"Coffee," he says, nodding toward the center console where there are two travel mugs. "Yours is the one on the left. Sugar, vanilla and cream. Holly told me how you like it."
He brought me coffee.
He called Holly to find out.
I'm going to have a completely normal reaction to this. I won’t overreact.
"Thank you," I say, picking it up, and my voice comes out perfectly steady and I'm very proud of myself. It’s just coffee but it is more than that. It’s his including me in his coffee run and taking the time and energy to find out what I like, instead of guessing, assuming or grabbing a bunch of packets and having me make it myself. He did say he likes to take care of people.
He gets in, and we pull out of the resort drive, and the mountains open up around us in that early morning way where the light is still gold and it looks like the road stretches on literally forever in front of us without an end.
"How many animals do you have at the rescue today?" I ask.
"Forty-three. We got a mule deer fawn last night. Car strike on Route 9." He says it without inflection, but something in his jaw shifts slightly, a tightening telling me he’s worried about the fawn. "She’ll be okay. Probably."
"What does probably depend on?"
"The next twelve hours. She's young. They either stabilize fast or they don't."
I look at his profile. The straight line of his nose, the set of his jaw, the way his hands rest on the wheel, loose but present, the grip of someone who is always ready and never tense about it. He's worried about the fawn. He's not performing calm, he'schoosing to remain calm, and I can see the seam between those two things now that I know what to look for.
He cares so much about all of it. And he's so careful about how much he shows to others. It’s hard for him to be vulnerable. I wonder briefly if being vulnerable in his past cost him something.
"What made you do this?" I ask. "Rehabilitation specifically. You could have stopped with your regular practice."
"I did, for three years. I had a small animal clinic, working with mostly pet dogs and cats. It was good work and paid well." He pauses. "First wildlife call I went on was a golden eagle with a wing injury. I spent four hours on a mountainside with it, and I knew on the drive back that I was going to change everything." He glances at me. "Some things just fit."
Some things just fit.
He says things like that, like they're simple and they land like they're not simple at all.
The ranch is twenty minutes from the resort, down a road that climbs and then opens suddenly onto a wide mountain property that takes my breath away.
It's not what I expected. I had imagined something utilitarian. In my brain there would be functional buildings, practical fencing, the aesthetic of a place where the work matters and the appearance doesn't. And it is utilitarian, the structures are clearly built for purpose, but there's something in the proportions that's right in a way that goes beyond function. The enclosures are generous and full of bedding, clean water and a level of care that goes beyond necessity. The covered areas are heated and welcoming, even as a human I can see myselfclimbing onto one of the hay bales with a blanket, paperback, and mug of coffee and snuggling down under the overhead heaters. Everything is clean and clearly maintained with the kind of consistent attention that means somebody cares, not just that somebody is responsible.
A staff of four is already working when we arrive. They look up when the truck pulls in and several of them look at me with expressions that range from curious to amused to the specific expression of people who have made a bet and believe they are about to win it. Do they know something I don’t know? Well, I do know, I just don’t know how to make it move past whatever this is we are doing to the ‘hey, I want to be your little and have you take care of me the way you take care of everything else’stage.
"This is Maya," Anthony says, getting out. "She's here to film some content and she's going to help out this morning."
"We know who she is," says a young man with red hair and the grin of someone who absolutely knows something. "Holly texted. She’s one of her best friends."
Of course she did. By the look on his face, I don’t think that’s all she told them.
Anthony gives him a look. The young man becomes very interested in the fence he was inspecting.
That was one look. One look and the man refocused. The look that might make a little squirm and their bottom tingle with expectation.
I file this away in a location to examine later. Definitely not right now. Not with him standing a foot away from me.
The morning is extraordinary.
He takes me through the enclosures in a specific order. First, the elk because they're the most striking, then the foxes because they're the most charismatic on camera, and then the deer because they're the most in-need right now and he wants to check on them. The bear cub has a whole section to himself and is, objectively, the most perfect living creature I have ever seen in my life.
"Don't," Anthony says, when he sees my face.
"I haven't done anything."
"You were about to."
