Free Music of Ghosts by Sallie Bissell Page A

your car from the passenger’s side, didn’t she?”
    Mary nodded, remembering how Jonathan had veered to the right.
    â€œWell, you missed most of her. I only feel a slackness in the ligament that attaches the right wing to the shoulder.”
    â€œCan you fix it?” Mary asked.
    â€œUnfortunately, not. Broken bones we can fix; ligaments we have to leave to Mother Nature.” Stratton lifted the bird from Mary’s grasp and put her in a tall cage that stood next to his refrigerator. Immediately, she climbed on a perch and rousted her feathers.
    Stratton turned to Lily. “Lights, please.”
    Lily turned the light switch, craning her neck to see the owl. “Is she going to be okay?”
    â€œI don’t know, honey.”
    â€œBut you won’t kill her, will you?” Lily asked, her voice quivering.
    â€œNo,” said Stratton. “ Adonuhdo I leave to you Cherokees.”
    They stood there for a moment, watching the owl. She returned their stare with dark, glassy eyes, then she turned her back to them and faced the wall, as if offended by all the attention.
    â€œWhat do we do now?” asked Mary.
    â€œI’ll keep her here, feed her mice, let her mend. If she starts flying again, we’ll release her. If she can’t fly anymore, we’ll make her an ambassador bird, either here or somewhere else.”
    â€œSo that’s it?”
    Stratton nodded. “That’s it. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
    â€œWell.” Mary peeled off the long buckskin gloves. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate this. How much do I owe you?”
    â€œNothing. As a federally licensed rehabilitator, I don’t charge for this.”
    â€œCan I at least make a donation?” Mary took her purse from Lily. “I know we got you up in the middle of the night, after a very long day.”
    â€œIf you’d like to help out the Pisgah Raptor Rescue Center, that would be great. But it’s really not necessary.”
    â€œNo, I want to.” Mary wrote a check for a hundred dollars and handed it to Stratton. “With many, many thanks.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œWill you call us about the owl?” asked Lily.
    â€œSure,” said Stratton. “What’s your number?”
    â€œHere.” Mary dug a business card out of her purse. “You can reach me at my office.”
    Stratton’s expression brightened as he took her card. “Are you kidding me? You’re an attorney? I thought you worked for the mayor.”
    â€œNo,” said Mary. “I’m a lawyer. You need a will or a deed filed, give me a call. I’ll give you the barn owl discount.”
    Abruptly, Stratton started laugh. “This is too good. A lawyer shows up with a barn owl. Don’t tell me you defend people on murder raps?”
    â€œI’ve defended capital charges before,” Mary replied, wondering why Stratton found this so amusing.
    â€œThen I’ll put your card on my refrigerator,” he said, still laughing at some private joke as he put her card on the door of the freezer. “You just never know when you might need a good lawyer.”

Eight
    Three hundred miles to the east, former governor Jackson Carlisle Wilson stood staring out at a hard rain that pelted the windows of the state police airplane hangar. The water dripped in rivulets down the glass, smearing the runway lights into streaks of electric blue.
    â€œAre you okay, Governor?” asked a perky young blonde in a North Carolina Highway Patrol uniform.
    He turned toward the girl. She looked a lot like Lisa—blue eyes, freckled face, a wide smile. Sweet Patootie, he and Marian had called their late-in-life daughter, singing her that old Fats Domino tune.
    â€œWould you like to sit down?” The girl took his elbow. “Can I bring you some coffee, or a Coke?”
    â€œI’d rather stay on my feet.” That much he knew;