Second Nature

Chapter 22

22 

Gen watched a ragged squadron of rain clouds close in over the roadway and bombard the Land Rover. Fat drops snapped against the windshield and pummeled the top of the car, louder than a drum roll. 

In less than five minutes, the rain shower was over. The car sped on, past cattlelands, magnolias, and pinewoods. She badly wanted to stop and get out and touch the beautiful things she saw. But her destination called to her. Maybe she could get Cade to stop on the way home. 

They rolled past a pecan grove. Tall, dark trunks stood in long, straight rows like soldiers stiffly at attention. A murder of crows attacked their southern flank. The tree-soldiers held their line, unflinching. 

Past the grove, a fenced pasture spread out along the highway, dotted with palms and palmettos and hundreds of head of roaming cattle. Near the fence, a black angus bull waded in a shallow pond that mirrored his massive body. The beast dipped his broad head and drank water from one end, while from the other he peed a splashing stream. Gen laughed, imagining Elton John singing "The Circle of Life." 

She and Cade and Haven were on their way to the Tallahassee Museum of History and Natural Science. Gen had read about the museum and its small zoo in a pamphlet at the Inn. The National Zoo in Washington had loaned the institution a pair of rare Himalayan snow leopards. As soon as she saw the photo of the dappled white cats and read that the species was gravely endangered and on the brink of extinction, she knew in her cells she must touch them.  

Just thinking now about the snow leopards brought forth an intense desire to reach out to them, to harvest their essence. The emotion swelled her heart, becoming an almost erotic hunger, one that a single touch would deeply satisfy. 

* * * 

Cade had to admit he was enjoying strolling around the museum. It was set in its own natural jungle, and nearly all the animals were native to Florida-alligator, panther, black bear, fox, river otters-living in enclosures that replicated their natural habitats. The afternoon was hot and the humidity was thick as olive oil, but it was bearable under the shade of the heavy foliage.  

And then there was Gen.  

For Cade, a big part of the joy of being Haven's father was introducing her to the wonders of nature, to see the world afresh through her young eyes. Now, he was with Haven and Gen, and Gen was the world's oldest kid. She acted as excited as a five-year-old-if anything, more thrilled than Haven, which was saying a lot. What kind of upbringing had Gen endured? It was as if she'd been kept indoors all her life. She delighted in everything. Not just the exhibits. The most ordinary things-a squirrel scampering across tree branches, a robin hopping across a leafy forest floor-sent her into shivers of joy, clapping her hands, laughing with delight. 

Trouble is, she wanted to touch everything. Feel the rough, dark bark on the live oak tree, feel the silky azalea petals, feel the slimy trail the snail left behind. Cade could only shake his head and watch her. She was beautiful to watch. 

He caught himself. Beautiful? How could someone so malformed be beautiful?  

He had to think about that for a moment. He looked at Gen's face. She couldn't stop smiling. Her mouth wrapped around half her face. Conical teeth looked like they could rip flesh in two. 

"Look, Haven!" Gen said. "A snake shed its skin. See?" 

Beautiful. Because when he saw the world through Gen's eyes, the world was far more alive than when he saw it without her. She was more vital than anyone he'd ever met. 

"Gen!" Haven said. "Quick! A walking stick!" 

"Oh! Let me touch it!" Gen ran to Haven as if animated by an electric force. Haven put the walking stick in Gen's outstretched palm. Gen's eyes shone like twin purple suns.