Cat's Paw

by Mollie Hunt

  “Shut up!” I snapped, then took a deep breath, recited a short version of the serenity prayer—‌Serenity. Courage. Wisdom. “Shut up or don’t. I don’t care. You can lie there yelling to the stars if you want to.”

  Crystal snuffled into shocked silence. “Who are you?” she finally managed.

  “I’m Lynley Cannon. Your friend, Mrs. Fox, asked me to help her get you to your room. You, uh, fell asleep at the Roundup.”

  She gave me a blanker-than-blank stare. In the glow of the lamp light she looked like a black-eyed owl.

  “You don’t remember, Crystal dear?” Mrs. Fox interjected.

  The empty eyes swung to her friend.

  “What are you talking about?”

  I was quickly getting oh-so-tired of this woman’s attitude. After all, who knew more about drunken bullpucky than a former drunk? Kneeling beside her, I leaned close and whispered into her ear, “Crystal, you may not know me, but I’m here to help. So is your friend, Mrs. Fox. So please quit swearing at us and let us get you home.”

  That usually works: the blending of courtesy and intimidation stops the drunk in their tracks and triggers a more civilized response. Not Crystal, however. In a split second, she grabbed me by the front of my tee shirt and pulled me into her face.

  “Don’t you dare tell me what to do! What do you know? Nothing, that’s what!”

  With a great shove she thrust me away.

  I stumbled.

  I slipped.

  I fell.

  * * *

  Cloverleaf Animal Sanctuary was built on an island formed of rock. The pathway from the dome to the cabins followed the edge of one of the clefts. The track was wide and a post and chain fence was strung on both sides. Beyond the fence was another several feet of flat before the actual cliff side. Only a total klutz or someone being pushed with great force could find themselves in peril.

  Crystal had managed such a push.

  Before I could do anything but flap my arms like a fat city chicken, I was going down. I did a flip over the chain that I knew would produce Morse code bruises on my back, then a slip-slide that left arm skin on the white granite gravel. Since I was facing downward, I could see what was coming, the edge of blackness, the lip of the void. I scrambled like a cartoon character treading air, with as much effect. I squeezed shut my eyes, felt a bolt of pain that started at my head and spread in an instant. By the time it reached my shoulders I was out cold.

  Chapter 9

  “For he will do

  As he do do

  And there's no doing anything about it!”

  ―T.S. Eliot, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats

  It was my turn to wake up and not know where I was. I like to think I handled myself with much more deportment than the potty-mouthed Crystal Holt, but then I was in a bed in a quiet room, where she had been manhandled down a dark gravel path...

  The path! I remembered. The fall. Had I actually gone down that cliff face? Was I in a hospital? Was I dead?

  I moved to sit up and was immediately struck by lightning. I could feel the electricity blast into my skull and make its way throughout my body, burning as it went. Collapsing back onto the pillows, it was all I could do to breathe.

  “Lynley?” a soft voice spoke. “Oh good. You’re awake.”

  The smiling face of a stranger came into view. “It’s best if you don’t try to move too much,” she said. “You had a blow to the head and received a very slight concussion. You lucked out; the impact didn’t break the skin. You should be fine in a little while.”

  Slight? I wondered. Because I still felt like I was going to die. Instinctively my hand moved to my scalp where I found a wet shank of hair and a bruise about the size of a golf ball. Okay, maybe it was only a robin’s-egg, but it hurt something awful.

  “What happened?” I mumbled, barely recognizing the weak mewl as my own voice.

  “You slipped on the pathway to your cabin and fell over the edge a little way. Luckily Mrs. Fox came along right behind you. If she hadn’t been there to help, you might have fallen even farther down the hill.”

  “Mrs. Fox? Behind me?” No, there was something wrong with that statement. Mrs. Fox had been with me. We had been taking Crystal to bed. Crystal was the one. “...pushed,” I gasped.

  “Mrs. Fox?” The medic laughed. “Of course she didn’t. You just fell. It happens sometimes on the uneven ground. City folk aren’t used to it, especially the elderly.”

  I let the comment slide. “No, not Mrs. Fox. Crystal Hoyt. Crystal pushed me.” I spoke slowly and enunciated to the best of my ability, but even to my ears, it sounded like garble.

  The girl gave a worried look off to the side. Someone else was in the room. A moment later, Simon Bird came over and took my hand. “You need to get some rest, Lynley. We’ll talk about this when you’re feeling better.”

  I wanted to protest. I started to protest, but the hip-hop in my head was too loud, the bass turned up too high. With a sigh of resignation, I followed Dr. Simon’s orders.

  * * *

  The next time I woke, I felt better. No more hip-hop, just a little light jazz at the back of my mind. Slowly, I sat up, a bit at a time as if climbing stairs. One stair, two stairs—‌still okay; three, four, five and I was high enough to view the room around me. I was alone. I guess they had decided I wouldn’t pass on in my sleep. The windows were pale with the promise of coming dawn which put it at about 5:30 in the morning.

  I sat up a little farther. Nice as the sick room was with its neutral walls and wildflowers by the bedside, I’d really rather be back at my own cabin. Was Emilio still there? Had anyone cared for him while I’d been gone?

  The thought of the big midnight-hued boy still pining for his dinner was the impetus I needed to get me all the way up. I swung my legs over the side, waited for a wave of dizziness to wane, then stood. It wasn’t too bad, no worse than an ice-cream headache and certainly not as incapacitating as the hangover Crystal Hoyt would be nursing right about now.

  Next step, my clothes. I could see them across the room, laid out tantalizingly on the chair. They seemed to sway a bit, chanting Na na na-na na, can’t get me.

  “Oh, yes I can,” I said out loud and pushed off the mattress toward the little monsters.

  Walking was no problem; I only had to stop once to catch my breath. Finally at my destination, I sat heavily. Now my jeans and tee shirt were underneath me, but I had to rest. I’d be up in a moment. Emilio or bust!

  The door opened a crack and then all the way as a young man in blue scrubs entered. He looked at the bed, then around the room and finally to the chair where I hunkered in my hospital gown like a wayward child.

  “I’m fine,” I said defensively.

  “Great!” he replied, much to my surprise. “Mind if I have a listen?”

  He held out a stethoscope and smiled, big white teeth in a dark brown face. A nice face. A friendly face. I decided what the hay.

  “Go for it. But I warn you, I’m going back to my cabin. I have a cat there who needs me.”

  Again the smile. “Sounds good. Can’t keep those kitty cats waiting.”

  * * *

  Joseph was his name. He had checked me out, given me something fizzy to drink, and offered to escort me home. I took him up on it, since why not? I was finally beginning to feel okay but that feeling had taken its sweet time to come about.

  Once at the cabin, Joseph fed Emilio who was still there and waiting, though judging from the tin in the sink and the spotless litterbox, someone else had been in to tend to him at least once during the night. I guess it was a good thing I hadn’t had a chance to use my new key.

  Joseph asked if I needed anything, then departed, reminding me to take it easy.

  “Emilio,” I said, sinking onto the bed. I patted the covers beside me and up he hopped, me-rrowing and cooing and making me feel ever-so-welcome. Surrendering to the comfort of the pillows, this time from relaxation rather than necessity, I spent the next space of tim
e in blissful furry mindlessness. Emilio did his up-down gig a few times, then composed himself beside me, his loud purr lulling me into a restful sleep.

  I heard the bell. From far away, the deep resonating tones called me. Not just me, of course, but the whole of Clover Island. In my semiconscious state, I recognized the meal summons. Breakfast, I assumed, since there was no formal lunch at Cloverleaf. Again time warped around me, the hours between my fall and now, as ambiguous and indistinct as tapioca pudding. Yum, tapioca pudding! I realized I didn’t care what time it was; I was hungry, and somewhere out there was food; my new mission in life was to get it.

  I needed to change first and definitely take a shower. Being injured makes one smell. A mix of fear-sweat, body fluids, and tincture of hospital. I couldn’t go anywhere until that reek was banished by lots of hot water and soap.

  Giving Emilio a final pet, I stood up.

  Then I sat down again.

  I waited for the stars to quit whirling around the galaxy of my brain. I realized I might have to rethink breakfast. I might have to rethink the whole day.

  There was a soft knock on the door and I turned. Through the window I could see the figure of a man. At first I thought it might be Simon. My friend, Simon, coming to check on me. My dear college buddy, who would put everything else aside to see on how I was doing. But even as I looked, I could tell it wasn’t Simon Bird; the build was wrong. My heart sank, and suddenly I felt very alone.

  The knock repeated. “Lynley?” came a tentative voice. “It’s Nathan. Nathan Shore. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And bring you some breakfast,” he added.

  “Coming,” I called, making another clumsy attempt to rise. “Or, come in. It’s open.”

  The knob turned and the young man entered, bearing a tray with a covered plate, a bowl, a glass of juice, and a mug that, from the aroma, had to contain coffee.

  He placed it on the small bedside table and stood self-consciously, a goofy smile playing across his youthful face.

  Nathan’s presence came as a complete surprise. Though not especially shy, he had been one of those persons who had made little impression upon me. Medium height, medium build, sandy blond hair on the longish side, and nondescript features. During the sessions he hadn’t volunteered anything about himself nor expressed any opinions. I had written him off as humdrum or possibly conceited. Now I was going to have to reassess. His smile was nice and the food smelled wonderful. Thank goodness someone had been thoughtful enough to bring it to me.

  “Oh, thank you. I was wondering if I was going to make it to Wolf Hall. Did Simon send you?”

  He shuffled. “Well, no. Not really. When you didn’t come to breakfast, I asked where you were. Mrs. Fox told me you’d had an accident but she figured you’d be home by now.” He shrugged. “I just thought you might be hungry. If you’re not, I can take it back.”

  “No,” I said quickly. “It’s perfect. Thank you again.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence, then he said, “Well, I guess I’d better go. Is there anything else I can do for you first?”

  “No, Nathan.” I paused. “Well, yes. If you have a minute?”

  “Sure, Lynley. No problem. What do you need?”

  “Have a seat,” I offered. He sat as obediently as a trained pup, which at an animal shelter is not the insult it might be elsewhere. In fact, I thought his canine willingness to please a strange lady twice his age was rather sweet.

  I picked up the coffee. Holding it between my palms in addictive reverence, I arranged myself on the bed. “I’m a little hazy about what happened to me last night. What did Mrs. Fox tell you exactly?”

  “Oh, nothing much. She just said you’d fallen and got quite a bump on the head. Those paths can be pretty treacherous,” he added.

  “Those paths are as smooth as a baby’s bottom and safe as any city sidewalk,” I countered. “Probably safer. Did Mrs. Fox describe how this accident happened?”

  “She didn’t see it. She only found you after the fact.”

  “Or so she says,” I muttered.

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing, Nathan. I just have to gather my thoughts. This coffee will help.” I took a drink, then another; hot and crisp, it did help.

  “Do you know what’s on the program for today?” I asked, switching subjects. Why Mrs. Fox had lied about the fall was something I’d have to figure out, but later when my brain had quit bouncing around in my skull like a cat ball. “I’m not sure I’ll be up to it all, but at least I want to try.”

  Nathan deflated. “I didn’t bring my schedule with me. Sorry, Lynley. I can run back an get it if you like.”

  “No, I must have one somewhere.” I glanced around the tiny room, and sure enough recognized a corner of the saffron packet pricking out from beneath my sketchbook on the desk. Nathan’s eyes followed mine. He pulled out the folder and handed it to me. I flipped through the pages, the introduction, the welcome, the map of the grounds. My vision blurred. I blinked, but the blur remained.

  “Can you find it for me? My eyes are still a bit fuzzy.”

  Nathan took back the packet. “Sure, Lynley. You drink your coffee and I’ll read it to you.” He picked a glass of citrus juice off the tray and handed it to me. “Might want to have some of this too,” he said with a smile. “Fluids are good for you

  For a moment, I studied him, then I took the glass. With the addition of the smile which was sincere and maybe a little playful, his face wasn’t nearly as plain as I had first thought. If he cleaned up that scruff of three-day beard and combed his hair, he might even be a bit handsome.

  “...and after lunch, we hike up the mountain for ‘Meditation at the top of the World’.”

  I realized I’d been wool-gathering. “I’m sorry, what were the things before that? I’m afraid I spaced out.”

  Nathan gave me a quizzical look, then repeated, “First is the opening exercise session. Approximately twenty minutes of Pilates. I think it might be too late for that,” he interjected.

  “No loss. I couldn’t do Pilates right now if I were paid.”

  He nodded. “Then at ten o’clock, we draw in the cattery. Are you up for that? I can help you if you like. Walk you down there.”

  “No, I think I’m okay. I want to eat this nice breakfast you took the trouble to bring me. And I need a shower. I think I’ll be fine. But thanks for offering. And thank you again for the food. It was very gallant of you.”

  Nathan blushed, then being a bright boy, took the hint. He stood and laid the folder on the table next to the tray. “No—‌thank you,” he said under his breath. “I mean, it’s a pleasure to help.”

  He turned and left, skipping down the steps, whistling a tune that sounded like a bar from the musical Cats.

  Chapter 10

  Cats lack sweet taste receptors on their tongues, but some companies still add sugars to their foods. Be sure to check food labels for added sweeteners like glucose, dextrose, fructose, sucrose, and corn syrup. ‘If it’s sweet, do not eat’ (if you’re a cat).

  I did a half-hearted clean-up, kissed Emilio goodbye, and left. I didn’t lock the door because now that I had the key, the need for it had miraculously diminished in importance. The cattery complex wasn’t far and the trek was all downhill. I noted as I walked the path, retracing my steps of last night, that it was meticulously groomed and flat as a pancake. The only thing to stumble over was my own feet, which I tried very hard to avoid.

  Breakfast and a shower had revived me to my usual quasi-energetic self. My head didn’t hurt unless I put direct pressure on the bruise which I found was easy to avoid once I got over the self-conscious fear that it stuck out like an off-kilter unicorn horn. I was looking forward to drawing in Cats. I’d never been good at drawing my feline loves but one thing Simon had drummed into us from the start of the sessions was that results didn’t matter –‌what mattered was the thought and action it took to get you there.

  “Hey, Lynley,” a young female voice
saluted from behind me. I turned to see Nancy French and Jane Knot, sketch books in hand. I was glad the two of them had paired up. Nancy seemed a little lost on her own.

  “Hi, Nancy, Jane. On your way to Cats?”

  “Absolutely!” said Jane. “Cats are my favorite thing in the whole world.”

  “Mine, too,” I smiled as we fell into step together.

  “I heard you hurt yourself,” Nancy said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I snipped. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound rude. It’s just that...” I paused. Did I really want to get into it again? Did I fall? Was I pushed? Was someone lying or was I going crazy and having hallucinations of the mind?

  Nancy and Jane waited for me to finish. “It’s nothing. Sorry,” I repeated. We walked the rest of the way in silence.

  Cats was actually a warren of buildings, some tiny, containing only a handful of felines, and some as large as a house. These held a combination of individual kennels for those who didn’t play well with others and colony rooms for those who did. The main door entered into a lobby where visitors congregated for their tour of the facilities and where we students were set to meet. I’d seen it in passing but this was my first time inside and I was instantly overcome by its beauty. The airy room was sun-filled and fresh, the walls alive with murals of cats. I couldn’t help but stand and stare, and I noticed I wasn’t alone.

  I felt a touch on my arm.

  “Oh, there you are,” I said rather stupidly.

  Simon pulled me aside. “Are you alright? I meant to get by to check up on you this morning but it’s been exceptionally busy since... well, you know. Busy.” He shrugged.

  “I’m fine, Simon. Everybody’s been really nice. But I do have some concerns. First of all, someone’s spreading the rumor that I fell on the path. I didn’t fall. I was pushed. On purpose. I mean, I don’t mind if you want it hushed up for the general population, but really, Simon, something needs to be done. People can’t just go around shoving other people off cliffs and not be considered dangerous.”