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The railing is almost up to their shoulders, so there’s no chance of anyone tumbling over the edge.
My gaze meets Willow’s, and the way she grins turns my blood molten.
“This way, ladies,” I say, ripping my eyes away.
We finally reach the railing and I hold the girls tight, pointing down. “Go on. Be very quiet. Take a nice, long look.”
At first sight of the tiger, the girls freeze, tensing in my arms.
Their little chins fall, awestruck wonder shining on their faces.
“Dad. That’s...that’s not a cat,” Sawyer whispers, gawking at Bruce in disbelief. “Dad, that’s a—”
“Shhh. I know, baby. Believe me, I know.”
Avery trembles, so fixated on seeing Bruce that she’s speechless.
As if the king below knows he has an audience, his tail twitches, slapping the hay where he’s sprawled out in a huge orange-and-black heap. A muffled snort billows out of him, just loud enough for us to hear.
Sawyer grips my forearm and squeezes for dear life, wearing the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.
I’d better give them fair warning.
“Listen, girls, he’s only with us for a short time. Enjoy it while you can. I’m helping Willow find him a new home.”
“W-why?” Avery stammers.
She never takes her eyes off the otherworldly cat tucked in the straw, his huge green-gold eyes half lidded.
“He couldn’t stay at his old place.” Searching for an excuse, I add, “This big old barn your grandfather built is the only one in the area secure enough to hold him. We’re lucky he’s here, and so is he.”
“Oh, Daddy. Were they mean to him?” Avery asks, her voice hitching. She looks at Willow. “At his old home, I mean?”
Nothing gets past my little detective.
My throat tightens.
“Yes,” Willow says softly. “It just...it wasn’t a good fit. He deserves a better home.”
At the sound of her voice, despite the fact that she’d whispered, Bruce lifts his head, his eyes peeling wide open. The girls stiffen in my arms, their breath stuck to their lungs.
Then the furry hulk lets out a bellowing yawn, followed by a low growl, tilting his head up to watch us.
“Dad...is he mad that we’re looking at him?” Sawyer asks nervously.
“Nope. That’s his happy sound. It means he’s really content,” Willow answers sweetly, just as Bruce settles his head on his paws again and goes back to sleep. “He likes it here. He’s very comfortable.”
“But he’s a wild animal,” I remind them.
I can’t let Willow’s gentle giant talk go to their heads.
“Why can’t we tell anyone?” Avery twists to look at me. “Why the big secret?”
My jaw clenches.
This is what I was afraid of.
Before I have a chance to get tongue-tied, Willow lays one hand on Avery’s shoulder—and the other on mine.
“It’s for his safety. He could get agitated if too many people start coming out to see him, and you know this is a town where nobody’s business stays secret for long,” Willow says gently. “And anyone who hears about him...well, they’ll react just like you two did. They’ll be beating down the doors to this barn for a look. It’s not every day you find out there’s a tiger next door, right?”
Slowly, their little heads nod, and I do too.
Damn good answer.
I’m grateful she saved me some explaining.
“So, um, Willow...are you our nanny or not? Are you actually a zookeeper?” Sawyer asks, always obsessed with finding out everything right down to the smallest detail.
My girls could run circles around Holmes and Watson.
And are Willow’s eyes twinkling or am I just drunk on adrenaline?
“Yes, that’s part of the deal,” she whispers. “Your father agreed to help me with Bruce, and I agreed to help him by taking care of you two troublemakers. Until we find a new home for Bruce, I’m your nanny.”
We stand there for some time with the girls rushing out questions, their excitement growing as Willow answers kindly and patiently.
Bruce snores on below. I’m relieved to find out their high-pitched little girl voices don’t keep him up.
When Willow admits she’s a zoologist, the animal questions come flying fast and furious.
How old is he?
What does he eat?
Why are tigers striped?
Was he born in the wild?
How’d you get him here?
Does he have cubs?
The whip-fast Q & A session makes my brain whirl in a mini tiger education frenzy. Willow takes it in stride, full of wisdom and saintly smiles.
Eventually, after a good half hour or more, I say it’s time to leave.
Naturally, the girls don’t want to go, but they’ll do anything for another chance to see him, so they agree—after I pinky swear we’ll be back a few more times before Bruce leaves.
“I’m gonna write a poem about him!” Avery hollers as soon as we’re outside and on the ground again. “Oh! And I wanna draw pictures. I’ll use the fancy crayons you got me for school, Daddy.” Glancing up at me as we walk to the door, she adds, “But I’ll only show it to you and Willow. Promise.”
