Page 44 of On the Run
I gaped at him.
He stood and dusted his ass off, took his binoculars out of his Mary Poppins bag, then somehow managed to leap the boat in a single bound like a cat… or a superhero.
“Wanna go look for the plovers while this patch sets up?” he asked, like he hadn’t just turned me upside down and shaken me hard. He held out a hand to pull me to my feet and then led the way down the dock while I trailed after him.
“So… so then what?” I asked. “After you read that column?”
“Hmm? Oh. Then I started thinking about what I liked to do.” Beale paused as he stepped onto the rocky shore. “And there wasn’t anyonething I was passionate about, but I like rescuing animals, and I like crystals and holistic medicine, and I like nutrition. So I started listening to audiobooks a good bit, while I was running or working out, or even sometimes out on the water. Did you know they even have poetry collections on audio?”
I shook my head.
“Wild, right? And after I learned a bit and got a little confidence, I started volunteering with the Nature Center, and I got to have this whole other thing in my life that I loved. And it’s all thanks to Hagatha.” He winked. “Whoever she might be.”
“Oh.”
Look, it’s not like I’d never considered that I helped people. I was sure I helped the actual people who wrote in—at least helped them to feel heard and seen, even if they never took my advice. But the idea that people who read this weren’t just entertained by it buttouchedby it?
No, I could honestly say I’d never considered that.
Beale cleared his throat. “So, okay. Our goal here is to count plovers.”
“Which are birds.”
“Still birds, Toby, yes.” He rolled his eyes, as I’d expected, and the mood lightened. “We can’t really walk the whole perimeter of the island because the mangroves grow so thick on the far side, so we’re just going to walk the beach. We’ll start in this direction.” He nodded right.
“And then back the other way.” I nodded confidently, as though plover-spotting was a thing I did regularly.
“See? And you made it sound like this was your first rodeo.”
I snorted.
“We’ll try to get a count of birds and eggs, and I’ll upload the information to the website when we get home. Okay?”
Homewas a very weird concept as pertained to the little guesthouse, but I nodded. “It occurs to me that it would be helpful if you were to give me a brief primer on what, precisely, a plover looks like.”
Beale’s mouth twitched. “I was wondering if you were going to ask.” He pulled up a picture on his phone and handed it to me.
“It’s not bad-looking, as sky vermin go,” I approved, looking at the short, pudgy, brown-and-white creature.
“The black stripe on their foreheads indicates that they’re ready for mating.”
“Handy. Probably saves them a lot of time hanging out at bird bars, chatting up other birds who just want to be friends. Enables them to find their feathered soul mates that much faster.”
Beale’s lips quirked and he shook his head.
We set off, and for a few seconds, the only sounds were the squeaking of fine sand under our feet, the crash of waves, and the cawing of birds overhead.
“You know, I almost sent a letter to Aunt Hagatha once.”
I nearly tripped over my sandals. “You?”
He shot me a glance. “Surprised?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “You seem to have things so very under control.”
“Me? After everything I’ve told you?” Beale adjusted the bandanna on his unfairly un-sweaty face and gave me his “you’re insane, but I enjoy it” look. “No.”
“Let’s recap, shall we? Last night, you kept Marjorie from attacking me, this morning you saved me from a vigilante microwave—” I counted off on my fingers.
