She was alone.
But where was Rosemary?
Her senses had told her Rosemary was here, and with full certainty Corinthia knew that she had not been wrong.
And then a scrub jay fluttered to the center of the white sand circle.
If birds could learn to recognize people, so too could people learn to recognize birds.This one Corinthia knew.This one Corinthia had met over and over again, in the day and the night, and she would never mistake it for any other.
With the book in hand, Corinthia slowly moved closer.“It’s okay,” she said.“I won’t hurt you.I would never hurt you.”
The bird looked up at her, bright black eyes sharp.It cocked its head.
Corinthia lowered herself to her knees.She placed the wrapped book on the sand.“I brought you something.”
The bird hopped forward and tapped the shiny wrapping paper with its beak, seemingly investigating.
Corinthia had come so far.Had ventured so much.And yet, as she kneeled on the sand in front of a scrub jay, she could not find the words.
So she closed her eyes.She held her hands over the sand, a supplicant as much to her own feelings as the Refuge itself.The trees surrounded the clearing like cathedral columns; she breathed the wind; she listened to the bird cries in the distance, and the far-off hub-bub of the Wildlife Festival.Relax, she thought, and imagined Rosemary’s arms around her.
Then it came to her—the warmth, the glow, the life itself waiting to break free—and roots unfurled into the sand around her.Stems grew and reached for the sky.Pink and purple flowers burst into generous bunches of tiny blooms, smelling like honey and perfume.
More, she thought.
And the Refuge, eager to please, rocketed more of the flowering plants upward until Corinthia, without looking, could feel them filling the whole clearing.When a few bees descended to the newly-grown blossoms, their hum did not strike fear in Corinthia.They only reminded her of hymns sung softly.
When she opened her eyes, the scrub jay was gone.
The new-grown flowers bobbed in the breeze.
And Rosemary stood before Corinthia, an angel draped in silver-blue silk.
She reached down and picked up the gift.She smiled.“Is this what I think it is?”
“Rosemary,” Corinthia said.She stayed on her knees and took Rosemary’s hand.The words still would not come, only Rosemary’s name, so she repeated it and pressed kisses on Rosemary’s hand.It was always possible that she would look up and Rosemary would be gone, a beautiful bird flown into the wilderness once more—but there was no more fear in Corinthia’s heart; only gratitude for every moment they had already shared, and this made Corinthia strong enough to bear anything.
Instead of flying away, Rosemary sank to the sand to join Corinthia, and both of them were surrounded by flowers topped with the occasional fat bumblebee.
Faced with Rosemary so close, Corinthia’s extensive vocabulary deserted her entirely, so when Rosemary hushed her and stroked her cheek, Corinthia gratefully let go of attempting to say something clever.
Rosemary’s eyes were like the night sky, full of stars.Full of mischief, too, as she leaned closer and murmured in Corinthia’s ear.“Hey, mama,” she said, “how’s about we make it official?”
Corinthia couldn’t help laughing.“Were you listening to us?”
“I didn’t mean to, but scrub jays have excellent hearing.What do you say?”
Only one word was needed.Never mind that her whole body shouted it, that the Refuge echoed it, that Shadow Ridge itself rumbled in harmony with it.She had to say it.
And she did.
“Yes,” Corinthia said.
The simple affirmative made boldness bloom in her like the pink and purple flowers.She closed the remaining distance between them, and this time when she kissed Rosemary, her bird-woman did not disappear and leave a Jay Watch t-shirt behind.Rosemary kissed her right back, and the buzzing of the bees was no longer just any hymn but an ode to joy.Stevie was right, Corinthia thought.Everything is magic.
And then even her own busy internal monologue, constantly observing, ever analyzing, fell blissfully quiet as the kiss deepened.Every leaf in the Refuge shivered with their shared delight; the water rippled joyfully in the Ephemeral Wetlands; and even the little gray snake poked its head out of its burrow to see what all the fuss was about.
When Corinthia finally drew back it was with great reluctance, so she left kisses on Rosemary’s cheek and a few down her neck, to tide them both over until later.“I should go relieve George,” Corinthia said.
