Days earlier...
We can judge the heart of a man by his treatment of animals.
“Wake up.”
The crackly voice pulls me from a deep sleep. When my eyes flutter open, Birdee’s African Gray parrot perches on my chest.
He bends down and pecks the tip of my nose. Then the little bird squawks in my face. “Wake up!”
I groan and swing my pillow at the annoying avian. “Go away, Petey.”
“I live here.” The strange bird—that miraculously speaks in full sentences—bites my hand and flies away.
“Ouch!” I jolt upright, rubbing the spot he attacked for no reason. “Stupid bird.”
Then I hear a faint “stupid bird” repeated in the hallway as Petey flees my wrath.
“Run, yah chicken!” I scream back, half-laughing. “Someday I’m going to pluck you and make myself a nice, new pillow. No one will ever know.”
“Danger!” The bird sings and flies off, most likely to find his master.
“Tattletale!” I yell after him. The fact that I’m arguing with and threatening a silly bird is totally embarrassing. I don’t know why I let Petey get to me.
I roll out of bed, force my feet into my bear slippers, and drag myself down to the empty kitchen. I grab a blueberry pop tart and nibble a couple bites before heading outside, wondering where Birdee is this early.
Blocking my eyes from the blazing sun with my hand, I scan the back yard. It’s only eight in the morning and it’s already sticky. My pajamas cling to my skin. The warm breeze makes the temperature slightly more bearable, not quite hotter than hell...yet.
At the far end of the yard, a straw hat bobs through the green palm fronds.
Oh good, Birdee’s on a mission. Distracted.
I crouch and sneak along the fence, obscured by bushes. I’ve only been living with my grandmother in the Everglades for over a month now, yet—as always—I still can’t sneak up on her without being busted first. My dad was just like her.
Keen as a coon dog but mad as a hatter.
Slinking along the border of the yard, I hide behind a spiky palm tree and wait a few seconds before peeking out.
Birdee stands on the path, holding camo binoculars up to her eyes. She’s looking directly above her, almost tilting way back.
I tiptoe closer—the closest I’ve gotten to date—putting one slipper in front of the other. This time I might just make it. Or so I think.
Until a feathered look-out flies over my head and squawks, “Intruder.”
Birdee swings her binocular in my direction and laughs when she sees me in the lenses. “Ah ha! Thanks, Petey.”
“Hey!” I pick up a pebble and launch it in the air at him, purposely missing. “Big mouth.”
He darts out of the way and squawks back, “You throw like a girl.”
Somehow, this dang bird outwits me, every single time. If I could catch him, I’d shove him in his cage for a few minutes. Without Birdee knowing. Maybe he’d finally accept that he’s not human, he’s a freakin’ bird. Doesn’t help that Birdee treats him like her little child.
My grandmother comes over and pats my shoulder. “Looks like we gotcha again, Chicken.”
“We?” The nickname makes me smile, but I follow up with an overdramatic groan. “When do you have time to teach him that stuff?”
“When you’re asleep...” Birdee turns her head and winks at me. “Which is quite a lot lately. You teens sure get tired doing nothing. Thought you were going to help me feed the animals this morning.”
Behind us, the goats baa and the chickens cackle in protest at my lack of helping.
“Sorry. I guess the heat’s getting to me.” I wipe my face with the sleeve of my pajama shirt and jog a few steps to catch up as she walks toward the house. For an old woman with a hip replacement, she sure can move. “And I thought North Carolina had awful heat in the summer; this place is ten times worse than Hades. Please tell me it cools off some? Before winter?”
“It’s cooler in the swamps.” Birdee removes her hat and wipes her forehead with the purple handkerchief that always hangs from her back pocket. A glint flashes in her eyes, telling me she’s in a teasing mood. “You should try it out there. Nice hike.”
“Uh, no thanks.” I make a face. “Maybe I forgot to mention that I’m severely and hyper allergic to alligators...actually, to all things that eat humans.”
She waves me off. “Hm. These alligators ain’t any worse than those bears you used to hang out with.”
Before Dad died, I spent my life hiking in the Smokies with him, tagging bears and patrolling the woods for illegal hunters and greedy poachers. But alligators are on a whole other level.
“No thanks. I’ll take my chances with big furry things over snapping death machines any day.”
“Well then, enjoy the looooong hot summer.” Birdee snaps her head up and puts a finger to her lips. “Shhhhhh!”
She scans the sky with her binoculars pressed to her face. No matter how old this woman gets, her spirit seems to grow younger and younger. Soon, she’ll catch up with me.
I stare out at the beginning of the Cypress National Park that borders Birdee’s property. Tall grass sways and the frogs sing in the breeze. A few egrets burst out of the trees and fly overhead. My grandmother likes to ‘live on the edge,’ as they say. Her home is the only private residence that backs up to the Cypress National Park. Only she calls it ‘her backyard.’ Not only is she neighbors with Mother Nature, but she has a menagerie of animals. Her goats and chickens provide milk and eggs, but there have been others that she rescues from time to time. Turtles, birds, deer, mice, and frogs have all called Birdee’s place ‘home’.
No wonder Dad loved it here so much.
There’s no way to get any closer to nature than to hang out at Birdee’s.
She gasps behind me, ripping me from my thoughts. “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit.”
My stomach growls on cue, anticipating Birdee’s homemade breakfast. I slap my tummy and keep my voice low, “What is it?”
“Look.” She hands me the binoculars and points up to the robin-egg blue sky. “A bald eagle.”
I look through the lenses, scanning the sky, barely dotted with wisps of clouds. “Where? I don’t see it.”
She repositions my head to the right a little. “There. Sitting in the top of that tree. Probably has some little eaglets. This is hatching season, you know.”
I finally find the large bird in the viewer. Perched high in his home, glancing down at us. A few seconds later, he flies off.
I sigh after only catching a brief glimpse. Hardly an encounter. “Oh well, he’s gone.”
“Keep your eye out. Probably see him flying back and forth to the nest, bringing food to his lady friend. As it should be.” She smiles and winks again.
We stand there watching the sky for several minutes until the eagle flies back to the nest with a fish dangling from his beak.
“I’m hungry,” Petey squawks.
I keep my eye on the nest. “Birdee, do eagles eat African Grays, by chance?” Then I mumble under my breath, “Should I be so lucky.”
Petey flies up into the palm tree. “Danger!”
“Chicken, stop teasing.” Birdee playfully slaps my shoulder. “Don’t scare him, now he’ll never come down from there. Poor thing.”
“Oh Lord.” I shake my head and hand her the bird watching tool. “That bird gets more love than I do.”
“That’s not true. Yet.” Birdee lets the binoculars hang from her neck and studies me. “Wait a minute...you sound grumpy. Have you eaten breakfast?”
“Couple bites of pop tart.” I plaster on my most pitiful face.
“Good heavens, child. You’re probably starving.” She wraps one arm around my shoulders and leads me toward the door. “I haven’t either so it’s a date. Petey can eat later.”
The little bird squawks from high in the tree. “Traitor.”
“It’s about time.” I actually turn and smile up at the little bird, just to point out that I won this round. Fair and square. I walk inside, cursing myself. This bird probably has no clue about our rivalry and most likely doesn’t even care. This is what I get for being an only child...endless bickering with a feathered sibling.
Birdee and I link arms as we walk into the house. She explains a few more facts about the eagle’s nesting habits while I keep an eye out for Petey. The bird could be planning a pecking mission, out for his revenge.
Birdee bangs around the kitchen, and within record time, the room smells like bacon and egg biscuits. It’s like the woman snaps her fingers and yummy food appears out of the humid air.
I start some fresh coffee and set the table with paper plates and mugs.
When I’m about to sit down, the front screen door opens.
Surely she didn’t teach the bird to open the door.
Instead of chirps, a deep voice calls out, “Hoe gaan dit?”
“Hey Rex! We’re in the kitchen,” Birdee hollers.
I tickle her sides. “Your boyfriend is here.”
“I told you, he’s not my boyfriend.” She pushes my hands away and refuses to make eye contact. “Just friends with benefits.”
“Ahhh!” I jam my pointer fingers in both ears. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“Hey, can’t work all the time.” Birdee straightens her apron and whispers in my direction, “A woman’s gotta play.”
“Stop, have mercy!” We both laugh as I set another plate for Rex to join us.
Birdee’s “object of affection”—or whatever she calls him—pops his head around the corner. “Hallo.”
Rex takes off his baseball hat, revealing thin white hair, and beelines for Birdee. “Hallo, mooi een!” He kisses the top of her hand like men did in the old days.
“Hi yourself.” She swats his butt with a towel.
I groan. “Please! Get a room!”
Birdee and Rex both giggle like school kids.
“Goeie môre, Grace.” Rex comes over and kisses my forehead. His white goatee scratches my skin.
I smile and repeat the Afrikaans greeting, minus the cool South African accent, plus my deep southern one. “Goeie môre.”
Even though I’ve only known Rex a short time, he already feels like family. I never knew my grandfather; he died when I was young. So having Rex is a total bonus, and seeing Birdee happy makes me adore him even more. The two met in Africa after Dad died last year. She went there after the funeral to escape the pain of losing her only son. To pass the time, she ended up helping out on Rex’s family’s animal reserve.
After she returned, Rex showed up a few months later with his nephew to visit. They’ve been “visiting” Florida ever since, though I’m pretty sure they both have made it a permanent address. Rex bought a houseboat for him and his nephew, Dylan, to fix up. While Dylan works as an alligator wrestler at Alligator Land, Rex runs airboat tours for all the tourists. He says it’s to make extra money, but since he’s here all the time, I think it’s an excuse to stay close to Birdee. Only I guess I’ve been cramping their ‘friendship’ for the last month or so while Mom hangs back in North Carolina, selling the house.
So we can start over.
Though I’m not sure that’s what I want. I don’t want to forget Dad and everything we had together there. The family. The house. The memories.
But Mom says ‘we’ needs a fresh start.
I kinda wish things could stay the same, but teens never get a say in any important matter. Instead, parents drag us around and make the decisions they think are best for us.
When really, it’s better for them.
To me, relocating to Florida doesn’t make the pain of losing Dad any less. It just moves the pain further south. To a different place with different memories and a different house.
Birdee places a heaping plate of food in front of me and a platter of biscuits in the middle of the table.
Rex leans over and sniffs the bread’s mouth-watering perfume. “Hmmmm mmmmm! You know the way to an old man’s heart, Miss Birdee.”
“Your heart is in your stomach?” I ask.
“Close enough.” Rex reaches over to snatch a biscuit off the steaming plate, but Birdee smacks the top of his hand. “Excuse me! Can we say grace first?”
He yanks his napkin into his lap and whispers to me, pretending Birdee can’t hear. “I like a bossy woman.” Rex bows his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “Grace. Good, now let’s eat.”
“I’m serious, Rex Kruger.” Birdee sits down and throws a biscuit at his head.
He ducks as it lands on the counter and I laugh. “Rex, I wouldn’t push her. Next, it’ll be a knife or fork.”
“Bring it on. I like a little sass.”
Birdee playfully holds up a fist and shakes it in his face. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“Might be fun.” Rex kisses Birdee’s cheek. Her face lights up like a tacky Christmas sweater.
I stop chewing and stare at them. “Seriously, you guys need to stop with the excessive PDA.”
“We may be old...” Birdee says and winks at Rex.
He jumps in and follows her lead. “But we ain’t dead yet.”
She pours him some coffee and slides her napkin into her lap, which reminds me to do the same. “Oh Chicken, I almost forgot. Your mother called this morning. She got an offer on the house and hopes to close soon. She plans to come down in a few days.”
I stop chewing. The biscuit quickly dries out in my mouth. “You think it’ll really sell?”
Birdee glances at Rex and then focuses on me. “Looks like it.”
None of us says another word.
I suddenly lose my whole appetite. Even for Birdee’s delicious biscuits.
I keep my head down and try not to let my feelings overflow. Don’t know why I’m upset; I knew this was coming. Shouldn’t be a surprise. I guess I didn’t think it’d sell so soon. Our town has been struggling to prosper for years. Businesses have closed, people have gone bankrupt. It’s the main reason Carl got involved with the poaching ring in the first place—to help finance a dying town.
After all that, I assumed the house would stay on the market for a while. Definitely more than a month.
Now, not only is Dad gone, but now my home is almost gone too.
Ever since Al disappeared except for the random sightings around North Carolina, Mom decided it was best if we moved away. Even though no threat has ever been made, she thinks Al wants revenge against me for messing up his bear-poaching scheme. Whether she’s right or not, I assume he’s not thrilled I was indirectly involved with his stepsister, Katie’s, untimely death. Though neither one was really my fault. He was illegally killing bears to make money, and she was killing wolves for a real estate deal.
No matter the reason, he probably blames me for both anyway.
Then again, no one has heard from Al since he escaped the Feds and fled the Smokies.
“Don’t you think we could go home now? Before she sells?” I clear my throat, not sure if I believe what I’m saying. “Al hasn’t been spotted in months.”
“Sweeney figures as long as you stay down here, Al won’t ever find you. The deed to this place is under my mom’s maiden name. So you’re much safer here. In North Carolina, you’re trapped, like a cricket in a slippery bucket.”
And she’s right.
I do feel safe here. Normal. I just wish the fear hanging over our heads—whether real or not—didn’t cost Mom the family home.
Even though Sweeney offered protection, Birdee made it clear that she didn’t want the police hanging around her home. But Mo and Sweeney promised me they would always have someone close by, keeping an eye on us in the background. Just in case Al pops up on the radar again. I had to promise not to let Birdee know.
“What she don’t know won’t piss her off.” Sweeney had said.
And I’ve never said a thing. No use worrying her or Mom.
Sometimes, in the grocery store, I find myself looking, hoping to discover who it is. Wishing it was secretly Mo so I could see him more. Not knowing kinda makes it all a little creepier.
Birdee clears her throat. When I look at her, she eyes my plate.
I force myself to smile and take a bite.
Rex watches me too, never saying a word. He knows the whole story, but he’d never jump in, comment, or take sides. And if he did, I’m pretty sure he’d go with Birdee or he’d probably end up “enemies with no benefits.”
I stare at my plate and poke a piece of gristle. “Did anyone else call?”
“Mo hasn’t called sweetie,” Birdee says matter-of-factly. Like it’s no big deal.
“Oh,” I mumble as my heart sinks.
I haven’t seen my boyfriend since he drove me down here six weeks ago. Doesn’t seem fair. After being apart and thinking he was dead, we finally reunite, only to be separated once again. This time the distance is much longer and much harder. It’s been barely a month, but somehow it feels like a whole year. Thank goodness for the one picture I have of us, or I’m pretty sure I’d forget what he looked like. Though his hotness will never be forgotten.
To make things worse, Sweeney forbids us from talking too, making sure no one tracks me here.
“But he will, I promise.” She reaches over and cups my hand. “I know this is hard on you, Chicken. But things will fall into place very soon, I promise.”
Tears sting my eyes as everything mushes together. I miss Mom, and the thought of getting rid of Dad’s house is almost unbearable. That house is all we have left of him. Of us as a family. Without it, he’s gone and our family is forever changed. Not that’s it’s the same.
To make things even worse, not seeing or even talking to Mo is horribly painful. And in my mind, everything—this whole mess—is my fault. If I hadn’t gotten obsessed with finding Dad, tracking those poachers, and taking down Al, maybe we’d all be together now. If I hadn’t realized Katie, Al’s stepsister, was part of a real estate conspiracy that caused the deaths of many endangered red wolves, maybe none of this would have ever happened.
Maybe then, Dad would be alive. My family would be safe. Mo and I would be together.
And my ongoing nightmare about Al finding me would finally go away.
Then again, maybe not.
Rex jumps in and breaks the awkward silence. “How about we take the boat out? We can fish. Get some peace and quiet.”
“You’re not working today?” Birdee asks.
He shrugs. “It’s Sunday. I don’t have anyone booked. Can’t imagine going out on the water without taking my two favorite ladies. Dylan can come too.”
Birdee squeezes my hand. “That sounds fun. Doesn’t it, Chicken?”
I nod as I make my cold eggs skate in figure eights around my plate, “Sure, why not?”
I haven’t been fishing in a long time. And even though I won’t be flyfishing, maybe getting out on the water will lift my spirits.
It always has in the past.
Then again, floating in alligator-infested sludge is not my idea of peaceful.