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A closer look reveals that the desperate flutter of feathers is clearly a bluebird trying to fly with only one wing. The other is tucked protectively to its side.
The bluebird hops and fails to take flight. It tries again. Then again. Leaves float down from the tree, blanketing the ground, the bird.
It needs help. It needs—
“Oh, that poor bird.” A figure rushes past me and falls to her knees beside the injured bird. A tote bag hanging from her shoulder falls to the ground, and rolls of toilet paper, bags of gummy bears, and a box of toothpaste spill out.
“What happened?” She scoops it up and brings it close to her face as a gust of wind whips between us. The bird chirps, the sound pained.
An awkward moment stretches between us before I realize the question was for me. “I—I don’t know. He was like this when I found him.”
“Hmm,” she says. The woman examines the bird’s seemingly healthy wing as she whispers to the animal. “He’ll be okay.”
“Do you know ... birds?” She’s speaking too low for me to hear, but I could swear she’s chirping.
“Of course.” She rises with the bluebird cupped in her hands. “I spent an entire year living at the Kuala Lumpur Bird Park in Malaysia. Could you help me?”
Her question registers at half speed as I pull my thoughts back from where they snagged on her casual mention of Malaysia. As if living in Malaysia were no different than living in Vermont or New Hampshire. As if it were that easy to just live somewhere else and then be in Kingsette.
I collect the assortment of items she dropped and stand. She’s four inches shorter than me, with eyes nearly the same gray-white color of her hair, which is knotted into a messy bun on top of her head. An orange bathing suit peeks out from beneath a white dress. A sleeve of tattoos culminating in a butterfly backlit by a sunburst on her right bicep completes her California surfer blended with bohemian punk look.
The effect is dizzying.
“I’m Maeve, by the way.”
Another gust of wind pulls leaves off the trees. They fall around us like the rain Kingsette so desperately needs.
“Yeah, I know.” My cheeks flush. “I mean, I guessed. We don’t often get newcomers here. It’s a small town ...”
Her lips curl in a small smile. “And I have a big reputation.” She pauses, and a heartbeat later I realize she’s waiting for me to hand her the bag, which I do.
My phone buzzes, and I glance down at the message.
Can you cover for me today? Please. I’ll owe you forever.
“I suppose you should answer that,” Maeve says. “It was nice to meet you, Hope.”
The hair on the back of my neck rises. “How did you know my name?”
“Small town.” She raises her eyebrows.
The bird makes a small pained sound. Maeve chirps and whistles in response. “I should get this little guy home. Are you coming?”
“Me? No.” Tessa’s warning twists around my thoughts, but Maeve is more quirky than creepy. “I mean, I can’t. I have to get to work.” I hold up my phone as proof.
“Of course.” She takes a step backward.
Black leaves fall faster between us, blanketing the ground, making the space between us seem impassable.
“He’ll be okay, though?”
“I’ll do all I can for him, but most of his healing will be up to him.” Maeve holds my gaze. “You’re welcome to check in on him anytime, Hope. You know where to find us.”
4
WILL
A bluebird. A fucking bluebird.
