Will Stoltz turned the key to the vacant storefront and felt a wave of disappointment. This place was a wreck: dirty and dingy, musty-smelling, in need of fresh paint and a serious airing out. He frowned. It was his own fault for not making the time to get down to Stoney Ridge to see this property before he agreed to the lease. To a year’s lease, paid in advance, wiping out his savings.
He flicked on the light switch and, of course, the lights didn’t go on. He walked through the empty rooms—the front of the store, the two back rooms. No, not “store.” Center. It was the new site of the Stoney Ridge Wild Bird Rescue Center and he was the director. And the veterinarian. And the fundraiser. And the janitor. Basically, he was it.
Naturally, his father thought he was a fool to turn down lucrative offers in established practices to start his own nonprofit center. Why Stoney Ridge, of all places? his father had bellowed. His mother only smiled, in that old soul way she had.
If Will wanted to make a go of a wild bird rescue center in the state of Pennsylvania, he explained to his father, this rural village was the place to be. The Audubon Society had acknowledged the area as a spot where endangered bird populations were rebounding. Lancaster County overflowed with ponds and creeks that made it home to all kinds of fascinating birds, including falcons and eagles.
Stoney Ridge also abounded with Amish, who were sensitive to the welfare of birds and kept eco-friendly farms. Each spring, Amos Lapp of Windmill Farm plowed his fields around nesting bobolinks. Will had a soft spot for the Amish when he stayed on Windmill Farm after being banished from college for a semester. That spring was a turning point for Will to become his own man. Separate from his father but at peace with him. Most of the time, anyway.
Stoney Ridge was also the place where Will’s mother had found healing from a broken body. A broken heart too. His parents’ marriage mended while she stayed at the Inn at Eagle Hill, run by the Schrock family.
And last but not least, Stoney Ridge was where Jackie Colombo lived. Will had the strangest feeling when he first met Jackie, a bounce in his soul; he was certain he’d met a like-minded partner. There was an instant bond between them, a powerful attraction. He couldn’t forget her. He couldn’t find her either.
Jackie was a country vet whom Will had met six months ago at the Inn at Eagle Hill, on a quick trip to visit his mother. They exchanged emails about vet-related topics, and soon the emails became a little more lengthy, a little more personal. In one email, Will broached the idea of starting a wild bird rescue center in Stoney Ridge and Jackie responded immediately, thrilled with the idea. She was the one who gave him the link to this rental property.
But then he plunged headfirst into final exams and didn’t contact Jackie for over a week. When he came up for air and emailed her, she didn’t respond. Graduation came, then state boards for Pennsylvania so he could get licensed. He figured he’d better get the exam out of the way while everything was still fresh in his mind. Assuming he’d passed, and he had, it would give him choices too. He hadn’t made a final decision about starting the bird center, but Stoney Ridge was tugging at him.
After the state board exam, Will emailed Jackie again, but still no reply. She wasn’t on Facebook or LinkedIn, she wasn’t listed in any directory. He called the vet clinic where she worked and tried to leave a message, but the receptionist was the frosty type and wouldn’t give out any information. She only said Jackie no longer worked there. He asked if they could relay a message to Jackie, but the receptionist shut that down. What more could he do? He was starting to sound like a stalker, even to himself. He berated himself for not getting her phone number—but email had been working well for them. He thought they had plenty of time ahead of them to get better acquainted.
His mother was the one who encouraged him to pursue his dream to start a wild bird rescue center. “What do you have to lose?” she told him. “If you don’t give this center a try, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. And if you don’t follow up with Jackie, you’ll always wonder if she was the one who got away.”
“Despite how Dad feels about it?” Will asked her. “He’s barely gotten over the fact that I’m a vet and not a surgeon following in his footsteps.” Will’s father cast a rather large shadow.
“Oh, he’ll be upset for a while. But he’s a bird lover at heart.”
And so he packed up, moved to Stoney Ridge with two suitcases, and the key to his new dream.
The clip-clop of a horse and buggy down Main Street jolted Will out of his muse. He stared at it for a while, admiring the high step of the Thoroughbred. He grinned. He’d never seen a buggy horse that didn’t act like it was having the time of its life. Beyond the horse, Will noticed the Sweet Tooth Bakery. Why, it was practically across the street from the center! Jackie was right—this place was an ideal location. If days were slow, he could head over and get one of those unforgettable cinnamon rolls. Once word spread about his center, he doubted he would ever have a slow day.
He walked through each room again, footsteps echoing. He straightened an old leftover schoolhouse clock hanging cockeyed on the wall and was surprised to see how late it was. Surprised the clock battery was still working too.
He leaned his back against the front door, fighting the feeling that he had made a huge mistake. “Oh, Lord, bless this . . . endeavor.”
Will had a habit of cautious prayer. He believed in God but found he was a little suspicious of him. He was afraid that anything more than a polite acquaintance might result in God changing him in ways he wouldn’t like and asking him to do things he didn’t want to do. That could happen.
Someday, Will might investigate faith a little more thoroughly, but for now, a healthy respect for the Almighty suited him well. And it couldn’t hurt to ask for a little help with this center. He felt scared to death. And thrilled too. Tomorrow, the life of the Stoney Ridge Wild Bird Rescue Center would begin.
He locked the door and drove out to the Inn at Eagle Hill.
As Will pulled into the driveway of the Inn at Eagle Hill and came to a stop, he paused, absorbing the view of the farm. It was November, the sun was setting in the west, and the stark trees that framed the ridgeline along the back of the farmhouse looked like they were practically lit on fire. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. He took a picture on his iPhone and sent it to his mother. Of all people, she would appreciate this setting. She had stayed at the inn last spring and hadn’t seen it at this time of year.
He noticed two Amish boys on the porch, crouched with their bottoms high and their heads against the floorboards, peering through the cracks.
“What are you looking for?” Will said as he walked toward the farmhouse.
The younger boy popped his head up in surprise. He grabbed his black hat and jammed it on. “There’s a bird stuck under the porch.”
The older boy leaned back on his knees, taking Will in, sizing him up. “I know you. Your mother’s stayed here.”
“That’s right. I’m Will Stoltz. My mother is Delia Stoltz.” He put out his hand for a shake. “I don’t remember your names, though.”
“I’m Luke and this is Sammy.” A shuffling sound underneath the deck drew his attention back to the bird. “We’ve been stuffing sunflower seeds down through the cracks. Something’s wrong with the bird.”
Will crouched down to listen. The bird was alive, scuffling through leaves and dirt for the seeds. He peered through a crack and thought it was hopping strangely, as if its legs were glued or tied together. “Is there a way to get under the porch?”
Luke jumped to his feet and hopped off the porch. “You’d have to yank off the trellis and knock down the roses. Mammi Vera would singe our tail feathers if we did it, but she might not be as mad if you were to do it.”
Will grinned. “Maybe we should ask first.”
From the surprised look on Luke’s face, it was obvious such a thought never occurred to him. Will recognized that kind of thinking. “Is your mother around?”
“No. Mom and Mammi Vera are over at Windmill Farm. They’ll be back before dark.”
“Well, then, I’ll have to take responsibility for this rescue. Can you bring me a hammer and a clean rag? And a flashlight. And nails, too, to replace the trellising.”
The boys ran to the barn, Luke galloping ahead of Sammy, as Will looked for a place to pull off the trellis without disturbing the rosebushes that lined the porch’s foundation.
Windmill Farm, Luke had said. Will’s thoughts drifted to the months he had spent there as an intern for the game commissioner. He was sent to babysit a nesting falcon pair and ended up mostly flirting with Sadie Lapp, Amos Lapp’s middle daughter. He had heard that Sadie had married the bumbling schoolteacher, Gideon Smucker. Will shook his head, amazed at Sadie’s choice, though he knew his own nascent romance with Sadie was over before he left Windmill Farm. Too much separated them—Sadie loved being Amish, and while Will admired the Amish, he could never fully embrace the Plain life. He liked his creature comforts, his many choices, and he believed in higher education. He could never give up his car, Sunday afternoon football games, electricity, air travel. No—fond as he was of Sadie, and as much as he had learned from her about the important things in life that spring, he wasn’t ever going to convert. If he were completely honest, deep down, he knew Sadie had a bond with Gideon that went deeper than the one she had with Will. He knew that from the start.
The two boys came roaring back from the barn, one with a hammer and flashlight, the other with a rag and a fistful of nails, startling Will back to the crisis at hand. With the claw of the hammer, he pulled and yanked the trellis off the porch. He peered underneath and saw the bird, a pigeon, huddled near a support beam. He scooted toward the bird and covered it with the rag, then grabbed it and scooted back out into the light. Will found the bird’s feet were stuck together with black, hard tar that also covered its legs. “How did this happen?”
Luke peered anxiously at the bird’s feet. “Workers were tarring the road yesterday.”
“It must have landed where some warm tar had been put down and then the tar dried,” Will said. “If you have a place where I can work, I’ll try to get the tar off.”
“There’s an empty stall in the barn,” Luke said.
“Good idea. Then it won’t try to fly away.” Though there was tar on some feathers too, so it couldn’t fly. He would need to cut some feathers in the process, but if he would get the tar removed, it had a chance of survival.
The barn door was slightly open—about a foot or two. Will gave it a shove and it rolled open. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Dust particles floated through a beam of hazy sunlight coming in from a window. Soft nickering began from the horses in their stalls as he walked down the main aisle to an empty stall.
“Can you boys bring me dish soap from your kitchen? And a bucket of warm water? And get my medical kit out of the back of my car.”
Will proceeded to gently work until he had removed almost all the tar that glued the bird’s feet together. It was a slow job, too slow for the younger boy, who brought a bucket of warm water, watched for a moment, and then lost interest. But the older boy, Luke, stayed right by Will’s side during the entire process. Will was able to free its feet and get most of the tar off its feathers. He had to cut a few feathers in the process. “I think that’s all it can handle for now,” he told Luke. “Tomorrow, I’ll work a little more on it.”
“Will the bird be all right?” Luke asked.
“It’ll take some time before it’s ready for release, but I think it’s going to be okay.”
Just then, he heard the sound of a horse and buggy pull up the driveway. “That’ll be my mom and grandmother.” Luke tilted his head. “Why are you here, anyhow?”
“I’m staying at the inn.”
Luke smiled and Will realized it was the first time he had seen him smile. “Good. You can make sure the bird survives.”
As Will and Luke got bird feed and water set up for the pigeon in the empty stall, Rose brought the horse into the barn and handed the reins to Luke. “Would you take off Flash’s bridle and harness and check his feet? Rub down his legs.”
“Mom, this is Will Stoltz. He’s staying in the guest house.”
Rose smiled. “I remember. We’ve been expecting you.”
“He saved a bird.” Luke told her the whole story about the bird, then took Flash down the aisle to the cross ties. When he took the bridle off and went into the tack room, Rose turned to Will. “I haven’t seen him look so pleased in quite some time.”
“He was a fine helper to me. Very interested in birds.”
“Your mother said you’re going to start a wild bird rescue center in Stoney Ridge.”
“That’s right. I’ve got a location rented and hope to open the doors soon. I just need to get some medical supplies, flight cages, start spreading the word . . . and then wait . . . for a storm during migration or a man-made or natural disaster . . . and voilà! Birds in distress.”
She smiled. “Well, one thing at a time.”
“When my mother was staying here, there was an eagle aerie. Any chance the eagles are still here?”
“They are! They had one eaglet but it died. You’ll see the eagles at dawn and dusk, circling the creek for fish. Their nest is up high, in a tree above the creek. The size of a small barn.”
Will grinned. “If they’re still here, I suspect you’ll see another eaglet or two in the clutch next year. Maybe three, the year after that.”
“Really? Oh, I hope so. Mr. and Mrs. Eagle are the reason we named the farm ‘The Inn at Eagle Hill.’ ”
“If they’re still here, it means they like it.”
As they walked out into the light, he asked, “Rose, do you ever happen to see Jackie Colombo, a vet? I met her here, that time when Luke scaled the tree and the eagle tried to dive-bomb him.”
Rose stopped. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Jackie in quite some time. We haven’t had need of a vet for a while. I could call the vet’s office and find out if she’s still there.”
“No, no. That’s not necessary.”
“Hank Lapp might know. He gets around town. You could ask him the next time he drops by. I’ll introduce you.”
“No need. We’ve met.” Will remembered Hank Lapp. Who could ever forget him? He was a dead ringer for the wild-eyed scientist in Back to the Future. Hank might be his best shot at knowing where Jackie had gone, but the thought of listening to Hank ramble on, from one subject to another, was discouraging. Where had Jackie gone? What had happened to her?
But one cheerful thought occurred to him. He had saved his first patient. A pigeon.
Will walked into the guest flat at Eagle Hill and lay down on the spindle bed for just a moment, planning to unpack before he went to bed. The next thing he knew, a rooster crowed loudly. His eyes flew open as he tried to remember where he was before a wave of sleep pulled him back under. A moment later, the sun was streaming through the window and the sound of two little boys, calling out to each other in Penn Dutch, woke him a second time. He rubbed his eyes, yawned, as a knock came on the door. He opened it to find a bespectacled teenaged girl at the door, holding a breakfast tray. She had a vaguely anxious air. “Were you still asleep?” She seemed mystified that anyone could sleep past seven.
Will looked down at his rumpled clothes. “No. Yes. I was, but I didn’t mean to oversleep.”
He caught a whiff of rich coffee and wondered what else was under the red checkered napkin. He opened the door widely so the girl could come through. She set the breakfast tray on the small table in the kitchen.
“My mother always makes new guests her blueberry cornbread.”
She pulled off the red checkered cloth and Will’s eyes went wide. There was freshly squeezed orange juice, a carafe of coffee, scrambled eggs, thick cut bacon, crispy fried potatoes, and a large chunk of sweet cornbread sprinkled with blueberries. Enough food to last him for the day.
“You can leave the tray outside your door when you’re done. I’ll pick it up before I leave for school.”
“Hey, thanks. I’m Will Stoltz, by the way.”
“I know.”
“Who are you?”
“Mim.” She turned at the door. “Mom said you were wondering about the lady vet. She got hurt in an accident and had to leave the vet clinic at Stoney Ridge.”
Will’s head jerked up. “What kind of accident?”
“Something was wrong with her hand. I saw her in town one day when her hand was all bandaged up. Maybe a horse stepped on it.” She wiggled her hands. “I asked her what she was going to do about her doctoring with a banged-up hand and she said, for now, she was thinking about Plan B.” Mim spun around and slipped out the door.
Will sat down at the table, a little shaken. Massively disappointed. He ate a few bites of the eggs, his mind stuck on Jackie. Fool, he said to himself. I’m such a fool. He hadn’t been honest with himself about how much of his decision to move to Stoney Ridge was influenced by his attraction to Jackie Colombo. She was a beautiful girl who shared his love for animals. Even birds!
As he chewed on a bite of smoky, crisp bacon, he smiled, a little wryly. Being here was his Plan B.
Will knew all about Plan Bs. His life had been set on course by his father, Charles Stoltz, for as long as he could remember: an Ivy League college, medical school, internship, and a specialization in neuroscience. And everything was on track, on schedule with Plan A, until Will’s last semester of college.
In an act of complete stupidity that some might call passive-aggressive defiance, Will had gotten himself suspended from school. It was the worst time in Will’s life, and also the best.
His father “volunteered” him to be an intern for a game commissioner, and Will found himself exiled at Windmill Farm, home to an Amish family, babysitting a falcon couple and protecting them from overeager bird lovers. That spring had a profound effect on Will. Instead of medical school, Will chose vet school. And now, instead of accepting a comfortable, safe position at an established vet clinic, Will chose to start up a nonprofit wild bird rescue center.
He glanced at his watch. Nearly eight. He wolfed down the last few bites of the blueberry cornbread. His first day at the center and he was already running late.
Will expected the center to have a slow start—in fact, he even hoped it would be slow. He spent long days cleaning, scrubbing the walls and floors, giving it a fresh coat of paint, contacting vendors for equipment and medical supplies and waiting for things to be delivered. Plus he still needed to look for donors. He was planning to apply for grants but the center would rely on donations.
After the tedious work of setting up the center, Will was pleasantly surprised when he received a call to rescue an injured snowy owl. He had a cardboard sign up in the center’s window, but that was as much publicity as he’d had time to create. When he reached the farm where the owl was found, he discovered it had a broken wing. He took it back to the center and placed a splint on the wing, grateful he’d received a shipment of small flight cages that morning. When he realized he didn’t have food supplies for an owl, he thought of the barn at Eagle Hill and asked Luke Schrock to catch mice to feed the owl. He paid him a nickel a mouse.
Eleven-year-old Luke appeared at the center each afternoon, as soon as school let out, claiming he wanted to check on the pigeon. The pigeon was ready for release within a week’s time, so Will and Luke went out to the ridge behind Eagle Hill late one afternoon and opened the cage. The bird hopped about a moment, pecked at the ground, then stilled and cocked its head when it heard the cooing sound of another pigeon. It flew leisurely away and disappeared behind the ridge.
Pleased with themselves, Will and Luke sat on a rock to watch the sunset.
“Look,” Luke said, pointing to bulky stick nests, high in a tree.
“Well, how about that,” Will said, filled with awe. “It’s a rookery. Those nests are great blue heron nests.” It occurred to him that Blue Lake Pond wasn’t far away, not as the crow flies. Fish was the favorite food of herons; that tree was a perfect site for a breeding colony.
“Don’t they migrate?”
“Most birds do migrate, but the ones that can survive on berries or nuts often stay put during winter. Herons will usually stick around as long as creeks and ponds don’t freeze over.” Will stretched out his legs. “Luke, how would you like to help me with the Audubon Christmas Bird Count this December?”
Luke hesitated. “On Christmas Day?”
Will grinned. “No. I wouldn’t do that to you. During a few weeks in December and January, volunteers help to count up the birds and collect data for scientists to use.”
“Why do they need to count the number of birds?”
“The count began way back in 1900. Holiday hunts used to be a popular pastime—but hunters left piles of bird and animal carcasses littered across the country. So the National Audubon Society protested holiday hunts with the first Christmas Bird Count. Today, the Count helps scientists understand how birds react to short-term weather events. They use the data to predict bird population and behavior.”
“Why do they need to predict stuff?”
“Well, birds and insects are the first part of the ecosystem. If a species is in trouble, it will eventually head up the food chain to reach humans. Imagine a world without honey from bees, for example.” Will watched the smaller eagle, the male, return with a fish in those powerful claws and soar back to its gigantic nest made of sticks, lined with grass and moss. Amazing, just amazing.
Luke’s eyes were on Will. “You need to explain all that Bird Count stuff to my mom,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “If she says I can go, I guess I could.” He rose and started down the hill, Will following behind.
Luke’s curiosity about birds pleased Will. Earlier today, Rose had brought breakfast to the guest flat and said she hoped Luke wasn’t a nuisance for him. Will assured her that Luke was helping him fix up the center and he was good company.
Rose confessed she’d been worried about her son—he’d been getting into trouble at school lately and starting fights with older boys. “It seems as if he doesn’t care about anything. But he does love birds.”
Will knew, from his mother’s friendship with Rose, that Luke’s father had died the year before. The boy reminded him of himself at that age: bright, capable, a quick trigger temper, and sorely needing a man’s attention. Luke, he thought, could go down the wrong path pretty easily, just as he had. But his love of birds might keep him on the right track, as it had for Will. Birds had called him back and set him straight.
Will found an apartment within walking distance to the center, but it wouldn’t be available until the first of January. Rose assured him he’d be welcome to stay in the guest flat through December and gave him a weekly rate. It was overly generous, but he knew she was grateful for the attention he was giving Luke. When he described the Christmas Bird Count to her, explaining that he wanted to take Luke with him, she practically hugged him.
“I’ve heard about it,” she said. “In the Budget, I’ve read of some Amish teens in Ohio who ride bicycles to count the birds.” She bit her lip. “Lancaster Amish don’t ride bicycles, only scooters.”
Will grinned. “I was planning to use my car.” He folded his arms against his chest. “I’d take Sammy, but I think he’s a little young.”
“That’s fine,” Rose said, grinning from ear to ear. “Luke’s the one who loves the birds.” From that day on, she insisted Will join them for supper each night, and packed an enormous lunch for him each day.
Later that week, she brought him a breakfast tray with enough food to feed two people. Maybe three. “Rose, you’re being too kind to me. I want to pay you for this extra food.”
She wouldn’t hear of it. “What you’re doing for Luke . . . it’s payment enough.”
“He earns his keep. He helps clean out bird cages and sweeps the floor and takes out garbage and catches mice. I should start paying him.”
She smiled. “He’s getting something much more important than money could ever give him.”
Early one morning, Will was startled out of a sound sleep by a banging on his door. “Will! Will! It’s the eagle. It’s dead!”
Will jumped out of bed and jammed his feet into his boots. He grabbed his coat and opened the door. “What happened?”
Luke was hysterical. “I went to feed the sheep in the pasture this morning and wondered why they were all huddled in a corner. Then I saw a lump in the middle of the field. It was one of my eagles, lying there, dead!”
“Take a deep breath and calm down. I want you to show me where the eagle is, but you need to be calm. It might not be dead and you don’t want to scare it.”
Will grabbed some supplies from his car, a blanket, and his medical bag, and followed Luke out to the field. When they got to the eagle, he made Luke stand back. He picked up a stick and gently poked it, relieved to see an eye blink. He walked back to Luke. “It’s not dead. But it’s limp and near death. We need to get him to the center so I can examine him. Can you help?”
Luke nodded.
“Spread the blanket out on the ground near the eagle, but remember, stay calm and move slowly.” Will put his thick gloves and protective glasses on. “I’m going to move the eagle onto the blanket.” He gently lifted the eagle onto the blanket, covered it, and carried it to his car. Luke followed on his heels.
He knew Luke wanted to stay with the eagle. “You need to get to school. I’m going to do everything I can to save the eagle. You can stop by after school.”
Luke dropped his chin to his chest. “It’s dying, ain’t it?”
“I don’t know. But if this eagle has a chance at all, it’ll be because of you.”
“Bet it’ll die.”
Will sped to the center, hoping no cops were making their rounds. At the center, he set the eagle on the table and examined it. Immediately, he found the problem. He pulled a piece of rancid meat out of the eagle’s beak. It smelled of poison—possibly a carcass of a euthanized farm animal or a poisoned mouse. He gave the eagle antibiotics and an IV of fluids. As he examined the eagle, a male, he judged it to be just reaching maturity—the white head and tail feathers didn’t come in until an eagle was four or five years old. He examined each wing to make sure nothing was broken—powerful wings that rarely flapped, mostly soared. His gloved hand ran down each leg to those claws that could snatch a fish out of a lake or river or creek. Its yellow hooked beak could tear apart carrion. Satisfied that he had ruled out any injuries, he lifted the eagle into the flight cage and stood watching it. He took some close-up pictures for his files. It felt strange to be so close to such a majestic bird. Strange and wonderful. It filled him with awe.
He realized he was still in his pajamas and drove back to Eagle Hill for a quick change. These were the moments when he wished he had a partner. Someday, he hoped.
Rose saw his car and hurried out to meet him before he disappeared into the guest flat. She handed him a brown sack of food. “I made enough for breakfast and lunch for you.” She didn’t want to ask, but the worry in her eyes gave her away.
“The eagle is still alive. Looks like he ate something that was poisonous. I should know if he’s going to make it within a few hours.”
“Those eagles . . . they’re very important to us. To Luke, especially.”
“I know.” He hesitated. “If the eagle doesn’t survive, I’ll leave a message on your phone so you can tell Luke. I don’t want him to drop by the center and find out that way.”
Rose dropped her eyes. “No. If the eagle doesn’t make it, Luke should hear it from you. He knows you will have done everything you could for it. He knows that God is in control of all things, including eagles.” She lifted her head. “I’m praying, though. Praying the eagle will survive.”
As Will drove back to the center, he pondered Rose’s comment. He felt that familiar stirring in his soul that happened whenever he spent time among the Amish. The belief that God’s hand was on all parts of life, that he would bring good from all things—it infused the way they thought, the way they took in circumstances and experiences.
Take the Schrock family, for instance. They had weathered a terrible blow when Rose’s husband died in a drowning accident last year, complicated by the family investment company being under investigation by the SEC for wrongdoing. The oldest son in the family, Tobe, was serving time in jail for withholding evidence. And still, they believed that God would bring good from that big mess. And what a mess!
His thoughts traveled to Luke. He wondered how much of Luke’s tough-guy attitude, masking his neediness, was affected by his father’s untimely death. He had no idea what Dean Schrock was like, but if he was anything like his own father—busy with work, distracted when he wasn’t at work—Luke would have been left with many confused and frustrated feelings. Will felt grateful that he had time with his father to get past most of that, to start carving a relationship with him that was healthy. They had come a long way from where they were at Luke’s age. He decided he would call his father later today and tell him about the eagle. If it survived.
He pulled his car to the back of the center and hurried inside, hoping, hoping, hoping the eagle was still alive. He went through the hallway and into the room that held the flight cages. There, to his surprise, was the eagle, standing. He had rallied! He was looking around the cage as if he wasn’t quite sure what had happened or where he was.
Will leaned against the wall, relieved, ecstatic, eager for Luke to get out of school. He sat on the ground, watching the eagle gain back strength—moving around a little, making squeaking noises—as he ate both the breakfast and lunch Rose had packed him. He knew there would be winners and losers in this work, that he wouldn’t be able to save every bird, but he was elated that this particular patient could be saved.
Two days later, Luke burst into the Wild Bird Rescue Center during his lunch hour. “I found out something about Jackie Colombo.”
Will’s head jerked up. “You’re supposed to be at school.” He cleared his throat. “What did you hear?”
“I heard that she’d been shot. In the stomach. Fifteen times.”
“What?!” Will was horrified. And skeptical. “Where’d you hear that?”
“A seventh grader.”
Will tried not to roll his eyes. “Any idea where he heard it?”
Luke squinted his eyes, trying to remember. “Not sure. I’ll ask him.”
“Wouldn’t something like a gunshot have made the news?”
“Unless whoever shot her wanted to keep it quiet. Maybe it was a botched robbery and the thief got away but threatened her to keep quiet.” Luke shrugged. “She must be dead. Who could survive fifteen gunshots to the gut?”
Will scowled. “Did you hear anything else? Any idea where she is now?”
The disappearance of Jackie Colombo kept getting stranger.
As soon as Luke went back to school, Will walked down to the Stoney Ridge Times newspaper office and spoke to the features editor, a portly, unpleasant man who reeked of stale cigarette smoke. Will had been hoping the paper might do an article on the center, so he’d been planning to introduce himself, but first he wanted to find out if the editor had heard of anyone getting shot fifteen times in the stomach.
“Nope,” the editor said, giving Will a look like he might be sun touched.
“Does the name Jackie Colombo ring a bell? She was a local vet.”
“Nope.”
Now the editor’s disdainful look turned impatient, so Will dropped the subject and told him about the center. The editor listened to him, took a few notes, told him that if space opened up, he would run a story on him. “But I need a good bird story,” he said, tapping his pencil on his notepad. “A pigeon with tar won’t cut it.”
“How about the rescue of a poisoned bald eagle?”
The editor’s bushy eyebrows shot up, showing interest for the first time. “That could work.”
Will walked back to the center with a much lighter heart. He felt excited about the chances of getting an article in the newspaper and reaping good exposure for the center. Not so excited, however, that he could forget about Jackie Colombo.
Where was she?
The next day, the weather turned bitterly cold. Late in the afternoon, Luke blew into the center along with a gust of wind. “There’s a robin at the Sisters’ House. We gotta save it!”
Will was skeptical—robins had flown south long ago—but he grabbed his nets, bundled himself up in a parka, and pulled on some mittens. “How far away is it?”
“Just a few blocks from here. We can walk.”
In this biting wind? Driving sounded better to Will, but Luke was already out the door and down the street. Sheesh, these hearty Amish, Will thought, running to keep up. “Who lives in the Sisters’ House?”
“Old sisters. Five of them. They must be over one hundred years old.”
Will slowed, feeling even more skeptical. Old folks tended to see things.
Luke frowned. “Can’t you go any faster? The robin might be dying.”
The wind slapped them in the face as they hurried down Main Street. When they reached the Grange Hall and turned down the road, Luke pointed to an old clapboard house. One of the old sisters was watching from the window and came to the door to meet them.
“Sylvia’s the youngest sister. She’s the one who spotted the robin and told me to get you.” Luke ran up to her. “Don’t you worry! Will is going to save the robin.”
“Oh, I’m so glad,” Sylvia said, shivering in her thin shawl. “It’s been flying into the windows and eating frozen berries in the yard.” She pointed to the bushes where she had last seen the robin and Will sent her inside to stay warm.
Will and Luke hunted around the yard and there it was, a juvenile robin, born last summer. It was in pretty poor shape, barely able to clear the treetops. Will and Luke did everything they could to catch it—one behind and one in front, chasing it from bush to bush, tree to tree—but after an hour, their feet were so cold they couldn’t feel them anymore and it was starting to get dark, so they had to give up. Will knocked on the door to the Sisters’ House. “We simply couldn’t catch the little guy and we’re too cold to continue.”
Clearly disappointed, Sylvia invited them inside to warm up, but Will knew Rose would be worried about Luke. They walked back to the center and Will drove them over to Eagle Hill. Luke was silent all the way home. “We did our best, Luke. But we have to give the robin a chance to settle in for whatever fate lies ahead of him.”
“What are its chances?”
Will knew, with the temperature dropping below zero and high winds forecasted, the robin wouldn’t survive the night. “Not good, Luke.”
Luke turned away from Will and looked out the window. When they got to Eagle Hill, he went inside the house without a word and Will went to the guest flat.
Not ten minutes later, he heard a banging on his door. He opened it to find Luke, standing there, shivering, coatless and hatless. “We chased that bird around all afternoon. He couldn’t eat while we chased him.”
Will hung his head. “You’re right, Luke. He used up what little energy he had.” Despite their best intentions, they had contributed to the unlikely survival of the poor little bird. “You want to go back?”
Luke nodded.
“Do you have any flashlights?”
Luke grinned. “I even have an LED headlight on a helmet.”
“Bring it. Bring as many flashlights as you can find. Bundle up warmly.” Luke sprinted up to the house as Will yelled, “And tell your mother!”
When they got back to the Sisters’ House, the wind was blowing over thirty miles an hour and the temperature had dropped to minus two degrees. They searched the bushes and trees with flashlights for a long time, until Luke caught sight of the robin on the front door of the Sisters’ House. It was so cold that it had lost all concern for its safety and had chosen the shelter of the house. Will walked slowly toward the door and pounced on the robin with his net. The robin startled, then went completely limp. Blast! Did he scare it to death? They drove to the center and placed the robin on a nest of shredded newspapers in a small cage. Luke got worms out of the refrigerator and filled a hamster bottle with water. He watched the robin for a while as Will put the nets away.
Suddenly, Luke shouted for Will to come. “Look!” The robin’s head was up, then shook back and forth. Will and Luke watched, transfixed. Every minute that passed, the robin seemed to improve. When it stood on its feet, Will let out a laugh. “I think it’s going to make it, Luke.”
The next morning, when Will reached the center, he laughed out loud when he saw the robin hopping around the cage. The worms were gone, the water bottle was nearly empty. It might have just been a little robin, but all day long, Will couldn’t hold back a grin whenever he saw it.
The next week brought a string of discouraging situations for Will, one after the other. He arrived one morning to find a cardboard box left at the door. Inside was an unconscious falcon. After examining it, Will saw the falcon had been shot by a BB gun. He operated, removed the BB, did all he could to keep it alive—even staying at the center all night. By dawn, it died.
Falcons were listed as endangered species in the state of Pennsylvania. What particularly grieved Will was that he had banded this very falcon when it was just an eyas. It was during that spring of exile when he was interning for the game commissioner.
A few hours after the falcon death, he got a phone call to come rescue a great blue heron that had been electrocuted when it hit a power line. By the time he arrived at the scene, the great blue heron had died.
By midweek, he’d had more bad news. His father had called to let him know that his graduate school loans were starting to come due. His father had made it clear that if Will chose vet school, he would have to put himself through.
When Will arrived at the center, he found a note taped on the door that the electric company was going to turn off his power if he didn’t pay his bill within the week. Start-up costs for the center had been far more than he had expected. His credit card was maxed out and he’d already bounced a check.
He leaned his forehead against the front door, discouraged. He thought by now that some donations might start to arrive, but that was also naive thinking, he realized. He had done nothing yet to encourage fundraising.
And he still wasn’t any closer to finding Jackie Colombo. He should let it go, but the more he thought about her, the more he longed to find her. He had done an internet search, asked around town, checked at the local hospital, but no one seemed to know where she had gone.
This entire endeavor was harder than he’d thought it would be. In his mind, he thought he was coming to Stoney Ridge like a superhero: saving endangered birds, sweeping Jackie off her feet. The truth was, he spent a lot of time alone in a depressing building with a screechy eagle for company. He was . . . lonely.
He went into the center and checked on his patients: an eagle, an owl, and a robin, wondering if those offers he’d received from some vet clinics after graduation might still be available. He rubbed his face. The thing was, he just didn’t want to take care of pets, or even zoo animals. It was wildlife that called to him.
He heard the front door open and walked out to find Rose Schrock, holding up a brown lunch bag. “You forgot this today. I had some errands to do in town so I thought I’d drop it by.”
“Thank you, Rose. You’ve been very good to me.”
“Your family has been a blessing to us. Your mother’s friendship to me, your father’s skill as a doctor to my mother-in-law. And now you.”
“Me?”
“Letting Luke come alongside you like he’s done. It’s made a world of difference to him. He hasn’t been this excited about something for a long time.”
A horrible high-pitched squeaking sound filled the air. It was the eagle.
Will shook his head. Those earsplitting screeches were starting to give him headaches. “I’ve called a few rehab centers looking for available space in a large flight cage, but so far, I haven’t found any. He’s ready to be transferred.” More than ready.
“Can’t you just release him?”
“I want to be absolutely positive he’s ready to return to the wild. Bald eagles are a threatened species, America’s favorite bird, after all. We can’t be too cautious. But when he is ready for release, I’ll take him back to Eagle Hill so he can rejoin his mate.”
“I hope it’s soon. She seems lonely.”
“I can imagine.”
“No luck finding Jackie Colombo?”
He jerked his head up. “Is it that obvious?”
She shrugged. “You’ve mentioned her once or twice.”
He let out a puff of air. “I think it’s a lost cause.”
Rose walked to the robin’s cage. “Our minister had a particularly thoughtful sermon last Sunday about a couple in the Bible. He spoke of Jacob’s longing for Rachel, that he was willing to work seven years for her, even though a typical dowry would require only two years. But Jacob was head over heels in love. He’d been sent away from his family because he had played a trick on his brother Esau. He was lonely. And Rachel was everything to him. Maybe even too much. His love for her replaced the role God was meant to have in his life.
“Seven years went by and Jacob did marry Rachel, or so he thought. The veils covered the women, you see. In the morning, he discovered that he had married Leah, her sister, whom he didn’t love.”
Will wasn’t quite sure what point she was trying to make. That he should stop pining for Jackie? He tried. He couldn’t.
Rose seemed to read his mind. “Caring for someone is a good thing, but it isn’t meant to be the only thing. The minister reminded us that whenever something or someone is in the place that only God was meant for, our heart’s desire might be for Rachel, but in the morning, we will always find ourselves with Leah.” She walked to the door, put her hand on the handle, and turned back to Will. “Thank you for bringing my boy back to me.”
Will watched Rose get into the buggy and start the horse down the street. Slowly, her message started to sink in. He had turned Jackie Colombo into something she wasn’t. He hardly knew her, and he had pinned a lot of hopes and dreams on her.
Same thing with the center. He arrived in Stoney Ridge thinking he was a rock star, here to single-handedly defend wildlife. He let out a deep breath. I’ve turned this vision of life in Stoney Ridge into “marrying Rachel,” and in the morning, I discovered I “married Leah.”
He looked up at the blue sky, with white puffy clouds scuttling across the expanse, and lifted his hands, palm side up, fingers splayed. “I give up. It’s all yours, Lord. The path I’ve chosen, my career, my life . . . it’s yours.”
He started to turn around when something stopped him. It was a quiet, a deep, restful Presence that he knew was God. The Presence that seemed to surround him and pursue him at the same time, filling him with a bone-deep awareness that he was deeply loved and cared for. In that moment, something seemed to move from Will’s head into his heart: knowledge became belief.
Will would have thought he would feel . . . well, to be honest, almost a dread if he surrendered his life to God. He assumed something would be taken from him. Instead, he felt a sense of freedom and release. A tightness in him loosened like a cut cord.
Filled with joy, energized and invigorated, he went to his desk to start down the list of wildlife rehab centers that were in Pennsylvania, hoping to find space for the eagle. It took six phone calls, but he finally found a wildlife rehab center in east Lancaster with an empty flight cage and made an appointment to deliver the eagle later that afternoon.
His stomach rumbled and he realized it was lunchtime. As he went to get Rose’s lunch from the refrigerator, he heard the door open and in came five elderly Amish women, beaming with happiness. He recognized one—Sylvia—the woman from the Sisters’ House who had wanted to save the robin. “Hello! Did you come to visit your robin?”
Sylvia nodded. “We hoped we could see how he’s doing.”
“He’s right here,” Will said, pointing to a cage on his desk. “Come see for yourselves.”
The five sisters surrounded the robin’s cage, oohing and aahing. It pleased Will to see their delight in something as simple as a robin. He needed to remember this moment. “Will you release him soon?” one sister asked.
“He’s ready,” Will said, “but I’m waiting for the temperature to warm up a little. He might stick around Stoney Ridge or he might fly south to join his cousins. I just want to give him the best chance for survival.”
One sister gave him a shy look. “Not many veterinarians would have cared so much about a little robin.”
“We have something to tell you,” Sylvia said. The other sisters bobbed their black bonneted heads. “We want to help your center. With saving birds. A year ago, our sister Ella—” she pointed to the shy sister— “she was inspired to design a special quilt. We never knew where it should go. After you saved our robin, we had a family discussion and decided the quilt was meant for you. For your work. We’re heading over to the Grange Hall for today’s auction and we’re going to give you the money we receive for it.”
Will was stunned. “That’s not necessary. I certainly appreciate the thought, but I wouldn’t want you to give away something you’ve made.”
“Nonsense,” Sylvia said. “We do it all the time.”
“All the time,” another sister echoed.
“Things aren’t meant to be stuck in a closet, gathering dust, where rust and moths can get at it,” a sister said.
Another sister nodded. “That’s what Bethany Schrock is always telling us, anyway.”
Sylvia held up a large shopping bag. She placed it on Will’s desk and carefully pulled out a tissue-wrapped quilt. Will was speechless. Each block was a different bird—just common backyard birds, made of tiny pieces of fabric that fit together like a mosaic—and in the center, was a sparrow. Down at the bottom was embroidered: “Not even a sparrow shall drop without His knowing.”
“Not even a robin,” Ella said. Her voice trailed off, like a bagpipe leaking air.
“It’s beautiful,” Will said, his voice trembling.
The sisters smiled. “We’ll bring the check for the quilt over to you later this afternoon. You use it any way you need.”
Will’s face grew hot and he felt himself perspire. Oh sheesh . . . he felt his eyes prickle with tears and realized he was going to start welling up. How mortifying! But he was so overwhelmed by the way this morning had turned itself upside down. He would be able to keep the center going for a while, thanks to these kind old sisters and a little lost robin. He had a feeling his life would never be quite the same.
After lunch, Will braced himself to move the eagle into a traveling cage. He put on thick leather elbow-length gloves, wore eye protection, said a prayer, and opened the cage to hood the eagle. He let out a sigh of relief when the eagle didn’t attack him. He quickly grabbed its legs and moved it into a cage, locked it tightly, and carried the cage to his car. In his pocket was the address to the wildlife rehab center. He glanced at it. He noticed the name of the center was Plan B, which he thought was fittingly ironic for a rescue center.
When he arrived at the wildlife center, the receptionist told him to keep the eagle outside and wait for the handler. He stood by his car, hopping from foot to foot to keep warm, irritated that the wildlife center didn’t acknowledge that he was a licensed vet and knew what he was doing.
“I understand you have an eagle that needs a flight cage?”
He spun around, then did a double take, stunned. Standing in front of him was Jackie Colombo. Jackie Colombo! Will’s jaw dropped. “What are you doing here . . . ? Where have you been?”
Jackie looked equally amazed. “I had an accident at the vet clinic in Stoney Ridge and had to take a leave of absence for a while.”
“You vanished into thin air.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry. First, I had a hand injury—I was badly bitten by a pet raccoon while I was prepping it for surgery—and then discovered the raccoon was rabid. Long story short . . . my hand needed surgery and was bandaged up for a few weeks. And then the vet clinic was worried I would sue them because they neglected to make sure the raccoon was up to date with its shots—of course I wouldn’t sue, but they’re a little paranoid—so they gave me this ridiculous settlement if I promised I’d never speak to the press or to any attorney. I had to take a leave of absence until my hand healed. Next thing I knew, a friend who works at Plan B asked if I could help them out with a few things while I was on leave. So . . . here I am.”
Will was still dazed, trying to listen to her and still absorb the fact that she was standing right in front of him. He had found her! Over Jackie’s head, Will noticed the sign for the wildlife rehab center. PLAN B: A WILDLIFE REHAB CENTER. He nearly burst out laughing. Mim Schrock had told him where Jackie was, weeks ago, and he didn’t put two and two together. Then something she said sunk in. “Rabies? You had rabies?”
“No symptoms. But of course I needed treatments.”
“Shots!” Will thumped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “The old treatment for rabies is fifteen shots to the stomach.” Luke, being a typical eleven-year-old, assumed shots meant gunshots.
She nodded. “Thankfully, the treatment is better now.” She grinned. “I’m all cured.” She glanced back at the Plan B entrance. “I find I’m liking this work much better than being in a clinic. Feels good to make a difference.”
“You stopped answering my emails.”
She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. It was hard to do anything with my hand. Then, I had so many emails piling up—hundreds of them—I just got overwhelmed and didn’t even try to go through them.” She looked at the ground. “I figured you would have accepted a fancy job somewhere.”
“Not so fancy. I’m in Stoney Ridge starting a wildlife bird rescue center. In fact, I’m in that very location you had suggested.”
“Yeah?” She grinned.
He took a step closer. “Yeah.”
For a while they just stood there, grinning at each other. Then the eagle started to shift impatiently in its cage and Will remembered why he had come. “I have a patient for you.” He reached down to pick up the eagle cage. “But before I forget, would you mind giving me your phone number?”
“Not at all.”
“And . . . what would you think of joining me and my eleven-year-old assistant on the Audubon Christmas Bird Count next week?”
Jackie smiled. “Why, I was planning to go on it myself.”
The next day, Jackie called Will to let him know the eagle was flying well and was cleared to return to the wild. On Saturday afternoon, Will and Luke picked up the eagle, and Jackie, from Plan B Wildlife Rehab Center and drove to the Inn at Eagle Hill close to sunset. They walked up to the ridge, the highest point. Luke spotted Mrs. Eagle flying over the creek. Will opened the cage, took the eagle out, holding tightly to it, then quickly pulled off its hood and set it free. The eagle took off, soaring down the ridge. Luke kept his binoculars peeled on Mrs. Eagle, while Jackie shielded her eyes from the sun and kept watch on Mr. Eagle.
Will looked at Luke and Jackie, and at the eagles soaring over Eagle Hill. He felt overwhelming gratitude well up in his heart, and he thanked God for this moment. He was a different person than when he had arrived. He thought he held his future tightly in his hands. Now, he held his hands, palms open, to God. He remembered that first cautious prayer when he arrived in Stoney Ridge, asking God to bless this endeavor. This morning, his prayer was to ask God to make him a blessing. Some might think it the same prayer, but to Will, it was entirely different.
It wasn’t long before Mr. and Mrs. Eagle found each other and met in the sky. Their claws caught and they did a dance together, spiraling down, down, down toward the earth, then suddenly releasing and soaring back in the sky. Luke was worried they would hurt each other until Jackie explained it was a courting ritual. “They’re happy to be together again,” she said, giving Will a shy sideways glance.
Will grinned. Yes, they were.