Read Online The Heat of the Moon: A Rachel Goddard Mystery (Rachel Goddard Mysteries) by Sandra Parshall - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sandra Parshall
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was a small raccoon with a serious bite wound on her flank. She slept out of sight in a nest box. Sunlight striped one side of the hawk’s cage, but the bird perched on a pine branch at the shaded end. He cocked his head, keen dark eyes focused on the dish of meat.
I unlatched the feeding door at the bottom of the cage and slid the dish in, next to the wide shallow pan I’d filled earlier with fresh water. When I stepped back, the hawk crab-walked along the branch, talons scraping bark, and emerged into the sun. He swiveled his head to eye the food, then us.
“Hey, handsome,” I said to the bird, “show us what a good job I did on your wing.”
To my astonishment he lifted both wings, and in slow motion unfolded them, spread them wide. I caught my breath, waiting to see if he’d fully extend the injured one. He did.
For a moment he posed in the sunshine, displaying his reddish brown underwings and chest and his dramatic black and white barred flight feathers.
“Wow,” Luke said. “Talk about having a way with animals. Does he do everything you ask him to?”
“I wish. I took the binding off a week ago and I’ve been waiting ever since to see him open that wing. You know, I don’t think he wants company. He won’t eat while we’re watching. Let’s go have our own lunch.”
Luke straightened his jacket and brushed the hair off his forehead. “Okay. Do I look neat enough to meet your family?”
I suppressed a smile. “Actually, they’re not here. They’re both at a professional conference downtown.”
His eyes went wide. Then the corners of his mouth tugged upward as he realized I’d invited him knowing we’d be alone. “Well, then,” he said, “if we’re not keeping anybody waiting, how about taking me on a walk in your woods? I haven’t spent any time outdoors in so long, I’ve got a raging case of cabin fever.”
“You should ease up on those sixteen-hour work days.”
“All I need is a good reason.”
When we turned I felt his hand on my back, a light touch, the briefest contact. Behind us, I heard the silky whisper of feathers and the thump of the hawk’s feet on the cage floor.
The path along the stream bank was dense and cushiony with generations of fallen leaves, and so narrow that our bodies couldn’t stay separated as we walked. Our arms brushed, our hands touched. Above us a fuzz of new green colored the massive oaks and maples.
“I put myself through a drill getting ready to meet your mother,” Luke said. “I had a lot of small talk rehearsed.”
I stopped and faced him. “Really? Why’d you think you had to do that?”
He shrugged. “I’m not great at socializing to begin with, and a psychologist—I’m sure your mother’s a very nice woman, but I’d probably feel like everything I did was being analyzed.”
Oh, I thought, you have no idea.
He was so close I could feel his heat. I took a step back and said lightly, “Then it’s just as well she’s not here. How’d you know she’s a psychologist?”
“I asked around. Grilled a couple of the other vets.”
This made me laugh, but at the same time it stirred a faint apprehension. “They must wonder why you’re so interested in my family.”
“Well, they didn’t tell me much.” He grinned. “Am I being too pushy?”
“I can’t decide whether you’re pushy or cute.”
“Whatever I am, it got me this far.”
“Just watch your step,” I said.
“I’ll consider myself warned.”
A half-smile on his lips, he followed a downy woodpecker’s jerky ascent of a maple on the far side of the stream. A cardinal’s rich throaty song rose above the happy racket of other birds. “I really like this,” he said. “Have you lived here all your life?”
“Not quite. We moved here when I was five, from Minneapolis.” Was that true? I wondered suddenly. It was what I’d always believed, but my memory couldn’t provide any proof.
“My family’s farm has a creek and a patch of woods like this,”
I unlatched the feeding door at the bottom of the cage and slid the dish in, next to the wide shallow pan I’d filled earlier with fresh water. When I stepped back, the hawk crab-walked along the branch, talons scraping bark, and emerged into the sun. He swiveled his head to eye the food, then us.
“Hey, handsome,” I said to the bird, “show us what a good job I did on your wing.”
To my astonishment he lifted both wings, and in slow motion unfolded them, spread them wide. I caught my breath, waiting to see if he’d fully extend the injured one. He did.
For a moment he posed in the sunshine, displaying his reddish brown underwings and chest and his dramatic black and white barred flight feathers.
“Wow,” Luke said. “Talk about having a way with animals. Does he do everything you ask him to?”
“I wish. I took the binding off a week ago and I’ve been waiting ever since to see him open that wing. You know, I don’t think he wants company. He won’t eat while we’re watching. Let’s go have our own lunch.”
Luke straightened his jacket and brushed the hair off his forehead. “Okay. Do I look neat enough to meet your family?”
I suppressed a smile. “Actually, they’re not here. They’re both at a professional conference downtown.”
His eyes went wide. Then the corners of his mouth tugged upward as he realized I’d invited him knowing we’d be alone. “Well, then,” he said, “if we’re not keeping anybody waiting, how about taking me on a walk in your woods? I haven’t spent any time outdoors in so long, I’ve got a raging case of cabin fever.”
“You should ease up on those sixteen-hour work days.”
“All I need is a good reason.”
When we turned I felt his hand on my back, a light touch, the briefest contact. Behind us, I heard the silky whisper of feathers and the thump of the hawk’s feet on the cage floor.
The path along the stream bank was dense and cushiony with generations of fallen leaves, and so narrow that our bodies couldn’t stay separated as we walked. Our arms brushed, our hands touched. Above us a fuzz of new green colored the massive oaks and maples.
“I put myself through a drill getting ready to meet your mother,” Luke said. “I had a lot of small talk rehearsed.”
I stopped and faced him. “Really? Why’d you think you had to do that?”
He shrugged. “I’m not great at socializing to begin with, and a psychologist—I’m sure your mother’s a very nice woman, but I’d probably feel like everything I did was being analyzed.”
Oh, I thought, you have no idea.
He was so close I could feel his heat. I took a step back and said lightly, “Then it’s just as well she’s not here. How’d you know she’s a psychologist?”
“I asked around. Grilled a couple of the other vets.”
This made me laugh, but at the same time it stirred a faint apprehension. “They must wonder why you’re so interested in my family.”
“Well, they didn’t tell me much.” He grinned. “Am I being too pushy?”
“I can’t decide whether you’re pushy or cute.”
“Whatever I am, it got me this far.”
“Just watch your step,” I said.
“I’ll consider myself warned.”
A half-smile on his lips, he followed a downy woodpecker’s jerky ascent of a maple on the far side of the stream. A cardinal’s rich throaty song rose above the happy racket of other birds. “I really like this,” he said. “Have you lived here all your life?”
“Not quite. We moved here when I was five, from Minneapolis.” Was that true? I wondered suddenly. It was what I’d always believed, but my memory couldn’t provide any proof.
“My family’s farm has a creek and a patch of woods like this,”
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