Four
I think I need to quit my job to focus on my laundry.
—Constance to her mother
Constance
I didn’t sleep all that great.
I didn’t know if it was due to me dreading the morning to come or lamenting myself for the thousandth time for stooping down to a third grader’s level.
I couldn’t believe I’d driven behind him with my brights on until he turned into his stupid cute house in the middle of downtown.
I also couldn’t believe that I would have to pass his house every time I came into Sawtooth to grocery shop.
Maybe Bear Pass would get a grocery store soon, and I would never have to go to Sawtooth again.
I pounded my pillow and rolled over to look at my ceiling.
I liked the new house.
It was at the base of the mountains. Mountains were on one side, and a bubbling river was on the other.
When we’d moved, we’d contacted the local game wardens in the area and told them about what we did.
Mom and Dad had been rehabilitating wildlife forever. I’d joined in because their love of animals had been instilled in me at a very young age. And all three of us had built the Wildlife Rehab Center in Alabama up to what it was.
When social media had started to do its thing, I’d taken to the internet to promote the cause.
Now the WRC had over a million followers who loved to experience the everyday life of a recovering raptor or bear.
Or, sometimes even a squirrel or two.
When we’d moved, the family had “branched out” so to speak.
Mom and Dad had left WRC Alabama to be run by my brother and sister, Harvey and Essie.
Meanwhile, they’d followed me to Montana because let’s face it, seeing your one and only grandchild close to death was enough to cause anyone to panic.
I wasn’t sure they’d stay here forever, but for now, they were a permanent fixture.
Dad found out from the local game wardens in Jesper County that this place had come up for sale.
It was big enough that we could spread out with the recovering wildlife, while also providing the area with valuable resources that we would need as we got the wildlife back up to snuff.
I’d just sat up and decided that I needed to get dressed when claws sounded against stone right outside my window.
I smiled as I saw Possum perched on my windowsill.
“Hello, Possum,” I said as I opened the window for him. “You’re up early.”
Possum was actually an Osprey.
He’d come to us as a malnourished baby and had been released into the wild as soon as he was well enough.
The only problem was, he hadn’t wanted to be released into the wild.
He’d wanted to stay where we were, and he was getting three five-course meals a day.
