He had many versions of that look.
I cherished every one of them.
“Our first Christmas,” I whispered.
“You know I love you, Mabel, yeah?”
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
I knew he did.
But that was the first time he put it out there.
“Yeah,” I said.“You know I love you, Hutch, yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” he said.
“We need to stop this or I’m going to jump you over the kitchen table,” I warned.
His beard twitched, and he went back to his food, muttering, “No matter how hard I work, seems I never top you up with orgasms.”
“This is your lot for the rest of your life,” I said to my own plate.
He chuckled.
He didn’t mind.
Though, I hoped he knew I wasn’t kidding.
We stood in the snow,away from the bed of Hutch’s truck, all of us bundled up against the cold.
Dr.Simmons and Calvin, her vet tech, along with Hutch were carefully dragging the big cage to the end of the opened back gate.
We were all hushed, even Emma, who was standing with me, Abigail, Brett, and Liam as we watched and waited.
Calvin hopped down.
Dr.Simmons got in position.
And Hutch threw open the door to the cage.
We all held our breath as Hunter, the golden eagle Hutch and Dr.Simmons rescued two and a half months ago, hopped to the edge of the cage and immediately took flight.
We all gasped as he flapped his wings and caught wind.
The width of his wingspan wasunbelievable.
Hutch came to stand by me, slinging his arms around my shoulders as we all watched Hunter glide away, and we did it cheering and clapping (except Hutch, one of his arms was busy).
Then Hunter rounded back toward us.
It wasn’t a dive bomb or even a swoop.
But you couldn’t miss it was a thank you.
He did that before he tipped his wings and banked to reverse course, rising, rising, rising high.
And he soared away.
