HEATHER PUT ONE foot in front of the other making it halfway across the living room when she heard her canaries chirping. The molting season was a time birds were weakened, lethargic and quiet. So it was a special treat to hear the sweet sounds. She changed course and went to stand by the three large cages. Her presence delighted the little birds. They jumped from perch to perch, tilting their heads to look at her with their shiny eyes. Moutarde was deepest in the molt. A few long wing feathers lay at the bottom of his cage. Pavarotti’s feathers were scruffy, as if he’d been in a fight and lost. The tiny pinfeathers on Poseidon’s head made him look like he’d been given a buzz cut. Below the cages feathers littered the floor like snowflakes. The old feathers were being cast off, making room for the new.
“What a shaggy group we are,” she said to them with a gentle smile. She went to get a bag of flaxseeds and went from cage to cage offering each bird a pinch. She sang softly and talked to them. Poseidon came to the end of his perch closest to her and chirped his questioning tone. Delighted to hear his voice, Heather stepped back and called his nickname: “Hey there, Posey. How are you feeling?” After three chirps, the little white bird let loose with a melodic song. It was softer than usual. A brief serenade, but rich with water notes.
Heather heard the song and felt a surge of joy. It was especially rare to hear a canary sing during the molt, and thus all the more special. Oh, little bird, she thought. You have no idea how much I needed to hear your song today.
Inspired, or possibly not to be outdone, Moutarde and Pavarotti came to their top perches and began to sing as well.
Heather closed her eyes and listened to the soft music. The melody soothed her and transported her mind to that place she went when she was tapping into her creativity. She knew this place well. It was where she went when she painted. Where she got her best ideas. She couldn’t force them. She had to mentally let go so her mind was open.
In the beautiful song of her canaries she heard a warning note. Pay attention, the notes told her. Listen! Not to Natalie or her father. Not to Cara. Not even to Bo. For once she had to listen to herself. She’d been asking all the wrong questions. What did everyone else want her to do? This was a turning point in her life. The question she had to ask herself was, what did she want to do? Bo’s words came to mind: Promise me that whatever decision you make, you’ll do it for you.
She looked again at her birds. They were quiet again, sitting on their perches, watching her in all their scraggy, molting adorableness. Waiting for her next move. Heather had been a caged bird for most of her life, her song muted by depression and anxiety. She had things she’d wanted to say, but always she’d said nothing. She never wanted to hurt anyone’s feelings. But in the end, she hurt herself.
“I hear you,” she said to her birds. “It time for me to shed all my insecurities and fears. Let them fall to the ground. It’s time for me to find my voice and fly.”
Heather knew what she had to do. She felt suddenly free, as though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She hurried through the living room and stopped before the table where Cara sat working on papers.
Cara looked up from her papers. Her face was open and curious.
“Cara, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m going to move in with Bo.”
Cara’s face registered surprise. She set down her pen. “But we just agreed—”
“No, we didn’t agree. You told me what you wanted, and I listened.”
Cara seemed to recover slightly. She pushed back her chair and stood up. “But, Heather,” she said in a reasonable tone, “this is a terrible idea. You have to be sensible. Is it money? I know you don’t want to take more money from your father. I applaud that. You don’t have to pay next month’s rent. I’ve got you covered. The last thing you should do is make your decision based on money.”
“My decision has nothing to do with money. It couldn’t be further from that. I’m making my decision based on love.”
Cara sighed. “It’s not that easy, Heather.”
“Why does it have to be hard? Isn’t love supposed to be easy? Cara,” she said, her voice rich with emotion, “I love him. He loves me. What else do I need to know? You told me that one summer isn’t long enough to know. You fell in love with Brett in one summer, and married him. I’m just moving in with Bo!”
Cara turned her head. When she spoke her voice was lowered. “What if it doesn’t work out?”
Heather shrugged. “Then I move on. I still have my talent. My life. You’re the one who told me not to live in fear. I’m listening to you. If I don’t act on my instincts, then I’m afraid to act on what I know is right. And this is right. I feel it in my heart. In my soul. I know what to do.”
Heather paused to look out the window. The palm tree was gently waving its bright green fronds against a brilliant blue sky. The ocean sparkled in the sunlight like diamonds. She turned to Cara again. “I’ve got to go.”
“Now?” Cara asked, once more surprised.
Heather nodded. “I’ve got to tell Bo.”
“You’ve only just got back!”
Heather couldn’t stop the grin that spread from ear to ear. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to make my own decisions. Now I have—and I can’t wait another minute.”
She turned to leave, then spun around to face Cara who stood staring at her, eyes wide.
“Thank you,” Heather said sincerely. “Thank you!” She turned again and flew back to her room to pack.
CARA WAS DUMBFOUNDED. She strode toward Heather’s room with long, purposeful strides. Their conversation was far from over. Cara had to convince Heather to stay at the beach house. She needed her to stay. She couldn’t be left alone. She reached the bedroom door, lifted her fist—but couldn’t bring herself to knock.
Of course she could say none of these things. All these reasons were because of what Cara wanted Heather to do, not what she truly felt was in Heather’s best interest. She brought her palm to her head and pressed hard. Heather was right. She had to make the decision that was best for her. And Cara had to let her.
She turned away and walked back to her chair and slid down onto the wood. She folded her hands on the table and waited.
She didn’t have to wait long. Heather opened the door to her room and emerged in a flurry of motion. Once again she dragged her travel bag behind her. The wheels made a whirring noise as she hastily crossed the floor toward the door.
“Heather, wait,” Cara said, rising and going to meet Heather by the door.
Heather looked at her. She was wearing a glow of happiness. But her eyes were wary.
“Good luck,” Cara said. She saw Heather’s expression shift to relief, and in a rush the two friends hugged.
“Cara, I’ll be back. I just have to go tell Bo,” Heather murmured into her shoulder.
Cara nodded almost imperceptibly, but enough to let Heather know she understood and supported her. “Be happy, sweet friend.”
Heather squeezed her tight. “I will.”
Chapter Twenty-Five