Chapter 24 #3
“Actually, yes. Grab the notebook. When I spot birds I don’t recognize, I’ll have you write down their traits so I can look them up later.
I prefer to stay in the moment rather than searching the guidebook or the web to identify it.
When you do that, you miss the bird. They tend to fly away. Rascals.”
“Be the court reporter. Got it.”
I seek out my new feathered friend, finding him in short order, and then put the binoculars to my eyes to zoom in. “There he is. It’s a black and white warbler.”
“And is that a lifer for you?”
“Nope.” I inhale, slowly releasing a peaceful sigh. “But he’s beautiful. His coloring is amazing. You need to see him.”
Tranquility drapes over me, soothing my tattered soul. And it hits me all at once.
This is it.
This is my joy.
As nerdy or boring as it might be, birding has always enthralled me. When I was a small child, I recall listening eagerly to my aunt rambling about all the birds she’d ticked in between her visits. I convinced her to bring us on her next outing.
From that day forward, I was hooked. The fresh air. The sounds. The animals. The beauty of nature. The thrill of the chase, hoping to find rarely seen birds to add to my life list. I adore absolutely everything about this.
Zara wasn’t as obsessed as me, but she did it eagerly for me.
Zara.
Not even the darkest day of my life could cast a shadow dark enough to eclipse my love for birding. Instead of driving me away from it, the loss did the opposite.
Out here, doing this, there’s no space for sadness or emptiness. No regret or remorse. There’s only soul-healing tranquility.
And joy.
I’d forgotten how simple and perfect this can be. And the weird thing is, I don’t know why I ever stopped.
“So caught up in the day to day . . .” I mutter quietly, my thoughts escaping.
“What’s that?” Reed asks.
“I was just thinking how I’ve been so caught up in the monotony of life that I haven’t done this in far too long.”
I lower the binoculars, hand them to him, and take the notebook. “Thanks for reminding me of my joy, Reed.”
His returning smile makes a home in a part of my soul that’s long been vacant. “You’re welcome, cookie.”
The earnestness of the moment and the weight of his gaze on me soon become too much.
Internally shaking myself out of his spell, I flick my gaze to the tree tops to find the beauty. “He’s still up there.”
“Are you gonna tell me what I’m looking for, or am I on my own? There are lots of birds out here.”
Quashing a giggle, I move closer to him and try to line up our faces as best as possible despite the height difference. I point at the bird, hoping he’ll align his view with mine. He does.
“See that group of trees that resembles a lopsided W?”
He shuffles behind me, providing me with oodles of naughty imagery. After he lowers his chin to my shoulder, his chest brushes my back with his deep inhale. “Fuck, you smell good.”
My vagina slow blinks.
Twice.
I’d like to tell him to stop being gross because there’s no chance my sweat smells good. But knowing Reed, he’d find a way to turn that around on me. So I stiffen my pointer finger arm, silently attempting to focus him on the tree line.
“Okay, I see the W. Now what?”
“He’s on the tree that makes the left part of the W shape. Look way up at the top. You’re searching for a tiny black and white little guy. He’s perched on a branch coming out of the right side of that tree. About five feet away from the trunk.”
I wait for him to find it while my eyes begin seeking out other birds. Not for my life list. Just because. I spot two other species before he finds the warbler.
“Got it.” Stepping out from behind me—thank goodness—Reed shifts to my side and lifts the binoculars to his eyes.
After a few seconds, he proudly announces, “I see him. Put him on my life list.”
“Congrats on lifer number one, Reed.”
He keeps the binoculars up, clearly enjoying the view of the warbler.
Then he smiles.
And I melt.
It isn’t a flirty grin or a smirk. It’s genuine happiness. He isn’t putting on a show for me.
I get lost in his profile, reveling in the chance to study him when he can’t see me staring. He’s almost as captivating a view as the nature surrounding us.
Possibly more.
Eventually, we resume our gradual trek through the forest. We spot dozens of birds from eighteen different species, none of them lifers for me.
But I don’t care.
Because I’m full of warmth and happiness.
And for this brief moment in time, I almost feel whole.
Near the lake, we catch sight of a gorgeous red-bellied woodpecker. I adjust the setting, zooming in for a better look. “Oh, there’s a female with him.” My feet bounce as my excitement grows.
Keeping my eyes on the happy bird couple, I’m hit with another wave of joy. Through a breathy sigh of contentment, I confess, “I love this. Always have.”
“Yeah. Me too,” Reed whispers.
Surprised by his statement, I lower the binoculars to peek at him. But he’s not looking at the woodpecker.
He’s looking directly at me.
My heart skips a beat, and I struggle to get a full breath.
Blinking, he jerks his gaze away and stammers, “Be-being outside, I mean. Having a quiet day off.”
I catch a bob in his throat before averting my eyes. “I figured that’s what you meant.”
When the tension threatens to choke me, I respond the only way I know how. “Don’t you find it odd that someone is out there, randomly putting needles in haystacks? We need to get to the bottom of this to save the horses.”
He gives me a pity laugh. “Here we go again.” Taking my hand, he leads me toward the end of the boardwalk.
Since the awkwardness refuses to dissipate fully, I pile on the weirdness. “Did I tell you my cat’s name? It’s dog. What did you name yours?”
“Neither of us has cats, Lila.”
“That’s a weirder name than mine.” I shrug, then drop another gem. “Do you think beavers know what they’re named after?”
In the corner of my eye, I see his grin slowly overtaking his face. “Are we doing this?”
My mouth wriggles as I fight a smile while humming. “Leedle, leedle, leedle, loooo.”
He finally joins my nonsense buffoonery. “Scaramouche, scaramouche, will you do the fandango?”
In a showy booming voice, I announce, “Hi. Billy Mays here.”
Reed counters quickly. “Deez nuts.”
My chest trembles with repressed laughter. “Squidward’s nose looks like a limp penis. I just needed someone else to know that.”
“That’s not very cash money of you. Especially in this economy.”
I’ve done this stupid random phrase thing for most of my life. In all those years, Reed’s the only one who will indulge me. And then join in. More than likely, it’s why I first fell for him.
We all need someone to match our freak, right?
Too bad this is only a charade we’re playing.