Wild Birds of Maine

And I was standing there in nothing but a t-shirt and underpants, she thought. What if he had kissed me then?

Without conscious guidance, her hand slipped beneath her body and between her thighs. The images in her mind slipped back and forth. She was sitting on Zach's bed, taking his erect cock in her hand. She was standing at the foot of his porch steps, kissing him passionately. She was taking him in her mouth. They were lying together in the grass as the rain began to fall.

Emma's fingers slid between her labia, and she was surprised at how wet she was. What if he were here now? In her fantasy, she pictured him behind her. She imagined his hands on her hips, and she arched her back, as if to meet him. She circled her clit with her fingertips. Her breathing grew rapid.

Once again, the images came to her in rapid succession; she was sucking his cock, riding him in the yard, kneeling on her bed as he fucked her. She began to tremble. She felt lightheaded. Her thighs squeezed her hand, and her hips dropped back to the mattress.

When the orgasmic waves of pleasure washed over her, she was surprised by their intensity. She lay prone across the bed, gasping for breath, then rolled on her side and pulled the edge of the quilt up to cover herself.

She waited for the drop off. She had rarely masturbated since Greg's death. When she had, it had always led to a spell of grief afterwards. Even when she consciously tried to block thoughts of him from her mind, to fantasize about some handsome movie star or sexy athlete, in the end, it had been Greg she saw as she came, and her longing for him overtook her in the aftermath.

The drop off didn't come. She snuggled beneath the quilt, feeling warm and relaxed. As she drifted off to sleep, a saxophone was playing in her head.

****

Emma's eyes blinked open. Someone was knocking on her door. She jumped up and pulled on her robe, knotting it around her waist as she went down the stairs. It was probably Bev, or the UPS man; they were only ones who ever came to her door. But he usually just gave a quick rap and left the package.

Emma looked out the window. Zach was standing on the porch. She blushed when she saw him, as if she thought he would somehow be able to know of her fantasy about him. She opened the door and he held out a bouquet of sunflowers and black-eyed susans.

"I went by the store, and Bev told me where you lived," he said, "I hope you don't mind me coming over."

"No, that's fine, come in," she said, pushing open the screen door.

"It looks like maybe I came at a bad time."

"I was just taking a nap."

"Shit. I woke you up."

"It's fine, I slept long enough."

He handed her the bouquet "I got these for you."

"Thank you," she said, taking them and going to the cupboard to get a vase.

Did you notice," he asked, "They're yellow and brown, to match the sparrow's colors."

"That's very clever."

"Yeah?" Well, you know, there are not a lot of brown flowers."

"No, that would defeat the whole purpose of being a flower."

"What do you mean?"

"Flowers evolved bright coloring and sweet scents to attract pollinators. A plain brown flower wouldn't reproduce, it wouldn't survive."

Shut up about reproducing, she told herself. She put the flowers in a vase and set it in the middle of the dining room table.

"Anyway," Zach said, looking down at the floor, "I thought we ought to be celebrating, so I came to the store thinking I could ask you if you wanted to go out to dinner."

"That would be lovely," Emma said.

He looked up and smiled and she wondered what would happen if she were to just open her robe right then, but she pulled the belt a little tighter and said, "I'll run upstairs and get dressed. Can I get you anything first?"

"No, I'm good."

"Okay, I'll be be right back."

She put on a pair of black slacks and a white and pink pattern sweater. She had to dig around in the back of her closet to find her nice pair of pumps. When she was dressed, she went to the bathroom, quickly combed her hair and gargled some mouthwash. Her make up kit sat on a shelf above the toilet. She couldn't remember the last time she had put any on. Maybe just a touch of lipstick, she thought, but decided against it.

When she came downstairs, Zach was in the living room, squatting in front of one of her bookcases. Looking over his shoulder at her, he said "You've got a lot of books about the Civil War."

"Those were Greg's."

"Lots of novels too. I thought it would be a whole case full of books about birds and photography."

Emma frowned. She didn't like being thought of as one dimensional.

Zach rose, looking sheepishly at her. "That was a dumb thing to say, huh?"

Emma shrugged. "I'm getting used to people referring to me as the bird lady."

"Oh, you're a lot more than that. So, where should we go for supper?"

"Have you ever been to Fletchers on the Falls?"

"I've never eaten anywhere in this town except for hot dogs at the Citgo station."

"Fletchers is better."

"Great. We'll go there."

As they walked to Zach's car, he said, "I really feel like I was a jackass saying that about your books."

"It's okay," she said, getting in the passenger side.

"It's just that I don't know that much about you except for the bird stuff."

"What do you want to know?"

He didn't answer until they had turned on to the main road. "I don't know," he said, "Tell me something about you that I wouldn't guess."

Emma sat quietly for a moment. "Horror movies," she told him, "I love horror movies."

"What's your favorite? The Birds?"

She looked at him with an exaggerated scowl, then they both laughed.

"If I had to pick a favorite, I'd say Night of the Living Dead."

"The original or the remake?"

"The original, of course. I am a classicist."

Emma directed Zach through town to River Road, then past Waterfall Park and into the driveway to the restaurant.

Fletchers was located in an old mill that loomed over the river just above the top of the falls."It looks pretty rustic," Zach said, getting out of the car.

"Only on the outside."

The roar of falling water grew louder as they walked to the the gray clapboard building. Inside, it was a bright, modern restaurant.

"Can we get a seat by the windows?" Emma asked the hostess. The young woman nodded and led them to their table.

"Wow, they aren't kidding about being on the falls," Zach said, looking out the window. They had a good view of the wide upper falls and of the swirling pools and stepping stone ledges of granite that tumbled down to the placid river below.

"There's some ducks down there," Zach said.

"I can't see them from here," Emma replied.

"Some of them have green heads. Those are Mallards, right?"

"Very good," she smiled, "I think duck is on the menu, in case they are whetting your appetite."

Zach laughed. "You actually have kind of a twisted sense of humor, don't you?"

"Oh yeah, all of us bird ladies do."

Neither of them ordered duck. Zach got the ribeye, Emma, poached salmon.

They made small talk as they ate. Emma asked Zach about his work, and while she did not find the particulars very interesting, she enjoyed listening to him talk.

"The food here is really good," he said as they finished their meal. "Do you come here very often?"

Emma had not been to Fletchers since she and Greg had celebrated their last anniversary. She decided not to share that. "It's been a while," she said.

"Should we get dessert?" Zach asked.

"No. I really don't eat that much."

Zach smiled. "I almost said you eat like a bird, but I'm learning."

"We probably ought to go and let them have the table," Emma said, looking at the line that had formed at the door.

Zach looked disappointed. "Why don't we have a drink at the bar before we go," he asked, "To toast our discovery."

Emma agreed. Zach paid the check and they went into the bar.

"I thought we would split it," Emma said.

"Oh. Well, how about you pick up the check next time?

"All right," she nodded, feeling a tingle of delight that he assumed there would be a next time.

"What will you have?" He asked, "Wild Turkey? Grey Goose?"

"You just can't help yourself can you? But sure, how about a shot of Wild Turkey?"

"Make that two," Zach told the bartender. When the whiskey arrived, they clicked their glasses together.

"To you and me and Bart the bird," Zach said.

They downed the whiskey, then Emma said "Let's go out on the bridge."

"The bridge?"

"Follow me."

She led him out the rear entrance of the restaurant onto a wooden deck, then down a short flight of stairs to a boardwalk that ran along the banks of the river. A short distance upstream, the boardwalk connected with a wooden bridge.

As they stepped onto the bridge, Zach's hand bumped against the back of Emma's. She thought it was just an accident, but when his hand grazed hers again, she took it, and they held hands as they crossed the bridge.

There was a fine mist in the air above the cascading water. The sun had dropped low in the sky and, here and there, rainbow prisms flickered. On the far side of the bridge, a half dozen steps lead down to a viewing platform that jutted out over the tumbling river. It was enveloped in the shadow of the tall pines that surrounded it on the landward side, but the day's last light still glittered on the river below.

Emma stepped to the railing and looked down. "There's the ducks," she said.

"I was right wasn't I," Zach asked, "Mallards?"

"Mostly. There are a few black ducks mixed in with them, but I'll give you full credit."

Zach stood behind Emma and placed his hands on the top rail on either side of her. She leaned back against him and looked up over her shoulder.

Zach kissed your cheek. "I'm so glad that little bird came into my yard," he whispered.

Emma turned toward him. She felt a knot in her stomach. The kiss they had shared in his yard could be attributed to excitement in the spur of the moment. A kiss now would be deliberate, intentional. A kiss now would be a step on a journey that she she was not sure she was ready to take.

Zach stared into her eyes, then tilted his head and lowered his face toward hers. When his mouth touched hers, her hesitation melted away and she welcomed it. His lips parted, ever so slightly, and she lightly flicked her tongue at them.

He closed his arms around her and kissed her harder, his tongue slipping into her mouth. She caressed it with her own, and raised her arms over his shoulders.

They kissed for no more than a minute when a murmur of voices rose above the noise of the falls. Zach leaned back, and Emma turned her head.

There was an elderly couple on the bridge.The man was stooped over, shuffling along pushing a walker. The woman, his wife, no doubt, walked slowly behind him, her hands on the small of his back. They stopped to look down at the water. The woman took a plastic bag from her purse and removed several slices of white bread. She tore them into small pieces and tossed them to the ducks below. Emma wanted to call out and tell her that she should not do that, that it was not healthy for them. But even in the dimming light, she could see the joy on the old man's face as he watched the ducks dart about, snatching the bread from the surface of the river, and she said nothing.

Zach leaned on the rail next to Emma. They watched as the couple turned and slowly made their way back to Fletchers. Zach spoke to Emma, but had to repeat himself; Emma was caught up in watching the man's slow hesitant steps and the way the woman tenderly, loyally, escorted him.

"I'm sorry," she said, once she realized Zach had been speaking.

"That's okay," he said, "I was asking you what you thought about tomorrow morning."

"What about tomorrow morning?"

"Haven't you read your emails?"

"No," she said, "I forgot to charge my phone."

A wide grin spread across Zach's face. He took his phone from his pocket, and opened his mail.

"Eight o'clock tomorrow morning we're going to be interviewed by channel five news from Bangor. They'll meet us at your store."

Emma felt a flush of heat course through her. "How did that happen?"

"I forwarded your email to them."

"You did what?"

"Yeah. And to channel eleven. And the Bangor Daily News and the Portland Press Herald."

"Jesus. Not the New York Times? I can't believe you did that."

Zach look bewildered. "Sure. Why not?"

"You didn't say anything about it to me!"

"But I just thought..."

"You thought you could make decisions that affect me without consulting me first?"

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to hold back the rising flood of bad feelings.

Zach put his hand on her shoulder. "I thought that the publicity would be good for the bird store."

Emma shook his hand away. "That's not the point."

She turned and stared out over the river. I hate this feeling, she thought, and I didn't expect to ever feel it again.

"I'm really sorry," Zach said, "I only did what I thought was best."

"Goddamn it," Emma barked, glaring at him."I don't want someone to decide what is best for me, Zach. That's the kind of shit Greg used to do, just tell me 'by the way we're doing the Farmington fair' or 'I told that gallery in Portland that they could show a couple of your prints.'"

Her hands were shaking. When Zach raised his arms as if to hug her, then dropped them helplessly to his sides, she was struck with remorse that she had blown up at him, and turned away, sobbing.

She gripped the rail tightly and fought to get control of herself. After a few minutes, she said, "I'm sorry that I yelled at you."

"I had it coming," Zach said. "I'll reply and tell them we won't be doing it."

"No," Emma said, "We should do it. It's a good idea. And Bev will go nuts if she finds out we said no."

On some signal known only to themselves, the ducks rose in unison and flew off downriver, quickly disappearing into the darkness. Emma and Zach walked back across the bridge in uncomfortable silence. When they reached the car, Zach opened the passenger door for Emma. He started to speak, but stopped and closed the door. Once he was in the drivers seat, he turned to face her.

"Emma..." He hesitated, then started again, "Emma, I just really want to tell you how much I..."

"Not now, Zach," she said, "Let's just go home."

He nodded and started the car. Emma stared out the window as they drove through the dark town, trying to sort out her mixed emotions.

She liked Zach, liked him a lot. She had reveled in his kisses. They made her feel something she had not felt in a long time, something she had thought she would never feel again.

But, she had grown used to her solitary life. Hell, her nearest neighbors were dead civil war soldiers. She had no real friends, other than Bev, and she had not even considered dating since Greg had died. Now, the first time she felt any interest in someone, the old issues rose to the surface.

It only took a few minutes to drive to her house. Zach pulled into the driveway.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning," he said.

"I guess you will," she replied. "Good night."

She got out of the car and walked to the house, half hoping for, half dreading, the sound of his door opening and closing. But he backed up and drove away, and she went inside to call Bev and let her know that things might get crazy.

CHAPTER SIX

Bev was sweeping the sidewalk in front of the store when Emma arrived in the morning. Lily had a rag and a squirt bottle of glass cleaner and was halfheartedly wiping one of the windows.

Emma parked behind the building, then walked around to the front.

"You are here early," she said to Bev.

"Well, we are going to be on TV, I wanted to make sure the place looked nice."

"Where's Zach?" Lily asked.

"I don't know, I suppose he will be here soon."

"I thought the two of you would come together."

"Why would you think that?"

Lily smirked and made another swipe across the window.

"Hey," Bev said, "I got an email from the guy who makes the t-shirts. He wants to make us some with your sparrow on them."

"Jesus. How did he know already?"

"Said that somebody from the Audubon tweeted about it."

"Shit. Well, I guess it's a good idea."

"Glad you think so, because I told him yes."

Everybody thinks they know what's best for me, Emma thought, and I don't even know that. She heard a car approaching and turned to see Zach parking in front of Ames' barber shop. He stepped out of the car, waved and said hello to Bev and Lily, then put his hand on Emma's arm.

"I was wondering if you and me could talk for few minutes," he said.

Emma pulled her arm away. "Not right now, Zach."

Zach looked at Bev with an embarrassed expression. She gave a slight shrug, then took her broom into the store. Lily leaned against the window, clearly eager to eavesdrop.

"At least we have to go over what we're going to tell the reporters," Zach said.

"Reporters?"

He looked down at his feet. "Yeah, I think a couple of newspaper reporters are coming, too."

"Oh, geez."

"That's not on me," he said, raising his hands in a gesture of helplessness, "They're coming because they found out the TV station was coming."

"And who invited the TV station?"

"Well, okay. That's on me."

"I don't feel like we have to rehearse. We just tell them what happened."

Bev came out of the store. "Listen you guys," she said, "I've got to take the princess here to school. I'll be back as quick as I can.."

Emma gave her a pleading luck. "You have to take her now?"

"Yeah, but I'll be back in ten minutes. If the TV crew gets here before I'm back, make sure they get a picture of the sign. Come on, Lily."

"You know," Lily said, "If you had bought me a car you wouldn't have to drive me to school."

Emma and Zach stood in silence as Bev and Lily drove away. After a minute, Zach said, "She's right about getting the sign in the shots."

"Zach?"

"Yeah?"

"No more advice for a while, okay?"

Thankfully, a car pulled up across the street and a small man in a large suit got out and crossed to the store. He introduced himself as a reporter for the Bangor Daily News. Emma was relieved to see him pull an old fashioned flip top spiral notebook and a pen from the pocket of his coat. She thought answering questions for him would help prepare her for doing so again on camera.

His questions were concise. Tell me about this bird. How did you get the pictures? What happens now?

As Emma was explaining that the next steps would be up to the state, a van pulled up to the curb. Across the side, big bold letters read Bangor Action News. Action? Emma thought, I took some pictures of a two ounce bird.

A short, blonde woman in a hot pink pants suit and a scruffy looking man in a Red Sox jacket got out of the van.

"You must be Zach and Emma," the woman chirped, shaking their hands while the cameraman set up a tripod. "I'm Carly Cameron, Bangor Action News. We will be ready in just a minute or two and then go on standby to go live."

"Live?" Emma asked.

"Sure, that's why we wanted to do it early, to be live on Good Morning Maine."

Emma froze.

"Great," Zach said, "That will give us a minute to prepare." He took Emma's hand and led her into the store.

"Live?" she moaned, "I can't do live TV."

"Then don't. I'll go out and I'll tell her you're not feeling well. I'll tell her what I know and that will have to be enough. You don't have to do it."

Emma looked out the window. To make matters worse, a small crowd was gathering. Dexter Ames was chatting with the cameraman. A half dozen other onlookers had gathered on the sidewalk near the newspaper reporter. Emma was on the verge of agreeing with Zach, when she saw Bev return. She's counting on me, she thought. She's always been there when I needed her.