by Madelyn Alt
Now what? A fair question. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
The answer I came up with was to slide a piece of cardboard under the lip of the pitcher until it went right under the terrified critter itself. I tried not to panic as I felt the scrabbling of tiny nails on the cardboard as the mouse continued its desperate bid for escape, but just lifted it, pitcher, cardboard, and all, and made my way to the door. The kitty followed me, watching me intently with her bicolored eyes.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I told her, shooing her back. “I don’t think I need a helper with this part.”
More reproachful stares. I ignored them and took the mouse outside, into the night. Within minutes I had dispatched it into a bushy copse a couple of blocks away from my apartment and had run back the entire way, just in case it decided to follow me.
It wasn’t enough that I had pests of the supernatural kind; now I had to have regular, everyday, twitchy-nosed pests, too? I was never going to get any sleep at this rate.
I let myself back into the apartment, expecting my new black friend to be waiting for me by the door, eager for my return. Nope. She was nowhere in the kitchen or the living room that I could see—and I was not looking under the sofa again, no matter what! I headed for the bedroom, and probably should not have been surprised to find her there, curled into a ball on my pillow. Which looked pretty inviting, I had to admit. I thought briefly of the dinner I had missed out on, and the bath that the kitten needed . . . and none of it impressed me enough to nudge me out of the blue funk of weariness that I felt pressing in on me.
I fell into bed in utter exhaustion, without a thought in my head for anything but sleep. Just for a few minutes, I told myself. Long enough to get the cobwebs out of my head. I found the ball of kitten and stroked her into a purring puddle, absentmindedly smoothing her fur and lulling myself in the process.
I woke up sometime later to a banging noise resounding through my muddled brain, strange, dusty light coming through the windows, a heaviness in my head, and a complete sense of disorientation. It had been too hot for a blanket, and my clothes, which I hadn’t managed to remove before I collapsed onto the bed, were now horribly wrinkled and twisted. I tried to sit up, but couldn’t seem to get up more than an inch off the pillow. I sighed, thinking it must be that I was still half-asleep. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to warm up my brain for optimum receptivity to thought processes, then tried the whole procedure again. And again, I couldn’t rise more than an inch off the pillow. This time I felt a distinct tugging on my hair. It was like the crown of my head was stuck to the bed with superglue.
What. The. Heck?
Chapter 9
I put my hand up to my forehead. My fingertips connected with something solid, and yet somehow squishy, but that was most definitely not me. It was about that time that I realized that something was pinning my head to the bed.
It was also about that time that I remembered the kitten.
Who seemed to have made a nest out of my hair and was curved around the whole of my head like some kind of furry headband.
I was now really wishing I’d taken the time to bathe her.
My hand closed around her body and I lifted her straight up out of my hair, which I could not wait to shampoo, carrying her down to my chest. Her body was like a ragdoll in its relaxed state, hanging straight down by all fours, all feet and tail. When I set her down on my chest, she resituated herself slightly, stretched her paws out, and blinked at me. “Mew,” she said softly. I touched her soft footpads and she peered at me, then rolled herself over and sat up on top of me, her whiskers and her sparkling personality both twitching to life. She looked somehow cleaner this morning . . . which, now that I thought of it, probably did not bode well for the state of my own shining mane.
“Good morning to you, too,” I said out loud. She responded by running in circles around the bed, her tail up and fully bristled, before she settled for an attack on my bare feet. “Okay, ow, I don’t think we’re going to be doing that. You have teeth, you see, which you don’t seem to realize, and—ouch! Claws, too.” The little minklike beauty had grabbed on to my whole foot with all four of her own and was now wrestling back and forth like a dervish. “They’re the pointy, razorlike things coming out of your toes. Okay, then. What is that banging?”
The banging, which I had originally assumed was a remnant of my murky dreamworld, began again with a vengeance. My heart pounding, I leapt out of bed, realizing there was someone at my door at the same moment that my cell phone began ringing. I grabbed it, flipping it open on the run and ignoring the warning for a missed call that would have to wait until later. “Hello?” I said, checking the mirror over the dresser as I passed it by. Oh, God. Total beauty annihilation.
“Are you in there, Sleeping Beauty? I saw your car at the curb. Don’t tell me you’re actually taking a day off.”
It was Steff, best friend extraordinaire. Normally the sound of her voice would have lifted my spirits instantly, but just then, all I could do was groan as I opened my front door, my cell phone still stuck to my ear. Steff’s eyes widened when she saw me. I lifted my hand in a weak wave. “Hi.”
“Oh. My.” Her lips twitched. Her gaze darted around the still dim apartment. “Sleepover?” she asked in a hopeful tone, her gaze darting back and forth over my shoulder. “Got some hot hunka man sequestered away in there?”
“I wish,” I grunted, stepping out of the way so she could come in. I did have a sleeping partner, but not one that would fit the bill.
“Should I assume that you threw caution to the wind last night and are nursing the rare hangover?”
Despite the fact that I felt like I had one, minus the fuzzy tongue, I shook my head. “I just woke up. What are you doing home at this hour?”
“What, nine thirty-seven? I got called into work unexpectedly last night, so I have the day off, and I’m wired. Imagine my delight in finding you home, too. So . . . why are you? Home, I mean. Not working today?”
My brain didn’t quite feel like functioning, but her nurse’s getup seemed to confirm her statement. Still . . . My mouth fell open. “What time did you say it was?”
“Nine . . . thirty . . . seven,” she said slowly. “Are you not feeling well?”
Without a word, I raced into the bedroom to check my alarm, but the glowing green dashes corroborated Steff’s claim. My cell phone was still in my hand. I lifted it in front of me and pushed the display button. Nine thirty-eight. Even worse.
I had overslept. Dreadfully.
The kitten roused herself from her nap with a yawning stretch, then sat in the middle of the bed, staring at me. Steff came to the bedroom door. “Sooooo . . . not supposed to be here right now, I take it?”
“I’m late.” So late. And getting later by the minute. Must. Clear. Head.
“Who’s this?” she asked, nudging forward to the edge of the bed and holding out her hand.
“My hot hunka. I picked her up last night when I was caught by the accident at the feed mill.”
“You were there?” she asked, picking up my fuzzy friend and cradling her in her hands. “My, you do get around. I heard about it from the ambulance drivers who brought the body in.”
“Yeah, I was there. Purely by chance. They’d stopped a train over the tracks, so we tried to circumvent it, only to get stuck by the emergency crews.”
“Poor Mr. Turner,” Steff mused. “He didn’t stand a chance, falling from that height. The accident was the talk of the hospital last night.” She caught me looking at the clock again. “Oh, my goodness. Here I am, chatting away, and you’ve got to get to work. Why don’t you hop in the shower, and I’ll take care of your new friend here.”
“Deal!” I smiled at her. “Thanks, Steff.”
I jumped into the shower as Steff asked, “I’m thinking you need food, little minx. Let’s go see what we can find, shall we?” and I couldn’t help smiling. Another one bites the dust.
I emerged from the shower less than seven steamy
minutes later, threw on a pair of cotton capris and layered on a pair of complementing T’s, and pinned back my unruly hair at the nape of my neck with a healthy dose of frizz serum. I was as ready as I could be under the circumstances.
Steff had found the tins of cat food I’d bought last night and had broken one open for the kitten, complete with a splash of milk. The furball was eating with gusto, one foot inside the dish to prevent its escape. “This is surprisingly entertaining,” Steff said as I joined her. “Her belly is bulging at the seams.”
She also had a milk mustache. And beard. And her foot was soggy. I would have liked nothing more than to stay and stare at her cuteness all day, but I really had to get to work. “But what am I going to do with you?” I asked her as she sat back from the empty dish and began to wash her foot. I flicked my gaze to Steff hopefully.
She held up her hands. “Don’t look at me!” she said with a laugh. “I have to be back to work at three this afternoon and I’ve got to try to sleep before then.”
Hmm. I couldn’t exactly leave the little minx here by herself, could I? I could only imagine what kind of trouble she might get in for entertainment purposes. Must think.
I scooped her up and tucked her under my arm. The kitten went amazingly still and looked up at me with such complete trust that my heart just melted. “Oh, that is so not playing fair.” I ran my fingertips over the sleek bridge of her nose. She closed her eyes and nudged against me, pushing her head into the curve of my fingers and purring loudly.
“She sure doesn’t pull any punches, does she?” Steff agreed.
I knew then that I wouldn’t be looking for a home for her. Somehow, in the midst of last night’s tragedy, and against all odds, she had found her home, with me.
Brightening up, I said, “Hold on a sec. I need to make a phone call.” I grabbed my cell phone and dialed the store. After ten o’clock now. Why hadn’t Liss called?
“Enchantments Antiques and Fine Gifts. Felicity Dow, at your service.”
Explanations and regret spewed forth instantly at the sound of her voice. “Liss, I am so sorry. I don’t know what was wrong with me last night. I apparently didn’t set the alarm, and I woke up just a little while ago with a cat in my hair, frantic, and I—”
“Slow down, slow down,” Liss said with a chuckle. “No worries, ducks. With all the extra hours and effort you put in, I’m hardly likely to quarrel over a little time here and there. These things happen. The winds of fate are stronger than either of us. Best to accept that and allow ourselves to bend and flex in their wake, don’t you think?” Liss at her most Confucian.
“All right. If you say so. Anyway, I’m awake, I’ve showered so as not to offend, but I seem to have a little problem.”
“A furry one?”
“You guessed it.” She always knew what I was talking about, too. Our sensitive-to-sensitive connection had always been strong, from the first moment I’d stepped into the store and had been exposed to this strange, new world. “I, um, think I’ve decided to keep her.”
“Imagine that.” Amusement came through in her voice, loud and clear. She had known that, too. “You’re bringing her in with you today, of course. She’s too young to leave alone just yet. Besides, I think the store could use a cat for atmosphere, don’t you?”
Relief swept through me. Thank goodness for soul connections. “I’ll be in shortly.”
“Take your time. I’ll see you when I see you.” And that was one of the things I loved about working for Liss. Nothing ever fazed her. She didn’t just go with the flow. The flow seemed to work with her. Always. She had so much positive energy and light in her personality and aura that anyone who came within her sphere was carried along for the ride.
“You know,” Steff said as I clicked the button to end the call, “I really like your boss.”
“Me, too,” I beamed.
“In fact, I wish mine was more like her. Mine’s had it in for me since someone let the cat out of the bag about me and Danny,” she said with a gloomy grimace. Then she let out an unexpected yawn. “Whoa. I don’t know where that came from.”
“Looks like your lack of sleep is catching up with you.”
“Looks like.” She stood up, watching me as I gathered the things the kitten and I would need for what was left of the day.
Grabbing the kitten herself, a can of cat food, a spare dish, and the rest of the cat litter into a department store tote bag, I gave Steff a big hug. “Wish I could stay longer, but you wouldn’t be awake for long anyway. Go on and get some sleep.”
“Will do, Shamu.” She grinned at our childhood rhyming game. I just rolled my eyes.
At the door, keys in hand, something made me pause and ask, “Steff . . . have you ever heard of a Dr. Dorffman?”
“Hm. I don’t think so. There are a lot of doctors commuting between hospitals nowadays, though. Why do you ask?”
“No matter. No reason.” And really, I didn’t have a reason. Not one that I recognized. Only that Joel Turner’s doctor’s name was stuck in my head, and there was no earthly reason why.
In the car, I set the stuff down on the passenger seat but kept the kitten in my lap, despite the fact that I could already see several short black hairs dusting my thin sweater. She seemed supremely comfortable there. In fact, she wasn’t budging. I looked down at her as I put my hands on the wheel and the gear shift, and I couldn’t help giving her an adoring smile. Yes, I know, it was the first step down that steep and slippery path toward becoming a bona fide Crazy Cat Lady sometime in the distant future, but . . . how could I resist the pull? I was smitten.
How did this happen?
The trip across town was uneventful, the morning commute traffic having dwindled down to leave mostly soccer moms going to the grocery store or some of Stony Mill’s elderly heading to various appointments around town. I had just hit the stoplight in front of the courthouse and was about to turn onto River Street when my cell phone rang. My sister’s home number was displayed in the display window.
“Hi, Mel.”
“Maggie, where were you? Why didn’t you answer my call?”
The missed call . . . it must have been Mel. “Sorry about that. I overslept this morning, and—wait, is anything wrong? Where’s Mom?”
“Downstairs with the girls.”
“And everything’s okay?”
“Yes, it’s fine. Everything’s quiet right now. Edgy, but quiet. But that’s not what I’m calling about. You want to tell me what happened last night?”
She was Libby’s friend. Of course it was perfectly natural for Libby to have sought solace by phoning her first thing.
I cleared my throat. “You mean the accident at the feed mill?”
“Libby called me last night, nearly incoherent. After all of the trouble that she and Joel had gone through to get their marriage back on the right track, something like this happens? No wonder she was beside herself.”
I thought about this as I pulled into my usual parking spot in the alley behind the store. I tried to remember how Libby had looked when I’d left the Turners to their private grief. She’d seemed calm enough by then, but there was nothing like talking to a friend to break down all the carefully built walls, and before you know it, everything just comes tumbling out.
“She said she had seen you at the feed mill. After the accident.”
“Yeah, it was pretty awful. Liss and I happened along at the wrong time, I guess.”
“That’s it? You didn’t have any . . . intuition . . . or vision, or something . . . that led you there?”
“Nope. It was pure coincidence.” Well, some people say there is no such thing, but Mel didn’t need to know that.
“I knew it. I told Libby there wasn’t any funny stuff behind you two showing up there, but I don’t think she believed me. She seemed to think it was awfully strange coming upon you there. You know. Especially after what we found out about you and your boss . . . well, can you blame us for wondering?”
Actually, I couldn’t. I must be mellowing. “Listen, Mel, as long as everything’s okay for now, I’m going to have to let you go. I need to get in to work.”
“Oh. Okay. Should I call you if anything—you know—odd happens?”
“Definitely. And hopefully I’ll have an answer for your problem today. Until then, hang tight.”
Relieved, I pressed the End key before she could think of anything else. As always when I got off the phone with my sister, I felt as though all my energy had drained out through my feet. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was just a deficit of my own quirky personality. I sighed deeply and turned to the kitten, who had gotten bored through my lack of attention and gone to sleep on the passenger seat. “Well, little one. If Liss hasn’t given up on me entirely, maybe we could go in now, hm?”
I tucked her inside my purse again so that I could carry in her few necessities without making another trip. Her fuzzy head popped out the front end as I walked, sleep forgotten as she watched our progress with bright eyes. It amazed me that I already felt such a bond with this tiny bit of fluff and energy. She’d been in my life only around twelve hours now, and already I felt like a mom.
“There you are!” Liss said as I—we—came through the back door. She held out her arms to take the bag. “Here, why don’t you give me that and bring the little dear in here. My goodness me, just look at her.”
I grinned and held her aloft in both hands. “She is a beauty, isn’t she?”
“She’s brilliant. Here, I took it upon myself to have the hardware store send a few things over for her, things I thought she’d need while she’s here in the store.”
The few things, I could have sworn, turned out to be half the cat supply aisle. Some of them were essentials—a litterbox, litter bags, the most expensive kind of cat food money could buy that wasn’t freshly steamed chicken breast—while others, like the Krazy Kitty Kubicle set, probably were not. Though I was sure the kitten would be more than happy to put it to good use. She was already down on the floor, sniffing at all of her newfound booty.
Liss was happily unpacking things and setting them up where she thought they would get the most use. “I have always had an affinity for cats, you know,” she remarked. Unnecessarily, I might add. Her feelings toward them were pretty hard to mistake.