Birds of a Feather (Sunday Cove)

by Webb, Peggy

  Five minutes later Mary Ann could hear the regular rise and fall of his breathing. She tossed about in her bag, tangling her clothes around her. She wished she had a nightgown. She wished she had a tent. Her sweater rode up uncomfortably over her chest. The night seemed three years long.

  She tried closing her eyes, but it didn’t work. She heard rustling in the grass. Some crawly, slimy thing was surely sneaking up on her. She thought of waking Bill, but promptly rejected the idea. Anyway, she was mad at him. Her body was in flames and he didn’t even know there was a fire.

  Suddenly, there was a whir of wings close to her head followed by an eerie screech.

  “Bill! Bill, wake up!”

  She struggled up and jerked on the zipper of her sleeping bag. Too late, she realized her mistake. She’d tangled her sweater in the zipper and no matter how much she flailed, she was stuck.

  “Lie still.” Bill bent over her and began to work the zipper. “What happened?” His calm voice had a soothing effect on her.

  “Didn’t you hear it? A giant creature with claws and huge, wild eyes flew at my head screaming. It was awful.” She grabbed her zipper, trying to loosen it herself. “Get me out of here.”

  Bill placed his hands over hers and gently pushed them aside. “Be still, Mary Ann. You’re making a bigger mess.” He worked the stuck zipper, trying to loosen its tenacious grip on her sweater.

  “Hurry, Bill. It might come back.” She flopped around and managed to topple Bill.

  Her breath whooshed out as she felt the impact of his weight. He lay across her chest a moment and gazed deeply into her eyes before righting himself. Then he began to work the zipper again.

  “If you don’t be still, I’ll never get you out of here.”

  Suddenly she was aware of a new sensation, not fear but the utter pleasure of Bill’s nearness, his breath fanning her cheek, his hands brushing against her skin.

  A fine line of perspiration appeared along his upper lip, and his breathing became harsh. Desire snaked between them like a live thing.

  The zipper finally pulled free and Bill stood up, as tightly drawn as a bow string.

  From deep in the woods the eerie bird call sounded again. Mary Ann sprang upward and wrapped herself around Bill.

  “That’s it! The creature.”

  “Thank heavens for screech owls.”

  With great tenderness, he lowered her back to the sleeping bag, and there in the cool night woods with firelight gilding his skin and the scent of citrus surrounding him, Bill Benson, this most unlikely hero who knew how to locate exotic birds and navigate by the stars, showed her how to find paradise.

  Chapter 7

  Mary Ann sat on a rock and watched Bill pack their camping gear. As she looked at him with the sunshine in his hair, she felt deliciously pleased with herself and with him. The intimacy they had shared last night—and this morning in the sleeping bag—had satisfied a need in both of them. Bill had asked for no commitment and she hadn’t made any.

  She hugged her knees and grinned like a Cheshire cat. He had not only satisfied a need; he had left her panting for more. A wicked gleam came into her eyes. This bird-watcher’s retreat might be salvaged after all, in spite of the birds. If Bill asked, she’d be perfectly willing to have a brief affair. Discreetly, of course.

  But why wait for him to ask? She’d make the proposition herself.

  Her mind raced with plans. She could take the subtle, seductive approach to lure him into her tent—fluttering eyelashes, jasmine perfume, and her aqua dress. No, that wouldn’t do. Bill was no dummy. He’d see through that in a minute.

  She could take the bold approach. She could just walk up to him and say, “Bill, we’re both adults. Let’s have an adult affair. No strings attached.”

  Or she could go about her business, and chances were very good that she’d need rescuing from some gosh-awful mess.

  No, not that either.

  Or she could just sit on this rock forever, and when he asked her why she was sitting there, she could say—

  “Mary Ann, are you all right?”

  Startled, she looked up to see Bill standing before her with their camping gear packed.

  “I’ve called your name twice and you didn’t say a word.”

  “I was just thinking,” she said.

  “It must have been a ponderous subject to require all that concentration.” He set their gear on the ground and propped a leg on the rock beside her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pipe. As he tamped tobacco into its bowl, he asked, “Would you care to share your thoughts?”

  “I was thinking about us.”

  “Funny. So was I.” He blew a smoke ring in the air.

  “Why don’t we...”

  “I think we...” They spoke simultaneously.

  “You first,” she said.

  “Last night was more than a passing fancy with me, Mary Ann. I want to be with you, to hold you in my arms and make love to you, to see you as much as possible.”

  Mary Ann laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Does all that hilarity mean yes or no?” Bill puffed his pipe, watching her, his face unreadable.

  “I’ve been sitting here on this rock trying to think of ways to proposition you.” Fresh gales of laughter struck her. “It’s just too funny,” she said, gasping.

  When her laughter had subsided she said seriously, “No strings attached, Bill. I like my life just the way it is, and when this retreat is over, I’ll go back to Sunday Cove and you’ll go back to Mountain City. Agreed?”

  “Lady, you drive a hard bargain.” He puffed on his pipe. “What if I don’t agree to your terms, Mary Ann?”

  She hadn’t expected that.

  “What if I say,” he continued, “that my life isn’t cut and dried. I always leave the door open to other possibilities. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and I don’t want to know.”

  “Are you turning me down?” She was starting to feel miffed and more than a little mortified.

  “No. I did the asking, remember?” He smiled that melt-an-ice-maiden smile, and she wanted to kick something. “I’m just not agreeing to your terms.”

  She sprang up from her rock and kicked up a clump of dirt. With long strides she walked to the stream and stood looking over the water. Now what?

  She turned around and looked back at him, standing beside the rock smoking his pipe. You’d never know that this mild-mannered man had unleashed feelings she’d never had with Harvey.

  Harvey’s lovemaking had been perfunctory, a routine for satisfying his own needs. And while his needs came often and were demanding, he had never touched that deep part of herself she called her soul.

  And she knew that she had to have Bill. For one week only, she would gamble that there would be no “other possibilities.” She told herself that her need for Bill was purely physical, and she had every confidence that she would be in complete control of the situation.

  She marched up to him and unconsciously tilted her chin upward.

  “All right, Bill. But I want you to know something first.”

  “What is that, Mary Ann?”

  “I don’t go around having affairs. You’re the first since—” She bit her lip.

  “Harvey?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought so. Come here.” Reaching out, he took pulled her close and looked directly into her eyes. “I won’t hurt you, Mary Ann. I’ll never hurt you. I promise.”

  She caught a glimpse of those other possibilities - Bill by the hearth with his pipe and slippers. Bill in the backyard with the boys and a baby girl with his laughing dark eyes. Bill in her big brass bed on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

  “The thought never entered my mind,” she said. “This is just an adult affair, no strings attached.”

  “I see that I’ve tangled with a very independent lady.” His smile was open and genuine. “How about helping me carry this gear back to camp, independent lady?”

 
“Naturally,” she agreed as she took her sleeping bag. “You’re the one who told me it’s every man for himself.”

  “I’m so glad you agree. Camp is just ten miles away.”

  “Ten miles?”

  “Just kidding, Goldilocks.” He led her away from the stream. “Actually, camp is just a half mile away. You weren’t far from the trail.”

  “Bill!” she said accusingly. “We could have walked back to camp last night, couldn’t we?”

  “We could have, but I’m glad we didn’t. Aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” She grinned impishly. “Just think. If we had gone back, we would have missed that screech owl.”

  o0o

  The other birders returned to camp soon after Bill and Mary Ann arrived. Sally immediately sought out Mary Ann, and didn’t stop talking once she found her.

  “Otho and I found a secluded spot in the woods to watch birds. He’s the most fascinating man I’ve ever met. Did you know that he plays the cello? He’s also a wonderful singer. You should have heard him singing in the moonlight, serenading me. He sang “Let Me Call You Sweetheart” and “By the Light of the Silvery Moon.” Isn’t that the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?”

  Sally was sitting on Mary Ann’s sleeping bag inside her tent. Mary Ann was only partially listening to Sally’s nonstop conversation. Her mind was on Bill and the contented-cat way he had made her feel. She could hardly wait for tonight. She would be meeting him in his tent for a rendezvous. They had both agreed that their affair should be discreet.

  “Otho sounds like a wonderful man, Sally,” Mary Ann said when Sally stopped to take a breath. “I had a feeling he was right for you.”

  “And what about you?” Sally’s bright eyes peered closely at Mary Ann. “Did Bill find you?”

  “Yes.” Mary Ann hoped her face was as straight as she meant it to be.

  “I knew he was looking for you. In fact, I have a confession. I was the one who told him you didn’t go on the overnight retreat.”

  “That’s okay, Sally.”

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  “Sally, I could never be mad at you. You’re the most openly honest, openly caring person I’ve ever met.”

  “Well, for Pete’s sake, Mary Ann! Tell me what happened.”

  “What do you mean?” Mary Ann was definitely having a hard time playing it straight. She didn’t want to tell Sally a fib, but she didn’t want to tell her the details, either.

  “Do I have to tell you about the birds and the bees? For goodness’ sake, girl! Bill is a gorgeous hunk of man and you’re a free, unattached woman!”

  “Oh, that.” Mary Ann laughed. “I was glad to see Bill. I enjoy his company.” Boy! What an understatement. “Tell me more about Otho.”

  Sally was easily diverted. She winked at Mary Ann. “I can see that not everybody is as talkative as I am. Back to Otho...” She rattled on about her blossoming romance until almost suppertime.

  Over the meal of roast beef, Sally picked up the conversation where she had left off. Mary Ann was genuinely interested in her new friend and glad she had found someone who appreciated her. She was also glad that the conversation was so easily steered away from the subject of her relationship with Bill.

  She returned to her tent after supper and read for a while. Although she held her book right side up, she still had a hard time concentrating. She kept glancing at her watch.

  Maybe another shower would help the time pass quickly.

  She made her way to the bathhouse, showered then slathered herself with jasmine perfume. Back in her tent, she switched on her lantern and glanced at her watch. She had used up only thirty minutes.

  Resolutely, she turned back to her book. The minutes crawled by and at last it was nearly eleven, their agreed-on rendezvous time. She crept from her tent and gazed around, adjusting her eyes to the cloudy, moonless night. Her sheer white nightgown billowed around her as she started in the direction of Bill’s tent.

  There it was, ahead of her in a stand of pine trees. She glided through the night toward it. Quietly, she lifted the flap and began to crawl inside.

  Why didn’t Bill have his lantern on?

  “Is that you?” came out of the darkness.

  “Yes,” she whispered back.

  “I thought you’d never get here.”

  “Me too.” She couldn’t see a thing. “Why are we whispering?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know,” he said aloud. “I can hardly wait to sink my teeth into your hot buns.”

  Mary Ann stopped crawling along the tent floor. Sink his teeth into her buns?

  “Bill?”

  “Sally?”

  “Sally?” She nearly screamed. “Bill? Is that you?”

  “Otho.” His voice was dejected.

  “Otho! Good grief. I’m in the wrong tent.”

  Mary Ann started crawling backward out of the tent, her face flaming.

  “Wait,” Otho said. “Is that you, Mary Ann?”

  She stopped. “Yes.”

  “I have to explain.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanations, Otho.”

  “About the buns, I mean.”

  “Oh.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear about the buns.

  “Sally talked the cooks into letting her use the kitchen after supper. She’s bringing me some of her famous hot cross buns.” Otho’s voice became animated as he talked about Sally. “She’s a wonderful woman, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “You won’t tell anybody, will you, Mary Ann? About Sally coming to my tent, I mean. She’s a fine woman, and I don’t want to besmirch her reputation. “

  “Indeed not,” Mary Ann agreed heartily. “I’ll keep your secret if you’ll keep mine.”

  “My lips are sealed.” She could tell he was smiling. “I never even heard you say ‘Bill.’ “

  “Thanks, Otho. Enjoy the buns.”

  She crawled out of the tent and stood up. Good grief. Where was Bill’s tent? She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. She’d have to go back to where the path forked and start all over.

  The billowy white fabric whipped around her in the night wind as she crept along the path, peering in all directions. She was shivering in the cool air and almost turned back toward her own tent. This whole plan was insane, anyhow. Getting involved with Bill, even for a brief affair, was only asking for trouble.

  Just as she was turning away from the path that led to Bill’s tent, she smelled pipe tobacco. The aromatic smoke wafted from the tent and drifted toward her on the breeze. She smiled. The cozy smell was unmistakably Bill’s pipe.

  She forgot all her reasons for not getting involved. She forgot Otho and the hot cross buns. She forgot the goose bumps on her arms. She forgot everything except the joy of seeing Bill.

  Lifting his tent flap, she stuck her head inside. “Bill?”

  He was sitting in the soft glow of his lantern smoking his pipe. A smile played about his lips. “Yes, Mary Ann. I’ve been waiting.”

  Seeing him there, Mary Ann felt suddenly shy, like a schoolgirl on her first date.

  He rose to his knees and reached out to take her hand. “You’re much too far away.” He pulled her down beside her and settled her in the cradle of his arms. “You’re shivering. Here. Let me warm you.”

  “I guess I should have worn a coat.”

  She peered at him from under lowered lashes. He looked good enough to eat. Still, a strange reluctance had overtaken her.

  He cupped her chin in one hand, drawing her face toward his. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” What else could she say? That she shouldn’t be having this affair with him, but she couldn’t tell him why because she didn’t understand it herself?

  “Mary Ann. Look at me.” He gently lifted her head so that she would look into his eyes. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to. We’ll just be together and talk if you like.”

  Her wide eyes searched his face. “You must think I’m craz
y after the way I practically attacked you and then propositioned you in the woods.”

  “Not crazy. Wonderful. Delicious. Adorable. But never crazy.”

  “That’s one of the things I like best about you, Bill, your kindness.”

  He laughed. “Maybe I’m not just being kind. Maybe I have an ulterior motive.”

  “Such as?”

  He playfully nipped at her neck. “Having you for supper, my dear,” he growled.

  She joined his laughter, then stopped. A brief shadow flitted across her eyes. Why couldn’t it have been like this with Harvey? Open and honest and trusting. Trusting, most of all. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think of Harvey, tried not to let him intrude. She hated him for popping up at the most inopportune times.

  “Mary Ann?” Bill looked closely at her face. “I think we should take a walk.” His words were so casual, spoken with such ease, that he might have been suggesting a stroll down Main Street in broad daylight instead of a trek into the woods at midnight. Reaching behind her, he grabbed his wool sweater. “Here. Put this on.”

  She donned the sweater, thankful for the small activity that would keep her from looking at Bill. Her hands fumbled with the buttons.

  “Let me do that.” His hands felt warm and capable as they fastened the buttons. He turned off the lantern and led her from the tent. “There’s something I want to show you.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise. You must be very quiet.”

  Obediently, she followed him into the darkened forest. The only sound was the scrunch of leaves under their feet. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Mary Ann saw that they had entered a small clearing.

  Bill pointed and said, “There. Do you see them?”

  She squinted her eyes but could see nothing except twigs and leaves and small scrub bushes. “What?” she whispered.

  Putting his hands on either side of her head, he turned her so that she was looking in the right direction.

  “Over there is a group of whippoorwills feeding. They’re brown like the forest floor, so you have to look carefully.”

  Unconsciously, she cuddled her face into the gentle hands. They were hands made for trusting. Finally she began to discern shapes, small bodies hovering near the ground.