheet for the party and gasped out loud. They already had one hundred and fifty kids registered, an all-time high. That must be the news she was holding back. Ruth thought of the backlog of unpaid bills, her ridiculous new rent, and the cost of the convention. And the dreaded meeting with her accountant coming up.
Suddenly it all didn’t seem so disastrous. And maybe she wouldn’t have to find someone to share a room with at the convention after all.
* * *
LUCY COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT RUTH. In their last few talks there was something missing in her voice. She wondered if it had to do with Thomas. Ruth hadn’t mentioned him since the day of the book signing, when she told Lucy he was getting out on parole. And what he’d done.
As she waited for Colin, Lucy went outside and sat on the porch, watching the lightning flicker above the mountains. Everything was so still and steamy, so green and incredibly lush. Orange tiger lilies lined the roads now and Jersey sweet corn and tomatoes were for sale at farm stands and pickups all over the countryside. It was summer at its best, and how she’d grown to love it here. Ruth, she knew, would probably let her stay on indefinitely, but she would never take advantage of her kindness. She was still trying to find a way to thank Ruth for all she’d already done. Once again, her thoughts drifted to Ruth and this cabin and the nagging feeling that there was something besides being too busy that was keeping her away.
When she had mentioned it to Colin the other morning after his swim, he told her he thought it just seemed too painful. “This place embodied my Dad. A few times Jenny talked about making some changes, you know, redecorating a bit so it wasn’t so hard for her to be here, and it looks exactly like it did back then, but…it never happened.”
As she thought about his words now, it suddenly hit her! She couldn’t believe it hadn’t come to her sooner. As Colin’s jeep pulled in the driveway and he honked the horn, Lucy knew exactly what she was going to do to thank Ruth. And she wanted it to be a huge surprise. So she kept her mouth shut on their way to The Raptor Center, despite the fact her mind was humming with ideas.
They were going to check the progress of their wounded eagle. He had a name now, Kit, since he was found near the Kittatiny Range. Colin barely said a word, either. She knew he was still reeling from Danny’s death.
She sat there looking at him for a long moment. With his hair shaved he looked so much younger. It was easy to picture the towheaded little boy jumping off the dock in freezing April water, the “runt” as his father had called him, trying to impress them all with his feats of daring.
When they pulled into the lot Colin told her to go ahead while he checked in at the education building. He was going to be helping with a program on Lady, the great horned owl, that weekend. As she headed into the wooded path, she stopped at the plaque she’d only glanced at before.
The Raptor Center’s philosophy is a belief that all living things are important and if, because of humans and human activities, injuries and injustices befall wild creatures, then humans have a responsibility to help heal the injuries and attempt to correct the injustices. And if, through education and understanding, many of the injuries and injustices can be prevented, so much the better for us all. And by living in this manner, The Raptor Center tries to provide a humane example for others.
What a beautiful philosophy, she thought. She was so excited to be writing about it. She’d learned a lot about the center from her research on their website. It began as one man’s passion to rehabilitate wild birds, in the laundry room of his home on the far side of these twenty-five acres where he still lived. Now there were seventy aviaries and exterior cages, and a complex of buildings that contained a medical infirmary, education classrooms, offices and a gift shop.
She heard Colin approaching and turned.
“Susan’s going to be a few minutes, so how about we go see Lady and I’ll practice my spiel on you.”
“I’ll try not to throw tomatoes if you flub up.”
It was nice to see him laugh.
“So how many birds are here anyway?”
“Right now there are about sixty hawks, a handful of eagles, including a few golden, as well as the two bald eagles, which includes Kit. And there are about twenty different owl species. But if you count all the songbirds and nestlings, this time of year there could be several thousand birds.”
“That’s incredible,” she said, thinking of that original laundry room and how it had become this amazing place.
They stopped in front of Lady’s cage. Lucy looked at the beautiful owl sitting there so quietly amidst the branches—its soft brown feathers, the horned ears that gave it its distinct look.
“So, let me begin,” Colin said, clearing his throat with a hint of drama. “Besides using these birds for education programs and public viewing, the unreleasable raptors are used for captive breeding, or like Lady here, foster parenting. A huge part of our work here is in raising young birds that were separated from their parents during nesting season, or orphaned.”
“You mean Lady will take another owl’s young to raise?”
He nodded. “Every winter she lays two eggs. Obviously they’re infertile because she doesn’t have a mate. But her hormones trigger a mothering instinct. Of course her own eggs won’t hatch, but when the time is right, we swap those eggs for healthy babies who need a mother. She’ll begin caring for them and keeping them warm. As soon as those babies begin to beg for food,
Lady will gently begin to feed them, as if they’re her own. Not only that, they learn essential owl behavior from her that’ll help them survive in the wild even though she can’t.”
“Oh Colin, that is so touching.”
“Lady’s been fostering baby owls here for nearly twenty years, over three hundred of them. The woods of New Jersey are filled with Lady’s chicks.”
She looked at Lady, asleep on the branch, nearly thirty years old now, and felt her eyes fill, imagining her feeding and caring for one baby after another, year after year, as if they were her own. It was an incredible story.
“No wonder she’s so tired,” she joked, turning to Colin. “I think that was a great spiel.”
“I’m getting there. It rambled a bit, but I guess you got the gist.”
They headed toward the infirmary, a red barnlike building where Susan was waiting.
“Susan, I had a question,” Lucy said, since they had a few moments. “I read that lead shot was banned. So how did Kit get lead poisoning?”
“But it’s cheap, and some hunters still manage to get their hands on it. So when they shoot and can’t find their kill, it makes its way into the food chain. Your eagle no doubt feasted on a felled deer or duck. They don’t just fish, eagles are scavengers, too.”
“How awful. Don’t they—”
But just then the infirmary door opened and they turned. Out came Randy, walking very slowly, his arms covered in heavy leather gloves that went past hi
s elbows. Kit was perched on one outstretched arm. A leather leash, attached to one of the bird’s feet, tethered him to the glove in case he tried to take off, which was highly unlikely. Kit hadn’t flown for weeks now, and they doubted he ever would. The fact that he’d been named meant the odds were he was going to be a display bird.
She was stunned again at the size of the bird next to the man, realizing once more what a dangerous job this was. Kit was huge and his fierce yellow eyes darted everywhere as his head bobbed from side to side, making it easy to see how nervous it was. He hadn’t been outside the Quiet Zone since he was first brought in.
She thought about how human contact was such a stress on a bird, and imagined Kit must be terrified, being carried by a man, having no idea where he was going, or what was about to happen next. Perhaps he was even still in pain. Despite what they knew, there was so much they never would.
Slowly Randy carried the bird into the opened cage, then gently set Kit on a low branch, untethered him and carefully backed into the antechamber. Kit sat there, his head still bobbing as he turned from side to side, his bright yellow eyes surveying his new surroundings. Lucy stood beside Colin and Susan, waiting, praying. Kit’s lead levels, so high that it almost killed him, were back to normal, thanks to the chelation therapy, which essentially washed his blood of the toxic metal. He looked strong again, but until today, he’d had no chance to try out his healed wing. Lucy’s heart was in her throat, hoping he’d be able to fly. For some reason, as she stood beside Colin, she didn’t want to see Kit become a display bird.
As they waited in silence, she couldn’t help thinking of Colin and his wounded vets, and even David and herself. In life, everyone got hurt, suffered loss, but in the end, hopefully they could heal and find new purpose. Perhaps that’s what was really drawing her there.
Just then Kit lifted his shoulders, as if shrugging. He did it again, and again. Then he stretched his wings ever so slightly, no doubt testing their strength after his long recuperation. She imagined not moving her legs or arms for weeks, the loss of muscle that would result. Beside her she knew Colin had similar thoughts. After a few moments, Kit spread his wings to a nearly seven foot span and it was easy to see the difference between the two, the right wing slightly bent. His talons released their grip on the branch and they waited for him to lift in the air, but he wobbled, seeming to lose his balance, then latched on tightly again with those strong feet.
Kit closed his wings and didn’t open them again.
28
IT WAS BRUTALLY HOT TODAY, BUT RUTH PROPPED THE DOOR OPEN, hoping to lure in anyone who might be passing by. Of course that made it ridiculous to put the air conditioning on. Not that other stores didn’t, but she wasn’t about to throw money out the door like that.
A bead of perspiration trickled down her back as she thought about the busy day ahead of her: a huge shipment of books to be unpacked, a pile of paperwork only she could take care of, and Hannah coming to talk about more plans for the café. She reminded herself that after work she absolutely had to stop at the grocery store. Oh, and start getting ready for the meeting with her accountant next week. She wasn’t looking forward to that. But she was looking forward to seeing Hannah, who was like a new woman now, determined, focused, and happier than Ruth could ever recall. She kept thanking Ruth for helping her to find that “thing” she was meant to do.
Since Kris was out to lunch and the store quiet, Ruth opened the folder for the Catholic grade school fund raiser. She was putting together a presentation on fifteen books for children and young adults and needed to write a one paragraph “teaser” synopsis of each book that ended with a cliffhanger—so they’d simply have to buy it to find out what happens. Although the public high school had been ordering from her for years, this was her first time dealing with St. Mary’s. Of course she’d had to cut her already dismal profit to the bone to agree to their request. But hopefully she’d get some of their kids and parents to start coming into the store, too. Every reader was precious to her. Besides, she knew the school was operating on the same kind of budget as hers—a wing and a prayer. Literally.
She looked at the first book on her list, The Diary of a Young Girl. She’d been stunned to learn neither of her granddaughters had even heard of this classic. Trying to think up a great opening line, she stared out the window, letting her mind go, hoping it would suddenly float into focus. A jagged flash of lightning cut the sky and she hoped the coming storm would usher in cooler air. She closed the folder and put it back on the pile of paperwork, realizing she just didn’t have the mental energy for a big project right now. Maybe she could start working on the essay contest for the convention. That deadline was fast approaching.
She couldn’t wait to go to the convention and get away. When was the last time she’d been out of Warwick? Ruth loved those weekend getaways every year, a chance to come away with a shopping bag full of galleys of upcoming books, and also to share ideas about running things more efficiently. And, of course, the old standby: getting more business and bringing in more revenue.
Over cocktails at night, most of them commiserated about the inability to ever get ahead, although that was usually followed by lively discussions about everyone’s latest or favorite new read. God how she loved that part, dissecting characters and plots, and even someone’s style of writing. That’s why they did it, they’d all agree by the end of the evening, cheeks flushed with alcohol, eyes bright with excitement over their shared ideas. Booksellers didn’t go into the business for the money.
The title of this year’s essay seemed a bit redundant: Why I’m a Bookseller. Without a doubt each and every one of them could answer: Because I love books. It was going to be a challenge, finding another way of saying it. Or another reason. She sat back on the stool, knowing she didn’t have the creative focus for this project either. She’d just have to get up extra early tomorrow and tackle it while her brain was fresh.
She walked around the counter to go dig out the old oscillating fan, buried somewhere in the storage room, when she heard a noise and turned, expecting to see Hannah.
“Eddie,” she said, the surprise evident in her voice as Hannah’s husband strolled in.
“Hey, Ruth. Hannah’s a bit under the weather and probably won’t be over. I thought I’d stop by and check things out.”
Ruth couldn’t imagine anything keeping Hannah from their meeting. She’d been foraging garage sales and thrift shops for the contents of her café. She told Ruth she was painting a few old mirrors with flowers and panes to make them look like windows, to brighten up the back corner. She was supposed to bring one in today to show her, as well as another new recipe for her to sample.
Ruth led Eddie to the back of the store. “I hope it isn’t anything serious.”
“Nah, just a headache.”
She stopped and turned to him. Eddie was a short man, powerfully built, and back in high school, a million years ago, when he and Hannah first began dating, she’d thought him good-looking. Now he was losing his hair, his muscles had softened, and he wore his pants dangerously low under a hefty paunch.
“This whole back corner of the store is where she’ll be setting up her café,” Ruth said, waving her arm to show the area she meant. “We’ll be clearing out those bookshelves soon, and she’ll have about three hundred square feet to work with, which I think—”
“Are you serious?” Eddie interrupted with a laugh.
Ruth looked at him, not sure what he was getting at.
“She’ll be able to fit what? Maybe two or three tables there?” he asked with great sarcasm.
“She’s hoping for five, actually. Which I think is very doable. She’s getting bistro tables at garage sales and consignment shops.”
“And she thinks she’s going to serve a few tables coffee and muffins and make what she’s making at Elaine’s?” He turned to her, his hands on his hips now. “She gave her notice, you know, just like that. On a whim. You know my wife and her whims.”
/> “This isn’t a whim, Eddie. I think it’s perfect for her. But it’ll take a while, like any business. And she’s got great ideas, like gift baskets and—”
“Come on, Ruth,” he said, with a sly smile. “Isn’t this more about you? Getting some revenue? Don’t you think $500 a month is a little ridiculous for this?”
She could feel her mouth fall open. “What are you getting at?”
He was shaking his head, as if he couldn’t believe her question. “It’s no secret your rent went up. And that you’re hanging on here by your fingernails. We both know my wife is a sucker for—”
“Maybe you don’t know your wife as well as you think you do,” she interrupted, her chest tightening with anger. “Maybe you’ve been a little too… distracted. With your own business affairs?”
Eddie’s look sharpened. “The only thing I’m distracted with, Ruth, is trying to eke out a living to support us.”
“I hope that’s true, because you know how it is in a small town, how word gets around. I wouldn’t want Hannah to get hurt.”
Slowly he smiled. “Speaking from experience, Ruth? Because I’d say that’s about thirty years too late.”
God, how she wanted to smack him.
“So back to the point, I don’t want my wife getting hurt either. There’s no way she’s going to be paying $500 a month for a corner of your shop.”
Ruth’s breath was coming in short bursts now. She could almost see Hannah’s shattered look when her ideas went sliding down the tubes.
“But Eddie,” she said, forcing a sweet tone into her voice. “Didn’t Hannah tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“I’m not charging her any rent at all. Not until she begins making a profit.”
He blinked.
“I want her to succeed. I’ve never seen her so excited. Or happy. Why would I want to put something in the way of that, like rent?” Her heart was galloping now, her anger turning to satisfaction as she watched his face change. “And if people come in for her muffins and coffee, then hopefully they’ll buy a book, too. It’ll be a win-win for us both. Think Starbucks. There’s big money in lattes and muffins.” Ha! Starbucks, that was feckin’ brilliant.
Book Lover, The Page 23
