Wynn in the Willows (11 page)

Wynn felt a sudden chill.

“Wynn!” Roxie came up. “I'm going home with Jackie for the rest of the day.”

“Is everything all right?”

Roxie and Jackie exchanged anxious expressions.

“Fine. Everything is fine.”

“I'll see you for dinner, then?”

“Go ahead and eat without me tonight.”

They headed to the parking lot.

“I'm free this evening,” Frank offered light-heartedly, rocking back on his heels. “Seems to me you are as well.”

“I really should be leaving, too. Thank you for the lovely meal, and the chocolate cake was beyond scrumptious.”

“But, I thought we'd get together later.”

“Oh, no, not today.”

“Another time?”

“Perhaps.” Wynn offered a token of hope, which seemed to satisfy Frank.

When Wynn arrived at theTree House, she peered over the steering wheel.

A four foot tall black mailbox had mysteriously bloomed while she was gone. Silver brushed letters spelled out Wynn Baxter. She pulled the box open and found a common fossil. Wynn ran her hand over the smooth stone. “Doug, thank you,” she whispered.

Climbing the steps, she considered the book of Matthew's mustard seed parable. Others found their refuge in God, whereas she found this place her refuge from the past.

Maybe her mother would realize just how much she needed Wynn, too, and promise never to leave again. Between her mother's absence, Roxie's mysteriousness, and going sailing with Doug, she couldn't stand being alone with her thoughts anymore.

What she needed was a good, long run.

 

 

 

 

14

 

The sun made the morning shadows vanish and took the chill off the air. The marina at Willow Island was already bustling with activity. A catamaran flying a brightly colored flag was loaded with tourists. The regular ferry that ran back and forth between Egg Harbor and Willow Island at three hour intervals was just arriving. Morning day-trippers, anxious to stake their claim to a front row spot in the sand with their umbrellas, held folding chairs and coolers.

“You aren't taking me someplace to hurt me, are you?” She joked as a lightness buoyed between them. “By the way, this is my first time on a schooner.”

“That's not exactly what I had planned for the day.” Doug laughed. “Besides, I'm probably one of the safest guys on earth.”

“OK, can you tell me where you are taking me, then?”

“You will know when we get there. Until then, it's a mystery. It's how things work around here.”

Taking Doug's hand, Wynn stepped off the dock into the stern of the eighty-foot schooner. Her attention was swallowed up by the style of the unique craft. “Just look at her lines! Not many boats are made entirely of wood anymore. What a beaut!”

“She was made in the nineteen thirties, during the FDR presidency,” he explained. “We're cheating today. My vessel is motor powered, so we aren't pulling her sails this morning.” Doug turned the key and the engines rumbled.

Water churned, yet the schooner remained docked until the cleats were slipped off the bollard. The throttle shifted into forward. The pier slipped away and they picked up speed. The bow pointed northeast.

Backpack filled with enough provisions for two days, Wynn was ready for her one-day excursion. Her skin warmed; she tugged off her light jacket and tossed it aside. She lounged back on a weathered deck chair, studying Doug, trying to figure him out, while still feeling the embarrassing aftershocks of the stupid words she'd uttered when he caught her with birding glasses. The unfortunate banter had turned words to cotton in her mouth.

Roxie had warned her about Doug.

Wynn suspected he was the one who built her a mailbox and left a small token inside of it.

Taking the fossil from the backpack, she rolled it over in her hand. Was her hypothesis correct?

“It's a good day for sailing, but you look far too serious. What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“I am thinking about thanking you.”

“Good. You're having fun.”

“I am having fun, but that's not what I meant.” Wynn sat straighter. “I want to thank you for my mailbox.”

“Mailbox? I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Really?” Wynn opened her hand. Holding the fossil between her thumb and finger, she displayed it and walked over to him.

A smile spread across his features.

“And now I have something for you.” She pulled out a red straw.

“Thanks.” Doug stuck the end in his mouth.

There was an inside flutter, like a breeze across her heart that she couldn't ever remember having. “It's beautiful here,” she said, and looked away.

The schooner rounded Willow Island.

Passing boats blew their horns as skippers waved.

Wynn left the bow and leaned over the railing, briskly waving right back.

“It's camaraderie of the high seas!” Doug laughed, and then turned his attention to the teens hot-dogging on jet skis. There was no choice but to give them right of way. Soon, the schooner left the hodgepodge of water traffic far behind. The coast disappeared.

Only miles and miles of total blue remained. The achingly beautiful view of the sea charmed her as much as the rich, dark handmade stained wood deck of the schooner cutting through the water.

The man who stood at the helm looked at home in that spot.

Wynn returned to her deck chair and listened to the sea's voice as it sang the serene melody of all the ships that had sailed this way before them. Inhaling, she experienced an enormous sense of joy because the air was ripe with adventure and the sun shone cheerfully on the water.

Twenty minutes later, she spotted it. The twisted spit of land rose from the water like an arthritic fist coming out of the morning sun. Waves broke against the rocky shore. The wind smelled fresh, like springtime. The coast looked rugged.

They cruised all the way around to the west side.

Doug opened the rubber craft, helped Wynn climb in, and then tossed in their backpacks. He leapt into the smaller boat, grasped the pair of oars and began rowing.

“This island is part of the Willow Islands. There's a string of three. The one we live on is the only one allowed to be inhabited. The one we are headed towards is a reserve and you have to have a special pass to land here.” His light hair was soaked from the unseasonably humid air and intermittent showers of spray the wind threw over them.

“Do we have this special pass?” Wynn asked, braiding her hair back from her face.

“I have a permanent lifetime pass.” His smile was charmingly cocky.

“And how did you rate this honor?”

“All three of these islands used to belong to our family, but they were sold off in parcels, except for this one. My grandfather left it to me as its sole owner and developers were thinking of every which way to use laws and government to snatch it away.”

“I've seen that happen on the mainland, too.”

“The last thing I wanted was condos going up, so I donated the entire island to the National Wildlife and Habitats Commission.”

“Smart move. You don't like people much, do you?” Wynn asked uncritically, dipping her fingers in the water.

“I like people fine. What I don't like is how they take care of nature. You're about to see unusual migratory birds and colonial nesting birds, but that's not why we are here.”

“Then why are you taking me here?”

“Patience, my dear.”

They pulled the craft aground where the tide was negligible and there were breaks in the rocky shoals. Wynn followed Doug up the one-man gravel trail along the side of the cliff. He pointed out another trail, into dense vegetation. The foliage muffled the sounds of the waves, and Wynn could hear the call of birds.

Doug patiently waited each time she stopped to take a cutting and bag it.

The path narrowed as they descended into a valley. Perspiration dripped from their foreheads as their clothes became sticky with humidity. Cinnamon ferns grew in great abundance alongside maidenhair, and hammock fern. Further along were huge bouquets of common striped native plants with long plumes of pink flowers. Sunny spots interrupted pools of breezy shade. The scent of wildflowers wafted. There were streams and hidden strawberries tucked among gnarly wild vines.

Doug stopped to point to the Dwarf Lake Iris and Pitcher's Thistle, both federally protected.

Wynn took pictures and noted it all in her logbook. When she finished cutting, and then bagging her last specimen, she looked up.

He held her gaze.

Only the sea had ever had this effect on her, this fluttery, adventurous spell, holding her captive. A blush bloomed on her cheeks.

“You do have the most mysterious expressions. I would love to know what you're thinking about now,” he said. A faded white rope of a scar ran from his temple through his eyebrow.

Wynn stared at him, finding something both intriguing and incongruous about Doug's personality. He was slightly introverted, an observer—but totally charming once he let one in. And next to her dad, he had to be the most interesting person she had ever met. He appreciated the wild—the sea, the growing things, the wonders of nature, just like she did.

“Hello?” He waved his hand in front of her face.

“This is the best day I've ever had. And I cannot help but compare what I see here with how I was raised on city streets. I can never be happy living with a postage stamp of a garden that is toxic with pesticides.”

“I like you!” Doug turned and led the way again.

And I like you.

The terrain was uneven as they reached the top of a hillside, where the view was the best she had ever seen.

But Doug moved downward again, forged ahead with some secret destination in mind. When he stopped to drink from his canteen, he first offered it to her.

Although she had her own, she gratefully accepted his. They took a break and had granola bars. She sliced her apple in half sharing it with him. His sea gray eyes flashed from the apple to her face. “Thanks.” The sound of his voice was thick and tender; making a lump form in her stomach that wasn't from the granola.

Wynn heard a songbird and looked up to see the flicker of feathers from a Kirtland's warbler. She grabbed the binoculars. A single male without any identification leg bands. These birds liked to live under the boughs of young jack pine trees, and there were plenty of them here.

“We're just about there.” Doug grabbed his backpack and pressed on.

The stream they waded through was knee deep and felt refreshing. Wynn stopped halfway through and looked at the minnows swimming about her ankles in the clear water.

“Want to stop here for a few minutes?” he asked her.

“You bet I do!” Wynn slid her backpack off, gave it a hard push and sent it to shore. She pulled her hair out of the pony tail and plopped down into the stream, lying on her back, grateful to let the water flow over her body. Her hair floated out like tentacles. She kicked her feet and arms, trying to float on her back, but she sagged to the stream's bottom. “It's not deep enough!” she complained good-naturedly.

“You're not hard to be with.” Dough laughed as he followed her example.

“Thanks. As you can see, I like nature.” A minnow swam into her shirt tickling her. She sat up and jiggled it out. She let the water flow over her legs.

“You don't talk and scare away the wildlife. And you're not afraid of the heat.” He sat up, too, bracing elbows on his wet knees.

“I consider those high praises.”

“That's how I meant them.”

“Thanks for sharing this place with me.” Wynn locked gazes with him.

“How did you get so interested in biology and the ecosystem?”

“It happened long before college.” Wynn leaned back on her elbows. “It's part of my DNA. It's a strand called imustknowthat.”

“Oh?”

“Yep, I grew up going from one family member to another as if I was a project someone had to do. Since I didn't seem to attach to people well, I began to attach to whatever I found in the environment. I cleared out a dresser drawer to arrange my finds in alphabetical order. I'm not kidding.”

“And what would I see in that drawer?”

“Glittery rocks, leaves, petrified geckos, a hornet's nest…I see my hobby as a refined talent.” She wanted to run her hand through his thick curly hair.

 

 

 

 

15

 

“I was in the carriage house garage not long ago and got a good look at your lab. You've upgraded your collections since your drawer days.”

“Really? You saw my collections?”

“As you would say ‘yep'.”

Wynn tried to cover her annoyance. Someone had dared to walk right into her lab that was filled with expensive equipment and endless hours of research. She needed to put a lock on that door. A curious person who meant no harm could easily ruin it, making her lose her grant.

“I didn't touch anything, Wynn. I was there to flip a switch in the breaker box. I know enough about research to know the smallest contamination could ruin months of work.” Doug had read her consternation easily. “I can put a lock on the door, and next time, I'll make sure it's OK with you. At the time, I didn't realize that's where you'd set up.”

“OK,” Wynn was mollified. “I'm sorry, I tend to be protective.”

“Rightfully so.” Doug got out of the stream.

Five minutes later, they had arrived.

The sight took her breath away.

The valley was filled with colonies of the Calypso orchid.

It brought tears to Wynn's eyes to see it thriving prolifically. “This orchid seed is the tiniest in the world and they can travel for miles with a good wind.”

“Take another look. We are enclosed on all sides by thirty-foot hills. It serves as a bowl effect which keeps most of the seeds germinating right here. And this is the perfect time of the year to see them like this.” Doug dropped his pack and sat down, leaning one shoulder blade against it.