Hyacinth

by Chris Keniston

  After yesterday’s incident, the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up. Her new dilemma: stay or go. She looked over her shoulder to her car, then in front of her at the door. She was being silly. Yes, the man obviously had some weird fetish, but she’d been perfectly safe yesterday afternoon and this morning, and just because he liked horror movies didn’t mean she couldn’t leave him a hot dinner. Gripping the knob, she heaved the door slowly open.

  In the same box on the table by his laptop, the kitten was sprawled out flat on its back sound asleep. Stepping quietly inside, she closed the door behind her and with no sign of Alan anywhere in the living area, and the kitten happily sleeping, she opted to leave dinner in the fridge and head back to Hart House.

  Rounding the corner into the kitchen, a bright light reflected in her face, stopping her short. What the heck? Blinking, she stepped aside and focused on the shiny object ahead. A knife. A sharp knife. Held high in the air. In Alan’s hand. Holy hell.

  Chapter Six

  A shrill scream nearly pierced Alan’s eardrum. Following through, he lunged the knife between two ribs as he spotted a stunned Cindy backing out of the cabin. “Wait! I can explain.” Grabbing a dry rag from the counter, he tore off after her.

  Cindy didn’t say a word. Her heel backed against the wooden threshold, tripping her onto the porch. Still holding onto whatever she held in her hands, she whipped around and darted down the stairs.

  For a small cabin, it took him nearly as long to get to the porch as it took her to fly down the stairs and fling her car door open.

  “I’m a mystery writer,” he shouted. He stood very still, hands at his side, hoping she’d heard and believed him. “I’m not a psychopath. I write books.”

  His repeated declaration must have registered in some way. One leg in the car, her other leg remaining firmly on the ground, she slowly turned to face him.

  “Cross my heart.” He drew an X across his breast shirt pocket. “It’s all for my books. Harvey, the roast, it helps with the details.”

  He supposed Cindy’s silence was a good thing. Though he’d rather have words, at least she wasn’t speeding down the hill yet.

  Keeping one foot in the car she twisted to better face him. “Harvey?”

  “The dummy.” He smiled. “I named him after the rabbit.”

  Her head fell back against the seat and she barked out a laugh. “You named your project after Jimmy Stewart’s invisible rabbit?”

  He shrugged. “What can I say, I’m an old movie buff.”

  “Which explains the creepy music.” She twisted further back around, setting both feet on the ground.

  Letting out a relieved breath, he dared to take a step in her direction. “That’s more for mood music. After all, it’s the music in Psycho that gets the blood flowing more than the shower curtain, or even the knife.”

  “Maybe.” She hefted her shoulder in an unconvinced shrug and pushed to her feet. “But your books won’t have music.”

  “No.” He took another step forward. “But the words on the page, if I do it right, will convey the creepy music for the reader.”

  She blew out a long slow sigh. “I hope you know that I’m pretty sure I’ve sprouted several new gray hairs.”

  “I’m terribly sorry. May I treat you to a nice dinner out and a good bottle of wine as compensation?”

  She held up an aluminum foil clad item. “I come bearing Lucy’s lasagna.”

  “In that case, any chance I can convince you to join me for lasagna? I think there’s some wine in the cupboard.”

  “Sounds good.” She handed him the dish. “I may need a glass or two before we break bread together.”

  Leading the way back up the stairs, he smiled. “That can be arranged.”

  Thankful she’d believed him, and wasn’t now reporting to the sheriff that a psychopath was stabbing raw beef in one of her grandfather’s cabins, he took a couple of long deep breaths. Even though the evening had taken a turn for the better, his heart still raced like a thoroughbred at the finish line.

  “How hungry are you?” he asked.

  On the sofa with the now wide awake fur ball, Cindy dangled a toy mouse in front of the kitten. “Half an hour ago I would’ve said starving.”

  “And now?” He handed her a glass of red wine.

  “Unless you’re famished, I’m in no hurry.”

  “No hurry.” He took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, leaving the kitten playing between them. “He’s an interesting creature.”

  Not lifting her head, she gazed up at him through thick long lashes. “How so?”

  “One minute he’s jumping and bouncing, attacking that stuffed toy, and the next second, he’s asleep on top of it.”

  Cindy chuckled; it was a nice sound. He liked it. A lot. Certainly more than the scared look in her eyes from a few minutes ago. “They do that often at this age. I have pictures of kittens asleep in their food, their water, or half in and out of the box. They really are adorable.”

  “He is kind of cute.”

  “Have you thought of a name for him?”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” He smiled “I’m only helping out. I can’t keep him. When my deadline comes, I’m getting on an airplane and going back to San Diego.”

  She bobbed her head and continued to taunt the kitten with the gray toy.

  “Do you really think there are more kittens out there?”

  “Hard to say. This may be the only survivor.”

  That thought left him surprisingly unsettled. In the afternoon he’d spent with this little guy, he’d grown to like him. He didn’t want to think of what might’ve happened to the rest of the litter.

  “I do, however,” she let go of the toy and looked up at him, “believe somewhere out there, there’s a mama.”

  “Makes sense.” He set his wineglass on the coffee table. “Shall we take a walk about and see what we find?”

  “Good idea. But let’s start with under the house.”

  “Under the house?”

  “Cats aren’t stupid.” She shrugged. “Roof over their heads, protection from the winds, safety from predators.”

  He nodded. “Got it. I’ll get the flashlight.”

  Of all the things Alan had thought he might be doing this evening with Cindy, crawling on the ground on all fours had not been anywhere on his radar.

  “Any sign of a cat or kittens?” she asked.

  “No.” He eased out from under the side access, brushed the dirt from his knees, and stood. “Honestly, I don’t see anything under there that looks like a nest or signs of an animal circling and creating a sleeping spot.”

  Surveying the area around the house, she shook her head. “Doesn’t make any sense. Kittens don’t just fall out of the sky.”

  “Didn’t you say that the mama fox was moving her pup from one den to another yesterday?”

  “I did.”

  “Do cats do the same thing?”

  She nodded. “They do.”

  “As much as I hate to say this, could it be that mama was moving him from one place to another and something happened to her before she moved the rest of the kittens?”

  “I suppose anything is possible. But I’d hate to think that there are more orphaned kittens, only without someone to watch over them.”

  He didn’t like that idea either. “All right, let’s walk.”

  Without a word, she fell in step beside him. Taking their time, they looked for ditches under trees and shrubs that might have been excavated by a mama cat protecting her kittens. They also poked at fallen trees looking for hollow logs that might have been made into a home for a litter. Squirrels, chipmunks, and a few other furry neighbors scurried out of the way of their search, but no signs of any felines.

  Turning the corner, Cindy came to a full stop.

  Nothing around her looked to be a sign of more cats. “Do you see something?”

  “Only that.” She pointed straight ahead. “No matter how old I get, the suns
et over the lake always takes my breath away.”

  In his month stay, this was the first time he’d even noticed the sunset.

  She whirled around to face him. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Now that you mention it.” He took a good long look. “It is rather spectacular.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “You’re kidding right?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head.

  “You’ve been here an entire month and are only noticing the view now that I mention it?”

  “I noticed it. Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “I’m sorry. I came here to work. I spent pretty much all day and night in the cabin staring at a typewriter.”

  “Or playing with Harvey?” she teased.

  “Touché.” Taking a second to breathe in the fresh evening air, he closed his eyes and listened to the silence.

  “I don’t know how my cousins can live in New York and Boston. I’d shrivel up and die if I had to be surrounded by that much concrete.”

  “There’s much to be said for the conveniences that come with all that concrete.” Though he lived in the coastal suburbs and not a major metropolitan city, he certainly appreciated the conveniences not available in a small community like Lawford. Coming up for air in the middle of the night after being lost in a manuscript and having twenty-four hour access to food, drink, gas or anything else he might need was a positive for him.

  He took in the shades of red, yellow and orange dancing on the water in the distance. This wasn’t the first time he’d noticed the lake at the bottom of the hill, but it was the first time he’d stopped to not only really look, but appreciate nature’s painting. Twenty-four hour supermarkets didn’t seem to matter right now. He had a feeling by the time he finished this book, a lot more than his view of the lake would be shifting.

  ***

  Cindy didn’t get it. How could anybody be surrounded by this much beauty and stay locked indoors. Probably why the guy lived in a major hub and didn’t bother coming out of the cabin to breathe in the fresh air. For all she knew he was one of those people who broke into hives or something when cut off from technology, or easy access to a major freeway. Though she did need to cut the man some slack. After all, his career dictated he have a desk job. And he wouldn’t be the only one who spent too much time locked indoors. The medical world had concluded that sitting was the new smoking. Too much time in a chair, in front of a computer, was slowly killing people.

  “I’d say we’ve done the best we can for now.” Alan scanned the darkening area one more time.

  “Agreed.” Wherever mama kitty was, Cindy hoped Mother Nature was looking out for her.

  With the brisk evening air settling in quickly, Cindy found herself hurrying to the cabin. Both of them briefly stomped the dirt off their shoes on the welcome mat and pushed the front door open. It did Cindy’s heart good to notice the first thing Alan looked for was the kitten. They’d see who was going home with who by the time he finished his book.

  “He did it again.” Alan stood at the table. “I have no idea why we bought him a bed. This stupid box seems to be his favorite spot.”

  Cindy laughed. “Surely you’ve seen all those Internet graphics showing cats contorted into boxes a fraction of their size.”

  “I suppose I’ve seen a few.” Shaking his head, he turned toward the kitchen. “Would you like another glass of wine?”

  “No, thank you.” She followed them into the compact kitchen. “The second dish has some of my sister Lily’s bread.”

  Alan stopped mid-uncovering the dish and turned to face her. “The Pastry Stop Lily? That bread?”

  “Yes,” she chuckled, “that bread. And to think my sister thought that she didn’t have anything special enough to attract enough clientele to stay in business.”

  “You’re kidding me?” Alan slid the lasagna into the oven. “I haven’t been into town myself yet, but anything Lucy has sent over made by the bakery has been superb.”

  “Thankfully, you and a whole lot of people agree. Already Lily has full time counter help and an apprentice baker. And it’s a good thing too. I have no idea how she’d bake for the shop, bake for the family, and plan for a wedding to beat all weddings next month if she didn’t have at least some help.” While Alan sliced the baguette, she pulled plates and silverware from the cabinets. “We’re all so happy for her. Proud of her. That bakery was her dream since she wore out her first Easy-Bake Oven.”

  Alan carried the butter dish and sliced bread over to the table. “What about you? Did you dream of being a veterinarian since you were a little girl?”

  “Absolutely.” She set a couple of placemats down. “If I’d had my way, Hart Land would have been over run with animals.”

  “So your dream has also come true?”

  She forced a smile. “Mostly.”

  Back in the kitchen, he popped his head out the doorway. “Only mostly?”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I love what I do. Having my own clinic, taking care of sick and hurt animals, making them well again. That is a dream come true. There’s just more to the dream.”

  Oven mitts in hand, he pulled the warmed lasagna out of the oven and carried it to the table. “How much more?”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out the paper she had been carrying around all day. “This would make the whole package.”

  Unfolding the page she’d handed to him, Alan read the flyer and lifted his gaze to her. “Wildlife Center.”

  “There isn’t anything close enough to Lawford Mountain to be practical. All the veterinarians do their best, but we need a place with specialists who were trained at rescue and rehabilitation. To reintroduce wild animals into their natural habitat. Whether it’s a fox or a blue jay, there needs to be a place especially designed and geared for that purpose. Ideally there needs to be a preservation side for those animals that can’t be reentered into their natural habitat.”

  Alan bobbed his head. “Makes a lot of sense. But it doesn’t sound cheap.”

  “Not even a little bit.” Cindy slid into the seat beside him and stabbed at the pasta in front of her. “It doesn’t help any that this town, and this mountain, has already donated a nice chunk of change to the new cardiac wing at the local hospital.”

  “Yes, my grandfather mentioned something about that to me. Isn’t the lead cardiac surgeon heading up the new team another one of the General’s granddaughters?”

  Cindy nodded. “My cousin Heather. What she’s done is amazing.”

  “But you don’t want to overtax people asking for donations.”

  She tapped the tip of her nose with her finger.

  “This sounds like a fun idea.” He waved the paper. “If I can help in any way.”

  “I’ll let Nadine know she can count on you.” The whole idea was a little more than funny. A few hours ago, she was ready to run for her life from the crazy man with tied up dummies and sharp knives, and now she was hoping to count on him to help make a dream come true. She stabbed at another bite of lasagna and wondered what else did this man have in store for her?

  Chapter Seven

  Much like yesterday, the words flowed freely from his fingertips to the keyboard and, praise heavens, the screen in front of him. Unlike yesterday, rather than run out of steam after the first hour, he’d been on such a roll this morning, he’d forgotten to stop and eat. Running on fumes from one large black cup of coffee, his body and his muse both cried out for food. And if he had this cat thing figured out correctly, he expected the kitten snoozing in his favorite box would shortly wake and join the feed me chorus.

  Reluctantly, he pushed away from the table. There was only so much a man could accomplish on adrenaline and caffeine. Almost afraid that if he walked away from his keyboard, the ideas that had been bouncing about in his head like an old-fashioned pinball machine would literally fall out of his ears and not come back to play, he forced himself to slap together the fastest lunch possible.

  It took
him all of five seconds, maybe three, to calculate zapping the last piece of leftover lasagna would be faster than assembling the ingredients for a sandwich. The problem, of course, no matter which quick meal he chose, he might be able to type while he chewed, or perhaps type one handed, but neither would be able to capture the ideas as quickly as they came to mind. Years of experience told him that waiting until he could sit down uninterrupted would prove the most productive. Which left the question, how quickly could he shovel down a piece of lasagna?

  Warmed plate in hand, he returned to the table and still standing, caught a glimpse of the view from the side window. The sunlight glittered on the lake. Had it been that sparkly yesterday? Leaves on neighboring trees waved in the light breeze of the day, and he was pretty sure even through the well insulated glass, he could hear birds chirping delightfully. Delightfully? He had to laugh at himself. If he spent too much more time here in the middle of Mother Nature on steroids, he’d wind up a damn poet instead of a thriller writer.

  Savoring the first bite of leftovers, he had to admit, Lucy’s lasagna would take the prize over just about any Italian grandmother’s cooking he’d ever had the pleasure of eating. His gaze returned out the window. How had he spent almost a month in this cabin, standing in this very spot, and never stopped to smell the proverbial roses?

  Who knows, maybe his grandfather had been right in the first place. Maybe if he had spent less time pacing the wooden floors and staring at the pine paneling, and instead had sat on the porch or walked the trails, perhaps his muse would have returned weeks ago. On the other hand, he carried his plate out to the front porch, maybe his grandfather’s second thought was more on point.

  The timing of the return of his muse coincided with not only a breath of fresh air, but face-to-face interaction with the community. Well, at least two members of the community. The sweetest Irish lady he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting—even if she was a bit on the stubborn side, at least she didn’t question his need for a twenty pound rib roast. And of course, the lovely veterinarian.