***
It didn't take a genius to see that the cat was nearing the end of its life. Little more than skin and bone, its fur was patchy, having completely fallen out in certain spots. It left the cat looking bare and mangy, as though it had fought a thousand battles. His final one was against a mammary neoplasm. They had already removed the inguinal lymph node with the mammary gland, and now they were using combination chemotherapy every three weeks, using doxorubicin and cyclophosphamide. Even though they were only halfway through the treatment, the side effects - anorexia and myelosuppression - were severe. Chances were the chemo would prove to be fatal so it would be best to halt the treatment for a while to give the animal the time to recover.
It was one of those decisions Simon didn't like making. Too risky. If the cat died because of the chemo, Simon would be the first to blame. It didn't matter if he did it with the intention to heal. But Simon couldn't decide to restrain from any treatment because then he could be accused of making the wrong assessment. He was always at risk no matter what option he chose. It was a miracle he'd made it so far already.
How I hate my job, Simon thought.
It wasn't just about the risk. What bothered Simon the most was the hypocrisy. Tourists came to Clervaux to see the cats. It made them happy because they represented purity and love. But beneath lay a thick layer of lies and hatred.
He couldn't care less about these stupid creatures. The only reason he was there was that he had inherited the clinic from his dad, who had continued to work there until his heart attack forced him to retire. It wasn't what Simon had planned to do with his life – he'd rather have become a sports writer or entered politics. His father had pleaded with him to continue his legacy, and Simon knew the responsibility he had in this town. Keeping the clinic up and running was as important as anything could ever get in Clervaux, especially because no one else dared to touch the cats out of fear of what might happen. He was an altruist. He was the one who decided about life and death. In this town, he was God.
***
At the clinic, Aidan searched in vain for Euthasol, or whatever other intravenous anesthetics he could find. How could there not be a single product to put a cat to sleep? The idea that a cat was suffering and that he wasn't allowed to do anything about it pained his heart. Maybe he would get used to it after a while, but it wouldn't get any easier.
A phone call interrupted his thoughts.
“Clinique Vétérinaire Clervaux,” he said, with as much of a French accent as possible.
A brief silence, then: “Are you new at the clinic?” The voice on the other end of the line was female.
Aidan braced the phone between his shoulders and his ear. “Indeed I am. My name's Aidan Burns. What can I do for you?”
“Oh, okay. That's why I didn't recognize your voice,” the woman said. “I would like you to come check one of my cats.”
“What's wrong?” he said dully. Though he was the veterinarian on duty for house calls today, his mind still clouded with his previous preoccupations.
“I'm not sure. She's leaving a tiny trail of blood wherever she goes, but I don't see any wounds. I would like to have your opinion. Will you come?”
“All right. Is the cat in any distress?”
“No, I don't think so.”
“Then I'll be there in a quarter hour or so,” Aidan said. Taking a name, address, and directions, he hung up.
He took a long swallow of his coffee, took his coat off the hanger, and left. Five minutes later, he was driving down the road toward the outskirts of the town. This afternoon, he'd had to bring their rented car back and look into purchasing a cheap second-hand vehicle so that from Monday onward, Jess could bring Eleonore to and from school. Not that he would need a car in Clervaux because everything was easily reachable by foot.
A quarter of a mile later, Aidan found himself pulling into the driveway of a small, yellow-plastered farmhouse with a sign reading B&B. The place was old but charming. The path leading up to the front door, as well as the walls and roof, were mossy, which made him suspect the B&B was no longer in use. A pink Fiat 500 sat along the side.
A stacked brunette of roughly 30 hovered in the doorway and walked to meet him. She had a fine-boned, olive-skinned face. With her jeans and striped T-shirt, she had something laid-back and boyish, but her long, dark brown hair that fell in light curls below her breasts gave her an extremely feminine appearance.
What a great-looking girl, Aidan thought. Fantastic hair. Sensual lips. Endless eyelashes. Why didn't all women look like this?
“Hi. Thanks for coming by so quickly,” she said. “I'm Lorenza.”
“Dr. Burns,” he said as he held out his hand to greet her.
“Come with me.” Her accent was elusive, but there.
Aidan followed her inside. The entire house was teeming with cats. At first glance, there were at least a dozen. He had just arrived at the crazy cat lady's house, one that was easy to the eyes. One gorgeous creature.
“Which of all these cats is the patient?” Aidan asked.
“It's the little black one over there in her basket.”
Aidan only had to follow the tiny spots of blood across the house to know which basket and cat she had meant. He kneeled down next to the cat. Studying the animal, Aidan noticed that it seemed calm and alert, no signs of grave distress. Rather, the cat gazed at him with a soft eye, apparently undisturbed.
Aidan put a hand on the cat's shoulder. The black coat was smooth and slick, without the slightest dampness. Pulse normal, respiration normal. He examined its body for any wounds, either big or small. There weren't any.
Aidan felt an orange-sized hard balloon in the back part of the abdomen. The cat cried out in pain and hissed when he palpated the area.
“Is it bad?” Lorenza asked.
“Your cat has a urinary problem,” he explained. “It's nothing too dangerous, but she has an underlying condition where there are crystals in the urine, and we need to get rid of those.”
“Will she need an operation?”
“Antibiotics and a special diet will fix this girl right up,” Aidan said. He prepared an injection with antibiotics, which he administered immediately. The cat let herself handle without protest as if she understood Aidan was trying to make her feel better.
He got up and took a prescription pad and pen out of his bag on which he wrote “Royal Canin Urinary SO,” and handed Lorenza the piece of paper. “This diet should help dissolve the crystals,” he said. “But it's important that she eats it exclusively, even if she doesn't like it. Otherwise it won't work.”
She nodded, taking a mental note of everything Aidan said.
“You should also increase your cat's water consumption. Putting several water bowls around the house will usually do.” He tried to concentrate but could not break this woman's gaze. He felt transparent as if she could see right through him. “And I want you to check on your cat whenever she goes to the litter box. If you notice she's straining and can't urinate at all, you should call me right away. But normally she should be fine.”
Lorenza nodded “Thank you so much,” she said. “What do I owe you?”
Aidan asked her for the standard fee for an exam and a house call. Since it was a weekend, technically he should have added an emergency charge, but it didn't seem reasonable, given the little he'd had to do. Not that it mattered; the town would reimburse her anyway.
“I will get you some cash,” she said.
Aidan followed her as she walked toward the back of the house. “Your place is beautiful. The sign said it's a bed-and-breakfast?”
“That's what it used to be before I moved in. I've had a few folks stay here, but I quickly abandoned the idea of keeping it as a B&B – it's just not my thing. Now it's just me, myself, and the cats out here.”
“How many cats do you have?”
“They're not mine. I'm more like the foster mom for our local shelter,” she explained. “The cats stay here until they find a new f
amily, which is often not long since many tourists adopt one as a souvenir.”
Aidan gave her a faint smile. “That's kind of you.”
“I do what I can to keep them alive,” she said. “And since I don't have a real job nor a boyfriend, I'm the ideal victim to stack them up here.”
Aidan smiled. The little he knew about this woman, he had already understood she was kind.
“There's always one of the cats sick or needing something, especially the newcomers. They often suffer from coryza or, even worse, calicivirus, when they arrive here. The tabby over there had a mouth full of ulcers when people brought her in,” she said. “So, yeah, it looks like we're going to see each other often.”
Aidan wondered if she was flirting. Did she mean she wanted to see him often? Probably not. It was wishful thinking. Nevertheless, there was something in her behavior that was flirty. Maybe it was only self-assurance. If he were single, he would have asked her out then and there. It was a nice fantasy. And that's where it belonged: in the realm of fantasy.
She entered a bedroom, pulled some money from her purse on the dressing table, and handed him the notes.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Thank you, also. You're a life-saver. Literally.”
And then Aidan was out the door and walking across the mossy path to his car.
CHAPTER 4
For the first two weeks, Jess thought their move to Europe turned out better than expected. She adored how green it was outside each window, and she loved sitting on her balcony to watch the sunset over the forest, or reading out there, while the heavy scent of pine lingered in the breeze.
But then the frustration crept into her bones, and the isolation grew thick.
One of her biggest issues was the daily commute. It took 40 minutes to bring Eleonore to school and another 40 to drive back to Clervaux. Then, around three in the afternoon, she had to do this same route all over again to pick Eleonore back up. They were back in Clervaux around a quarter to five, just in time to run some errands and prepare dinner for when Aidan arrived.
Eleonore hated car rides almost as much as she hated cauliflower, so Jess tried to make time go faster for her daughter by playing guessing games in the mornings and singing along to her favorite CD in the afternoons. The guessing game became boring quickly. After a few days of “I see something. What do I see?” there wasn't anything new to guess because the only things they saw during their long trajectories were endless rows of pines and spruce trees. New variations on the game and songs were met with crying and sulking. That was until Eleonore discovered there was a soundtrack to her new favorite television program and didn't want to listen to anything else anymore. For Jess, 40 minutes of the same Ad Inferos song on repeat was as close to torture as it could get.
Once Aidan had found a job as a veterinarian in Luxembourg, they'd sold almost everything they owned in Connecticut, canceled their rent, and booked a one-way flight to Europe. He had never taken into account that the only international school wasn't anywhere nearby. How his decision would negatively impact his family had never occurred to him. All that had mattered was to escape reality and live somewhere far away.
Another thing Aidan hadn't taken into account was Jess' professional happiness. How could she ever find a job as a receptionist in a country where she spoke neither of the two languages? Aidan didn't have that problem, because thanks to his travels, both his French and German were more than fine. He had promised he would provide for her, and she was grateful for that, but she knew she needed a job if she wanted to be content in life. It became even more evident now that she spent her days at home with nothing to do. Once Aidan and Eleonore were out of the house, she felt like the purpose of her life was pretty much gone. She didn't mind some alone time – she was an introvert, so she craved it – but too much was too much, especially because Aidan had been working evenings and weekends, too. They had only spent a few hours together since he had started working at the clinic.
She had no idea when she would find a job - if she could find one in the first place. In America, she had always worked as a receptionist at a medium-sized real estate agency, and she'd wanted to do something similar here in Europe.
Oh, well, she tried not to overthink it. Not right now. One day at a time. The solution would present itself eventually. Not that she'd leave the future to chance. Each day, she spent several hours updating her CV, searching job ads, and contacting as many companies as possible. She also went to all the restaurants, hotels and shops in and around Clervaux to see if they had a vacancy, but none needed someone like her, or they demanded she'd speak French and German. Even if she didn't find a job as a receptionist, for which she had fifteen years experience, she was willing to look for something else. There would be something she could do as a job, right? Everyone always told you about the excitement of being an expat, but no one ever mentioned the negatives. It was an adventure, but she wasn't sure it was all worth it.
However, Aidan and Eleonore were still with her. That was the most important. She did wonder if she and Aidan would still be together if she had refused to come to Europe. She doubted it. For years they had fought non-stop over this. They'd had drawn-out discussions with a relationship therapist who had told them that Aidan's nomadic urges sprouted from his fear of commitment. He had also said that “escaping” to Europe wouldn't solve a thing. Aidan would be happy for a few months, and then his refusal to settle down would push him toward another destination. Aidan had always denied he was a commitment phobic. He had married Jess, hadn't he? Finally, Jess had agreed to follow her husband wherever his wandering heart desired because it seemed like the only way to keep her family together. That was life. It was all about adapting and giving things up. She did it for her husband. She did it for Eleonore. She did it for love.
It bothered her that she and Eleonore weren't enough to make him happy. How could her husband be unfulfilled in life if he was with the people he loved and did a job he liked? Maybe Aidan didn't love them? Jess had to admit she had a bucket list as well, but everything on there paled in comparison to the bliss she felt when she was with Aidan and Eleonore. They were more than enough for her. Why couldn't they be enough for him? How could living in another country and leaving behind all their friends and family be better than the happiness they shared at home? She didn't get it. She never would.
By now, Jess had come to terms with the move, more or less, but that didn't mean she agreed with it. That had once been different. As soon as the decision was made to leave for Europe indefinitely, Jess had grown depressed. Very depressed. She had faded discernible with each step that took them closer to their new destiny: selling their house and belongings, booking the one-way tickets, paying Eleonore's new school fees. The control over her life was gone. In only a few short weeks, Jess had become a shadow of her former self. She had let herself go and had completely withdrawn into herself. If Jess wasn't crying, she snapped at Aidan and became angry for what he'd “done” to her as if acting depressed would make him understand how unhappy the move made her, how miserable he made her, until, hopefully, he would change his mind and stay. The only thing she had succeeded at was that their marriage was falling apart. If Jess continued to behave the way she did, she would have stayed in America. Alone. Aidan had never uttered a word of divorce to her, not ever, but the sheer thought that it could happen, had turned on a switch in her head. The idea alone had made her snap out of depression and had her realize why she behaved the way she did and what consequences this could have for their marriage. Suddenly, everything seemed better than to lose the family she loved, even moving to Europe. After that second of realization had passed, she was never again dramatic or overly depressed. She still wasn't happy with how her future was unfolding, but she knew how to keep herself in check.
But now that she was in Europe, she wondered if she had made the right decision. She once more felt like a victim who had no control over her life. Whatever scenario she imagined for herself, nothing
excited her, especially because she knew Aidan wouldn't be with her if she didn't always do what he wanted.
At least, she still had her daughter.
CHAPTER 5
Eleonore had always been interested in cooking. She loved to join Jess in the kitchen to help out with cookies and pastry – both with the creating and the eating part – so they were overjoyed when they found a weekend baking class for children in Clervaux. For all the after-school activities that Eleonore could attend, this one was on top of her list. No better way to integrate her daughter into a new country than with her all-time favorite activity.
On Saturday afternoon, Jess dropped Eleonore off at her first practice. When she picked her up again two hours later, she could guess what they had concocted based on the smell of warm apples and cinnamon wafting its way out as soon as she opened the front door: apple beignets.
When Eleonore saw her mom, she waddled toward her like a duck, looking ecstatic. She was clearly in her element. “Look what I made, mommy,” she said, and she handed Jess a strangely shaped apple beignet. “I made it my own self.”
Jess took a bite out of it, and it tasted surprisingly delicious. Hopefully, they could take a few of those beignets home with them.
“Eleonore has a talent for this. A baker in the making,” her teacher, Madame Theis, said with a strong French accent. Jess already pictured a grown-up Eleonore having her own bakery or sweets shop.
The teacher turned to Eleonore: “Tell your mom what we did today, Eleonore.”
“We picked apples.”
“Where did you pick apples, E?” Jess asked.
“In the garden.”
“You picked apples in the garden? How exciting!”
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