When Pigs and Parrots Fly (12 page)

She was probably living in that fantasy world she'd created, but on Friday night she'd felt something different. She'd felt his fear as if it were a tangible thing, both in the way he'd dragged her out of the restaurant to inject her with the Epinephrine and also how he'd held her afterward, like he didn't want to let her go.

She could feel the heat in her face with the memory of Josh whooshing her skirt up to inject her in the thigh, exactly where he was supposed to. Even though he'd done everything at lightning speed, she'd been very aware that he hadn't lifted her skirt high enough to expose her underwear. He hadn't even left much of a bruise.

Even in a panic, Josh remained a perfect gentleman. It made her love him even more. At the same time, it made her head spin.

Friday, she'd thought all was lost, when he'd plainly said it wasn't a real date. But the way he'd held her in the parking lot felt like so much more, as did the way he'd taken her to Dr. Platt's clinic. It had seemed to her like Josh had been on auto-pilot—everything he'd done had no margin for error. Even the way he drove had been calculated for peak efficiency. Not a second had been wasted.

But then, once he had her at home, all the walls came back up, and they were back to the status of reserved friends.

On Sunday she'd gone to church with her girlfriends, as usual. But Josh had joined them, with no hint of shyness displayed at being the only man amongst four single women. He'd been playful, except for the few minutes that Tucker had joined them before his cell phone rang and he had to leave to answer it.

Now today. She was far enough in the journey of life to know that today, if his customer hadn't rung the bell at the check-out, Josh would have kissed her, right there in the middle of the store.

She shook her head without removing her palms from her face.

Josh had never kissed her. She'd dreamed up so many romantic times and places for a first kiss. In the middle of the pet food store, in the aviary section, hadn't been on the list of settings she'd imagined.

Not that he'd followed through and kissed her.

She sighed and let her hands fall onto the desktop.

Not that he ever would.

The buzzer sounded, the signal that her next appointment had arrived and was waiting for her.

Life went on.

Tomorrow, she would go to Josh's house and they'd go through all the supply catalogs.

On Friday, she'd go to his store for an evening meet-and-greet with area pet owners.

Then Saturday was the fair.

As Murray often said, “No pain, no gain.”

Squawk
.

Chapter 9

B
uy three throws, get one for free! Win a prize for the lovely lady!”

Josh felt a poke in the small of his back.

“Keep walking,” Sarah mumbled beside him. “Don't slow down and don't make eye contact.”

He snickered. “You're quite a drill sergeant. No wonder all the dogs and cats listen to you like they do.”

He could almost hear her teeth grinding. Almost. “Most dogs do. Cats, not so much. You, no comment. Keep walking and keep your face forward.”

He felt her fingers wrapping around the loose fabric at the waist of his shirt, and a tug as he started to slow down. “I said to keep moving. We're late.”

“It's not my fault. I had no idea it would be so hard to find a parking spot. I've never seen the lot filled to capacity before, and I come every year.” He couldn't fight the grin. “I'd guess that a good portion of this capacity crowd is here to see you, the Pet Whisperer.”

He felt a hesitation in her step, making him regret his words. “There's Andy. He's not quite finished setting up yet. You go help him, and I'll check on Murray.”

Josh bit his lower lip to keep himself from laughing at Andy's outrageous costume. Judging from the scowl on Andy's face, he knew exactly how he looked and wasn't pleased at the selections made for him.

Beside him, Sarah giggled, which he thought a welcome change from her mood just a minute ago. “Look at Murray. They've set up music for the display, and he's dancing.”

“I don't know if I'd call that dancing.”

Almost in time to the music, Murray skittered along his perch, his head held high, whistling along with the high notes. When he reached the end of his perch, he raised one foot in the air, kicked, lowered his foot, bobbed three times, then skittered to the other end of the perch and repeated the process. Beside Murray's perch was the toy that he'd taken so much time and energy to find for Murray, fluttering in the breeze, ignored.

Sarah giggled. “Dancing or not, he looks like he's having fun, and that's the most important thing. I was so worried that Murray would be in a temper, and no one wants that.”

Josh had to agree. An unhappy Murray would not be a pleasant companion, nor would it do much for the hospital fund-raiser.

He left Sarah so she could tend to Murray while he joined Andy in dragging a wooden treasure chest away from Murray's perch.

“I don't know what they were thinking,” Andy grumbled as he pulled the rope. “I'm not having people toss coins into this thing right underneath Murray. I don't trust children to have good enough aim, especially when the parents think it's so cute to let the young ones throw in coins. They're just as likely to hit Murray as they are to get the coin in the chest.”

Josh completely agreed, but he didn't say so out loud, not wanting to encourage Andy's complaining. Together, they heaved the heavy wooden chest to the other side, away from Murray.

Even when it was where Andy wanted it, Andy continued to grumble. “That music makes me want to pull the plug and throw the DVD player in that trough.”

Josh turned his head. The trough Andy referred to was filled about halfway with water and contained four colored discs floating in it. People were meant to throw coins into the trough, and if their coin stayed on a plate, they won a prize. “I think that's supposed to be an alleged game of skill. It's nearly impossible. I think they oil the plates.”

“Yoh Ho Ho! Scurvy knave! . . .
squawk
. . . Scurvy knave! Gold doubloons . . .
squawk
. . . gold doubloons!”

Josh grinned. “That's pretty good. You've got him sounding like a pirate.”

Andy shook his head. “That wasn't me. Sarah taught him that.”

“Mommy, can I get my picture taken with the pirate bird?”

Josh turned to watch a little boy tugging on his mother's pant leg. He leaned toward Andy. “It looks like you've got your first customer.”

The woman stepped toward Andy at the same time as she raised her purse. “How much for a picture of Billy with your parrot?”

Andy cleared his throat. “Pictures are by donation, ma'am.” He pointed to a poster with suggested prices and stepped back.

By the time the woman decided which package she wanted, four more customers had lined up behind her.

Another fire department volunteer snapped the photos. Since they were busy, Josh volunteered to help people fill out the forms and take the money for the pictures at the same time as children, teens, and adults amused themselves by throwing coins into the wooden chest.

Watching the wild aims, especially from the younger ones, Josh agreed with Andy's decision to move the chest as far away from Murray as possible.

Whenever he had a moment to look up, Josh couldn't help his amusement at Andy's constant miserable expression. Whoever thought of the idea for Andy to be a pirate obviously knew Andy well.

One thing he hadn't expected, and a source of everyone's relief, was that Murray seemed to be enjoying himself. The bird had attracted a band of followers, young and old, who giggled at his expressions and his pirate dancing. Murray enjoyed having an audience, and he didn't seem to mind hopping from his perch to Andy's arm for the duration of time it took to pose for photos. In fact, going back and forth between Andy's arm and the perch seemed to make him that much happier when he got back on the perch to do another dance.

Who could have guessed that the bird was a closet performer?

“Blow me down . . .
squawk
. . . Blow me down!”

The crowd giggled at Murray's antics. Almost as if the bird knew he was a hit, he stretched to his full height and extended his wings to their full span. “No pain, no gain . . .
squawk
. . . No pain, no gain.”

Josh felt his breath catch. Seeing it outside was far different than seeing it inside his store. Here, the bird was completely unencumbered. From wingtip to wingtip, the bird stretched to what looked like nearly five feet.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one shocked by the size of the bird. All the small children backed up and plastered themselves against their mothers' or fathers' legs, and many of the adults backed up as well.

“Murray wants candy . . .
squawk
. . . Murray wants candy,” he hollered, and he bobbed his head in time with the music, keeping his wings fully extended.

A child's voice piped up in the crowd. “I've got candy for him, Mommy.”

“No. Bradley, don't, he doesn't—”

Before the child's mother could finish her sentence, a piece of bright candy arced into the air, landing on the ground a couple of feet in front of Murray's perch.

“Murray wants candy . . .
squawk
. . . Murray wants candy,” the parrot hollered again, and he crouched and jumped off the perch, landing on the ground neatly a few inches in front of the bright treat.

Andy's face tightened, and he stepped forward. “Murray, you can't have that.” As he reached down to pick it up, Murray hopped forward and scooped it up in his beak.

A number of people in the crowd gasped.

Murray bobbed his head and dropped the candy on the ground.

Sarah stepped forward, but Andy raised one hand, signaling her to step back and let him handle it.

Andy walked toward Murray, lowering his arm and inviting Murray to hop up on it. “Come on, Murray, you're scaring everyone. Get back here. We need to take more pictures.”

Instead of taking Andy up on his invitation, Murray lowered his head, picked up the candy and ate it. “Murray wants candy . . .
squawk
. . . Murray wants candy,” he hollered once more, flapping his wings from his position on the ground.

Andy stepped closer. “You're being a pig. Get up here. We need to take more pictures.”

Murray lowered his head and crouched, folding his wings slightly as he looked at Andy and jumped, extending his wings to their full span before starting to flap. He landed on his perch and bobbed his head. “When pigs fly . . .
squawk
. . . When pigs fly,” he hollered. The parrot crouched, and he launched himself toward the crowd. He extended his wings, dipped a bit as he soared, started flapping, and turned.

Two of the children screeched and dropped to the ground, covering their heads with their hands.

The little boy who had thrown the candy pointed up at Murray as the bird gained in height.

“Mommy! Pigs don't fly. Parrots fly. Like Murray.”

Sarah grabbed onto Josh's arm as Murray rose in a blaze of color above the crowd.

“Andy!” she gulped, “How is he doing that? When was the last time you clipped his wings?”

“I've never clipped his wings. I've never needed to.”

In the background, the noise and music of the fair droned on.

“Murray! Come back here!” Andy hollered.

Murray didn't turn around.

Andy dragged his hand over his face. “He's flown around my backyard, but here, he doesn't know where he is. He'll never find his way back home. I've got to go after him.”

Andy hadn't taken more than two steps when his cell phone sang out from his pocket. “Not now,” he grumbled as he fished it out.

His expression tightened as he read the screen before hitting the button to answer it. “What!” he barked. His expression tightened even more as he listened to the caller, while Murray flew farther and farther away.

He flipped the phone shut. “I have to go. There's a fire at the retirement center, and I gave most of my guys the day off to take their families to the fair.” He turned to the firefighter who had been working the camera. “You've got to come with me. Let's see if we can get anyone else.” He turned to Sarah. “You're the only one besides me that Murray listens to. You've got to find him.”

Before Sarah could reply, Andy and the other firefighter ran off toward the parking lot.

Josh's stomach churned as he watched all the color drain from Sarah's face.

“What if I can't find him?” she squeaked. “He's a domesticated animal. He's in the wrong hemisphere to find his natural food source. He's probably never been loose. He'll never find his way back home.”

Josh stiffened. “We'll find him.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the crowd behind them, most of whom were on their cell phones. “By the time we get to my car, half the city will know that Murray's loose. He's colorful, and he's loud. He can't hide. Someone will see him.”