10. Billie

CHAPTER 10

BILLIE

“ B illie! Billie! Billie!” Jens yells my name about a hundred times as he bursts into the cabin, startling me.

I sent him out earlier to find some firewood because I just wanted a bit of quiet space to myself for a change. Fortunately, he’s eager to please, so he bounded away without complaint, leaving me to sit and think in silence, and to catch my breath before he starts being irritating again.

“What is it?” I snap at him, looking up from my computer. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah — no, it’s perfect! I was out finding wood, and trying to find sticks like you showed me, you know, not too flimsy, not too long, not too damp?—”

“Please, Jens,” I sigh. “Get to the point.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Well, anyway, I was by the woodpecker nest, and I heard them singing, and I looked up and I just wanted to get a glimpse of the eggs because I still can’t believe how small they are, but the eggs are gone.”

“Gone?” I gasp, my heart sinking. These red-chested woodpeckers are an endangered species, and we were so excited to find a nest the other day. As far as I know, this is the last island in the world where you can find them, and losing a nest would be a heartbreak.

He shakes his head, looking more like a puppy than ever as his hair flops about in a light-chestnut arc around his head. “No! They’re gone because there are babies! Hatchlings? Pecklings? What do you call baby birds?”

“Who cares?” I say, cutting him off before he can keep rambling. “Let’s go!”

I slam my laptop shut and jump to my feet, scrambling to grab my camera. I sling it around my neck, then leap towards the door, Jens following close behind.

We run out into the woods as fast as we can, only slowing down so we can be quiet as we approach the nest. We’ve been keeping an eye on this nest for a couple of days, but nothing had happened so far.

I’ve been trying not to get my hopes up, but as I told Jens yesterday, if I can get a shot of these baby birds, this will be some of the first photos of these babies ever taken.

Plus, there haven’t been many good photos of the woodpeckers themselves in recent years at all. The privilege of taking any at all has made this trip well worth it.

Quietly, we approach the tree where we found the nest. I have no idea how Jens managed to get close enough to see hatchlings without disturbing anything, but I believe him that he saw something. He’s just as invested in all this as I am now, and despite the fact that he’s definitely keeping secrets from me, I don’t think he’s a liar.

I signal to him to crouch down with me, and without hesitation he obeys. This isn’t the best ever vantage point, but I don’t want to startle any of the animals, and I can pretty much get a clear shot from here.

Getting any pictures of these birds would be a win.

After about half an hour, I can feel him getting restless, so I glare at him in a silent warning not to be a bother. “I got closer,” he whispers.

“I don’t want to stick a camera in there. I don’t want to spook them.”

“But we can’t see anything.”

“Shush,” I hiss. He’s being irritating again, even if he means well.

We lie in the undergrowth utterly still for what feels like forever. Overhead, birds are chirping, though none of them are the ones I want, and beside me, Jens is breathing heavily like he’s trying to hold back from sighing on a loop.

Two more minutes , I say to myself, because my legs are starting to hurt from where we’re lying. Two more minutes and then we’ll give up.

And for a second, it looks like I really am going to be disappointed, but then an adult sticks its beak out of the nest, and we get the breathtaking sight of some incredibly rare baby birds bumbling to the front of the nest and opening their brand-new eyes as they cry out for food.

“Wow,” breathes Jens as the adult flies away, and I have to hold back a tear.

“I can’t believe we saw them,” I whisper. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course.”

If we stayed for a few hours, we could almost definitely watch the parent come back, but I didn’t bring my tripod in my rush to get out here, and I’m happy enough with what I managed to get. Since we’re out now, and I feel like I’m walking on air, I get to my feet and say, “Come on. Let’s find the turtles.”

“The turtles?” His face lights up at the word, and I grin, offering my hand to help him up.

Jens likes the birds, but he loves the turtles.

For just a second too long, our hands linger, but I’m too task-focused to think about that. All that matters now is finding the turtles.

We’ve been scoping out the beach for a few days because I promised Jens we’d try and find turtles, and he’s been disappointed so far that we’ve only caught a glimpse of one turtle crawling back to its hole.

“Are we there yet?” Jens whines as we approach.

“Do you ever stop complaining?”

“No.”

“Trick question — I already knew that.”

He pouts at me, and I shake my head again. I refuse to be drawn in by that look. He knows just as well asI do where the nest is, and I’m not in any mood to argue with him.

When we get there, I point to the ground and wait for him to crouch down on it first. We’ve discovered that the best place to sit and observe the turtles is behind a bush, just next to the hole. Jens is sure that we’re never going to see anything, but I keep telling him to be patient.

Fortunately, like this, I can set my camera up on the ground so I don’t have to hold it like with the birds. As I get it in position, Jens slides behind the bush, waiting expectantly for me to finish. I’m going to film a video on my camera so I can pull out the best snapshots later, so all we need to do right now is lie here quietly and wait.

I double-check that the camera is on, and settle into position next to Jens.

Like this, all still and silent, I can’t help but notice how close we are. Because of the way the bush is aligned, to be properly hidden and have the right angle to see, we have to be pressed up against each other, our shoulders bumping.

I can’t help but focus on the way his breathing is slow and even, and how my own falls in rhythm with it.

I wonder if our hearts are beating the same too.

Nothing happens for a long while, and it feels like time is suspended around us, but then Jens gasps softly, and I strain to see what he’s seeing.

There, in the nest, the mother turtle pokes her head out to survey the scene, then, deciding it’s safe, starts crawling out, followed by three babies. They start to waddle away towards the ocean, all in a line, and Jens gasps again, mesmerized by the scene.

I let my eyes dart towards him for a split second. He’s transfixed, his eyes bright and wide, his mouth ever so slightly open in awe at the natural beauty before him. It’s probably the most real expression I’ve ever seen him make.

Just for a second, I think he might be even more beautiful to watch than the turtles.

Then one of the babies stumbles and all my attention is back on the reason why I came here. It shouldn’t be as funny to watch as it is, but something about the way the baby hasn’t quite mastered its own power of walking has both me and Jens biting our lips, trying not to chuckle.

It’s only when the all turtles have vanished into the sea that I realize my left foot has gone numb. I push myself up to sitting, wincing as I do, and grab my foot to massage it back to the land of the living.

“That was amazing,” Jens gushes, sitting up beside me. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. They’re so tiny! I can’t believe something like that can even exist!”

He keeps rambling as we get up, and he offers his hand to help me to my feet. I take it, his palm warm against mine.

When he lets go, the tiniest part of me almost wishes he wouldn’t.

Jens doesn’t stop talking the whole way back to the cabin, monologuing about how amazing turtles are and how cool it is that people dedicate their lives to conserving creatures like this, and how do turtles even breathe underwater anyway, and who decided to start studying them — but then again we study everything so it shouldn’t really be a surprise, but still, whoever the first person was to find turtles probably found them pretty surprising, and…

Can I really be falling for this stranger? I barely know a thing about him, and yet his energy is making me feel cared for in a way I haven’t for a long time. I don’t remember the last time anyone asked about my work and listened to me talk about it for a week straight. Not just that, but listened and meant it.

I don’t remember the last time I saw someone smile like he does. At the world, and at me.

Maybe it’s just been too long since I was with someone. That, or he’s got some strange power to charm, and I’m falling for it.

But you know when you meet someone and you just know they’re it — they could be a friend or a lover; it doesn’t matter. There are some people with whom, from the very first time you speak, something deep and primal inside your chest connects to something inside theirs, like some threads of a great web have come together and made sense of a part of the universe between you.

And sure, maybe my very first reaction to Jens was irritation, but when he opened his mouth and stopped acting like a complete idiot, well… I guess something in me connected with him.

There’s just such an easiness about him. It’s something simple and honest, and despite everything, it’s real.

I don’t want to call it love — not yet, anyway — but I don’t want to lose him either.

That’s becoming more obvious to me every day. I don’t want there to be a day after this where we never speak again. Part of me wants something more, but I would take anything I can get. If he will be my friend, I will be happy.

That night, he tells me to sleep well and vanishes to his room, and I lie awake for a long time, trying to get that smile out of my head.