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“I’ll let you off the hook and skip my childhood. Let’s start right around high school graduation. I’d never been a great student. I--”
“Really, Cally? You’re so smart.”
I may be the first woman he’s ever met, but he’s a natural at making his dinner companion feel appreciated.
“Thanks, but all my report cards used the phrase, ‘if only she would apply herself’.”
I glance at him with a self-deprecating shrug. When I catch the enchanted expression on his face, another one of those swift, hot zings flashes through my body.
If we spend enough time together, I’ll have to teach him to have a better poker face. It would be far too easy for a person with ill intent to take advantage of someone as open and candid as him.
I explain that I didn’t feel ready for college and had saved up all my years of dog-walking money for my grand adventure. A road trip to Alaska.
“From the time I was five, mom and dad would pack up our Airstream Bambi and we’d head out on road trips every time they had holiday time together. Just picked a direction and went. When I decided to do an internship after high school instead of going to college, they gifted me the little silver Bambi to pull behind my used Subaru Forester.”
“I thought it was a stroke of luck when one of my dad’s friends had to re-home Tater. He’s the g-o-o-d-e-s-t boy.” I’d lowered my voice on those last two words because he’s finally asleep at the foot of Sylas’s chair and I didn’t want to get him all fired up again.
“He proved to be the perfect companion as I set off on my journey to Alaska. I was beyond thrilled to work at a wildlife sanctuary near Anchorage. That was when I realized how many animals were injured or killed on highways and how many orphans died because of that carnage. It inspired me to write a book.”
I glance at him to see if he’s even still listening. It wouldn’t be the first time someone lost interest before I even got to the good part of my story. He seems entranced—his little tail is wagging slowly—so I continue.
“When my internship was up, Tater Tot and I headed south to Washington State to start working on the book. I chose the state animal for each state and drove until I found one on the road.”
His eyes widen and his entire body tips back.
“I know, gruesome, right? But I was armed with statistics of the carnage, and there was a grand purpose behind it. In addition to hunting for the ravaged roadside victims, I spent lots of time in wildlife areas taking pictures of critters gamboling in their natural habitats.”
He settles back, his face still skeptical. That’s okay. I haven’t fully explained things yet.
“Each of the fifty chapters has the money shot. That is, after all, what got people to buy the book, but it has so many happy pictures of healthy wildlife. The end of each chapter is filled with statistics of how many animals are killed every year on American roads, and a call to action for people to donate to wildlife charities, including my pet projects, land bridges. That’s where safe passages are constructed over or under busy highways for wildlife to cross.”
He’s nodding his head, a calm smile on his face, now that he understands the concept.
“Half the proceeds of the book go straight to charity, and although it’s impossible to calculate, several charities mentioned in the book reached out to inform me that their annual income increased by about seventeen percent the year my book launched. They attribute it to my book.”
I’m very proud of my book and the results, but not everyone is a fan of the concept. It was quite controversial, which is what earned me a spot on The View. By the calm, approving look on Sylas’s face, though, he’s a fan.
“When I began, I didn’t know if my book would make a dime, but I was on a mission and it was the perfect way to see America, work odd jobs along the way, and grow up a bit.”
I grab my last bite of the pasta primavera. Sylas has praised it a dozen times during the meal. I must admit, it’s yummy.
“That’s an amazing story, Cally. A wonderful concept that has done so much good in the world in such a short time. I’m… proud of you.”
He almost reaches to grab my hand but thinks better of it and snaps his hand back to hide in his lap.
“Are you purposely withholding the name of this book? You’ve told me everything about it but the name,” Sylas goads.
“You’ll laugh. Then you’ll be appalled.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Let me get my camera and record your reaction. You’ll see. We should make a bet.”
“You’re on! What are the stakes?”
I almost blurt, “A kiss.” Why would that idea pop into my mind? He’s a splicer! We were enemies until an hour ago.
“If I’m right, Sylas… you do tonight’s dishes.”
