chapter twenty-five
Wren
“Who is responsible for this coffee?” I ask, nose wrinkled as I sip from the paper cup.
“Sally at the center makes it,” Marjorie replies.
“Is she here?” I ask and look around. Everyone is congregated under the pavilion sipping coffee and eating pastries. The last of the morning dew still clings to the grass, and I now know the group has snacks first because one too many of their members have slipped and fallen on the damp grass.
“No, Sally is a bitty who works in the kitchens,” Marjorie says, waving her manicured and blue veined hand at me.
Frank clears his throat disapprovingly.
“Well, she makes terrible coffee,” I mutter. I stir the somehow grainy and weak but burnt tasting brew in my cup.
Jay tries to pour his into the grass with no one other than me noticing.
The muffins are a hit, of course. “Please tell me your recipe,” Mary-Ann says as she pats her lips with a napkin.
I open my mouth to say I printed copies of the recipe to give out, but Marjorie cuts me off. “It’s her mother’s recipe.”
“It’s not. I don’t have a mom.”
“Your grandmother’s then,” Marjorie continues with a suspicious look.
“None of those, either,” I say and narrow my eyes back at her.
“Well, who do you have?”
“A Dad… and a Hawk,” I reply.
“Is that a gay marriage thing?” Frank asks as he eats the last bite of his muffin.
Jay snorts a laugh and sprays streusel crumble onto his lap.
“No, Hawk is my dad’s bodyguard,” I answer while kicking Jay repeatedly from my seat at the picnic table.
“Are you ever going to tell us who you and your dad are?” Marjorie asks, always suspicious.
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I told you, Jay would have to kill you,” I say simply and shrug.
Jay shakes his head next to me while all the frail, geriatric bird lovers look the armed, black clad and masked Viking of a man up and down.
“Ehh,” Frank grunts and looks disapprovingly at Jay. “A man like you should serve our country, not be the shadow to some little girl.”
“I did, sir.”
A rustle in the bushes catches everyone’s attention. We quiet immediately and look. Frank gasps quietly. “The robin chicks are fledging!”
Everyone gathers together silently to watch the nest in the rhododendron. The blooms are fully open, showcasing a deep magenta color, and I can see the bottom of the nest. We’re not close enough to spook the birds, but nobody moves a muscle or makes a sound. We watch as two little robins hop up to the edge of their nest and clumsily fly away. A third one hops up and goes to fly… and falls.
It’s not a far fall, and it hits a few branches on the way down. Everyone stiffens as we watch it tumble to the ground. My heart clenches and I feel like crying. Did we just watch a bird die? But no, it’s alright. A collective sigh goes around the group as we see the little robin get up and ruffle its feathers before clumsily taking off in flight. I watch it until it’s out of sight in the sunny field.
Everyone is excitedly chatting about the robins and how much of a treat it was to see them fledging. I clean up the plates from the muffins while Jay goes around and helps gather mobility aids for those that use them. I’m one hundred percent sure these people can grab their own canes and walkers but enjoy having the help of well-muscled Jay. He gets lots of bicep squeezes from the old ladies while I clean up the crumbs and napkins.
Jay and I wander through the park, and I make Jay look in my bird book to identify birds we see. I watch them through binoculars while Jay puts a long blade of grass between the pages of the book to mark a new bird. At one point, Jay insists he sees an owl and rips the binoculars from my hands, almost decapitating me with the strap that is still around my neck. It’s not an owl, it’s a plastic shopping bag, and I make sure to be a total brat about it.
The morning is normal. We haven’t spoken about last night. We haven’t discussed what it means for us. And I’m not sure if I want to yet. I’m not sure if I’m ready to admit I’m falling in love with a man I barely know anything about. I can’t even pick him out of a police lineup… unless he was naked. Then I could probably do it given the opportunity for a close inspection.
After our walk in the park, and all the seniors get back on their bus, we sit at the picnic table and enjoy the heat of the early summer sun. Jay sketches in his journal and I work on my bird book. We’re not visited by any birds today when Jay pulls out his plastic bag of trail mix. But I hold out my hand to him expectantly. He sighs and reaches back into his pocket and produces a second bag, heavy on the chocolate and dried cranberries.
“Good boy,” I praise as he hands it over.
He looks at me over his journal, but I only spare him a glance. His eyes on me are heated, and I realize now would be a perfect time to have a discussion, but I chicken out.
“Should that bird have stayed in the nest?” I ask him instead.
“Technically, it would have been safer,” Jay says, immediately catching on to my metaphorical question. His eyes turn sad and I make a point of not looking at him again as I scribble into the corner of my bird book.
“How would it learn to fly or find food? Its siblings had left it behind. It was going to be alone,” I say, fighting the tears that want to well up.
“It fell, Wren.”
“Yeah, and it got back up. It was fine.”
“But it could have —listen, Wren, you are not a robin,” Jay says and snaps his journal closed and spins to face me on the bench. “You are an heiress. People are cruel. Look at what happened to your mom and her bodyguard. Don’t underestimate someone who feels entitled to your money or your dad’s success.”
Tears are well and truly filling my eyes now. I thought he understood my feelings about this. I thought he stood by me on my grief over feeling left behind and unwanted.
“Hawks and crows and other bigger birds will attack robins’ nests. Robins have predators, too.”
He shakes his head and leans toward me, eager for me to understand him. “Those attacks aren’t senseless. It’s for food, water, and territory. It’s part of their nature. The people that would be attacking you are doing it out of greed and anger. It’s different.”
I understand what he’s saying. But understanding and accepting are completely different concepts. I’ve always understood my dad’s motivations to keep me safe and guarded. I get it. But accepting that I’ll never have normal, never have love, never have easy safety, have been hard pills to swallow.
I sniffle. “There has to be a compromise rather than staying in the nest.”
“I think this is your compromise. You have your own space and your own life.”
“Sure. I thought so, too. But now it feels like nobody will compromise enough to be with me. Nobody will deal with the security concerns and the anonymity because they see me as worth it. I’m not… nobody thinks I’m worth it.” Tears flow down my cheeks and I move my bird journal back after little wet circles bloom outwards on the paper.
Jay is silent. Part of me is begging him to say that he sees me as worth working for and part of me is begging him to agree with me. After a few moments of silence, he places a warm hand over mine and squeezes. “One day you will be worth everything to someone.”