“Aha!” he muttered, and typed in the topic to be called up. COMA—idiosyncratic.
Jessica sat up. That’s what they’re saying?” Idiosyncratic was med-speak for “darned if we know.” A coma of no known cause. “So it’s not a matter of oxygen deprivation?” Her brain hadn’t shut down for lack of air? “Then…I just panicked and…jumped? That’s all this is? The spirit is missing, so the body just lies there?”
A long list of articles and studies published in medical journals appeared on the screen. Sam started down the list, selecting and saving the ones that caught his interest.
“Maybe I should’ve stayed in my body? Waited for the firemen? But how was I to know that they’d—”
“What are you jabbering ‘bout, cat?” Sam didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “We havin’ a major indigestion attack here?”
“You could say that.”
“Told you curry wasn’t for cats.” He leaned to grope in his valise, then pulled out the tiniest laser printer Jessica had ever seen. “Want some baking soda?”
“No, thanks.” She watched as he hooked up the printer, then inserted a stack of paper in one end. “But is this good or is this bad, Sam? If I jumped once, could I simply choose to jump again? As simple as that? It’s sure worth a try, isn’t it?”
With a grunt of satisfaction, Sam hit the print command. The printer hummed and commenced printing.
Jessica leapt to the back of the couch and paced restlessly along it. “So I guess the next question is, do you think there’s a range limitation? I was within ten feet of Cattoo—she in midair, me at the window—last time I…jumped. Do I need to be that close again?”
Sam had slouched back, his arms crossed. He sat frowning, apparently mesmerized, while the printer brought forth his articles. Jessica stepped carefully past his head. “It’s sure worth a try, isn’t it?” She turned to stick her nose in his ear. “You have to take me to see me, Sam.”
“Yah!” He jumped violently, then brushed her off. “Worthless, cold-nosed…”
Jessica teetered and fell. “Watch it!” She landed clumsily. “Oof!”
Sam peered over the back of the sofa. “Cats are supposed to bounce.”
“Depends on how far they fall.” Jessica stood and shook herself. “I understand they actually do better with higher falls, up to a point. If they have time to assume a position like a flying squirrel…” But naturally he wasn’t listening. She sauntered around the end of the sofa. “You have to take me to the hospital, Sam.” She leaned against his shin and walked, stropping her side along him. “Tomorrow.”
He kicked at her feebly, but didn’t connect.
“Tomorrow.” She leapt to the table.
He’d hunched forward to read the first article out of the printer. Jessica stood on top of it and looked him in the eye. “Listen to—”
With a growl, he caught her behind the arms and hoisted her so that she dangled nose to nose with him. “Listen to me, pest, and listen good. We…are…not…married.”
“I know that!” Believe me, I know that.
“We are not engaged.” He set her down on the arm of the sofa, then splayed a hand on her neck to keep her there when she would’ve hopped down. “We’re not even going steady.”
“So?” She didn’t like the look in his eye.
“So, for somebody who’s here on sufferance, you sure are pushing it, short stuff. One-night stands better not stand on my reading. That clear?”
“Quite,” she said in a tiny voice.
“And while we’re at it, let me make something else abundantly clear. This is strictly temporary, till I’m sure you’re okay. There’s no place in my life for a pet. And if there was, I’d sooner have a hound dog. Or a hamster. That clear?”
“Oh, quite!” she repeated bitterly. Twisting away from his fingers, she leapt to the floor. “Clear as clear can be, Sam, but just explain one thing to me.”
She stalked across the room and leapt to the windowsill, stared at his blurred reflection. “What happened to the guy who wanted at least four children? The guy who couldn’t imagine waiting till his wife had finished med school to have them?” She moved to rest her nose against the cold, cold glass. “You’re thirty-seven, now, Sam, and what have you got to show for it? Not even a hamster? What are you waiting for? I had an excuse. But what’s yours?” She turned.
He was sitting very still, his eyes wide, unfocused, not blinking. Suddenly his mouth twisted. He snatched up the article he’d been reading, stared at it unseeing, dropped it again.
Standing, he slapped down the lid of his Powerbook. “Screw it!” he muttered. “Screw it all to kingdom come and back again.” He turned and left the room.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BY THE TIME Jessica plucked up her courage to follow him, Sam had shut himself in the bathroom. She crouched in the hall, listening to the shower run.
She had only to close her eyes to see him, his chest silvered by running water, his muscles slick and hard as rocks below a waterfall. His curly chest hair straightening in the torrent, to hang in a dark, waving fringe. All of him warm, wet and vital, inviting her touch.
Every shower they’d ever taken together surged back, drowning her in a tide of memories. She could close her eyes and feel—the chilly tiles pressed against her back, the heat of his mouth on her breasts, his hands cupping her bottom…Stop, she warned herself. Just stop before you break your stupid heart!
She couldn’t stop. Trapped by the memories, she crouched there till the door opened.
“Hup!” Sam stepped sideways, barely missing her. “Blasted underfoot feline.” He was naked but for the towel wrapped round his waist.
“Wow.” Jessica sat up to stare after him. Memory wasn’t half as good as reality.
“Hussy,” he growled, heading for the living room. Lights switched off there, then he stopped by the kitchen to turn those lights off, as well. Reflected from somewhere outside, the faintest moon-glow defined the hall. Returning, he shuffled his feet, his hand brushing the wall. “Where are you?”
I haven’t budged. But he couldn’t see her, she realized as he moved past her. Which meant…
As he groped for his bedroom door, then opened it, she tiptoed at his heels. Too close—her nose bumped his calf when he stopped to flip on a light switch. “Hey!” He grabbed, but she slithered past.
“I just want to see, Sam.” She snatched an impression of an enormous four-poster bed, a large space, the usual gigantic windows. “Very nice.”
“No cats in the bedroom.” His towel slipped. He tossed it aside and came after her. “Here, you darned cat. Jez!”
“Jessica.” She crouched; staring up at him, eyes rounding. “Oh, my.”
He laughed. “Never seen a naked man before?”
“Not in quite a while,” she murmured, making up for lost time.
He scooped her up, cradled her in one arm. “Must look pretty weird from a cat’s point of view. D’you think I’ve slipped out of my coat?”
“I think you’re beautiful.” I can’t believe you were once mine. And no wonder she hadn’t been able to keep him. Any woman who saw him would want to make him hers.
Her fur stuck to his damp skin. She leaned against him, eyes closed in ecstasy, senses filling with his presence, her throat with a rasping song. Her tail curled to hug his waist. He rubbed her ears as he carried her. “Let me sleep with you?” she pleaded. “I’ll just lie at the foot.” It was suddenly all she wanted in the world to simply lie there, hearing him breathe, watching him sleep. Happiness could be no more than that.
He dropped her out in the hall, then tugged her tail gently. “Beat it, babe.” The door closed with a decided thunk.
Jessica stood, her purr winding down to nothing, her ears swiveling to catch the click of the light switch, then the creak of his mattress. Oh, Sam, was that so much to ask? Just to sleep with you?
Apparently it was. With a sigh, she padded off into the dark, pupils expanding, whiskers held at the r
eady, heart heavy, yet strangely full.
JESSICA AWOKE the next morning to sounds from the bathroom. Jumping down from the couch, she paused to stretch—rear in the air, forelegs bowing to the first ray of sunlight. Then she followed her ears.
Clad only in a pair of jeans, face lathered, Sam leaned in toward the mirror, razor in hand.
“Morning.” She yawned hugely, then leapt to the long, marble sink.
“Down.” Touching razor to cheek, he scowled at her, then took a judicious swipe.
She swerved toward a steaming mug, which sat near his elbow. “Coffee!”
She’d stayed awake half the night, trying to open the lid to his Powerbook. Had ended up ready to gnaw her own tail with frustration—without thumbs, it simply could not be done. After that, she’d slept, but from the way she felt this morning, Cattoo must have prowled most of the night. She was bone-tired. “Could I have just a sip of that? Please?” She sniffed the rim.
“Get out of there! And down, dammit.” Sam glanced at his foamy hands, at her, growled, then took another swipe. “I mean it, cat.”
“So do I. I need coffee, Sam.” His eyes were fixed on his chin as he negotiated that tricky cleft. She risked a mouthful, then winced when he yelled.
“I saw that!”
“You try to function without coffee.”-She backed off as he set the razor down to rescue his mug. “Selfish pig!”
“Animal! Lord knows what I’ll catch.” He rubbed the rim with a fingertip, scowled at her, studied his mug as if he might see germs dancing along its rim.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake! I’m as clean as you are.” She’d even managed to brush her teeth after a fashion last night, since he’d left the cap off the toothpaste—some things never changed. “Go fix yourself another if you’re so afraid of cat cooties.”
Apparently that was more trouble than Sam could manage before breakfast. He buried his scowl in his brew, then smacked the mug down on the far side of the sink.
“Fix me my own and I’d stay out of yours,” she wheedled. “Just half a cup? With cream?”
Instead, he picked up his razor. “Get down. Go ’way.”
“Grouch. You used to be a morning person. Didn’t you sleep well?”
No answer beyond a grunt.
She looked up at the mirror, which ended six inches above her head. Seized by an awful fascination, she sat up slowly on her haunches. “What do I look like?” She knew, of course—she looked like Cattoo. But still…Bracing one paw against the wall, she rose to her full height and stared.
Round, gold-green eyes stared back at her. Enormous pointed ears, a fine set of whiskers, a furry, horrified face. “That’s me?” she squeaked.
“That’s you, fuzz-face.” Meeting her eyes in the mirror, Sam laughed. “Want to borrow my razor?”
“Oh, it’s easy for you to laugh!” She rested her nose against the glass and closed her eyes. “You try waking up to find you’ve grown a tail.”
Falling back to four feet, she stood very still, trying to wipe that last image from her mind. Trying to recall the face she should’ve seen. “I’m Jessica.“ Dr. Jessica Myles. Jessica with light brown hair, a nose without fur…She turned to look up at him. “You have to take me to the hospital!”
Still grinning, Sam tipped up his chin to scrape the last of the whiskers from his neck.
“You have to. I want out of here! Now.“ She jabbed her nose against his bare ribs.
“Errrk!” He jumped. “Aw…damn!” Blood trickled from a razor cut alongside his Adam’s apple. “GET AWAY FROM ME!”
Already airborne, she shot out the door.
SHE WAS JUST FINISHING her curry when Sam joined her in the kitchen, a scrap of white tissue stuck to his neck. “Take me with you.”
Ignoring her, he popped bread into the toaster, made himself a bowl of cereal, sat and ate.
“What’s your hurry?”
The toast popped up. “They’re moving her to a private room today,” he said, rising to fetch it. “With some peace and quiet, maybe she’ll start…” He shrugged and sat again, took a bite, then drumming his fingers on the tabletop, stared out the window. “I’ll have to buy a tape player. Stimulation, that’s the ticket—talking books, lots of music. Wonder what she listens to nowadays?”
“Classical. Jazz. The same as always.” It was he who’d broadened her musical tastes. Since him, she hadn’t had much time to listen.
He shook his head. “How can I not know that? She used to like classical stuff, fifties jazz.”
“Yes,” Jessica said softly.
He nodded to himself. “I’ll go with that.”
“And I always loved your Brazilian—”
“Jobim!” he exclaimed, remembering. “That’ll do for starters.” He rose to dump his bowl in the sink. “And I told her old man I’d check her house.”
“Why?” she called, tagging his heels to the living room.
“Make sure it’s weather-tight. Valuables safe,” he muttered to himself, stacking the coma articles. “Wonder if there’s anything she’d like from there, something that might spark her—”
“She’d like her cat!” Jessica leapt to the back of the sofa. “That’s precisely who she’d want, Sam! You and Cattoo. Take me with you!”
But Sam had no idea she’d lived with a cat. He collected his laptop and shoved it into his valise.
“No, at least leave that here! I’m still trying to open it.”
He hooked the bag’s strap over one shoulder, grabbed his jacket, headed for the elevator.
“Darn it, Sam!”
As the doors rolled open, he aimed a finger at her. “Behave yourself, jabbermouth.” He stepped aboard and the doors closed between them.
“Damn, damn, damn and blast!” No hospital visit, no computer, not even a kiss goodbye. She threw herself down on the couch and lay there, eyes narrowed, tail thumping.
After a while she moved to a patch of sunlight.
SAM RETURNED around two, all his fierce expectations washed out of him. “You’re back early,” she observed, meeting him as he stepped off the elevator.
“The private room didn’t open up today, after all.” He trudged past her to deposit his valise and the paper bag he carried on the coffee table. “Maybe tomorrow…” He drifted to a window, braced his arms and leaned, staring out. “No wonder she’s hidin’. All those bells and beeps from the monitors… the smells…lousy fluorescent lights…needle in her arm…nurses and doctors coming and going at all hours…people lying there, half-dead and totally miserable. I’d close my eyes and hide, too.”
Jessica leapt up to the sill beside him. “She’s not hiding, Sam. She’s here. With you.” She touched her nose to his wrist.
Moving blindly, his hand found her. He stroked her tentatively, clumsily, his fingers unaccustomed to the shape of a cat.
Under the chin, she suggested. She’d always wondered if that felt as good as it looked. She lifted her nose to accommodate him, but he simply glanced down at her, then thumped her in the ribs. “How was your day?”
“Oof! I’m not a dog, Sam!” Ducking under his hand, she moved to press her forehead against his stomach. “My day?. Not s’good. I found out that pencils weren’t engineered with cats in mind.” She had a few random strokes on a piece of paper for an hour’s worth of trying, but nothing Sam would recognize as even an attempt at writing. His fingers scratched the spot just forward of her tail, and she hummed with pleasure. “Why are you home so early?”
He thumped her again and turned away. “I have a treat for you.”
“Something edible? You forgot to feed me this morning.” Leaping to the coffee table, she stuck her face into the bag, which lay on its side. It held a small tape player, still boxed, and several cassette tapes.
Cattoo awoke and was instantly delighted. A bag!
Jessica could see why she liked it. She pushed farther into the crackling cave. Light shining through the paper turned everything golden, mysterious. Promising. She reached
the end, then twisted back, meeting her tail coming as she was going. Settling on top of the tape box, she faced the entrance.
Cattoo purred. There might be mice, out there!
There weren’t any a minute ago, Jessica felt bound to point out.
But there might be now! Her pupils expanded to dark, expectant pools. Her pulse quickened.
Something scuttled across the top of the bag.
Cattoo purred louder. Jessica felt herself catching the excitement. The tip of her tail flicked, back…forth…
Something scrabbled near the entrance to her lair. A flicker of motion—she shot halfway out the bag, swiping frantically, then ducked back into cover.
Sam laughed aloud. “Crazy cat!” His fingers tiptoed across the other side of the bag.
Her tail twitched faster. Come closer, oh, mouse! Her muscles tensed, trembled…exploded as the sound came again. She smashed the side of the bag, paper crackling as she bit at its smooth surface. Ears flattened, she popped into view, nailed him in the hand—Gotcha!—then retreated to her lair.
“Maniac! I almost wish…”
Slowly, furtively, she stretched till she could just see his face beyond the rim of the bag. “Wish what?”
Sam wasn’t saying. Chewing on his lip, he stared into the distance.
“Don’t think! Play with me.”
But she’d lost him. He stood and left the room.
She stayed in her cave awhile, tail flicking, heartbeat slowing to normal. When all the imaginary mice had crept back to their imaginary holes, she followed Sam to the kitchen.
He’d opened a new can of glop for her, something vaguely reminiscent of beef. “Cow hooves and other choice cuts?” she guessed, sniffing, then turning up her nose. “You call this a treat?”
Busy spreading peanut butter on bread, Sam didn’t answer. He stacked three slices and headed back to the living room.
“Did you go by my house?” she called, trotting after.
No answer. He sat on the couch, ate a bite, then leaned to unbuckle his valise. “Wasn’t much to worry about. Her landlord took care of the roof—hired a contractor to close it in with plywood. Upstairs is wrecked.” He shivered abruptly, shoulders racking, then squaring again. “God, Jess.”
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