Melange

by Kristy Tate

  “I told you.” Lizbet came to investigate. All the dead leaves made her wonder how long it’d been since the tree had been watered. “Where do you think he’s living?”

  Declan shook his head and climbed to his feet. “But we’re getting distracted. We want to catch Godwin—not a mouse.”

  For apparently no reason, Rufus gave a short bark.

  Lizbet frowned at the dog. “I could bring over Tennyson,” she said slowly.

  Rufus barked again.

  “Your cat?” Declan asked.

  She lifted a shoulder. “He’s a good mouser.”

  “Forget about the mouse!” Declan ground out.

  “I can’t forget about the mouse,” Gloria piped up from her perch on the sofa. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight knowing there’s a mouse in the house.”

  “Godwin breaking into the house while we’re gone doesn’t bother you, but a mouse does?” Declan asked.

  “Let me bring over my cat,” Lizbet said.

  “Are you afraid of mice?” Declan asked.

  “No, not at all,” Lizbet said. “But I get how your mom feels.”

  “We need a locksmith, an exterminator...” Gloria ticked items off on her fingers.

  “An exterminator?” Lizbet sounded squeamish. “We just need to catch it, not kill it.”

  “Well, then what are we going to do with it?” Gloria asked, horrified.

  “Release it into the woods?” Lizbet suggested.

  Gloria sucked in a deep breath. “It will just come right back and, for all we know, bring back a crew of its mice friends with it.”

  “I’ll take him with me to the ranch. He can live in the barn. It’s safe, warm, and there are a lot of other mice to keep him company.”

  Gloria studied Lizbet. “It’s a mouse. It’s not like we’re looking for a retirement community for him.”

  “I’m sure he’d rather live there than be exterminated!”

  Declan brushed his hands together. “I’m calling a locksmith.”

  Gloria lifted her chin. “I’m calling an exterminator!”

  Rufus barked.

  “I guess I’ll take the dog outside.” Lizbet patted her leg. “Come on, Rufus.” She led him outside, but stayed close to the house. Declan and his mom’s voices floated out the window.

  “Your girlfriend...” Gloria began.

  “She really likes animals,” Declan cut her off. “That’s not a bad thing.”

  “Any virtue taken too far will become a vice,” Gloria said.

  “As far as I know, she hasn’t taken to raiding animal shelters or joined any animal activists.”

  “How can you eat a hamburger in front of her?”

  Declan laughed. “I didn’t criticize you for marrying Godwin.”

  “You’re not going to marry her, are you?” Gloria’s voice rose in panic.

  “I’m not marrying anyone anytime soon.”

  “That’s good. And for the record, you absolutely did criticize me for marrying Godwin.”

  “And was I right or was I right?”

  Lizbet peeked in the window, hating herself for eavesdropping, but unable to pull herself away.

  Gloria sniffed. “You were right...for once.”

  Declan put his arm around his mom’s shoulders. “I wish, for your sake, that I’d been wrong. I didn’t like him, but I had no idea he would turn out to be so...”

  “Evil?”

  “That’s a harsh word.”

  “He tried to kill you!”

  Declan shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. If he had really wanted to kill me, he could have. I think he was trying to scare us off.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know.” Declan kissed his mom’s cheek. “If he turns up, we can ask him.”

  “Assuming, of course, that he’s not taking potshots at us,” Gloria said darkly.

  The late spring sun shared the sky with a daytime moon. Rufus rooted around the foundation of the house, sticking his snout into the bushes and beating the shrubs with his tail.

  “Smell anything?” Lizbet whispered.

  “No,” Rufus woofed.

  “He’d better show himself before the exterminator gets here,” Lizbet said. “Did you hear that, mouse? Gloria’s going to get an exterminator!”

  Squee!

  Rufus’s ears perked up. He lunged into a rhododendron bush. Lizbet grabbed his collar and yanked him to the lawn. “Sit!”

  The dog sat, quivering.

  “Let me talk to him,” Lizbet said. She headed toward the rhododendron and Rufus followed. She wheeled on him. “Stay!”

  He slunk back to the grass and flopped down.

  “Come here, mouse,” Lizbet coaxed. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  Squee!

  Lizbet dropped to her knees and peered into the flowers. A small brown mouse quivered against the brick wall, his whiskers twitching like a fluttering leaf. “Ah, there you are!”

  “Can you really take me someplace safe to live?” the mouse squeaked.

  Lizbet nodded. “You’ll be happy there. I can’t promise you anything if you stay here.”

  The mouse flicked his tail toward the house. “That woman, will she really hire an exterminator?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Lizbet edged closer. “You’ll have to trust me. Hiding here won’t be good enough. I don’t think she’ll stop until you’re found.”

  The mouse trembled, shaking the rhododendrons. Lizbet held out her hand. The mouse inched forward.

  Rufus barked and the mouse bolted up Lizbet’s sleeve.

  “Lizbet?” Declan asked.

  She climbed to her feet, trying to ignore the mouse scampering up her arm.

  “What are you doing?” Declan asked.

  “I caught a mouse.” Lizbet held her arm out in front of her like a battering ram. “He ran up my sleeve.”

  With his mouth ajar, Declan watched the mouse-sized lump move inside Lizbet’s sweater. He shook himself. “Why aren’t you freaking out right now?”

  “It’s a mouse, not a barracuda.”

  “But, ick.”

  “What’s going on?” Gloria stepped out onto the back porch.

  “Lizbet caught the mouse,” Declan told his mom. “It’s in her sleeve.”

  Gloria’s eyes widened, the blood drained from her face, and she fell back against the wall. “Ew!”

  “I know!” Declan scratched his head. “It’s obviously bothering us much more than her!”

  “He can’t hurt me!” Lizbet shook her arm until the mouse landed in her outstretched palm.

  Gloria shrieked.

  Even Declan took a step back. “Don’t mice spread the plague?”

  “That was rats, about six centuries ago.”

  “Rats, mice, same thing,” Gloria said.

  Lizbet stopped herself before she rolled her eyes. “Can you take me home?” she asked Declan.

  “Is the mouse going in my truck?” Declan asked.

  “Yes,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Let’s just flush it down the toilet,” Gloria suggested.

  Lizbet curled her fingers around the quivering mouse and tucked him into her pocket. “That won’t work. He’ll just come back.”

  “Not if he drowns!” Gloria said.

  “I can’t believe you just said that.” Lizbet, burning with righteous indignation, turned to Declan. “I’m walking home.”

  “Lizbet!” He came after her.

  She shook his hand off her arm. “I need time alone,” she said, without looking back at him.

  SHE WAITED UNTIL THEY were out of the city to start grilling the mouse. “You better tell me what you know, or I’m leaving you in the cat sanctuary.”

  “Cat sanctuary? Where’s that?”

  Good question. Lizbet thought for a moment. “It’s also called Pearl Lee’s Fish House.” It was one of her grandmother’s favorite restaurants and every time they’d been there, she’d always seen half a d
ozen stray cats loitering in the alley, waiting for fish bones.

  The mouse trembled. “I don’t know anything!”

  “Tell me about when Godwin came to visit.”

  The mouse remained silent.

  Lizbet followed the sidewalk to a bridge over the Melba River. She drew the mouse out of her pocket and held him by the tail above the raging water below.

  SQUEE! He wiggled like a fish on a line.

  “Now do you remember Godwin?”

  “I don’t know which one is Godwin! All of you people look alike to me!”

  Lizbet considered this and thought he might be telling her the truth. She had a hard time telling crows apart, but she knew the crows could easily distinguish human faces. Crows, though, were probably more intelligent than mice. Or, at least, this one.

  “Godwin is a big man with black hair and a widow’s peak.”

  “Widow’s peak?” the mouse squeaked. “What’s that?”

  “It’s...oh, never mind. Did you see a tall dark man at the house a couple of days ago? Or just any men...”

  When the mouse didn’t answer, she began to swing him over the rail.

  “Yes!” Squee. “There were two men.”

  “Two? What did they look like?”

  “One tall and dark, one blond.”

  “Interesting. What were they talking about?”

  “The blond man wants to kill the woman and boy. The dark-haired man just wants them out of the way.”

  She tucked the mouse back into her pocket and resumed walking, although more slowly as she thought. “I thought Godwin was the bad guy. Now you’re telling me there’s someone worse?”

  “I didn’t say that,” the mouse squeaked from her pocket.

  “Of course you did.”

  “Don’t put words in my maw.”

  Lizbet tried to tamp down her frustration. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that her anger wasn’t only with the mouse, but a portion also belonged to Declan, his egocentric mother, and the entire situation.

  “Why do you talk to animals?” the mouse asked, surprising her.

  “It’s funny, I was just wondering the same thing.” She thought for a moment, wishing she could remember the first time she’d held a conversation with an animal, but it was impossible. It was like trying to recall her first step or the appearance of her first baby tooth.

  “Do you know any other humans who can talk to animals?” the mouse asked.

  “No. Do you?”

  “No.”

  They walked in silence while Lizbet tried to round up her circling questions. “All the other animals can communicate with each other—dogs, cats, pigs. What I mean is, you all make different sounds and yet your communication is flawless. It’s not like the goats speak goat and horses only speak horse, so why is it humans can only talk to humans?”

  “Except for you,” the mouse pointed out.

  Lizbet scrunched her forehead in thought. “Do you really think I’m the only one? I find that really hard to believe.” She scratched her head. “There’s this movie, Dr. Doolittle, it’s about a veterinarian who talks to animals.”

  “Are you a veter-whats-it too?”

  “No. I’d have to go to a lot of school for that.”

  “So a veter-person does more than talk to animals?”

  “They take care of hurt or sick animals. I’m pretty sure most of them can’t talk to animals... Well, they can and probably do, but they can’t understand what the animals say back.”

  The mouse snorted. “It’s gotta be hard to help someone if you can’t understand them.”

  “True, but suffering does seem to be a universal language.”

  “You should be a veter-person.”

  “Like I said, it requires a lot of schooling.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t know...” The truth was, school scared her. She’d never actually gone to school before, while almost everyone else started as little kids. The thought of signing up for eight years of schooling to become a veterinarian terrified her. She didn’t know if she could pass a simple math class, let alone advanced chemistry or biology. Even though being a veterinarian did seem like a natural fit for her.

  “Do you think being able to talk to animals is hereditary?” the mouse asked.

  “No. My mom and grandmother both like animals, but they can’t talk with them.” She stopped herself. “But my mom isn’t my biological mother. I keep forgetting...my real mother died when I was young. I can barely remember her. It is possible, I suppose.”

  “How about your dad, then?”

  Lizbet shook her head. If her father was Godwin, as she suspected, then she knew he was such an awful person, he’d never be able to talk to animals. He wouldn’t have the empathy. Suddenly, the need to know about her family—her family of origin—tickled the back of her mind like an out-of-reach itch. She had to learn all she could about her mother, Rose. She had to know if Godwin was really her father, or just an abusive bully Rose had become involved with. She longed to know where Rose was from, who her ancestors were, and just anything she could find.

  “Where are we?” The mouse peeked his head out of Lizbet’s pocket when she stopped to open the gate leading to the front walkway.

  “This is Godwin’s house. You’ll be safe here. The house is empty.”

  The French Chateau cast long shadows over the grass. The windows were dark and empty. She wondered if Godwin was there. It looked deserted, but looks, she knew, could be deceiving.

  Squee! “I thought I was going to a ranch with a barn occupied by a host of other mice!”

  Lizbet followed the brick path around the back, passing a sadly neglected rose hedge. The lawn also needed attention. Who would care for the house and yard now that Gloria had moved out and Godwin was on the run? “I need someone to tell me if they see Godwin! If he went to the Forsythe’s house, I’m sure he’ll try to come back here, too. And if he does, I need you to keep watch and tell me what you learn.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because if you do, you can come and live in my grandmother’s barn.”

  “I want cheese.”

  “Cheese? Really?”

  “And not just any cheese. Good cheese! Like Gouda or Munster.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Lizbet muttered.

  “When can I expect it?”

  They arranged that Lizbet would come by every day either before or after work, then she set him down on the back porch. “Are you sure you’ll be able to find your way inside?”

  “Easy peasy,” the mouse said as he scampered off.

  Everything the power does, it does in a circle.

  CHAPTER 5

  Declan parked his truck in Elizabeth’s driveway right beside his dad’s truck. Awkward. It flashed through his mind that his dad might harbor similar feelings for Daugherty as Declan had for Lizbet. So weird. Of course, Daugherty wasn’t Lizbet’s biological mother, but still... He really hated thinking of either of his parents as anything other than his parents. He tried to shut down any speculation on his mom or dad’s sex life. Sure, maybe they had to take care of their bio needs, but...ew.

  This was sort of like him and his dad dating best friends, but worse, because Lizbet and her mom were closer than any best friends he knew of. And the thought of the two of them ever comparing notes on how he or his dad kissed sent his creep-o-meter skyrocketing. Declan leaned his forehead on the steering wheel and tried not to wonder what his dad was doing. Obviously, he was there to see Daugherty.

  Declan liked Daugherty. Of course, the whole isolate-yourself-on-a-deserted-island-for-twenty-years thing was super strange, but he couldn’t really blame her since she’d had amnesia. Or had she? What if Rose, Lizbet’s real mother, had been giving Daugherty ginger root tea? It was possible, right? No one really knew what this Rose person was like. Or even who she was.

  Declan sat up and braced his shoulders. He’d come to talk to Lizbet. He hated how they’d ended their last
conversation. When he felt at odds with Lizbet, he felt at odds with the world in general. She had looked so disappointed in him, and he wasn’t even a hundred percent certain why. The mouse. She couldn’t kill the mouse. She would rather carry it in her pocket for three miles and find it a good home.

  Admirable, but...crazy, too.

  And she’d seen him kissing Nicole—or more accurately, Nicole kissing him. He was turning into a seething mess of disappointment, and he hated feeling like he’d let Lizbet down...again. And again.

  He had to talk to her. When there was a wrinkle in their relationship, his whole universe was full of ruts and potholes. Leaning back, he closed his eyes. But he didn’t want to try to talk to Lizbet while his dad was hanging around. Because when he said he wanted to talk, what he meant was he wanted to kiss. He preferred kissing to talking and if Lizbet would kiss him, that would mean she’d forgiven him. And he didn’t want to kiss Lizbet in front of his dad.

  A voice.

  He looked out the window. Lizbet stood by the split-rail fence chatting with a horse. The Arabian shook his head as if he understood everything Lizbet was telling him.

  Wanting to hear the one-sided conversation without interrupting it, Declan quietly slipped from the truck.

  The horse spotted him, whinnied, and shook his mane at Declan. Lizbet looked over her shoulder. Something flashed over her expression, but it was so fleeting, he couldn’t catch it. Frustration? Disappointment? Anger?

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at the ground as he walked. The gravel scrunched beneath his feet. “Hey,” he said, looking up at her, trying to read her reaction.

  She touched his arm. “I’m sorry I walked out on you like that. Your mom...”

  “She wanted to kill the mouse.”

  Lizbet nodded.

  “I love that you’re such a softie.”

  She studied him. “You don’t think I’m weird?”

  “Oh yeah.” He grinned.

  Pain flickered across her face.

  “That’s a good thing,” he assured her. “You are...unique. Like a snowflake.”

  “I’m like frozen water?”

  He nodded. “But not as icy.”