Birds of a Feather (Sunday Cove)

by Webb, Peggy

  o0o

  The bus arrived shortly after supper and there was a general rush to get clothes and toothbrushes and hairbrushes.

  Mary Ann stowed her gear inside her tent, being careful not to stand upright again. Taking her toilet articles and bathrobe, she headed toward the bathhouse.

  The warm water of the shower felt heavenly. She slathered herself from head to toe with her favorite jasmine-scented soap. Its fragrance reminded her of waxy white blossoms on the bush that grew beside her front porch in Sunday Cove. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the soft rush of water and the quiet stillness of the bathhouse.

  Suddenly, a loud male voice raised in lusty song shattered the stillness. Mary Ann stuck her head cautiously out from behind the shower curtain expecting to see a man in the bathhouse. It was empty.

  With a sigh of relief she stepped back under the water. Of course! The men’s area was just beyond the wall. One of the birdwatchers was showering and lifting his voice in song. And it was quite a good voice too.

  Mary Ann smiled as she made out the words to “My Darling Clementine.” She was thoroughly enjoying the song until she realized that the man was not singing about Clementine; he was singing about Mary Ann.

  Hastily, she left the shower and dressed. Whoever her admirer was, she didn’t want to meet him coming out of the bathhouse. This so-called tranquil retreat was already complicated enough with Bill Benson trying to rescue her at every turn. She certainly didn’t need another man to run from.

  She hurried to her tent and crawled inside. Dark was settling over the mountains and she switched on her plastic, fluorescent lantern. After pulling off her robe, she stretched out in her sleeping bag and started to read one of the many books she had packed. She snuggled deep into the warm bag. Now that the sun had disappeared, there was a real chill in the night air.

  After reading for an hour, Mary Ann yawned. With only the gentle swish of tree branches and the muted calls of the night birds to break the silence, she was lulled into the half-dreaming state that precedes sleep.

  Shutting off her lantern, she lay down in the sleeping bag and closed her eyes. The wind in the trees made a comforting, tranquil sound, one that was very pleasant. She could— What was that?

  She sat bolt upright, clutching the sleeping bag to her chest. There it was again, a scratching sound outside her tent. What if some animal were trying to get into her tent? What would she do? It might even be a bear.

  Her hands started shaking. She had known there would be birds in the woods, but she hadn’t bargained for a creature with fur. And fangs. And teeth. She wasn’t a girl scout. She wasn’t even a back-to-nature type. Nature was something to admire from the safe distance of one’s kitchen window, not something to invade and conquer.

  There it was again! That ominous scratching.

  “I’ll kill you when I get home, Mother.”

  The walls of her tent had suddenly begun to assume eerie, ghostlike shapes.

  Cautiously, Mary Ann turned around and peered out the mesh back window of her tent, straight into a pair of gleaming eyes. She stifled a scream. There was something out there!

  The scratching noise sounded again. Mary Ann scrambled out of her sleeping bag. If that creature wanted her tent, he could have it. She wasn’t going to stay around to put out the welcome mat. She’d go and sleep with Sally.

  She crawled as fast as she could through the front flap of her tent. Her filmy white nightgown streamed behind her as her bare feet flew over the ground.

  Whump! She ran solidly into an immovable object. Two strong arms closed around her, and she looked up into the face of Bill Benson.

  “What’s your hurry?” He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and in the moonlight his face had all the dark, dashing charm of a buccaneer pirate.

  “Something’s trying to get into my tent! An animal!” She was almost hysterical.

  “You’re safe now. Shh! It’s all right.” He pulled her close, and his hands caressed her back in soothing motions.

  “I saw its beady eyes peering in at me,” she babbled.

  “Would you like me to take a look?” Bill had not loosened his hold on her, and her fear was rapidly being replaced by shivers as his hands continued their wonderful stroking. “It’s probably just a raccoon.”

  “Don’t they have teeth and claws?” She shivered, partly from fear but mostly from the feel of Bill’s hands and the chill of the night air.

  “Here. Put this on before you freeze.” He peeled off his sweater and wrapped it around her shoulders. The faint aroma of pipe tobacco clung to the sweater. It was a smell that Mary Ann found domestic and comforting. “Now, show me where this fearsome creature is.” There was a chuckle in his voice.

  “I don’t really want to go back there. I’m going to see if Sally will let me sleep in her tent.”

  Bill coaxed her gently forward with an arm around her shoulders.

  “Even if you sleep with Sally, you’ll still need your sleeping bag. It gets cold in the mountains at night.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be led back to her tent.

  Bill kept a tight hold on her, and she wasn’t about to object. She felt safe with his arm around her. Besides, it was just another rescue, a job he seemed particularly good at. There was nothing personal in his muscled thigh brushing against her leg through the thin silk of her nightgown. There was nothing personal in his strong arm lying across her shoulder. Then why was she all giddy-headed and tingly-feeling? Maybe it was the aftershave he was wearing. A hint of fragrance that smelled like...orange blossoms?

  For Pete’s sake. Now look what the deep woods had done to her. If she stayed here much longer she was going to start believing in some silly old legend about signs and true love and magic citrus trees.

  Bill’s flashlight made a bright trail for them. As they neared her tent he flashed the intense beam all around, looking for signs of the creature that had frightened her.

  “There. See it.” He shone the light at a small animal crouched on the ground. “It’s just a little ‘coon.”

  “That’s what you said about the snake this morning—’just a little snake.’ I still think he wanted to come into my tent with me.”

  “What creature in his right mind wouldn’t?”

  For a casual rescue, that certainly was a personal remark. Mary Ann’s gaze caught and held his in the moonlight, and an otherworld magic stole over them.

  As he bent and gently brushed her parted lips, her arms stole around him. He felt so right, she melted into him, losing herself in the magic of their embrace.

  “I know a perfect way to assure your safety for the night,” he said against her lips.

  “What?”

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  Like a swimmer coming up for air, she pushed away from him. Was she out of her mind?

  “No, thank you.” She felt such a confusing rush of emotions she went into automatic defense mode. “I think you’ve already done enough.”

  She tried her best to look dignified and haughty as she clutched his wool sweater around her.

  He gave a snort that was a mixture of amusement and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Embarrassment? Regret? In spite of the fact that everybody moved at the speed of light these days, falling into relationships before they even knew the other person, Bill Benson struck her as more than a bit old fashioned. More the type for chivalry than conquest.

  “Good grief,” she said, feeling a bit sheepish. “That sounded like bad TV dialogue.”

  Bill ran his fingers through his hair, which was already disheveled in that sexy way that made her wish she was wearing more clothes.

  Or less. Whichever way you wanted to look at it.

  “You didn’t seem to mind my company when you came flying through the woods a moment ago,” he said. “In fact, I thought you enjoyed it.”

  On some level, Mary Ann knew he was taking the same defensive tactic as she. Still, she couldn’
t afford to let her guard down. She had the twins to think about, and she certainly had no intention repeating the mistakes of her painful past.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Bill Benson. I plan to spend the rest of this week avoiding your pompous, pigheaded company.” With those parting words she turned and half-walked, half-crawled into her tent. It was not the dignified exit she would have chosen, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. She thought she heard Bill chuckle as he walked away.

  She slid into her sleeping bag, pulled it up to her chin, and lay there wide-eyed for two hours, visions of fearsome creatures dancing in her head. All the creatures had Bill’s face and Bill’s dark, laughing eyes and Bill’s sexy eyelashes. Instead of fangs and claws they had Bill’s hands that had touched her and turned her to putty, and Bill’s mouth that had changed her from a sensible young widow to a starry-eyed romantic.

  It was the fault of that old legend...and her mother...and the deep woods. Or maybe it was something she’d had for supper. Her digestion wasn’t what it used be pre-Harvey.

  Mary Ann rose up and punched the sleeping bag pillow. It was going to be a long week in the woods with the birds. She could already tell.

  Chapter 3

  Bill was up well before the sun, a habit that had served him well through the years, especially on these bird watching retreats. He dressed quickly and reconnoitered the area around Mary Ann’s tent. The little raccoon that had scared her out of her wits was nowhere in sight. Though he certainly didn’t mind rescuing her again, he didn’t like the idea of her being frightened.

  Some latent little voice inside his head said, and why is that?

  She was attractive. That was a no-brainer. And she had wit and intelligence, always a plus in a woman. Still, Bill was not on the lookout for another woman. Not that he had any residual feelings for Gloria. And not that he didn’t like the idea of finding someone else. He would, someday. Just not today and not this woman. What Bill needed was a nice, ordinary woman he could rely on, sort of like a favorite sturdy sedan. Mary Ann Gilcrest was more like a Corvette, a sleek knockout with the kind of chassis every man who saw her would covet.

  The sun was coming up, slanting just right to filter through the mesh window of her tent. She’d be awake soon, probably peering around, looking for signs of last night’s intruder. In the broad daylight, she might even discover her fears of the night before seemed a little absurd. She might even decide that if she were going to stay in the woods for a week, she’d better get used to the woodland creatures.

  At least, that’s the way he hoped her morning would be. He was an orderly man with a firm belief that every problem has a logical solution. There was just something about Mary Ann that made him want to solve her problems. In fact, she brought out the heroic in him, a notion that pleased him enormously. He hadn’t been nor wanted to be anybody’s hero for a very long time.

  He was so absorbed by the idea of being this lovely, first time birder’s hero that he didn’t notice her tent flap opening. Suddenly, there she was, a gorgeous woman made even more appealing by her early morning dishevelment and the sweater that hung loosely around her slender shoulders. His sweater.

  He stood there like a gawky teenager, so pleased with himself he rocked back on his heels. If he’d been a rooster, he’d have crowed.

  Then blast of common sense overtook him. What if she turned around and saw him watching her? She’d think he was some kind of perverted low life who got his kicks spying on women, a peeping Tom, or even worse, a stalker.

  He walked backward as fast as he could until he felt the cover of trees, and then he raced toward his tent, thanking his lucky stars he hadn’t been spotted.

  o0o

  Mary Ann pulled the sweater closer and peered around her camp site. She was certain the little raccoon who had given her a late-night fright would come back to gloat. He’d probably even bring a little furry bandit-looking girlfriend so he could impress her. But as far as she could tell, there were no critters lying in wait.

  Suddenly, she shivered. She was not alone.

  “Who’s there,” she called, afraid to glance at the woods. There was no telling what kind of fearsome animals were waiting out there.

  She did a slow count to ten, and when nobody answered, she hurried back into her tent and stripped off Bill’s sweater. The sooner she got it back to its owner, the sooner she could put an enormous distance between herself and Bill. A whole mountain, if possible.

  She dressed and hurried to the lodge, relieved to see that she wasn’t the last one there. Bill was leaning nonchalantly against the mantel that spanned an enormous stone fireplace.

  Holding the sweater in front of her like a sacrificial offering, she approached him. “You forgot this last night.”

  “I seem to recall that it was occupied at the time,” he drawled lazily, letting his gaze travel from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, then back up. “You need to be wearing different shoes.”

  She drew back in surprise. How could he go from the intimate to the mundane in a moment’s time? “What’s the matter with these?” She held out her loafer-clad foot, her own reassurance that she had on sensible walking shoes.

  “The soles are too slick. You need a pair of rubber-soled shoes. Don’t you have some jogging shoes? We may be crossing some streams today.”

  “We won’t be doing anything today,” she assured him. “You’ll be doing your thing and I’ll be doing mine—as far away from you as possible.” She walked away in her best stiff-backed manner.

  The dining room doors opened and everybody drifted inside. The rich aroma of coffee filled the air, and Mary Ann hurried toward her table. There was nothing like sleeping outdoors to whet an appetite.

  After a hearty breakfast she followed the sound of Harriet’s tweeting whistle back into the den. Three sharp blasts signaled an impending announcement by their leader. Mary Ann smiled to herself. She felt like a small child at camp, and for the first time since coming to the retreat, she realized her mother had probably been right all along. Getting away from Sunday Cove and the constant reminders of her shrunken family might be the best way to put the last hard year behind her and start fresh.

  “It’s customary at these bird-watchers’ retreats to go out in groups of two for safety’s sake,” Harriet told the birders. “Although we’ve never had any of our group lost, we still treat the mountains with respect. Accordingly, I have assigned each of you a partner for the day. As the week progresses and you learn your fellow birders, you may want to change partners.”

  Mary Ann had assumed they would all be going out in one large group. She sat back and listened to the names being called.

  “...and I’ve put our novice birder with the person I believe can teach her the most about birds,” Harriet was saying. “Mary Ann, you will go with Bill Benson.”

  Just what she needed, a day of enforced togetherness with that man. She glanced up to see Bill smiling at her. She might have no other choice except to go with him today, but they would surely change partners tomorrow. She returned his smile halfheartedly.

  Harriet finished speaking and the birders began to leave camp for the numerous nature trails.

  “It seems this is your lucky day, Mary Ann,” Bill said, joining her. “Can’t you show a little more enthusiasm?”

  “How’s this?” She grimaced at him, showing her teeth.

  “Great. I wanted to spend the day with a hostile woman.” His sarcasm was not lost on Mary Ann.

  Her conscience pricked her. It wasn’t in her nature to be rude to people, but there was something about him that seemed to bring out the worst in her.

  Still, she fell into step beside him, matching her strides to his.

  Entering the forest was like stepping backward to a time of quiet, primitive beauty and shining silence. Bill’s pace slowed as he pointed out the giant spruce trees with their rich green needles and the yellow birches, sugar maples, and mountain silver bells with their delicate lace-g
reen leaves.

  “How do you know I don’t already know the names of all those trees?”

  “An educated guess.”

  He was cheerful, the day was gorgeous and Mary Ann decided not to waste another minute being contrary. Besides, that was a trait she despised in other women.

  “Actually, I’m glad you told me, Bill. The only one I knew was the spruce, and I do love to learn new things. I’m always preaching that to the boys. ‘Keep your eyes wide open. Learn something new every day.’“

  “Do you know the male scarlet tanager?”

  “I don’t even know the female.”

  Bill stilled her with a hand on her shoulder. “There he is, sitting about halfway up the spruce tree.”

  With the morning sun slanting down on the bird, his body looked like flame against the contrast of his jet black wings. He hopped to a lower branch and began singing. It didn’t take her long to figure out that he was chirping a four-phrase melody.

  Mary Ann loved music of all kinds. Though she never studied piano, she did have what her mother called “an ear for song.” Occasionally, she’s sit down at the piano in the evenings and pick out a few simple tunes to sing along with the boys.

  “We’re intruders in his territory, and he’s warning us away,” Bill explained.

  “How do you know?” Mary Ann was glad to be discussing birds with Bill. She knew only a few of the most common birds. She should use this trip to increase her knowledge, for she believed that a person either continued learning or regressed. There was no standing still.

  “Birds sing primarily for two reasons,” Bill was saying, “to attract a mate and to repel intruders. We are obviously intruders.”

  She searched his face for any sign that he was being condescending to her because of her lack of bird knowledge, but she could find none. As a matter of fact, he had the sincere look of one who loves sharing knowledge.

  “The scarlet tanager, like most other birds, will do most of his singing during the nesting season.”

  “I suppose he has no need to sing after that.”

  “Exactly. I’m glad to see that you came to this retreat to learn about birds.”