next to two other ancient trucks. Then I see movement behind the closest mesh enclosure. I squint. Whatever it is seems large, fuzzy, and brown-black. “Is that…”
“A black bear?” Grayson puts the truck in park. “Yes. Wynoochee Valley Farms is a rehab center for wounded animals.”
He gets out of the truck, so I do too. Four dogs of different breeds come running up to us just as an older man pops his head out of one of the RVs. At a glance, I guess him to be a Pacific Islander, but his accent is straight up Southern.
“C’mon back!” the man calls to us. “Y’all are just in time.”
Petting the German Shepherd who puts his head under my hand, I follow Grayson toward the RVs. He strides right to the middle RV and ducks inside, like he owns this whole place.
I trail after him up the stairs, emerging into the inside of the bus. The inside has been retrofitted to be a large kitchen. Plastic bowls of every color are spread out across the counter. I raise onto my tiptoes and see that the bowls are full of different stuff. Raw salmon in one, half an uncooked chicken in another. Still others are filled with multicolored berries.
“Rachel, this is Jim,” Grayson says. “He runs this place.”
Jim doesn’t even look up from filling the last bowl. “Nice to meet you. I’m just about done here. You came at just the right time. It’s breakfast.”
Grayson picks up a few bowls and hands them to me. I juggle the bowls, waiting until Jim loads up his arms and carries them out of the RV. Then I follow Grayson uncertainly.
“We feel them according to size,” Jim calls over his shoulder. “The bears first, then the cougar. Then the smaller animals.”
The black bear that I saw when I first arrived is waiting pretty impatiently, standing on its hind legs and sniffing the air.
“I think we will let you feed the bears and the cougar. We want to be able to step inside the pens while we feed the other animals.”
“Okay,” Jim says distractedly. “You’ve been here often enough. You go on ahead.”
“Got it,” Grayson responds. He looks at me with a wink. “I think we’ll do the deer first.”
He heads over to the other side of the clearing, passing foxes playing and several empty-looking pens. A few deer raise their heads when they hear the food bowls rattling. I watch, awestruck, as they timidly come over to the fence.
“The big bowls of greenery are for the deer,” Grayson says, setting the other bowls down. “Do you have any?”
I scan the bowls I’m holding and then shake my head. “Nope.”
“Here.” He thrusts a bowl over the fence. It’s overflowing with clover, lettuce, and greens that look like they just came off of a tree. Setting my other bowls down, I take the one he offers. Then I follow his lead of offering the bowl to the shy deer. A couple are more interested in food than safety, so they venture toward us, sniffing everything first.
I forget to breathe for a second, staring as one of the does nibbles at my bowl. She is really spectacular, her downy coat light brown with a bright white tail. I reach for Grayson automatically. Not because I am scared, but because I’m amazed.
God, I can’t honestly believe that he brought me here.
Soon all of the deer decide that we aren’t dangerous. The small group presses in, trying to get to the food first. One of the deer licks my hand, testing it to see if it can be eaten.
“Oh my god,” I say with a laugh. I sprinkle the rest of the greenery on the ground, where the deer happily graze on it.
I glance at Grayson, who is looking at me with some amusement.
“What?” I ask.
“Happy birthday, Rachel.”
My face warms. I’d genuinely forgotten about that until he said something. “Thanks.”
“You ready to go feed some foxes?” he asks. He tosses the little bit of greenery left in his bowl onto the ground.
“Yep.” We bend down and pick up the rest of the bowls, heading over to the fox enclosure.
As we go, I admit to myself that this is a pretty good distraction from my worries. It doesn’t fix anything, but as far as birthdays go, it’s exactly what I needed.
As I watch Grayson feeding the foxes and being nurturing to the pygmy rabbits, I can’t help but think that he will eventually make a great dad. Not that I will have