A Gentle Rain by Deborah F. Smith Page B

dozing atop the bed's headboard, hopped down and snuggled his head to mine. He made soothing little noises and gnawed at my nose with his beak. His tongue, stubby and dry, like sunbaked rubber, dabbed my skin. I stroked his feathers and wished macaws enjoyed a good hugging.
    I had found my birth parents and their protective mentor. He seemed a fine man, albeit brusque and sardonic. Their lives with him appeared stable, productive and content. Thanks to quirky coincidence, I had won the opportunity to be part of their lives.
    I had already helped them capture a pair of horse rustlers.
    Damned, thievin' varmints.
    And I might have found El Diablo.
    My heart raced at the possibility. I was a senior at Yale when El Diablo Americano, a bad-guy young rudo in the classic villain-hero melodrama of Mexican wrestling, died in a show-stopping grudge match broadcast live on networks across Mexico, Central and South America.
    I cried my eyes out. He could have been redeemed. At least in my view.
    If Ben Thocco were El Diablo Americano, finding him here, a full decade after his untimely death, would be a coup of weird fate and destiny and girlish fantasy.
    Yes, I felt alone in the strange new land of my beginnings.
    And yet strangely at home.
     

Chapter 6
    Ben
    Talk about your force of nature. The last time a hurricane crossed over north Florida, we saw it comin' from days away. Summer forest fires? You spot `em miles before they reach your woods. Hell, even a tornado gives folks some warning.
    But not Karen.
    She took over my kitchen the first morning. That dawn I walked out of Joey's room, where I slept on a recliner to be close by when he needed help with his pills, his oxygen or getting to the bathroom, and there was Karen, runnin' my army like Patton kicki i' ass in Europe. Miriam, Lula and Lily went scurrying in every direction, following Karen's orders.
    "We're `organizing a system,"' Lily quoted. "That's what Karen says."
    "Stay out of our way, Ben," Miriam warned. "It's dog-eat-dog in here."
    Rhubarb hid under the table.
    "Coming through," said Lula, hurrying in from the side porch. She carried an old, blue-enamel coffee pot I'd been meaning to throw away because the spout was rusted out and the lid was gone-well, notgone, but nailed over a squirrel hole in the living room door. Now the coffee pot was full of yellow jonquils and a branch off a swamp azalea, covered in bright orange blooms. Lula set it in the middle of the kitchen table.
    "Is this an episode of HGTV?" I demanded. "I didn't order no decorator makeover."
    "I thought I'd make myselfuseful," Karen said. She straightened from the oven of my ancient gas stove. She held out a muffin pan. The aroma of banana muffins hit me and I forgot about everything else for a second.
    "Homemade muffins, from scratch," Miriam informed me, arranging knives and forks around the aging stoneware plates Lily was setting everso-slow on the picnic table. "Karen took your rotten bananas and turned `em into gold."
    "I had a good use for those rotten bananas," I said. "I just hadn't thought of it, yet."
    "Oh?" Karen asked, arching a red brow. "Raising nematodes? Cultivating a bacterial plantation?"
    She looked like an irate human strawberry. But I mean that in a good way. She was pink from the heat and wore a pink towel tucked into her hiking shorts. The towel was only pink because of the time when rust from the water heater got into the washing machine, but never mind. Her t-shirt was some clay-red earth color, and had a Wildlife Federation logo on it. I liked the way the shirt fit. She had some good muffins. "In a wellplanned ecological system, nothing goes to waste," she told me, stacking the muffins on a platter. "Would you like coffee?"
    "Only if it don't come with a lecture."
    "Agreed." She handed me a steaming mug. "How about frittatas as the main protein dish? You have enough eggs-excellent, fresh, homegrown, free-range eggs-"
    "My hens are so happy they live up to your