“YOU TWO ARE good for my heart,” Emma said to the owl and the crow as she pushed the workroom door closed behind her. The bitter wind was blowing fiercely. At the moment, her one consolation was being certain that no matter what happened with Parker—even if he walked away from her—she wouldn’t abandon what had become a passion.
Should she be proud or angry that he felt free to leave on a moment’s notice because he knew she could care for these two patients? It seemed she was a little of both. She’d thought about Parker through a sleepless night and a restless day, but she showed up this evening, as he trusted her to.
The owl looked about the same as he did when she’d examined him the day before, battered and bruised but alert and apparently on the mend. She couldn’t say as much for the crow. First, he hadn’t touched any of the food she’d left for him a day ago. Not a good sign. He usually gobbled it up. Even more troubling, and unusual, he didn’t react to her presence. He always lifted his good wing and made his friendly cawing sound. According to Parker, crows have an unusually good memory for faces, well, good in the bird world, anyway.
“What’s this?” she said aloud. “Are you becoming a picky eater? We already feed you like a king.”
He didn’t turn his head in response to her voice. He was off his perch and sitting on the mat. The cage was a real mess, too, which meant she had a huge cleaning job ahead.
She dumped out the old food, but before refilling the stainless steel tub, she opened Parker’s log. Leafing through his detailed notes about the last few days, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. “Never mind, I’m still going to figure out what’s up with you.” She stared at the crow, but got no response.
As she went through the log, she settled on two symptoms, lethargy and loss of appetite. Emma took a couple of deep breaths to ease the tension building in her body. Even her hands trembled slightly as she scanned the information and weighed the probabilities that the crow either had a simple infection or the more serious salmonella, likely fatal. She wasn’t ready to accept that. In either case, there was little to do but watch and wait.
She lifted the crow out of his pen and set him on the mat of the holding cage. No resistance, no sound. “I wish you could talk to me,” she said. “It’s not my fault Parker is gone.” And without any commitment to coming back.
Well, when she’d first suggested it he’d rejected the idea of going after Nicole. It didn’t make sense, he’d said. Now she wished they’d talked about it more. If he’d stuck around a little longer they might have come up with a solution. And not one that meant he’d head out exactly when snow was predicted for large swaths of the Midwest and New England. If she weren’t so worried about him, she’d say it served him right.
Her hip ached and her body craved sleep, but frustration produced enough fuel to get through the cage cleaning routine. After switching out the mats she put the crow back in his pen. Then she eased herself down on the bench and rested her back against the wall. Normally, she’d leave and come back in the morning. Christmas Eve morning, she thought. Nothing about the launch or the holiday would be as she envisioned it. Nothing. She leaned forward and covered her face with her hands and rubbed her eyes. And now she had a sick bird to care for.
“What am I supposed to do?” she asked, as if the birds could answer her.
Luckily, the answer to her question wasn’t that complicated. And she already knew the answer.
* * *
WITH THE WINDSHIELD wipers barely keeping up with the falling snow and a salt truck close behind him, Parker pulled off the highway and into a gas station plaza filled with semis likely waiting for the roads to be cleared. This is exactly what he’d feared when Nic made the drive. She beat the snow and was safely at Jackie’s house, but here he was catching the tail end of another storm.
Before leaving the truck, he checked his phone. Nothing from Nic, nothing from Emma. What could he expect? He’d always remember the pained look on Em’s face when he gave her such vague answers when she asked when he’d be back and what would happen next.
He went inside the store and picked up hot coffee and a sandwich that he took back to his truck. He resisted checking his phone again. Watching the snow come down, Parker was struck by the notion that the vehicle was pointed in a direction he didn’t really want to go.
He ate quickly and swallowed the last of his coffee and let his head drop back against the headrest. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it took him a second to realize he’d dozed off. The wind howling outside the truck had startled him awake.
Thankfully, it had stopped snowing. Fewer semis were in the rows of parking spaces and more were leaving now. He could be on his way, too, if he wanted to. What he wanted wasn’t the point. This was about Nic. He scoffed. If it was about her, it was time to let her know he was on his way.
He tapped her number and was prepared to leave a voice message, but then he heard her cheery, “Hi, Dad?”
“Hey, sweetie, I wanted to let you know I’m on my way. It’s been slow going what with the storms.”
“On your way here? Vermont?”
“Yes. I’m at a rest stop in Pennsylvania. I should be there—”
“Why, Dad?” she interrupted.
“Why? Why do you think? I’m worried about you. You left without telling me.”
“Because you would have tried to talk me out of it,” she said, her voice louder now. “I needed to come and see Mom. You know, see what’s going on. I told you that.”
“I get it. I just don’t want to see you disappointed, or worse, Nic.” He paused, knowing how irrational this all sounded even to his own ears. “I thought I should be there for you. Put my mind at rest.”
“What about Emma?”
“She’s looking after the birds we have.”
She let out a low groan. “I wasn’t talking about the birds, Dad. I mean you and Emma. I know you’re in love with her.”
That gave him a jolt. He hadn’t expected Nic to come up with that. He didn’t know what to say in response.
“Right, Dad?”
“Yes, Nic, but that’s not as important as you. I need to know you’re okay.”
“Oh, Dad, of course I’m okay. I love you. I like Bluestone River. And Neville, and my job.”
“So, if that’s true why did you sneak away?” The thing that hit the hardest.
“I love Mom, too,” she said in a low voice. “We haven’t talked about heavy stuff yet, but I hadn’t seen her since June.”
“Oh, sweetie, I’ve never said you didn’t have a great mom who loves you,” he said defensively.
“Please, Dad, I’m not ten years old. I have to work this out with Mom on my own.” She paused. “But I always thought you and I were good.”
“We are, Nic, we are.” A whole new way of looking at this situation was taking form.
“Even if I stay with Mom for now, it’s not like I’ll never see you.”
“I’m sitting in the middle of nowhere, Nic, and I’ve dodged snow and slick roads since I left home.” He shook his head. “Only now, this minute, am I seeing the truth of what you’re saying.”
“You know, Dad, I don’t want to see you get hurt or disappointed, either. You have the big launch you’ve been working on since we moved into those cabins. And you have Emma.”
His daughter was making so much sense he was already calculating how quickly he could get back. Since the minute he’d pulled out of Emma’s driveway, he’d forced himself to think about Nic, and how she and Jackie were doing. And, as usual, worrying about her getting caught up in Jackie’s problems. All along, he should have known Nic was capable of handling it herself.
“Okay. You’re right, Nic. I’ve got to go back and hope Emma will understand.”
When he heard Nic’s girlish giggle come through the phone, his heart soared.
“She knows you like her like her,” Nic said lightly. “She’ll forgive you. But get going. Text me when you get there.”
Parker laughed. “I will. I’ll send you pictures of the launch.”
“Good. Tell Emma I said hi.”
With that, they ended the call and Parker calculated the miles back home. If the roads were clear, he’d be there in no time.