Chapter 2

 

I was good at what I did. Rationally, I knew it. That was why I’d been asked to come help with the eagle. I had jumped at the chance, yet now, cooling my heels in the open reception area of the Janet L. Swanson Wildlife Health Center on the Cornell University Campus, I started second guessing myself. They had lots of experts here already, and there were certain… skills that were difficult for me to bring to bear on the situation without privacy. As a visiting vet I would probably be working with the regulars, in their space, most of the time.

I had been eleven when I realized I might have something good in my hands, despite what had happened. The school bus had dropped me at the end of my street along with a couple other kids. We weren’t friends, but they weren’t mean to me either. They simply took little notice of me. Sometimes I got invited to birthday parties, sometimes not. It wasn’t malicious. They just never invited me over to play. My mother considered birthday parties for family only. I honestly wondered if she would have remembered mine at all if it weren’t for my grandmother.

The other kids trotted down the street toward their own homes. I dragged my feet, enjoying the warmth of the Indian summer and the sunshine on the autumn leaves after several days of rain. Greens had given way to rich scarlet red, golden yellow and a cheerfully brilliant orange.

When I got to my front yard, a mourning dove sat on the ground under a tree, but it didn’t fly away as I approached. It just flapped around then stilled, its little feathered chest heaving for a minute.

I set my book bag down then moved toward the bird one careful step at a time. It hopped away from me.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” I hope. It turned its head to focus one black bead of an eye on me and stilled. “I just want to help you.” I didn’t know what I could possibly do, yet I had this overwhelming need to try to do something. Maybe I could take it home, nurse it back to health. I couldn’t take it in the house. Mom didn’t allow animals in the house; she said they carried dirt, fleas, and dander. Nobody ever went in the tool shed out back, though, because we had gardeners who came to take care of the lawn. They brought their own tools.

I knelt down, slid my hands around the bird, then gently lifted it. An intense longing to heal it seized me, and a jolt flew through my fingers, like walking across a carpet then shaking hands with someone but ten times stronger. I involuntarily squeezed the bird, then dropped it. I held my breath, scared I might have hurt it more, but then it cooed, stretched out its wings, and shook itself before taking off as if it never had been injured.

It was hurt, wasn’t it? Maybe I had been wrong or… a thought began to take shape in my head. Maybe, just maybe, my wish had actually healed the bird? Like in a fairy tale.

My mother called from the porch. “Allyson, don’t dawdle.”

Great. I never knew if she would be home or not when I got there. You’d think I’d have been bubbly with what happened, anxious to tell my mother, but it was pretty much the opposite. I retrieved my book bag and went inside.

“What were you doing out there?” she asked with a scowl.

I was a truthful child, so I said, “There was a bird. I thought it was hurt.”

My mother’s brow lowered. “You didn’t touch it, did you?”

I froze at her tone. I knew what that meant. “Yes,” I replied in a small voice.

“Come on, to the bathroom with you. Scrub your hands. Don’t you know birds carry lice and germs?” she scolded. She gripped my shoulders, turned me toward the bathroom, and gave me a little push.

She couldn’t stifle my curiosity after that first bird though. The urge to help just became stronger as I got older. Animals sought me out when they were hurt. Did they tell each other where to go? That I would help? I imagined their conversations, perhaps a mole talking to a cottontail rabbit. A thorn in your paw? You should go see Allyson.

By the time I was twelve, I had converted our little tool shed into an animal hospital. My mother didn’t like it and voiced her displeasure at every opportunity. However, my father supported me, both verbally and financially, when it came to supplies. He also ran interference with my mother.

Any animal that hopped or wandered through our backyard became a friend—squirrels, bunnies, neighbor cats and dogs, mice, moles, a snake or two—however, birds were my specialty. They knew exactly where to come for help. Mom eventually gave up. She just insisted I scrub and change clothes after being out with the animals.

“Doctor Reynolds,” a male voice called out from across the room, pulling me back to the present. It sounded somewhat familiar.

I looked up, shielding my eyes from the afternoon sun shining in the front window as a male figure strode toward me, blond hair haloed by the light. He stopped in front of me.

Startled, I rose to my feet and looked into a chiseled face, his eyes the indeterminate blue green of sea glass like I’d collected along the shoreline once as a teenager. His dark golden blond hair was short and spiky, his lopsided grin pure perfection. He was gorgeous.

In my experience, gorgeous men were not to be trusted. Well, no men really were. Oh, all right, no one was, period.

“Doctor Allyson Reynolds? I’m Doctor Matthew Scott Blake. I’m honored to have you join us. I’ve read your articles in the Raptor Rehab Newsletter.”

He held out a hand, but when I put out mine to shake it, he simply captured mine in his and placed his other hand over it. His eyes flashed green with golden flecks in the sunlight.

“I’m glad to be here,” I said, not at all sure I was anymore, as my pulse sped up. “Please, call me Ally.”

“All right, Ally it is.”

I want to climb him like a tree. I swallowed, aghast at my own thoughts. I’d only known him a few minutes.

His hands were so warm. My mother’s voice played in my head, Gorgeous men are dangerous, arrogant, and being involved with them will lead to no good. I frowned.

“It’s so good to see you…” he said. At my expression, he faltered and cleared his throat. The wattage of his smile dimmed significantly. “I mean, to meet you. I’ve been following your work since I arrived in the States, in the newsletter.”

He turned, drawing my hand through his arm. “Please, let me show you around the facilities here.”

“Uh, thank you,” I murmured, wondering how to tactfully withdraw my arm. My attraction to him was overwhelming. At the same time, his overly familiar attitude seemed a little odd.

A tall woman, her long, brown hair in a ponytail, appeared at the doorway through which Matt had arrived. She positively glowered at my arm through Matthew’s. She wore work boots, khaki shorts, and a sand colored polo shirt with the university logo, so I assumed she worked there as well. She approached us and stopped several feet away, then turned a bright smile on Matthew. “Hi, Matt. What brings you down from the Ornithology Lab?”

“This is Doctor Allyson Reynolds, the veterinarian and raptor rehabilitation specialist I suggested to Rick we bring in to help with the injured eagle from Sapsucker Woods.”

Shelly took one more look at my arm entwined with Matthew’s then smiled again at him. “Would you like me to show her around?”

He paused a moment before replying. “That’s okay, Shelly. I can handle it, I know my way. No need to take time out of your busy schedule. I’ll just show Doctor Reynolds around, then bring her to meet Rick. He’s the one overseeing the care of the eagle. Oh…” He turned to me. “This is Doctor Shelly Madison, she’s a clinical associate professor in zoo medicine.”

I saw my chance and pulled my arm out of his, ostensibly to shake Shelly’s hand. I murmured hello. She responded stiffly. Her behavior made more sense to me than his. Why treat me like an honored guest? I was just a vet who specialized in raptor rehab. I had been so anxious to get out of town I’d jumped at the chance, but now there was one question paramount in my mind—why had he called me? They were the experts here.

“Now, let’s show you around the animal hospital here.” His hands clenched, his bicep bulging under his short sleeve as he tugged the inner door to the offices open for me.

I fought the urge to retreat a step. Here stood a warrior from medieval legend. It would have been more appropriate for him to be dressed in leather armor than a button-down, short-sleeved khaki shirt, but he grabbed my hand and drew me around Shelly. “We’ll start in the library.”

As we walked, I had a stern conversation with my subconscious. Go to Ithaca, you said. You’ll get away from anyone Jen wants to set you up with, you said.

Matthew squeezed my hand. I looked up to see him beaming at me. My stomach lurched. I was out of the nest and free falling.

* * *

Matthew showed me all around the health center and introduced me to the small staff, letting each person explain what they were working on, as well as the many student workers who kept things clean. In one of the exam rooms, I was able to help with a loon. Finally, we went in to see Rick, the veterinarian who was caring for the eagle.

Rick stood when we entered, towering over me by a head, making me think of a blue heron. He held out a rough hand to shake mine. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said with a Midwestern twang. His quilted plaid shirt with a pocket protector reminded me of a veterinarian back home.

“Thanks. It’s a pleasure to be here.” I plastered a smile on and looked into his eyes behind the silver rimmed glasses he wore. What I saw relaxed me a bit more. He felt comfortable, a known quantity.

“So you’re the miracle worker Matt said we should bring out here, huh?”

I laughed nervously. “I don’t know about miracle worker.” I peeked over at Matthew.

“Oh, he couldn’t think of enough superlatives, wouldn’t stop until I agreed,” Rick replied with a chortle.

“I thought I’d take Ally to dinner,” Matthew said.

“What about examining the eagle?” I asked. “Going over the test results?”

Rick waved a hand. “Tomorrow morning is soon enough for that. He’s stable.”

“I know a great place right down on the water,” Matthew said eagerly.

“Um, okay.” I felt the urge to retreat, like I was being herded or kidnapped. “I just need to use the ladies’ room first.”

I left them chatting and headed for a bathroom we had passed on the tour. I took far longer than I normally would in order to calm my nerves, combing my hair and taking several deep breaths as I stood in front of the mirror. I found Matthew exceedingly attractive, but he unsettled me. I didn’t know what to think about him. Why had he asked me to come here? He wasn’t even working on the case, he was just an ornithologist from the lab. I supposed he had a vested interest in the well-being of the birds from the facility. I went back to meet them, questions circling in my head that I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to ask.

As we left the building and walked out to Matthew’s Jeep Cherokee, I tried to think of something to say. Finally I ventured, “It’s amazing to see so many different types of animals being cared for in one place this way.”

Matthew’s head bobbed in agreement. “It was wonderful the way you helped with the male loon. Your touch seemed to calm him right down.”

“It was my pleasure,” I said. He had been a beautiful adult loon with his sleek black head, white stripes and spots. Unfortunately, he had ingested a fishhook. Once he calmed down, they had prepped him for surgery to remove the fishhook. We hadn’t stayed to watch. Their zoological medicine resident, Nancy, had handled it.

“Where are you from, Matthew?” I asked in an attempt to be pleasant. If we were going to be spending another hour or more together, I had to at least try.

“Please, call me Matt. I came here from Canada.”

“That’s not where you’re originally from?”

He shrugged and opened the car door for me. “I’ve moved around a lot.”

That explained the unusual accent. It held a little bit of a lot of different places. I wondered about it yet didn’t want to sound weird or intrusive. I’ll have to find his CV online next chance I get.

I slid into the seat, and he closed the door for me. It only took a few seconds for him to go around and get in the driver’s side, but it was enough for me to count to ten and relax a little. He made me nervous, yet it felt good, exhilarating. I didn’t know whether I was coming or going.

He got in, buckled his seat belt, and started the car.

“How are you enjoying the States?” I asked.

His eyes flicked in my direction. The silence stretched before he replied, “It’s getting better.”

“You didn’t like it when you first arrived? Did something happen, or were you just homesick?”

“I missed my friends. It’s been a bit lonely.”

I almost snorted derisively but caught myself in time. Judging from the look Shelly had given him, she would be happy to keep him company. I glanced over at him. Maybe I judged him too harshly. Maybe he wasn’t hitting on me. Was I being uncharitable? Maybe he truly was interested in my work, just lonely after moving around a lot. Poor guy.

I offered a sympathetic smile. “I know what it’s like, being the outsider.”

He seemed slightly surprised, but smiled bemusedly back. I had been rather withdrawn since I’d arrived, concerned with keeping him at arm’s length. Hell, I’ll be gone in a couple days, a week tops, no chance of getting too close. Why not enjoy his company while I’m here?

I observed the passing scenery as Matt negotiated the heavy traffic. Colorful murals splashed across the sides of buildings while people walked and biked along. The sun had shone in full force during the afternoon, making the leaves, the brilliant green of new growth, burst out.

Matt had called ahead for seating, so when we arrived at the restaurant, we were whisked right out to a table with a fantastic view of Lake Cayuga, including rowing teams headed out for practice. The entire wall facing the lake was made of glass; there was quite a crowd. We studied the menu and ordered—stuffed shrimp for him and chicken with peach sauce for me. Matt also ordered the spinach and artichoke fondue for an appetizer.

“I grew up in New Zealand,” he finally offered after we handed over our menus. “What about you?”

Exactly the type of topic I didn’t want to get into—my childhood. I fidgeted with my water glass. “Oh, right where I live now, New Hampshire. How did you come to be working at Cornell?”

“They made me an offer I couldn’t pass up. What was your most difficult case with a bird?”

I’d never had a case my healing hands couldn’t deal with; however, I couldn’t exactly tell him about that, could I? I described some of the more challenging injuries to birds I’d experienced, but not how I handled them.

The dip arrived, and the conversation went on that way—each of us seemed to be asking questions the other didn’t want to answer.

“What made you specialize in large bird rehab?” Matthew asked.

I grabbed a chip and scooped up some of the dip. “Hmm, well, I always felt a special affinity for raptors, specifically eagles. I can’t say why.”

A positively radiant smile crossed his face before he shuttered it. “Me too,” he said somberly.

“So, you grew up in New Zealand? Where else have you lived?”

“All around the world.” His lips quirked up. “It’s more like, where haven’t I lived?”

Finally, we had found a topic with some room for movement. For the rest of dinner, dessert, and then coffee, Matt regaled me with stories about the beauty of the different countries he had lived in, and told me funny little anecdotes. I found myself laughing and relaxing more than I had in ages with another person. I realized dinner was over with something akin to regret, and Matt drove me back to my hotel. He insisted on walking me to the room door.

I slid the card through the reader. The door unlocked with a click. I grasped the handle and pushed it open, then turned back to him. “Thanks for dinner and a great evening. I had fun.”

“So did I,” he said.

I looked up at him. Something about him drew me like light draws a moth. I had been surprised by his air of familiarity at first, but I had begun to feel it too. Impulsively, I leaned in to kiss his cheek, surprising even myself.

When I pulled back, the longing on his face arrested my movement and sent an answering echo through my entire body. Oh, Shit. What am I doing? Before I could give it too much thought, I pressed my lips to his.

He didn’t move at first, then he gently held me in place by my upper arms and stepped back, putting me at arm’s length this time.

It took a moment for the fact that he had pulled away to filter into my mind. Heat rose in my cheeks as I backed further away. “I’m sorry. I… you seemed to be having a good time, and I thought… but I guess I was wrong?”

“I was, but…”

The fact that he seemed embarrassed did nothing to assuage my own feelings of abject horror at what I had done.

Then my mind finally put it together: his avoiding Shelly… using me to avoid Shelly. Oh, damn, I just threw myself at a gay man.

Warmth crept up my neck. “I’m sorry, I…” I grabbed his hand, pumped it up and down three times, then released it. “I had a really good time. Thank you for dinner.” I turned and fled into my room, closing the door behind me. I pressed my back against it, breathing and waiting for my heart rate to return to normal. I have never been so embarrassed in all my life.

After a minute, his footsteps faded away as he left.