He turned away and gazed at the far wall. There was a dry erase board that listed the name of his nurse and patient care assistant. An annoying smiley face was drawn next to the name of the hospital, in case he forgot that critical fact. The name of his doctor was carefully written, just a little larger than the names of the others and offset so as to stand out. After a full minute, he looked at me again.
"Thank you, Petra. I'm grateful and will, of course, look for another place as soon as I'm up to full speed again." His hands clutched at the thin, cotton blanket that stretched from his toes to his chin. "I don't have many things, and we can just put it all in storage."
"We'll work that out later," I said, standing. The nurse named Mitzi hovered in the doorway, her hand on her hip as she waited for me to conclude my summit. I could tell she was in a hurry and in no mood for me to stand around yakking. Plus, Philo wanted to visit Fitzhugh, too. With a little wave of my hand, I left that room which seemed to echo with memories of past successes as well as tragedies. I was happy Fitzhugh was not in the latter category.
I stopped briefly to tell Philo of my invitation and was immediately irritated at his gaping, open mouthed response of astonishment. Why would that be so hard to believe, I wondered? Did everyone find me to be an unchanging stick in the mud? Knowing I'd left Peter with the two lupines confined in the cramped interior of the SUV for much too long, I hurried back outside and spied them waiting just beyond the patient pick up zone. Peter gunned the motor slightly and glided to my location, the vehicle's motor softly purring. Despite the cheery sun, it was cold outside, my breath creating a little fog as I exhaled, so I quickly jumped in the SUV, appreciative of the fact Ford manufactured really good car heaters.
"So, you invited Fitzhugh, Juno and Lily to move in with us?" Kipp asked, prodding the back of my neck with his big nose. His breath was warm and wet, and I felt a little trickle of moisture roll down my flesh to disappear beneath the collar of my sweatshirt.
"Yes, and I have no idea how we will all cram into my house, but we'll figure it out somehow," I replied, trying to keep the spirit of optimism alive and kicking. "We'll transform the study into a spare room." Reaching back with my hand, I curled my fingers beneath Kipp's neck and allowed myself to enjoy the texture of his thick fur. For a moment, my fingers burrowed deep before beginning a gentle combing of his pelt.
"I'm fine with it," he remarked, huffing slightly. "You tend to spend too much time alone anyway; Fitzhugh will be there to kick your backside and keep you on your toes."
That wasn't really what I'd had in mind but realized an offer was an offer, so I drifted off into a self-imposed trance of relaxation as Peter maneuvered the vehicle amongst traffic on the way to my house. Within a half an hour, he was handing me my duffle, since I drew the line at allowing him to carry it inside for me.
"If you're free, maybe you could help me and Philo figure out what needs moving over here and what I need to store?" I smiled at the young man who seemed relaxed now that we knew Fitzhugh would live to see another day.
"Sure," he nodded. Without a word of complaint about all the driving and the fact our expedition which would have strengthened his bond to Elani had been disrupted, he got back into the SUV and disappeared down my street, taking the turn towards Technicorps.
Kipp and I stood on the front porch for a moment, gazing out at our little world. With a well practiced gesture, Kipp stuck his big head under my hand, asking for an ear rub and a scratch in that difficult to reach place between his ears. The character of our household would change, but maybe that was a good thing, I reasoned. Kipp just listened to me think. He was right in that I was much too comfortable in my predictable ways. Things were about to be disrupted, and in a big way.
Chapter 8
"What on earth are you eating for breakfast?" Fitzhugh asked, as he strolled into my kitchen, his worn leather house shoes making a loud, dragging noise on the wooden flooring. Leaning over my shoulder, he stared at the two objects resting on a paper napkin that was unfolded and spread on the surface of the dinette table. "What is that?"
"These are Pop Tarts which rank alongside the best breakfast foods ever made," I replied saucily. "They are fortified with vitamins and minerals," I added, pointing at the back of the box which listed all the attributes of the beloved tart. Just to prove my point, I broke off a corner and delicately nibbled on it while I sipped my coffee.
He mumbled something not meant for my ears, and had I been an undisciplined telepath, I might have eavesdropped in order to start a fight. Kipp looked up at me, smiling in his lupine way. He and Juno were resting in a diffuse patch of light that spread like an open fan across the kitchen floor. They had already eaten and were satiated, along with Lily, who was stretched out between Kipp's massive paws. He'd been grooming her with his tongue, and she was still damp, her fur spiky and drying in chaotic waves reminiscent of when human women used Dippity Do and hair pins to create pin curls.
Actually, other than the few times when Fitzhugh acted as if he thought he was my mother, we settled in quite effortlessly. Of course, I was at work all day and would come home to find him resting with Juno at his feet, often asleep in his chair with a book splayed open across his lap.
Between Philo, Peter and me, we managed to relocate my heavy desk into my bedroom, leaving only a couple of small bookcases in what had been a study. On one bright, cool day, Philo borrowed a friend's truck, and we moved Fitzhugh's bed, a desk and his favorite chair, which was an old, battered Lazy Boy with a no nonsense metal frame that made it weigh more than Gibraltar. As the three of us struggled to get the chair around a tight corner, I muttered a vicious oath as my knuckles were scrapped raw on a door frame.
"Watch that mouth," Kipp ordered, his tail wagging with support. "No opposable thumbs," he added, "Or I'd help."
"Where've I heard that before?" I grumbled. Philo and Peter only laughed, and we finally managed to shove the old chair past the doorway and set it up by the window where Fitzhugh could read if he wished. The rest of his sparse belongings were placed in storage until he found a permanent home.
"Why'd you agree to this if you're gonna complain all the time?" Kipp asked, folding his rear haunches up under his body as he tilted his head towards me.
I decided to plop down into the recliner; despite the cool weather, I was hot, my face beaded in sweat. With one hand, I pushed back my hair which had escaped from a braid. Looking up, I saw that Philo and Peter were both waiting for me to answer Kipp, since it was obvious he was challenging me with that amber colored stare of his.
"I really don't know," I began, taking a deep breath. Gazing at the floor, I saw a cavalcade of dust bunnies in retreat, disturbed from their slumber by our activities. A good housekeeper I was not. "It just seemed the right thing to do at the time," I grumbled, using my toe to squash one of the dust balls.
"I know why," Philo commented. "You feel affection for Fitzhugh despite all claims to the contrary. You care about him."
I shrugged my shoulders dismissively, ignoring Peter's laugh. The three of us got back to work and within the hour had the room ready for occupancy. Kipp even managed to drag a small, round woolen accent rug from the front room so that Juno would have a cushy place to rest her arthritic bones.
That was then, and I guess, in retrospect, we managed the transition with relatively few bumps. I was accustomed to living solo, just me and my symbiont. Having a house full of other beings was an adjustment. Per Philo, as soon as Fitzhugh was able to come back to work and had regained his usual level of vigor, Peter, Elani, Kipp and I would continue with our collective business of learning and teaching.
"Do you want me to fix you something?" I asked awkwardly, looking up at Fitzhugh.
"I'm having raisin bran, which is much better than that piece of fake pastry you are eating," he replied.
I'd noticed he had a favorite cereal bowl, one I'd found at a junk shop. It was an old piece of vintage blue Fiesta ware with a tiny chip off the base but still
a pretty token from a past time. Kipp, as usual, was hovering in my mind. Lately, he was given to projecting a large question mark that floated like an overinflated balloon in the occipital region of my brain. It was annoying, and I formed the picture of a large pin which I stuck in the balloon to deflate it. In response, he projected a large exclamation point. Kipp and I were overdue a serious conversation.
"When will the new library assistant actually start work?" Fitzhugh asked, after he'd swallowed his first spoonful of cereal.
I rose and put on the kettle, thinking he'd like a pot of Earl Grey. We'd brought his tea service from his home, careful to not damage the delicate china pieces. Lily rose and began to do figure eights between my legs, depositing cat hair freely on my sweatpants as I danced in unsuccessful avoidance.
"Well, she's been involved in orientation and human resources stuff, so I haven't met her but hear she is doing okay so far," I replied. "She's older than Peter and less likely to chase adventure. And the gossip is that she's obsessive compulsive to the point of tedium and that helps with library work." After I said it, I turned to look at him, realizing how rude I'd sounded.
"Yes, you're quite right," he said. "And one of the reasons you do such a poor job is that you lack that quality."
Bam! Yes, he'd scored another direct hit. But I knew by now that such remarks were a part of how he showed his affection. I raised an eyebrow at him, while managing to remain silent. Leaving him to his cereal, I went to my room, Kipp trotting after me, to get ready. Fitzhugh was on medical leave, but I was not. With the usual care given to my wardrobe, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. It was cool outside but nice walking weather, nonetheless, so after donning a jacket, I stuck my head in the kitchen to say goodbye.
Juno, although not on medical leave, had been deployed to stay with Fitzhugh until he could work again. She was still resting contentedly in her little patch of sun; her fur seemed a little faded and lacking the typically cautious, meticulous grooming seen in lupines. I told myself that I would give her a good brushing when I got home. Fitzhugh lingered at the battered kitchen table, leaning forward as he stared at something in the local paper. Many people had gone to the internet for news or watched the television, but Fitzhugh still liked to read as did I. He was wearing delicate half glasses that I'd not seen before. Impulsively, I walked in and leaned forward to give him a little kiss on the cheek.
"Bye, honey," I said, smiling. "See you this afternoon after work," I continued, trying to sound like a happy member of a stereotypical family, like June Cleaver telling Ward goodbye–and check on the Beaver and Wally while you're at it.
"Okay, sweetheart," he rejoined, shocking me to my core. He grinned broadly, something rarely seen. Juno looked up and smiled, her tail thumping on the wooden floor. Fitzhugh had beaten me at my own game! But in any case, I needed to go. Kipp ran ahead, wagging his tail, impatient to feel the cool air on his face and body. He almost knocked me down as we exited through the front door.
"Trying to get out before Lily figures out I'm leaving and wants to follow me," he said, panting with the effort.
We started along the sidewalk, beginning the two mile trek to Technicorps. The weather forecast predicted rain later in the week, but for now it was lovely. November was right around the corner; the colors of October were fading. The air was thick with the fragrance of dying leaves, and my feet made a whooshing sound as they pushed through the leaves that had already fallen to the earth below, dotting the sidewalk in the carefree pattern of nature. Kipp saw a squirrel dart across our path no more than three yards ahead; he made a false move just to watch the squirrel dart away in alarm and scamper up a tree. From a low branch, it paused and turned to noisily scold us as we wandered past.
"Sometimes, I just like to mess with their little heads," Kipp confessed, his eyes bright as he glanced up at me.
"How do you think Fitzhugh is doing?" I asked, wanting Kipp's opinion which would be unvarnished. "You've been doing this annoying thing lately of sending me question marks rather than thoughts." Narrowing my eyes, I stared at him.
He sauntered ahead, and if I wasn't mistaken, he assumed a little swagger to his walk. Deliberately, he blocked his thoughts from mine and sent back, instead, a series of punctuation marks, all bobbing like helium balloons, careening around in my brain until I almost felt dizzy.
"Kipp, stop that!" I shouted mentally. "You're gonna give me a headache."
He turned and quickly returned to my side, his shoulders slumped in contrition. "I'm sorry, Petra. I was just trying to be funny."
I knew he never intentionally tried to aggravate me; there was too much love and the most he would do was to push the limits of playfulness. Reaching down, I ruffled the fur on the top of his head and scratched the underside of his chin. Nothing unpleasant ever lingered between us for more than a second. Bonded symbionts couldn't manage that sort of thing because of the nature of our connections.
"In answer to your question," Kipp continued, "I think Fitzhugh is doing well. I wondered how it would go, since he's a loner like you, but he seems comfortable and well adjusted. For a while, I saw something unusual, almost like a color around his chest area, but that seems to be fading."
"What did you see?" I asked, curious, since I'd never heard him speak thus previously.
He tilted his head and gazed upward, as if he was trying to accurately visualize the memory. The air was crisp and dry as we walked along; a brisk northerly wind disturbed the fallen leaves, herding the fallen soldiers into little groupings caught up, helplessly, against the concrete curbs. Ahead, a wind devil spun up, the leaves scratching against one another as they whirled into a mini funnel that charged down the street before veering off across a vacant lot.
"As I looked at Fitzhugh," Kipp explained, "it was as if there was a watercolor-like washing of red and orange on his chest where his heart would be." He looked at me again. "Do you think I created that in my mind?"
Kipp's talents were like ancient and valuable treasures, revealed to an unsuspecting world at unpredictable intervals. I took nothing he told me lightly, since many things had proven to signal untapped skill sets lost to the rest of our kind. Could we see pain and illness in waves of color?
"Have you seen it before?" I asked.
He paused before nodding his head. "Yes, I saw it in Claire when she was grieving over Silas." Kipp's eyes became slightly unfocused. "She became blue-gray, as if all her flesh lost the usual color."
The thought of Claire and Silas brought me, selfishly, I suppose, back to my own pain. It was during the search for Philo and Claire's son, Silas, that Kipp and I went back in time to Victorian England. Fate would have it I met a human man who fell in love with me and for whom I felt love in return. My hand reached for the dainty pearl necklace I wore almost constantly. Had the tiny pearls gained the famous luster because of being in contact with my flesh, or was it that when I looked at them I thought of Harrow and they became beautiful?
"I see a little color in you, now," Kipp said, his words soft and gentle in the back of my mind. "When you've looked like this before, I think you were sad."
With an effort, I pushed the lingering thoughts behind me and deliberately hastened my pace. Today, I was supposed to meet Fitzhugh's new assistant and try, with Peter's help, to get her oriented to her job at Technicorps. No one believed Fitzhugh would be out for long, but it would be nice to have a competent person at the wheel so that he would feel less of a burden. Kipp, caught up in the spirit of my new focus, began to play a game with me where he deposited a word from the title of a famous novel, and I was supposed to guess the remainder of the title. I was doing pretty good but objected strenuously to his using "The" as one of the words, leaving me to guess the remainder. It was patently unfair and not in the spirit of true sport.
When we arrived at Technicorps, Kipp peeled off to the learning lab where his class of young lupines waited. After ducking my head in Philo's office to give him a quick update on Fitzhugh, I jogged
down the staircase to the basement, enjoying the feeling it gave me to rev up my heart rate a little. I'd not run since Fitzhugh came to live with me and realized I needed to get on a normal schedule again. Pushing open the door to the library, I inhaled deeply, hoping to catch a little of the familiar fragrance of bergamot, but instead caught a whiff of coffee, strong and darkly mellow, floating from the back kitchenette. Well, I thought, it was silly to expect things to be unchanged. Chiding myself for my own rigidity, I called out a cheery hello and started through the stacks to the back office. Halfway there, I almost literally ran into a female, about my height, wearing a dark, tailored suit, unexpected pantyhose and severe black pumps on her small feet. It was mildly shocking to see such formality at Technicorps, where an easygoing atmosphere prevailed. Only when Philo was promoted did he begin to occasionally wear a tie, although that accessory was typically discarded by mid-morning, thrown carelessly over the back of a chair.
"Hello," the female said in greeting, brown eyes staring at me over a pair of tortoiseshell reading glasses.
If I'd had to guess, I would think she was roughly half my age and quite pretty beneath the glasses that were too heavy for her oval face. Her thick brown hair was pulled back and contained in a severe knot at the nape of her neck. I was rather in awe, since I'd never been successful in taming my hair with any style or contraption. She shifted a sheaf of papers from one arm to the other and stuck out her right hand.
"I'm Margaret Shelton," she said, smiling. "You must be Petra."
"Guilty, so I hope you've heard only wonderful things about me," I replied, taking her hand.
We did the female shake, not too wimpy but also not too heavy to the point of seeming as if we were about to arm wrestle. She invited me back to share coffee in the kitchen, and I followed along, already missing Fitzhugh and his proper, antique tea service but trying to be open to new people and new ways. Change was always difficult for me–an odd admission for a symbiont to make.
The Great Locomotive Chase, 1862 Page 8