They were better than nothing.
A PLETHORA OF SOUNDS greeted Jilly as she approached Addie’s cabin. Concentrating, she separated them into mewling, snorting, barking. She turned the corner and walked into a remake of Dr. Dolittle.
Addie stood in the middle of her yard surrounded by cats and kittens, several dogs, ten chickens and a pig that seemed to really, really love her boots.
One of the dogs spotted Jilly and started baying as if he’d seen the moon. Floppy ears, short legs, loud mouth—he’d be a basset hound if his fur wasn’t the shade and length of a golden retriever’s.
Glancing up, Addie smiled and made her way out of the animal throng. One of the kittens was stuck like a burr to her skirt and swayed with her movements, mewling pathetically all the way.
“Jilly, glad t’ see ye. Got a few things t’ do yet. Have a seat.” She kicked an old cane-backed chair in Jilly’s direction, pried the kitten off her skirt and deposited it on the pig’s back. “Ye’ve caught me on critter day.”
“You’re a vet and a doctor?”
“I’m a healer. Don’t make no never mind to me if my patients have fur or not.”
She seized the pig’s snout, yanked it open and peered inside. “Toothache,” she pronounced, and grabbed a pair of pliers.
Jilly decided she really didn’t want to see the rest. She turned her head and came nose to nose with an…
“Opossum!” she shrieked, and jumped off the chair.
Her cry was drowned out by the pig’s squeal. When she glanced that way, all she saw was his tail disappearing into the brush, kitten still attached to his back.
Addie brushed her hands together. “He should be home in no time.”
“He’ll go home? Like a dog?”
“Pigs’r smarter than dogs, and Wilbur is smarter than most pigs. That’s why Mack brung him over. Easier to make ham than extract a sore tooth from a pig. But Wilbur isn’t just any pig. He’s a pet.”
“Does he stay in the house?”
“Only when it storms. He’s gun-shy.”
Jilly didn’t know what to make of that statement. What a storm had to do with a gun, and why a pig would be shy of them was beyond her attention span for this morning.
“What about the kitten? Will he come back?”
“He belongs to Wilbur. Mom cat got hit by a car. Wilbur took the babies as his own.”
“Pigs do that?”
“I never seen nothin’ like it before. But then, like I said, Wilbur’s kind of special.”
Something furry sidled along Jilly’s bare ankle. She leaped back, afraid it was the friendly opossum. His tail grossed her out. Instead, a baby raccoon started playing with her toes.
“Aw,” she said. “How cute.”
“He’s yours.”
“What? Me? No. I—I never had a—”
“Raccoon? They ain’t hard to keep. Friendly critters. Like to cuddle and purr.”
“Purr?”
“Yep. They make all sorts of sounds. And they’re loyal. I’d take a coon over a squirrel any day. Squirrels are flighty. Not much upstairs. Coons are smart as dogs. Just need to learn ’em to stay off the main road. Folks sometimes run over ’em on purpose.”
“I was going to say I’d never had a pet,” Jilly muttered, inching away from the insistent raccoon.
“No pet? Where’d you live, girl? Timbuktu?”
“My mother didn’t like animals.”
Addie frowned. “How could anyone not like animals?”
“You’d be surprised.” Sometimes Jilly had wondered if her mother even liked her.
“Now that you’re here, let’s get at it.”
“At what?”
“Dosin’ the chickens. I left ’em till last so’s you could help.”
“How did you know I was coming?”
“I just knew.”
Well, what did she expect from a woman who believed in ghosts? Jilly threw up her hands in defeat. “What would you like me to do?”
“Hold the chickens while I pour the dose down their beaks.”
Jilly eyed the filthy chickens scratching in the dirt. They smelled worse than…anything she’d ever smelled. “How about if you hold the chickens?”
Addie shrugged. “Suit yerself. That’s the best part.”
The rest of the morning and half the afternoon passed in a flurry of motion. After dosing the chickens, they gave the dogs a flea bath, although Jilly really didn’t see the point as the animals took off through the woods immediately after. Wasn’t that where they got the fleas in the first place?
Jilly thanked her lucky stars for the clothes Naomi and Ruth had brought. Most everything she spilled blended right into the gray shirt, and the cutoffs could be easily washed. Not having shoes worked quite well, too, since anything she stepped in was dissolved with a bucket of water from the pond.
She worked so hard, strands of hair came loose from the rubber band. She tucked them behind her ears and kept on going.
The cats needed deworming. The opossum had intestinal troubles.
“I thought opossums were for eating,” Jilly muttered as she tried to dump tonic into the frantically slashing snout of the animal Addie referred to as Peter.
“Shh.” Addie cupped her hands over little opossum ears. “He’ll hear you.”
Jilly rolled her eyes.
“No one really eats—” Addie gave Peter a pointed glance “—them. Anymore.”
“Who does Peter belong to?” Jilly asked.
“Me.”
“You have a pet opossum?”
“Why not? He’s quiet. Sleeps all day, carouses all night. Reminds of me of Matthew. How’s he doin’?”
“Pretty fine for a dead guy.”
“Death is only the beginning, Jilly.”
Jilly held up the empty bottle of tonic. “Looks like the end to me.”
“Don’t make light of what you don’t understand.”
“Sorry.” She met the older woman’s eyes. “You’re right.”
Addie gave a satisfied nod. “Where’d that coon get to?”
Jilly glanced down and found the adorable bandit asleep on her foot. Addie followed her gaze and grunted. “Animals sure take a shine to you. Amazing, since you weren’t around ’em much.”
“They like me?”
“Peter’s fussy about his friends. Not everyone could get that tonic in ’im. And Zorro don’t hold with strangers.”
Jilly took in the baby raccoon’s mask and chuckled.
“Lightning isn’t easy to get along with, either. He’s old. Decrepit. Cranky.”
“I’ll say. He’s tossed my clothes around the pasture twice.”
“Sign of affection in a horse.”
“He shoved me off the cliff and into the creek.”
Addie frowned. “Couldn’t have. Trail’s too narrow.”
“Well, somebody shoved me.”
“Or something.”
“Don’t start that again. How could a ghost push me?”
Addie shrugged. “Place is full of ha’nts. You wonder why the inn’s been empty for so long? Now you know. Most folks can’t stomach all the company.”
“I still don’t believe in ghosts.” When Addie opened her mouth to reply, Jilly added, “I know. I will.”
She glanced around the yard. Peter lay asleep under the chair, kittens scampering after his tail. Zorro had waddled off and was now washing his hands in the rain barrel. While the scene should resemble wildlife run amok, everything looked just right. Jilly felt an odd tug in the vicinity of her heart.
“You got plans for tomorrow?”
Jilly thought about her pathetic attempt at cleaning up the inn. She’d broken more than she’d fixed. She was a liability, not an asset. Nevertheless, if Evan needed her, she’d have to stay.
“I’m not sure,” she answered.
“If you can spare some time, I can use the help.”
“All right.”
“Hold on. Let me get your pay.”
<
br /> “Pay?”
“You don’t think I’d let you work for free, do ya?”
Jilly shrugged. Though she hated to take anything from Addie, she could use every penny she could get.
“Here.” Addie dumped a black kitten into her arms. “Enjoy.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHEN EVAN LOOKED back on that first afternoon with the Seitz brothers, he would forever remember it as The Three Stooges Go to Contractor School.
He’d planned to finish the electricity. Between pulling Barry out of a hole in the floor and Larry out of a pile of lumber he’d knocked over, plus yanking a bucket off Jerry’s foot, Evan got very little accomplished.
The only thing the brothers were any good at was cleaning up the messes they made. Like the window Barry broke when he put the broomstick through it, and the hole in the wall from Jerry’s fist after he stubbed his toe on Larry.
With a headache from the sound of their bickering pulsing behind his eyes, Evan snapped, “That’s it! Barry, you come with me. Jerry, clean the kitchen. Larry, sweep the parlor. Nobody works together in the same room anymore. Got it?”
Divide and conquer had been one of his mother’s favorite parenting techniques.
By midafternoon, they nearly had the electricity up and running. Barry was a decent assistant. His not knowing much meant he followed instructions without question. Though the old man couldn’t work alone and lessen the workload by half, he wasn’t expecting to be paid, either. A lot could be forgiven of free labor.
Barry started to fade around 4:00 p.m., but he kept going. The thuds and mumbles from downstairs stopped, which made Evan nervous.
“Let’s take a break,” he suggested.
“If you really have to,” Barry managed to answer, limping toward the stairs.
Evan followed him down to the first floor. “Go on out where it’s cool.” He indicated the front porch—where he could see Larry and Jerry collapsed in two chairs—with a jerk of his head. “I’ll get us all a beer.”
Barry’s eyes lit up at the word, and his step became more spry as he headed for the door.
The kitchen was immaculate, as was the living room. Evan glanced through the back window. The debris had been stacked in a perfect pile next to his pickup. Maybe the brothers weren’t so useless, after all.
He grabbed a six-pack from the cooler and joined the Seitzes, passing out the beer and taking a seat on the top step of the porch.
Lightning appeared, nuzzling first his arm, then nibbling at the top of a spare can.
“I don’t think so.” Evan whipped the beer out of harm’s way. “I plan on drinking those, and I don’t need horse germs, thanks.”
Lightning lifted his head and sneezed in Evan’s face, then turned and walked away with as much dignity as an ancient, swaybacked nag could muster.
“Guess he told you,” Barry said.
“I guess.” Evan lifted his T-shirt and wiped his nose. “Wait a minute. There’s Lightning. Where’s Jilly?”
“Haven’t seen her all day,” Larry replied, squinting owlishly around the empty field.
Not that Larry would see her even if she stood right in front of him. His glasses were forever perched on top of his shiny bald head. Nevertheless, Evan began to worry.
“When did the horse show up?”
“Not sure. He wasn’t here when we came, then bam, there he was.”
Also not very informative when coming from Larry.
An unpleasant thought filled Evan’s mind. He jumped to his feet and ran to the creek, but she wasn’t there. He even walked downstream, terrified he’d find her body snagged on a log or under a rock. When he didn’t, his fear increased. Maybe she’d been swept all the way to New Orleans. Why hadn’t he gone looking for Jilly as soon as he’d discovered her missing?
Because he wasn’t used to worrying about anyone but himself. And wasn’t that sad?
He ran up the hill and into the house, then stood there helplessly. There wasn’t any phone.
He’d been enjoying the quiet. No telemarketers, no calls from his mother or girls he no longer wanted to see. Suddenly the lack of a phone wasn’t enjoyable, it was downright life threatening.
Evan raced to the front door, leaped off the porch and came to a screeching halt in the yard.
“There she is,” Barry murmured.
The hush in his voice, the reverence, seemed to be felt by all of them as Jilly walked across the wildflower-strewn field.
Her hair was loose, flowing over her shoulders and down to her waist, like a river the shade of the setting sun. She wore a gray tank top and jean shorts so ancient they were nearly washed white. Both hugged her figure in all the right places.
Her legs were bare and seemed to go on forever before disappearing into the calf-high grass. As she came closer Evan saw that her nose was pink from the sun. Only the very tips of her hair remained caught in the rubber band, ready to tumble free at the slightest tug. His hands itched so badly to do just that, he rubbed them against his thighs.
In her arms she held a tiny black kitten. Dipping her head down, she whispered to it, and the kitten’s ears twitched. So did Evan’s. He wanted her to whisper like that to him.
Glancing up, Jilly smiled. “Hi.”
Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He opened his mouth; no sound came out. When he cleared his throat, the kitten started and tried to scramble away. She snatched it back and soothed the animal with murmured words and gentle hands.
“Where’d you get that?” he managed to ask.
“He’s my payment for helping Addie today.”
“You got taken, little lady.” Barry jumped up and so did his brothers. All three stared at the kitten as if it were the devil come to Arkansas. “That cat ain’t worth the bag you’ll need to drown it in.”
Jilly’s eyes widened, and she tugged the kitten closer to her chest, which appeared a whole lot larger than Evan remembered now that it was encased in worn gray cotton that was a size too small.
“You know dag blamed well you can’t kill a cat.” Larry smacked Barry on the back of the head. “That’s as much bad luck as the black cat itself.”
“What are you talking about?” Jilly demanded.
But the Seitz brothers were already hightailing it home.
“Addie mentioned something about black cats being considered bad luck around here,” she murmured to Evan. “I didn’t believe her.”
“Do you believe anything you hear?”
“Nope.”
Jilly took the porch steps two at a time, snagged a beer and collapsed into a chair. The kitten curled into a ball in her lap and promptly fell asleep.
“There are a lot of superstitious people in these hills.”
She popped the top on her beer. “Really?”
“Maybe you should take the cat back.”
In the middle of a huge gulp, she choked. The kitten opened one eye, glared at Evan, then closed it again.
A few moments of coughing and Jilly was able to speak again, though her voice came out a bit hoarse. “You’re superstitious?”
“Not really.”
“I’m not taking the cat back. Addie said he’s spooking the patients. She mumbled something about dumping him in Little Rock.” Jilly put a palm over the tiny black head. The kitten began to purr loudly enough to wake Matthew’s ghost, if it needed waking. “He wouldn’t last a day in the city.”
“I never took you for an animal lover,” Evan observed, thinking of her behavior with Lightning.
“I never had any to love.” She gazed down at the adorable ball of fluff. “Until now.”
The expression on her face reminded him of his sister when she rocked her daughter. His heart did a slow roll toward his belly as he imagined Jilly on this porch, rocking their child. The picture was far too appealing.
“I thought you didn’t believe in love.”
She snatched her hand away and stiffened. “I don’t.”
“But you said—”
“A
nimals can’t love, although I hear they’re capable of great loyalty. I could use a little loyalty in my life.”
She scooped up the cat and headed into the house.
JILLY WASN’T SURE what it was about the black kitten that made her want so badly to keep him. Maybe it was just that no one wanted him. She knew what that was like.
Most would say she’d been wanted all her life. Four husbands, each one adoring her. But they hadn’t wanted her. They’d wanted what she represented.
Youth. Beauty. A certain status.
The kitten didn’t know anything about such foolish concerns.
Evan followed her inside. “You’re looking for loyalty? Why?”
“Lasts longer than love.”
“Which doesn’t exist, according to you.”
“I’m not saying that people don’t believe they’re in love. They may even feel…something. But it doesn’t last. Which means it isn’t real.”
“And loyalty is?”
“Of course.”
She’d been loyal and faithful—a regular golden retriever of a wife. What had it gotten her?
Jilly glanced down at her bare feet, which were now gray with dirt and possessed an interesting array of cuts and bruises.
Barefoot. Down and out. That’s what trust and loyalty had gotten her. Well, it was time for someone to show her some loyalty, and if that someone was a kitten, she’d take what she could get.
“I tried to clean up in here, but I made things—” Jilly stepped into the living room and her eyes widened at the tidy expanse “—worse.”
“The brothers are the Three Stooges of contracting, but when it comes to cleaning up they do just fine.”
“I can help tomorrow.”
“Great,” Evan said, but he didn’t sound happy about it.
Jilly moved into the kitchen, also pristine, and rustled around, searching for something a cat would eat. She found a can of tuna, among other things.
“You went shopping,” she said.
“Someone had to.”
She winced. Was she completely useless in this partnership? “I could, if you let me use your truck.”
“I don’t mind.”
She set the kitten on the floor, where it promptly tried to climb her leg while she opened the can of tuna. “Hold your horses.”
A snort from the window revealed Lightning’s opinion of her comment. “You really need to put some glass in there,” she muttered.
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