him. “You know, there were people who said we should have put both cubs down. That it was cruel to keep them alive if they’d be in captivity their whole life.”
He didn’t know what to say, and doubted she’d be happy with his answer, regardless of whether he agreed with her or not. She looked so lost, so melancholy. He was half-afraid if he said the wrong thing, she’d turn and run. She seemed to be looking at or for something that wasn’t there. He had a sudden strong urge to stand behind her, wrap his arms around her and say, “It’ll be okay.”
He’d done that many times for Bridget. And more often than not, the lost expression evaporated into joy.
What would Katie Vincent look like with a joyful heart?
Instead of moving toward her, however, he said, “Aquila could be content here. We started work on this enclosure two years ago, adding to it whenever we had the money. Finally, when it was finished, we went searching for the right cat to fill it.”
“Did you know exactly what you were searching for?”
“No, I just knew I wanted another big cat, a bit younger than Terrance the Terrible. We have the mountain lions and the cougar, but they’re fairly common in Arizona. I wanted a jaguar. Arizona is the last state with any left in the wild. But I thought I could settle for a big cat that was a bit more exotic, a bit more comfortable with humans and one that came with a history. A big draw for the park. Aquila fit that bill exactly, or he would if...”
She shuddered and he knew he’d hit a hot spot.
“If you take an Arizona jaguar out of the wild and bring him here,” Katie said, “soon there will be none left in the wild.”
“I agree, which is why Aquila was perfect,” he said easily, realizing that while she claimed not to have had contact with wild animals for the last decade, her heart and opinion had remained sympathetic to their plight.
He continued, watching her eyes while he spoke, hoping to convince her that they were on the same side, at least when it came to acquiring animals.
“We rehabilitate here. The animals we keep are ones, like Aquila, who have been in captivity for so long they wouldn’t survive in the wild. Plus, I don’t have a jaguar, and even if one became available I couldn’t...”
When he didn’t continue, she said, “Couldn’t?”
But he wasn’t ready to admit that even should a jaguar become available, they couldn’t afford it. So he changed the subject to Terrance, hoping to distract her from a question he didn’t want to answer.
“Like Aquila, Terrance is also a big draw and is comfortable with humans, but he was raised as if he were Ruth’s child. He still wants to sit on her lap. The kids love him. My sister loved him. He’s had the wild trained right out of him. He’s leash-trained.”
Katie shook her head, every expression indicating she wasn’t impressed with Terrance’s rearing. A little surprising since usually only the hard-core animal activists were distressed over Terrance.
But her words were curt. “Don’t ever think that Terrance is anything but wild. You can take the cat out of the jungle, but you can’t take the jungle out of the cat. Doesn’t matter the age. Surely Jasper told you this.”
“Jasper has, over and over. But when you meet Terrance, you’ll see what I mean.”
Katie frowned, seemed to shake herself out of whatever argument she’d been about to make and said, “I doubt that. At the same time, I have to admit that Aquila and the others have a good home here, so I’m glad you took an interest in my father’s animals. You’re like him. He was always looking for an animal’s potential, always looking for something to sell. Sometimes it got in the way of common sense, though.”
A family joined them and a stroller separated Luke from Katie. As the dad read aloud the plaque in front of Aquila’s enclosure, the family crowded close, hoping to see the cat move.
Aquila was as still as Katie, though, both lost in their own thoughts.
“I wish I could have met your dad,” Luke said.
“You probably would have got along well.” She didn’t look at him when she said the words, and for some reason it bothered him.
Even though he’d never met her father, Luke doubted they were much alike outside of their profession. He’d never have sent his children off to be raised by a relative. He, like every employee here, loved the animals, but not over family.
A missed softball game or romantic dinner was one thing. A missed childhood another.
“I—” Before he could tell her how unfair the comparison was, yet another family joined them and an additional stroller separated Luke from Katie.
The two parents hoisted their little ones up for a better look, encouraging the kids to find the panther. The little girl located Aquila first, although the little boy tried to take credit, too.
“Pretty,” the little boy said.
The father of the group dutifully read the plaque in front of the exhibit: Aquila is from Africa. Although called a black panther, he is really a black leopard. He is fifteen years old and can dance to “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”
Luke hadn’t had time to come up with decent copy for Aquila’s inscription, and Adam hadn’t yet painted him on the wall in front of the animal park. It didn’t matter. Aquila was a draw. Even now the family lingered. Aquila was doing his part, without a single movement, to help keep Bridget’s AZ Animal Adventure going.
If only they could keep him alive.
As a privately owned animal park, Bridget’s received no state money, so Luke was constantly double-checking the figures. They earned money from admissions and concessions, but the lifeblood of Bridget’s was donations given by families, corporations and nonprofit groups.
He needed to keep the investors happy, show them that Bridget’s was a well-run, growing operation. He had to support the animals and the people who worked for him.
Her father had had to support the animals, too, but the fact that they’d lived in cages said it all. They were half of the equation. The other half being Bob himself and the attention he craved.
Jasper had been his only long-term employee.
When the family closest to him and Katie moved on, Luke sat beside her on the bench. “I went online and found some YouTube videos of your dad.”
She didn’t act surprised. “There’s probably plenty. His second-favorite place was in front of a camera.”
“What was his first?”
“In front of a live audience.”
Luke believed her. In the clips, he’d watched Bob Vincent brighten under the spotlight and at the attention of the late-night hosts. He hadn’t seem to notice that the late-night hosts were more focused on Ollie, the orangutan, who actually served tea; George, the brown bear, who weighed in at six hundred pounds and would join Ollie at the table—not to have tea but to hold hands! As for Candy, the spider monkey, she gathered up the teacups and arranged them on the talk show hosts’ desks.
Oh,
