Chapter 7

Bette rubbed her eyes wearily, smiling at the rough sketch she’d done.  It was just an idea, put down on paper, but it was something that was indescribably moving to her.  Looking at the time, she set down her pencil, moving to the patio door.  It was almost light outside.

After a moment,

Shane stepped outside, shutting the door softly behind her.  She walked barefoot onto the grass wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt.  She stretched her arms overhead and yawned.  Peering around the yard, she smiled sleepily, shut her eyes and twirled around in a circle, humming tunelessly.  First it was just one or two, but gradually, a multitude of birds answered her wordless call.  One very friendly sparrow perched on her shoulder, just under her left ear, clinging to the neckline of her shirt.  She turned and looked at him, her eyes almost crossed.  He chirped at her, flapping his wings occasionally to maintain his balance.  She murmured something in reply, smiling still.

From Bette’s viewpoint, it looked like Shane was talking to a bird—and he seemed to understand her as well as she understood him.  The bird rubbed his slight head against Shane’s cheek in farewell and took off from his perch.

Shane flung her arms out and spun around.  The birds took off in a cacophony of wings and chirps.  As she turned, Bette got a glimpse of her eyes.  Like the previous day, they were limned in an emerald green light until she blinked, and then they were normal again.  She went back inside, and Bette gasped, remembering to breathe again.  Shaking her head, she went to the blank canvas sitting on its easel.  Choosing a few tubes of paint, she smeared them onto her palette, picked up a brush and started applying color to canvas.

Shane went to the kitchen, made coffee and picked up the phone.

“Hey Maeve, you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes Shane, if you’re not busy, stop by sometime today.”

“OK.  There’s some stuff I wanted to talk to you about, too.”  She paused.  “So, you know…you could’ve just phoned me,” Shane said with a smile.

“I know,” Maeve replied. “But I thought sending a winged messenger would be a sure way of getting your attention.  Not to mention, that for me, telephones are still a new invention.”