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It would take more than a few months with a child psychiatrist to make Sean disloyal to his father’s teachings now.
But the night Logan had brought Sean home, his bike in the flatbed of a Two Wings truck, had given her a glimmer of hope.
They’d rung the bell politely, and then Logan had stood with his hand on the boy’s shoulder, as if to lend moral support, while Sean had explained about sneaking out to retrieve the body of the bird.
Nora had hardly recognized her son that night. No stubborn silence, no slippery fibs, no tantrums. Just the truth, offered somberly, even apologetically, with a glimpse of the grown man he would someday be.
She’d kept her own tone equally forthright, though she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t upset, or that there wouldn’t be a punishment.
Then, together, the three of them had come up with this plan.
It called for Sean to work at Two Wings three hours every Saturday morning, and two hours every Monday, Wednesday and Friday until the damage was paid off.
His salary would be five dollars an hour. Logan had estimated the damage at five hundred dollars, though Nora suspected him of minimizing the mess. Still, Sean would clearly be working into the summer. That night, he’d seemed reconciled to the plan.
But as the first day grew closer, his anxiety had increased, and out came the attitude. By this morning, he’d been sullen, difficult to rouse. He “lost” the green Two Wings T-shirt Logan had provided, groused about the jeans and sneakers his volunteer training sheet called for, and presented himself at the breakfast table with a scowl and no appetite.
She had a feeling Logan was going to regret his decision to bring Sean on board.
“See?” Sean shoved his car door shut, then looked around the empty parking lot. “Told you he forgot. There’s no one here.”
“Maybe we’re early.”
But she saw his point. Two Wings seemed deserted. The only sounds were the sawing of unseen crickets, the croaking of invisible frogs and the occasional melodic whistle of birds that flitted between the trees.
The ticket window, still unmarked awaiting the formal opening of the sanctuary to the public, was firmly shut, reflecting back only the blue sky and the ancient trees.
“He’s probably in the clinic,” she said, trying to remember how to get to the main part of the sanctuary. In the eighteen months since Logan Cathcart had moved in, she’d only been here once, the day she came to apologize for Sean’s vandalism.
She knew the general layout of the land, because she used to visit often when it was owned by Logan’s great-aunt, Doreen Cathcart. Doreen had been eccentric, but a kind woman. She’d never liked Harrison, who thought her land was wasted and wanted to buy it. But she’d always welcomed Nora and the boys.
The house was over on the western edge of the property. On the other side, Doreen had built an odd little amphitheater. She’d hoped to turn the whole estate into a performance arts center, but the dream died with the amphitheater when the money ran out.
“He might be back where those big enclosures are,” she said, trying to orient herself now. “I went down that little boardwalk, off to the left.”
He seemed unsure whether he should admit that he knew where that was.
She waited.
“Okay, fine. It’s back here.” Sean moved to the left, where the wooden boardwalk snaked through the trees.
He obviously knew his way well, and she wondered how often he might have been here. He’d been caught twice now, but was that all?
A chill crept through her as she watched him walk confidently through the heavily wooded maze, never hesitating when the boardwalk forked off in different directions.
How many lies had he been telling her? Would she have to take all freedom away from him? Was there to be no more fun, no more riding his bike with his friend Paddy James, or helping the ranch hands with the horses? Would she have to peek into his room every few minutes when he played video games, or did his homework, or even while he slept?
Would she ever be able to trust him again?
As they walked, birdcalls grew louder, and after a couple of hundred yards, the trees thinned and the path ended in a large open area filled with huge, screened-in wood pens.
And Nora saw that Two Wings was far from empty.
It bustled with life.
The enclosures were filled with hawks and eagles and owls and vultures. That didn’t surprise her. She’d seen them last week.
But, unlike last week, the place was teeming with human life, too.
At least half a dozen people moved purposefully about, ignoring the concrete paths and taking shortcuts across the sand and grass. They lugged hoses and bags of feed, rakes and brooms and boards. One man carried a large hawklike bird on his gloved hand.
“Sean. Good. You made it.”
Logan’s voice brought Nora out of her dazed surprise. She’d completely misunderstood the scale of the place. Harrison had always been so dismissive that she’d assumed Two Wings must be some kind of dilettante’s hobby.
But this was no hobby. This was a mission.
Logan nodded at Nora. “Thanks for bringing him. See you at eleven?”
She felt Sean tense up beside her. She smiled at Logan, hoping he’d understand. “I’m sorry to be the hovering mother, but could you show me a little of what Sean will be doing while he’s here?”
Logan didn’t exactly look delighted, though he was too nice a man to refuse, no matter how busy he was.
“No problem,” he said. “But remember it’s not glamorous.” He held out his hands, which were stained and gritty. “We’ve been spreading mulch. To tell you the truth, I’m going to be darn glad to let Sean take over.”
“Mulch?” Sean scowled. “I thought I’d be working with the birds.”
“Sean,” Nora admonished. “You’ll do whatever Mr. Cathcart—”
“No,” Logan said bluntly. “You won’t be working with the birds yet. You won’t be doing anything alone. We don’t take regular volunteers under the age of eighteen, so you’re kind of a special case. Todd or Matt will work with you. They’re good. You’ll learn a lot from them.”
“I think I can clean out a bunch of cages.” Sean frowned. “I’m not an idiot.”
“No, but you’re a beginner. Beginners make mistakes, and either they get hurt, or the birds do.”
Sean’s mouth was still set hard, but after a couple of seconds of trying to stare Logan down, he blinked first. He lowered his gaze, toeing the sand with his sneaker.
“Yeah,” he said under his breath. “Fine.”
Nora’s cheeks burned, but Logan didn’t seem overly concerned about his new volunteer’s attitude. Maybe he’d expected nothing better. That was probably why he’d been so reluctant to let Sean participate. He undoubtedly knew he’d have to assign someone to follow the boy around like a nanny, to be sure he didn’t do something dumb.
Or just plain run away.
Logan might have said he didn’t want a donation from her, but she suddenly saw that it would take a mighty big check to compensate for the hassle Sean was likely going to be.
Scattered among the large bird enclosures were several small, neat, officelike buildings. Logan began leading them toward the one marked Clinic. Off to the side of that building, a couple of teenagers were scattering handfuls of dark chips that smelled like pine-bark mulch.
“Hey, Mark. Todd.” Logan waved toward the teens. “Come meet Sean—”
But at that moment a young girl’s head poked out of the clinic door. “Logan, the vet’s on the phone. He’s in a hurry, but he says Fritz is ready, and he needs to talk to you about Punk.”
Logan nodded. “Thanks, Dolly. I’ll take it.” He looked at Nora. She thought it might be time to depart. She was about to open her mouth and say so when he suddenly cocked his head. “Want to see one of our permanent residents?”
She looked at Sean, but he deliberately turned his head, just to show how unimpressed he was.
She smiled at Logan apologetically. “If it’s not too much trouble, that would be very cool.”
The clinic was small, more like a condo kitchenette than a vet’s office. When all four of them bundled inside, and Logan made quick introductions, there wasn’t much room to spare.
She usually avoided being this close, physically, to Logan. She never sat next to him at meetings, or gave him the same casual hug she might have given any other acquaintance she met on the street.
It was partly because of Harrison’s suspicions. But it was also a self-protective choice. As absurd as it sounded for a thirty-two-year-old housewife, Logan Cathcart gave her butterflies.
She wasn’t really sure why. Though he was amazing to look at, with his dark hair, his intense blue eyes and his six feet of lean muscle, she was completely immune to a hundred men equally well-endowed.
But Logan’s masculinity obviously transmitted on her frequency, and she wasn’t sure she ever completely concealed the jitters. The best bet had seemed to be maintaining a cordial distance.
Today, though, in such cramped quarters, she didn’t have much choice. And, with her emotions so caught up in Sean’s problems, anything as frivolous as butterflies seemed unlikely. She just tried to stay out of anyone’s way.
“Kind of messy, isn’t it?” Sean let his scornful gaze drift over the cupboards and bookshelves that lined the walls, overflowing with medical tomes and binders from various federal and state agencies.
“Sean,” she said, her voice stiff with warning.
Logan chuckled as he took the phone from Dolly. “Yeah, it’s a mess, all right. Maybe that would be a good job for you tomorrow.”
In the corner, hand puppets that looked like birds had been tossed into a basket. Sean went over to inspect them, but tossed each one back indifferently, as if they didn’t pass the test. Dolly ignored him, fiddling with instruments that looked like tiny forceps.
Logan’s phone call was brief, a few monosyllabic words that seemed to indicate satisfaction. Apparently the vet’s news was good, though Nora wondered how often that was the case. Surely not all the birds brought here found happy endings.
She looked at Sean, his tense, bony shoulders and his unruly red hair that stood up in a tuft at the part. For a minute she saw him as another of Logan’s wounded birds, and wondered whether he would be one of the lucky ones.
“Sorry about that.” Logan joined them at the counter. “The vets we use are all volunteers, so I had to catch him while he was free. Dolly, I’ll weigh Gulliver today. If you could make sure the status sheets in the pens are ready, that would be great.”
The young woman, whose hair was brown with purple tips, and whose nose was decorated with a serious piece of hardware, smiled amiably.
“Sure thing, boss,” she said, waving at Nora and Sean before skipping out the door and down the path toward the larger enclosures.
Logan moved to the farthest countertop, where cages stood in rows next to large scales and microscopes and first aid supplies.
“Gulliver is one of the birds we’re going to use for education,” Logan said as he opened a large gray cage and peeked in. “Hey, buddy,” he said to whatever occupant waited inside. “Time to see how fat you’re getting, living the life of leisure.”
He put his hand in slowly, and when he pulled it out, he held the most adorable piece of brown-and-white fluff Nora had ever seen. She smiled instinctively, and when she glanced at Sean, she saw that his scowl had deepened, which she knew meant he was working hard to suppress his curiosity.
“Oh, how darling,” she said. “Sean, look! It’s a baby owl!”
Sean moved dramatically away, sighing to communicate his boredom. But he remained angled, so that he could still glimpse the little bird out of the corners of his eyes.
Of course he was fascinated. How could he not be?
The owl was so cute Nora had to laugh. About six inches long, it fit neatly in the palm of Logan’s large hand.
And then the hand itself was almost too much of a distraction. It was definitely not a rancher’s hand, with its graceful, long lines. She was surprised to see the elegant fingers tipped in calluses.
Sean made an impatient sound as he toyed with the instruments on the counter.
“I thought,” he said, “that you weren’t supposed to let them see people much, so that they don’t imprint on humans.”
Nora gave her son a hard look, and she was glad to see that he flushed, obviously aware that his tone had been out of bounds. What made him think he could teach Logan his own business?
“Been reading up?” Logan nodded, as if he approved. “You’re right. For a baby, we’d have to wear the puppet, or even the whole outfit. But Gulliver here isn’t a baby. He’s a fully grown Eastern screech owl, and unfortunately somebody already let him imprint on humans before he got to us.”
“But he’s so small,” Nora said. “He’s fully grown?”
“I know.” Logan scratched the side of the bird’s head. The owl seemed quite content to lounge in his hand, blinking its large, shiny eyes at him sleepily. “They don’t get much bigger than this. And they don’t screech, either. Weird, huh?”
Sean was no longer pretending not to watch. His hands were fisted at chest level, as if he had to force himself not to reach out and touch the intricately patterned feathers.
Nora met Logan’s gaze over her son’s head. She wondered if he knew how embarrassed she was by Sean’s behavior.
Or how worried.
But she couldn’t read anything in Logan’s blue eyes except a polite patience.
“I should probably get going,” she said.
She should. She had a million things to do, and she was postponing the moment when Sean would have to adjust. Maybe, when the safety net that Mommy provided was gone, he’d settle down and behave.
If he didn’t, she knew it wouldn’t be long before Logan kicked his surly attitude out of here. Two Wings wasn’t occupational therapy for bratty boys. This was, as she’d observed earlier, a mission.
Logan Cathcart cared about this place and these birds. He wouldn’t waste much time on a nasty kid who didn’t understand that.
So she needed to let them get to work.
She moved toward the door.
“I’ll be back at eleven, Sean, all right?” She put her hand on the knob.
“I guess.” Sean stood stiffly.
She opened the door, looking over her shoulder. To her surprise, Logan was watching her, his hand gently holding the ball of fluff in place on the scale.
When she hesitated, his eyes softened, and he nodded briefly. The gesture was oddly comforting.
It’ll be okay, that nod seemed to say. I’ll take care of him.
She might be imagining it. God knew she’d imagined a lot of things about Logan Cathcart over the past eighteen months. Things that weren’t real, and never would be.
But, as she let the door shut behind her and made her way back to the parking lot, she realized she felt a whole lot better anyhow.
