Broken Wings (7 page)

“Graduate school?” she questioned.

“I was at Harvard, completing my MBA. When my old man found out I quit grad school and enlisted, he blew a fuse.” He laughed, slightly.

“I’m sure your father was probably terrified for you. You were going off to a strange country to fight a war.”

“Not quite. He was grooming me to take over his business. He wanted me to finish my MBA and go to work with him.”

“The scars on your chest. You got those in Iraq, didn’t you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm and steady.

Daniel sat back and ran his hands over his face. He shook his head. “We were on foot in what we thought was a pretty secure section of Baghdad. We came around a corner and walked right into an ambush. I took the first one in the leg and then the next three…” He paused. “Well, you saw the scars.”

She sat back on the couch next to him, admiring his strong profile. “When did you get out?”

“Six years ago after I was shot.” He shrugged. “I traveled around the country a bit and then I went to bartending school for the fun of it. I don’t sleep well and I figured if I was going to be up all night I might as well get paid for it.”

Pamela shook her head. “What you are describing, Daniel, is more than just
—
”

“It’s called PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder,” he interrupted. “That’s what the army shrinks said it was.”

“So you have seen someone?”

Daniel snickered. “I’ve seen several someones. They all say the same thing. They try to give me pills, try to hypnotize me, desensitize me, detoxify me, and demoralize me.” He got up from the couch and walked over to the window next to Louis’s cage.

The squirrel watched as Daniel came up to him. The creature’s little eyes curiously took in the stranger without showing the least bit of fear. Louis then climbed out of his cage and slowly made his way over to the tall man.

Daniel warily watched as the squirrel came closer to him.

Pamela rose from the couch and went over to the cage. “It’s all right,” she assured him. “He doesn’t bite. In fact he is quite a sweet little boy.”

She took his hand and guided it toward Louis. At first, Louis seemed a little nervous about the big hand approaching, but then he let Daniel touch his head. After a few seconds, Daniel was able to gently stroke the top of the squirrel’s head.

“Now reach around and stroke under his chin,” Pamela instructed.

Daniel did as he was told and was happily surprised when the little creature lifted his front paw for Daniel to rub his fuzzy white underbelly.

“Look at that. He likes it.” Daniel laughed.

“Actually, it is something all squirrels do when you rub under their chins. I call it the squirrel reflex.”

Then Louis decided that he had had enough attention for the time being and moved away from Daniel’s hand and back into his cage.

“I’ve never petted a squirrel before,” Daniel said, his face bright with enthusiasm.

“Not many people have,” Pamela admitted. “Do you want to feel something truly amazing?”

Daniel explored her cool gray eyes. He felt a pang of desire blaze through him as he took in every detail of her face. His excitement dwindled to disappointment when Pamela turned away from him and walked over to the other side of the living room.

She went to the containers housing her myriad of wildlife babies and opened one. She came back to Daniel holding a small gray and brown lump of fur in her hands.

“Hold out your hands,” she told him.

Daniel watched anxiously as Pamela placed a six-week-old squirrel in his hands.

The creature’s eyes and ears were open and the body was covered with a silky brown and gray fur. He could feel the little life squirming in his hands, as tiny teeth nipped at the calluses on his palms.

Daniel looked up at Pamela. “It’s so small, I feel like I might crush it.”

“Would you like to feed her?”

Daniel raised his dark eyebrows at Pamela. “Are you sure?”

She gave him an encouraging smile. “I think it might be just what you need right now.”

*  *  *  *

Half an hour later, Pamela looked on as Daniel sat on the floor, carefully feeding formula to his fifth baby squirrel. The man seemed to revel in the way the eager little mouths sucked at the small syringe. He carefully rubbed each and every pink tummy after feeding to aid with digestion, just as Pamela had instructed. He was enthralled with the tiny creatures, studying their faces, and caressing their little feet. The joy he seemed to find made Pamela feel as if the disturbing events of the day had almost never happened. Almost.

“No wonder you like doing this.” Daniel glanced up from the squirrel in his hands. “They are so helpless and have such trust in you. They let you feed them and rub them without the slightest bit of reservation.”

Pamela walked over to his place on the floor. “Wait until they get older and can squirm and bite. Then feeding them with a syringe becomes a real challenge.”

“Why do you use a syringe? I’ve always seen those bottles sold in stores with the kitten and puppy formulas. I thought you would be using them to feed your babies.”

“Nursing bottles can cause aspiration
—
formula in the lungs
—
in a lot of infant wildlife. Rehabbers always use syringes to make sure the animal doesn’t aspirate.”

“When do they get off the formula?”

“At eight to ten weeks I start weaning them. I’ll get them into some small cages, out of these plastic containers, and start to offer solid food. Usually I give them a selection of apples, berries, beans, and corn, along with a little sweet potato, as well as wheat bread or crackers. Once they are completely off formula, I will transfer them to the bigger cages outside that you were cleaning the other day. And when they are able to crack a nut with their teeth, they are ready to be released.”

He gazed down at the little ball of fur in his hands. “That must be hard. You must get so attached.”

“To some, yes, I become very attached. Almost from the first moment you begin feeding them, you recognize traits of each baby’s individual personality, no matter how alike they may appear. Some are stubborn, shy, feisty, or some are like little bulldozers; they will plow through anything that gets in their way. Most people think they are just animals and wonder how they can have different personalities. But getting to know them is just like getting to know another person. At first you see only the outside, but with time you learn to memorize every idiosyncrasy, every inflection, every movement until one day…” She shrugged. “They become a part of you. And for the rest of your life, their memory will live on in your thoughts and in your dreams.”

“Do they ever not want to leave?” Daniel asked. “I mean they have it pretty good here and it is a big old scary world out there.”

“Some hang around for a long time, like Rodney. Usually the males stay longer than the females.” She gave him a teasing grin. “But many do come back to visit me. The mothers bring their babies to me and show me their families. That makes what I do worthwhile. I guess it is their way of saying thank you. They make me a part of the tribe, so to speak. They remember me, and you cannot ask for more than that from anyone.”

Daniel carefully placed the small baby back in its plastic container. He watched as the tiny creature crawled over to join the rest of the litter, which was hidden underneath a mound of cloth strips. He put the lid back on the square plastic box and placed the container with the others against the wall on his left. He looked past Pamela to the window located across the room, and felt a pang of disappointment run through him as he saw the fading light peeking through the light brown curtains.

“It’s getting late,” he stated as he stood up from the floor. “I should get back to your roof while there is still some daylight left.”

Pamela shook her head. “No, you’re not going back up there today.”

“I’m fine now.” He leaned his head slightly closer to her and gave her a cocky grin. “I’m a lot tougher than I look,” he added.

“I’m sure you think you are, but I’m not letting you get back up there with all that cognac in your system.”

Daniel’s deep laugh filled the cramped living room with a sudden rush of warmth Pamela had never felt before.

“My dear woman,” he began. “I have been known to put a hell of a lot more than that away on any given night behind the bar. Trust me, I’m stone cold sober.”

She frowned. “You drink at work?”

He took another step closer, letting his body ease right up next to hers. He stared down into her gray eyes. “I’m a bartender, drinking on the job is required.”

“You don’t seem like a bartender to me. You’re well educated, resourceful, and have a curious mind. I’d say there is more to you than just tending bar and getting in fights with customers.”

He stared up at the ceiling, appearing to mull over her observations. Then he gave her an amusing smile. “Sorry, that about covers it for me. Drinking and fighting are what I’m best at.”

“But you can replace shingles on a roof? There must be other things you’re good at?”

“There are other things I can do, but I’m not necessarily good at them. And most men know how to replace shingles on a roof. A compulsion for making minor household repairs is just one of the side effects of testosterone.”

Pamela immediately broke out into a fit of laughter.

A perplexed look came over Daniel’s face. “It wasn’t that funny,” he commented.

Pamela wiped a happy tear from the corner of her eye. “It’s just that my ex-husband always said manual labor was the result of not having enough intelligence to know how to avoid it.”

Daniel furrowed his brow at her. “Sounds like a great guy. How long were you married?”

“Eight years.”

“May I ask what happened?”

Pamela waved her hand casually in the air. “When I was diagnosed with lupus things started to fall apart. Bob tried to be the dutiful husband and help me through the bad patches, but after a few years he couldn’t handle it any more. So he asked for a divorce.”

“What an asshole,” Daniel said as he frowned at Pamela. “Why on earth did you marry him?”

“We met right after I was in a pretty bad car accident. He became my attorney and handled my lawsuit against the drunk driver who hit me. We wound up spending a lot of time together. Lunch meetings became dinner meetings and then our meetings turned into dates. I thought he was charming, kind, and would always be there for me. I was wrong.” She wrapped her arms about her body. “You ever been married?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. I’m not cut out for long-term relationships. Most women get sick of my shit and quickly move on. It’s better that way. What happened today is something I never let anyone see. At times it becomes really hard hiding my PTSD from the world, but so far I have been able to keep most of my symptoms under control.”

“And when you can’t keep it under control anymore?”

“Then it will be time for me to move on. I’ll find a new town, and new people, who don’t know anything about me.”

“Is that what you have been doing? Moving from one town to the next to try and hide your condition?”

He turned away from her and went back to the couch. He removed the blanket from around his shoulders and picked up his bloody T-shirt. “It’s worked pretty well for me so far.”

“But you can’t go on like that forever, Daniel.”

He pulled the T-shirt over his head. “You don’t get it, Pamela,” he said with a hint of frustration in his voice. “For someone like me there isn’t a forever. Right now is about all I can handle.”

She stood in silence as she watched him neatly fold up the blanket and place it on her couch. He then picked up the half full glass of cognac and downed the contents in one long swallow.

“If you aren’t going to let me back on your roof, then I better head back to the city,” he grumbled as he banged the glass down on the coffee table.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be driving right now. Why not wait a while longer before you get behind the wheel?”

“I’m fine,” he said, avoiding her eyes. He moved to the front door. “I’ll come back tomorrow after lunch and finish the roof.” He reached for the doorknob. “Thanks for today, Pamela. I know what you must think of me, but I promise I will be out of your life soon.” And with that he opened the door and stepped out into the fading afternoon light.

Pamela felt her body jump as he slammed the door shut behind him. She closed her eyes and cursed her own insecurities for not allowing her to tell him what she was thinking. Her hands curled into fists as she tried to suppress the flood of emotion that was suddenly inundating her. She did not want to feel her heartstrings tug for another, not another human anyway. She could not risk letting someone else in and she had spent enough time with the opposite sex to know that relationships only ended up being mistakes that she wished had never happened. No, it was best not to entertain any emotional feelings for Daniel Phillips. Her animals fulfilled her and she knew the silly banter between two lonely people would never amount to anything. Besides, a man like Daniel Phillips would only use her and move on, and she had endured enough heartbreak for one lifetime.