by Gerry O'Hara
“So, you’ve chosen your painting.”
“Yes. This is the one that speaks to me.”
The gallery owner wrapped the painting, and Cash carefully stashed it in the rear of the SUV.
On the drive back he suggested a side trip to Pacific Grove for lunch.
They picked a casual eatery and sat at a window table that overlooked the surf.
“That beach”—Cash nodded his head toward a small cove—“is called Lovers Point.”
“Lovers Point? Sounds like a story’s lurking.”
“Rumor has it that a rejected lover, overcome with grief, walked into the surf and swam out toward the horizon. They never recovered his body.”
“Like James Mason in A Star Is Born?”
“Something like that. I doubt that many couples who stroll along Lovers Point today ever heard of James Mason, however. If they’ve heard of the movie at all, they would probably connect it with Streisand and Kristofferson.”
A server interrupted the discussion by placing their orders on the table.
“Crab salad looks great.” Christie reached for a roll, broke off a piece, and buttered it. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
She turned her attention back toward the beach. She surmised that this stretch could be treacherous, but right now it was benign and picturesque. The sea drew her. She could not imagine living far from the water’s edge. Her soul would ache for salt air and sea breezes.
“I can almost see Elliot here, with his easel plunked down on the sand.”
“For someone who lived in Arizona all of his life, he seems to have adapted well to the coast.”
“It is more than adapting—he’s fallen in love with the sea. He’ll want to come back. Oh, not to live here permanently, but he will come back.” She leaned forward. “I can’t imagine being landlocked.”
Cash reached across the table and his big hand enfolded her smaller one. “I’m glad we share the same attachment to the sea. It’s one more thing we have in common.”
Christie smiled; words were unnecessary to convey her reaction to his remark. Did their love for the sea bind them to each other? She lowered her eyes, confused by her interpretation of his statement. Wishful thinking, she chided herself, nothing more than wishful thinking.
After lunch they continued the drive to the airport. Cash parked adjacent to Christie’s car, and the two of them climbed out of the SUV. Christie leaned against her car door, and Cash positioned an arm on each side of her, fencing her in. He bent toward her and his face was so close she could feel his breath curling across her cheeks.
“Shall we meet at your place?” he asked. His voice was low and throaty.
“I’d like that,” she said.
He kissed her lightly, and she took the gesture as a tease for something more to come. She would dwell on the thought all the way home.
Before she pulled out of the parking lot, she slipped a CD into the stereo. She needed the peppy songs of the Dixie Chicks to keep her alert on the long drive. Traffic along Highway 1 was light until she reached Santa Cruz. Then she merged with the commuters anxious to get home. It was worse when she reached the city. Drivers’ patience was strained, car horns blared, and drivers sped through yellow traffic lights to beat the red. Twice she was cut off. At a red light, she took a moment to insert a mellow Harry Connick, Jr. CD to ease her jangled nerves. At times like this, she almost understood road rage. Didn’t approve, would never approve, but almost understood.
She was tempted to swing by the office to see if there were any messages, but since Cash was going to meet her at her place, she would go straight on. She assumed he would make a quick detour to his office first, but she decided her business could wait until morning.
Driving down her street, she could not believe her luck: a parking spot. After maneuvering into the space, she hurried to her apartment. Once inside she stood in the hallway and called Tosha. The cat usually greeted her at the door; the key turning in the lock was her signal. She called again, but Tosha did not respond.
She quickly walked through the rooms looking for the cat. She found her in the bedroom lying between the pillows. “Tosha,” she called, surprised that the cat did not rise. “Tosha, baby,” she called again. The cat lifted its head and softly meowed. It was more a cry of distress than a hello. Christie picked the cat up and held her close. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Whatever is wrong?”
Tosha lay listless in her arms. Christie carried her into the kitchen to give her a treat. That would surely liven her up, she thought. She took a can of chicken and liver off a shelf and pulled the tab. She let Tosha smell the food, but the cat did not move a whisker. Something was terribly wrong. Christie looked at the dish of dry food and bowl of water. It appeared that neither had been touched all day.
Still holding the cat, she punched the number eight and the telephone automatically began dialing the vet. Rachael, the technician, answered, and after Christie told her Tosha’s symptoms, Rachael suggested she bring the cat right in.
“We’ll be here until six. If you hurry, we’ll have time to run some tests.”
Christie hung up the phone. She put Tosha on the couch and went to get the cat carrier. Then she remembered that Cash was coming over. She dialed his cell phone and he answered on the second ring. She briefly told him the situation.
When she arrived at the vet’s office, Cash was standing in the waiting room. He took the carrier and embraced her. Tears began to stream down her face. The anxiety she had fought to keep at bay, the fear that Tosha’s illness was serious, overwhelmed her. She couldn’t stand it if anything happened to her beloved cat.
“I don’t know how…but I’m glad you came.”
“I got the address from the phone book. You don’t think I’d let you go through this alone?”
“Thanks,” was all she could muster.
Rachael told Christie that Dr. Jacobs would see Tosha right away.
Inside the examining room, Christie lifted Tosha out of the carrier and held her until the vet entered the room.
“What seems to be the problem?” Dr. Jacobs asked.
Christie told him what she had observed, and it was obvious from Tosha’s malaise that she was sick.
After examining the cat, the vet said, “I’m going to draw blood and we’ll see what’s going on. Her temperature is somewhat elevated, and she’s probably dehydrated. She’ll need fluids. We can keep her overnight and give her an IV or we can inject water under her skin and you can take her home when we’re finished. Unless her tests show something critical.”
Christie could not bear the thought of Tosha being in a cage overnight. And what if…? “I’d like to take her home. She’ll be more comfortable.”
“I understand,” Dr. Jacobs said. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the waiting room until we’re finished.”
Christie nodded, unable to speak. She knew that if she said another word she would start blubbering. Out in the waiting room, Cash put an arm around her. She leaned against him, burrowing her face against his chest. “Thank you for coming,” she said.
“I know how much Tosha means to you.”
Christie dabbed at the tears that spilled from her eyes. She had lived alone for a long time, and Tosha had been her best friend. She had hugged her close when she was happy, and she had hugged her close when she was sad. What would she do without her?
“She’s got to be all right,” she said.
They sat and waited. Christie was thankful for the strength Cash’s presence imparted. When she had lived at home, her mother was her rock, but ever since she moved to San Francisco she had faced life’s foibles alone. It was a change to have someone to lean on.
“It’s taking so long, that must mean bad news.”
“The doctor said he was going to hydrate Tosha. That takes time.”
“He should have let me go in the back with her. She isn’t accustomed to being with strangers. She’ll be scared.”
“I know this is hard for you, but you have to trust the doctor.”
“Oh, Cash, what if…” Her voice trailed off.
He put his fingers to her lips. “No what ifs.”
It was only twenty minutes until Dr. Jacobs returned to the waiting room with Tosha. Christie felt as if it had been a lifetime. She anxiously reached for the cat.
“I hydrated Tosha, and I gave her a shot of antibiotics. Her blood and urine indicate an infection, but I’m sure we’ve caught it in time. Rachael will give you antibiotic tablets. I want Tosha to have one three times a day for three days, then twice a day until they are gone. If she doesn’t start taking food or water after twenty-four hours, call me. If there is a change for the worse, which I don’t anticipate, call me. Our kitties usually respond well to this antibiotic.”
“Thank you, Dr. Jacobs.” Christie snuggled her face into Tosha’s thick fur.
“Come on, Christie,” Cash said softly, picking up the carrier and holding it so that she could lower the cat into it. “Everything is going to be all right. You heard what the doctor said.”
She nodded, too emotionally drained to say or do anything else.
“I’ll follow you home.”
“Will you come in for a cup of coffee? Or tea?”
“Sure.”
She did not want to be alone. Part of her was reassured by the vet’s prognosis, but another part was fearful that she would lose her cat. Cash would be comforting, and that, she was convinced, was the prescription she needed.
It was still light out when she arrived at her apartment. She was thankful for daylight savings time. Driving San Francisco’s busy streets and jockeying for a parking space in the dark would have taken more skill than her jangled nerves could muster. A few minutes after she got Tosha settled on the bed, Cash was at the door. She was quick to let him in; his presence provided a semblance of calm.
“How’s the patient?” he asked.
“She’s sleeping. I’ve never seen her so lifeless; it’s pitiful.”
“The vet said she’d sleep more than usual until the infection recedes.”
“I know, and cats normally sleep most of the time anyway, but it is so unlike her not to respond to me. When I got home this afternoon and she didn’t meet me at the door, didn’t come when I called…it scared me.”
“Of course, it’s only natural to be concerned.” She heard the sympathy in his voice.
“I was more than concerned, I was near panic. And I felt guilty. I had enjoyed a weekend away, completely unaware that my cat was ill. I was too busy to notice the signs. She could have died.”
“Don’t blame yourself. The cat would have been sick whether or not you were home. You acted as soon as you recognized there was a problem. Now where’s the coffee you promised me?”
“I’ll make it, just let me check on Tosha first.”
Cash shook his head and smiled at her, knowing that she had probably looked in on the cat only minutes before he arrived.
The following day, Christie quit work early to go home and give Tosha her midday antibiotic. Fortunately, she could work at home almost as easily as at the office. A couple of short days wouldn’t make any difference.
She had called Cash to thank him for his help last night. He had made light of it, but she had appreciated his strength and empathy. She would not have expected him to understand the depth of her attachment to Tosha, especially since he did not have a pet. She was grateful for his presence and could not imagine what it would have been like if she’d had to wait alone for the results of Tosha’s tests and treatment.
There was so much about him that was not visible from the outside. His tough facade was necessary for a successful trial lawyer, but his underlying character was soft when it came to the people he cared about. And, she realized, he cared about her. Last night proved that. Their relationship encompassed more than moonlight trysts—it had depth.
She had thought she might never open her heart again. She had struggled with keeping it closed to invitations to love. Even with Cash, she had not dared to think of the future; only the here and now. But last night the shield she had erected, and so carefully tended, had shattered. There was no need to fight her heart. Her reactions to his kiss, his embrace, were thrilling, but she had questioned their future. Enjoy the moment, don’t get hurt had been her motto. She would not fool herself any longer. This was real, at least on her part, and she was willing to risk her heart. This time, she believed it was right.
Christie tended to Tosha, then tried to catch up on a portfolio of work that she had brought home from the office. She sat at her desk and pulled a sheaf of papers from a folder. She tapped her pen on the desk; she could not focus on her work. Her thoughts were on Cash and scenes swirled through her mind: once again she was in his strong arms. Without conscious thought, she hugged herself tightly.
“I’m in love,” she said out loud. Tosha’s ear twitched. “Yes, I’m in love.” She left her desk and walked to the couch. She picked Tosha up and placed the cat on her lap. As she stroked the cat’s soft fur, contentment wrapped Christie like a warm blanket.
At six o’clock, a knock at the door startled her out of a comfortable nap. When she gently moved Tosha off her lap, the cat issued a protesting meow. Christie opened the door and was surprised to see Cash. He handed her a paper bag.
“To the rescue,” Christie said, as she held the deli bag.
Cash bowed his head in mock acceptance of her words. “I thought you might need some nourishment. I’m sure Tosha has been well cared for and that you might have forgotten about yourself. I picked up half a roast chicken and scalloped potatoes at the hot food counter at the market.”
“You are a sweetheart,” she said.
“Your sweetheart, I hope,” Cash said. He took her free hand in his for a moment and she felt intimacy in the simple gesture. She looked up at him, and their gazes locked. Familiar ripples passed through her body.
“Let’s get the food on the table,” Cash said, breaking the mood.
She put dishes and silverware on the table and they sat down. Cash glanced over at Tosha.
“She looks comfortable.” He nodded toward the sleeping cat.
“Yes, she’s doing what cats do best.”
“She is rather cute,” he admitted. “We always had dogs at home, big ones, much too large to coexist with a cat.”
“You’d be surprised. Friends of ours have a German shepherd and a Siamese cat that sleep together.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Why not? It’s no different than big dogs sleeping with little dogs. Cats and dogs in the same household usually tolerate each other, and if they grow up together they often like each other.”
“If you say so.”
“Oh, Cash, you don’t believe a word I’ve said.”
He had a sheepish grin on his face, and did not reply. “On a more serious note, I’d like you to come on down to San Diego with me next week and meet my mother and sister. It’s my niece’s birthday and I promised I’d be there.”
“Meet your family? That is a serious note.”
“They won’t give you the third degree, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I’m the one they’ll grill. I can just hear my mother, now: ‘It’s about time you decided to settle down. I thought you’d never find the right girl.’”
“Girl?”
“You know how mothers are. I can just hear her: ‘My son and his girl.’”
“And how will you answer her?” she asked.
He kissed her gently, then drew away for a moment. “How do you think I’ll answer? If you don’t know, perhaps this will provide a hint.” His kiss was fiery and fingers of heat spread through her body. He communicated well, she thought as her heart filled with passion and love.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
In the morning Christie’s thoughts were focused on Cash. He was beginning to consume a lot of space in her life, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. She wasn’t complainin
g—it was a delightful distraction. Double the pleasure, she thought: Cash in reality, and Cash on her mind. She had thought her life complete until he’d entered it and filled it with his presence.
Meeting his family would be a big step. He had told Christie that it was only right that she meet his mother and sister, since her family had met him. It was endearing to know that there was a smidgen of old-fashioned charm in his character. It also indicated the seriousness of their relationship.
She wondered what his mother and sister were like. The McCulloughs were a close-knit family like hers, and she admired that. Many people she had met over the years had the barest relationship with their families. It was hard for her to understand, because she treasured time with hers.
Cash’s enduring friendship with Margo, Hal, and Elliot, and his dedication to helping his housekeeper’s nephew, also said a lot about his character. She thought about the caring way he had treated her when Tosha was sick. His tough-guy courtroom persona had fallen away and he had consoled her. He didn’t laugh at her for being wrapped up in her pet. He understood her anxiety, and tried to ease it by being there for her. Matt probably would have laughed and told her to lighten up. Looking back at the college romance, she now wondered what she had seen in Matt. Love might be blind, but she had her eyes open this time, and she liked what she saw.
The phone rang. She picked it up quickly, hoping it was Cash.
Her wish was answered. “Hi,” he said. “How about lunch at the Cliff House? I can take about ninety minutes around noon, if that works for you.”
“Definitely works for me. Shall we meet there?”
“No sense in both of us getting frustrated over hunting for a parking space. I’ll pick you up.”
“If you ring me just before you get to my building, I’ll wait downstairs. That way you won’t be stressed twice.”
“Very practical. I’ll see you at noon.”
“Don’t forget to make a reservation,” Christie said into a dead line. But then, Cash knew his way around. She doubted that he would depend on a walk-in at the Cliff House.
