by Jane Toombs
Later in the morning she persuaded him to don what he thought of as the kangaroo pouch and, with Heidi in it, they took a short walk outside.
After lunch, with the baby asleep in the cradle, he decided to split some more firewood.
Victoria was alone in the house with the baby when the front door opened a crack and a woman’s voice called, “Yoo-hoo, anyone home?” Willa Hawkins’s wrinkled brown face poked around the edge of the door.
“Come in, please do,” Victoria said.
“How’re you doing, gal?” Willa asked, ambling over with her lidded wicker basket to peer into the cradle. “Cute little punkin.” She crossed to a chair near Victoria and sat down with the basket on her lap. “Told you I’d be over to check and here I am.”
“My shoulder’s better. I’m so grateful you were there to help me.”
“Healthy young gal like you should heal up right quick. Getting along with the secret man, are you?”
“My sore shoulder is forcing him to be a bit more outgoing. He’s actually learned to take care of his daughter.”
“Not up to taking care of you yet, though, I’d say. Going to take him a while. Got to be patient with men like him.”
Hoping Willa didn’t mean what it sounded like she meant, Victoria said somewhat stiffly, “We have an employer-employee relationship.”
“My eye. Any time a fine, healthy male and a pretty little gal get together, there’s bound to be more ’n that. Take your time. No need to rush. Better for the waiting, most always.”
“Willa, there’s nothing like that between us.” Victoria firmly changed the subject. “Can I get you some lemonade?”
“I’d like that. The babe’s got red hair, like you.”
“Steve’s wife had red hair.”
“Yeah, I know she’s not yours. Could be, though.”
Pouring lemonade from the pitcher into two glasses, Victoria was taken aback at her sudden surge of possessiveness triggered by Willa’s words. She wanted Heidi to be hers.
Impossible! But the impossibility didn’t defuse her yearning.
A yowl from inside Willa’s basket made her turn and look at the old woman.
“Bevins says it’s time to get out,” Willa remarked, opening the lid.
A black-and-gray-striped kitten climbed from the basket onto Willa’s lap, then leapt to the floor. Tail up, he sauntered into the kitchen and sniffed cautiously at Victoria’s ankle before rubbing against her leg.
“Oh. my,” she said, reaching down to pick him up. “I didn’t realize the kitten was in your basket.”
As Bevins climbed onto her shoulder to survey his new surroundings, the back door opened and Steve walked in.
“What in blue blazes is that cat doing in here?” he demanded.
Chapter Five
In the cabin’s main room, Willa stood up and faced Steve. “Bevins is here to rid you of the mice, Mr. Henderson. Not to harm your daughter.”
Steve stared from her to Victoria and back. “Bevins?”
“A banker I knew years ago wore a striped gray suit much like the kitten’s coat,” Willa said. “His name was Bevins.”
Steve waved a dismissive hand. “You can’t bring a cat near a baby.”
Willa met his angry glare with calmness. “Why ever not?”
“Babies are helpless. Can’t protect themselves against being scratched or bitten. Or worse. It might get on her chest and suffocate her.”
“He, not it, Mr. Henderson. And cats don’t suffocate babies. Victoria’ll second my telling you cats sucking a baby’s breath is old wives’ superstition. As for the rest, ’twould be simple to teach Bevins the cradle is off-limits, but I’ve changed my mind about leaving the poor critter with an ignorant man like you.” Willa headed for Victoria who was still holding the kitten.
Bevins leapt off Victoria’s shoulder onto the kitchen table, down to a chair, then the floor and streaked across the room and through tl:e shed between the main room and the back door, left ajar by Steve.
Willa fixed Steve with a stern gaze. “‘Tis clear the kit wants to stay, so ’twill be up to you to bring him back to me.” She nodded to Victoria, turned her back on Steve, marched to the front door, opened it and was gone.
“Interfering old woman,” Steve muttered.
Watching him, Victoria said, “She’s right about one thing—cats don’t suck anyone’s breath.”
“Never said they did. But I still don’t like the idea of a cat in the same house with the baby.”
“Actually, he isn’t. He’s outside the house. And he’s only a baby himself, too young to be out there with no protection from wild animals.”
“With any luck he’ll follow Willa home.”
Victoria raised her eyebrows. “Unlikely.”
“Damn it. I refuse to be made to feel guilty about that kitten. I didn’t ask for him.” As Steve spoke, it occurred to him he hadn’t asked for Heidi, either. Somehow fate had chosen to inundate him with helpless little creatures.
He wouldn’t admit it to Victoria, but he knew he’d have to find the kitten-Bevins, what a ridiculous name, sounded like a butler—before nightfall or he’d worry about its safety.
“I’ve been thinking about getting a dog while we’re here,” he said abruptly. “Wouldn’t hurt to have a watchdog around.”
“What about when we leave? Do they allow pets in your town house complex?”
He shook his head. They didn’t. He hadn’t gotten that far along in his planning. He was confident no one could learn where he was but the idea of a dog had come to him when he’d held Heidi to feed her. He was determined to keep her safe. Dogs were extra protection, just in case. With a dog tied outside, he’d have fair warning of any intruders, if the worst should happen. Not that he expected it to.
“I could take Bevins when we leave here,” Victoria said, “but there’s a no-dog rule at my apartment complex.”
“We haven’t yet found Bevins,” he reminded her. “As far as the dog goes, it’d serve Willa right if we gave it to her as a farewell present. A dog in exchange for the cat.”
She smiled slightly. “So we’re keeping the kitten after all?”
He wasn’t thrilled about it. “Do you honestly think he won’t harm Heidi?”
“Kittens and babies have existed together for centuries. In my entire career as a nurse I never saw any infant injured by a cat. Children, yes, because they interact with cats and tend to get scratched—usually not seriously. But I’ll certainly watch out for her safety.”
He nodded, convinced she would. He’d watched Victoria with the baby. She treated Heidi with more than merely good nursing care; he detected a loving fondness. Almost as though she were the baby’s mother. Which she wasn’t—any more than he was Heidi’s father.
He left the cabin to search for Bevins but found no trace of the kitten. Victoria asked about putting scraps of meat out to attract him but he vetoed that, telling her food left outside was likely to attract a bear.
Darkness came without them locating the kitten. Steve tried to convince himself and Victoria that Bevins had, after all, followed Willa home. Or maybe the mother cat had come looking for him and led him back there.
“I hope you’re right,” she said dubiously.
As he gave Heidi her evening bottle, he marveled at how she cuddled into him as he held her, her blue eyes examining him gravely as he fed her.
Yes, he’d get a dog, even though they were safe enough here. He wasn’t a man to be careless of details, but he might have overlooked something. A dog would be an extra security measure.
The next morning, after helping Victoria with the baby, he waited until Heidi settled down for a nap before saying, “I’m driving into Aylestown. Anything you need?”
“Milk and fresh fruit,” she said. “Also, we have to find a Laundromat soon. There’s a limit to how much I can hand wash.”
“Next time,” he promised.
After another sortie into the woods around the cabin failed t
o turn up the kitten, he drove down the steep, winding road, thinking about how easy it was to have Victona around. She wasn’t afraid of stating her opinion, often opposite to his, but she didn’t start foolish arguments. Or flounce off in a snit. In short, she was about as unlike Kim as she could be. If only he wasn’t so damned attracted to her—a complication he hadn’t figured in—their time up here in the mountrains could be restful and relaxing.
In, Aylesiown, he made a phone call to the agency, telling them he was passing through on his way north because he was aware they’d ninpoint where he was calling from. He was on leave, they didn’t need to know his every move.
There was nothing new on Malengo,. He hung up and asked the store clerk if there was a nearby animal shelter.
“Nope. Nearest one’s at the county seat,” the man said. “You lose a dog, mister?”
“Why?”
“On account of we got a stray hanging around here. No collar, don’t belong to nobody in town, must’ve been left here by some tourist. You. maybe?”
Steve shook his head.
The man shrugged. “Too bad. Ain’t nobody willing to take him in. We all got enough dogs of our own. Sure you don’t want him? He’s healthy enough.”
Why not? Steve asked himself. It would avoid having to drive the miles to the county seat plus having to give a false name and address at the animal shelter.
“Where is he?”
“Out in back somewheres.”
Behind the store, Steve viewed the multicolored medium-size dog with a critical eye. Strange-looking beast—pure mongrel. “Yo,” he said to the animal, holding out his hand.
The dog cocked his head, hesitated, then walked slowly toward him and sniffed at his fingers.
“Want to go with me?” Steve asked.
The mutt wagged his tail.
“Come on, then.”
Without hesitation the dog followed him to the van and leapt inside when he opened the door. When he stopped for groceries and canine supplies, the dog stayed inside. As Steve emerged, he watched a couple of teenagers on in-line skates stop by the van. The dog growled at them and they took off.
“Good boy,” he told the mutt, patting its head as he climbed into the van. If the dog was already protecting the van, he’d accepted the responsibility of looking out for his new master’s property. Weirdcolored mongrel or not, this animal was exactly what he needed.
When they got back to the cabin, Victoria took one look at Steve’s new acquisition and began to laugh. The dog promptly licked her hand.
“So he’s a mutt,” Steve said.
“He looks so comical with that spot of black over one eye and the yellow one over the other. It’s as though a committee put him together for a joke.”
“He needs a name.”
She fondled the dog’s ears, one of which stood up while the other lay down. “How about Joker?”
Steve smiled. “Perfect.”
He fed Joker, put a new collar on him, then rigged up a post and tied the dog in back of the cabin. He and Victoria were eating supper when they heard scratching at the rear door. Steve frowned.
“That dog shouldn’t be able to reach the door,” he muttered, getting up.
Victoria watched him stride over and fling open the door. In trotted Joker, a rope trailing from his new collar. In his mouth he carried something. She drew in her breath as she recognized the limp form of the kitten. Was the poor thing dead? she wondered. Swerving around Steve, who was trying to grab the rope, Joker made a beeline for Victoria, laid the kitten in her lap, sat down and looked expectantly at her.
Very much alive, Bevins shook himself, hissed at the dog and climbed onto Victoria’s shoulder.
“You don’t look like a retriever,” she told Joker, patting him, “but I guess you must be.”
Grinning, she glanced at Steve who was shaking his head. When he caught her eye, they both began to laugh.
“All we need now,” he said finally, “is a bowl of goldfish.”
She knew he meant to complete the picture of the ideal family—mother, father, child, cat, dog—and goldfish. Instead of being amused, though, the thought sobered her. Not only were they not a family, but the baby wasn’t hers. And neither was Steve. Not that she wanted him.
“Maybe we should let Willa know Bevins is okay,” she said.
“She’ll find out soon enough.”
Victoria blinked, “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t think she left us alone for good, did you? She’ll be back.” His tone was resigned.
“I like her,” Victoria said defiantly. “I don’t see why you’re so unfriendly.”
He shrugged. “Wait’ll you see her other pets.”
“What pets?”
He didn’t answer, reaching for Joker’s rope. The dog forestalled him by scooting sideways, then padding over to the cradle where he peered in at the sleeping baby, sniffing carefully. He then lay down beside the cradle, put his head on his paws and closed his eyes.
“You certainly got yourself a guard dog,” she told Steve.
Two days later, Willa returned, as Steve had predicted. By now, if she was careful, Victoria could use her arm quite normally and had resumed taking care of Heidi. When Willa came inside the cabin, Victoria was just putting the baby down for a nap. Bevins was already asleep atop a cushion on the raised hearth. Steve was somewhere outside.
“See the mister got himself a dog,” Willa said. “Critter growled at me till he got told I was a friend.” She smiled slightly. “Figured the mister didn’t much like lying to the dog.”
Victoria couldn’t help smiling back, though she did try to compensate by saying, “Steve has hermit tendencies.”
“Got ’em myself,” Willa said “Wouldn’t be living on top of a mountain otherwise.” She eyed the sleeping kitten. “How’s he working out?”
“He’s formed a truce with Joker—that’s the dog and with Steve, but I don’t think he’s chased any mice.” She went on to tell how Joker had found the kitten and brought it to them.
Willa nodded. “So your only problem now is the mister.”
Victoria started to deny this, then thought better of it. Willa went her own way no matter what anyone said.
“Trouble is, the man’s unhappy,” the old woman went on. “Not from grief, no. It comes from deep down, from the spirit. I suspect he never learned to be happy. Must be why you’re here—to teach him.”
Victoria shook her head. “I’m here for the baby.”
“She don’t take all your time.”
“No, but that’s my job—caring for her.” Victoria rose, eager to switch to another subject. “I’ll make some tea.”
“Tea’d be nice. Be nice if you got over your own problem, too. Men are men but some ain’t so bad’s others. Don’t do no good to compare one to another.”
Victoria was provoked into saying, “I’m not!”
“Good. You got to take each one as he is. Find a way to open mister up, so’s you can tell if he’s worth your trouble—that’s my advice.”
“It’d take a specialized surgical team to open that man up,” Victoria muttered. Still determined to deflect Willa, she added, “I hear you have other pets besides the cats.”
Willa raised her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t call ‘em pets, exactly. ’Tis how I make a living. Come over and visit sometime and I’ll show you.”
“Thanks, I’ll try to do that.”
“The mister had Joker a long time?” Willa asked.
“No, he just got him.” Victoria told her about the dog being a stray in the town below. “He wanted a dog and Joker was conveniently available.”
“Never brought a dog to his cabin before. You folks expecting trouble to follow you up here?”
Victoria laughed. “Of course not. I put it down to a new father’s protectiveness. Joker must sense that ’cause it’s clear he feels his job is to guard Heidi.”
Willa shook her head. “With the mister closed up so tight, ’tis hard t
o tell.”
Later, after the old woman left, her words echoed in Victoria’s mind. Steve was closemouthed, no doubt about that. Not that she believed he was worried about anyone bothering them—except for Willa. He certainly did value privacy. But Victoria would like to learn more about him. Was he basically an unhappy man or was Willa way off base there?
That evening, with the baby settled, Joker sprawled beside the cradle and the kitten batting around a small ball of string Victoria had found in the pantry, she waited until Steve settled himself on the couch.
Not giving him time to pick up his book, she eased down beside him, taking care to leave a good space between them. “If we had the right ingredients, I’d make fudge,” she said. “That’s what my best friend and I used to do when we were teenagers and I spent the night with her. Her parents never cared if we messed up the kitchen.”
Her plaintive tone caught Steve’s attention more than her words. “I take it your parents weren’t that easygoing,” he said.
She sighed. “When it came to her house, my mother placed cleanliness above anything else. Since I’ve gotten older. I’ve decided maybe it was because that’s all she could control. My dad was an alcoholie”
Despite himself, Steve’s interest was piqued. He’d pigeon-holed Victoria as more together than most women. Yet she’d come from what must have been a dysfunctional family. He wondered if she’d had to grow up alone.
“Any siblings?” he asked.
“I had a sister two years older.”
“Had?”
Victoria bit her lip. “She disappeared when she was thirteen.”
Her distress made it evident she’d never gotten over it. “Never found?” he asked.
She shook her head. “My mother didn’t ever give up hope Renee would come home someday, even though the police felt the most likely scenario was that she’d been abducted and killed. My dad—” she paused and took a deep breath. “He got worse—so abusive, my mother finally left him. Two years ago she sent word he’d died.”
He controlled his impulse to comfort her by putting his arms around her. She might misunderstand. “Bummer,” he muttered. “Compared to you, I had an ideal home life.”