Джерри Хилл - Gulf Breeze

The framed prints she loved were leaning against various walls. She would hang them later. She stared at one in particular, that of a Whooping Crane at sunrise, and it reminded her of the one on Pat Ryan's website. Maybe later…someday, she would inquire about buying one of Pat's.

"Hey."

"Jesus!" Carly jumped, hand going to her racing heart.

"Sorry. I need bells, I know," Pat said with a grin.

"How do you do that?"

Pat shrugged. "Lots of practice. But I did knock."

"Where?" Carly asked.

"On the front door."

Carly hit the remote, turning the music down and faced Pat. Today, she wore jeans and Carly thought she looked even more attractive than she did in shorts, if that were possible. She suddenly felt terribly underdressed. Her old sweat pants were baggy and worn and the T-shirt she'd grabbed that morning had see better days.

"I guess I need a doorbell," Carly said.

"Am I interrupting?"

"No, of course not. I'm just unpacking. I printed out the brochure for you earlier," Carly said and she moved past Pat and into her office. When she turned, Pat was standing in the doorway.

"Looks good," Pat said. "The desk and bookcase…beautiful pieces."

"Thanks. My grandfather had them forever in his office. When he retired, he gave them to me."

"Retired? From?"

"He was an attorney. As are my father and both brothers," Carly said.

"Why didn't you follow?"

"I just didn't have the calling, I guess. I always wanted to be a vet. My grandfather was the only one who supported my decision."

"But you're not a vet. Or are you?"

"I was two semesters away and switched to Wildlife Biology. I thought I could make more of a difference that way. But I was young. I didn't realize all the obstacles."

"Politics?"

"Politics and indifference."

"Well, we do tend to take things for granted," Pat said.

"Yes, most people do." Carly stopped before she launched into one of her sermons. "Let's go to the table. Do you have photos?" she asked.

Pat held up the envelope she'd had tucked under her arm. She followed Carly, smiling at the baggy sweats she wore. She looked comfortable. Adorable, she added, surprised at her thoughts.

Pat handed the envelope to Carly and took the printed brochure. She pulled out a chair and began reading, hearing Carly's voice in the words. Concise and to the point, no sugar-coating. She frowned. It needed sugar-coating, she realized.

Carly spread the prints out, her eyes widening. They were great. God, the sunrise over the bay was beautiful. She smiled. Pat's cardinals. She ran her finger over the nest, as if to touch the young. Then she laughed. The male was definitely defending his nest.

"This one's great," she said.

"Yes. I thought that would make a great print. For the Visitor's Center," Pat said. "Aunt Rachel said you wanted some to display there."

"Yes, we do. But this is very good. I mean, this is your profession. You could sell this."

"I shot it on your time," Pat said.

"It's not like I'm paying you. And this doesn't really reflect the preserve. We're all about shorebirds and ducks and marshes," she said.

"Well, obviously, cardinals live here, too."

"You're very good."

"Why, thank you, Dr. Cambridge. I know you had your doubts."

"Not really. I checked out your website."

"Ah, so you did have your doubts."

Carly laughed. "Okay, yes. After our first meeting, I may have had my doubts. I thought maybe Rachel sent you here just to irritate the hell out of me."

"And I thought she was doing it just to irritate me."

"What do you think of the brochure?"

Pat raised her eyes and met green ones for just an instant. "It's…harsh," she said. "It doesn't paint a very pretty picture."

"It's not supposed to. The marshes have been destroyed. The land has been changed to meet man's needs…and cows needs. Of course it's harsh."

Pat shook her head. "If I got this in the mail, I would think all was lost and I would not want to give a dime."

With hands on her hips, Carly glared at Pat. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"This. It's all doom and gloom. I'm depressed reading it. It doesn't give me the warm fuzzies."

"You're supposed to be depressed reading it. That's what makes people give money."

"You're joking? No, I disagree."

"You disagree?"

"Yes. People want to feel like they're giving to a good cause. Something with a bright future. You paint this dismal picture, as if all hope is lost. What good is money going to do to help this place? You've already doomed it."

"As if you know anything about preserving land!"

"I'm just saying, we're contradicting ourselves here. You paint this dismal picture of this place, yet we put pretty pictures in the brochure of birds. What are we telling people?"

"We're telling people this is what it could be."

"Why not tell them the land's been fucked over but you're restoring it and look, beautiful cardinals are already nesting here."

They stared at each other, green eyes locking on blue for an instant, then Carly smiled and Pat did the same.

"Okay. It's fucked. Let's tell them that," Carly said and laughed.

"Carly, the statistics are great, the outlook is great but in between, it sucks."

"Jesus, I hate you, you know that?"

"Yes, I figured."

"Okay. Just, everything's always been black and white with me. I have a hard time glossing over things."

"I think you should focus on what's being done to improve and restore this place instead of what's been done to destroy it. Talk about restoring the marshes, talk about wanting the Whooping Crane to locate here, talk about the hundreds of ducks and shorebirds that can make this their home. That's what people want to give money to."

Carly stared at her, wondering where the indifferent photographer had gone. The woman speaking these words was sounding like an activist.

"You're not quite as uncaring and indifferent as you make yourself out to be, huh?"

Pat smiled. "I guess I never really thought much about it before."

Carly sighed. "Okay. You're probably right. I was on my soapbox when I was writing this." She pulled the brochure from Pat's hands, scanning the words she'd written, seeing them with different eyes. Yes, it was harsh. Yes, it was dismal. God, she hated her.

"Got any beer in this place?" Pat finally asked.

Carly looked up, embarrassed. She was a terrible host. "I'm sorry, yes." She moved to get up but Pat stopped her.

"I'll get it. Want one?"

"Please."

Carly continued reading the brochure, mentally making changes. She noticed the beer Pat put in front of her and she reached for it silently, her eyes still scanning the document.

"You don't mention the Visitor's Center in much detail," Pat said. "That'll be the first thing people see when they come here, the first place they go. Why don't you talk about what you want the Visitor's Center to be," Pat suggested.

"Perhaps I should let you write this. You seem to be the only one with ideas."

"No. I have a hard enough time writing captions for my photos." Then she shuffled through the stack on the table, finding the ones of herons and egrets she'd shot previously. "What about these? Don't you think we could use something like this to show what will be here eventually?"

Carly studied them, each bird captured uniquely in its setting. Yes, they could use them.

"Shorebirds?" she asked.

Pat found some others. Unidentified shorebirds, she liked to call them. They all looked alike to her.

"Greater Yellowlegs. Willet. Marbled Godwit, that's a great shot," Carly said as she named them.

Pat stared, stunned.

"Hopefully, these will all be here. Yes, we can use them. I'll rewrite this. We can include these, along with your cardinals, of course. I'm supposed to meet with the printer Wednesday afternoon. Do you think you can go with me?"