Enright Family Collection (40 page)

“Delia, for heaven’s sake!” India gasped at the number of brightly colored shopping bags lined up, waiting to be carried into the house. “Who are all these presents for?”

“Hmmm? Oh, mostly for Corri.” Delia’s eyes sparkled. “I was in New York last week, and I passed F.A.O. Schwarz and I thought, why not? It’s been so many years since I had a little one to buy for. I hope you don’t mind, India, I just couldn’t help myself.”

India laughed, recalling Nick’s descriptions of his mother’s generosity.

“I don’t mind, Delia, and I’m sure that Corri will be overwhelmed.”

“Wonderful!” Delia smiled happily as she removed several more bags from the car and piled them into India’s arms. “Every child should be overwhelmed on Christmas morning at least once in their life.”

The driver, having delivered the packages to the porch, opened the trunk and began taking out more packages. India raised an eyebrow, but before she could say anything, Delia waved a hand and told her, “Those are a few things for Georgia. Randall here is on his way to Baltimore to pick her up and bring her back. I’m afraid she took a bad turn on her ankle this week and is off it for a few days.”

“Wasn’t she performing in the
Nutcracker
this week?”

“Was.
And while I’m sick over her being hurt and disappointed, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want her here with us for the day, India.”

Nick’s Pathfinder pulled into the driveway, Zoey popping out of the passenger-side door before the vehicle had completely stopped.

“Merry Christmas!” Zoey danced across the lawn to hug India. “This is so wonderful of you to share your Christmas with us, India. It’ll be such fun. What time does the bird count start? I’m all ready.”

“You had me fooled.” India laughed, pointing to the fine, soft woolen dress and butter-soft leather boots that Zoey wore.

“Not to worry, I brought stuff to change into.”

“Merry Christmas, India.” Nick, loaded down with packages from his car, bent to catch her lips in passing.

There were holiday hugs all around in the hallway, and the happy chatter seemed to expand on its own to fill every corner of the house. Corri, eager to show off Amber, gave Delia patient instructions on the proper way to hold a kitten and permitted Delia to do so while she opened this newest round of gifts. As the mantel clock chimed two o’clock, India suggested that it was time to leave for the Light for the bird count.

“I want to go.” Corri shot up and ran for her jacket.

“So do I.” Zoey yawned. “All this comfort and joy is doing me in. I need fresh air. I need to get moving.”

“Go change, duchess,” Nick told her. “You have exactly five minutes.”

“I’ll be down in less,” Zoey told him, and India watched, amused, as brother and sister synchronized their watches and counted seconds.

“Go,” Nick told her, and Zoey took off up the stairs while India gave her directions to her room.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” India ducked under the tree and retrieved a present wrapped in gold-foil paper. “This is probably the best time to give this to you.”

She handed the box to Nick and tugged on his sleeve, indicating for him to sit beside her on the sofa.

With a happy grin he accepted the gift and proceeded to tear the wrappings off with all the flair earlier exhibited by Corri.

“India, these are perfect! Wonderful! Thank you, sweetheart.” Clearly pleased with her choice, Nick lifted the new Minolta field glasses to his eyes and adjusted the lenses. He rose and walked to the window, focusing on something in a tree across the street. “These are fabulous, so much better
than the old ones I have at the cabin. They don’t have nearly the range nor the clarity that these have.” He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.

“Four minutes, forty-seven seconds!” Zoey panted as she plopped on the bottom step to tie her sneakers.

“You’re not done, you’re still tying,” Nick observed.

Zoey stuck her tongue out and grabbed her down jacket from a chair in the front hall.

“Do you think we should wait for Georgia? Do you think she would want to go with us?”

“The closest Georgia’s ever gotten to the great outdoors is the L. L. Bean catalog.” Zoey laughed. “I don’t think we have to worry about not waiting for Georgia.”

“Are you dressed warmly enough, sugar?” India asked Corri. “Where’s your scarf? And your gloves?”

“You sound amazingly like your aunt.” Nick chuckled, taking India’s hand as they walked to the Pathfinder.

“I admit I do hear a touch of her every now and then.”

The foursome loaded into Nick’s car and headed out to the cabin, where they would take his rowboat across the bay to the Light.

“We’re lucky it’s not really too cold today,” India told them as they piled into the small boat, she and Nick on the one seat, Zoey and Corri on the other. “One year my dad and Ry and I had to row back in a snowstorm.”

She grabbed her oar and closed her eyes, remembering how immutable the Light had looked, rising from the beach with swirls of snow streaking around it. The water had been choppy and dark and the snow had stung her face sharply as they rowed across the inlet. She had never felt colder than she had on that day, when the wicked storm had hit hours earlier than predicted and brought with it a bad-tempered wind from the north. The frigid waters had sloshed into the boat and numbed their feet and legs. Her father had carried the two frozen children into the sitting room to deposit them in front of the fire, and August had stripped them of their wet clothes and wrapped them in blankets and made them all drink hot lemonade laced with honey. By the time the week had ended, August was nursing both Roberts through pneumonia.

This year a more benevolent breeze blew around the
small craft, chilling their hands without cutting to the bone. India rowed hard against the slightly agitated waters, her eyes on the Light ahead, her heart beating curtly under her sweater. It was hard to come here, to be here on this day, to face the place where her brother had died, when he should be here with them to share the traditions, to count and record the birds, and later to kiss Darla under the mistletoe and help Aunt August to lift the holiday goose from the oven.

As if reading her mind, Corri asked softly, “Indy, do you think Ry knows we’re here?”

“I’m certain of it.” She nodded.

“Good. He can help us find birds.” Corri hopped out of the boat onto the hard sand.

Chapter 24

“Here, Zoey,” India said, as she drew a notebook from the inside pocket of her down jacket and handed it over, “since this is your first time, you can be the official recorder. There’s a pen clipped inside the cover.”

“Great.” Zoey opened the notebook to the first blank page. “What do I do first?”

“Enter the date,” India told her. “Let’s start out on the jetty. That way we’ll have a good view of land and sea.”

“Right.” Zoey took Corri’s hand and marched behind India and Nick. “Look. There’s a bird.” She paused to enter “One seagull.”

“Ah, Zoey, we try to be just a little more specific than that,” an amused India told her.

“Oh. Sure.” Zoey nodded and amended her original entry. “One white seagull.”

Corri giggled and Zoey shot her what was supposed to pass for a dirty look.

“With gray wings,” Zoey added pointedly.

Corri laughed.

“What was wrong with that?” Zoey asked, pretending to be insulted.

“We have to record the bird by name, Zoey,” India told her gently.

“The bird’s
name?
You’re kidding, right? How do you
know what his name is?” Zoey’s brows knit together and she called to the bird. “Excuse me, Edward? Stephen? Jonathan Livingston?”

“Tell her, Corri.” Nick grinned and sat on the nearest rock.

“It’s a laughing gull.”

“A laughing gull?” Zoey frowned. “It doesn’t look all that happy to me.”

“That’s what it’s called.” Corri shrugged. “That’s what kind of gull it is.”

“Okay.” Zoey sighed and sat down beside her brother and bent her head to write. “One laughing gull. Oh, there’s another. We’ll make that
two
laughing gulls. Nothing to this bird-counting stuff, once you get the hang of it. What? India, are you laughing at me?”

“I’m sorry, Zoey, the second one there is a Bonaparte’s gull. It’s smaller and has kind of pinkish legs,” India pointed out.

“And what, dare I ask, is that one?” Zoey pointed to a third gull that flew overhead.

“What do you notice about it that’s different from the other two?” Nick asked from his casual perch.

Zoey watched the bird as it swooped toward the lighthouse.

“Well, it seems to be much bigger.” She cast a wary eye at her brother, who nodded and gestured for her to go on. “I don’t know, Nicky, it’s a seagull, for cripe’s sake.”

Having gone through the same instructional period with her father, India handed Zoey the field glasses and sat down next to Nick.

“Oh, all right. Let’s see.” Zoey raised the glasses to her eyes and went from one bird to the other, adjusting the focus as the distance varied. “Ha!”

She lowered the glasses triumphantly. “That one has a yellow beak!”

“Very good, duchess.” Nick grinned. “You have just correctly identified a herring gull.”

“Yes!” She crowed gleefully and entered the name into the book. “One herring gull. How many kinds of gulls are there, anyway?”

“Lots,” India told her. “Now, write down an old-squaw. A male.”

“Where, Indy?” Corri whispered, and India pointed toward the inlet side of the jetty, where a brown duck with a white head had landed.

“Old-squaw?” Zoey asked.

“Right. One word, hyphenated. It’s a kind of sea duck. A male. And there’s the female. And a harlequin duck. Corri, count the mallards for Zoey so she can write them down.”

Corri used her finger to count the ducks with the green heads. “Five.”

“Do I want to know how many kinds of ducks there might be around here?”

“Lots and lots,” Corri told her solemnly.

“I figured as much. And I’ll bet you know every last mother-loving one of them, don’t you, Miss I-Know-More-Birds-Than-You-Do?” Zoey did her best to appear crabby, but the twinkle in her eyes gave her away and only succeeded in making Corri giggle again.

“India, could I have the glasses for a moment?” Nick asked.

“What do you see?” she asked as she handed them over.

“Looks like a great cormorant.” Nick leaned back, sighting the glasses well into the sky before passing them back to India.

“You’re right, it is.” She nodded.

“Add that, Zoey,” Nick told her. “One great cormorant.”

“Is that with a
c
or a
k?”
Zoey paused, the pen in midair.

“A
c
, silly,” Corri told her.

“Oh, of course. How silly of me. That’s one great cormorant. With a
c.”
Zoey tickled the child. “If you’re so smart, I guess you know what that is over there on top of the porch.”

Corri stood up to look, watching the brown bird as it lifted off in the direction of the marshes.

“It was a rail,” she said. “A
clapper
rail.”

“That’s it, I give up!” Zoey tossed the pen over her shoulder and threw her hands in the air. “Having my nose rubbed in it by my big brother—who has, let’s face it, made it his mission in life to harass his poor little sisters—is one thing. Being shown up by a six-year-old is something else all together.”

“You can learn, Zoey,” Corri told her earnestly. “I can teach you the birds I know.”

“You are entirely too sweet, you know that?” Zoey patted the place next to her on the rock and pointed to the pen where it landed. “You grab that pen and come sit next to me and I’ll try to be a good bird student.”

“Get the pen ready, Zoey,” Nick told her as a flock of birds landed in the trees behind the Light, and it seemed the count began in earnest.

Wrens of various species, songbirds and marsh birds, all gathered closely on the branches. said it confused the hawks if the birds all sat real close.”

“Nick, there’s a hawk,” Corri whispered excitedly. “That’s why they’re all together like that. So he can’t pick out one and eat it. Ry said it confused the hawks if the birds all sat real close.”

“I guess it would be asking too much for me to just write ‘hawk.’” Zoey tapped the pen on the back of the notebook.

“It’s a red-tailed hawk,” India told her. “It just landed on the railing at the top of the Light. Here, take a look.”

Zoey traded the notebook for the glasses. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Oh! Isn’t he handsome? Oh, look at his eyes, they’re so small and black and
beady.
And his beak! It looks so lethal. Oh, Nicky, he’s perfectly
regal.”

Zoey watched the large bird turn this way and that on the railing, his head moving like that of a model in the camera’s lens. When he finally lifted off, it was with a push from the rail and wings outspread to embrace the wind.

“And that’s why people watch the birds.” She smiled. “To see such sights. Are they rare, those, um, red-tailed hawks?”

“No, they’re pretty much staples around here,” India told her.

“Nicky, I want to see something rare.” Zoey turned to him as if he had some control over what flew over the Light that day and what did not. “I thought that’s why we were here. To look for something rare.”

“You
bird-watch
to look for something rare,” India teased her, “you bird-coun to check populations, migrations, document species new to the area.”

“Well, I’m going to see something
rare
before I leave here today,” Zoey told them, “and then I’m going to make a wish on it.”

“When you wish upon a
bird?”
India frowned. “And here, all these years, I thought it was
star.”

“She’s been spending entirely too much time with you,” Zoey grumbled, glaring at her brother.

Nick laughed and returned to the job at hand. Ten kinds of sparrows, two kinds of blackbirds. Juncos. Black-capped chicadees. Cardinals, rufus-sided towhees and yellow-rumped warblers. Jays and crows, grackles and catbirds, nuthatches and even a few bluebirds. But nothing rare. Nothing exotic. Nothing worthy of being wished upon.