Chapter six

" Will you keep quiet? " Pat said for the fourth time.

" They're over there."

" I see the goddamn nest, " Pat growled. Not only did she have to show Mrs. Davenport the Curlews, she had to suffer her presence at each and every nest that the old woman had shown her. She tried to ignore her, moving closer for another shot. Ruddy Turnstone. A drab brown bird until they flew, then beautiful wing patterns unfolded and even Pat had to admit that they were pretty. But she was really only taking shots now to appease Mrs. Davenport. She would come out before dawn and photograph the nests early, just at feeding time. And, she would come out alone.

" I think that's enough, " Pat said.

" You didn't get very close."

Pat tapped her 500 mm lens. " Close enough."

" Do you want to see another? "

Mrs. Davenport had shown her seven nests, two on her own property. The thought of spending any more time with the old woman hovering over her shoulder did not appeal to Pat. Not that she wasn't already in her debt, but the entire Sunday was nearly gone.

" I really appreciate you showing me the nests, but I've got enough for now. I think I'll just head back to the island and start developing these."

They crept back along the marsh quietly and Pat tossed her camera bag in the back of the Jeep. She laughed quietly as Mrs. Davenport tied a scarf around her hat. It had blown off earlier in the opened Jeep and they had to turn around to retrieve it after she'd insisted to Pat that it was her lucky birding hat.

She dropped Mrs. Davenport off at her bayside house, just across from Fulton beach. She thanked her again, a bit grudgingly, and headed back to the island. If there was one person in the birding community that she hated being indebted to, it was Mrs. Davenport. She would never live it down.

But she didn't make it to her house. She stopped at The Brown Pelican instead. Beer and pool. Sounded like just the thing she needed to unwind after spending the entire day with Mrs. Davenport.

" Pat."

" Hey, Shorty, " she called. " Where's your partner? "

" Oh, his wife made him go to some birthday party, " he said as she pulled up a barstool next to his.

" And you? Your wife run you out again? " She nodded at Sam as he placed a draft beer in front of her.

" No, she's in Corpus shopping. I'm a free man today."

" Hell, Shorty, you spend more time here than at home anyway."

" And where were you last night? We had a tournament. Me and Davey came in second."

" Yeah? I drove by but it was packed. I went to the Shack instead."

" You should have come in. Had some biker chicks in here. Looked kinda dangerous. Right up your alley."

Pat snorted. She wanted no part of the biker chicks. She'd tried that last year and had woken up in a hotel room with three naked women in bed with her, not recalling what had transpired. She did, however, remember the empty tequila bottle.

" No, no, Shorty. Did that last year. Had a hangover for three days."

Shorty laughed. " I remember. Four of them, right? "

" Three."

" Damn, woman, you have all the fun."

Pat let a ghost of a smile cross her face. Fun? Well, maybe at the time. She couldn't recall. It was after that episode that she started to realize how empty her life really was. Three women in bed with her and she didn't even know their names.

" Fun. Right. That's me, " she said dryly.

" You want to get up a game? " he asked, motioning to the pool table.

" One game, " she nodded. " I've got to go to Corpus. Then an early date over in Rockport tomorrow." An early date with old Dr. Cambridge. She could hardly wait.