Between Will and Surrender

by Margaret Duarte

  “Since I don’t know if you’re male or female, I’ll call you Gabriel. How does that sound?”

  The cat yawned and shut its eyes.

  “And since you’re such a couch-potato, I’m going to assume you’re male.”

  That said, I whispered a prayer to St. Christopher, the patron saint of travelers, and eased my Jeep onto the street.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE SUN STREAKED through the clouds over Highway 101 as I drove south between the coast-hugging range of the Santa Lucia Mountains and the rugged Pacific Coast. The freeway stretched in front of me, busy but unclogged. I tuned into KCBS radio just in time to catch a weather update. The forecast was for temperatures into the low 60s with partly cloudy skies, when on this March morning, the first day of my journey, I had hoped to bask in the sun.

  Swirls of fog shrouded the entry into Carmel like a permeable shield, but as I turned east onto Carmel Valley Road, I left its confining and concealing mist behind.

  Gabriel hadn’t stretched, purred, or opened an eyelid since we left Menlo Park, a good indication of the kind of companionship I could expect from my unfettered friend. He dozed in curled contentment, displaying a complete faith in my ability to protect him and a deft talent for preserving his strength—as well as his affection.

  Soon he’d wake up, anxious for adventure, just about when I’d be anxious for a nap. Might as well be prepared. When I spotted a grocery store to my right, I made a quick detour into the parking lot. Time to buy Gabriel’s favorite chow.

  At checkout, I asked the clerk if he knew of a place where I could buy a shelter for my cat, knowing full well that Gabriel preferred his homeless state and would likely not appreciate the confinement of a house. The young man recommended a hardware store down the road that sold igloo-type shelters. When I asked for directions, he said, “You’ve probably passed it a hundred times. Actually, it’s hard to miss.”

  “I’m not from around here,” I said.

  He presented me with a narrowed, Sherlock Holmes gaze. “Could’ve sworn I saw you here just last week.”

  The teenage girl bagging at our station said, “Except your hair was black.”

  “Nope,” I said. “It wasn’t me.”

  Embarrassed by their unconvinced stares, I wished them a nice day and headed for the exit.

  At the hardware store, I bought an igloo, and, though it was small, I had to do some creative rearranging of the Jeep’s contents to find space for it. When I finally repositioned myself behind the steering wheel, I wasn’t surprised that Gabriel had slept through the entire ordeal.

  Back on course, my attention shifted to the surrounding hills covered with oak trees, chaparral, and intense light. The sun had broken through the clouds just in time for my arrival.

  Seven miles east of the hardware store, I pulled into the Carmel Valley Inn. The woman behind the registration desk looked about my age but was at least two inches shorter and had a mass of curly brown hair. Her initial smile of polite interest widened, and her hazel eyes took on the sparkle of recognition. “Well, hi again,” she said.

  When I didn’t respond, she squinted at me as though contemplating an interactive Sudoku puzzle that she couldn’t solve. “Like, we have met before, right?”

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  My comment elicited a wink from the cheerful receptionist. “Oooh, I can already tell you’re my kind of girl.”

  I set my purse on the counter and held out my hand. “You must be Heather. We spoke on the phone Saturday. I have reservations for three weeks.”

  She shook my hand, her expression cycling between confusion and relief. “Marjorie from Menlo Park? Oops. Girl, you’ve got a twin in these parts.”

  “You have one, too,” I said, noticing her resemblance to a child-model-turned-actress quite popular a while back.

  Heather’s laughter was so musical and full of joy that I wondered what I’d need to do to hear it again. “Brooke Shields, right? Except I’m, like, a foot shorter and not nearly as famous.” She printed out a registration form and set it on the counter. “After you’ve settled in, come on back and I’ll give you the scoop on things to do around here and places to eat.”

  I hesitated, thinking about Gabriel. Better fess up now rather than have it come out later that I sneaked a cat into my room. “Ummm.”

  While signing in, I told Heather about my stray.

  “I’ll keep him outside,” I said. “He’s so quiet you’ll hardly know he’s there.”

  “Ah hell,” she said, probably afraid I’d burst into tears if she exiled my cat to some Carmel Valley pet sitter. “I’ll alert maintenance, so they’ll be prepared.”

  I was surprised at my relief at the news. Was I that hard up for a friend?

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Heather said. “We serve wine and cheese in the dining room from six to nine.”