Her Face and Her Heart

TJ read the code on his computer screen for the umpteenth time. Focus, TJ. It's not the weekend yet. He exhaled forcefully. Don't worry, she's going to say yes.

He stole a glance at the photo in the owl-shaped frame next to his monitor. The playful strawberry-blonde's jubilant expression entranced him. An owl with a heart-shaped face extended its talons toward the leather gauntlet on her right hand. Its outstretched wings accentuated her petite frame. Dude, focus. Finish work, then we relax.

He returned his attention to the screen. The code all looked clean. Hopefully, his coworkers would appreciate the new interface when they came in on Monday.

"It's all good. I should get a trophy," TJ declared. He saved his work.

TJ took the last swallow of his lemon-lime seltzer and scored a three-point throw into the wastebasket by the door. Then he switched off his monitor and reached for the small black velvet box next to his keyboard. He leaned back in his chair, admiring the sparkling stone. Almost two months' wages. I hope she likes it.

He showed the ring to the photo. "Are you ready for this, Sam?" His brow furrowed. "Am I ready for this? I must be—I bought the ring, didn't I?"

His phone blasted a not-subtle-at-all ah-oo-gah horn. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Typical Raúl. Ten minutes to five. This'd better be good.

"Hi, Raúl—what's up?"

"TJ, if you haven't left yet, don't. If you have left, I need you to come back. The guys in Parts and Service just said all their screens went haywire. You've got to fix that so they can keep taking orders through the weekend."

TJ slumped. "What? That's not possible. I just saved the final version, and they're not even going to see the updated interface until they log out and—"

A low, sinister chuckle interrupted TJ's objection, and the company Controller entered the I.T. department with an evil grin on his face. He tapped his phone screen to disconnect the call.

"You are a sick, twisted man, Raúl," said TJ.

"It's what I do best." Raúl seated himself in the solitary guest chair, set a can of beer on the corner of TJ's desk, and opened one for himself. "So, is this the big weekend at the cabin in the woods?"

"Yeah, finally. Between my slaving away for you here and her crazy nighttime schedule, it's been hard to make time for each other. She'll be working while we're out there, but this is the best we can do. And you know I don't drink, Raúl."

"You thought I was offering that to you? No, after the day I've had, I deserve another. Are you going to ask Lisa to marry you?"

"Lisa? Who's Lisa? My girl's name is Samantha—you've met her."

"Oh, right," Raúl laughed, revealing pronounced crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. He raked his fingers through short-cropped hair. "Lisa is my third ex."

"The one who got mad at you for calling her Sara, right?"

"The same. Here's a piece of free advice for you, son." Raúl took a deep draught. "If you're going to marry this Samantha, don't ever marry anyone with a different name after it falls apart. Less chance of inadvertently calling her the wrong name. Is that the ring?"

TJ handed the velvet box to his boss.

"Nice rock. Have you insured it?" Raúl snapped the box shut and placed it on the desk.

"Why? It's not like it's going to get lost between my pocket and her finger. And—I don't have to worry about name confusion. It's not going to fall apart, Raúl. I'm pretty sure Sam's the one." TJ watched his boss open the second beer. "You just came down here to yank my chain, right? So I can go now?"

Raúl hoisted his lanky frame out of the chair. "Of course not. I came to wish you success this weekend." He waved his beer at TJ. "All the best to you and Lisa."

"Samantha, Raúl," TJ said, shaking his head. He pocketed the jewelry box and slung his backpack over one shoulder. "Are you leaving, too?"

"I'm still printing a report upstairs. You have a good weekend. I'll see you Monday."

* * *

TJ carried Sam's hard-shell equipment case through the French doors onto the cabin's spacious balcony and surveyed the clear sky. "Wow. It looks like God took a mouthful of glitter and then had a sneezing fit. I wonder how the ancients decided which stars qualified for them to play connect the dots with to make constellations."

"No idea. Put that down and open it for me, please." Sam opened her laptop on a stool and adjusted her funny furry red llama beanie.

He flipped up the aluminum lid and took out a night vision camera. "These are cool toys."

"Yeah, they are cool," said Sam. "And expensive. Don't drop that one."

"How expensive?" TJ leaned on the balcony rail and turned the camera toward Sam. "You're not a ginger anymore. You've already gone completely gray."

She scrunched her nose at him in the dark. "Let's just say I wouldn't have gotten them without the grant." She pushed his elbow. "Stop looking at me and watch out there."

"What am I on the lookout for again? Tanks? Paratroopers?"

"You goof. We are here for owls. Tonight I'm specifically looking for Alesha, a barn owl."

"Owl-eesha. Cute. I like it."

"No, I said—" Sam clucked at him and returned her attention to her computer screen. "Goof." She pointed into the woods beyond the broad clearing below. "Anyway, she's my favorite. She's the only owl around here with a pure white underside. The leg band tracker has her flying around somewhere out that way. We're not going to get any video or pictures unless she comes closer to the cabin."

"What did you have to give the Park Service to let you use this place as a research base?" asked TJ.

"It helps to have a dissertation advisor who has connections," said Sam, tapping on her laptop. "There's a good population of barn owls around here. And I've always thought they were cool because they have these white heart-shaped faces. You've heard about people wearing their hearts on their sleeves. Well, barn owls wear theirs on their faces. "

"Interesting."

"That doesn't mean owls are more transparent about their feelings, but the word association reminds me that I think people should be." Sam slipped her arms around TJ's torso.

"That's my cue, isn't it," he said.

"Yes. Put down that camera for a minute and kiss me."

TJ put his arm around her and inclined his head to meet her lips.

"Okay, enough. I can't get completely distracted just yet." Sam turned and typed a note into her computer.

"There's a mouse checking out that birdfeeder at the end of the balcony."

"That's Weasel Bait. He can't get into it. He just hangs out in the gap beneath it to clean up after messy birds. Easy pickings, you know? But Diane said sometimes people leave carrots or crackers for him on the rail here."

"Weasel Bait?"

"That's what they call him." Sam straightened. "Now I'm thinking about munching crackers. And cheese. Are you ready for a snack?"

"Sure." He watched her step into the large loft. She disappeared around the corner toward the kitchenette.

TJ fished the black velvet box out of his pocket and spoke softly to Weasel Bait, who seemed to be watching him. "Okay, buddy, new plan. I think I can interest you in being part of it, because I know where to find some oatmeal cookies." He craned his head to peer the direction Sam had gone and popped the seal on a plastic container, then took out one of the soft, fresh-baked cookies. He broke off a piece and mashed it into the ring. "There, that should get you to come closer," he said.

Chewing the rest of the cookie, he examined the rail. "Mmm, these taste good," he mumbled. He located a crack in the wood near Sam's workstation and gritted his teeth as he pressed in the ring just enough for it to stand. Then he backed away. "When she comes out, you nab your treat, got it?"

The black-eyed field mouse advanced cautiously, sampling the breeze every few steps. TJ watched by the light from the interior and listened for Sam's footsteps.

"That's good, little buddy, just four more feet. That's it, just two more feet. You're almost there—just nine more inches. Just a few more."

The door latch clicked. TJ pivoted to welcome Sam back to the balcony. Her smile flashed to an expression of excitement as a white and brown blur of motion burst across TJ's peripheral vision. He twisted just in time to see an owl close its talons around the mouse—and the ring. It paused to look at each of the two humans before winging silently out into the darkness.

"That was Alesha!" exclaimed Sam. "And she just caught something. This is so cool—it's like my brain grabbed the perfect snapshot as I came out. She was coming straight at me, reaching for—" Sam scanned the length of the balcony rail, all the way to the mouse-proof birdfeeder. "Oh no!" she wailed. "Where's Weasel Bait? TJ, I think she's eating Weasel Bait!"

TJ nodded numbly in stunned silence.

* * *

Sam zoomed the satellite map on her laptop and then put the night vision monocular up to her eye. "Well, Alesha's either in that big tree at the edge of the clearing or in the one behind it, but I can't see her."

"Good thing you've got that ring tracker," muttered TJ. For the last several minutes, he had just been resting his head in his hands, elbows planted firmly on the rail. However, as hard as he stared at the grass below, he was unable to detect a metallic glint of any kind. But that ring is not trackable. I've got to buy a metal detector now. TJ shook his head. Where am I going to find a metal detector at this time of night? On the weekend? Out in the middle of nowhere?

"Was that sarcasm?" asked Sam.

"No, babe. I'm just—tired. It was a long day, and you've been watching that bird do nothing for an hour now."

"That bird happens to be my favorite owl. And I'm starting to worry about her. It doesn't take this long to eat a mouse and fly back to her nest. And it's a band, not a ring."

"Right, band. And I understand she's your favorite owl." TJ sighed and rubbed circles into his temples with his fingertips. "I'm just out of juice. Working six tens for month after month is starting to wear on me. It's past my bedtime."

"I know you're tired. You work hard. Just don't be grumpy with me, okay?"

TJ took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You're right. You're the last person in the world I'd want to be grumpy with."

"Would more caffeine help?"

"Might. I'll go get it so you can keep watching." TJ continued leaning on the rail.

Sam reached over and stroked his head. "I love you, my tired man."

"I'm going. I just don't look like it yet." Moments later, he pushed away from the rail and stumped into the illuminated interior of the cabin.

In the kitchenette, TJ took a couple of mugs from the dish drainer. At least she rinsed them out this time. No, wait—I did that. She left them sitting on the counter next to the sink. My girlfriend is a slob.

The blackness outside transformed the window over the sink into an almost perfect mirror. He caught his bleary-eyed reflection glaring back at him. Don't call my girlfriend a slob.

Well, sometimes she is kind of a slob. And she's always sleeping when I'm awake and always awake when I'm sleeping. How are we going to make this work? He set the mugs on the counter. Maybe losing the ring was a sign from the gods. Maybe we shouldn't be together because we're incompatible. He spooned cocoa powder out of the container. She's a nocturnal slob, and I'm a—a—whatever you call a day creature.

TJ growled and glared at the reflection. Stop calling my girlfriend a slob, jerk. She's smart, and beautiful, and fun—when she's awake—and she's a good kisser.

He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, inadvertently allowing his thoughts to tumble out of his mouth. "Oh yeah, she's a sweet, sweet kisser."

"Who's a sweet, sweet kisser?"

TJ spun to see Sam giving him the stink eye from the corner. "Um—Alesha. She really is. You should get to know her."

Sam snorted and covered her mouth. "What are you doing in here? What's taking you so long?"

"I'm making us drinks. You're supposed to be out there watching barn owls."

"It's been twenty minutes, and all you've done is—" she surveyed the kitchenette. "All you've done is pile cocoa mix on the counter next to an empty mug."

TJ looked down. "I'm experimenting with an alternative method."

"Come on, you." Sam grabbed TJ's arm and guided him to the long leather couch in the sitting area that looked out on the balcony. She tossed a woolly pillow at one end and flapped open a mauve quilt. "Lie down a while. I'll make my own cocoa."

* * *

TJ kept the quilt around his shoulders as he planted his feet on the floor and looked around the dimly lit interior of the cabin. Sam's laptop glowed from atop its stool just inside the French doors that led to the balcony. Her aluminum suitcase of cameras and optical equipment sat on the floor beside it. He tapped his cell phone to reveal the time.

4:45 AM.

Really, brain? You couldn't let me sleep in even one Saturday?

Sam emitted her cute little pish, pish, pish, snore from the shorter couch that formed an ell with his.

And—geez, Raúl—why did you have to jinx me? Did I insure it … TJ grimaced. At least it's not cold enough to snow yet. I hope that wasn't a prophetic dream. I really don't want to trudge through snow hoping a metal detector will beep.

He shrugged off the quilt and leaned low to kiss Sam lightly on the forehead, then he padded into the kitchenette in his stocking feet. He flipped the switch and leaned out through the doorless opening to make sure the overhead didn't cast too much light into the sitting area. Then he smiled and shook his head. Some of the cocoa had been scooped off the counter, but not all of it. The two mugs sat there, one clean, the other with a puddle of brown sludge at the bottom.

TJ again noticed his reflection in the window, which revealed a downturn at the corner of his mouth. So she's a slob. It could be worse. She could be someone who tortures puppies. I know how to do dishes—the real problem is that I'm going to sit here and pine at the woods until she wakes up at noon. He filled his mug with water and put it in the microwave to heat before washing Sam's mug and wetting a paper towel to wipe the counter. He took out his hot water before the timer pinged and stirred his drink with a plastic spoon.

Walking back into the mezzanine sitting area, he held his mug level as he crouched to look at the satellite map on the laptop screen. Apparently, Alesha hadn't moved all night. He arched his back and gazed at the predawn darkness beyond the French doors, noting that the crescent moon did little to illuminate the landscape.

TJ let out a comfortable grunt of recognition as familiar arms circled his chest from behind. This. This is what I need in my life.

"Mmm, you're warm," moaned Sam, tightening her hug and resting her head between his shoulder blades.

"What are you doing up? It's too early for you."

"I smelled cocoa. And I want to be awake when you're awake. We never get any time together."

TJ rotated and wrapped his free arm around the beautiful nocturnal slob that kept him captivated. She melted into him. "When did you go to sleep?"

"Not long after you did. I wanted to be able to enjoy a gorgeous fall day with you, even if I have to get some work done this weekend." She put one hand on his chest and pushed away a little. "Can I have a sip?"

After she handed the mug back to TJ, Sam turned her attention to the laptop. "Why don't you go ahead and turn on the lamp. We're up, right? Unless you want to lie back down."

"When my brain wakes me up at quarter of five I can't go back to sleep." He flipped a switch and squinted at the sudden glare from a pair of floor lamps with parchment shades. "That was a sip? This is empty."

"But you're going to make more, right?" Sam gave him a tightlipped, hopeful smile.

"It's those dang dimples. They get me every time."

"You look like something's bothering you. What is it?"

TJ's smile pulled to one side, and he searched the space above the couches. He sighed. "Sam, I'm crazy about you, but I just don't know how we're going to make this work."

"How—what?" Sam took a step back and stared at him, mouth agape. "Make this work? You mean this—this this? Are you saying you don't love me anymore?"

"No, I absolutely do love you. It's just that our schedules are so convoluted, and you're a night owl while I'm an early riser—"

"Tyler Justin, I'm a night owl who went to bed shortly after you did so I could get up when you did so we could have a day together. We can make this work—unless—" Sam's eyes gleamed and her lower lip quivered. "Unless you don't want it to work," she whispered.

TJ closed the distance between them with a long step and crushed her in his arms. "I do! I just started worrying that maybe we were facing insurmountable difficulties. But you're right—you did get up. I appreciate that."

Sam sniffled against his chest. "Do you want me to quit my program? Because I will. I don't want to be that girl who's married just to her degree and her career. I want you."

"Quit your program?" TJ pushed her to arms' length with his hands firmly on her shoulders. "No, no, no. You're going to be Doctor Bird Lady, world-renowned authority on owls with funny names. Or something like that. Whatever it is you want. If it's important to you, it's important to me."

"I want you."

"You have me."

"See this finger? I'm counting on you to make sure it doesn't stay naked much longer."

TJ's mouth worked silently as he gave several deep nods, then he stammered, "Yeah, about that … I—I—I'm trying to get around a hurdle. Over a hurdle. A small hurdle."

Sam's confused expression softened into amusement. "I didn't mean right now. I just wanted you to be certain that I'm in this as much as you are." She stretched upward to kiss him.

"In that case, I guess I should heat some cocoa for my doctoral candidate."

Her gaze strayed to the laptop screen. "I don't think the satellite program is updating her location. I'm going to reboot while you do that."

* * *

When TJ returned with two steaming mugs, the loft was vacant. "Sam?" He peered over the interior rail just as the door below thumped closed. He set the drinks on an end table and went out onto the balcony. A petite figure strode away from the cabin, and he called down to her. "Sam? Where are you going?"

She looked up through night vision goggles. "Alesha still hasn't moved, so I'm going to find out why. I'm worried that she was attacked by a hawk and maybe that's just her leg band out there."

"Want me to come?"

"No, you might spook her. I'm hoping she'll remember that I handled her as a fledgling."

TJ watched her walk beyond earshot and muttered, "I won't spook her if all that's left is her leg ring. I guess I'll hear from up here if you find an engagement ring on the ground next to it."

He retrieved the night vision monocular from inside the door, glancing at the laptop screen before he ducked back out to monitor Sam's progress. He encouraged her in a low voice, as though she could hear him. "That's it, circle the tree. She might be on the other side. No, not on the ground—look up, look up! And don't expect to find an engagement ring out there if she dropped it. It's already buried in leaves, especially with you scuffing around. I wonder where the nearest metal detector store is. Wait, are you climbing?"

Sam held her arm above her head for several minutes before lowering it slowly to chest height.

"No way! You found your stinkin' owl!"

Sam emerged from the tree line into the broad clearing and gave TJ a little wave. She grinned and pointed at the owl on her towel-wrapped forearm. When she got close enough to speak in normal tones she said, "She was on a low branch! There are some cages downstairs. Can you roll one out to the back porch? The pink one, not the blue one."

"You're giving her a pink cage because she's a girl owl?"

"No," scoffed Sam, "It's the smaller of the two. I think she's sick, and I don't want her to have so much room to flap around in."

He retrieved the cage and Sam slipped Alesha into it. "Now what?" he asked

"Well," she said cheerily, "we get the first aid kit and fix the punctures in my arm, then we have breakfast on the balcony and watch the sunrise together."

"Punctures?"

"It happens. Even with a jacket and a towel. I don't know how I managed to forget my gauntlet at home."

* * *

Predawn light accentuated the silhouettes of the hills to the east. Sam perched on the forward edge of her Adirondack chair and accepted a steaming mug from TJ. "Thank you."

"Is Alesha going to be okay down there?"

"I hope so. She's warmer inside, at least. I gave her some water even though owls usually get all the moisture they need from their prey. And she just ate Weasel Bait, so …" She settled back in her seat. "You know what I can't figure out—what was he doing out in the open during owl-hunting primetime?"

"Yeah, about that mouse …" TJ glanced toward the outline of Sam's furry llama hat. "I have a confession to make."

"About Weasel Bait?" Sam scooted forward. "What did you do?"

"I might've eaten one of your oatmeal cookies and left a piece on the rail where he could find it."

"You murdered Weasel Bait!" Sam hissed playfully.

"Murder? No, I didn't murder him."

She flourished a hand toward the center of the rail. "You enticed him into the danger zone."

"Well, kind of, I guess. But your favorite owl got a warm meal out of it, so there's that, right?"

Sam shook her head slowly in the growing light, gazing at him from beneath her brows. "That excuse is not going to fly with the park rangers who spent months taming him."

"I thought you weren't supposed to feed wildlife," said TJ.

"Yeah, I'm not going to be the one to tell the rule-enforcers that they're breaking the rules. You can, if you want."

"No. But anyway, it's not like you have to tell them. Sometimes mice die. Or go missing. Maybe he was abducted by aliens."

Sam eyeballed him over the rim of her mug before replying, "Right, like they'd buy that."

"It's not like they expected Weasel Bait to live very long." TJ grinned. "They just got his name wrong. They should have called him Owl Bait."

A screech from below interrupted them, and they looked toward the French doors, one of which stood ajar.

"Either she feels a lot worse," said Sam, "or she feels enough better to start being talkative."

"Let's go see."

Downstairs, TJ curled his lip as Sam donned rubber gloves.

"Don't look at me like that," she said. "Owls regurgitate pellets of bones and fur all the time. It's what they do. And I examine the pellets to see what the owls have been eating. It's what I do."

"Still, playing with owl puke is kind of gross."

"Stop it. It's not puke."

"Sure it's not."

Sam aimed the table lamp at the silicon mat and gently pried the pellet apart. "This is part of a mouse jaw. Poor Weasel Bait. Oh, well." She paused and looked closer. "Wow—there's something metallic here!"

"That's unusual, is it?"

"Yes, it's unusual—get out your phone and take some pictures as I do this." Sam continued tugging bits from the pellet. "It's—it's a gold ring. Alesha ingested somebody's ring! Where would she have found a ring?"

TJ cleared his throat. "You want a picture of—of a pukey ring," he faltered.

"Absolutely!" She finished extracting the ring and tapped it lightly on her mat. "It's not just a ring—it's a diamond solitaire! I bet some girl is just frantic and heartbroken that she lost this."

"You got that right," TJ rasped, head hanging. "He was kind of frantic. But you've found it now, so he feels much better."

"He—you?" Sam asked, incredulous. "I don't believe you."

TJ bobbled his head and gestured helplessly. "I have a receipt."

"If you bought this ring, how did you get it inside my owl?" Sam's eyes narrowed. "Actually, how did you get it inside Weasel Bait?"

"What? No! I didn't—I just—it just happened. All I did was put the ring on the rail with some cookie. That way, when you came back out, you'd see the mouse, then the ring, and …" A timid smile fluttered across his face. "Surprised?"

"It just happened," Sam repeated flatly.

"But then your owl showed up out of nowhere!" TJ gestured wildly. "You told me she was too far away for us to get pictures."

Sam put a fist on her thigh. "Wait. Are you blaming me for something? What are you saying?"

"No. I'm not blaming you for anything." He took a deep breath and shot a glance at the owl's heart-shaped face.

Alesha ruffled her feathers and looked him square in the eye as though to say, "Out with it."

"What I came here to say is—crap. I had the perfect speech worked out and now I can't remember any of it." He lowered to one knee beside Sam's chair. "Samantha, will you give me your hand in marriage?"

Sam smiled, eyes sparkling. "Of course I'll give you my hand—you already have my heart. Yes, Tyler Justin, I'll marry you."

"I can rinse the ring off before I put it on your finger, if you want."

She peeled off her left glove. "Just do it. And now I have the best story ever to tell our grandchildren."

The End ...

"We should probably insure that thing right away."

"You didn't insure it?"