Broken Wings (4 page)

Daniel shook his head. “You heard that?”

Carol laughed. “Me, and all of the jolly green midgets scampering off of the yellow school bus heard it.” She studied Daniel for a moment. “You got quite a way with words, Mr. Phillips. Where did you hone those oratory skills of yours, or do all bartenders possess such a colorful vocabulary?”

“Only the ones with Harvard educations.”

Carol grinned. “Harvard, eh? Well, there seems to be more to you th
an meets the eye, Mr. Phillips.
”

“Carol!” Pamela’s voice boomed across the compound toward them.

Carol turned back to the house. “Ah, my master’s voice.” She glanced back at Daniel. “I know you may think Pamela an uptight prude, but she is one of the best people I know, and I would really be disturbed to see you upsetting her any further.”

Daniel grinned, playfully. “How disturbed?”

Carol smiled. “Lets just say I got an A+ in my torture and intimidation classes at college.”

“Where did you study? Fort Bragg?
” Daniel asked, looking amused.

“No, University of New Orleans. Any good accounting program makes such courses compulsory for their students. Where do you think IRS agents come from?”

Carol quickly turned on her heels and headed toward the waiting Girl Scouts, leaving a bewildered Danie
l Phillips to his dirty cages.

Daniel busied himself around the facility, cleaning cages and restocking them with hay and assorted scrap cloth. As he tried to concentrate on the job at hand, he could not help but let his eyes wander across the clearing to the slender blond leading a group of eager-faced girls dressed in green uniforms. Pamela Wells was enlivened as she pointed out the different animals still housed in their cages to the Girl Scouts. Her heart-shaped face almost glowed as she talked about each and every animal. She appeared relaxed as she laughed and interacted with the children; not at all like the rigid and uptight woman he had first met. She looked different, more approachable, more attractive even. He reflected on all that he had learned of her through Carol and frowned. He should have tried harder to make a good first impression with Pamela Wells and kept his eyes focused above her bust line. But he always physically evaluated every woman he met; it was just the nature of sex, he reasoned. He could not help it if he found the distant Ms. Wells attractive.

Daniel quickly silenced his runaway libido. He knew this was the type of woman he should keep out of his thoughts. She had the face and figure that could haunt a man for a very long time, but the high walls in which she had encased herself made Daniel wary of getting to know her better than he already had. For a woman who should have everything going for her, he wondered why she seemed to be running away from all that she could offer any man. It was as if she had purposely closed off the most attractive portions of herself to ensure no man would ever want to get too close.

Daniel laughed to himself as he finished putting the last bit of the scrap cloth into one of the cages.

“You’re no prize either, Daniel Phillips,” he quietly scolded.

But as he observed Pamela engaging the young girls in front of a cage of bouncing rabbits, he wondered if he hadn’t been a bit rough on her. And when Pamela turned her gray eyes to him from across the clearing, Daniel felt his frustration with the woman give way to a more intriguing feeling.

“Maybe I should start over with the elusive Pamela Wells,” he mumbled as he let a slo
w smile spread across his lips.

Everyone deserves a second chance, his mother had always told him. No matter if they are friend or foe, second chances are fate’s way of showing you just how wrong first impressions can be.

*  *  *  *

After the busload of Girl Scouts had left her facility laughing and filled with happy memories, Pamela settled her aching body on the green couch in her living room/office. Scattered about the old rolltop desk in the corner and piled up on the hardwood floor were stacks of bills and wildlife magazines. Located behind the living room was a yellow kitchen with two refrigerators; one marked for human food, the other for animal food. In the breakfast area, on top of a round breakfast table, was an assortment of square plastic containers with small, circular air holes drilled into the sides and lids. Inside the containers, mounds of felt strips could be seen moving with an occasional baby squirrel head peeping out from beneath its protective coverings. On the opposite wall from the kitchen was an old television and satellite dish receiver sitting on an oak entertainment center. Next to the entertainment center was a long wooden table with a laptop computer, printer, and large wire cage on top of it. Inside the open cage a very round gray squirrel sat contentedly eating a pecan.

“Louis,” Pamela said as she looked at the squirrel. “I’m exhausted.”

The squirrel took no notice of Pamela and continued to enjoy his nut.

A knock at the front door made Pamela sigh and reluctantly get up from her couch. She walked across the living room to the door and opened it.

Daniel was there, holding up a piece of white paper. “I need you to sign off on my time sheet before I go,” he said, nodding to the paper in his hand.

She moved back from the door and waved him into her home. “Come in. I’ll just get a pen.”

Daniel stepped inside and took in the cluttered living room. “I think your animals live better than you do.”

Pamela ignored his comment and went over to her rolltop desk. After shuffling around some papers to find a pen, she turned back to Daniel.

“Is that another of the successfully rehabbed?” he asked, pointing at Louis in his cage.

Pamela smiled affectionately as she nodded to the squirrel. “No, this is my baby boy, Louis.” She walked over to the cage and reached in to gently rub the squirrel’s head.

Louis, more interested in his nut than the affection, never stopped munching.

“He was a Katrina baby. He injured his back in a fall from a tree during the storm and could never be released. He can’t climb very well, or jump, like a normal squirrel. He was just one of the many victims of that storm. The kind the media didn’t bother to tell you about. We got a ton of injured and orphaned wildlife in after Katrina. But there was no extra funding for us, no government grants, no FEMA money, and no help to take care of all of the wildlife we were given.” She rubbed the squirrel’s head once more. Louis tilted his head slightly to the side as he ate his nut so Pamela’s fingers could scratch just the right spot. “As wildlife rehabbers we are supposed to put all animals that can’t be rehabilitated to sleep, but I just couldn’t do that to him. So he lives in here with me.”

Daniel watched the way the woman’s gray eyes shined when she handled the squirrel. She seemed so different when she spoke of her animals. Every ounce of coldness he had seen in her earlier that day instantly vanished.

“You really love animals, don’t you?” he quietly said.

Pamela snickered. “I wouldn’t go to all of this trouble if I didn’t. Animals are the victims of our society. We raise them in cages to feed on them, chase them out of their habitats, abuse them for their coats, and treat them as furniture in our homes. If you ask me they are the meek, and one day
—
”

“The meek shall inherit the earth,” Daniel said, finishing her words for her.

Pamela nodded. “Yes. They are living beings with emotions and souls, just like us. If the human race can’t be kind to animals, then how in the hell are we going to be kind to each other?”

Daniel felt his usually impenetrable resolve weakening as he looked at the quirky woman standing in her cluttered living room. He took a step closer to her. “I should apologize to you for the things I said earlier. I was out of line.”

Pamela waved a weary hand in his direction. “Forget about it.” She moved across the room toward him. “Let’s just say we had a misunderstanding and leave it at that.”

“I would like to make it up to you.”

Pamela eyed him suspiciously.

Daniel just smiled. “This house could use some work. Why don’t you let me do some repairs for you? I could patch up the broken shingles on the roof and repaint the exterior for starters.”

Pamela stood for a moment trying to gauge the depth of his sincerity.

“That is work I cannot apply to your community service,” she finally said.

“I don’t care about that.” Daniel shrugged off her concern. “I just want to help out a little. You look like you could use it. Anyone dedicated to a good cause deserves a little help, don’t you think?”

Pamela shook her head and took the white piece of paper out of his hand. “Thanks, but no thanks, Daniel. We can get along just fine without your charity.”

Pamela took the paper over to a nearby end table and hastily scribbled her name on it.

“Look, I know you think I’m some kind of thug,” Daniel began behind her. “But I would like to help out here. I saw you with those Girl Scouts today; the way you lit up when you showed them the animals you are helping here. And I have to admit I was wrong about you. You come across as a real snob but
—
”

“I do not come across as a snob!” she refuted as she spun around to face him.

“Yes, Pamela, you do. You try and hide the real you from everyone because you think
—
”

“Don’t do that,” she angrily cut in.

“Do what?” he questioned, taken aback by her hostility.

“Pretend that you know me. We just met this morning. You know nothing about me.”

He ran his hand through his dark hair, trying to control his growing sense of frustration with the woman. “I know a lot more than you think,” he mumbled
.

Pamela stubbornly folded her arms over her chest. “Okay. Let’s hear it. What do you think you know about me?”

Daniel folded his arms over his chest and stared her down. “You’re stubborn for starters. You’re tougher than you look, or at least you try to be. You prefer to do everything yourself. You think no one takes you seriously because of your beauty, so you work even harder to be seen as woman of intelligence. You’re suspicious of strangers, probably a vegetarian.” He playfully raised his eyebrows. “And you don’t like asking for help, even when you need it.”

“Congratulations, you have probably just described half of the female population in the United States.”

“Not the half I’ve known. And none of them have been like you,” he said as he inspected her again with his dark eyes.

“Your bedpost must be quite the con
versation piece,” she remarked.

He smirked at her. “I’ve been around enough women to know when they are looking for a savior, a father figure, a sinner, or a saint. Most women want help, especially from a man. You seem to resent help from men.”

She turned around, picked up the white slip of paper from the end table, and walked over to him.

“Is that your expert opinion? How comforting it must be for you to know that all of your horizontal study has afforded you the opportunity to pass judgment on me.” She watched him take the signed form from her hand.

“I wasn’t passing judgment, just making an observation,” he calmly stated as he folded the form and put it in his pocket. “And I’m not an expert on women. No man will ever accomplish that feat,” he added with a grin.

She raised her chin defiantly to him. “So how do a few random one-night stands give you insight into what a woman wants or needs from a man?”

He peered into her eyes. “I can usually figure out what a woman wants from me within the first few seconds. They all have a pretty damn predictable set of criteria, or at least I thought so until today. But you aren’t looking for anything from anybody. You only show your emotions to your animals, don’t you?”

Pamela kept her eyes on his. “In my experience, animals are safer to care about than people. My mother was one of those women who always required help from other people, especially men. She spent her entire life looking through the bottom of a vodka bottle for someone to make everything wonderful for her. The only problem was, by the time she sobered up and figured out that only she could make her life wonderful, she died.”

Daniel sighed as a ripple of regret passed through him. “How old were you when she died?”

“Thirteen.”

“What about your father?”

“My father was the one who raised me. My mother wasn’t exactly the maternal kind.”

He gazed about the living room. “Is that why I don’t see any family pictures on the walls?”

“What are you, a shrink?” She went around him and made her way to the front door. “I want to thank you for coming out and helping us. If I ever need your services again, I’ll let your probation officer know.”

He followed behind her. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I told you I would be back to fix up your place.”

She turned back and glared at him. “I don’t want you coming back.”

“Afraid I’ll steal the family silver?”

“Something like that, yes,” she replied as she opened the front door.

He came up to her. “For a woman who doesn’t like being judged, you are sure quick to judge others.”