“I’ll eat it,” she said wearily. She stood and sniffed at the food.
“Good.” He turned and left her.
If it wasn’t what she wanted, at least it was warm. Gulping it down, she did her best to block out the images that its sweet-and-sour taste evoked. Sam leaning across their kitchen table to feed her a tidbit from his own chopsticks. The time the brute had smiled tenderly into her eyes—then dropped a sticky chunk down the neck of her blouse. He’d insisted on retrieving it himself, licking the golden sauce from her skin, then licking all the spots that the sauce by rights should have splattered, till her cries of outrage turned to another sound entirely. It hadn’t been uncommon, their first six months together, for supper to end in the bedroom.
Stop, she warned herself. Memories like that could drive a person crazy. And you’re not even a person anymore.
Still, the hot food heartened her, and also Cattoo. Just take it one step at a time. She’d found where he lived. The next step was to survive the night, which was going to be a fierce one. Their coldest yet.
It wasn’t easy, but she managed the leap to the hood of Sam’s car. Assuming the cat’s classic loaf-of-bread position, front paws tucked under breast fur, back legs folded beneath belly, tail curled tight to one side, Jessica crouched on the hood, soaking up the last of the engine’s heat. Overhead, lights had switched on in the top floor. So that’s where you are. She tried to picture the space, but it might as well have been heaven—Sam eating General Tzo’s on a warm, fluffy cloud. She shuddered, and this time the shudder didn’t end—it diminished to a faint, steady trembling. She blew out a breath, and it clouded whitely round her whiskers.
We can’t stay here, Cattoo seemed to say within. The night was clear, ice-bright stars winking in the patch of sky overhead. No cloud cover to hold the heat in, all of Earth’s warmth leaking out into the pitiless black above. The car cooled beneath her, making tiny ticks and squeaks as its metal contracted.
And I can’t leave. Jessica closed her eyes stubbornly, drew inward around her shivering center.
Perhaps they would’ve gone, perhaps they would’ve stayed till they froze to the car. Sometime later, Jessica slit her eyes to the sound of a door opening, then slamming shut.
Keys jingled, then Sam loomed over the hood. He blew out a smoky snort when he saw her. “You again! Would you gimme a break?” He unlocked his car door. “Shoo. Sssszzzt!”
Jessica stared back at him. “I’m not moving.”
“Oh, yeah?” His hands closed around her, one cupping her breast, the other her rear. “I’m late, cat. Got to get to the airport. No time for fun and games.” He dropped her gently on the ground to one side. “Now stay out from under.” He slid into the car, slammed the door.
For a second she stood there, too stiff to move, still paralyzed by the feel of his hands on her body. Then it hit her. “You’re catching a plane?”
The engine revved. Apparently he thought he could scare her into standing clear.
But nothing scared her, compared to his leaving. And that fear was nothing to do with the fact that they wouldn’t last the night if someone didn’t take them in.
Desperation gave birth to invention. Stand clear, he’d said, but what if she didn’t? What if she…
The car eased backward, reversing in a curve toward the end wall. He’d have to back and turn to leave the courtyard front first. Lurching into motion, Jessica trotted close alongside his door. Unless he looked straight down through his side window, he wouldn’t see her. He was probably looking over his shoulder, gauging how far he could go before he touched the wall.
Still moving backward, the car was coasting to a halt.
Now! Jessica shot under the front bumper, threw herself down on the ground barely two feet ahead of the caras if he’d caught her with a rear wheel, then backed on over her pitiful body until she was now revealed. Closing her eyes, she clenched her teeth. Sam, look what you’ve done! He’d always had a soft spot for waifs.
She heard the transmission shift from reverse to forward. The front wheels slowly rotated as he prepared to drive ahead.
Sam? Jessica’s eyes slit open a crack.
One rolling wheel, the oncoming chrome cliff of the bumper filled all her vision.
“Rrrrow!” She shot to one side, flattened herself to the ground, the left wheel missing her tail by half a whisker. The car passed overhead, a black shadow of death hovering, smothering, now its back wheels grinding across the pavement to crush her. She scrambled desperately aside, then rolled to her feet, spun to stare after the receding taillights. “Damn you. Why don’t you watch where you’re—”
But it wasn’t his fault; she’d positioned herself too close. The hood must have blocked his view.
And she might never see him again if he was leaving to catch a plane.
Jessica raced after the car. “Sam! Wait!”
He didn’t hear her—or didn’t care if he did. The car rolled away, relentless as the slow tilt of the Earth to winter’s freezing plane. She would stop him—she would—if it cost her her dying breath. “Sam, don’t leave me!”
The car paused when it reached the alley mouth. He’d heard her!
No, he was simply looking both ways. Headlights flashed past out on the street. Just as she reached his car, his brake lights went off.
He’d turn left to head for the airport. Her breath sobbing in her ears, Jessica shot out into his path as the car lunged into motion.
Sam, see me. She braced herself and squinted up into the headlights, the blaze of light blinding her.
Deafening screech of tires—he’d hit the brakes.
Again she’d cut it too close. The car was on top of her— a murderous black monster with blazing eyes, a silver smile. I should duck, she thought with icy clarity—and something whacked the top of her head.
The night folded leisurely down around her, cold as frozen concrete, warm with the taste of blood.
“DAMN, DAMN, damn, damn—you stupid, fur-ball-forbrains, good-for-nothing cat!” His face only inches from her own, Sam crouched on hands and knees to peer under the bumper. That is, one and a half Sams peered at her, then reached to touch her shoulder with too many fingers.
Jessica blinked. Guess that was sort of stupid.
“You want to check out, that’s your business. But did you hear me volunteering to help?” He touched her again. “You could’ve jumped off a damn bridge. Or turned on the gas.”
Sorry.
He growled wordlessly and withdrew. She cried out as the engine started overhead. He was just going to drive off and leave her? “Sam!” she cried, but it came out a breathless squeak.
The car backed up slowly. Its headlights lit the road, casting the long black lump of her shadow before her. She lay on one side, her whiskers crumpled against the pavement, too scared to move.
The car stopped. Leaving the engine idling, Sam hurried back to kneel beside her. “Are you alive, cat? Speak to me.”
“Hi.” It came out the most prosaic of mews.
He let out a harsh breath. “That’s a start, anyway. Now what’s broken?” His fingers touched her delicately, exploring her ribs, her back, each of her legs. “Damn, there’s not much to you, is there? I’ve met potato chips with better structural engineering. Why the hell did you want to tangle with a two-ton car?”
“You were leaving me.”
“At least you can talk, blast you. Okay, now what?”
“Watch out for my spine.”
“Yeah…” He stared off into the darkness, thinking. “We’ll need a board.” He stood. Hurried footsteps moved away. Something squeaked, then he was back again. Clash of metal as he set a trash can lid down beside her. “Not exactly classy, but it’s the best we can do.” He sucked in a long breath. “I reckon this will hurt. Do me a favor and don’t take a hunk out?”
I’d never…
This time when his fingers approached, there seemed to be ten. They slid with exquisite care under her limp body, the
n he lifted, doing his best to keep her level. “E-eeasy…” He laid her gently on the lid of the garbage can. “There.” He let out a shaky breath. “Cat on a platter.”
“That’s what I always loved about you, Sam. Your unfailing sense of humor.”
He missed the sarcasm. “Okay, cat, let’s go for a ride. Which vet do you recommend?” He lifted her and headed for the car.
“No! No vet.” Not yet, anyway. She could see Sam paying the bill, leaving her in the vet’s care with the promise that someone would find her a good home once she was healed. While Sam flew off to wherever, his conscience clear. “No vet. I don’t want one. Besides, they’ll all have gone home this time of night.”
“No favorite, huh? Okay, we need the yellow pages…” He set her on the passenger seat, shut the door. A moment later he slid in beside her and sat, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Blast, blast, blast.”
Believe me, you won’t find a phone book at a phone booth in this part of town. If only he’d take her home…
“All right, I guess the closest phone is back at my place. Hang on.” He reversed the car past the alley, then turned into it. He braked as they jounced over a pothole, his palm hovering above her side. “Just hang on, fur-brain. How’re you doing there?”
“Somebody’s playing the end of the 1812 Overture between my ears. I suppose I’m concussed.” The bumper had clipped her, she imagined.
Murmuring soothing nonsense, he carried her on his improvised litter into the building, then through a small lobby. He jabbed a button and the wide doors to a freight elevator groaned open. The lift hummed up to the top floor, where Sam had to unlock another set of steel doors marked with an enormous numeral six.
The doors opened directly onto the loft. Sam slapped a light switch. With one eye, Jessica could see dark, enormous beams intersecting far overhead, vanishing backward as she was carried across the room. Track lighting. A network of pipes enameled forest green and Chinese red.
“Okay, now what?” Sam muttered. “I reckon you’re in shock. Warm you up, I s’pose.” He set the lid down on a low coffee table. He came back a second later, dropped down on the couch before her. A wall of rough burgundy descended, blocking Jessica’s view.
It settled around her, smelling of raw wool and that indefinable, unforgettable fragrance that was Sam. His sweater. He tucked it carefully around her chin. And with that gesture, something like peace enfolded her. She shut her eyes and breathed in deeply, savoring the sensation. She used to lie in bed beside him sometimes, late at night, long after he’d fallen asleep, her nose pressed to his shoulder, simply inhaling the smell of his skin. Oh, Sam. Warmth seeped into her bones, crept toward her heart.
Pages flipped nearby. She opened her eyes. Scowling with concentration, Sam thumbed through a phone directory.
“No.” I don’t want a vet. Let me stay here with you.
“Hang on, cat. We’ll find somebody.” He grunted. “Where the blue blazes is Warwick? Is that close by? Or what about Cranston? I s’pose any place in this runt of a state is no more than a good sneeze away.” He picked up the phone book and walked out of Jessica’s field of vision. She heard him punch the numbers, then he wandered back into view, a portable phone pressed to one ear. “Hello?” He stopped and swung to glance at Jessica. “Yes, I’m trying to reach Dr. Casten. It’s an emergency. I ran over a cat.” He scowled and paced on past the sofa.
She needed to recover—not completely, but enough to make him think twice about racing off to the vet, Jessica realized, as he explained the situation to the vet’s answering service. But was it dangerous to move? Her tongue flicked over her teeth and she winced. I bit it. That’s where the blood’s coming from. That was a relief. Next she took a cautious, limb-by-limb inventory, stretching out each leg in turn beneath the sweater.
No pain there, and her spine must not be traumatized, since everything seemed to work.
“How long will it take him to get back to me? I mean, if there are internal injuries, I don’t want to… Okay…okay…” Sam let out a breath between his teeth. “Okay, my number is…” Reciting it, he wheeled away.
Jessica half sat, then braced herself that way on her lower elbow. The room reeled, her head rang like a distant gong. She closed her eyes. Hang on.
“Hang on. I think—” Sam stopped. “No…never mind, just have him call me quick as he can, will you? Thanks.”
Jessica opened her eyes to find him staring at her from across the room. He removed the phone slowly from his ear. “Don’t you dare move.” He pointed a finger at her as he advanced around the sofa.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Not till the world stopped spinning, anyway.
He sank down on the couch before her. “Are you okay?”
“That’s a pretty relative term for somebody who’s grown a tail in the past week. Why don’t you check my eyes?”
He leaned forward and tipped a finger to support her chin. “Let’s see, if you’ve cracked your silly skull, the symptom is, the pupils go out of sync. One bigger than the other, right?”
“Right.” He was talking to her without a clue he was doing so. She looked up at him, their faces not a foot apart. “It’s so good to see you, Sam.” To feel you touch me.
“What have you got to purr about?” His dark eyes moved back and forth, comparing one of her pupils to the other. “Look about the same to me—both of ’em weird, but I s’pose that’s normal. You’ve got eyes like a goat, cat.”
“Thanks.” She lifted her chin from his grasp and glared past him. “Knock me silly, insult me—go right ahead if it makes you feel better.” He was right. She had nothing to purr about, not while all he saw was a cat.
“Well—” Sam reached for the phone book “—if you’re feeling better, then I’ve got another call to make.” He flipped pages, frowned, then picked up the phone.
“Yes,” he said after he’d punched in the numbers. “I’d like to leave a message for two passengers who should be coming in on your flight from Chicago, the one that arrives in about five minutes. Yes, that’s it.”
Jessica turned to stare. So he’d been meeting a plane, not leaving. And Chicago, that could only be—
“The message is for Dr. and Mrs. Myles, from Sam Kirby. Yes, that’s K-i-r-b-y. Please tell them an emergency came up and I can’t meet them at the airport. But if they’ll catch a taxi to their hotel, I’ll meet them there by—” he turned his wrist to consult his watch “—ten-thirty latest. Oh! And would you please tell them the emergency has nothing—repeat—nothing to do with their daughter?”
Jessica fixed him with her weird eyes. That’s what you think.
“Thanks.” Sam put the phone down. He met her gaze. “What are you staring at? And when’s that damned vet gonna call?”
Forget the vet, I’m fine. “Truly.” Her parents…This trip would throw their exquisitely scheduled world into a shambles. She was surprised they had…well, bothered wasn’t exactly the word she meant. Still, she’d assumed they’d oversee her condition long-distance, just as they had most of her life, like caring but overworked gods.
A nasty thought hit her. Her father would’ve been monitoring her condition, insisting that any change in her status was reported immediately. Did this mean…“How am I doing, by the way? Why does my father want to see me?”
“Don’t you ever stop talking, cat? Or does that mean you hurt? You’re maybe sitting there trying to dictate your last will and testament. I want Fluffy to have my catnip mouse, and Tiger gets my—” He jumped as the phone rang, then grabbed for it. “Yep?” He stood and starting pacing. “That’s right, I hit a cat…No, it’s a stray—I mean, I think it is. But that’s beside the point. I’ll pay whatever it…” Still talking, he wandered away.
Now. She had to show him she was all right now. Feeling as if she were lifting a piano on her back, Jessica pushed herself shakily to her feet. The sweater slithered off her shoulders to the floor, and suddenly she was infinitely lighter—she could have la
ughed aloud. She stood on the table, shaky but whole. Her tail swished itself through a slow, experimental S-curve. She seemed to be fine, apart from a wicked headache. A slight concussion, if even that.
“Wait a minute,” Sam spoke from across the room. “He’s up.”
He? Jessica turned to stare. My God, Sam, you don’t even realize I’m a she? She sat, suddenly, ludicrously, wanting to cry. Oh, what was the use?
“Oops, he’s down. Sitting. Yeah, I looked at his eyes. The pupils look just the same…What’s normal for a cat? It’s pretty bright in here. I’d say they’re dilated ’bout halfway, at least they were a minute ago.” Sam walked across and leaned down to look into her eyes. “He’s still the same.”
And you can kiss my sweet fanny, Jessica beamed with teeth-gritted precision. As they say in Texas.
Sam blinked, then spun around to look behind him. He stood frozen for a long moment, then swung slowly on around, apparently scanning the shadows as he turned. He ended back where he’d started, staring down at Jessica, his dark brows pulled together over his hawkish nose.
“Right.” That was me you heard. And this me is not a he, thank you ever so much. If anybody should know, you should.
“Huh?” Sam shook his head, a sharp jerk as if he was shaking water out of his ears, then turned away. “Do I… Uh…well, do you think I should? To take X rays or whatever? No, nothing looks as if it’s broken. I’m beginning to think my tire didn’t catch him. Thumped him good with the bumper, I’d say…Hmm? Oh, maybe five miles an hour…”
“No vet.” He doesn’t want to come out this time of night, and I don’t want to see him. Jessica stood resolutely, then leapt to the couch.
“Hey!” Sam protested from across the room. “He just jumped on the couch. Yeah.”
At the touch of the nubby fabric beneath her pads, some reflex grabbed hold. Her claws were too long. Jessica reached for a cushion, hooked in, and—She realized what she was doing just as Sam yelled.
“Hey!” He lunged across the room. “None of that, cat! He’s trying to claw the couch, blast him. You—cut that out!”
You Again Page 12
