21. Logan
I understood why Heidi didn’t want to go into the hospital. When Rebecca had gone in, she’d never left. So, I let her be in charge. For better or worse, she had to be the one to make the decisions in her life. Even if that meant letting her cut me loose. George kept my paychecks coming in because I’d taken care of things for him so he could adjust to his new family. Now he was letting me adjust to mine, even though I didn’t know exactly what that was going to be.
I could feel Heidi relaxing in the seat next to me, her legs slowly falling into a normal position as she unlocked her knees and looked out the window. Her sudden pain was scary, and all I wanted to do was take her to the hospital and demand that they find and fix the problem before it happened again. But I remembered what it was like, those last days with Rebecca. If only we’d spent them trying to enjoy life, giving her experiences that reminded her of the best parts of living. My memories of her were mostly of the end. Tubes and machines and the smell of hospital antiseptic.
Maybe Heidi was just ill, and we’d get through it and shake our heads about it down the road, or maybe it was as serious as it seemed. But at least for one last day, if she wanted to pretend that she was fine, what could I say?
I pulled into a parking spot farther out marked employees and ran around the truck to help Heidi down. She was subdued and took my arm without saying anything, but she walked without leaning on me too much, and I felt my blood pressure lower a little.
She headed straight for the animal pen and pulled at my arm instead of leaning on it. There was a crowd of people gathered nearby, and Heidi picked up the pace, assuming we’d arrived just in time.
Instead, the pen was empty, and the truck was gone. Heidi leaned against the fence and stared at me, her eyes filled with tears. It was a small thing in the grand scheme, but I was as shocked as she was, that after all she’d done, all that I’d done to make sure the fawn was all right, they’d denied us our one last chance to see them before they were gone, hopefully forever.
In the distance, I heard someone calling Heidi’s name. and I turned toward the sound. Eli was striding toward us, waving his arms and yelling at us that we had to go. Something inside me snapped and I flew at him, my hands balled into fists. I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the dark green wood panels of the Visitor’s Center, seething.
“What the hell is wrong with you, man? Can’t you see she’s sick? She’s suffering, and this one thing, this one bright spot in an otherwise shitty day, that could be one of her last shitty days on earth…” I dropped him, and he sagged against the siding and smoothed down his shirt. “You couldn’t be a decent person. You just had to fuck her over one more time after all you’ve done already. Why? In case she really does die? Just had to be sure to get it in, just in case you never saw her again?”
Eli’s mouth worked, but nothing came out. I took a step toward him and felt a hand on the arm I’d drawn back to punch him. I glanced down at Heidi, who rubbed my arm and looked at me in rebuke.
“It’s not worth it, Logan. It’s okay. What’s important is that they got sent back to where they belong, right?” She glanced at Eli and back at me. “You saved him. You’re the hero. You’re my hero. Don’t let him get to you the way I did.”
I pulled her in front of me and pressed her back to my chest, wrapping my arms around her as I glared at Eli over her shoulder.
“I’m putting in my resignation, Eli. I’m sick, and I should focus on dealing with that. I’ll email you a written copy, but I’m going back to the hospital for more tests, so I won’t be back to work at all. Please don’t forget you have to have my last paycheck to me in forty-eight hours, legally, and include all remaining sick and vacation pay.”
She sagged back against me, and I held her up while Eli’s face went ashen. He stepped forward with his hand out as if to help, and I tightened my hold on her to keep her standing.
“You’re really pale, Heidi,” he said, still holding out his hand. “I was going to tell you that you needed to meet the truck out by Copper Fork. They’ll be waiting for the tranquilizers to wear off before leaving the deer.” He shot me a look and shifted his eyes back to Heidi. “Do you think you can make it?”
She nodded and straightened up a little so she was still leaning against me, but I wasn’t holding her up. “I’m having a rough day, Eli. But I’m actually feeling okay. Sometimes with long-term or terminal illness, it’s the emotional stuff that makes things difficult. How much time do we have to get out to the fork?”
“I told them to wait until you arrived, as soon as I saw your truck,” he said with a nod toward me. “I tried to get to you before you got out, but I got stopped by tourists.” He turned to me and eyed me warily.
“If that’s true, then I’m sorry I let my anger get the best of me.”
“No problem. If my girl was sick and I thought her boss had screwed her over, I’d be pretty mad, too.” He held out his hand to Heidi again, and she accepted it. He pulled her into a hug while I stepped back and hovered from nearby.
“Thanks for making sure we got to see them freed, Eli. It was good of you.”
“They’d still be here if I hadn’t gotten so caught up in my work that I forgot to tell them to wait for you. It was my fault they’re not here. But, Heidi, I want you to know that even though I’ve been an asshole to you, I never wanted to see you hurt. I’m sorry to see you go.”
They hugged again, and I fought to control my irritation as he held her close.
“Thanks, Eli. If I don’t die or anything, I’ll drop you a line and let you know,” Heidi teased, but Eli’s face echoed my emotions. “Oh, come on, guys. If I can laugh about it, you can.” I grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the truck. She stumbled behind me and waved to Eli, still laughing at me. “Bye, Eli; thanks for holding them for us.”
“I think it falls under ‘too little, too late,’ Heidi,” I reminded her, but she just shrugged.
“I think it falls under, ‘don’t burn bridges.’ He wasn’t always a jerk, remember? I don’t think we should be remembered only for our mistakes. I certainly don’t want to be.”
I flinched and sighed. “You’re right.” I lifted her into the truck despite her arguments that it wasn’t necessary. “Just let me do this, okay?”
She held up her hands in surrender and smiled down at me before pushing my hair away from my face. “I will never blame you for leaving.”
“That’s because I’m never going anywhere,” I assured her. I shut the door before she could argue with me and ran around the truck to the driver’s side.
“I should really just get in on your side and slide over, if you’re going to insist on lifting me into the damn truck,” she griped.
I laughed and agreed. “Especially since you should be a hell of a lot closer to me than you’ve been sitting.” I scooted her closer to me.
She giggled as I snapped the seatbelt across her. “I am a capable adult, and right now, I’m hardly in any pain.”
I didn’t tell her I’d noticed it came from her bending over or sitting in certain positions with her legs drawn up, but I planned to say something if she let me come to another appointment. I was definitely paying attention, waiting for it to happen again, even as I hoped it didn’t.
“Where’s Copper Fork, ma’am?” I asked as I threw the truck into drive.
She gave me directions as I spun out of the gravel parking lot and kicked up a cloud of dust behind us. The drive was short, but I was worried when she said we needed to walk the last half mile to prevent as much damage to the forest as possible.
“I know they drove in, but we’re civilians now. We don’t get to off-road in the park, okay?”
I argued that if she had a back spasm, I might have to cart her out, and she shot me a dirty look. “Then leave me, and I’ll walk myself out.”
I pulled off the access road as far as possible and jumped out, but before I could help Heidi, she’d clambered out the other side and was walking down the road toward the river. The dirt was soft and damp from a recent rain, and fresh tracks made it easy to follow where the parks service guys had gone to release Honey and his mom.
We stepped out of the tree line to a dozen men in khaki park ranger uniforms and a television crew, complete with a van from a local news station. I arched my eyebrows at Heidi, and she muttered something under her breath that sounded like a curse.
The rangers recognized her irritation on sight, and two of the guys made a hasty retreat to behind the transport crates before she could say anything to them. The last two had different uniforms than Heidi and her coworkers had worn, and Heidi introduced them as game wardens. Not rangers, after all, but lawmen who were present to make sure the doe and her fawn were released appropriately.
Both deer had been tagged and now wore collars with monitoring devices. The warden explained that the collars would fall off on their own eventually, when the deer wore through the nylon fabric that held the monitors in place. The kennels were taken out of the bed of the park service’s Chevy and the doors opened. The doe staggered out on her own, shaking her head and looking around her blearily. I glanced at Heidi, and her eyes were glassy with tears.
When the fawn didn’t emerge from its kennel, Heidi stepped closer. She was waved back by a game warden, but the other parks services guys handed her gloves and reminded all of us, and consequently the cameras, that she’d been the one who saved his life in the first place.
Heidi glanced back at me to clarify, but I shook my head vigorously and backed even farther behind the cameras. Most of my peers seemed to like to be in front of the camera as well as behind it. I wasn’t fond of seeing my image. I could never shake how alien it was to see my face the way others did. My aversion didn’t stop me from enjoying the view as she carefully lifted the sleepy little boy out of his kennel and massaged his legs and torso. His tongue flicked out over her wrist, and she giggled.
The local reporter inched closer and brought the camera man in for a close-up that I could tell from my vantage point would highlight her physical attributes as well as her actions. I coughed, and the cameraman glanced back. Something showed in my face, because he stepped back and panned wide. The doe and her fawn wandered off, picking up speed as they put some distance between themselves and the men and vehicles. I was watching them ford the shallow part of the river in front of us, when I noticed something up in a tree on the other side.
It was one of my cameras. We’d been up here, but from a different approach and across the water. I hadn’t recognized the site at first.
Honey started moving around on his own, and Heidi backed away so that the doe could examine him for herself. My heart was racing, and I tried to get Heidi’s attention. If she realized where we were, she could at least try to get some attention for the wildlife in the area. What better way than to point it out when the cameras were there at someone else’s request?
She glanced at me askance and followed my gestures. Recognition flew across her face, and a bright smile shone from her face as she sidestepped the reporter’s questions and started to talk to him about the illegal logging we’d found on the outskirts of the national forest. She suggested that the trees that had been cut down had directly caused the fawn to almost be killed and pointed out the camera in the tree as proof that “we” were doing everything in our power to keep animals like Honey and his mother safe. I mouthed the word “we” and she smiled apologetically and amended her statement.
“I do have to be clear, as a member of the parks service, that it isn’t our parks and recreation people who are taking such unorthodox but vital steps to ensure the safety and well-being of our animal friends here at Ratcliff Park, but concerned private citizens who care enough to sacrifice time, money, and personal safety to help us. For that, we are indebted to them.”
The reporter thanked her for the scoop and promised her the entire interview would be aired as soon as they’d edited it. She practically skipped over to me, her eyes shining. I gave her a quick hug as soon as the camera was off, and we watched the deer disappear into the woods across the river.
“Ungrateful little bastard didn’t even say goodbye,” I complained as we walked back to the truck.
Heidi laughed and reached up to kiss my cheek. “That was kind of fun,” she confessed as we drove back toward town. “I never thought I’d like to be on camera. But it’s not like being in front of people since you don’t see anyone looking back at you.”
“Well, you made for good viewing, too,” I told her, and she scoffed at me.
“You’re supposed to think that about the woman you’re sleeping with. Otherwise, I’d feel sorry for you.”
“There were no less than six perfectly capable, official-looking men who could’ve done that interview. You nailed it, and you did it effortlessly. Boyden would love to know you went on television and shamelessly promoted his activism,” I reminded her.
She was quiet, and I instantly tensed, watching for signs of her pain returning.
“Those cameras are illegal, and I just pointed one out on camera. He should probably come move it before Eli does.”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “I figure he owes me for the pot farm I left alone. But I’ll come back and move it in the morning. Right now, I have another idea.”
She laid her head on my arm and sighed. “I have to go talk to Dr. Seale and make sure he still has a place for me,” she reminded me.
“I think I have another plan for you, so I’d rather you give me a couple of days to get it together to show you. Besides, let’s make sure you’re not sick before you start a new job.”
I watched her face in the rearview mirror as she bit her lip and nodded. I had a plan for her and for us. It sure as hell didn’t include her cancer coming back, and I prayed silently that this time, the universe was listening.