Jodi said, "I'm going to be an environmental biologist, remember? My goals haven't changed. Reaching them might take longer, but that's all. They haven't changed—"
"Good for you."
"—just like yours haven't. The difference is I'll be having a baby."
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, nearly frozen from the cold—the Mustang apparently needed a new thermostat and wasn't heating up very well—I picked Jodi up at 7:00 A.M., light barely breaking in the sky, the moon still up.
The overnight temp had dipped to five below.
I wore jeans, a flannel shirt, and my black-leather bomber jacket, but, man, I should have worn long underwear. I remembered my gloves but had forgotten my hat. Stupid!
Jodi popped into the car bundled in a hooded green parka and ski boots—I wore my worn-out Nikes. A cold gust of air followed her into the car. "Did we have to get up so early?" I shivered and tried to smother a frosty yawn.
"That's when eagles feed, early in the morning when the sun comes up."
I took her down to Credit Island in the Mississippi River.
In summer, people jam the island enjoying its softball diamonds and picnic areas. The down-river end of the island is a dense forest of oak, elm, and hickory. A wildlife sanctuary. I turned off River Drive onto the blacktopped, block-long causeway that leads to the island.
Snowplows had gouged a path through the foot-deep snow wide enough for one car. On the island, the plowed lane widened enough for oncoming cars to pass each other. The lane circled the island's perimeter.
"This is a perfect spot," Jodi said. "The lock and dam here in the Mississippi create open water, even if the rest of the river freezes. The eagles can roost in the tall trees on the island and those across the river and feed in the open pools."
"How do you know so much about eagles?"
Jodi said, "I'm going to be an environmental biologist, remember? My goals haven't changed. Reaching them might take longer, but that's all. They haven't changed—"
"Good for you."
"—just like yours haven't. The difference is I'll be having a baby."
I don't know if she meant to zing me or not, but her words felt like a zinger. Still, I decided not to try for a smartass reply. I wanted this adventure to be as pleasant as possible.
The morning turned brilliant with sunshine, the snow dazzling white, clinging everywhere to tree limbs. We weren't the only eagle watchers. A few others had parked their cars along the lane and had trudged through the snow to the edge of the riverbank and stood looking through binoculars, searching the sky.
Jodi and I piled out of my Mustang. I took her mittened hand, helping her a bit, as we crunched through the snow and brush.
The cold nipped my nose and cheeks and ears.
Jodi'd brought her grandfather's binoculars. She unzipped them out of the case and offered them to me. "You use them," I said, still shivering. "I don't even know what to look for."
She peered through the binoculars, adjusted them, and searched the sky for only a minute. "Look!" she shrieked. "Look...in the treetops across the river...those two dark forms... Oh, look...there's a pair in the sky!"
Sure enough, with a naked eye, I spotted two of the birds gliding into view, circling.
"Look!" Jodi repeated and handed me the binoculars.
With the glasses, I zeroed in on an eagle that started a swoop toward the water. I glimpsed the great bird's hooked beak, its white head, and its curved talons as it skimmed the water with a splash and snared a fish. I adjusted the binoculars and followed the bird while it winged to a treetop across the river where it perched.
As it gripped the tree limb with its talons, it also held the fish under its foot. Tearing with its beak, it ripped off chunks of flesh and gobbled them.
I scanned the treetops and noted two birds roosting. I handed the binoculars back to Jodi. "Impressive," I said, and meant it.
We watched the birds for nearly an hour.
They hovered, glided, swooped, and dived. Sometimes they even landed on the ice to devour their catch. A few dozen seagulls also circled in the sky, hoping to scavenge a morsel that an eagle dropped.
Finally Jodi noticed I was shivering like crazy, my nose dripping. "Would you like to go?" she asked.
"I'm an icicle." I wiped my nose on my sleeve, then held my gloved hands over my burning ears and stomped my frozen feet in the snow.
"The wind is always colder off the water. You should've dressed warmer."
I grabbed Jodi's mittened hand again and helped her struggle through the snow on the way back to the car. "I counted six pair of adults and three eaglets," she said.
"How can you tell the difference between the adults and the young ones?"
"The eaglets have brown heads, the adults white heads."
"No kidding?"
"You should develop interests other than football, Michael."
"You making fun of me?" I said it with a smile.
"Hey, Michael. Why do seagulls fly over the sea?"
"Why?" I said, and knew a Jodi-riddle was coming. I hadn't heard one in a long while.
"Because if they flew over the bay, they'd be called bay-gulls."
"That," I said, "is the worst riddle I've ever heard." But I couldn't stop grinning.
Jodi let go of my hand, picked up a mitt full of snow, and packed it into a snowball. I sprinted twenty yards away from her. When she threw the snowball, I ducked, making her miss. She ran for the car. I packed a snowball, and as she reached for the car door, I nailed her in the back with a looping toss. Good shot. I always thought I could've played quarterback.
We scrambled into my Mustang and slammed the doors.
"Eagle watching was fun," Jodi said as we drove away, the car's tires crunching in the snow.
"I'm starved. How about Tommy's Cafe for breakfast?"
"I didn't bring any money."
"My treat."
After I'd spent the morning freezing, Tommy's scrambled eggs, sausage patties, hash browns, toast, jelly and hot coffee smelled and tasted like home cooking. We both wolfed down our food and laughed a lot.
Being with Jodi was easy. Relaxing. Fun. Just like it had been at Ghost Bay. Like we'd known each other for a long time, from a time long ago. She didn't bug me about the baby. Didn't ask me if I was going to marry her. Nothing like that. And I didn't mention I still thought the baby might be born with red hair. Like Luke's.
It was as if we'd negotiated a friendly, unspoken truce.
I could still be her friend and not fall in love with her, couldn't I? I didn't have to get that involved. Even if the baby had black hair. Like mine. And a cleft in its chin. Like me. I still didn't have to fall in love with her. No way.
Coming Monday—Chapter Sixteen: Michael decides to back away from Jodi. He needs to keep things simple.
