Flyaway (19 page)

 

On a Sunday afternoon two weeks later, Valerie, Alan, and I pile into Valerie's car. In the trunk is a big cardboard box, and in that box is Tweety Bird.

"This is the place," Valerie says, and she pulls into a small gravel parking lot at the north end of the Arboretum. Aunt Mindy and Rick, who've been following us in his Maserati, pull up next to us. We step into a scene that looks like a postcard. The rolling lawns of the Arboretum are deep green, but the leaves on the trees have turned brown and gold. A blue sky stretches over gray water, and above it all, the mountains show off a dusting of white snow. The air smells sharp and fresh.

"Stevie tells me she found this robin near the Crown Hill Cemetery," Rick says as he helps Valerie unload the box from the back of the car and set it on the grass. "Why are we releasing it here instead of back where she found it?"

"Lots of flocks pass through here on their way south," Valerie says. "We're hoping this robin will join one."

Aunt Mindy hooks her arm through Rick's. "That makes sense."

Honking fills the air as a flock of geese flies overhead. They head out across the water and the whole flock turns, never breaking their V-formation. It's like they've got some computer chip inside, telling them exactly what to do.

Alan hasn't said much all morning, but when I glance his way, I catch him staring at me. I'm glad I wore one of my new pairs of jeans and my favorite baby blue sweater. He motions me to the box.

"You want to do the honors?"

He makes it sound so simple, but I can hardly imagine opening that box and setting Tweety Bird free.

"Why don't we do it together?" Valerie says.

We squat near the box. Alan, Valerie, and I take the corners; Rick and Aunt Mindy find a spot on one side. Rick grabs the lid and slides his other arm around Aunt Mindy's waist. It's crowded, but I can't help feeling there's someone missing.

"On the count of three," Alan says. "One..."

Even though the morning is chilly, I break out in a sweat. What if Tweety Bird doesn't know what to do? She'll probably sit in the bottom of the box till we force her out.

Two...

I look up. Alan's brown eyes reflect the gold of the leaves. He says the last number right to me.

"Three!"

The second we lift the lid, Tweety Bird flits away and lands in the tree right next to us. She preens her feathers with her beak and cocks her head from side to side.

"How long is she going to stay there ?" I ask.

"Shhh," Alan says. "Watch."

With a loud chirp, she flaps her wings and lifts right off the branch. She seems to hover in the air for a second, then she swoops over us and glides toward the water.

Rick and Aunt Mindy cheer; Valerie claps her hands. I want to cheer too, but the lump in my throat won't let me.

Aunt Mindy's eyes catch mine, and she comes up beside me and gives me a squeeze. I lean my head against her shoulder. Alan grabs my hand, and I hang on tight. We watch till the robin's just a speck in the wide blue sky.

Thank you to my wonderful agent, Chris Richman of Upstart Crow Literary, for taking a chance on me and giving my story wings. Thanks also to my brilliant editor, Samantha McFerrin, for attending to every detail, and to everyone at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt who helped
Flyaway
soar.

I am grateful to Candy Brown, Rebecca Mandell, and the staff at PAWS Wildlife Rehabilitation Center in Lynwood, Washington, for teaching me about bird care and giving me firsthand experience in feeding wild birds, and to Shirley Shumway of Second Chance Wildlife Care Center in Snohomish, Washington, for allowing me a peek into a home-based wildlife rehabilitation clinic. Thank you, as well, to D'Artagnan Caliman for sharing his expertise in and experience with the foster care system.

A special thanks to Darcy Pattison, whose excellent Novel Revision Retreat gave me the tools to transform my rough draft into a viable novel, and to all the members of my critique group, past and present, whose feedback guided me in honing my words.

Last, but certainly not least, I will be forever indebted to my husband, Steven Bishofsky, for always being there with an encouraging word and a listening ear, and to my parents, Bernard and Gloria Rimland, for giving me the courage to chase my dreams.