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СКАЧАТЬ the bitter coffee that had been sitting in the urn all day long. Coffee stayed brewing at the Black Lake station where they worked side by side on the reintroduction of the whooping crane into South Louisiana.

      “Yeah, and I don’t get it. It’s over sixty miles from the habitat you’d think she would prefer. No other crane has gone that far to the north. There isn’t a lot of marsh in that parish even with the wetlands receding.”

      “It’s been well over a week, Ren. Maybe you better head up and get a visual. Make sure she’s not tangled up in something.”

      “But the bird is moving around in a fairly large perimeter. If you look at this satellite map, you can see the field it’s inhabiting.” Renny dragged a finger across the screen. “Look. Woodlands, bayou and one abandoned rice field.”

      Carrie frowned at the computer. “I agree. It doesn’t make sense, but obviously L9-10 has found a little slice of heaven in St. Martin Parish. Maybe this is a good thing, this adapting and surviving in an atypical area, but we need to check this out in person, and since you live up that way...”

      Renny pushed back from the screen, rolling toward the filing cabinet sitting a few yards away. She grabbed a fresh logbook.

      “Why not just take your computer?”

      Pushing tendrils of hair out of her eyes, Renny shook her head. “Nope. Going old-school. Especially since Stevo lost the tablet in the basin. I’ll take handwritten notes and then add them to our files when I return. If L9-10 decides to stay in her new digs, I’ll have to spend a bit more time close to Bayou Bridge.”

      “Easy for you because you live there.”

      Renny shook her head. “It actually worries me since you’re heading to Virginia in a few weeks.”

      “I’ll call Stevo in Baton Rouge and see if he can send Ruby back to work on field notes and mind the fledglings. The captive cranes seemed to like her. She even got L-3 to take walks with her.”

      Renny nodded. “She’s a good grad assistant. Glad we got her instead of that smarmy ex-fraternity president.”

      As the project manager carrying out the reintroduction of the whooping crane into the wintering grounds of Southwest Louisiana, Renny had tremendous pressure to succeed on her shoulders. The federal and state grants only stretched so far, and after losing one of the released cranes to natural predators earlier that summer, she felt even more driven to prove all was going as planned. Private donors liked to see results—successful results—or they didn’t open their wallets. And at the rate their funds were dwindling, they needed to tread carefully.

      Renny felt something sink in her stomach. Ironically, L9-10 was on Beau Soleil property, which, come to think of it, wasn’t so odd considering the Dufrenes owned lots of land in St. Martin Parish. No problem except there were far too many painful memories attached to anything named Dufrene—even an abandoned rice field.

      Darby.

      His image flashed in her mind. Long legged, brown from the sun, alligator smile. He’d been pure pleasure in a pair of worn jeans. God, she’d loved him so much. Loved the way he touched her, loved the way he made her feel. Wild, alive, made for him.

      Of course that had all been a lie.

      A young girl’s dream of what love should be. And she wasn’t a young girl anymore.

      The real Darby hadn’t looked back. He’d left Louisiana and the girl he supposedly loved behind. Left her behind broken both physically and spiritually. But his dismissal had made her stronger. Had made her who she now was, and she was damn proud of what she’d become.

      She shook herself.

      “Rat run over your grave?” Carrie asked.

      “Yeah, something like that.” Renny pulled off her reading glasses and tried not to think about the rat. Darby was behind her and she’d made peace with herself and what had happened...or rather what had not happened. They’d been eighteen, high school seniors and majorly naive. She’d long ago forgiven both herself and the wild Dufrene boy who’d talked her into loving him.

      Besides, she was too old to worry about those feelings again, even if she would soon have to deal with his mother. And Picou was never easy to deal with. On the surface, Picou Dufrene seemed docile and enlightened in her yoga gear and caftans, but underneath the feathers and fluff was a woman of pure steel. A woman who always got her way.

      Just like her youngest son.

      “You heading out now?” Carrie wrinkled her nose at her coffee cup. “How long has this been sitting in the pot?”

      “Long enough to grow hair on your chest,” Renny said, sliding the journal into the beat-up leather tote she’d bought the day she got her master’s in biology. “And, yeah, I’m going to head up and see what’s going on with L9-10. She was always such a skittish bird. Should have known she’d settle down in some weird location. Damn storm.”

      Carrie set her mug down. “But a good opportunity for us to see how far they’ll stretch the habitat. Go. Call me later and let me know what you find, and then go have yourself a good weekend. As in, go do something fun for a change.”

      “I have fun.” Why was everyone pushing her to go out and lasso a man? Even her mother, who’d formerly harped on the evilness of the opposite sex, had started “suggesting” Renny go somewhere other than church for her social life. Renny was Bev’s only shot at grandchildren. Forget biological clocks. Grandmother’s clocks were wound tighter.

      “If you call sitting in a pirogue watching herons mate fun, then I guess you do. Come on, it’s Friday, Renny. Don’t let your leg keep you from shaking it.”

      “Shaking it?”

      “Your booty, girlfriend.”

      Renny pushed through the door leading to the lobby of the office. “Sure. I’ll think about it.”

      But she wouldn’t. Carrie had poked a soft spot in her psyche—one she tried to ignore. Renny didn’t want to squirrel herself away like some disfigured misanthrope. No, she wanted to be that game gal who didn’t mind the stares, whose zest for living and glowing smile chased away any thoughts of pity. A small part of her wanted to be the girl she used to be...but it was only a small part. The rest of her liked her life as it was. Simple. Driven.

      Safe.

      She dashed that last thought because what was wrong with living safe anyway? Having control was a good thing, considering she’d spent a good deal of time having no control over anything—even her body. Most of her doctors were convinced she’d never walk again. And here she was walking out of her office door.

      Okay, the pitch in her step still bothered her. Vain, stupid and weak, sure, but walking into a bar, aka meat market, wasn’t fun when a girl unintentionally lurched herself at men. So she didn’t go to bars. Or singles mixers. Or on blind dates.

      Renny angled across the gravel parking lot nestled into the grasslands of the Black Lake Conservation Area and slid into her crossover hatchback. The early fall sun shone overhead, spotlighting the small field office invading the natural landscape. The actual lake lay only fifty yards away and she could hear the low hum of a boat on the water as she cranked the engine.

      Going СКАЧАТЬ