Chapter 7 Bird-Watching Era
Bird-Watching Era
Jules
My gaze was unfocused as I looked out the sitting area windows into my backyard.
There were still several hours until dusk, but the April skies were gray.
I was not someone who struggled with seasonal affective disorder, but even I had to admit I was ready for more blue skies. And sun. Loads of sun.
It was funny—I didn’t notice the sun as much in the city.
Was it because I was surrounded by tall buildings wherever I walked?
I wasn’t sure. I mean, a gorgeous summer day was great, and no urban landscape could take away from that, but I somehow didn’t notice the changing of the seasons like I felt I’d already become attuned to down here.
Maybe that was the fact that I had about a mile walk to work each day.
That gave me the chance to notice small changes around me.
I also was headed there and back during daylight hours.
Sadly, working overtime had been my norm for years as I tried to keep up.
Possibly I hadn’t noticed seasons while in Chicago from a standpoint of sheer exhaustion.
Whatever the reason, I liked the new rhythm.
Right now I was staring at a bird feeder.
Yep. I was thirty years old and had my own bird feeder.
To be fair, Maeve had shown up with it yesterday and told me it would help me on this journey of appreciating the small things.
I wasn’t aware I had delineated a goal for any life journey for myself, but it couldn’t hurt.
Then Maeve shared that Lou had been in the Sanctuary that morning.
She’d apparently spilled the details that she’d interrupted a “moment” with Noah and me on Tuesday.
I tried to argue with Maeve that there had been no moment, but no luck—she was taking Lou’s words as the gospel truth.
She’d muttered something about maybe I wasn’t in the best place to see what was in front of me due to the “Chicago meltdown,” as Lou was calling it.
Apparently Maeve and Lou then held what Maeve referred to as a meeting of the minds, and the result was that I now had a metal pole complete with a squirrel baffle that had two tube bird feeders hanging from it.
Maeve even brought a bag of black-oil sunflower seed because she said Max recommended it and the other stuff sold is crap.
Had to admit, it took me a hot minute to even remember who Max was. I needed a tree diagram to keep up with these people.
Maeve stuck the pole in the ground outside my sitting area windows, so I had a view of the feeder while I was lounging in my cozy spot or writing.
Her recommendation was to download an app called Merlin Bird ID, and then she was off like a real live Santa that had come in and dumped gifts for no reason and left.
And while I can’t say I had “buy a bird feeder” on any to-do list of mine, all my free time for the past twenty-four hours found me watching the feeder.
Who knew there were so many varieties of birds?
So far that afternoon, I’d seen cardinals—males and females—robins, blue jays, and a black-capped chickadee.
Looking back to my laptop, I pulled up my story bible for my book.
It was sadly lackluster, which was one of the reasons I was stuck.
I had been struggling to visualize my hero; he had been stubbornly silent while my heroine had whispered in my ear.
Even then, I went to the column where I wrote down hobbies for my characters and added bird-watching to the heroine’s row because I felt sure my Maeve/ Maggie/ Kylie mash-up would enjoy the ridiculous names I’d been learning for some of the birds in the region. I mean, dickcissel? Come on.
Staring at the row on my story bible I had for my hero’s qualities, I started typing as a vague image began to come to mind.
Hmm, age around thirty seemed right. Height?
I thought of my heroine, whom I’d named Collette.
She was taller than me with curves for days.
If I had to write someone, why not write what I’d love to have?
Although her five foot five wasn’t much taller than me, but four inches was nothing to sneeze at. I’d certainly take it.
I thought about the guys I’d met down here. All were six feet or taller. Let’s start there. Six two seemed good. Hmm, a name. I wanted something a bit pretentious. Collette wasn’t a typical name. What went with that? I looked out the window as I racked my brain. Maybe Julian?
Yes. Julian. Okay, so he was six foot two, dark hair, piercing blue eyes.
No, blue eyes weren’t common with dark hair.
But as I pictured Collette in my head, closing my eyes to visualize a partner for her, he definitely had blue eyes, though they were dark, almost a blue gray.
Okay, and maybe a sandy blond/brown hair.
My fingers flew across the keyboard, filling out my story bible and finding inspiration for my hero for the first time since I’d opened a doc for this book.
I added qualities for him as they popped into my mind, then opened a new tab and created a secret Pinterest board, adding inspiration pictures fast and furious. Then came the fun stuff.
I grabbed my large notebook and just let my mind wander, thinking through three story arcs—the arc for each of the main characters and what they overcome, then the arc for the romance and the obstacles for each.
As I thought of Julian and Collette, I pictured people who had money.
Where did they live? Maybe the Gold Cost in Chicago?
Or… what if Julian was a billionaire and Collette was his long-suffering assistant?
She’d had feelings for him forever but hadn’t acted because of their different lifestyles.
Maybe mid-book she would quit? I tried to let that story play out in my mind.
No, that wouldn’t work—they needed to get together far earlier than that. She could quit at the start.
I put a giant X through my paper. Living on the Gold Cost and working as an assistant didn’t match what I’d already brainstormed.
Starting over, I thought of Highland Woods.
The park outside town was gorgeous, but I hadn’t visited it since moving here.
I had, however, checked it out on earlier trips.
Julian could still be a billionaire, but maybe he and Collette didn’t know each other. She’d be out at the park to participate in one of the bird hikes I’d heard mentioned, and they run into each other on the trail. Or maybe they’re both on the hike?
The movie in my mind was rolling the scene that was unfolding. Did it feel right? As I watched Collette and Julian bump into each other, Collette fell to the ground. Julian turned to offer her a hand and…
Damn, he had Noah’s face. I shook my head. I’d already planned on borrowing some inspiration from Noah, but the man wasn’t a billionaire, so it was fine.
Speaking of Noah, I glanced to my phone.
I’d texted him in the morning that his taxes were done.
He wasn’t kidding—his were straightforward, and I’d been able to quickly get them done the previous day at work.
I’d said he could pick them up at the office during the day or I’d have them with me if he wanted to drop by my place.
Did I want him to pick the second option?
Yep, sure did. And I was refusing to examine that too closely.
Oh, my lock screen had several texts. I must have been deep into my fictional world to not hear the alerts when they came in. I looked at Noah’s first.
Noah: I was in Springfield this morning and just dropped Addie off with Jake and Ivy. Want to come to my place for dinner?
Um, yep, sure did. But then I thought of my kitchen. I’d already started dinner. Shit.
Me: That would be awesome, but I already have chicken in the Crock-Pot. I mean, if you haven’t started anything, you could come here?
Did I want to cross my fingers? Sure did. But instead, I worked on a centering breath as I watched the dots that indicated he was typing. Finally, the text came through.
Noah: Sounds good. What can I bring?
A squeal came out of me that I hadn’t been aware was something I did.
Super mature. Fighting the urge to let another one fly, I thought through my kitchen situation.
I had everything for my version of burrito bowls.
I had some cookie dough in the freezer if he wanted dessert.
Beer. Umm, there wasn’t a lot of variety.
Me: How about you bring whatever you want to drink. Seven?
Noah: Seven it is. See you in a few hours, Jules.
I could hear the way he said my name as I read that. Gracious. It really had been a while. Friends, I told myself.
The other text notifications were for the group chat. Looked like someone had named it the Coven. Nice. They had just started and were rolling in.
Ivy: Ladies, Emma, Grace, and I have been debating the May romance book club book, and we have a selection!
Maeve: Ooohhh, I’m excited to hear this, but I also forgot what April’s is and we meet next week, right? Someone help a girl out.
Allyson: It’s Pippa Grant’s newest book. You could have just asked me. I’m across the café from you.
Maeve: Now where would the fun be in that?
And what if someone else forgot? Problem solved.
Ohh, Jules, you’re invited next week even if you can’t read the book that fast. We don’t shame nonreaders.
We host it at the library, one of our houses, or the bookstore.
Sometimes at the brewery if a lot of people RSVP.
We even have outings as a club when the occasion arises.
It took me a hot minute to place the sensation in my chest, but I got there.
Happiness. A sense of belonging. My eyes welled up with tears in gratitude that my mom and Lou had seen what I couldn’t and helped me to do something about it.
I should be able to meet with them next week as long as it was after work.
Sue was understanding and all, but I needed to give her my full attention during working hours.
Hell, I knew that next year my tax season would likely not feel as chill as this one—I was soaking it up while I could.
And Lord knew I loved Pippa’s books. I hadn’t read her newest release; I’d even missed that she had one out.
Was it in Copper Valley? Either way, this was a social gathering I could get behind.
Me: I’m in. Tell me where and when for this month.
Ivy: Now can I share our May title? We’ll text you about it again in three weeks so some people can read it last minute, per usual. Not naming names or anything.
Maeve: I resemble this text.
Grace: Good Lord, ladies, let Ivy get this out.
Emma, Allyson, and Ivy liked that message.
Ivy: Thanks, Grace. We’re going with book two in Jules Jenkins’s small-town romance series, Sleepy Valley. We read the first one last fall. Jules, have you read her first book? Or does that give you enough time? Though like Maeve said, we don’t shame if you just want to show up and chat.
Maeve: Unless it’s me.
I stared at the texts in horror. They’d read my first book and were going to read my second in May? It was one thing to leave out that I wrote romance when it didn’t come up—was I going to outright lie to them? But if I didn’t, was I telling Lou? My mom?
Shit. Shitty shit shit. Part of me wanted to fire off a text that said, guess what… The other part of me knew immediately that I wasn’t ready. I closed my eyes and took a centering breath. Then another one.
Nope, I couldn’t do it. These ladies would just have to forgive me later, but this was not the day. I sent out a prayer to the universe that they’d understand and promised to work toward a time where I would own up to my books, being a giant chicken, and fired off a reply.
Me: Sounds good. I’ll get Pippa’s newest. Just let me know when we’re meeting.
Someone was texting immediately, and then Emma’s whooshed in.
Emma: We meet the second Sunday of the month most of the time. Locations rotate like Ivy said, but this month is at Allyson’s. Again, that’s only a few days away, so no worries if you can’t read the book by then.
Me: I love Pippa, and reading obsessively is my superpower. I should finish no problem.
Sliding my phone to the side, I ignored the other messages I could see popping up.
I hated how guilty I felt about holding back.
I knew they’d be understanding, but I wasn’t ready to tell my family.
And honestly, part of me didn’t want to hear how they felt about the first book of mine that they’d read or the one next month.
Maybe I could skip May’s meeting and rejoin for June? My stomach turned.
Noah would be here in a couple of hours. I glanced around my writing space and noted a stack of my books, notebooks full of ideas, and a few writing resources scattered over the cushion. Yep. All this needed to go.
Outside the window, a male cardinal watched me with what I took to be a knowing look.
“I know, Red. I’m an idiot.”
The bird gave me a nod and flew off, surely to tell his friends that I didn’t know what I was doing. I shrugged—what was a girl to do? With that, I started clearing my writing nook so I could get ready for dinner with Noah. That was sure to settle my nerves.