Meow and Forever

by Patricia Fry

  “I’ll just sit here with him,” Michael said. “Maybe he’ll forget about the clown.”

  “Naw,” Iris said. “I think Baboo had better go change. We don’t want to stress Teddy on his special day. Come on, Baboo. Let’s go find Craig, shall we?”

  “I’m sorry, Iris,” Savannah said. She patted Craig on the shoulder. “You make a wonderful clown. I don’t know why this upset Teddy so much. I guess he’s led a sheltered life. He’s never been around a clown.” She frowned. “Wait, his jack-in-the-box is a clown, and it still gives him a little scare-thrill when it pops out.”

  “Yes,” Margaret said. “Maybe that’s what’s going on in his head. He thinks little Jack has turned into a giant clown that’s going to attack him or something.”

  “It’s okay,” Craig said. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Sorry it didn’t work out.” He put his arm around Iris. “Let’s go wash my face. I don’t know how you women wear this greasy stuff every day.”

  By the time Craig returned in his street clothes, Teddy had opened a few gifts and seemed to have forgotten about the clown. Craig got Savannah’s attention. “Hey, I think your cats want to be closer to the action.”

  When Savannah saw Rags and Glori tugging to join the others, she untethered them and led them to where she’d been sitting. She gave them some slack, and while Rags simply lay at her feet, Glori walked toward where Teddy sat and began exploring the wrappings. Several guests snapped pictures of Glori peering out from inside a colorful gift bag. Meanwhile, Rags sauntered up to a little wagon, climbed inside, and sat as if he were waiting for someone to take him for a ride.

  “Those two are a kick,” Alicia’s twin sister, Jenna, said.

  Her mother agreed. “They’re characters.” When Barbara saw her grandson and a couple of the other children playing with the two cats, she added, “Maybe I should have cats at the day care. The children seem to enjoy interacting with them.”

  “It might work,” Savannah said, “with the right cat or cats.”

  “I don’t know,” Margaret countered. “Cats and kids aren’t always a good combination.”

  “How so, Maggie?” Barbara asked.

  “Kids might not watch where they’re going and will step on a cat or tumble over it. The cat might not understand it was an accident and defend herself with claws. Some children haven’t been taught about animals and can be abusive—you know, they consider a cat a toy they can kick around. And some cats can be quite unpredictable, just like some children, I guess. Right Vannie?”

  Savannah nodded. “Like I said, you really must have the right cat for something like that, and a lot of supervision.”

  “Well, scratch that idea,” Barbara said. “As if the children don’t keep me busy enough.”

  By five o’clock the gifts had been opened and the piñata had been broken, and the candy and small toys picked up by eager children. A few guests had said their good byes when Michael approached Craig with Teddy in his arms.

  “Well, hi there, big boy,” Craig crooned. “I’m sorry you didn’t like my clown-self.” He looked at Michael. “Who knew?”

  “Maybe next year,” Michael suggested. “We’ll expose him to clowns in the meantime. He’ll probably love you next year.”

  “Naw,” Craig said. “I don’t think I want to spread that greasy stuff all over my face again and climb into that god-awful hot costume with all those ruffles. Nope, that was a one-time thing for me. Someone else can take over the job next year.”

  Michael chuckled. “Well, it certainly was a good effort. You could actually go on the road. You made a darn good clown.”

  Craig grinned, then turned more serious. “Say, what’s this I heard about Rags being fed something? You had to x-ray him?” “Yes. As it turns out, I don’t think he ingested anything. Savannah just panicked there for a minute.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well yeah,” Michael said. He glanced in Savannah’s direction. “Didn’t she tell you about it? Someone called earlier in the week wanting to buy Rags, and it kind of upset her.”

  “Didn’t she just tell him no?” Craig asked.

  Michael nodded. “But I guess he was pretty persistent. He offered her two thousand dollars.”

  Craig let out a low whistle. “Did he say why? What does he want with the cat?”

  “No,” Michael said. “We don’t have a clue. That’s why Savannah started thinking that he might have swallowed something valuable, and that guy wants the cat simply to retrieve whatever it is. She’s pretty frightened.”

  “I imagine. But you didn’t find anything, right?”

  Michael shook his head.

  “So he just called that once?” Craig asked.

  “Yes. Then today Maggie said someone came to her house looking for us. I guess he thought that’s where we live. Maggie got the impression he was looking for Rags.”

  “Well that’s strange. Say, Michael, is your alarm system working?” Craig asked.

  “Yes, and we secured the wiring in metal, like you suggested, so no one can easily cut it. Also, the alarm rings into the sheriff’s station now.”

  “Good job,” Craig said. He looked sternly at Michael. “I want you to set it every time you leave the house. And it wouldn’t hurt for Savannah to set it when the gals are here alone with the kids.”

  “Why, Craig? What do you know that we don’t know?” “Nothing. Just based on what you’ve told me, I think Rags could be in danger, that’s all. Maybe not, but I’d sure like to find out who’s harassing you folks, and what his agenda is.” Craig thought for a moment, then said, “Michael, I want you to be extra diligent. I’ll tell this to Savannah and Gladys, too. I know Savannah is careful with Rags, but it sounds like everyone’s going to have to ramp it up.” He narrowed his eyes and looked into the distance. “Keep the cat close until we know what this is all about.”

  Michael scowled. “Well, I don’t like the sound of that, Craig.”

  “Sorry, buddy. Neither do I,” Craig said. “What’s important is protecting your family, right?”

  “Absolutely, Detective,” Michael agreed.

  Meanwhile, Savannah had joined the women. A few of them were looking at something over Margaret’s shoulder. Others sat around in front of her. They were all laughing. Savannah asked, “What’s everyone cackling about?”

  “Oh, Vannie, you’ve got to hear this,” Gladys said, moving over so Savannah could sit next to her on a bench.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Grandpa’s novel,” Gladys said quietly. “Maggie’s reading it. Shhh. Listen.”

  “I actually wonder if it’s more of a memoir,” Margaret said. She asked, “Gladys, doesn’t it sound like it takes place here in Hammond? And Grandpa did have some pigs. I don’t know if he was actually considered a pig farmer, but I remember him having pigs.”

  “Yes,” Gladys said. “There certainly are some familiarities in there, and it does sound like the story takes place here in Hammond.”

  “Read,” Brianna instructed. “I want to hear more. This is hilarious.”

  “And rather embarrassing,” Gladys said, rolling her eyes.

  “Embarrassing?” Savannah questioned.

  “Oh, come on, Mom,” Brianna said, “he sounds like a cool guy with a great sense of humor. Go on, Aunt Maggie.”

  Margaret read another few pages of the manuscript, then Iris shouted out, “Wait! Read that part again.”

  “What part?” Margaret asked. “You mean about the pig stampede?”

  “Yes, where he says something about a crack in the earth.” She asked across the table, “Rochelle, did you catch that? Listen to this.”

  Margaret read, “Herman walked the sows to his friend Duke’s place, where ole Doc Dalto was giving hoof trims that day. He planned to go around hell’s gate, but by the time he’d corralled all the sows, he was running late. He had to take the shortcut. Of course, he felt it again, and so did the sows. ‘There’s that dern blast from hell,’ he m
umbled as he and his trusty mutt, Ambrose, struggled to keep the hogs from stampeding.” Margaret looked up and asked, “That part? Is that the part you wanted me to read?”

  Iris nodded and addressed Rochelle, “The shortcut he’s talking about, as near as I can tell, is where I took you yesterday—where the vortex is.” She looked wide-eyed at Savannah. “They knew about it way back…” She asked, “Maggie, when was that written?”

  “Around, 1980, but the story takes place in the 1920s or thirties, as far as I can tell.” Margaret furrowed her brow. “What vortex, Iris? What are you talking about?”

  “On the path that runs alongside the inn,” Iris explained. “Doesn’t it sound like that’s the shortcut he’s talking about—you know, through the trees there?” She leaned forward and glanced at Gladys, then Margaret. “Didn’t your grandparents live out there somewhere before they bulldozed the old farm houses and developed those tracts? The inn—you know, the original old Kaiser place—is just about the only original home left in that area.”

  “Could be,” Margaret said. “There’s a vortex?”

  “Is that what you call it?” Jenna asked, looking from Iris to Savannah to Rochelle. “Have you felt it? It’s crazy weird, isn’t it?”

  “Yes!” Iris said bouncing in place. “Jenna, you’ve felt it? So it wasn’t our imagination. It really does exist.”

  “Well, I’ve felt something out there,” Jenna said, “and I’ve talked to others who have had similar experiences.” She looked at Margaret. “So your grandfather thought it was hell’s gate, huh? That’s an interesting perspective.” She shivered. “And a creepy one.”

  Iris looked at Rochelle. “If it was there eighty or ninety years ago, why isn’t it there now?”

  “It’s gone?” Jenna asked, wide-eyed.

  “It seemed to be gone yesterday,” Iris said.

  “So it comes and goes,” Rochelle said quietly.

  “What does that mean?” Iris asked. “Is it like a volcano that burps gases every once in a while?”

  “Perhaps,” Rochelle confirmed.

  “That makes sense,” Savannah said. “That, I can understand…sort of.”

  Iris muttered, “Well, I’m going to do more research and maybe spend more time out there.” When she realized the others were looking at her, she insisted, “I still think I can use that somehow to attract guests to the inn—people who want to recharge their batteries through energy directly from the earth herself—you know have a healing experience.” When no one responded, she said, “Well, it could work.”

  Just then Adam walked up and asked Savannah, “What’s your new cat doing—what’s her name?”

  “Glori,” Savannah said, looking where the boy pointed.

  “Yeah, Glori,” Adam said. “She’s pulling real hard on her leash, like she’s trying to…”

  Savannah leaped to her feet and hissed, “Where’s Rags?”

  “The big cat?” Karl asked. I saw some of the kids giving him a ride in the wagon.”

  “Yes,” Gladys said, quickly standing. “I was watching them. Then Maggie started reading.” She pointed. “There’s the wagon. Looks like the children are looking for him.”

  “Lily!” Savannah called. “Do you know where Rags is? Were you giving Rags a ride?”

  The four-year-old nodded. “He jumped out when we stopped to pick my baby tomatoes, and…” She shoved one hand into her pocket. “Want some baby tomatoes?”

  “Not right now,” Savannah said. “I want to know where Rags is.”

  “Maybe over there,” Jenna’s five-year-old son, Bradley, said, motioning toward the garden. “He jumped out over there.”

  Savannah trotted to where the boy pointed, and she looked around.

  “Where, Son?” Jenna asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Who untied him?” Michael questioned when he caught up with the others. “Wasn’t he tied up?”

  “He’s on his leash,” Simon said. He nodded to his left. “He got loose when Bradley’s dad moved his chair. Then he jumped into Teddy’s wagon.”

  Savannah put her hands up to her mouth. “Oh, that’s right, I looped his leash under the leg of that chair.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Cole said. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. I didn’t know that was your chair. No one was sitting there at the time.” She glanced around the yard. “Adam, would you go get one of those small packets of his treats, please?” She said to the others, “Everyone look for Rags. He can’t have gone far.” Suddenly she felt a lump in her throat. “Unless…”

  “Unless what?” Max asked.

  “Well, that man who came to your house. I wonder if he sneaked up and…”

  “Oh, hon,” Michael said. “Not with all of us watching.”

  “What about that guy who was allegedly looking for his dog?” Craig suggested.

  “What about him?” Iris asked.

  “Was he the man who came to your house, Maggie?”

  “Who?” she asked.

  Craig sighed impatiently. “The guy who came here a while ago looking for his dog.”

  “I didn’t see him,” Margaret said.

  “She was inside at the time,” Savannah explained. She looked at her uncle, “Max, you saw him, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, the guy who came looking for a dog. I didn’t get a good look at the one who was badgering Maggie. Naw, I don’t think it was the same dude, though. The dog-guy was dressed differently and had a lighter hair color.”

  “Well, he still could have found his way back here,” Savannah said.

  “Who?” Damon asked.

  “That guy who harassed my aunt earlier. Rags!” Savannah called. “Rags!”

  Adam returned from the house, running and calling for Rags while shaking the treat bag.

  “I think Glori knows where he is,” Michael said. “Let her show you. Look, she’s pulling toward the corrals.”

  “Okay,” Savannah said, taking Glori’s leash. “Let’s go get Rags. Show me where Rags is.”

  With an entourage of thirteen, including five of the children, Savannah followed along behind Glori as she led them toward where the horses were standing. “Did he come out here to see Peaches?” she asked. “Rags!” she called again. “Rags, where are you?”

  “Here, kitty-kitty!” Margaret trilled.

  “Raaags!” Adam shouted. He and Simon both bellowed, “Raaags! Here Rags!”

  “Where could he be?” Savannah said out of frustration. “Glori, are you sure you saw him come this way?”

  Simon pointed. “She wants to go to that little house.”

  “Little house?” Savannah repeated.

  “The tack room,” Adam clarified. “Yes, Glori wants us to look in there.”

  “It’s locked,” Michael said. “How would he get inside?”

  “Let’s humor Glori, Michael,” Savannah suggested. “Show us, Glori,” she instructed. “Where’s Rags?”

  The calico leaped up onto the landing around the tack room and walked to the door. She sat down, looked up at Savannah, and meowed.

  “He can’t be in there,” she said. “Rags doesn’t have a key.”

  When Michael joined her on the platform, he looked at the latch. “Well, I’ll be. It’s not locked. Did you forget to lock it this morning, hon?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I could have. It happens.” She faced him. “But Rags hasn’t learned to open doors yet, except those lever doors that used to be in our house.”

  She started to walk away when Michael said, “Maybe someone left it open a little, and he went in and somehow closed it.”

  “Oh, Michael…” she started. Suddenly she stopped and tilted her head. “Wait.”

  “What?” Margaret asked. “What did those super-human ears of yours hear, Vannie? The grandfather clock ticking over at Karl’s house?”

  Most of the others tittered.

  “No,” she said frowning. “I heard a cat. Rags!
” she called again. She opened the tack room door slowly, and to her surprise, out walked Rags. “Rags! How in the world…” She looked at Adam, then Simon. “Did you boys…”

  “No, we didn’t do anything,” Adam said. “I didn’t know he was in there.”

  “Why would they?” Michael asked.

  “I know. I’m sorry, Adam…Simon.” She glanced out at the younger children. “Do any of you know how Rags got in here?”

  None of them responded.

  Savannah handed Glori’s leash to Michael, then picked up Rags and looked him over. “How did you get in there?” she asked.

  Craig thinned his lips and stared out across the terrain. “Maybe he planned to come back for him.”

  “Who?” Margaret asked.

  “Whoever put him in there,” Craig barked, “which I presume is the guy who’s been badgering you and Savannah.” When he looked for footprints in the soft dirt something caught his eye. He leaned over and studied it, then used a clean handkerchief to pick it up.

  “What is it?” Colbi asked, moving closer.

  “A packet of some sort.” Craig studied it and said, “Oh, I guess it’s just your makeup remover pads, Savannah. Or…” he paused, stared into the orchard, and glanced toward the highway. “Or a woman found him wandering loose and locked him in there. Yeah, that’s about right,” he confirmed. “These fresh footprints are small—size seven-and-a-half or eight, I’d say.” He looked at Savannah’s feet.

  She shook her head. “Not ours. It’s been quite a few years since either of us has seen a size eight shoe, right Michael?” She looked at the boys. “But Adam and Simon have been out here.”

  “Wearing men’s dress shoes?” Craig asked. He crouched in the dirt. “Shouldn’t be hard to trace. You don’t see people wearing dress shoes anymore. It’s either sandals with almost no heel—you know, like flip-flops, or it’s sport shoes.” He grinned. “In fact, it’s kind of interesting these days to locate a bad guy by the pattern on the soles of his sport shoes. There are catalogs of those designs, it seems.”