Harper closed her laptop, slid it into her bag, and stepped out into the brilliant sunshine of Cielo Azul. She walked past the pool and the tennis courts to the formal garden, where she picked a single red hibiscus and slid it into her hair. When she reached the zoo, she performed a final patrol.
She had found homes for all of them. Good homes, too, not mere holding pens where they would languish. The camels, the kangaroos, the flamingos, the spiders, every one of the 38 different species in Adam Matheson’s zoo had been carefully placed. The pairs would be kept together, and all would receive the best of care and enrichment.
The property had sold in a day. The wife was a romantic, and wanted to erase all trace of its multi-married former owner and re-create her honeymoon villa. The husband was a germaphobe, and wanted to erase all trace of the zoo so there was no possibility of bird flu. The bulldozers would arrive on Monday.
Harper closed the gate behind her, and Carlos emerged from the house. They walked toward each other, and met in the middle of the luxurious green lawn.
“Good morning, Miss Harper,” said Carlos.
“Good morning, Carlos,” she replied. “Have you decided where you’re going?”
“Yes. I am going to Orlando, to join my brother’s landscaping company. And you? Will you go to live with the dolphins?”
“I hope so. I’m looking for a way.”
“Good luck to you, Miss Harper.”
“Good luck to you too, Carlos.”
They bumped their fists together, and parted ways.
• • •
These clowns in Washington are slicing the shit out of my budget, Whittaker had said.
Gunderman glanced at the neat row of locked canoes, and continued down the North Trail. The late afternoon sun shone behind him. He heard a rattling call, and paused to watch an anhinga soar past him and land in a cypress tree.
I can’t afford to fire you to prove a point, Whittaker had continued. I don’t know what kind of stupid shell game went on with those eagles, but if the public thinks we’re heroes, fine. This is a crazy time, Gunderman. Any minute I’m expecting the fuckers in this administration to start selling licenses to shoot endangered species to the highest bidders.
Gunderman passed the visitor center, and continued to his cabin. He had made peace with it all. Three unreleasable eagles would live out their lives in luxury, doted on by volunteers. Once he would have fought this breach of law and order, but while tracking Luna Burke he had begun to realize that sometimes delicate colors appeared in the crevices between black and white.
He grabbed a beer from his refrigerator, went out to his porch, and sat down. He thought about Celia, Wizzie, and Elias, even though there was no point. He had spoken to Celia after the news segment, a short and stilted conversation filled with awkward silences and overlapping attempts at banter. She was rooted firmly in Pennsylvania, he in Florida. There was no more to be said.
His reunion was next month. He would attend, reconnect with his fellow wildlife officers, and catch up on all the years he had missed. He would swap stories and feel the camaraderie. Maybe, he thought, I’ll track a couple of them down this weekend.
The knock on the door startled him. When he opened it Celia gave him an inquiring smile, and Wizzie raised her hand in greeting. Both were in shorts and t-shirts. For a moment, he was too surprised to react.
“You see?” said Wizzie. “I told you we should have called first!”
“We’re on vacation,” said Celia. “Wizzie wanted to come to Florida, but I didn’t want to impose on you, you know? So I thought we’d just say hello, and then we’ll go.”
“But you can come with us if you want,” added Wizzie, “and give us a tour.”
Gunderman grinned. “Come in,” he said, and he tumbled into a world of primary colors.
• • •
Roland let himself into his apartment and found Lyllis emerging from the bedroom in a scarlet evening gown, a blaze of diamonds around her neck.
“Holy mother,” he said, his eyes sweeping her from head to foot. “You are one fine woman.” He crossed the room, his eyes widening at her necklace. “Where’d you get that? Now what have you done?”
“Oh, stop it,” she retorted. “It’s Luna’s. She was wearing it the night she showed up in the rain. Will you hurry up? We’re going to be late.”
“Did she give it to you?”
“Nah, she just left it. I’m keeping it for her, because someday she’s going to come back from wherever she went and need some money.”
“Maybe she won’t want it.”
“She’ll want it after I get through with her. It’s her fee for being kidnapped and manhandled and everything else. If there was any justice in this world, me and Michael would have one, too. I’m wearing it tonight, then I’ll put it in the safe deposit box in the bank.” She pushed him toward the bedroom. “Go. Get dressed. How’s the team?”
“Good,” he replied, and smiled. “They’re good kids.”
Lyllis smiled back at him. After a moment he blinked, as if something had startled him into motion. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll be five minutes. It’s just…sometimes I don’t want to do anything but stand still and look at you.”
She beamed. “Go,” she said. “You can look at me when we’re not late.”
He peeled off his clothes in the bedroom. His phone rang, and he glanced down.
“Yeah?” he said, guarded.
“Roland,” said Adam. “You have a minute?”
“I’m on my way out.”
“This won’t take long. Listen. Now that some time has passed, I just want to tell you how sorry I am. Especially about the car. You know that wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“I know.”
“Things got out of hand. It was temporary insanity. Anyway, I’m sure you’ve heard I’m done with Luna.”
“I gotta go.”
“What do you say we get past it? Why don’t you come work for me again?”
“No.”
“You’ve said that to me before.”
“This time I mean it,” said Roland, and hung up.
• • •
Adam regarded his phone. Roland will change his mind, he thought. The driver opened the door, and Adam sent Darcy a quick text.
adam@matheson.com Change of plan. Back next Wednesday.
Paszkiewicz accompanied him to the private elevator, then to the penthouse. He took a seat in the bar, and Adam continued into the dining room. The restaurant was booked a year in advance, but one of his assistants had called that morning and reserved a table next to the window. It was set with antique china and crystal. His favorite champagne rested in a silver bucket. The lights of Manhattan sparkled below.
Waiting for him was Sophie König, whose latest film had just won the Palme d’Or at Cannes, whose agent was currently negotiating her first big-budget American picture, and whose career was on a nearly vertical climb. She was there unbeknownst to her boyfriend, a German actor with whom she had been living for the past four years.
Sophie talked about her childhood, career, and ambitions, and Adam smiled, nodded, and thought about the shit storm he had faced when he returned from Canada. His marketing and PR people were hysterical, investors were jittery, and the media was all over him. He answered his phone the second day and heard the voice of Joe Reiner, his mentor, frequent business partner, and friend. Adam, he said. Come have dinner with me tomorrow night. Seven o’clock.
Adam arrived at the cavernous apartment and followed a woman to the roof garden, where Joe sat holding a gin and tonic and looking out over the city. Adam sat beside him, and a young man handed him a Scotch on the rocks. Adam, said Joe. What are you doing?
It’s complicated, said Adam.
No, it’s not, said Joe. Bottom line is she’s making you look like you’re not in charge. We can’t have that.
Joe listened patiently, and at the end a kindly smile appeared on his heavily lined face. Are you on drugs? he asked.
Of course I’m not on…
Then what are you talking about? Even if things were going well with Luna, which they’re not, have you ever spent more than a week on an island? I didn’t think so. Look. I know you love her. But what is marriage, really? In your case, it’s a piece of paper with dollar signs all over it. If you’ve managed to find the one woman in the world who doesn’t want any of them, then get on your knees, thank God, and run with it. Tell the media you’re divorcing her and she’s not getting a penny. It’ll show the world you’ve wised up, and then maybe you won’t end up with another…what was that last one’s name, again?
Shannon.
Right. Shannon. Anyway. Divorce her, get back in charge, and then do whatever you want. Am I making sense?
“I love America!” exclaimed Sophie, in her charming accent.
“It’s the land of opportunity,” said Adam.
“And what about your wife?” asked Sophie. “Are you divorced yet?”
“It’s in the works.”
She wasn’t at the eagle place. He had hired a Canadian private investigator to stake it out, and there was no sign of her. She wasn’t with Harrelson, who had returned to Key West after his trial. She wasn’t at the Western Pennsylvania Wildlife Center. She wasn’t at Starfish Key. She wasn’t with any of the animal people on her phone list.
“There is a chance I will move to Los Angeles,” said Sophie. “Do you have a house there?”
She was stunning. Heads turned when she entered a room. “I certainly do,” he replied. “Would you like to see it?”
He thought of the day he crossed the wide lawn of Cielo Azul to meet his new zookeeper. She stood waiting in the sunlight, her curly hair auburn, her eyes Caribbean blue. She wore khakis and a white sleeveless shirt. Hanging from a leather cord around her neck was a silver bead, and inside was the downy feather of an eagle.
“Adam?”
Lilac-colored silk. Stars in a summer sky.
“Adam?”
He looked up and smiled. “This has been a most enjoyable evening,” he said. “My apartment is not far from here. Would you like to go there for a nightcap, or shall I take you back to your hotel? I leave the choice to you.”
She returned his smile. “A nightcap would be lovely,” she replied.
• • •
Luna wandered along the ridge and slept beneath the stars. She cooked over a fire, and when it rained she moved her sleeping bag into the cabin. Twice a week a pair of Hélène’s volunteers appeared with supplies.
She had left Ned as he slept and hiked up the mountain, accompanied by five of the volunteers. They readied the site for her, and spent the night. In the morning, at her insistence, all five returned to Hèlène’s. For a week her mind and body closed ranks, her body absorbing its remaining adrenaline while her mind shut its door and allowed her to sleep. She rose so she could eat and use the camping toilet, then she returned to her sleeping bag.
As she healed, her system loosened its protective grip. She spent fewer hours asleep. The stitches in her arm began to itch. The road burn on her thigh scabbed over. Memories returned, vying for space as she hiked. When she ejected them, they appeared at night in a form far worse. Not Ned, though. When she banished him from her waking hours he slipped between her nightmares, piloting one of his carefully restored cars or holding Mars on a glove, allowing her a moment of respite before her dark dreams returned.
She knew the farther the distance between them, the better it was for Ned. They had been thrown together by chance, not choice. Besides, relationships were fleeting and destructive, and she was still married to Adam. Ned had moved on, she was sure, and she was safe on her mountain. But each time the volunteers appeared with supplies she held her breath, hoping, until it became clear Ned was not with them.
Warren arrived long after time became irrelevant. He emerged from the forest, a steak dinner in his backpack, singing “People Are Strange” in a voice uncannily like Jim Morrison’s. He gave her a hug, kissed her forehead, and stretched out by the fire pit. “Ned’s fixing your house up,” he announced.
She flinched, as if his words had cut her. “I don’t know what to do with this information,” she said.
“You could just consider it,” he replied.
He chopped a stack of wood, cooked their meal over the fire, and removed her stitches with his multitool. When he left in the morning, she lay on her back and stared at the clouds. She pictured Ned at Starfish Key, brown-haired, pony-tailed, slouching and looking noncommittal. She replayed their journey north, from Warren’s all the way to Hélène’s.
It’s the eagle courtship ritual! she told him at Esther’s, fumbling with the CD.
Not the courtship ritual! he gasped, in horror.
Otherwise known as the Death Spiral!
They sure got that right!
They were on the same page, she thought. Fixing the house was just a nod to the past, a way to channel his remaining adrenaline. She couldn’t live at Harry and Rose’s, but maybe he could. Maybe she could give him the house, as a way to thank him for all he had done.
• • •
At the top of the hill stood a farmhouse, and behind it a barn. The classic red Chevy was parked near the front steps. Clustered around it it were two cars, a pick-up truck, and a van.
Ned had flown to Kentucky and stopped at the Blue Moon Wildlife Center. He retrieved his car from Iris’s brother’s barn, then he drove to Pennsylvania. He spent one night in a roadside motel, feeling a sweet, fleeting moment of anticipation when he woke up alone in an unfamiliar room.
He tracked down the executor of Harry and Rose’s will, a retired lawyer who kept the title to their home in one of his files. So you’re the famous Ned Harrelson! the white-haired man said. He drew up a contract stating Ned expected no financial return for repairs on the Burke’s house, barn, or property. I hope you can get her to come back, he added.
Ned sat at the kitchen table, attempting to respond to the email his office had sent him that morning. On the table before him were invoices, receipts, and a nearly completed master list. The cleaners, carpenters, painters, and decorator had been working for two months. “I know, Francine, I’m on it, ” he said, answering his phone without checking the screen.
“Wassup?” asked Warren. “How you doing, man? I hear you’re fixing up her place.”
“Uh, yeah, I am,” Ned managed, taken aback. “I’m good. You?”
“Good.”
“Have you seen Luna?”
“Saw her yesterday.”
“Where?”
“She was in her own space.”
Ned knew trying to cross-examine Warren would get him exactly nowhere, so he tried a different tack. “How is she?”
“Okay.”
“Can I see her?”
“She needs a little more time.”
“How much more?”
“Sorry, man, I really wish I could tell you. Listen, I gotta go. I just wanted to check in and tell you she’s all right. You need anything, just call me.”
“Right. Black phone.”
Autumn turned the fields to burnished gold, the oaks and maples to a fiery blaze, and Ned wandered through the restored house. It was beautiful and serene. It was the kind of place that made him wistful, that made him long for the kind of complete and happy life its occupants must surely live. He sat in the living room on the edge of the couch, thinking, why did I do this?
• • •
The air was chilly when he arrived. The sky was streaked with purple. Hélène sat on her porch wearing a heavy wool cardigan, holding a glass of red wine. On the table beside her was the bottle and another glass. She watched him approach, her face impassive.
“I must have called you two dozen times over the last few months,” he said, sitting beside her. “I’ve talked to everyone here but you.”
“Have some wine,” she replied.
Ned let out an exasperated sigh. He spilled a few drops as he poured, then he set the bottle down and raised his glass.
“To the birds of the air,” said Hélène, in her insinuating whisper.
“Where is she?” he asked.
Hélène gestured to a ridge in the distance. “She lives in the forest. Like in your fairy tales.”
“There’s a house up there?”
“It depends on your definition of a house.”
“Can I drive up and see her?”
“There’s no road. It’s a three-hour hike.”
“Can I call her?”
“There’s no service.”
Ned drained half his glass. “Why won’t she see me?”
“She believes she has done you harm. And any further contact will cause you more. ”
“Do you know how she’s caused me the most harm? By disappearing on me!”
“Harm is relative.”
“No, it’s not!” He glanced at the ridge. “Is she staying up there so she can be ‘free?’ Because that’s bullshit! If she won’t leave that mountain then she’s not free, she’s just living in a really big cage!”
Hélène regarded him implacably. Ned forced himself to meet her eyes, even though he felt he was tempting fate just by sitting next to her.
“Mars and Banshee have joined the group of unreleasable eagles,” she said, turning toward the flight cages. “Each day I go out and sit with them. I would never do that with the wild ones.”
Ned threw caution to the winds. “Are you trying to be metaphorical?” he snapped. “Are you trying to tell me Luna is a wild bird, and I should keep away from her?”
“You’re not as smart as you think you are.”
“I think I’m the biggest idiot who ever lived! If I were smart, I would never have left Florida!”
“Then why don’t you learn?” said Hélène. “Everything changes. Birds. People. Times. Egg to chick. Predator to prey. You may try to slow it down, but you can’t stop it. And only rarely can you hurry it along.”
Ned glared. “Why are you so casual about all this? Aren’t you supposed to be passing her your torch? Isn’t she supposed to be the new environmental savior? Because that’s what all the rehabbers say!”
Hélène waved her hand, as if the whole subject irritated her. “Maybe she doesn’t want my torch. Did any of you ever think of that?”
She gestured to the bottle, and Ned poured again. “Are you the same man you were when you met her?”
“You know I’m not!”
“Did she ask you to to change? No. You did it on your own, even when you were afraid. She gave you the room you needed. And when the stakes were the highest, you raised an eagle on your glove.”
Ned rested his elbows on his knees. He removed his glasses and wearily rubbed his eyes. “Hélène,” he said. “She didn’t even say goodbye.”