by Leah Atwood
“You’re a nut, Matt Hayes!” she said as the door swung shut. “What will people think of us?”
“Let ’em think! I like watchin’ you laugh. You should do it more often.”
“Yes, I probably should, but life’s pretty sobering when one is all alone.”
Matt frowned. “Alone?”
“Well, not entirely alone.” Rayne leaned against the corner light pole. “As you know, my folks are still overseas, so I have family—but no one nearby, you know—so it feels pretty lonely at times.” She met his eyes and smiled.
“Hmmm! I should do something about that, then, don’t you think?”
Rayne straightened. “There’s no need for you to ‘do something,’ since I do have Mama and co at the moment.” She shook her head at him, curls dancing near her cheeks.
Matt’s fingers flexed. He cleared his throat and jammed his fingers into his jeans pockets.
“You’d better scoot,” Rayne said. “You have an appointment, don’t you?”
Matt yanked his phone from his hip pocket to check the time. “Oh no! I hope I don’t miss this bus!” He trotted down the street, swerving around to wave at her. “I’ll phone you this evenin’!”
“Hope you can sell your cattle!” Rayne called. Butterflies dipped and swayed in her chest. Her breath made a breath cloud in front of her face. She slowly smiled and mentally calculated how long it would be before he could phone.
Phone? Flyers fluttered in her grip as she waved at him. He doesn’t even have my phone number! Or does he? He said he had wanted to phone.
“Get a grip, Rayne!” she muttered. “You just met this guy! For all you know, he might not be as nice as he seems.”
A playboy? A dilly-dallying cowboy-in-town? Somehow, she didn’t think so! But still, how had he found her phone number?
Twenty minutes later Rayne unlocked her apartment door. Mama, leaped out of the laundry basket in which Rayne had made a cozy nest, scattering mewing kittens. She rubbed against Rayne’s ankles, impeding her temporary mistress’s progress toward the coat closet a few steps inside the door.
“You, my dear Mama, have given me a lot of giggles this morning,” Rayne said, placing the last flyer on the table. She stroked Mama. “Let me get my coat off and I’ll get you some food and milk.” When Rayne plopped down on her only easy chair to change shoes for slippers, Mama immediately hopped into her lap. “Hmmm!” Rayne said. “Missed me, did you?”
Mama purred her assent and arched against Rayne’s hand. Reluctantly moving the cat aside, Rayne stood to get the kitty nibbles. She had a feeling today’s writing would not go well.
And, of course it didn’t. In disgust, she put on her coat to go get her mail from her landlady in the main house. The check she expected from her last short story sale was not in it. “You really need to set up direct deposit with your publishers. Get a grip, Rayne! Even though you grew up in a remote part of Africa, you can do this! You can handle whatever you set your mind to do.” She remembered the peaceful days on their mission station and the memory brought a nostalgic smile to her face.
She had struggled to put words on paper all morning and the afternoon went no better. It seemed to crawl by. “What an idiot you are!” she scolded herself. “He can’t phone. Be smart and guard your heart. You’ve only known him a short time. You don’t want to be hurt again.”
By five o’clock, Rayne rested her elbows on the manuscript scattered over the table. Not even printing it out has helped you get this story straight. You may as well pack it up for the night. Tomorrow, may words stream out with a rush.
At the ringing of her cell phone, her heart seemed to stop. “Hello?” She expected to hear Matt’s deep voice.
A decidedly feminine voice sounded in her ear. “Hello, my name is Sasha. I saw a poster about a cat you found. It could be mine.”
Rayne’s heart made a strange movement—like a plummet. Not Matt. And I hadn’t stopped to think how much I’d miss Mama. “Yes,” she said into the receiver. “I did find a mother cat with kittens.”
“With kittens?” The woman’s voice sounded startled.
“Yes. Three.”
“I can’t deal with kittens.”
Rayne ignored her remark. “When would you like to come and see if Mama is yours?”
“Mama?” Alarm definitely tinged the woman’s voice now.
“Yes. My nickname for her until her owner comes.”
“Ah, yes, I see.”
They made arrangements for the lady to come in the evening around eight o’clock.
“Well, Mama, you may be going to your old home,” Rayne said as she scratched Mama behind the ears and the cat’s purr filled the room. “I haven’t had you with me for long, but I’ll miss you.” Rayne swallowed at the lump in her throat. “It’s been nice to have someone welcome me home.” She went to get supper for herself and for Mama.
A light knock at her door startled Rayne. She glanced at the clock on her coffeemaker. Can’t be Mama’s mama yet. She slipped Mama’s dinner onto the floor and went to the door. She drew open the lace curtain at the old-fashioned window in the top of the door. Matt stood smiling on the other side of the glass. Her heart caught and then revved up to double time. She opened the door.
“Sorry I didn’t phone,” Matt said. He jammed his fingers into his jeans pocket. “I got to talkin’ to someone on the bus, and here I am.” A half-hitch smile lifted his cheek, but his eyes seemed to soberly question his welcome.
“Yeah, right! You don’t even have my phone number.”
“But I do.” Matt snatched the felt cowboy hat from his head and then seemed not to know what to do with it. His eyebrows squeezed together, and he rubbed his forehead. “I could have reached you, but I just showed up at your door instead.” Matt’s hands made the rounds of his hat brim.
“You could have taken my phone number from one of the flyers, I suppose. But how did you know how to find my apartment?”
The hat kept making its rounds in Matt’s hands. He cleared his throat. “I saw you, once, from a distance and you turned in this gate. I came in the gate and sorta looked around. When I saw the lace curtain in your door’s window, I decided to knock, hopin’ you’d be the one to open the door.” He cleared his throat again, louder than before. “I apologize for followin’ you. It’s not a very gentlemanly thing to do, but… but, well, I did it. I shoulda phoned, like I promised.”
“Well, I don’t usually let Montana cowboys into my apartment on a rainy night,” Rayne said, “but a woman’s coming at eight to see if Mama’s her cat. It could be dark by then, so I’m a bit uneasy opening my door to a stranger.” She opened the door wider. “So, come in, Cowboy Matt,” Rayne said as she opened the door wide.
He stepped in tapping his hat rather loudly on his leg. Too loudly. Mama leaped away from her bowl, bolted through the open door, and disappeared down the stairs into the darkness like a golden ghost-cat.
Rayne gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh dear!” She ran to her deck and down a couple stairs before she realized she didn’t have a coat on. “What should we do, Matt?” She shivered and stepped inside. “Do you think she will return on her own?”
“I don’t know. But if the lady is comin’ at eight, we have time to find Mama. Get your coat and phone. You go left up the street. I’ll go the other way. We can call each other if we find her.”
Rayne put on her coat. “Let’s meet here in half an hour.” She clapped a hat on her head and entered Matt’s phone number into her phone as he dictated it. However, when she offered to give him hers, he just grinned.
“I already have it,” he said. He smiled and trotted up the street.
He does have my phone number. He wasn’t just kidding me. She tugged on a pair of gloves. How could he have gotten it? She started calling for Mama. “Here, kitty! Come, Mama!”
At seven-thirty, neither had phoned the other. She sat at the bottom of her stairs with her head in her hands when Matt came around the newel post at the b
ottom of the stairs.
“Didn’t find her, huh?”
“No. Matt, what am I going to do? The lady will be here any minute.”
“Let me go to the park. Maybe Mama’s gone to her birthin’ nest. You wait here for that woman—what’s her name again?”
“Her name’s Sasha.”
“Yeah, I knew it was somethin’ different. I won’t be but a few a few minutes.”
Rayne mounted the stairs with an uneasy feeling about meeting a stranger alone—in the dark. “Eight’s not late,” she reassured herself. “You’ll be fine. Besides, Matt will be here in no time.”
Fifteen minutes later, Sasha arrived. Rayne invited her in and explained what had happened, and told her Matt had gone to the park to see if Mama had gone to check out her old birthing nest. “Let me show you the kittens while we wait,” Rayne said. “They are so cute!”
Sasha reached out to stroke a tiny ear but quickly pulled her hand away. “I can’t have kittens at my house,” she said emphatically. Rayne placed the spurned kitten—a darling kitten—in the basket.
Sasha sniffed. “You’ll have to keep them if the mother cat is my Cleopatra.”
“Keep them?” Rayne’s fingers plunged into the hair near her temples. “I can’t keep them! They’re still too little to be weaned. They need their mama.”
Sasha’s mouth pinched up tight. “I can’t deal with kittens,” she said again. She began twisting her fingers together. “I didn’t realize Cleopatra was pregnant. I don’t want her to have kittens.”
“Well, your wish is too late, I’m afraid. And not realizing she was going to have babies doesn’t release you from the responsibility of caring for them until they are weaned –if Mama is Cleopatra, of course. That’s what I’ve been calling Cle―uh, the cat I found. I didn’t know her name, and since she’d just had kittens, it seemed fitting.” You’re babbling, Rayne. Stop it!
Footsteps pounded up the stairs—Matt’s, and he held out Mama. “Here she is. I found her in the nest, just like we thought.”
“Oh, Mama!” Rayne reached for the cat, fondled her ears and then put her in the basket with her kittens. “What a genius you were to think of her birthing nest, Matt. I’m so glad you found her.” Mama jumped right out of her basket and began weaving herself around Sasha’s ankles.
Sasha bent and pushed the cat away. Frantically searching her pocket for car keys, Sasha said, “I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She glanced around the room and across the floor, obviously avoiding Rayne’s eyes. “Cleo—Mama is not mine.” She opened the door and fled down the stairs.
“Well! Strange,” Rayne said as she closed the door. She picked the gray tabby out of the basket and held it near her face. “Who could reject such a darling kitty as you?” she murmured in the kitten’s ear. “I wonder…” Looking toward Matt, she saw a warm expression on his face being wrestled into control. “I wonder if I’ve just inherited Mama and co for good.”
“Wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Matt hooked his thumbs in his front jeans pockets. “You seem to really like the whole family.” He looked toward the door. “I should be goin’.”
“You can’t go yet.” Rayne went to block the door. “We have something to discuss.”
“We do?”
“Yes. How did you get my phone number?”
“Aw man!” Matt smacked his hat against his pants’ leg. “I hadn’t planned to tell you this just yet. I’ve been writin’ to your folks because I’m interested in missions. Medical missions seem to especially interest me. So, when I told ’em I expected to come to Seattle, they gave me your phone number.”
Rayne’s jaw dropped and she stood stock still for a minute. “Well, I had no idea. They didn’t tell me you would be calling.” A long pause seemed to widen the distance between them. “I’m surprised they didn’t mention it.” Another long pause.
“They didn’t give me your address, Rayne, and I apologize, again, for followin’ you home. Runnin’ into you at the park was just a fluke.”
“A fluke?”
“A fortunate fluke, though. Actually ‘fluke’ doesn’t sound right. I think I like ‘luck’ better. Yep. Good luck.”
“Actually, I don’t believe in luck. Do you?”
“No,” he said, looking intently into her eyes. “I don’t. I believe in God’s guidance.”
Rayne’s knees felt unsteady and her hands were certainly trembling. “I do, too. I—uh—I was just going to open a can of soup for supper. You may as well have something hot for the trouble of helping me, in the cold, too. As long as you’re here anyway. On the other hand, maybe you’re in a hurry?”
Matt looked sober for a moment. A slow smile began to build until it lit his eyes. “No, I’m not in a hurry. And helpin’ you—no trouble at all.”
“I can even offer crackers and cheese to augment the soup, if need be.” Rayne smiled. She moved with light steps toward her miniscule kitchenette. “Besides you haven’t told me about your interview. I have to hear about the whole story.”
“I offer one squashed hamburger as my contribution to our supper.” Matt pulled it from a capacious coat pocket. “I had intended to eat the whole thing, but we could share. It’s a bit the worse for wear from snarin’ Mama out of her hidey-hole, but it should taste okay.” Laughter came from deep in his chest, and Rayne’s chuckle joined in. He leaned a hip against Rayne’s tiny kitchen counter while she popped open a can of soup, poured it into the pan, and put it on to heat. She cut the hamburger and warmed it in her tiny microwave.
“What can I do to help?”
“My apartment’s too small for a dining table,” she said. Pointing to the cracker jar she continued. “You could put the crackers on the coffee table, my only table-like furniture.”
“Aha!” he chuckled as he picked up the container. “A coffee table is one step up from my dinin’ facilities.”
“Sitting on a log by your Montana campfire, I suppose?”
“In this winter weather? Nope! I dine like a king. I sit in my recliner for dinner, cozy, warm and dry, and watch sports on TV.”
“Now why am I not surprised?” She removed a tiny Christmas tree from the coffee table, then ladled soup into two bowls in the kitchenette, and brought them to the table. Matt came behind her bringing the cheese, and hamburger halves.
“Dinnah is served,” she said in the formal tones of a butler, with a flourish toward their bowls of soup.
“Silly girl!”
“I want to hear about the appointment you had, but let’s pray first.” Rayne took Matt’s hand. “Thank you, Father, for Your provision of food. You’re so good to us, Lord. Amen.”
When she looked up, she met a warm expression in his eyes.
“Now tell me about your interview.”
“I didn’t get my cattle sold, but I found another market. They might be interested. Some guy wantin’ to ship cattle to Costa Rica. I can’t phone him until mornin’, though.”
While they chatted over the simple meal, Mama purred from where she fed her kittens in the basket near Rayne’s chair. When they leaned into the cushions, replete with their simple meal, Rayne sighed and began to stack their dishes. “I hadn’t planned on dessert since I didn’t expect company. Do waffles with Lemon Curd sound good? Waffles don’t take long to make and I have some of the curd in the fridge.”
“What’s Lemon Curd?”
“Do you like lemon pie?”
“One of my favorites.”
“Well, then, you’ll like Lemon Curd. It tastes just like lemon pie, but it’s spreadable. It’s really good on waffles since it fills into the grid.”
“Mm. Sounds good, then. I like to try new foods.”
The next morning Rayne woke in the silent darkness. Mama had jumped on the bed and was tapping Rayne’s nose. “Silly Mama!” Rayne’s voice sounded blurred with sleep. “Where are your babies?”
Mama just purred, flopped on her side and turned belly up.
“Are you hungry, Mama? Hmm?”
Rayne stretched her arms over her head and realized how cold her room felt. “I need some coffee, for sure. Let me get us some heat and then put the coffee on. Afterwards I’ll get you some food.” She threw off the covers and flicked on the space heater.
Mama leaped from the bed. “Meow!” She sounded pitifully starved.
“Okay, okay, you’re next. My coffee can wait.”
Rayne filled Mama’s bowl with kitty nibbles and poured some milk in a small dish. Then she prepared the coffee and stood, bleary-eyed, braced against the counter’s edge, waiting for the brew to finish. The luminous dial on the coffeepot’s clock read five-thirty. A huge yawn made Rayne’s jaw pop loudly. “This is way too early to be getting me up, Mama.”
When the pot hissed and gurgled its last, she poured a cup, adding some half-and-half and a dash of sugar. Walking to the window overlooking the street she saw the moon, like a sliver of ice, hanging just above the pointy conifers silhouetted against the Sound’s stirring waters. Frost glittered on the grass. “No Seattle rain this morning,” she murmured to Mama. “Memories of ‘dining’ with a handsome man last night definitely give a good start to one’s morning. But be savvy,” she admonished herself. “Don’t be too easily taken in. You haven’t known him long. He may have kissed the Blarney Stone, but you’ve a good head on your shoulders, Rayne. So use it!”
With a determined nod she went to dress, tidy her apartment and have her devotional time. “Lord, guide me in my relationship with Matt,” she prayed.
Later, eager to get into the short story she hadn’t finished the night before, she plunged into her writing as smoothly as a swimmer dives into water.
A knock sounded on her door. Rayne surfaced from her fictitious country, wide-eyed and figuratively shaking water from her hair like coming out of a plunge in Seattle’s ice-cold Puget Sound. She snatched up her phone and checked the time. Seven-thirty. Who could be hammering on her door this early in the morning?
Shoving her chair away from her computer she peered through the door window’s lace curtain—the figure of a man. Her heart stuttered, then ramped up to triple time. “Matt?” she breathed. “What’s he doing here first thing in the morning?”