by Patricia Fry
****
“Next stop; the gas station,” Keith announced, once everyone was seated in the Jeep with the cat and they’d driven out of the driveway.
“I’ll ask around about Scott in the store while you fill her up,” Michael offered.
“There’s a store at the gas station?” Savannah asked. “I didn’t know that.”
“A very tiny one,” Keith said.
“Yeah, with what—a couple packages of gum, a lollipop or two, stale donuts, and cold coffee,” Michael recited.
“I saw some aspirin in there last time,” Keith said.
Holly laughed. “Big wow!” She then looked suspiciously at the men. “Hey, are you just telling us that so we won’t go shopping in there?”
“Yeah, that’s probably it,” Savannah agreed. She grinned. “Holly, I’d say we’d better go check it out.”
Holly gave Savannah a high five. “Absolutely!”
The brothers simply smiled at one another and Keith shook his head. After a few moments, he glanced back at Rags, who lay across Savannah’s lap in the backseat. “I had a patient once like your cat.”
“Like Rags?” Savannah asked. “Like him in what way?”
“Well, unpredictable—kind of impulsive and fickle, you might say.” Keith chuckled. “They brought Cleopatra in probably every few months with a problem and a wild story to go with it. I swear that cat ran out of her nine lives before she was even two years old.”
“A female Rags, huh?” Michael said.
Keith nodded. “On steroids. She had the energy and curiosity of eight cats, and she must have had a whole flock of angels watching over her because she survived some of the most spine-chilling situations.”
“Dare we ask,” Savannah said meekly, “like what?”
“Oh, she literally got a close shave once when she climbed up into the engine of an old truck on the farm the day Grandpa decided to fire it up. How she escaped that without a scratch, I’ll never know.”
“But they brought her in to see you, anyway?” Savannah asked.
“Oh no. By the time I saw her, the fur was growing back in. She just looked like she had a reverse Mohawk.” He grimaced. “No, that time they brought her in to have me remove a nail from her nail.”
Michael frowned. “What?”
“Yeah, Cleopatra had joined Grandpa on the barn roof presumably to watch him replace some shingles and I guess he accidently nailed her claw to the roof. He freed her, but was afraid to try removing the nail from her claw and he brought her to me.” When he heard the women whimper at the thought, he said, “Oh, she wasn’t in any pain. The nail missed the quick; it was just awkward for her to walk, is all.” He laughed. “That was the thing with Cleopatra—she was always running into sticky situations that could have been downright serious, and walking away pretty much unscathed—like the time she hung herself with the drapery cord.”
“Good lord,” Michael said. “And she survived?”
Keith nodded. “Yes. Mrs. Perry had taken in enough kittens over the years that she knew how to kitten-proof her home. She had Grandpa rig up a system whereby they could pull the drapes open and closed, but the cords were hidden away safely from the cats—all except for Cleopatra. She evidently found Grandpa’s rigging quite fascinating and spent a day or…” he chuckled. “...knowing Cleopatra, maybe it took her only a few hours of messing with it until it came loose and she hung herself.” He grimaced. “Her heavenly angel must have been on her shoulder that day, because the noose was low enough that her feet touched the floor—just barely, and she was still alive when they found her—exhausted, but alive.”
“Holy cow,” Michael said. “So was her trachea damaged? Is that why they brought her to you?”
“Oh no,” Keith said. “She didn’t need treatment after that accident. They told me about it when they brought her in the next time, which was to have a tooth removed from her throat.”
“What?” Savannah said. “An animal bit her throat?”
“Uh-uh,” he said calmly, “it was her own tooth. It had come out, probably while she was eating some boiled chicken. We think that when she swallowed the piece of chicken—maybe a piece that was actually large and difficult to swallow—the tooth went with it and, because it was a tight fit, was forced into the side of her throat.”
“Gosh, Rags is a dream compared to poor Cleopatra,” Savannah said.
Keith glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “It’s all in the perspective.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Well, along with being prone to accidents, you might say, she has to be one of the most charming cats around. Everyone in the office loves her. Neighbors all take care of her when she roams into their yards. She has charisma galore.”
“So she’s still living?” Savannah asked.
“Oh yes,” Keith said. “In fact, my assistant sent me an email update this week and she said that Cleopatra, now fifteen years old, has slowed down some. She only visited the clinic once in the last few weeks.”
Savannah shuddered. “I’m afraid to ask…” More quietly she said, “Why?”
“Why?” he repeated.
“Why was she brought in? What happened this time?”
“Oh,” he chuckled, “hypothermia.” When he noticed the others were waiting for more, he said, “Well, Mrs. Perry took her grandchildren out on their pond in their rubber boat and she didn’t notice that Cleopatra had followed them. Evidently, the cat wanted to go for a ride in the boat, so she swam out to where they were floating around. By the time they noticed her trying to climb aboard, she was pretty worn out and cold.” He shook his head. “The cat seems to have no filters or sense of fear; she just reacts.”
Savannah ran her hand over Rags’s fur, murmuring, “Gosh, you’re easy peasy compared to Cleopatra.”
As Keith pulled into the mountain gas station and parked, the women eagerly stepped out, and Savannah said, “I’m leaving Rags here. I fastened his leash to the seat belt.” In only a few minutes, though, she and Holly returned.
“You guys tricked us,” Holly complained.
“What do you mean?” Michael asked.
“That gas station store is lame.”
Keith grinned. “Of course, it is. That’s what we told you. Didn’t you believe us?”
“No,” Holly said. “We thought you were making it up.”
“Yeah,” Savannah agreed, “that was trickery pure and simple.”
Michael burst out laughing. “That’ll teach you to believe what we say.”
****
After riding quietly for several miles, Holly asked, “Where to now?”
Keith teased, “If we tell you, you won’t believe us.”
“Yes, we will,” Holly said. “Where?”
“To the Ridgecrest. I want to find out if Wanda has seen the hermit.”
“Are you sure this person they’ve labeled ‘the hermit’ is the same guy you’re looking for?” Savannah asked. “That might not even be Scott Hanson.”
Keith glanced briefly at Michael. “Yeah, we’ve considered that. The guy who had pictures of our mother might not actually be the one they call the hermit.”
Michael turned to look at the women. “But hey, if he doesn’t fit the description of the hermit, I don’t know who does.”
“Right,” Keith agreed.
“Too bad you didn’t get a picture,” Holly said.
Keith nodded. “Yeah, no one thinks that fast. It didn’t even occur to us that it could be him until we thought about it later.”
Savannah took out her phone and began sliding her finger across the screen.
“What are you looking for?” Holly asked. “You seem to be on a mission.”
“Well, it occurred to me that I took quite a few pictures while we were outside with the kids yesterday. I thought maybe…” She paused. “Hey, wait,” she said, staring at her phone. She tapped on it a couple of times, then handed it into the
front seat. “Michael, is this him?”
“Who?” he asked.
“The man who was looking for the photo?”
Michael took her phone and stared for a moment. “Do you mean that guy standing next to the woodpile behind where your mom and the kids are picking up…what are they picking up?”
“Pine cones. Is that him, Michael?”
“I can’t be sure. It’s not very clear.”
“But is that what he was wearing?”
“Could be.”
Just then, Keith pulled off the road into a turnout. “Let me see that.” After studying the picture for a moment, he said, “I think Savannah’s right. I think that’s him.” He glanced back at her. “Do you have any other pictures of this guy?”
“I don’t know.” She reached for her phone.
“Let me see,” Holly said. After looking at the photo, she handed the phone back to Savannah, then pulled out her own. “Maybe I got a picture of him too. There were several people milling around. I didn’t pay much attention to them.” Then excitedly, she said, “Hey, here he is. Look, you can see his face—well, sort of. He does have a lot of hair and whiskers.” She passed her phone up to the front seat.
“Yeah, that’s the guy who was looking for the picture,” Michael said. “That has to be Scott Hanson.” He made eye contact with his brother. “Gosh, to think…”
“Yeah,” Keith said. “I still wonder if he knows who we are.”
“Twin guys who look so much like he did when he was younger…” Holly said. “Sure, he knows who you are. And the way he seems to be watching the children in this picture, I think he knows who they are.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Savannah said. When Holly looked at her, she explained, “He doesn’t seem all that interested in family. He went off and left Brenda and her brother…”
“Yeah, Drew,” Holly said. “But remember, Carol was his first love. They planned to be married.” She looked squarely at Savannah. “I’ll bet those photographs mean the world to him.” She tilted her head. “I wonder where he got them.”
“Brandt must have given them to Scott when he visited a couple of years ago,” Michael said. “Yeah, they must be awfully important to him.”
Savannah nodded. “So he’s hiding out and living away from society partly because of the pain he feels from the loss of Carol and his sons. I mean, according to Brandt, Scott just recently began to remember Carol. Can you just imagine the pain of loss he must feel? He never had the opportunity to grieve before because he didn’t remember her, so he’s grieving now. Don’t you think so?”
Holly nodded and said quietly, “I imagine he could use the support of his family about now.”
Keith pulled the Jeep back onto the road. Nearly an hour later, he parked the car in front of the Ridgecrest Inn. “Hi Wanda,” he greeted as the two couples walked into the café with Rags.
“Hi there. You folks are becoming regulars aren’t you?” Wanda stepped back a few paces and looked down at Savannah’s feet. “Is that a cat—on a leash?”
“Yeah,” Savannah said meekly. “Okay if I keep him with me? I don’t want to leave him in the car.” When Wanda didn’t respond, she offered, “We can sit outside. It’s a nice morning.”
The waitress smiled. “No. No, it’s okay. We’ve had raccoons wander in and chipmunks.” She lowered her voice, adding, “Probably a rat or two.” She laughed. “Why not a cat? Yeah, he’s okay. It’s just that I’ve never seen a cat on a leash before. How’d you train him to do that? The cats I’ve seen are flighty and all—you know, kinda wild.”
Keith held his hand out to Holly. “Let me see that picture again, will you?” When she handed him the phone, he showed it to Wanda. “Do you recognize this guy?”
Keith and Michael waited for her response. Finally, she nodded. “I believe that’s the hermit. Looks like he’s wearing a clean shirt there, but otherwise, yeah, that’s him.” She called to a couple of men who were drinking coffee at a table across the room. “Hey, come look at this,” she invited. “Is this the hermit?”
“Bring it over here, Wanda,” Buck said. He scowled at Rags. “I’m allergic to damn cats.”
Once they’d studied Holly’s photograph, the men both agreed that it was the hermit.
“Have you seen him around here, lately?” Michael asked. “In the last few days? In particular, overnight?”
Suddenly, a shout came from the back of the restaurant. “Wanda!”
The waitress rolled her eyes. “Now what?” she muttered. She turned toward the kitchen. “Coming, Al.”
Keith glanced around the room, then asked his companions, “Want a cup of coffee or something?”
“Sure,” Michael said. “Might as well stay and see what else we can find out before we head for the hills.”
Once the two couples were seated, Savannah leaned forward and said, “Actually, Scott Hanson knows where we are. He’s obviously interested in us. Why don’t we just hang out at the lodge and see if he’ll come to us?”
Michael and Keith thought about that for a moment, then Michael said, “But he left, didn’t he? I mean, he took all his stuff and he left, when he had the perfect opportunity to reveal his identity.”
“Yeah, he did,” Keith agreed. “And, it seems that he ran scared.”
“I think he wants to know you,” Savannah said quietly. “But, as you said, Keith, he’s scared. Something about the truth scares him.”
Keith sat back in his chair brooding for a moment. “Honestly, I don’t think this pursuit means as much to me as it does to Michael.” When the others looked at him, he said, “I had a great upbringing. I couldn’t ask for better parents. I found my brother, which is really all I’m interested in. Sure, it would be nice to know my real dad. But I think it means more to Michael.” He looked at his brother. “Doesn’t it?”
Michael cleared his throat. “Yeah. I guess I am eager to have a good father-son relationship. But I’m not sure it’s going to happen even if we find Scott Hanson. He doesn’t seem to be reliable or warm father material.”
The others chuckled.
“Well, boys,” Wanda said when she returned, “looks like your friend was here after all.”
“Our friend?” Keith questioned.
“Mr. Hanson or Mr. Bloom—you know—the hermit.”
“He was?” Savannah asked.
“Yeah, it was probably him who made a grab-and-run visit maybe early this morning off the back porch. Al had some canned goods out there and he’d stashed a bottle of liquor behind the garbage bin. Gone—most of it gone.” She chuckled. “And a large bag of peanuts in the shell.”
“You’re sure it was him?” Michael asked. “Is he the only one you know of who steals around here?”
“Oh, he didn’t steal it. He left money. That’s how we know it was the hermit. Most of the time he leaves money. Or he comes back and brings money or some sort of fresh game. Yeah, he was here, all right, but who knows where he’s headed.” She nodded toward the men at the other table. “If you’re really bent on finding him, you might talk to Merle there. He knows where someone like the hermit might go this time of year.”
“Thanks Wanda,” Keith said. He then asked, “Hey, has there been anyone else looking for the hermit lately, that you know of?”
Wanda furrowed her brow, considering the question. “Yeah, I guess it was about a month or so ago someone came in asking about a man matching his description.” She started to laugh. “He said he was the hermit’s financial advisor. Did you ever hear of anything so crazy?” She looked back at the pick-up window. “Order’s up.” Before stepping away, she asked, “Hey, what can I get you people?”
“We just want some beverages to go,” Keith said.
“To go?” Holly questioned.
“Don’t want to get too far behind him. He’s on foot, remember?”
“Sure. What can I get you?” Wanda asked.
While they waited
for their beverages, Keith pulled a map from his jeans pocket. “Michael, let’s go talk to Merle, shall we?”
Meanwhile, Savannah said, “I’ll take Rags out for a break and see if he wants some water.” She moved toward the front door and Holly followed.
The men were deep in conversation when they joined their wives at the Jeep several minutes later carrying four cold drinks.
“Well?” Holly inquired.
Keith handed her an iced coffee. “We think we know where to find him. Now that we know who he is, maybe he won’t give us the slip again.”
“Where?” Savannah asked, taking an iced ginger tea from Michael.
Keith pulled out the map again and spread it across the hood of the car. “We’re here,” he said, pointing. “Merle believes Scott may have taken this trail up to the bluff, where he can hide out for a few days and get some good fishing in before he hikes deeper into the mountains. He thinks he’s probably headed for this valley. He said he’s bragged a time or two about hiking to the top of these peaks, but Merle and the other guys don’t think he’s up to that anymore. Merle believes he stays lower now—which could make it easier for us to find him. He suggests following the less-traveled trails because that’s what he believes Scott will be doing.”
“Looks vast,” Savannah remarked. “I mean this area. Someone could be in plain sight and still be invisible.”
“Yeah,” Holly said, “like he was at the lodge. I sure didn’t see him, did you?”
Savannah shook her head. “Not until I looked at the pictures.”
“Are you girls up for a hike today?” Keith asked.
“Let’s go,” Savannah said. She then balked. “What about Rags?”
Michael let out a sigh. “Well, we’re too far from the lodge to take him back. We can take turns carrying him if he gets tired of walking.”
Savannah thought for a moment, then said, “Too bad we don’t have a pony or a goat.”
“What?” Holly said.
“Well, he can ride a horse. We found that out.” Savannah let out a sigh. “Gosh, maybe we shouldn’t have brought him today.”
Michael shook his head. “No, I still think he might lead us to Scott Hanson. He’s familiar with the man’s scent and Rags doesn’t forget a scent he’s met.”
