Rachel Goddard 01 - The Heat of the Moon

Maude’s neck with my other hand. She sat on the exam table panting happily, her still bandaged leg stuck out to the side. I was ashamed to think how much I’d dreaded the dog’s visit, and how relieved I’d been when Mrs. Coleman showed up without her daughter.
    ***
    The field next to Dulles Airport was a fast-food carryout for hawks, serving up a steady supply of mice and rabbits to swooping red-shoulders, red-tails and sharp-shins. Luke and I stood in the sun and watched the hunt as departing and incoming planes roared low above us. Damian would arrive any minute with the rehabbed red-shoulder. On the back seat of my car, champagne was chilling in a bucket of ice.
    I hadn’t intended to mention Mother to Luke, but it came out unexpectedly, abruptly. “My mother wants to meet you. She’s started bugging me about it every day.”
    He jammed his hands into his jeans pockets and glanced up at a silver airliner climbing into the sky. He waited until the engines’ thunder subsided before he said, “She wants to check me out, I guess.”
    I shrugged. “Well, she is my mother. I’m not asking you to do it. I’m just saying she’s been after me to invite you. Don’t feel obligated.”
    His gaze flicked over my face. “Why are you so nervous about it? Never mind, you don’t have to answer that. Sure, I’ll come. It’s time I met your mother and sister.”
    A spurt of alarm made me want to protest, argue against his decision. Why had I done this? Inviting him to meet my family was a milestone, a signal of seriousness, and I wasn’t sure I wanted either Luke or Mother to think the relationship had a future. I knew I didn’t want to expose Luke to Mother’s scrutiny. 
    I abandoned the subject with relief when I saw Damian’s beat-up brown van pulling up behind my car.
    “Hey, folks,” Damian called as he hopped out. “Great weather for thermals.” At the back of the van he swung open the door on the cat carrier containing the hawk.
    I peered through the grille. The bird hunched and glared. “Don’t look so mad at us,” I said. “We’re about to give you the thrill of your life.”
    I grabbed my falconer’s gauntlets from the back seat of my car and Luke and I followed Damian into the middle of the field. Damian knelt and extracted the hissing bird from the carrier. He didn’t let go until I had my gloved hands securely around the hawk’s body.
    I bent low to gain momentum, then threw my arms high and tossed the hawk into the air. His wings snapped open and pumped furiously, carrying him up and away from us, back into his own life.
    Laughing with a mixture of joy and envy, I lifted my arms straight out like wings. Fly away. Fly away free .
    “Here you go,” Luke said, handing me the cold champagne bottle.
    I forced the cork and yelped when the foam overflowed onto my hands.

Chapter Eight
    An hour before Luke was due, I put on black jersey crepe slacks and a belted tunic of white silk. I thought I looked pretty good until I saw Michelle in a pink dress of some floaty material, her sheet of golden hair brushing her shoulders.
    I went back to my room and changed into a dress: deep blue, sleeveless, scooped neck, not tight but fitted closely enough to show off my figure. With a swipe of a tissue I removed pink lipstick, then I slicked on a coppery red. I ran my fingers up under my hair to fluff it out. “That ought to do it,” I murmured to my reflection.
    Down in the living room I fussed over the sofa cushions, plumping and rearranging them, and tugged at a vase of white roses and baby’s breath between glances out the window.
    “The flowers are perfect,” Mother said, coming up beside me. “But they won’t be perfect much longer if you don’t let them be.” She smiled and gave my arm a light squeeze just above the wrist.
    “Don’t worry,” Michelle said. She perched on the arm of the couch and grinned at me. “We’ll try not to disgrace you.”
    My answering smile felt feeble on my lips. I reminded myself that Luke was no high school or college kid coming to pick me up for a date. They couldn’t find fault with him. Anybody would like Luke. Anybody. And after overcoming his nervousness at being scrutinized by a shrink, he might get along perfectly well with Mother.
    I hoped he wouldn’t say anything to make her realize he’d been in the house before. 
    His tan Range Rover turned into the driveway.
    “That must be him,” Mother said. “I’ll get the door.”
    I stayed