Ollie grinned. "I knew you were smart. I mean, I thought you were crazy at first, but I could still tell you had brains too."
"How could you possibly know that? I've been acting like a complete idiot since the moment we met."
"Nah. You had a big shock when you found out what this place really is, that's all."
Wow, he was absolutely the sweetest man on earth.
"If you don't mind me asking," he said, "how did your travel agent screw things up so bad? She must not have even looked at our website or read what's on the travel sites."
"Ugh, I'm so mad at that woman. She came highly recommended, but I have no idea why she thought this was a birdwatching retreat." I shook my head. "She'll be getting an earful from me, let me tell you."
"I'd love to listen in on that conversation." He leaned over to set a hand on his guitar case. "Mind if I play for you?"
"No, I'd love that. Do you sing too?"
"Sure." He opened the case and brought out his guitar, bracing it on his lap while he tuned it, plucking each string and adjusting the little knob doohickeys. "I do modern songs too, but my favorites are the classics. Stuff from, like, the fifties and sixties. Some even earlier."
"That sounds wonderful. I'd love to hear it."
He started to play a tune I recognized, but only when he began to sing did I realize it was "Bridge Over Troubled Water." He sang beautifully, with a natural voice that didn't seem like an affectation or an attempt to sound like popular singers. I found myself smiling and swaying to the gentle rhythm of the song.
"You can sing along," Ollie said, while performing an instrumental break in the song.
"Oh, I couldn't. My singing is awful."
"I doubt that. Maybe another time."
He started singing again, taking the song to its climax, then he strummed one last chord. "How about a little birdwatching now?"
"Will you sing for me more later?"
"Sure." He returned the guitar to its case, stood, and offered me his hand. "I know a great spot for birds."
I took his hand, letting him help me up.
He grabbed a pair of binoculars out of the picnic basket while still holding my hand, then led me down to the lake's shore. I heard a strange, fluttery call, and Ollie told me it was a loon. He handed me the binoculars so I could get a closer view of the birds that had just landed in the lake, further away from the shore.
"Look!" he said, pointing at the sky. "It's a bald eagle."
I swung the binoculars up, getting a fantastic view of the majestic bird as it soared over our heads. Jumping up and down, I pointed at the eagle. "It's so beautiful! I've never seen one before!"
Ollie grinned and laughed, watching me jump around and squeal like a goofball. He didn't look annoyed by my behavior. He seemed to think it was entertaining.
Something buzzed past me from behind, sounding like the Godzilla of bees. Before I could react, the thing buzzed right past my face, inches away from my nose. I shrieked and ducked, spinning around to find the monster that seemed bent on having me for lunch. My heart thudded. I didn't dare move, what with adrenaline burning through my veins.
A tiny bird hovered above my head, its wings beating so fast they became a blur.
It dived toward me.
"Help!" I shrieked, flinging myself at Ollie. "It's trying to kill me!"
Ollie caught me right as I tripped over my own stupid feet.
I wound up clinging to his body with my face in his crotch.
And I shrieked again. Honestly, I couldn't help it. A dive-bombing bird? Nobody warned me about that.
Ollie stared down at me, his mouth open, like he had no frigging idea what the crazy girl attached to his body was doing.
I shoved myself away from him, landing on my ass with elbows sunk into the sand and my legs over my head.
He kept staring at me for a couple more seconds, then he rushed forward to drag me up off the ground. While he brushed sand off my shoulders, he asked, "Are you okay? What happened?"
"Well---I---" I flapped my arms, rotating them like an insane windmill. "That bird tried to kill me."
The sweet man tried not to laugh, but he wound up sputtering and snorting. The spittle flying from his lips sprayed my face.
"Oh crap," he said, wiping my face with the hem of his shirt. "Mara, I'm so sorry. Didn't mean to laugh. I know you were scared by that bird, but it was just a hummer. He must've thought you're cute and came in for a closer look."
He smiled when he said that and tapped my chin.
"I'm the one who needs to apologize," I said. "Don't know why I keep freaking out. I mean, I've never seen a bird like that one before, but that's no excuse."
"You don't need to apologize. I get that all this nature stuff is new for you."
"What was that bird? I've never heard of a hummer. Is that some bizarre species of bomber birds only found in Oregon?"
"No, it's a hummingbird." He pushed my hair off my shoulders and combed his fingers through it, cleaning the sand out. "Hummers like to dive bomb people, but they're not dangerous. That one looked like a black-chinned hummingbird. You can tell by its black head and purple throat."
"I didn't get a good look at it." Because I'd been too busy screaming and hurling my body at him. When I
