Meow Mayhem

by Lickel, Lisa;

  Mom had good instincts about people. Better yet, I could visit Addy’s office with a really good excuse. But should I leave the house? Do not cry again, Ivy Amanda McTeague Preston!

  Telephone. Definitely. I left a message with the receptionist on duty, who assured me that the doctor would contact me soon. The elderly-sounding man who said he volunteered at the clinic for Addy told me that the city police do not handle missing pets. He saved me one embarrassing phone call, and then surprised me. While I waited, could I make posters? He said he would recruit some of his volunteer friends to help hang them and to search for Mem, as soon as his shift at the clinic was over.

  Tears again. “Oh, thank you! Thank you.” A last thought occurred to me before I hung up. “Um, you’ve been so kind, and I don’t even know your name.”

  “Virgil Toynsbee. Jim from the newspaper’s uncle. Call me Virg.”

  “I’m so grateful, Virg.”

  “You sound like a nice lady,” he told me. “Lady” wasn’t as bad as “ma’am” so I forgave him. “We’ll find your friend, don’t worry, Miss Preston.”

  “Thank you.”

  He understood! Mem was more than a pet, he was my friend. Virg’s mention of the newspaper gave me an idea. I could take out a missing cat notice. A reward might help jog anyone’s memory. It was early, but I was certain this was the right thing to do. Is that You, Lord? Your ever present help in time of need? Thank you for the suggestion.

  I felt an immediate peace. I was growing in faith moment by moment and this automatic turning to prayer felt natural.

  Isis wanted to come along. A couple of gray hairs later, I managed to convince her to stay inside the house and carefully locked the door. Had I been this vigilant last night with the front door? Guilt threatened to overwhelm my precious peace. Back, guilt! I would not let it in. I drove to the Gazette office and found a parking spot only a couple storefronts away.

  There was nobody in sight. “Yolanda! Hello?”

  The sound of her tennis shoes clapping the wood floor boards preceded her.

  “Ivy! Is this business or pleasure?” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Sorry. Late lunch.”

  “That’s all right. Business. But first, how’s Jim?”

  “He’s doing very well, thank you for asking. Jenny’s a really good girl around him, too.”

  The little girl popped from behind the tall counter. “I am, I am! I’m good and quiet by Grandpa.”

  “Well, here’s our Jenny. You scared me!” I picked her up and hugged her.

  “You’re sad, Ivy,” she said earnestly, squaring my face with her sticky little fingers.

  “You’re right. That’s why I’m here.” I set her down, but she stayed close with her arms wrapped about my leg.

  Yolanda pulled her stool over and sat, pen poised. Her acumen was reassuring.

  “It’s Memnet,” I started, businesslike, until her silver curls shimmied with her double take.

  “Oh, dear. What’s wrong? I’m so sorry.”

  “He-he’s missing. From the house. I noticed around lunchtime. I don’t know why I couldn’t tell before. I don’t know how long he’s been gone. I searched everywhere. I called…I called the vet—”

  “OK. You’re OK. Come, sit.” Yolanda came around the counter as soon I started babbling and led me and my leg ornament over to a seat at the work table. Moving books of wedding invitation samples aside, she settled her hip on the tabletop next to me.

  Jenny kept a rhythmic stroking of my arm while her grandmother murmured sympathetically.

  “Jim’s uncle was so kind,” I croaked out, when my voice returned.

  “Good. You talked to him. Virg and his Seeds group was one of my first recommendations for help.”

  “Seeds?”

  Yolanda grinned. “They call themselves the ‘Good Seeds, a Core—that’s c-o-r-e—of Apple Grove Volunteers.’ There’s a dozen of them, all retired seniors. They’re a well-organized group of do-gooders and even have a phone number and a desk in Virg’s den. He’s the leader, but he’d tell you they’re all leaders.”

  “Clever. How do they work? I haven’t heard of them yet.”

  “They don’t make a lot of noise, for sure. I guess if you don’t need them, you might miss them. They keep their eyes and ears open for places to help. Some have their pet projects, like Virg at the clinic, some help at the library or the rec center, others help at school.”

  “Wow. That’s wonderful. Virg told me to make some posters, and he’d organize some of his friends to put them up and help look for Memnet.”

  Yolanda nodded and smiled at Jenny. “I bet we can help, too, can’t we, Jenny?”

  “Memnet ran away?” the little girl asked. “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know, Jenny.”

  “Maybe he went to look for his friend. Don’t worry any more. I’d better go make a poster of him.”

  “That’s right, Jenny,” Yolanda told her. “We need a picture.”

  Out of the mouth of babes…had Mem gone to search for Tut? I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine that scenario. Besides, Mem wouldn’t know where to go, would he? Cats don’t track like bloodhounds. Someone might have nabbed him. Maybe someone confused Mem with Tut. Margaret.

  After we watched Jenny skip toward the back room, I turned back to Yolanda. “I thought I’d put an ad in the Gazette. Offer a reward. Maybe that will help.”

  Yolanda cupped my shoulder in her warm palm. “Yes. How about I put in a notice? We can even put in a couple of paragraphs about how Memnet is special, like the mayor’s cat, Tut, and Isis. I can dig up some of the old copy, reuse it. Oh, and we’d better mention that he’s not wanted for the general round up…”

  “Right. The strays.” I shuddered. “You don’t think anyone would hurt him, do you? Even if he was confused with Tut?”

  Yolanda was already on her feet, headed for the computer. She shook her head. “Let’s make a poster, first. If I know Virg, he’ll be raring to go come four o’clock. How ’bout we meet at your house?”

  “Thank you, Yolanda.” We. “How many should we make?”

  I alternated between thankfulness for my new friends’ willingness to help, dismay, and fear for Memnet, and anger that he was missing. The thought of someone taking him made me physically ill. If I ever found out Margaret was involved, I’d…I’d…scratch her myself!

  When Yolanda designed the poster to our liking, she told me to go home while she printed them. She’d call Virg to let him know when and where to organize his cadre.

  Giving into the urge to check on Isis and see whether Memnet had returned on his own, I dashed home. Business messages were left on the machine, along with one from Addy assuring me I was in good hands with the Seeds. No one had called or turned in a cat like Memnet, and she would put the word out with other pet owners, who had been equally disturbed by the mandate that all cats be tested for CSD. We would get together later to discuss our mutual concern. Thank You, Lord.

  I faced a wrathful Isis who had not appreciated being left alone and took sour note of the fact that I had not brought Memnet. I debated whether to call Adam but did not want to lose my momentum. Besides, it wasn’t his cat that was missing. I gathered a hat, gloves, and four flashlights.

  I met Virg and the Seeds at the end of my driveway about twenty minutes later. The Robbins family from next door decided to help, too, once I told them what happened. The three-year-old twins, Taylor and Timmy, carried matching toy flashlights. Dale called in a few of his buddies from the fire department, and soon I counted twenty people who wanted to search for Memnet.

  Virgil and four of the Seeds, two men eager to be helpful and two white-curly-haired women, handed out photographs of Memnet that I’d printed. They had already divided the neighborhood into search grids and were partnering off.

  Virgil Toynsbee inspired calm confidence. Tall and lean as the proverbial string bean, with receding gray hair, he also possessed an air of authority about him, which made me b
elieve he wasn’t often disappointed.

  “No one goes alone,” Virgil called out. “Especially when it gets dark. ’Bout nine or so. Every group have a flashlight? Good. Now, Ivy says Memnet usually answers to his name. Everyone say ‘Memnet.’” They all complied. “Good,” Virgil continued. “Remember, Memnet has spots, not stripes or patches. I don’t want you to bring back every sort of tabby out there, got that? Even though you shouldn’t find any cat that doesn’t belong to somebody already, since most of the strays have already been rounded up. Ivy, do you want to say anything before we head out?”

  “Um, thank you. You’re all so very kind. Memnet means the world to me. Maybe, would you all mind, if we—said a prayer?”

  “That’s a good idea, Ivy.” Virgil rescued me from another bout of weepiness. He made a show of folding his hands, closing his eyes and lifting his face to the darkening sky. “Lord Almighty, protector of all living things, help us find this missing pet and keep us safe while we go about Your business. Amen. Now, everyone meet back here at eight thirty and there’ll be a drink and snack ready for you.”

  I thanked Virgil in a whisper. Amazed, I watched neighbors, friends, and strangers set out calling for Memnet, searching under bushes, shining their lights into trees. Gradually the lights and voices faded as the groups moved out.

  Virgil gently suggested that I stay back in case someone flushed Mem out and he ran home.

  Yolanda would be here soon, armed with paper cups and brownies.

  After she arrived, she watched me out of the corner of her eye as we filled jugs with lemonade. Eventually we had nothing left to do but wait. Isis allowed Yolanda to stroke her head as they sat together on the sofa in the living room. “Jenny was terribly disappointed to miss out on the action tonight.”

  “Oh? Mem likes her. Is she home?”

  “Yes. My son came to get her, so she could sleep at his house tonight.”

  Yolanda had shared the separation news with me earlier. “Have your son and daughter-in-law started marriage counseling yet?”

  Yolanda stroked Isis’s head a few times. “Yes. I think things are progressing. They don’t sound quite so vitriolic when they talk about each other anymore. Jenny doesn’t cry like she used to when she went with either of them.”

  “It’s a sad time for all of you. I hope and pray they’ll make their marriage work.”

  “Yes. Seems more families break up than stay together these days.” Yolanda shook her head. “I can’t imagine why we can’t get along in a nation that’s supposed to be Christian.”

  “To be honest with you, Yolanda, I think that’s part of the issue. People think that if they profess to be Christian, they’re safe from bad things. Pastor Gaines at New Horizons is teaching through the gospel of John this fall. Last week was about Jesus’s prayer before his crucifixion, a part I hadn’t really known was there before, where Jesus says to his disciples, ‘In this world you will have trouble.’ Jesus doesn’t mean to scare us, Pastor said, but to prepare us. Those whose faith is weak will turn and blame God when bad things happen.”

  “So those who have strong faith know who to blame?”

  I smiled. “I think blaming others isn’t right. I realize more and more that because my former fiancé, Stanley, didn’t like to go to church, I was willing to give it up to please him. When our relationship didn’t work out, I went back. My faith was always inside of me. But I have to work at it to keep it strong. Sort of how muscles atrophy if you don’t use them.”

  Yolanda nodded her head, watching Isis twitch her ears and chortle her rough purr. “Like Jim, in that hospital bed. The doctors didn’t want him to relax too much or he’d have trouble getting around later. His heart was damaged, and some of it won’t ever work right, but it’s still there.” She looked at me. “Do you suppose a person can still have faith, even if it’s damaged?”

  I thought of Adam, watching his wife and daughter die, helpless to do anything to save them. He had lost the desire to return to the church they’d attended as a family. In fact, he had not gone to a worship service until he came to Apple Grove, he’d told me. His faith muscle had atrophied, but I believed he could strengthen it again if he wanted to. “Yes,” I told Yolanda, “Even faith that’s been terribly tried and tested can become strong again. With God, all things are possible.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The search teams returned, filling my small house with stories of “I was so sure that was him under the bushes at Mrs. Crabtree’s,” or “I heard him, I’m sure I did, but when I pulled him out of the shadow, it was just one of those…whadd’ya callits? Tabby. Yeah, that’s right. Stripes. Never seen one with spots.”

  No Memnet.

  If it had been so easy to find my Mem, I would have done it myself. Nevertheless, I put on my game face and served lemonade until the pitchers were empty. Yolanda’s brownies went just as quickly. I had Virgil and Dale write down everyone’s names for me, so I could send thank you notes.

  Yolanda was the last to leave. “I’m mulling over what we talked about earlier. I’ve been worried about everything for so long, and with Jim being sick, I can’t even begin to imagine how much more peaceful I could have been if I had thought about relying on the Lord. Maybe we can talk about our faith more?”

  “Of course. Any time. And I’m so grateful you were here tonight. I think I would have panicked without you.”

  “Does your young man know?”

  “My what? Oh, Adam?” I pictured that groove beside his mouth deepening in amusement if he’d heard Yolanda call him a young man. “No, I haven’t called him yet.” I glanced at the phone, blinking with business I would have to take care of. “I’ve been worried, too. I guess I just hoped Mem would be back and I wouldn’t have to say anything at all. At least it isn’t Isis who’s missing. I couldn’t face him then.”

  Yolanda set her hand on my forearm. “Ivy, call him. It’s been my experience that woes are best shared. Good night.”

  “Thank you. Good night. I’ll be in touch.”

  Adam’s and my last conversation had been desultory. He told me his lawyer had taken care of most of his mother’s estate. The lawyer also reviewed reports from the investigation of the fire. His apartment had been a total loss, though insurance would cover it, since arson hadn’t been proven. Jeff Hanley was eager to buy off the contract and he wanted to sell. One of the coffee shops needed a new manager, and until he could hire one, he would need to stay and run it himself. His usual process took a month, after he advertised for applications and did background checks. Adam’s condo remodel complete, he had moved back home. And that’s how he put it: home. Not home in Apple Grove. He hoped Isis wasn’t causing me any trouble, and he’d let me know when he could spare a day to come and get her.

  Now that Mem was gone, I was glad Isis was here. I wasn’t compelled to return her to Adam just yet, anyway. If nothing else, maybe he’d let me keep her as a parting gift from a relationship that never blossomed.

  Sleep would be a gamble. Even through the stress of the last day, my clients deserved my attention. Up in my garret workroom about midnight, I stopped the tapes and cocked my head toward the steps. There it was again. A scuffle, creak noise came from the kitchen. Too big for a mouse. Memnet? Could he have come back? Or was Isis trying to get out?

  I crept down the steps holding aloft my electric pencil sharpener, the heaviest, most portable object in my office. Crouching in the entrance to the kitchen, I let out a scream and lost my grip on the thing when a shadow moved. A flash of brightness caught in the light of my overhead stove, which I’d left on.

  “Hello, Ivy.”

  “Stanley!”

  The pencil sharpener fell on my toe. While I hopped on my good foot I felt that more than my toe had broken.

  22

  “What are you doing here? How did you get in my house? Don’t you know what time it is?” I should call the police instead of asking inane questions.

  “Ivy, Ivy, I’ve missed you.
” Stanley Brewer held out a foil-wrapped box. “I brought you these.”

  “Stanley, you can’t just walk inside a person’s house.”

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Isis came from the direction of my bedroom. I wondered if Stanley might have accidentally let Memnet out during an earlier foray.

  “I see you still have that old cat.” Stanley tried to make nice.

  “That is not Memnet,” I replied.

  Isis curled her ears back and the tip of her tail twitched.

  I folded my arms. “Stanley, how did you find out where I live? And what are you doing here? How did you get in?”

  “I jiggled the handle. It turned. Can we sit?”

  “No.”

  “I’ve been driving for hours, Ivy. This isn’t my normal route. I’m tired.”

  “So’m I. You mean, you sell this kind of candy now? You used to work for—”

  “I’ve changed companies. A lot of things, actually. Ivy, I just wanted to see you, talk to you.”

  “At midnight? By breaking and entering? Yes, I see things have changed, and not necessarily for the better.”

  “It’s not like that. I…”

  I tapped my slippered foot on the linoleum. It didn’t make the annoying sound I desired. I sighed. “Stanley, this is not a good time. Come back later. At a decent hour. And call first.”

  His receding chin lowered until it disappeared inside the collar of his coat. “I don’t have your number.”

  “You know where I—oh, never mind.” I marched over to the phone on the counter and picked up a business card. I thrust it in his direction. “Here. Take this.”

  He accepted the card, turning it over and over, staring at it. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything. I…I’ll call you.”

  Famous last words. Again. My life was turning into one big cliché. I closed the door behind him, and set the deadbolt. With all the commotion, I suppose I could have forgotten to latch it earlier.

  I leaned my head against the coolness of the door and let my eyelids meet. That satchel he hitched over his shoulder. Something about it seemed familiar. Exhaustion swirled around me like fog. “Isis, I’m beat up. I lost my best friend Memnet and found Stanley. Not an even trade in my book. I can’t think about this anymore. Bed!”