by Sandi Ward
Dana and I stand there as Sam leaves the gym with the cops. I look over the graffiti again. I suppose it can just be painted over. It’s not the end of the world.
“What just happened?” Dana whispers to me.
“I’m not sure.” I’m still wondering how to wash off or cover the spray paint when I feel her grab my arm.
“He really likes you,” she says, in wonder. “Sam Parsons. Huh. I didn’t realize he felt that way about you.”
And once I stop to think about it, and remember everything that’s happened this morning, I realize she might be right.
Aches, Pains, or Telltale Signs
LUNA
My woman seems to have no choice but to invite Sam and Danny to come in and warm up a bit. They’re like werewolves—grungy, disheveled, and unshaven. Disgusting!
Their only saving grace is that they smell fresh, like snow.
Annika has retreated to the kitchen, and I hear the sputtering of the coffeemaker before long. I find it odd that these men are working to remove snow that is falling from the sky. What a strange job.
“We’ll be right there,” Sam calls out.
Danny puts a hand on Sam’s arm to hold him there, pinching him at the elbow. He turns to his little brother, speaking quietly.
“You know, this would be the perfect time to deal with the house. It’s ideal. Conditions out there are bad. When’s the last time you saw it this bad?”
Sam stares down at his boots. Snow on the tile has already started to melt into rivulets. “It’s been a while.” He wipes a hand over his forehead, and I can see he’s sweating; a few strands of his hair are wet.
“It’s a total whiteout. You know the house is right there, next door,” Danny continues, with a toss of his head. “Across the creek. We’re close. We’re so close I can almost see it through the trees.”
Sam closes his eyes for a moment. “Danny, you’ve got to drop it, okay? Just let it go.”
“Listen, it’ll be fine. Thanks to this snow, it’s gonna be a piece of cake. No one’s outside. No one’s on the road. I’ll never get a chance like this again.” Danny wipes his bottom lip with his thumb. I notice he has a slight gap between his two front teeth. “It’s a great plan, a stroke of genius.”
Sam winces. “It’s not a stroke of genius. It’s a stupid thought that popped out of your mouth after you had one too many at the bar last week. I wish you’d never thought of it.”
“Nah, it’s inspired. It’s going to totally put an end to our suffering. And Dad’s suffering, too. I have to do it. We need to get things in order.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Listen. Do you want Mom and Dad to lose their house?” He pauses, putting his hands on his hips. “And where would you and Brianna go, Sam? You’re living there, too.”
“I know.” Sam hangs his head. “No, of course I don’t want them to lose the house.”
“Me neither.” Danny scratches the back of his head. “So let’s see what happens with the storm and I’ll figure out the best time to do it.”
Sam takes in a sharp inhale, as if he’s been holding his breath. “I don’t know, Danny. It’s just that . . .” He takes a quick glance at his brother and then ducks his head. “But—all right. I mean, maybe it could work. Let me think about it some more.”
“Don’t think for too long.”
Sam stomps his boots to shake the last crystals of snow from the laces.
Hmmm. I’m not sure what to make of this conversation. My whiskers vibrate in warning.
I have no idea what these men are scheming, but it doesn’t sound good. They want to “deal with” the house across the creek? I know that house. It’s brand-new. No one lives there.
“You know . . .” Danny looks around. “I don’t see evidence of a husband, do you? You said Annika was living here now, right? Do you think she’s back home because she’s getting divorced?”
Sam’s face opens up at the mention of Annika’s name, and he glances down the hall toward the kitchen. “I don’t know. She didn’t say anything about—”
We all turn to the sound of footsteps. The stairs wrap around with a sharp turn in the middle, so we don’t see Delilah until she is halfway down the stairs. She’s wearing flannel pajama pants and an oversized shirt with numbers on it. “Oh,” she says, freezing. “I thought I heard people.”
Sam stares at her, mouth open.
“Hi there,” Danny gives her a polite smile. “We know your mom. I’m Danny Parsons, and this is Sam. We’re just taking a little break from clearing the snow.”
It seems as if the sight of Delilah has taken Sam’s breath away, because it takes him a moment to speak. “Annika is your mother?”
Delilah nods.
“You—you look like her. When she was younger.”
“Do I?” Delilah looks them over again, her eyes wide and curious, thick dark hair hanging over one shoulder. “Yeah, people have told me that before. Okay, well, have a good break. I’m Delilah, by the way. Bye.” She disappears back up the stairs.
Sam swallows, watching the stairs long after Delilah has gone.
Danny shoves Sam’s arm. “Go on, buddy. Go get something hot to drink. I’ll be right there.”
Sam nods and heads down the hall, toward the rich scent of coffee brewing. I scamper out of his way, because not everyone looks down before walking, and these men may not be used to stepping over a cat. Danny waits until Sam is out of sight, then takes out his phone and stabs it with his finger.
“Dad. What’d ya need?” Danny stares absentmindedly out the window. “No. Don’t say yes to anyone in Gloucester. Do not do that. Dad—” He freezes. “No, we don’t have time to go over there tonight. We might not even make it to Magnolia until tomorrow.” His mouth stays open as he listens. “Because we’re busy here. There’s a shit ton of snow; the town plows aren’t keeping up, and it’s taking time. Trung’s taking care of Beverly Farms and a couple of—” He drags a hand over his eyes. “Did you hear what I just said? Christ. He can’t go in the opposite direction. Do not take on any more customers. Please, Dad, we can’t really—” He hangs his head, defeated. “I know. Yeah. Yes. Okay. All right. Dad, stop. Please. I’m hanging up now.”
He uses his thumb to press the side of the phone gently and slips it back into his pants pocket. Hands on his hips, he takes in a deep breath and then lets it out.
I follow Danny when he joins the others in the kitchen, and settle down on the rug under our small kitchen table. This home is full of lovely, plush rugs. Some are soft and thick. Others are fun and stringy. There is one braided with ropes, and I love to feel the lumpy texture as I lay across it.
And then, suddenly, I see Peter again.
He gets more vivid in my mind’s eye as I stare at the wall. I can see the slope of his nose and the outline of his body. He’s leaning against the floral wallpaper. I wonder how he feels about these men being here in the kitchen. I stare, drinking in the sight of him.
The worst part about Peter’s death is how unexpected it was. The day he died, Peter was healthy and vibrant. He swam in the ocean. He ate a sandwich at lunch. He argued with Donovan and asked him to take responsibility for doing more around the house. It was a totally normal day.
Yet I can usually sense death coming for humans. It’s true. I have witnessed several deaths.
My first owners were elderly. When my man died, and then my woman perished the next year, I knew it was coming. For days. Weeks, even. I could smell death. I could sense the organs slowing down. I could see the glow of life start to diminish and then quietly go out.
Yet with Peter, I had no clue it was coming. Death descended all at once, like a blanket thrown over his body in a fit of anger.
Peter’s ghost flickers. He seems calm. No moaning, no rattling chains, no evil laughter.
How very disappointing. Ghosts in stories usually do something dramatic. Maybe he’s waiting for the right time to move a lamp, or a pillow, to let Annika know he’s here.
Am I? I’m trying my best! Why are you here again?
He looks over at my woman. I’m here when Annika thinks about me.
Oh! It seems that no one can see you but me.
He nods and shrugs. I know you’ve heard me tell ghost stories, but most humans don’t really believe in ghosts. Even if they sensed a ghost, they’d come up with an excuse not to see it.
I blink at him. Interesting!
Annika hands each of the men a striped mug. They thank her and huddle over their steaming cups as if before a roaring fire. As the color evens out on their faces, I study the two brothers. Danny has already taken off his coat; he now removes a down vest and then a fleece, tossing them on the kitchen counter until he has stripped down to a thermal shirt. Sam, on the other hand, keeps on his black hooded sweatshirt.
The brothers resemble each other greatly, yet I can see the differences. Danny is a little taller, and more feline around his cheekbones and eyes. I’ve decided that Danny must be the clever one, as anyone with catlike features would naturally have to be. Sam, on the other hand, seems more like a dog. Eager to please, glancing at his big brother from time to time to see if he needs anything.
Annika takes a red box of crackers out of a cabinet. She finds a wedge of cheese in the refrigerator and places it on a cutting board with a knife. The men stare at the food but don’t reach for it, as if they’re not sure if it’s for them or not. Annika slices off a piece of cheese and hands it to Sam, who thanks her as a drop of sweat runs down his cheek and he wipes it away.
“You both work for your dad?”
“Yeah,” Danny says, reaching for a cracker. “I’ve worked for him for years. Sam has only been with us for six months. We’ve also got two more employees, Trung and Hien. They’ve been with us a long time. They’re in the other truck.”
Annika taps her lips with one finger. “Wait—you have another truck?” She pauses. “They can’t come help you out?”
Danny shakes his head. “They’re taking care of our customers over in Beverly Farms. I don’t want them to waste time driving all the way over here, and I don’t know if they could get up the hill anyway. I don’t want them to get stuck, too. Better for them to keep moving for those customers.”
“I see.”
There’s a pause where we listen to the twins upstairs, laughing about something. Annika hands Sam another piece of cheese on a round cracker.
“So.” Danny puts his mug down, runs a hand through his hair, and sticks his hands in his jeans pockets. “This is weird, right? You and Sam were high school sweethearts, and you haven’t seen each other all this time?”
Sam gives his older brother a warning look. But Danny looks at Annika, waiting for an answer. She seems caught off guard, unsure of what to say.
“She probably went out with me because she felt sorry for me,” Sam jumps in. “She was one of the smart kids. Too smart for me.”
“I got good grades,” Annika says in a soft voice. “But I didn’t always act very smart.” She grips her mug tight and stares down at the kitchen counter.
I’ve never heard my woman speak badly about herself before. These men seem to be affecting her in a strange way.
Danny clears his throat. “And you have a twin sister, right?”
My ears twitch. I realize the man must be talking about Lisa.
“Yes, Lisa. Well—we’re not actually twins. We were in the same grade, though, because my parents held her back.” Annika takes a sip of her coffee and holds it to her chest with both hands. “Did Sam mention her to you?”
“Yeah, for sure! He said she was a pain in the ass. He told me this one time . . .”
His voice trails off when he sees the look on Sam’s face.
The room gets quiet for a moment. “She was the one we were driving home on prom night,” Sam finally says.
“Ah, right,” Danny says, leaning back against the stove. “Oh—yeah, that’s right. It’s all coming back to me now. The car crash. Wow, that was ages ago. I remember now. I was at college—failing at college, I should say—and Mom phoned me, crying. She was really broken up. That was a horrible way to end senior year, right? We were all so shocked when that happened.”
“Yes.” Annika’s shoulders slump. “It was my fault. I insisted we take Lisa home. Even though we were all drunk.”
Sam’s eyes widen before they narrow. He looks Annika up and down, head to toe, his mouth slightly open.
“That’s not—don’t say that,” Sam says, all in a rush. He starts to reach for her elbow, but then seems to think better of it and pulls his hand back. “It wasn’t your fault. Maybe we were all to blame. But especially Henry McKean, right?” Sam watches her. When she doesn’t look up, he leans closer. “Henry’s the one who ran into us. I wish you and I hadn’t been fighting, but . . .”
Annika shifts her weight from one leg to the other. “No, it was my fault, Sam, and I’m so sorry—”
“Please don’t say that. I don’t want you to think that.”
Danny frowns. “Annika. You can’t blame yourself. Sam was the one who chose to get behind the wheel when you’d all been drinking. Now, I love Sam, and I could’ve easily made the same mistake at that age, but—”
“Let’s not talk about it now,” Sam interrupts. “We don’t need to talk about it. We can’t go back and change anything.”
I lift my head. There! A flickering in the corner, by the sliding glass door. Peter is moving closer. He’s listening to this conversation.
Danny clears his throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore point.” He pushes off from the stove to move toward the refrigerator and swings open the door. He makes a big show of looking over the contents. “Hmm. Are you having a party? Is this why you’re all dressed up?”
“A party?”
He holds up a chilled dark green bottle. “Yeah. Is that why you’re in a skirt and heels? Because I don’t think anyone’s coming. You canceled, right?”
She shakes her head. “No, there’s no party.”
“Oh, I see.” He turns back to the fridge, and his eyes dart back and forth. “Actually, no. I don’t see. Is all this wine for you, then? You went down the packy and stocked up before the blizzard?” He bites his bottom lip. “Don’t worry about it. I get it. You like your wine.”
Annika glances at Sam. He sighs.
“Danny, knock it off. Quit snooping around.”
“It’s okay,” Annika says with a wave. “No, I actually don’t drink. My parents pick up wine from vineyards around New England and left these bottles here when they moved to Maine.” She walks up to him and snatches the bottle out of his hand, placing it on the counter.
“You don’t drink?” Sam asks.
“Rarely. Once in a great while.”
“And yet your parents left you all this good wine?” Danny asks, fascinated.
“Yes, they were afraid the bottles would break if they tried to move them.”
There is another silence as Danny takes a quick, furtive glance at his brother.
Honestly, these men are so slow! They don’t seem to understand my woman. But she is speaking perfectly plain English.
“Hmmm.” Danny strokes his chin with one hand. “I think I might be able to help you out with this situation. I could assist you in clearing out a shelf or two.”
Sam’s mouth twitches. “Dan. Go easy. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
Everyone freezes when a strong gust of wind slams into the house with a howl. The lights flicker.
That’s not good. My fur stands on end.
Annika shivers. “It’s getting bad out there. Did you feel the house shake?”
Ever since the sun set, the wind has been getting more violent. Every so often it careens into the front window with enough force to make the house rattle and moan in protest.
“It’ll be okay,” Sam says, stepping closer to my woman, “don’t worry.” He looks
up at the pendant lamp over the sink, which sways slightly. “I hope the power holds.”
“Yep.” Danny scratches under his chin. “It’s bad. We gotta get back out there and dig out the truck. But first.” He turns to Annika and gestures toward the wine bottle. “Since you have all this wine . . . a shot of this would warm us up better than the coffee. What do you say?”
She chews her bottom lip for a moment, staring at him. Finally, she nods. “Okay. Fine with me. I’m not going to drink it.” When she turns to search through a drawer, Danny rubs his hands together with satisfaction.
It seems Danny is the type of human who can sway others in order to get what he wants. When he notices me looking at him, I decide to get up and say hello. Danny bends down to greet me, so I rub my cheek against the back of his hand. “Hey, girl,” he says to me. “Is this a girl?”
“Yes, that’s Luna,” my woman calls out.
“That’s a great name for a cat,” Sam says, looking at me for the first time.
“She’s named after Luna Lovegood. You know, from Harry Potter.”
The corner of Sam’s mouth twitches up into a smile. “You’re still a science fiction fan, I see.”
She turns to face him. “Harry Potter is not science fiction, Sam. It’s about magic. That’s different.”
“If you say so.”
I push my face against Danny’s hand again because he’s stopped paying attention to me. Hey, down here!
Danny turns his head to admire me, and I blink at him. “This is a pretty cat. But she’s almost cross-eyed. Where’d you get her, the pound?”
“The pound? Like, the dog pound? It’s called an animal shelter. And yes, that’s exactly where she’s from.”
Danny chuckles and runs his hand down my back. And that’s when I sense it.
I lock eyes with him. Up close, his green eyes are spectacular. But. However. There’s something very . . .
Oh.
Oh, dear.
This is not good. Not good at all.
Danny smiles, not a care in the world. But to me, it’s as if he’s now encased in a fog. Here is the thing that strikes me: He shimmers with illness.