The sudden sight of the flamingo caused me to hyperventilate, and I lost consciousness. When I came to, I was lying on the living room sofa. As I tried to get my bearings, the flamingo appeared and inspected my shoes, which someone had removed.

Louis sat in a nearby armchair, his face buried in his hands. Miss Martha left the room and went into the kitchen to make tea as I heard the light whistle of a kettle.

I took a deep breath and let go of any anger or fear I previously experienced. My journalistic instincts kicked in again, and made me aware of Miss Billings’ assignment, that I had attempted to erase from my memory until this moment.

Slowly, I walked over to where Louis sat and rubbed his back.

“Louis, are you okay?” I asked.

Louis jumped up from the chair and hugged me.

“I-I’m okay. It’s you I’m worried about, Jessica! Listen, I’m so sorry about…”

“It’s okay, Louis, really.” Smiling, I said, “I’m not mad anymore.”

“You’re not?”

“No, but I am confused why a wild flamingo is here.”

“It’s a long story, Jessica, but please don’t tell anyone else about our flamingoes.”

“Flamingoes? You mean there’s more of them?”

“Yes,” Louis gulped, “Thirteen of them live in our backyard.”

“How did you keep them hidden like this?”

“There’s a lake behind the neighborhood houses where loud ducks and geese live, and since we have a backyard pond, people assume that some geese and ducks show up. Also, the tall fences and rose bushes block the view.”

“Okay, but why are they here?”

“They’ve been through a lot, and we can’t let others hurt them anymore.”

“Hurt?”

“It’s a tragic case of animal abuse, Jessica.” Miss Martha came in with a tray of chamomile tea.

“Oh no,” I gasped, “what happened to them?”

Miss Martha made an odd honking that got Frutti’s attention.

The flamingo stood by her side as Miss Martha pulled up the wing on her right side, which revealed a bandaged wound underneath.

“The poor thing,” I said, still confused but now concerned.

“Frutti had a bullet wound several weeks ago, but my mom helped her and her friends a great deal,” Louis said as he sipped tea. “That’s why she likes to be with her.”

“I did my best, but it’ll take some time before she completely heals.” Miss Martha sighed.

“Who could’ve done this?” I asked.

“A poacher, that’s who.” Miss Martha frowned. “These flamingoes are on the run from the exotic pet black market.”

“It’s a long story, but we had no choice,” Louis said.

“I’ve got time to spare, and your secret is safe with me.”

Louis nodded to his mother, and she smiled.

“Very well, I’ll tell you.

I sat more comfortably, and Miss Martha began her story.