1. Kendra
1
KENDRA
O ne of the things Kendra had never expected to appreciate about living in her van were the sunrises she was forced to enjoy.
The converted mobile vet van, fondly named Rita, had an over-the-cab bed with windows on three sides, and the blinds never kept all the light out. Two of them didn’t come down anymore, so Kendra just left them all open, and every morning, she woke with a face full of color and sunlight.
It was autumn, and they were parked just outside of Nickel City at an overlook with a view of mountains and picturesque, fall-colored foliage. It was postcard perfect, and the air had a hint of frost to it at this elevation, though there wouldn’t be snow for a few more weeks, Kendra guessed.
The rest area wasn’t technically a campground, and Kendra certainly hadn’t paid for a space, but state troopers tended to be lax about self-sufficient units that weren’t setting up a long-term camp if they only stayed one night.
The vet medical logo, with a silhouette of a horse head, and SAGE VETERINARY SERVICES script on the side of the van also got her a little slack.
And a vet with a baby?
When Amy was at her cutest and most charismatic, the two were unstoppable, but when she was at her most wretched and shrill, no one could help but feel sorry for Kendra.
“We’re a good team, darling,” Kendra murmured into Amy’s hair. “You and me against the world.”
Amy was still sleeping beside her, snuggly wrapped in footed pajamas. Kendra had put a bumper around Amy’s half of the double bed when she was a baby, but it didn’t stop her anymore and Kendra usually woke up with the little girl cuddled in her arms.
Kendra would have liked to linger longer in bed, enjoying Amy’s rare quiet and stillness, but she had to get up and get moving to meet her schedule.
“Morning, little owl!” Kendra gave her a tickle.
Amy gave a whimper of displeasure and curled into a tighter ball. Kendra didn’t blame her. “A few more minutes,” she said, kissing the top of Amy’s blonde head. “I’m going to make coffee.”
She slid down from the bunk and secured the netting behind her, even though Amy showed no signs of wanting to follow.
The net was her own design, a military-weight mesh that was latched at the ends with snap-in buckles and secured all along the perimeter with heavy-duty bolts. Kendra called it her playpen in the sky, because it essentially converted the bed into a child-safe cubby. Amy had tested its strength in both toddler and owl form, and it had thwarted plenty of tantrums.
Kendra knew the vet van was not going to fit the two of them as Amy grew and became more mobile, though. Kendra had already had to make adjustments to keep sharp tools and toxic things safely out of reach, and those arrangements wouldn’t continue to work when Amy’s fingers were stronger and her reach was longer.
She uncovered the stove and lit the single burner gas range for a cup of instant coffee. While it heated, she dressed, and splashed water on her face. She would do a load of laundry and use a public shower after she was done with her jobs for the day; there was no point in showering before she got covered in stable muck and horse slobber. She had to squeeze into the corner to open the bathroom door, and Amy was babbling happily from bed as she came out.
The kettle whistled and Kendra paused to fill her mug and turn off the gas. It wasn’t quite cold enough to turn on the propane heater.
“Ready to go to Tiny Paws, feather-butt?” Kendra left her coffee to cool and went to scoop Amy up and change her diaper on the stainless steel surgical table. Though most of her work was with livestock, she often saw smaller pets while she was in the field, and her van was set up to do basic x-rays and minor surgeries that didn’t require assistance. She sterilized the surface with a wipe after she put Amy in her built-in high chair with a bowl of cereal and a sippy cup of milk.
“FEDDER BUH!” Amy echoed. She was still mostly speaking in babble and nonsense, but she liked to echo the sounds she heard, even when she didn’t really understand them.
“Cereal,” Kendra pointed out. “Milk!”
“SEE! MOO!”
“Moo!” Kendra wryly thought that between her animal-centric business and being a single mom, it was a miracle she could hold any adult conversations at all.
I’m an adult, her snowy owl protested. You have me!
You are not an adult, Kendra scoffed. You are a feather-headed football. But she thought it fondly, and knew her owl’s huff of offense in reply was all for show.
She made herself a bowl of cereal and ate it sitting next to Amy in one of the two backwards-facing chairs. One of them was fitted with a high chair table and straps to keep a wiggly toddler in.
After two squares of frosted wheat and half her cup of milk, Amy was ready to be done, trying to squirm from the high chair belt and escape.
Kendra felt the instinctive tingle of warning a moment before Amy popped into owl shape, scattering downy feathers and falling inside of her clothing. As always, she was tangled in her onesie and her diaper, her wings caught in her clothing and she squawked in outrage.
Kendra’s owl chuckled in amusement. Clumsy chick, she said fondly.
Kendra put down her cereal bowl and scooped Amy out of the chair. “We needed to get dressed for day care anyway,” she said with a tolerant chuckle. There was no point in scolding a baby. “Five minutes!” she cautioned Amy, and then she extracted her from her clothing and put her down on the scarred linoleum floor.
Amy, along with all of her human baby milestones like teething and speaking, was on the brink of fledging. She was still mostly fluff and beak, but her flight feathers were starting to come in, sleek and banded in black and white. One of her favorite things to do was beating her wings to strengthen the muscles, like any young owl. She did it wildly, scooting along on the floor. Several pieces of down blew off behind her.
While Amy entertained herself with her own wings for a while, Kendra finished her last soggy cereal squares and drank the remaining milk. Then she packed Amy a lunch and closed up the cooled stove, stashing the kettle back in the cabinet.
Amy knew what was coming and bolted for the back of the van, but Kendra caught her easily and bounced her in her arms to distract her. “Fingers and feet!” she chided. “Time to be a little girl!”
Amy clacked her beak and then reluctantly shimmered into a tiny girl. “Abble babby wibble,” she pouted.
“You get to go to Tiny Paws!” Kendra sang. “Tiny Paws!
Amy tried to echo her, but only got as close as “Eye oos.” She didn’t struggle too much when Kendra dressed her in warm clothing and then carried her around the outside of the van to clip her into the rear-facing car seat on the passenger side.
Kendra paused to turn off the propane and switch the fridge to battery power, then climbed into the driver’s seat.
The cab was chilly, but it warmed up quickly on the drive into Nickel City and Kendra put on a disc of Billy Holiday to sing to and drown out the increasingly terrible rattle that promised a big upcoming repair bill. Amy kept up a lively conversation, kicking her feet and playing with the toys clipped to her seat.
Kendra drank in the views. The sun was high now, and starting to melt off the frost that still sparkled on the golden leaves that still clung to the trees and carpeted the sides of the road. She could imagine the rustling sound and the smell, and she was almost disappointed when the forest gave way to Nickel City proper.
The little town still had an abnormal number of trees running through it, and many of the streets wandered around greenbelts and groves rather than staying to a square grid. Kendra was not sure she had ever seen a prettier city, even if parking downtown was nearly impossible in her long vehicle. Her usual grocery lot was full and she finally settled for double parking a block away from the day care and rushing down the street with Amy in her arms, hoping for mercy if they were ticketing already.