The Rescue
© 2014 by Suzanne Woods Fisher
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
Ebook edition created 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-4490-1
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Contents
Excerpt from BOOK 1 in
The Inn at Eagle Hill
series
W
ill Stoltz turned the key to the vacant storefront and felt a wave of disappointment. This place was a wreck: dirty and dingy, musty-smelling, in need of fresh paint and a serious airing out. He frowned. It was his own fault for not making the time to get down to Stoney Ridge to see this property before he agreed to the lease. To a
year’s
lease, paid in advance, wiping out his savings.
He flicked on the light switch and, of course, the lights didn’t go on. He walked through the empty rooms—the front of the store, the two back rooms. No, not “store.”
Center
. It was the new site of the Stoney Ridge Wild Bird Rescue Center and he was the director. And the veterinarian. And the fundraiser. And the janitor. Basically, he was it.
Naturally, his father thought he was a fool to turn down lucrative offers in established practices to start his own nonprofit center.
Why Stoney Ridge, of all places?
his father had bellowed. His mother only smiled, in that old soul way she had.
If Will wanted to make a go of a wild bird rescue center in the state of Pennsylvania, he explained to his father, this rural village was the place to be. The Audubon Society had acknowledged the area as a spot where endangered bird populations were rebounding. Lancaster County overflowed with ponds and creeks that made it home to all kinds of fascinating birds, including falcons and eagles.
Stoney Ridge also abounded with Amish, who were sensitive to the welfare of birds and kept eco-friendly farms. Each spring, Amos Lapp of Windmill Farm plowed his fields around nesting bobolinks. Will had a soft spot for the Amish when he stayed on Windmill Farm after being banished from college for a semester. That spring was a turning point for Will to become his own man. Separate from his father but at peace with him. Most of the time, anyway.
Stoney Ridge was also the place where Will’s mother had found healing from a broken body. A broken heart too. His parents’ marriage mended while she stayed at the Inn at Eagle Hill, run by the Schrock family.
And last but not least, Stoney Ridge was where Jackie Colombo lived. Will had the strangest feeling when he first met Jackie, a bounce in his soul; he was certain he’d met a like-minded partner. There was an instant bond between them, a powerful attraction. He couldn’t forget her. He couldn’t find her either.
Jackie was a country vet whom Will had met six months ago at the Inn at Eagle Hill, on a quick trip to visit his mother. They exchanged emails about vet-related topics, and soon the emails became a little more lengthy, a little more personal. In one email, Will broached the idea of starting a wild bird rescue center in Stoney Ridge and Jackie responded immediately, thrilled with the idea. She was the one who gave him the link to this rental property.
But then he plunged headfirst into final exams and didn’t contact Jackie for over a week. When he came up for air and emailed her, she didn’t respond. Graduation came, then state boards for Pennsylvania so he could get licensed. He figured he’d better get the exam out of the way while everything was still fresh in his mind. Assuming he’d passed, and he had, it would give him choices too. He hadn’t made a final decision about starting the bird center, but Stoney Ridge was tugging at him.
After the state board exam, Will emailed Jackie again, but still no reply. She wasn’t on Facebook or LinkedIn, she wasn’t listed in any directory. He called the vet clinic where she worked and tried to leave a message, but the receptionist was the frosty type and wouldn’t give out any information. She only said Jackie no longer worked there. He asked if they could relay a message to Jackie, but the receptionist shut that down. What more could he do? He was starting to sound like a stalker, even to himself. He berated himself for not getting her phone number—but email had been working well for them. He thought they had plenty of time ahead of them to get better acquainted.
His mother was the one who encouraged him to pursue his dream to start a wild bird rescue center. “What do you have to lose?” she told him. “If you don’t give this center a try, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. And if you don’t follow up with Jackie, you’ll always wonder if she was the one who got away.”
“Despite how Dad feels about it?” Will asked her. “He’s barely gotten over the fact that I’m a vet and not a surgeon following in his footsteps.” Will’s father cast a rather large shadow.
“Oh, he’ll be upset for a while. But he’s a bird lover at heart.”
And so he packed up, moved to Stoney Ridge with two suitcases, and the key to his new dream.
The clip-clop of a horse and buggy down Main Street jolted Will out of his muse. He stared at it for a while, admiring the high step of the Thoroughbred. He grinned. He’d never seen a buggy horse that
didn’t act like it was having the time of its life. Beyond the horse, Will noticed the Sweet Tooth Bakery. Why, it was practically across the street from the center! Jackie was right—this place was an ideal location. If days were slow, he could head over and get one of those unforgettable cinnamon rolls. Once word spread about his center, he doubted he would ever have a slow day.
He walked through each room again, footsteps echoing. He straightened an old leftover schoolhouse clock hanging cockeyed on the wall and was surprised to see how late it was. Surprised the clock battery was still working too.
He leaned his back against the front door, fighting the feeling that he had made a huge mistake. “Oh, Lord, bless this . . . endeavor.”
Will had a habit of cautious prayer. He believed in God but found he was a little suspicious of him. He was afraid that anything more than a polite acquaintance might result in God changing him in ways he wouldn’t like and asking him to do things he didn’t want to do. That could happen.
Someday, Will might investigate faith a little more thoroughly, but for now, a healthy respect for the Almighty suited him well. And it couldn’t hurt to ask for a little help with this center. He felt scared to death. And thrilled too. Tomorrow, the life of the Stoney Ridge Wild Bird Rescue Center would begin.
He locked the door and drove out to the Inn at Eagle Hill.
As Will pulled into the driveway of the Inn at Eagle Hill and came to a stop, he paused, absorbing the view of the farm. It was November, the sun was setting in the west, and the stark trees that framed the ridgeline along the back of the farmhouse looked like they were practically lit on fire. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. He took a picture on his iPhone and sent it to his mother. Of all people, she would appreciate this setting. She had stayed at the inn last spring and hadn’t seen it at this time of year.
He noticed two Amish boys on the porch, crouched with their bottoms high and their heads against the floorboards, peering through the cracks.
“What are you looking for?” Will said as he walked toward the farmhouse.
The younger boy popped his head up in surprise. He grabbed his black hat and jammed it on. “There’s a bird stuck under the porch.”
The older boy leaned back on his knees, taking Will in, sizing him up. “I know you. Your mother’s stayed here.”
“That’s right. I’m Will Stoltz. My mother is Delia Stoltz.” He put out his hand for a shake. “I don’t remember your names, though.”
“I’m Luke and this is Sammy.” A shuffling sound underneath the deck drew his attention back to the bird. “We’ve been stuffing sunflower seeds down through the cracks. Something’s wrong with the bird.”
Will crouched down to listen. The bird was alive, scuffling through leaves and dirt for the seeds. He peered through a crack and thought it was hopping strangely, as if its legs were glued or tied together. “Is there a way to get under the porch?”
Luke jumped to his feet and hopped off the porch. “You’d have to yank off the trellis and knock down the roses. Mammi Vera would singe our tail feathers if we did it, but she might not be as mad if you were to do it.”
Will grinned. “Maybe we should ask first.”
From the surprised look on Luke’s face, it was obvious such a thought never occurred to him. Will recognized that kind of thinking. “Is your mother around?”
“No. Mom and Mammi Vera are over at Windmill Farm. They’ll be back before dark.”
“Well, then, I’ll have to take responsibility for this rescue. Can you bring me a hammer and a clean rag? And a flashlight. And nails, too, to replace the trellising.”
The boys ran to the barn, Luke galloping ahead of Sammy, as Will looked for a place to pull off the trellis without disturbing the rosebushes that lined the porch’s foundation.
Windmill Farm, Luke had said. Will’s thoughts drifted to the months he had spent there as an intern for the game commissioner. He was sent to babysit a nesting falcon pair and ended up mostly flirting with Sadie Lapp, Amos Lapp’s middle daughter. He had heard that Sadie had married the bumbling schoolteacher, Gideon Smucker. Will shook his head, amazed at Sadie’s choice, though he knew his own nascent romance with Sadie was over before he left Windmill Farm. Too much separated them—Sadie loved being Amish, and while Will admired the Amish, he could never fully embrace
the Plain life. He liked his creature comforts, his many choices, and he believed in higher education. He could never give up his car, Sunday afternoon football games, electricity, air travel. No—fond as he was of Sadie, and as much as he had learned from her about the important things in life that spring, he wasn’t ever going to convert. If he were completely honest, deep down, he knew Sadie had a bond with Gideon that went deeper than the one she had with Will. He knew that from the start.
The two boys came roaring back from the barn, one with a hammer and flashlight, the other with a rag and a fistful of nails, startling Will back to the crisis at hand. With the claw of the hammer, he pulled and yanked the trellis off the porch. He peered underneath and saw the bird, a pigeon, huddled near a support beam. He scooted toward the bird and covered it with the rag, then grabbed it and scooted back out into the light. Will found the bird’s feet were stuck together with black, hard tar that also covered its legs. “How did this happen?”
Luke peered anxiously at the bird’s feet. “Workers were tarring the road yesterday.”
“It must have landed where some warm tar had been put down and then the tar dried,” Will said. “If you have a place where I can work, I’ll try to get the tar off.”
“There’s an empty stall in the barn,” Luke said.
“Good idea. Then it won’t try to fly away.” Though there was tar on some feathers too, so it couldn’t fly. He would need to cut some feathers in the process, but if he would get the tar removed, it had a chance of survival.
The barn door was slightly open—about a foot or two. Will gave it a shove and it rolled open. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Dust particles floated through a beam of hazy sunlight coming in from a window. Soft nickering began from the horses in their stalls as he walked down the main aisle to an empty stall.
“Can you boys bring me dish soap from your kitchen? And a bucket of warm water? And get my medical kit out of the back of my car.”
Will proceeded to gently work until he had removed almost all the tar that glued the bird’s feet together. It was a slow job, too slow for the younger boy, who brought a bucket of warm water, watched for a moment, and then lost interest. But the older boy, Luke, stayed right by Will’s side during the entire process. Will was able to free
its feet and get most of the tar off its feathers. He had to cut a few feathers in the process. “I think that’s all it can handle for now,” he told Luke. “Tomorrow, I’ll work a little more on it.”
“Will the bird be all right?” Luke asked.
“It’ll take some time before it’s ready for release, but I think it’s going to be okay.”
Just then, he heard the sound of a horse and buggy pull up the driveway. “That’ll be my mom and grandmother.” Luke tilted his head. “Why are you here, anyhow?”
