Around one last curve she spotted her own fence, like a drawbridge lowered into her own backyard.She walked across the wooden slats and stepped down onto the grass.She crossed the remaining turf and opened her back door to find good old Beaufort still in bed.
The hound raised his head and his tail whipped back and forth.He stood up and stretched a deep, doggy stretch, front paws extended all the way forward.
“You will not believe the night I’ve had, Beaufort.”Beaufort trotted over for pats and behind-the-ear scratches.Corinthia obliged.“Let me use the bathroom, my friend, and I’ll get you outside for a walk.”
When she returned, she bent down to put on the dog’s harness and leash, wondering if the green cottage had its own facilities, or if Rosemary changed into a bird like she did to eat and drink.It might make long stays awkward if Corinthia had to walk all the way home for a restroom.
Long stays!Corinthia straightened up with the leash in hand, Beaufort pulling at the other end.How could she even be thinking about long stays?They had known each other for a few days!Yet as quickly as the practical side of Corinthia called out this issue, the practical side of Corinthia also brushed it aside by deciding that Rosemary would have to come to Corinthia’s place for long stays, if necessary.Problem solved.
More pressing, in the light of day, was the problem of how she could casually accept the existence of someone who claimed to be both bird and woman.
Because, she concluded,it is as likely as anything else.If the world could contain green cottages with living timbers, it could certainly contain bird-women.
And that was that.She took Beaufort outside.
But what todowith Rosemary?If she was like the scrub jays—if shewasa scrub jay—then Corinthia must learn more about scrub jay habits.Rosemary deserved to be free as… well, a bird!
Where could she go that was close to the Refuge?There was the Shadow Ridge Library, of course, and the Shadow Ridge Environmental Center; the Pollinator Garden, and the Outdoor Amphitheater.The parking lot was more distant but not by much, and it had the pop-up vendor fair.
On the other side of the Refuge was Corinthia’s own neighborhood.Rosemary had already proven herself able to cross that border well enough to reach Corinthia’s house.Perhaps she could reach Stevie’s house, if she tried.
When Corinthia returned to her front yard, her home’s resemblance to the green cottage struck her fully: also green, petite in size, simple in its lines, with a barely-used kitchen and shelves upon shelves of books.
Beaufort, however, was not interested in such things, and instead applied his nose to sniffing the grass as if he had never sniffed it before in his life.
“Beaufort,” Corinthia said, “what do you make of all of it?”
Though the hound had been known to ignore her entirely in favor of the pursuit of a scent, Beaufort lifted his head so quickly that one ear flipped backward.He looked at Corinthia with knowing eyes, then shuffled over and leaned his flank against Corinthia’s shin.
Corinthia softly turned the dog’s silky ear down and smoothed it into place.“You probably know everything,” Corinthia said.“You just can’t say it.”
Beaufort huffed.
“Come along, dog.”Corinthia led Beaufort back inside, where he was thoroughly patted, treated, fed, and watered before Corinthia left for the Shadow Ridge Library.
She managed not to spill anything to Stevie other than to ask to meet for lunch in the Pollinator Garden.Work flew by when it should have dragged.Corinthia pushed the free book cart outside with even more vigor than normal.She processed books and shelved books and found books for patrons.She had such a renewed sense of purpose that even the lights in the artificial tree seemed to spark with new meaning.
At lunchtime, she took her bagged lunch to the Pollinator Garden and sat on the bench beneath the arbor, facing a trellis covered with yellow-flowered vines.Makeshift bird baths here and there reflected the cloudy sky, and stepping stone paths wound through plantings of milkweed and bee balm.The plant containers didn’t match, either, which added to the lively garden chaos.A touch of informality, Corinthia reflected, made a space more welcoming to newcomers.
Curious scrub jays bravely ventured a few feet out of the Refuge and drank from the bird baths, vigilantly looking all around between beakfuls of water.Corinthia peered at them, looking for signs that one of them might be Rosemary, but other than the distinctly alert eyes they all possessed, she could find no feature with which to firmly identify the woman with whom she’d spent the night.
There were other species of birds, too.Occasionally they would squabble amongst themselves.Their noisy calls made the garden slightly less tranquil than one might have imagined, and sometimes gave it the air of a winged boxing match.
Stevie approached on the outer path, ponytail rampant, lunch bag swinging.
Corinthia waved.
Stevie plopped down on the bench.“So!”she said, elbowing Corinthia.“You had something to tell me?”
Corinthia opened her brown paper bag, took out a peanut butter sandwich, and began to unwrap it.
“Well?”Stevie prodded.
“I’m thinking,” Corinthia said.
Stevie, who was well-used to Corinthia thinking, took out her own lunch container and opened it, revealing segmented compartments of cheese, meat, fruit, and veggies, along with a separate space for dip and another spot for M&Ms.
“I went to Rosemary’s house.”
