“Twenty miles,” she said. “But if we make another detour, we definitely won't make the festival in time.”
Ruby looked at her, those blue eyes wide and pleading. She held up the bird, a small sparrow, trembling in her palms. Itswing hung at an unnatural angle, and even from where she sat, Celeste could see it was badly hurt.
“Pretty please?”
Chapter Ten
Ruby
The veterinary office smelled like antiseptic and wet dog, with an underlying note of fear-sweat from anxious pets. Ruby sat in one of the plastic chairs, the injured sparrow now in the capable hands of a veterinary technician who'd whisked it away with professional efficiency. Her leg bounced nervously, heel tapping an erratic rhythm against the linoleum floor that she couldn't seem to stop.
She hated this part: the waiting, the not knowing. The bird had looked so fragile in her hands, its tiny body trembling and its wing hanging at that terrible angle. Ruby had seen enough injured animals to know that sometimes love and good intentions weren't enough.
Sometimes they died anyway.
Celeste sat beside her, looking down at her phone with an air of acceptance. Like she'd finally surrendered to the chaos of this trip and was making peace with it.
“At this rate we’re never making it to New Orleans.”
She didn't sound upset about it. In fact, she seemed more amused than resigned.
“Technically, we're on the outskirts of Tennessee now.” Ruby leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, trying to channel her nervous energy into something productive. “If we keep moving after this, we can probably make it to Memphisby tonight. And if there are no further interruptions, we might actually arrive in New Orleans tomorrow.”
“Ifthere are no further interruptions.” Celeste repeated with an arched eyebrow, but there was no hostility in her expression. “Given your predilection for getting carried away with one thing or another, that seems unlikely.”
Ruby grinned despite her anxiety. “I prefer being considered a free spirit instead of 'easily distracted.”
“Those mean the same thing.”
“No, one sounds whimsical and the other sounds like I have ADHD.” Ruby stretched her legs out, trying to ease the restless energy coursing through her. “I love exploring and seeing what's out there. You can't do that if you're glued to a schedule.”
“You can if you plan exploration time into the schedule.”
“That defeats the entire purpose of spontaneity.”
“Does it though?”
Ruby opened her mouth to respond, to continue this familiar banter that had become comfortable as they spent more time together. But before she could, a golden retriever bounded into the waiting room, its owner—a harried-looking man in his forties—struggling with the leash.
The dog made a beeline for Ruby, tail wagging with such enthusiasm its whole body wiggled. Ruby laughed, the sound ringing through the space, and reached out to scratch behind its ears. The dog leaned into her touch, vibrating with joy.
“See?” she said to Celeste. “Dogs understand me. We're kindred spirits.”
“You compared yourself to a golden retriever yesterday.”
“And I stand by it.” Ruby gave the dog one final pat before its owner managed to wrestle it toward the examination rooms, apologizing profusely. “I love animals. Always have. I do rescue work when I'm in one place long enough. Wildlife rehabilitation, mostly. Birds and sometimes small mammals.”
It was one of the few constants in her moving life. No matter where she landed, she always found the local wildlife rescue and volunteered. It was the one thing that made her feel useful, like she was contributing something meaningful even when she was running from everything else.
A look of understanding crossed Celeste’s face. “That's why you couldn't leave the sparrow.”
“Sparkle.”
“You named it?”
“Her. And yes. She needed a name.” Ruby's leg started bouncing again, the anxiety creeping back now that the dog was gone. “I couldn't just leave her there on the road. That wing was clearly broken and without intervention, she'd be dead by nightfall or probably eaten by something before then.”
The image made her stomach turn. She'd seen too many animals die unnecessarily, victims of human carelessness or simple bad luck. Everyone she saved felt like a small victory against the cruelty of an indifferent universe.
