Birds of a Feather (Sunday Cove)

by Webb, Peggy

  “Now you’re all ready for our camping trip.”

  “I’m not—” She stopped. There was no need to tell Bill that she wasn’t going. Particularly since he was the reason, and he was astute enough to figure it out. “I’m not quite ready yet.”

  She crossed her fingers behind her back as she told the white lie then sent a silent apology heavenward for all the lies she was about to tell.

  “Why don’t you go ahead with the first group and I’ll catch up later?” She looked up to see if a bolt of lightning was about to strike her dead on the spot.

  He caught her hands and kissed her palms. “I look forward to getting to know you better, Mary Ann. There is so much I want to learn.”

  She reminded herself that “happily ever after” hadn’t turned out that way, and she wasn’t about to give Bill Benson the wrong idea...or any ideas at all.

  “I’ll see you later, Bill. Just watch for me in the ragtag group at the end of the hiking party.”

  When he bent closer and planted a light kiss on her lips, she almost lost her resolve.

  “Until later, then.”

  Mary Ann squinted into the sun until she could see him no more and then went back to her tent and opened a Faulkner novel. She kept having to read the same sentence twice.

  In the distance, birders were leaving the camp. She waited until the camp fell silent and there was absolutely no way anybody could see her, and then she took her book outside to patch of sunlight, where she sat alternately reading, wondering what her mom and the kids were doing, and wondering about Bill.

  Finally, she was certain it was lunch time, because she felt hollow all the way though. She was halfway to the dining hall when she glanced at her watch. It was only ten, and every minute had felt like an hour.

  She trudged back and picked up her book. Had she been on page fifty-five or seventy-five? It didn’t really matter. She couldn’t remember a thing she’d read.

  Mary Ann shut the book, stretched on the grass and stared up at the sky. The funny thing about being alone is that when you’re in your home surrounded by two rambunctious boys, a bossy dog and an even bossier mother, you’d give your eye teeth to be by yourself. And then you find yourself alone in a remote camp in the mountains, and you wish just the opposite.

  Determined not to become one of those people who is never satisfied, Mary Ann raced to lodge and got her sandwich to go, then came back, stretched on the grass and studied the surrounding woods until she could feel its serenity seep into her bones.

  Now that was a feeling worth having. She could get used to this kind of quiet peace. She might even get to liking bird watching.

  She yawned and stretched on the grass in the sunshine.

  o0o

  Two hours later she came fully awake. Sitting up, she cocked her head, listening. She could hear nothing except the chatter of birds she didn’t know. It was a bit cooler than when she’d gone to sleep, so she went inside her tent to grab a sweater.

  A vague restlessness had replaced her earlier contentment. A glance at her watch told her it was already two, and she hadn’t even had her sandwich. Maybe she needed food and a brisk walk.

  After she ate her sandwich, she jogged around the camp, but that didn’t satisfy the vague sense of something missing. Armed with nothing more than a sweater and good intentions, she headed toward the woods. After all, she was on a bird-watching trip. She might even spot a bird.

  Following the trail she remembered from yesterday’s outing, she felt the green woods close around her like a benediction. The setting was so spectacular, she thought she might come back next year and bring her mom and the boys.

  Suddenly there was a flash of scarlet in the treetops just head. The idea of spotting a rare bird gave her a chill, but in a very good way. Energized, she went in hot pursuit of the scarlet tanager. Glimpses of red beckoned, and she left the known trail to plunge deeper into the forest. The only sound was the soft scrunch of her shoes on the forest floor.

  But the evasive bird stayed always just ahead of her.

  Suddenly she realized a distinct gloom had settled over the woods. She turned back toward the trail that led to camp, but everything looked different now. She distinctly remembered a large tree with roots big enough to sit on, but was it past the left fork or the right?

  Mary Ann was lost, and that’s all there was to it.

  She squelched a momentary sense of panic. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Hadn’t she said that a million times and wasn’t that a pair of beady eyes peering at her from the dark bushes?

  She scurried to a rock and sat down, being careful to lift her feet high enough off the ground to keep them away from snakes and crawly things. She darted her gaze around the dark forest and wondered what to do next. It would be impossible to find her way back to camp in the dark. She heaved a resigned sigh and huddled on the cold rock, cursing the fates that had her lost in the Smoky Mountains instead of back home in Sunday Cove eating chicken pot pie at Clara’s Cafe with her mom and the boys.

  Eerie low-pitched sounds of night creatures came out of the darkness. Mary Ann covered her ears to keep the encroaching evil away. She was probably going to die in the woods at the hands of some horrible animal.

  She pictured how Emma at the Sunday Cove Post Office would tell it: There she was, poor Mary Ann, fighting that big old bear all by herself. She put up a fight. When they killed the bear, one of his eyes was torn plumb out of its socket. They didn’t find hide nor hair of her, though, not a single thing except her sweater and her shoes.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, but how was she ever going to tear a bear’s eyes out unless she could see him coming? She opened one eye and peered around. Was that a shadow in the thicket? Was that the scrunch of claws on the forest floor?

  She jumped off her rock, doubled up her fists and got into a fighting stance. Her boys had lost their daddy; she wasn’t about to deprive them of their mother, too.

  Chapter 6

  Bill hadn’t seen Mary Ann since before they left the camp. And maybe that was a very good thing. Every time he was around her, he seemed to end up acting like some hormone-driven teenager. That type of behavior was so unlike him, he wondered if perhaps he was coming down with some sort of early mid-life crisis, something he should consult his doctor about.

  Besides, Mary Ann had made it perfectly clear she didn’t want involvement. This overnight outing should provide the perfect opportunity to put some distance between then, gain some perspective, regroup so to speak.

  Bill pulled his notepad out of his backpack and recorded his latest sighting, a male cerulean warbler, an elusive little bird that was fond of flying into treetops and hiding among the leaves in order to escape detection.

  He started to push on but a quick glance at his watch told him it was lunch time. Glancing around, he spotted Sally and Otho just ahead, already spreading their picnic beside a stream.

  “Hey, Bill!” Sally waved at him. “Come over and join us.”

  He was glad for their company. To tell the truth, he missed not having Mary Ann around. Being with her was like standing in front of a good, bracing ocean breeze.

  “Thanks.” He joined them and shrugged out of his back pack. “Are you guys having any luck?”

  “We saw an American Redstart, for sure, but there’re as common as field mice. Otho spotted a Blackburnian Warbler!”

  “I’m not so sure about that, Sal,” Otho told her. “They’re usually farther north.”

  “Well, I’m positive you saw him, honey. You have an eye for a rare bird.”

  Sally and Otho were so happy with reach other, Bill felt as if he’d intruded on their privacy.

  “That would be something of a coup, Otho,” Bill told him. “Which way was the warbler?”

  “A bit north of here.”

  “I think I’ll just head in that direction and see if I can find him.” Bill began re-wrapping his sandwich.

  “But you haven’t eaten yet!” Sally s
aid.

  “I’m not that hungry. I think I’d rather push on. I might run into Mary Ann.”

  “Oh dear,” Sally said, and Bill felt something inside him clench.

  “What? Has something happened to her?”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  Now he was really getting alarmed. “Tell me what?”

  “She decided not to come on this outing.”

  “Did she say why?”

  “Something about being tired, and I thought she did look a little pale. Now I feel like an absolute toad for leaving her by herself.”

  Otho patted her. “She told you she’d be fine, Sugar. There’s no need to beat yourself up.”

  “Absolutely not, Sally. She’s probably holed up in her tent reading. You saw that big stack of books she brought.”

  “I don’t know, Bill. Now that I think back, she just didn’t seem herself.”

  Bill stood up, all thoughts of food and birding now vanished. “I’m going to head back to camp and check on her.”

  “Maybe Otho and I should go with you. What if she’s really sick?”

  He had a sinking feeling he was the reason Mary Ann had stayed behind at the base camp. All that business about her shoe and her sleeping in the bear’s bed. He’d have a hard time living with himself if something happened to her. She was such a literal babe in the woods, there’s no telling what kind of trouble she could get into.

  “Don’t you worry, Sally. I’ve got this covered. You and Otho enjoy the rest of this outing. I’m sure Mary Ann’s all right.”

  “Bill’s right, hon. You shouldn’t worry about your friend. She seems like a perfectly capable woman.”

  “Oh, I know. I’m just being silly.” Sally smiled at both of them. “She probably just wanted to be by herself a while. You won’t tell her I spilled the beans, will you, Bill?”

  “My lips are sealed. Birder’s honor.”

  Bill made himself walk until he was out of their sight, and then he took off running.

  o0o

  The awful creature in the woods was getting closer. From the sound of thrashing, it was something big and horrible, something that wouldn’t be a bit scared of Mary Ann’s fists. Still, she kept her fighting stance and tried to hang onto her last shred of courage.

  “Mary Ann! Thank heavens you’re all right!”

  Bill strode into the clearing, and she nearly knocked him down with her exuberant hug.

  “Bill!” Her voice was muffled against his neck. “I thought you were a bear!”

  “I’m no bear, just a man who has been scared half out of his wits.” He caressed her back and swayed back and forth, rocking her like a baby. “When I came back to the camp and discovered you were gone, I imagined all sorts of accidents. What are you doing out here anyway?”

  “Hating Harvey.” His face was in shadow, but she knew exactly how it would look - all craggy, rugged planes with laugh lines fanning out from his eyes. At that moment there was no other face she wanted to see.

  “Mary Ann, what am I going to do with you?”

  She loved the smile she heard in his voice. In fact, there was a whole lot she liked about this man. Really liked.

  “Feed me. I missed supper again.”

  “I think I can manage that.” He scrambled around in his backpack and came out with two cans of pork and beans. “How about sharing a can of porridge with a bear?”

  “If the bear promises that it won’t be too hot or too cold.” Her pulse raced as she remembered Bill’s reference to the story that morning, the part about Goldilocks sleeping in the bear’s bed.

  Bill built a fire near the stream. A young moon had risen, and pale fingers of silver washed his dark hair. Is that how the legendary Colonel’s daughter had seen her Rebel Captain when she married him in the orange grove under the moonlight? Of course, there were some folks in Sunday Cove who said she’d been married in the broad light of day, but Mary Ann like the moonlit version better. It was more romantic - if you were looking for romance.

  “A penny for your thoughts.” Bill smiled up at her.

  “I was just thinking of home.”

  “Come sit by the fire. It’s getting cold and dinner is almost ready.”

  “It smells delicious.” She sat down and stretched her hands toward the fire. “I’m impressed.”

  His roar of laughter startled an owl, one of the few birds Mary Ann knew. With a rush of wings, the night bird took off for a part of the forest not occupied by a woman who was too stubborn to even say thank you.

  “Thank you,” Bill said, “but I’m afraid the credit goes to Campbell’s.”

  “That’s my line.”

  “The credit goes to Campbell’s?”

  “No. That part about thank you. I never did say thank you for coming out here to find me.”

  “You are more than welcome, Mary Ann.”

  He laced hands with her and then studied them in the firelight as if he’d discovered a map of the world. Before he let go, he planted a soft kiss in her palm. It made her feel warm and secure and at the same time fragile and needy.

  “I couldn’t see the trail in the dark, that was all.” She tucked her hand inside the sleeves of her sweater, but she could still feel the imprint of his kiss. “I was going to spend the night and then walk back in the morning.”

  “I see.” His eyes were twinkling. How could you not like somebody with such a great sense of humor? “Eat your beans, Amelia.”

  “Amelia?”

  “Earhart.”

  “I don’t have an airplane.”

  “You have her sense of adventure.”

  “But she got lost and was never found.”

  “I’ll always find you, Mary Ann”

  She wouldn’t touch that comment with a ten foot pole. Instead, she ate her beans and warmed herself by the fire; and when he draped an arm casually across her shoulders, she tried not to warm herself against Bill.

  “Shouldn’t we be going back now?”

  “We won’t be going back tonight, Mary Ann. I could navigate by the stars, but I don’t want you falling in the dark.”

  “If you think I’m spending the night in these woods with all these wild animals”—she swept her arms wide to encompass a host of depraved creatures—”you’re crazy.”

  “Isn’t that what you were planning to do before I came along?”

  “Yes, but...”

  “With all the bears and snakes and raccoons for company?”

  “I wasn’t afraid. Not one bit.” She stuck out her chin in defiance.

  Bill’s chuckle was pleasant and homey. “It just so happens, my brave Lady Goldilocks, that I’ve brought our sleeping bags.”

  “One for me and one for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” She settled back against him. “Bill?”

  “Hmm?” His answer was slow and lazy. He seemed perfectly content to lean against the rock with his arms around her.

  “Will the fire keep animals away?”

  “The kind that eat tall golden-haired women?” he teased her.

  “Yes.”

  “Mary Ann, has an animal tried to eat you this week?”

  “Only you.”

  He chuckled. “Then I’m the only one you have to worry about tonight.”

  Somehow his statement didn’t bother her. He seemed made for leaning on, and so she did. They sat in companionable silence, surrounded by the quiet forest and the crackle of their fire.

  “How did you find me, Bill?”

  “You left a bright red trail. Bits of your sweater were snared in the brambles.” He reached in his pocket, then held his hand out for her inspection. The yarn lay curled in his palm in a scarlet coil. “When I discovered that you hadn’t joined the rest of the group, I turned back.”

  “Why?”

  “I had a hunch you would do something unconventional. You always do.” His hand was caressing the sensitive skin below her ear as he talked. “The cooks confirmed my suspicions. They saw
you headed toward the woods. It was already late afternoon when I started after you, so I decided to bring camping gear.”

  “Who did you rescue before I came along?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Honest?”

  “I’ve never met a woman I wanted to rescue before I met you. You’re unpredictable and complicated and exciting. It’s been a long time since I’ve had as much fun as I have had with you these last few days. You’re like a ray of sunshine in the drab life of a CPA.”

  If she were sensible, she would jump up and run away before it was too late. But she was hardly ever sensible. A girl could miss a whole lifetime of fun being sensible.

  “You may be a CPA, but you’re certainly not drab.” Not drab at all. He was big-game hunter and tousled little boy. He was rugged and dependable and charming and vulnerable. He was the reason she could no longer firmly declare her independence. He was the reason she was giving up her policy of no involvements. Temporarily, of course. Just for tonight.

  She waited. He would kiss her. Soon. The way he had in the moonlight last night. And there was no telling where it would lead.

  A log cracked on the fire, while Bill was content just to hold her.

  What was taking him so long? She was ready to make the big sacrifice. Couldn’t he tell? What was wrong with him anyhow?

  Some kind of large bird soared above them, dipping its wings toward their fire before landing in the treetops.

  “Look over there,” he whispered. “Do you see him?”

  “I’m going to bed.” She pushed away from him and stood up. “I’ll leave you to your vultures.”

  “Night hawk.”

  She marched to the gear and dragged her bag closer to the fire. With the majesty befitting a queen, she unzipped it and crawled inside. If the zipper stuck, she was going to scream.

  “Goodnight, Bill.”

  “Bed is not a bad idea. You’ve had a traumatic day.”

  Bill laid his bag on the ground only a stone’s throw from hers. She shut her eyes and pretended to be asleep.