4. Chapter FourRORY
Chapter Four
RORY
Whoever invented pet carriers deserved to be roasted.
The wheels clattered against the uneven pavement, each bump a fresh insult to my already battered body. My feathers were in a perpetual state of ruffle, both literally and figuratively, as Mina rolled me into the heart of the bustling farmers’ market. A wall of noise hit me. People yakking, mutts yapping, and brats wailing. If I wasn’t cooped up in this rolling prison, I’d make a break for the nearest exit.
Through the mesh of the carrier, I watched her. Mina paused at a stall laden with gourds, exchanging a sunny greeting with the vendor. His face lit up as if someone had switched on Christmas early. Mina had this way about her, like instant sunshine. It set my beak on edge. How the hell could anyone be so damn cheerful all the time? Still, I couldn’t help but notice the way she smiled when she spoke to others.
“Oh, there you are,” a voice trilled from behind us. “How are you, dear?”
Mina paid for a small pumpkin and loaded it into her tote. She turned toward the source of the voice, but her smile faltered slightly. “Hi, Gladys. I’m well, thank you.”
Even as a turkey, my stomach turned at the sound of Gladys. I knew her type. The kind of woman who wore pearls to a farmers’ market, and her hair was a helmet of blonde curls. Through the mesh, I saw Mina’s posture stiffen slightly.
“Are you?” Gladys’s voice dripped with snobbery. “So, I see you’re back to being all alone now? It’s just that the holidays can be so hard for single people. I worry about you. A woman your age, still without a partner... It must be so difficult.”
Mina’s smile froze. The silence stretched a beat too long. Even trapped in this bird cage, I could feel the tension building up like crazy. Unable to speak, move, or act, I could only watch. It’s a special torture. And I knew all about anguish. This curse was nothing if not a masterclass in suffering.
“I appreciate your concern,” Mina finally said. “But I’m perfectly alright.”
Gladys gave a smug look that could curdle milk. “Of course you are, dear. You’re such a strong, independent woman.” She let the words hang in the air. “Oh, is that a new pet?” Her eyes flicked to the carrier, and my giblets tightened with dread.
“This is Thomas. I’m keeping him safe until his wing mends. You know how I am with rescue animals.”
“Ah yes,” Gladys said, peering closer. I could almost feel her putrid breath through the mesh. “A turkey. How festive. Does he come with stuffing?”
If I could roll my eyes, they’d be doing Olympic-level gymnastics right now. Gladys embodied everything I disliked about nosy, judgmental people. Each word out of her mouth dripped with thinly veiled malice. If she comes any closer, I’ll peck her head.
“He’s only here to keep me company,” Mina said. “I would never, ever eat a pet.”
“No, I suppose not. Though I can’t imagine a turkey makes for very affectionate company. Isn’t Thanksgiving just around the corner?” Gladys raised an eyebrow, the implication as clear as a pane of glass.
Mina fidgeted, then gently patted the top of the carrier. That soft gesture made my stomach churn with confusion. Why would she care if I was uncomfortable?
“Thomas is safe with me.”
“Well, good luck with that,” Gladys said. “Sometimes it’s easier to care of animals than people, isn’t it?”
I wanted to roar . Mina didn’t have to take this—she could give as good as she got. But all I could do was sit there, wings twitching, as Gladys hurled insult after insult. Each word stung more than the last, and my frustration coiled tighter with every blow.
Mina looked down at me. “I don’t know about that, but Thomas makes things pretty easy.”
“Well, if you change your mind,” Gladys said, “Roger and I would be happy to have you. We wouldn’t want you spending Thanksgiving all by yourself.”
“That’s very kind. I’ll let you know.”
“It’s wonderful that you have something to keep you busy, but I must be off.” Gladys turned to leave, and for a moment, I thought we were in the clear. But then she pivoted back, carefully moving around a mason jar display of homemade cranberry sauce.
A sly grin tugged a corner of her lips upward. “Oh, dear. One more thing. Have you considered talking to someone? A professional, I mean. Sometimes I think you push people away on purpose. We just want to help, you know.”
Something in Mina’s face crumpled.
Hell, no. I draw the fucking line in the sand here .
I pecked at the carrier’s latch. It gave way, and I tumbled out, landing in an ungainly heap of feathers. My talons scraped against the concrete as I scuttled toward the cranberry sauce display. With a well-aimed peck, I sent the pyramid of mason jars crashing to the ground. They burst open on impact, splattering their contents across Gladys’s pristine shoes.
Gladys shrieked. Her face was a mask of horrified disbelief. “You stupid bird!”
I let out a triumphant gobble.
“ Thomas! ” Mina said, trying her best to scoop me up.
But I spotted the cranberry vendor placing a water bucket on his table and, before Mina could stop me, I dashed towards it. With a mighty jump, I knocked the bucket over, sending a tidal wave of water and cranberry bits cascading over Gladys.
The woman stood in stunned silence as her hair and makeup ran down her face.
For a split second, I almost felt bad. Almost.
Mina rushed toward me as she scooped me up as best as she could. Her hands were firm but not rough, and I could feel the tension in her fingers. “I’m so sorry. He must have been spooked.”
“Spooked?” Gladys sputtered. She wiped a hand across her face and only smeared her makeup further. “You need to control that beast. It’s dangerous.”
Mina held me close to her chest. I could feel her heart pounding. “He’s just a turkey. He didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean? Oh, please!” Gladys cut her off, her voice sharp enough to cut. She glared at me, and I met her gaze with my best not sorry turkey stare.
“He’s just... spirited,” Mina said. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“You’d better,” Gladys said as she wrung out the hem of her ruined dress. “This isn’t over.” With that, Gladys stormed off, leaving a trail of dripping cranberry carnage behind her. The crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle dispersed, but I saw some of them smirking at Gladys’s expense.
Mina let out a long sigh and loosened her grip on me. I expected her to be angry, but she seemed relieved.
“Thomas,” she said softly. “Why do I feel you understood every word?”
I cocked my head to the side and gave a low gobble, as nonchalant as a bird could manage.
She smiled then, and it was the kind of smile that reached her eyes. Mina guided me back into the carrier and latched it shut. I nestled into the straw, feeling damned proud of myself. The unhinged banshee deserved it.
“Come on, troublemaker. Let’s get you home.”
Mina rolled me back to the parking lot. She loaded her tote in the back and hefted the carrier into the back seat. A few moments later, she slumped into the driver’s seat. She didn’t start the truck right away. Instead, she just sat there, staring at the steering wheel.
“Am I really that hard to love?”
From my perch in the carrier, I could see her reflection in the rearview mirror. This was the real Mina, the one she kept hidden behind a constant facade of cheerfulness.
“I just don’t get it,” Mina said. “Every time I think things are going well, something like this happens. Maybe Gladys is right. Maybe it’s easier to care for animals because I can’t seem to hold on to anyone.”
I wanted to set her straight. But all I could do was let out a gobble.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair, now loose from its ponytail. “I mean, it’s not like I’m sending you away. You’re a turkey, and I care about you more than I care about most people. What does that say about me?”
It said plenty. That Mina had a heart big enough to take in a lost cause like me, even while she was drowning in her own troubles. That she was kinder and more generous than she realized. Someone who would feed stray animals, even if she had nothing left for herself.
Mina wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. “This day is just getting worse. First, I lost my grandparents’ locket and then the whole thing with Gladys. Maybe I do need to talk to someone.” She fished her keys out of her purse and started the truck. The engine rumbled to life, and she backed out of the parking space with more care than usual.
I knew where she’d misplaced the locket, but revealing its location would have raised suspicion.
The drive back to Mina’s farm was brisk, but not unpleasant. The air had taken on that crisp quality in early November. I watched the small-town blur through streaked glass. Everything looked quaint. From the old-fashioned bakery with its hand-painted sign, the tiny post office with a statue of a postman on a horse out front.
Her farm was picturesque too, with flower boxes on the windowsills and a white picket fence that had seen better days. She killed the engine and sat for a moment longer before getting out.
Mina opened the back door and retrieved her tote, then unlatched my carrier. “You’re probably freezing,” she said. “I can knit you a little sweater and scarf.”
I stepped out of the carrier and stretched my wings. The warmth of the farm was a welcome change from the chill outside, and I eyed the wood-burning stove with something akin to longing. It would be ridiculous to knit a sweater, but it was kind of Mina to even think about it.
She hung up her coat and inspected her haul from the market. Cranberries, a small pumpkin, various greens, a loaf of artisan bread. She cooked enormous meals despite living alone. It was one of the many things I found curious about her.
“I really am grateful, you know,” she said, not looking at me but at a bunch of kale she was un-bagging. “For your company.”
I fluffed my feathers and made my way toward the small mat near the stove. Her words held an honesty that disarmed me. It was easier when I thought she was just using me as a temporary distraction. This... this sounded like genuine affection.
“People aren’t as straightforward as animals. I never know what they’re thinking, or what they want.” She paused, then laughed softly. “Not that I know what you’re thinking about either. But it’s different. Simpler.”
No arguing there. Life was simple as a turkey. Eat, sleep, avoid being eaten.
Mina rinsed the kale in the sink and then glanced over at me. “You were very brave today. And silly,” she added with a wry grin, “but brave.”
I grumbled to myself. Bravery had nothing to do with it. That shrieking harpy needed to be put in her place, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Mina took the rinsed greens and started chopping them on a wooden cutting board. “You know,” she said, “Thanksgiving is coming up. It’s always been one of my favorite holidays.”
Of course it was. My gaze fixed on the pumpkin she’d set on the counter. With my current situation, the upcoming holiday felt more ominous.
“I used to have big dinners,” she said, pausing her chopping. “Friends, family, even the neighbors. We’d all cram into the dining room and make a gigantic mess.” Her voice trailed off, lost in the steam of memories.
Used to. That was telling. I hadn’t known Mina for long, but in that short time I’d seen her interact with half the town. She was sociable, so I couldn’t imagine her alone for any length of time.
She scraped the chopped greens into a bowl and turned her attention to the pumpkin, retrieving a small saw from a drawer. “This year it’ll just be me. You’re welcome to join, of course.”
The hell woman. Are you going to butcher and eat me?
Mina worked the saw with delicate precision, cutting around the stem of the pumpkin. “I promise not to make you feel too uncomfortable,” she said with a sly smile. “We’ll have lots of vegetables and maybe some tofu.”
I let out a low gobble, unsure if it was in relief or in terror of the tofu.
She lifted the pumpkin top off and peeked inside. Mina scooped out pumpkin guts with an old metal ladle, tossing the stringy mess into a compost bucket beside the sink. “I still wonder what you were doing up on the mountain all alone.”
Because I’d been hiding from civilization, and from every damned complication that came with being human. In the wilderness, I could be free, living life on my own terms. Being a turkey? Yeah, I was still figuring that shit out.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” she said. “Everyone has their reasons for wanting to be alone.”
Mina finished hollowing the pumpkin and wiped her hands on a dish towel. She looked tired, and for a moment, older than her years. It was the first time I’d seen her without that constant spark of optimism.
A phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at the screen and hesitated. In that split second, I saw a flurry of emotions cross her face. None of them good.
“Todd,” she said aloud, more to herself than to me. She bit her lower lip, deliberating, then picked up the phone and swiped to answer. “Hello?” Mina turned her back to me and walked toward the living room. “Yeah, I’ve been fine,” she said into the phone. “Busy with the farm and... other things.”
The warmth from the stove had finally seeped into my bones, but an uneasy tension now replaced it. I strained to hear Mina’s side of the conversation, not out of nosiness—okay, maybe a little—but because I genuinely wondered what could make her so conflicted.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she said after a long pause. “Things are still... I’m still trying to figure things out.” Another silence followed, this one heavy and leaden. “You can’t be serious,” she said. “After everything, you think... No. I’m not interested .”
I could almost hear Todd’s pleading on the phone, his insistence that everything would be fine, that they could go back to how it was.
“Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll think about it.” She ended the call and stared at the darkened screen. When she came back into the kitchen, her face was a mask of neutrality. She picked up the dish towel and wrung it in her hands. “That was my ex. He’s in town for a few days.”
If I could have raised an eyebrow, I would have.
“He wants to see me. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” She looked at me as if seeking advice. “What do you think?”
In my head I was thinking, “This Todd’s probably a total asshole.” Mina was setting herself up for a round of pain. So I clucked and fluffed my wings.
“You’re right. It’s my decision.” She set the dishtowel down and took a deep breath, as if trying to inhale her optimism. “Guess I’m going to have to carve a turkey,” she suddenly announced.
What. The. Fu—
“Out of the pumpkin,” Mina said with a grin.
I knew it right then. Miss Sunshine was going to be the death of me.