W ill Stoltz turned the key to the vacant storefront and felt a wave of disappointment. This place was a wreck: dirty and dingy, musty-smelling, in need of fresh paint and a serious airing out. He frowned. It was his own fault for not making the time to get down to Stoney Ridge to see this property before he agreed to the lease. To a year’s lease, paid in advance, wiping out his savings.
He flicked on the light switch and, of course, the lights didn’t go on. He walked through the empty rooms—the front of the store, the two back rooms. No, not “store.” Center . It was the new site of the Stoney Ridge Wild Bird Rescue Center and he was the director. And the veterinarian. And the fundraiser. And the janitor. Basically, he was it.
Naturally, his father thought he was a fool to turn down lucrative offers in established practices to start his own nonprofit center. Why Stoney Ridge, of all places? his father had bellowed. His mother only smiled, in that old soul way she had.
If Will wanted to make a go of a wild bird rescue center in the state of Pennsylvania, he explained to his father, this rural village was the place to be. The Audubon Society had acknowledged the area as a spot where endangered bird populations were rebounding. Lancaster County overflowed with ponds and creeks that made it home to all kinds of fascinating birds, including falcons and eagles.
Stoney Ridge also abounded with Amish, who were sensitive to the welfare of birds and kept eco-friendly farms. Each spring, Amos Lapp of Windmill Farm plowed his fields around nesting bobolinks. Will had a soft spot for the Amish when he stayed on Windmill Farm after being banished from college for a semester. That spring was a turning point for Will to become his own man. Separate from his father but at peace with him. Most of the time, anyway.
Stoney Ridge was also the place where Will’s mother had found healing from a broken body. A broken heart too. His parents’ marriage mended while she stayed at the Inn at Eagle Hill, run by the Schrock family.
And last but not least, Stoney Ridge was where Jackie Colombo lived. Will had the strangest feeling when he first met Jackie, a bounce in his soul; he was certain he’d met a like-minded partner. There was an instant bond between them, a powerful attraction. He couldn’t forget her. He couldn’t find her either.
Jackie was a country vet whom Will had met six months ago at the Inn at Eagle Hill, on a quick trip to visit his mother. They exchanged emails about vet-related topics, and soon the emails became a little more lengthy, a little more personal. In one email, Will broached the idea of starting a wild bird rescue center in Stoney Ridge and Jackie responded immediately, thrilled with the idea. She was the one who gave him the link to this rental property.
But then he plunged headfirst into final exams and didn’t contact Jackie for over a week. When he came up for air and emailed her, she didn’t respond. Graduation came, then state boards for Pennsylvania so he could get licensed. He figured he’d better get the exam out of the way while everything was still fresh in his mind. Assuming he’d passed, and he had, it would give him choices too. He hadn’t made a final decision about starting the bird center, but Stoney Ridge was tugging at him.
After the state board exam, Will emailed Jackie again, but still no reply. She wasn’t on Facebook or LinkedIn, she wasn’t listed in any directory. He called the vet clinic where she worked and tried to leave a message, but the receptionist was the frosty type and wouldn’t give out any information. She only said Jackie no longer worked there. He asked if they could relay a message to Jackie, but the receptionist shut that down. What more could he do? He was starting to sound like a stalker, even to himself. He berated himself for not getting her phone number—but email had been working well for them. He thought they had plenty of time ahead of them to
He flicked on the light switch and, of course, the lights didn’t go on. He walked through the empty rooms—the front of the store, the two back rooms. No, not “store.” Center . It was the new site of the Stoney Ridge Wild Bird Rescue Center and he was the director. And the veterinarian. And the fundraiser. And the janitor. Basically, he was it.
Naturally, his father thought he was a fool to turn down lucrative offers in established practices to start his own nonprofit center. Why Stoney Ridge, of all places? his father had bellowed. His mother only smiled, in that old soul way she had.
If Will wanted to make a go of a wild bird rescue center in the state of Pennsylvania, he explained to his father, this rural village was the place to be. The Audubon Society had acknowledged the area as a spot where endangered bird populations were rebounding. Lancaster County overflowed with ponds and creeks that made it home to all kinds of fascinating birds, including falcons and eagles.
Stoney Ridge also abounded with Amish, who were sensitive to the welfare of birds and kept eco-friendly farms. Each spring, Amos Lapp of Windmill Farm plowed his fields around nesting bobolinks. Will had a soft spot for the Amish when he stayed on Windmill Farm after being banished from college for a semester. That spring was a turning point for Will to become his own man. Separate from his father but at peace with him. Most of the time, anyway.
Stoney Ridge was also the place where Will’s mother had found healing from a broken body. A broken heart too. His parents’ marriage mended while she stayed at the Inn at Eagle Hill, run by the Schrock family.
And last but not least, Stoney Ridge was where Jackie Colombo lived. Will had the strangest feeling when he first met Jackie, a bounce in his soul; he was certain he’d met a like-minded partner. There was an instant bond between them, a powerful attraction. He couldn’t forget her. He couldn’t find her either.
Jackie was a country vet whom Will had met six months ago at the Inn at Eagle Hill, on a quick trip to visit his mother. They exchanged emails about vet-related topics, and soon the emails became a little more lengthy, a little more personal. In one email, Will broached the idea of starting a wild bird rescue center in Stoney Ridge and Jackie responded immediately, thrilled with the idea. She was the one who gave him the link to this rental property.
But then he plunged headfirst into final exams and didn’t contact Jackie for over a week. When he came up for air and emailed her, she didn’t respond. Graduation came, then state boards for Pennsylvania so he could get licensed. He figured he’d better get the exam out of the way while everything was still fresh in his mind. Assuming he’d passed, and he had, it would give him choices too. He hadn’t made a final decision about starting the bird center, but Stoney Ridge was tugging at him.
After the state board exam, Will emailed Jackie again, but still no reply. She wasn’t on Facebook or LinkedIn, she wasn’t listed in any directory. He called the vet clinic where she worked and tried to leave a message, but the receptionist was the frosty type and wouldn’t give out any information. She only said Jackie no longer worked there. He asked if they could relay a message to Jackie, but the receptionist shut that down. What more could he do? He was starting to sound like a stalker, even to himself. He berated himself for not getting her phone number—but email had been working well for them. He thought they had plenty of time ahead of them to
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