At 5:45 on the dot Gunderman stopped his car in front of Elias’s house. He knocked on the door, wearing a neatly pressed shirt, slacks, and a navy jacket. Celia emerged in a flowered summer dress and gave him a reluctant smile. The hem brushed her legs as she walked to the car, unsteady in low heels. Elias appeared in the doorway of the clinic, waved, and went back inside.
Gunderman stopped the car at the end of the driveway. A police car was parked across the road. As they passed, the officer raised a hand through his open window. “Hello, Celia!” called the officer. “Hello, Erik!”
“Hi, Larry,” Celia called back, then turned an accusatory stare on Gunderman.
“Did you really expect me to just leave?” asked Gunderman. “This is a chess match. You can’t say you didn’t know that.”
Celia frowned and looked out the window. “I’m not your enemy,” said Gunderman.
Celia gazed back at him. “I know you’re not,” she said. “You’re Luna’s.”
Gunderman bowed his head slightly, unwilling to let her see how much this pained him. He could talk about the big picture until he was hoarse and it would make no difference to her. His was a world of absolutes, and hers was filled with exceptions. They rode to town in silence.
• • •
The covered eagle crate rested on the grass near the driveway. There was no sound, which meant Banshee was perching calmly. Elias stood beside her, scanning the edge of the woods. Two people emerged, carrying an identical crate.
“Ben!” called Elias, and waved. Ben was lean and grey-haired, his companion small and stocky. Carefully they crossed the field and put the crate down in front of the flight cage. Ben and Elias hugged and clapped each other on the back. “Long time no see!” said Ben. “Meet Melody!”
Elias shook her hand. “And here…“ finished Ben, pulling the cover from the crate, “…we have Confiscated Eagle Number Four, from now on known as Banshee!”
“Fantastic,” said Elias. “How was the trip? Any trouble?”
“Good trip,” said Ben. “No trouble.”
“There’s a police car at the end of your road,” said Melody. “Can’t you just carry your eagle through the woods?”
“We can’t, she’s too nervous. She’s okay in a car, but if her crate is unsteady she panics and starts thrashing. She’d break a wing.”
“Then how are you going to get past the police?”
Elias glanced anxiously at his watch. “If Owen doesn’t get here soon, that’ll be a good question.”
“Look!” said Ben, and pointed to the black car rolling toward them. It stopped outside the office, executed a three-point turn, and backed up to the grass.
“You’re taking Banshee in a hearse?” asked Melody.
Owen was round and serene, with a soft voice and sandy hair just going grey at the temples. “Hello there, people,” he said warmly, as introductions were made. “Hello, birds,” he added, addressing both crates.
“I need to get out of here,” said Elias. “Owen, will you help me put this crate in your car? Ben, you can get your eagle settled — food and water’s already in there. You sure I can’t offer you beds?”
“Thanks, but we need to get back.”
Owen and Elias slid Banshee’s crate into the empty hearse and shut the door. Ben and Melody started toward the flight cage, but paused at the sound of an engine. Another car was making its way down the driveway.
“Oh, dear,” said Owen.
Elias watched, his heart thudding. Gunderman, he thought. What happened?
The car reached the office, stopped a few yards from the hearse, and two small faces peered through the backseat window. A door opened, and Wizzie slid out.
“Pop!” she called. “What the heck are you doing?”
A man emerged from behind the wheel. “Hey, Elias!” he exclaimed. “Hey, Owen! Is everything okay? Why is Officer Davis parked across the road?”
“He’s taking a rest!” replied Elias. “And Owen is paying a social call!”
“Okay, then catch you later. Anna’s come down with the stomach flu, so I’m dropping the girls off and running to the drugstore.”
He waved goodbye and drove away. Wizzie dropped her overnight bag on the ground, looked pointedly at the hearse, and walked toward the group. She stopped in front of Elias.
“Is there anything you want to tell me?” she asked.
• • •
The cozy Italian restaurant was at the corner of Maple and Baker. Celia and Gunderman sat a table beneath a trellis covered with roses, half-finished glasses of wine before them, each intently studying the decor.
“I’m sorry if this is a difficult day for you,” said Gunderman, attempting at least a passable conversation. “Being the anniversary of your husband’s death, and all.”
“This isn’t the anniversary,” said Celia. “It was in March.”
Silence fell while they held each other’s gaze, each waiting for the other to speak. Just get through the dinner, Celia thought. Just give Dad time to do whatever he’s doing.
“The actual day was in March,” she said, “but today’s the day we observe it.”
Gunderman glanced at the other diners. When was the last time he’d been on a date? Or even hung out with friends? He remembered an outdoor bar in West Virginia where he and his fellow wildlife officers, newly graduated, were celebrating before splitting up into ten weeks of field training. He had lost touch with them over the years. His fault, not theirs.
Too busy. He’d get to it later. He’d see them at the reunion, or maybe the next one. Since his daily routine brought him into contact with so many people, it became increasingly easy to spend his free time alone in the Loxahatchee. Surrounded by cattails and wading birds, reveling in the beauty of nature, he felt more and more connected to other species, and less and less to his own.
A heart-shaped locket hung from Celia’s neck by a delicate gold chain. His eyes dropped to her slim hands, with their short nails, scrapes, and callouses, a band-aid wrapped around one finger. I’d want her on my side if war broke out, he thought, and drained his glass. “Would you like another?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” she said.
• • •
Owen drove the hearse slowly and carefully down the driveway. Elias sat on the passenger side of the bench seat, Wizzie between them. “You’re not coming with me,” said Elias firmly. “We’ll drop Mr. Trumbull off at his house, then you can stay with him until Mom gets home.”
“But Pop!” cried Wizzie. “You can’t do this by yourself! You need me!”
“You’re not coming!”
“I’ll be your road dog!”
“My what?”
“Elias?” said Owen. “Don’t forget, Officer Davis is parked on the other side of the road.”
“Oh, Christmas,” said Elias.
Owen’s serene smile began to fade. “He’s going to see you,” said Owen. “Will he stop us if he spots you?”
“He won’t see us,” said Wizzie. “Hurry up, Pop, you get down on the floor there, and I’ll lie flat on the seat. See? It’ll look like Mr. Trumbull is driving all by himself.”
The hearse stopped, accelerated slowly, and turned left. “You see?” whispered Wizzie. “You do need me.”
“Have a good night, Owen!” called a voice from outside.
“You too, Larry!” returned Owen, and waved his hand.
• • •
The light was fading as Celia and Gunderman finished their dinners. “What does the average American care about?” asked Celia, in her soft voice. “Reality shows and gadgets. They have no connection to wild things at all. They’re afraid, or they can’t be bothered, or they don’t see why they should care about the life of an otter. They don’t go out and look at the night sky. They’ve never been in a meadow in the springtime.”
She paused. “You know something?” she asked. “Sometimes when I’m hiking, I stop and look at the sun through the pines. I watch the snow fall from the sky, or the rain sweep over the valley, and I think, I’m alone. I’m alone all the way out here in the woods, and it’s so beautiful that I’m never coming out.”
Just don’t move, Gunderman’s grandmother used to say, and they’ll decide whether or not to trust you. Each afternoon at dusk he bundled into his coat and boots and sat on the snow, waiting for the deer to glide silently from the forest. He stayed immobile, grasping a handful of hay, his arm resting on his knee. Each time they came closer and closer, until one evening the most beautiful doe he’d ever seen stretched her neck and pulled the hay from his hand. Reflexively he pulled away, and the doe flinched and disappeared.
He hesitated. “But…you do,” he forced himself to reply, before he lost his nerve. “You come out.”
“Because of Wizzie,” said Celia. “And my dad. And the volunteers, and the animals. And because it’s so important to keep the wildlife and the wild places safe. Especially now. It’s a scary time.”
He didn’t even hear the ring of his phone. Celia looked at him inquiringly. “Would you like to get that?” she asked.
He pulled it from his jacket pocket. It was Officer Davis, saying his shift was ending. “Thank you,” said Gunderman. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” His eyes returned to hers.
Celia’s pale hair framed her delicate features. The lights entwining the trellis around her sparkled. “It’s all right,” she said, raising her hand for the waiter. “You’re just doing your job.”
They approached the driveway and waved at Officer Davis. The center was deserted. Celia glanced at the flight, to Banshee’s solitary silhouette. “There she is,” she said, wondering what had happened. “Do you want to see her?”
They walked up the hill to the flight cage. Banshee faced the mountain, her back to them. Gunderman squinted, feeling a tingle of alarm. The eagle turned around, and he and Celia both took a breath.
“That’s not Banshee,” said Gunderman. “Call your dad.”
Celia pulled her phone out of her bag and tapped it. “It’s gone straight to voice mail,” she said.
Gunderman turned and strode toward his car. “Erik?” she called, but he slammed the door and drove away.
• • •
The rented Honda rolled steadily through the twilight, heading northwest on a sparsely traveled highway. Lyllis kept the speedometer at a careful 65, supplying a running commentary as Michael searched for radio stations and rummaged through the glove compartment. “Look!” he said, pulling out a paper map. “An antique!”
Luna sat in the back. She tried to picture only Mars and Banshee, but a kaleidoscope of human faces whirled around her. Adam. Roland. Ned. Warren. Lyllis. Michael. Her rehabber friends. Spinning beyond them were others, the ones she had almost succeeded in blocking from her memory. In the middle were Harry and Rose. Above them all, almost invisible, was Hélène.
Lyllis cruised along the right lane as twilight faded to darkness. A pair of headlights appeared behind them, illuminating the inside of their car. Lyllis glanced in her rearview mirror, then the dark SUV accelerated and hovered beside them.
“What’s the matter with that guy?” asked Lyllis, unable to see through the SUV’s darkened windows. It sped up and pulled into their lane, and a second set of headlights shone behind them. An identical SUV accelerated and hovered, matching their speed. “What the…” said Michael, as both SUVs began to slow down. Blocked, Lyllis slowed with them.
“How did they find us?” cried Luna.
“That sonofabitch,” growled Lyllis, peering into her rear view mirror and searching the dark highway behind her. “I am not giving you up!”
“Please, just stop!” Luna pleaded.
The speedometer dropped to 40. “There’s nobody behind us,” snapped Lyllis. “You two hang on, because when we hit 20 I’m going to jam on my brakes, then I’ll cross the divider and go the other way!”
“Don’t!” Luna cried, as the highway curved to the right. “Somebody’s going to get hurt!”
“Look out!” shouted Michael. Stopped on the side of the road was a car, tail lights flashing, parked too close to the right lane. Lyllis jerked the steering wheel to the left to avoid it, and slammed against the SUV beside them. The Honda shuddered, serpentined, and clipped the SUV ahead, then rocked and became airborne as it left the road. It sailed down the embankment, landed on two wheels, and rolled. It came to rest upside down, and its tires squeaked as they spun.