thought it a little odd. Why would anyone spend so much time just to train and take care of a big bird? But my first trip hunting with him convinced me otherwise. It wasn't the same as hunting with a gun. It was working in concert with something wild and precious. Most of the time, it didn't seem like hunting at all.
“So when you bringing Armistead over?” he said. “I need to get a look at that red-tail and make sure you aren't abusing her.”
“Soon.”
If only I'd realized then how soon it would be.
6
Sunday morning I tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep in. Too anxious to stay in bed. I had gone to Marcia's house for dinner the night before. She lived in a nicer part of town, a neighborhood of grand colonials nearer the university. We didn't talk much about my abbreviated trip to Leonardston. We talked instead about a new book she was writing that dealt with the role of women in the South during the Reconstruction. We talked about the play she had seen Friday night, even a little about how the university's football team was faring. She fed me salmon, baked potatoes, and yellow squash, and we stayed up late on the couch in front of a black-and-white rerun of It Happened One Night. We kissed a few times during the movie, but then we stopped. This incident with the body and Nicole wasn't exactly doing wonders for my love life.
Walter and Patricia made their usual noises when they left for church around eight. I laced up my running shoes and put in four miles, along Rose Hill Drive to Preston, across to Rugby Road and down through the university, then back up Emmet Street to Barracks, returning on Rugby Avenue.
Back home, I padded barefoot into the kitchen and downed half a quart of orange juice. Then I got out the frying pan, three fresh brown eggs, a mushroom, and a block of sharp Cheddar cheese. I made myself an omelet, poured myself a cup of coffee, and sat alone at the kitchen table while I leafed through the Sunday paper, searching for any more mention of the murder of Dewayne Turner. There was none. Still no message from Nicole either.
I spent most of the afternoon working with Armistead again, doing some jump training in her outdoor enclosure where I had her weathering. I should have gone into the office afterward to catch up on paperwork, but couldn't bring myself to climb in the truck. Monday promised overdue reports and a series of telephone calls. I rented office space in an old converted warehouse near the downtown mall, one of those places where you share a receptionist, a copier, fax, and coffee machine with other economically underprivileged businesses. I didn't employ a secretary, just my five-year-old word processing software, which could crank out eighty words a minute when I got up to speed.
Still no word from Nicole. Early that evening I went out back to check on Armistead. The waning light shone pale on the backs of the houses along Rugby Avenue as I entered the wooden structure beside the fence. The red-tail stirred a little.
“Hello, queen,” I said. She did look rather regal on her perch. “Had a good workout today, didn't we?”
She came fully awake and tilted her hooded head toward the sound of my voice.
“If 1 don't hear from that daughter of mine you like soon, we might have to take a little trip. Over to Jake's—you'll probably remember.”
She shifted her feet.
“It's business, girl. Remember that rabbit the other day? … Well … It's turned into an even bigger problem than I thought.”
Afterward, I was lying in bed with a bead on Tom Clancy's latest opus, but I couldn't concentrate. Was I going to have to call Nicole or go back over there to find her again? I was just about to pick up the phone on the lamp stand when it rang. Nicole breathed heavily on the other end.
“Dad?”
I breathed a sigh of relief and swung my legs off the bed. “Yes?”
“I'm glad I caught you in.”
“Me too, honey.”
“Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't call back sooner, but things have
“So when you bringing Armistead over?” he said. “I need to get a look at that red-tail and make sure you aren't abusing her.”
“Soon.”
If only I'd realized then how soon it would be.
6
Sunday morning I tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep in. Too anxious to stay in bed. I had gone to Marcia's house for dinner the night before. She lived in a nicer part of town, a neighborhood of grand colonials nearer the university. We didn't talk much about my abbreviated trip to Leonardston. We talked instead about a new book she was writing that dealt with the role of women in the South during the Reconstruction. We talked about the play she had seen Friday night, even a little about how the university's football team was faring. She fed me salmon, baked potatoes, and yellow squash, and we stayed up late on the couch in front of a black-and-white rerun of It Happened One Night. We kissed a few times during the movie, but then we stopped. This incident with the body and Nicole wasn't exactly doing wonders for my love life.
Walter and Patricia made their usual noises when they left for church around eight. I laced up my running shoes and put in four miles, along Rose Hill Drive to Preston, across to Rugby Road and down through the university, then back up Emmet Street to Barracks, returning on Rugby Avenue.
Back home, I padded barefoot into the kitchen and downed half a quart of orange juice. Then I got out the frying pan, three fresh brown eggs, a mushroom, and a block of sharp Cheddar cheese. I made myself an omelet, poured myself a cup of coffee, and sat alone at the kitchen table while I leafed through the Sunday paper, searching for any more mention of the murder of Dewayne Turner. There was none. Still no message from Nicole either.
I spent most of the afternoon working with Armistead again, doing some jump training in her outdoor enclosure where I had her weathering. I should have gone into the office afterward to catch up on paperwork, but couldn't bring myself to climb in the truck. Monday promised overdue reports and a series of telephone calls. I rented office space in an old converted warehouse near the downtown mall, one of those places where you share a receptionist, a copier, fax, and coffee machine with other economically underprivileged businesses. I didn't employ a secretary, just my five-year-old word processing software, which could crank out eighty words a minute when I got up to speed.
Still no word from Nicole. Early that evening I went out back to check on Armistead. The waning light shone pale on the backs of the houses along Rugby Avenue as I entered the wooden structure beside the fence. The red-tail stirred a little.
“Hello, queen,” I said. She did look rather regal on her perch. “Had a good workout today, didn't we?”
She came fully awake and tilted her hooded head toward the sound of my voice.
“If 1 don't hear from that daughter of mine you like soon, we might have to take a little trip. Over to Jake's—you'll probably remember.”
She shifted her feet.
“It's business, girl. Remember that rabbit the other day? … Well … It's turned into an even bigger problem than I thought.”
Afterward, I was lying in bed with a bead on Tom Clancy's latest opus, but I couldn't concentrate. Was I going to have to call Nicole or go back over there to find her again? I was just about to pick up the phone on the lamp stand when it rang. Nicole breathed heavily on the other end.
“Dad?”
I breathed a sigh of relief and swung my legs off the bed. “Yes?”
“I'm glad I caught you in.”
“Me too, honey.”
“Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't call back sooner, but things have
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