A House for Keeping

by Matteson Wynn

  I contemplated the tree overhead. “You guys need names. You may already have names, but these people are kind of idiots, so I’m betting that you don’t.” I ran my fingers along the root while I thought for a moment. The way the trees were kind of holding hands over the road reminded me of an elderly couple who used to frequent the diner. “I’m gonna call you Libby. And your husband over there? I’m gonna call him Todd.”

  A branch overhead bobbed in the wind.

  I laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you like your name.”

  Given the way the branch was waving around, I thought the wind must be starting to blow. Surprisingly, the saguaros were doing something helpful and sheltering me from the brunt of whatever wind was kicking up. But if it got windy enough, I’d start feeling it.

  I groaned. Wind would mean the temperature would start dropping soon. Break time over. I needed to think of something else to try.

  As I stood up, another gust of wind must’ve hit the branch, because it bobbed low enough that the very tips of a few leaves tickled my hair.

  I laughed and reached up to run my hand through the leaves. “Too bad I’m not a squirrel. I could just run up your branch and be out of here pronto.”

  There was a tug at the branch, and I let go of the leaves, watching as the branch bobbed back up toward the tree. I returned my gaze to the saguaros, chewing on my lip as I tried to think of a solution.

  A rustling sound made me look up again. I gasped and jumped back as Libby bent forward and extended the branch I’d just been touching until it rested in the center of my little clearing.

  “Uh,” I said, as I stared at the branch. My eyes traveled up to stare at the tree.

  Libby had given me a way to climb out. Like a squirrel. Like I’d just said.

  Um, was I communicating with a tree?

  I didn’t think this was what Sarah meant about using magic—I was pretty sure she meant for me to do something with the saguaros.

  But I seemed to be talking to a tree, and it was talking back, sort of, which sure wasn’t normal—did it count as using magic?

  I didn’t care. If it got me out of there, I was all for it.

  I inched my way forward, careful not to step on any of the leaves or smaller branches while also avoiding the stabby cacti. I found the thickest part of the branch that I could reach, boosted myself up, and threw a leg over the tree limb, preparing to sort of scooch my way upward.

  Libby had other plans.

  As soon as I was fully astride, she hoisted her branch up and me with it. I squeaked and lunged forward, so I was lying on my stomach along the branch, arms and legs wrapped around it in a desperate hug. When the branch stopped moving, I was hanging far above the saguaros, safely out of their reach.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Adrenaline roared through me. It fixed my headache. But I had to take a few minutes to convince my heart to stop gallivanting around my chest.

  Once I felt relatively calm, I pushed myself up to a sitting position and worked on getting my balance. Libby had lent me a thick, sturdy branch so I didn’t feel too worried about it breaking. Me falling off of it, well that was another matter. I told myself I just had to be careful and go slow.

  I swung a leg over so I was sitting side-saddle and started wriggling and scooting my way down the branch toward the trunk. When I reached the trunk, I wobbled my way to my feet, threw my arms around the trunk, and hugged Libby with all my might.

  “Oh thank you!” I said.

  When I stopped hugging Libby, I turned around so my back was to her trunk and took a look around. Well, I’d wanted to climb these trees. Looks like I’d gotten what I wished for.

  I wasn’t at the top of the tree, but I was quite a ways up from the ground. I realized there was no wind. All that branch waving I’d seen must’ve been Libby, trying to talk with me. How cool was that?

  My gaze snagged on the saguaro maze. I frowned. It was even worse than I’d thought. No way I’d ever have made it through there without getting shredded. The saguaros were moving around so much that it looked like they were dancing. Square-dancing saguaros. I shook my head and said to Libby, “Are you seeing this?”

  I looked beyond the saguaros to the porch of the house, which was empty. Well, at least they weren’t all out there having margaritas, laughing and placing bets on how long it’d take me. So, small mercies.

  A flicker of movement caught my eye. I saw Fuzzy hop up on the porch railing. Before I could call out to him, he dug his claws into one of the porch’s posts and started shimmying his way upward. I guess the house didn’t like Fuzzy’s claws, because by the time Fuzzy got to the porch’s roof, the house had shoved out a series of little steps for Fuzzy, leading up to the roof.

  Once Fuzzy reached the house’s roof, he found a flat section and stalked back and forth, eyes trained on the maze.

  I was pretty sure he was looking for me. It was bad enough he was on the roof. The last thing I needed was for him to go wandering around the maze looking for me.

  I waved and called out, “Fuzzy!” Hopefully, he’d see me, see that I was alright, and go back inside.

  He stopped pacing and looked right at me.

  I waved again. “It’s okay,” I called.

  He let out a plaintive, pitiful-sounding “Meooooow” to let me know just how much I’d worried him.

  Guilt trip achieved. I waved and smiled and used my calm voice when I said, “See, I’m fine, no problems here. Everything’s fine. I’ll be there soon. Good boy. Stay. Stay, Fuzzy.”

  I leaned back against Libby and rubbed the frowny spot between my eyebrows. I didn’t even want to think about how I was going to get him off the roof. Maybe the house could help me. Of course, the house had let him up there in the first place. I had no idea what the hell the house was thinking. The house and I were gonna have a chat when I got out of this.

  Okay, one thing at a time. I had to get over there first.

  I figured all I had to do was climb down Libby, circle around the saguaros by walking through the forest, and then go in the back door of the house. No problem, right?

  I turned to Libby and looked for a place to step down. Of course, there was a small, dead tree branch that had gotten stuck in the crook of the tree, right where I needed to step, so I tossed it to the ground.

  I heard the thud when it hit the dirt. Then I heard something else.

  I stopped short and looked down. The damn saguaros were moving over and forming a ring around the bottom of the tree.

  Seriously?

  I gritted my teeth. Wow, Sarah really didn’t want me to pass this test. She’d done something to the saguaros so that they were going to actively mess with me until I figured some way to command them to stop or to make them disappear altogether.

  Sarah knew I’d never used magic before, and certainly not on the advanced level she’d displayed. She’d made this test impossibly hard.

  I did not have time for this crap. I had a kitten to save.

  I looked over at Fuzzy, and my anger turned to horror. He was standing on the lowest edge of the roof, across from the closest cactus, and was glancing between the roof, the saguaros, and the tree limb where I was standing.

  I saw him crouch and do a little butt wiggle.

  “No! Fuzzy, no. Don’t you dare!” I used my stern voice.

  He heard me. I saw him pause and twitch his tail at me.

  “Stay! Stay! Fuzzy…No!”

  The “no” came out as yell as he launched himself off the roof. I could feel my heart lodge in my throat as I watched him. He turned his leap into a sort of glide and landed on the top of the nearest cactus. On one of the enormous flowers, no less.

  He looked elegant and unruffled.

  I was so scared I wanted to throw up.

  What if he’d landed on the thorns?

  I didn’t have time to contemplate that gruesome image because he launched off his current cactus and landed on a big flower on the next one. He continued to
sort of sail from one cactus to the next all the way across the maze.

  At some point, I realized I should breathe.

  As Fuzzy approached, Libby stretched out a branch for him. On his last jump, he landed on her branch, then climbed his way over to me.

  He seated himself in front of me, looking up. “Meow,” he yipped at me. He looked extremely proud of himself.

  “Fuzzy!” I snatched him up.

  “Are you crazy? Argh! Oh my god, are you okay?” I kept on yammering while I checked him over. I checked through his fur. I checked every pad on each paw. Twice. I didn’t find a single thorn or scratch. I shook my head in disbelief. He was totally fine.

  In fact, I think he was enjoying all my fussing because he was purring like a maniac.

  I had tears in my eyes as I clutched him to my chest. It was one thing if I got hurt in all this insanity. But it was in no way okay if Fuzzy was harmed, even a little. He purred while I quivered against Libby’s trunk and said a thank you to whomever was acting as Fuzzy’s guardian angel.

  While I tried to stop shaking, I attempted to process what I’d just seen. My family had taken in a lot of strays. I’d seen cats do some incredible things—jump impressive distances, open and close doors, and climb up super high.

  But I was pretty sure that what Fuzzy just did was not typical, even for a cat.

  I held him up so I was looking into his eyes. He looked like an ordinary kitten. But there was no way I could delude myself into thinking that body gliding across the cacti was normal. Hell, the whole fishing expedition this morning wasn’t normal, either.

  I tucked him back against my chest. It was becoming obvious to me that, at the very least, the house and Fuzzy seemed to have some kind of communication going because the house seemed to like pleasing Fuzzy. But was the house having some kind of weird effect on him? Could you get dosed with magical energy the way you could get dosed with radiation? If so, maybe it wouldn’t be permanent. And at least he wouldn’t be here very long. We were leaving on Monday.

  My heart clunked at the thought of giving him over to the vet. I nuzzled Fuzzy’s fur, letting his purr soothe me. Between leaving Fuzzy and having Dr. Paige poke at my scalp to make sure it was healing, Monday was shaping up to be a suckfest. Not that today had been a picnic. And, of course to get to Monday, I had to get out of this mess first.

  I said into Fuzzy’s fur, “While I love your company, Fuzzy, that was not a bright move. Now you’re stuck up here with me, and I’m fairly confident that no firemen are gonna come and rescue us. You got any ideas on how we’re gonna get out of this?”

  If he did, he wasn’t saying. Instead, Fuzzy got tired of me holding him and started to squirm. I realized I couldn’t climb down the tree and hold onto him, so I put him down next to me on the tree limb. He sat and groomed the fur I’d mussed while I tried to plan our escape.

  I mentally replayed the way Libby had bent down to scoop me up, trying to figure out how I got her to move and how she might be able to help us now.

  “Too bad Libby’s branches don’t reach all the way to the house. I could just walk above the stupid cacti. Any other thoughts on how we might avoid the saguaros?”

  Libby swayed. I gulped, closed my eyes, and clung to her trunk until she was still again.

  Fuzzy chirruped at me. I opened my eyes to see him jump to the next tree branch down and to the left.

  My heart skipped a beat, and I yelled, “Fuzzy! No! Come on, give me break!” I started clambering after him.

  “Stop.”

  He did not stop.

  “First thing when we get out of this, I’m teaching you what that word means. That and ‘no.’ Just…hold still. I swear I’m stuffing you down the front of my shirt the second I get my hands on you. Stop, dammit.”

  He waited for me until I got to his branch. The he jumped down and to the left again. He went to the next branch, waited for me to catch up, and then moved on before I could grab him.

  If the house was at twelve o’clock, Fuzzy stopped jumping around when he’d positioned himself at nine o’clock. He sat there waiting for me again. This time, when I got to his branch, he walked out along the branch another few feet. This was not good news. I’d been sticking near the trunk and using it for balance.

  I didn’t want to go out along the branch.

  But of course, I would for Fuzzy. And he knew it.

  I begged. “Fuzzy, please come back. Please.”

  He sat on his haunches and stared at me.

  “Really? Argh.” I inched away from the trunk a little. “How am I supposed to go out there and get you? I need something to hold onto—I don’t have claws you know.”

  A leaf tickled the side of my neck, and I looked to see a branch waving at me from my right. Libby leaned the branch toward me. I reached out, clutched the branch, and used it to help me balance as I walked along the limb I was standing on.

  “Thank you, Libby. You’re the best tree ever.”

  Keeping my eyes glued to the branch beneath me so I could keep my footing, I inched my way toward Fuzzy. As soon as I got close, he strutted another foot down the branch, then sat again.

  I stopped moving. “Would you quit it? Where do you think you’re going? You’re going to fall off the end of the—oh.”

  I’d been so busy looking at my feet that I hadn’t looked ahead.

  Libby had arranged her limb so that it lined up with a big tree branch from the tree next to us. A nice, thick climbing branch.

  My thoughts churned. I played back the last few minutes. I’d said out loud that I wanted a way to walk above the saguaros all the way to the house. Then Libby had swayed. I’d closed my eyes, so I hadn’t seen her move.

  But Fuzzy had. He’d seen what she’d done and somehow understood.

  Score another point for Libby.

  I swept my gaze down the edge of the forest. If I could get the other trees to work with me like Libby was doing, I could make my way clockwise around the left side of the house and totally avoid the maze. The trees were really close to the house there and maybe I could get dropped off close enough to the house to make a dash for it.

  I looked down at Fuzzy. He had that expression that cats get when they are waiting for you to come to your senses and follow their superior cat logic.

  Tail in the air, Fuzzy sauntered the rest of the way down Libby’s limb, hopped onto the next tree’s waiting branch, and walked all the way across the branch toward the trunk. He turned around so he was facing me, sat down, and meowed at me to hurry up.

  “Okay, I get it. I’m coming.”

  Looking over at Libby’s branch that I was clinging to with my hand, I said, “Thank you, Libby. I bet this can’t be comfortable for you, holding this position, so I’ll get a move on, but, really, thank you.” I scurried as quickly as I dared down Libby’s branch.

  When I got to the part that overlapped with the next tree, I looked at the tree ahead and said, “Er, hey. Wanna help me out?”

  Nothing happened.

  Something clicked in my brain. Maybe I needed to be touching the tree.

  I put one foot on the new tree’s branch. “Uh, hi tree. Permission to come aboard?”

  The tree swayed a little and scooted its branch closer to Libby. I took that as I yes.

  I decided to press my luck. I asked, “May I, uh, have a little help please?” and reached toward the nearest branch overhead. To my delight, the branch bent down. I let go of Libby and, grasping the new branch, I stepped onto the new tree and walked toward Fuzzy.

  Fuzzy leapt to another branch before I reached him. I didn’t follow him right away. First, I hugged my new tree. “Thank you, tree, for helping me. I’m very grateful for your help. Could you please help me get to the next tree?” While I was talking, I thought about where I wanted to go next.

  The new tree shivered a little in response. I gave it a gentle pat, then turned around to look at Libby.

  She had resumed standing in her usual pose, limbs arranged grac
efully around her. I waved at her, then I turned back to my new tree.

  This time, I looked to see what was happening around me.

  I was still separated from the house by the saguaros, who were still waving their arms in the air like they just didn’t care. My current tree was bending a branch to line up with the next tree to our left that was big enough to climb. Fuzzy hopped and climbed his way to this new branch bridge, showing me the way to get there without falling and impaling myself on an overeager cactus.

  He turned around and yowled at me, trying to get me to follow him.

  So that’s what I did. I let Fuzzy lead, and I tree-walked my way above and around the saguaros.

  Occasionally, I’d knock some debris loose from the tree I was in. Within moments, a few saguaros would surround the trunk of the tree. After the third time it happened, I gave up on the idea of climbing down at some point and decided to try and enjoy the experience. Because there was so much to enjoy.

  Since I had to be really careful not to fall, I paid extra attention to the details around me. I was surprised to discover how individual each tree was, as different from one another as people are.

  The bark had a wide range of colors. The texture varied, too, from smooth to sandy to bumpy, and everything in between. The bark even had fingerprints of a sort, forming patterns unique to each tree.

  The trees dressed in their own particular styles, too. They were garbed in leaves of varying numbers, shapes, and sizes. Some trees had just a small number of strategically placed leaves and showed a lot of limb while others were covered from neck to toe. The leaves had just started to change color so, in addition to the variations in shades of green, a whole host of other colors gave each tree its own fashion palette. It reminded me of kids playing dress up, layering whatever clothes and colors made them happy.

  Oh, and when the trees moved! It was like watching tree yoga. Each tree would gracefully bend and flex, then hold the position until I’d moved on.

  I got a sort of rhythm going. I’d ask for permission, then I’d cross into a tree and make my way toward the trunk, where I’d hug each tree, thank it, and ask for its help in moving on. To my surprise and delight, none of them even hesitated. I didn’t even get a sense that it was any trouble for them. On the contrary, they seemed like a bunch of kids playing.