Skyward (12 page)

Maggie stood up, then smoothed the wrinkles from the comforter in long strokes. When she straightened again, she loomed tall over Ella, her face thoughtful.

“Seriously, Ella, be patient with him. Visionaries are a unique brand of people. They inspire us. They challenge us to live up to the possibilities. But sometimes, they don’t see the forest for the trees. They work with a single-minded focus, forgetting mundane things like eating, putting on socks and kicking back to relax once in a while. They feel responsible and they give
everything.
You see, Harris doesn’t mean
not
to be there for Marion. In his mind, I’m sure he thinks he’s doing everything he can. I know he’s riddled with guilt that she got so sick. I mean, here he takes care of all these birds, notices whenever the slightest thing isn’t right, but he missed these big problems in his own child. You’ve got to know that digs deep. He may not tell you this, but he’s so relieved that you’re here.
I’m
glad you’re here, too. I’ve worried about him and Marion both and do my best to keep an eye on them. Sherry does, too. But she’s getting old and I’ve got my own husband and children to hustle home to at the end of the day.”

Ella was slow to respond, not sure what to say. “I’ll do the best I can.”

Maggie smiled reassuringly. “I know you will.” Then she turned serious again. “I guess what I’m trying in my own clumsy way to say is…Harris is a good man, Ella. He’s spent his whole life taking care of others. First his mama. Then his wife. And now Marion. He doesn’t know how to let someone take care of him for a change. He doesn’t know how to slow down and enjoy life. He’s never had the chance.”

As though uncomfortable with the heightened emotion, Maggie waved her hand and said in a rush, “Oh, listen to me. I was his first recruit here and we’ve worked together from the start. I guess I’ve grown a little territorial about him.”

“And you want me to go easy on him?”

“Yeah, something like that. And I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“Hurt? By me? How could I ever do that?”

“Like I said, I’m just a worrier.”

“You must really care about him to say all this to me.”

“I do. We all do. And we care about little Marion, too. We’ve all taken turns baby-sitting for her ever since she was a baby. She runs around the place, getting underfoot, even though she’s not supposed to be near the birds.” She shrugged. “We’ve made do as best we could. But that’s what life is all about, isn’t it?”

Ella took a deep breath and nodded. She certainly knew better than most how to make do.

She was glad for this conversation with Maggie and for the insights gleaned. She learned that she was clearly the outsider, the new kid on this block of spirited, complex characters. She only hoped she’d fit in.

“It’s late,” she said, rising to a stand. “Time to fix dinner.” She crossed her arms and surveyed their work. Even sparsely furnished, the cabin was filled. The bed was piled high with blankets and the bright colors of the hooked rug warmed the room as much as the heater. “It’s not the Ritz, but I think Lijah will be comfortable here.”

“I hope you’ll be comfortable here, too,” Maggie said. Then, impulsively, she stepped forward to wrap her arms around Ella in a bear hug.

“Welcome.”

The cold snap in the Lowcountry finally ended. February winds blew the gray clouds out to sea and ushered in skies of blinding azure clarity. Brady wiped his brow, then hoisted the large kennel and stacked it on the row with all the others—nineteen in all. The past two Wednesdays after school and two whole Saturdays he’d scrubbed off bird shit so baked on it was like chiseling rock. It didn’t matter what they called it—mutes, dung or guano—shit was shit, as far as he was concerned. He’d bent over these damn kennels and scrubbed till he’d worn through two wire brushes and chapped his hands raw.

But he was done now, and looking at all the kennels stacked up neatly against the wall, he couldn’t deny a kind of satisfaction that surprised him. More fouled-out kennels would be coming soon enough, if the number of injured birds he’d seen brought in were any indication. Mostly owls, though he didn’t know why. It was kind of sad, seeing them all banged up. Sometimes one of their eyes was badly smashed. And the folks that brought them in were real worried about them. That surprised him, too. He’d grown up thinking wildlife was just out there for the taking. He’d never wondered about how the animals or birds were faring or what to do if he saw one hurt. Nature took care of itself, didn’t it?

Brady was getting used to the place. It was weird at first, being around all these wild birds. They glared at him when he went by their cages, almost as much as the people did.

Sure, he knew the staff would be mad at him when he first came here. Everyone knew
why
he was here, after all. But he didn’t know it would rankle, even after a few weeks. Harris was the boss around here and everyone took his or her cue from him. Harris never said anything mean to him, but he wasn’t cutting him any breaks, neither. Maggie only came by to stick her nose in and check up on what he was doing, more to let him know she was keeping an eye on him. Other volunteers came and went; there were different ones every day. Most of them were decent. At least they said hello. But some of them only gave him a glare, just like the birds. Not that Brady cared.
As if.

The only one who treated him decent was the old man. He couldn’t figure that one out, considering it was his eagle that got shot. When Brady had first heard that Lijah would be in charge of him, he figured the old man would make his life at the center a living hell. Not that scrubbing kennels was fun…but Lijah treated Brady with the same respect he treated everyone else.

“The kennels finished?”

Brady spun around, heart pounding. Swear to God, he could never hear that man approach. Did he walk on air or something? Lijah was carrying two cans of Coke and, coming near, handed one of them to Brady.

“Figured you’d worked up a thirst, eh?”

“Thanks.” He gulped down some soda, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Didn’t know I could work up such a sweat when it’s cold outdoors. Some of those kennels were a bitch to clean.”

“You done a fine job,” Lijah said, approval ringing in his voice. “Ain’t complain none, neither.” They both stood and drank their Cokes in silence, looking out at the kennels as though they were the most interesting things in the world. When they finished their drinks, Lijah took the cans, rinsed them, and put them in the recycle bin while Brady put away the cleaning supplies and wound up the hose.

When his chores were done, Brady stood with his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels and wondering what to do next. Lijah stood a few feet away, one foot in front of the other. He had this serene look on his face while he stared out over the compound with his hands held behind his back. Brady didn’t interrupt him. His daddy had taught him never to interrupt an elder but to wait until he was spoken to.

After a short spell, Lijah faced him and said in an easy drawl, “It’s time you see what all this work here is for.”

Brady hustled to follow Lijah’s long stride across the yard toward the medical pens. He felt excited, especially since he’d expected to be handed a shovel and pickax and told to start digging the ditch along the road. That’s what Harris had said, anyway. Brady was real curious about the raptors, but he’d never told anyone this. He was careful to keep his face passive as he followed Lijah. He’d learned it didn’t pay to let any one know how he really felt.

The med pens were housed in one long unit separated from the clinic by a grouping of overgrown shrubs and shaded by leggy pines and an old live oak tree. Lijah undid the latches and swung open the wood-and-screen door. Stepping inside, Brady saw that there were nine pens in all, four on each side of a cement walkway and one far in the back. They were made of wood with inch-wide spaces between that allowed him to peek inside. Overhead, a green plastic dome and screening gave the area the feeling of a conservatory.

A teenage black girl was in there, carrying a pale green plastic tray loaded down with fat white rats and black mice, some of them gutted, and a few large fish. She carried these to the birds with grace, as though she were serving royalty.

Brady was struck by how beautiful she was. She was slender and nearly as tall as he was. Beneath her fleece jacket she wore the same white T-shirt with the Coastal Carolina Center for Birds of Prey logo on it that all the volunteers wore. Everyone except for him, of course.

“Morning, Clarice,” Lijah said, holding up his hand in greeting.

“Morning, Lijah,” she replied with a dazzling smile. Then she glanced toward Brady and her smile fell to a scowl. “What’s
he
doing in here?” she asked. “Harris said he didn’t want him near the birds.”

“He’s with me,” Lijah replied evenly. “Go on about your business.”

Clarice’s finely arched brows furrowed with displeasure, but she did as she was told. Brady watched with rapt attention as she opened up a pen and quickly slipped inside. He heard a rustling of feathers against wood and her voice, soft and low, crooning, “It’s okay. I’m just leaving you some break fast.”

Lijah cleared his throat and Brady swung his head toward him.

“Close each door soon as you pass through,” Lijah told him. He refastened the main door behind them. “Every pen really have to be closed fast fast. Watch how she bolts each door two times.”

Brady watched Clarice close one pen, then move with her tray delicately balanced on a slim hip into the second one. Each time, she carefully unlatched and latched the door.

“Don’t ever forget these the wild birds and they want to git out at ya! Sometimes they do, even when you’re careful. Last week one of them screech owls sneak out quick. They’re little and fast and can go right through a small opening. Took us forever to catch him. If we keep this outer door shut, they can’t get out into the wild. If they do, they’re gone for good. They ain’t heal yet and most likely won’t survive out yonder. You have to be real careful or one’ll escape.”

“I won’t be allowed to work in here with the birds, anyway.”

“Keep what I say in mind. You never know.”

Brady moved over to the first pen and peeked inside. Two black vultures sat high on the upper perch. They were ugly cusses. With their bald heads, wrinkled skin and long black feathers held close, they looked like craggy old men in overcoats, hunched together on a park bench. When he drew nearer, they fluffed up a bit and hissed at him, sounding like acetylene torches at full blast. Then one of them threw up a vile-smelling substance.

“Whoa, take it easy, man,” he said, stepping back.

“You shouldn’t go so close,” Clarice scolded. “That’s their defense.”

Brady ducked his head.

“Move slow slow,” Lijah instructed him with his gentle tone. “Keep down the talk. They ain’t like people around so close. It ain’t natural.”

Lijah walked to Pen 3, stopped and bent closer to look inside. From the corner of his eye, Brady watched him and thought the old man’s face fairly glowed with affection.

“That her?”

“That’s her.”

Brady was curious but held back, filled with dread.

“Hey, Santee,” Lijah said in a low, soft voice. “How’s my best gal? You better today? You sure look fine. Someone’s here to meet you.”

He looked over to Brady and gave a quick, encouraging wave of his hand. Brady stuck his hands in his pockets and drew near, peeking between the wooden slats.

Inside, a bald eagle stood on a perch close to the ground. She was a big bird, with shiny black feathers and a white crested head. Her low brow hung over her yellow beak, making her bright yellow eyes appear more ferocious.

“I don’t think she likes me.”

Clarice heard this and snorted.

“Probably not,” Lijah replied, ignoring her. “Truth be told, she ain’t like most of us. That’s okay, though. Ain’t supposed to like people.”

“Well, she gives a whole new meaning to the word
glare.
”

Lijah chuckled softly, still looking at the eagle like a father would his favorite child. He turned toward the sound of Clarice coming out of the last pen. “Yes, she sure can give a man a time.”

“They’re all fed,” Clarice said to Lijah. “I’ll be back later to check for leftovers. So how are you doing? I heard you’re staying in the cabin by the pond now.”

“Yes,” Lijah replied.

“Do you like it?”

“I do. It’s warm and clean. And most of all, it’s close to San tee. I can’t complain.”

“Well, we miss you. Everyone does. Mama about had a hissy fit when she heard you were camping out in the woods this time of year. And at your age!”

“Your mama can fuss.”

“She wants to know if you can come round for service tomorrow and then have dinner with us after. I’m to pick you up.”

“That’s fine. Tell your mama I’d like that. Do I need to bring something?”

“Just your stories.” When he was about to object, she said in a rush, “Really, Lijah, it’s our pleasure. I’ll be by around ten, if that suits you?”

“Suits me fine.”

Clarice bent to pick up her chart and tools, then headed for the door. “Bye now. See you Sunday.” She gave Brady a cool once-over before offering Lijah a farewell smile filled with warmth and affection.

Brady turned his head and pretended not to notice. He looked into the pen and carefully checked out the eagle’s bandaged wing. It was spotted with bright red blood.

“How’s she doing?”

“Fair to middling. Her wing’s healing pretty well, but she ain’t eating like she supposed to.”

Brady saw the large fish that Clarice had left lying on the stone at her feet, untouched. Santee didn’t seem the least interested in it.

“Why not?”

Lijah shrugged. “I ain’t know. It’s a worry.”

“Well, she looks pretty good. I mean, I wouldn’t go in there and mess with her, that’s for sure. Look at the size of those talons. She looks ready to rip me apart.”

“Eagles are that way,” Lijah replied, eyes on the bird. “Most birds of prey be that way. They can’t let it show if they’re feeling poorly or if they’re injured. They cover up their hurts, so other birds or animals don’t think they’re weak. Otherwise,
they
become the prey.”