Sweet Revenge

by Maisy Morgan

  Tripp looked embarrassed rather than angry. “Yeah…” he whispered under his breath.

  “Come on, let’s see what we’re dealing with,” Mary said and proceeded into the backyard. She had yet to be brave enough to venture into their nightmare of a yard. There were crunching sounds as they walked through it – fallen sticks, broken bottles, old tires, and even a few toys littered the yard. It all couldn’t even be seen until you were right up on it, thanks to the tall grass.

  “Oh my gosh!” Tripp suddenly exclaimed pointing up ahead.

  “No way,” Mary said as they approached a rusty Volkswagen Beetle halfway hidden under a tarp that had gotten covered in pine straw, sticks, and leaves. The mess was hidden from view thanks to the grass. Mary jerked on the filthy tarp revealing the broken-down vehicle. “Okay, hold on. I’m calling the old owners. Stay here, and watch out for snakes, all right?”

  Mary hurried back into the house and began hunting around for the phone number of her realtor. She called him and left a message about the car they had just come across, and frankly, she was amazed she didn’t know it was back there. She had been out to the house once before the move to check it out, though truthfully, she hadn’t been brave enough to traipse through the disaster of the yard back then. This was the first time she had really been back there since they had arrived.

  She received a phone call from the owners shortly afterwards, and the man on the other line was laughing.

  “Mary, I’m not going to lie to you, I done forgot that car was even back there,” the man said. “We abandoned the house five years ago. Look, the papers to the car are in the glovebox if they aren’t totally destroyed by the weather just yet. If you want it, it’s yours. Otherwise I’ll pay for a wrecker to come get it for you.”

  Mary thought for a moment. “Does it run?” she asked.

  “I don’t even know anymore,” he said. “It ran five years ago, and that was probably the last time it was cranked up. I’m not going to lie, we really didn’t take good care of it. And we don’t want it. You can count it as a bonus to the house for all I care, but if it’s going to be a burden, I can have it carted off to a junkyard for you.”

  “No, I think we’ll hold onto it,” Mary said. “I’ll see what I can do with it. Thanks.”

  Mary headed back outside, and she pushed through the tall grass and back to the car where she happily found that Tripp had started piling up sticks and leaves a considerable distance from the car. He had set himself to clearing the area around it so that they could get a better look at the giant rust bucket. It had clearly once been red, though one of the doors was blue and looked newer than the rest of the vehicle.

  Mary stared at it for a moment while Tripp laughed under his breath at the thing. “What do you think, Tripp?” she asked.

  “I think it’s funny and super redneck that we came across a car we didn’t know we had just because we’re doing yardwork,” Tripp said. “What did the owner say?”

  “They don’t want it,” Mary said. “So, we now have a dilemma. Here is my thought, and you can tell me what you think. I say we fix it up and get it running together.”

  Tripp snorted. “Yeah, like we can do that.”

  “I think we can,” Mary said. “We’ll even get it painted once it’s running. And, if you can get it up and running, you can have it.”

  Tripp’s head whipped around, his eyes widening as he looked at Mary. “What?” he questioned.

  “You heard me,” Mary said. “You’re going to be fifteen this year. Come next year, you’re going to need a car, right?”

  “You… you’re giving me a car?” Tripp asked.

  “When you turn sixteen, it’s yours,” Mary said. “But you have got to get it running. Your fifteenth birthday is just a few weeks away, and you’ll be able to get your learner’s permit. I say this would be a good sort of life lesson type thing, right? It will help build character and all that jazz. You get it running, and you get a car.”

  Tripp’s eyes glistened. “Wow!” he said, turning to look at the ugly, rusted excuse of a vehicle, but he had a different look in his eyes now. Mary imagined that he was daydreaming about what it would look like once it was repaired.

  Tripp walked around the vehicle, and he grinned. “Look! The keys are in the driver’s seat!” he exclaimed and opened up the driver’s door, pulling out a set of keys. “Hmm… the inside isn’t too bad. It stinks. It’s definitely going to need to be cleaned. There’s some water damage on the floorboard, not bad though, and the rust isn’t inside or anything. It’s all exterior. I should look at the engine.” He got out and came around front, holding the keys.

  “The engine is going to be in the back,” Mary said. “It’s one of those older Volkswagens. The front is the trunk.”

  “Really?” Tripp asked. “Wow, this is an old car.” He went to open up the hood anyway. “I wonder if they left anything in the trunk?” he asked, and as soon as he opened it up, a giant fluffy creature snarled and jumped out at them. Tripp screamed, as did Mary, when a large, black and white puffball jumped on Tripp, its claws extended. “Ah!” Tripp roared in horror, grabbing the thing by its fur and throwing it back as it hissed and snarled.

  It ran straight towards the house where Mary had left the back door open. “It’s a wild cat!” Mary exclaimed, and the two of them ran into the house after it.

  It was running all over the place in complete freak-out mode. “Catch it! Catch it!” Tripp yelled, and they chased it around the kitchen island. It darted up the stairs. “Not my room!” he roared.

  Once it made its way into Tripp’s room, it completely lost its mind, realizing it had cornered itself as Mary and Tripp closed the door behind them to keep it confined. It knocked everything over Tripp had managed to unpack. The bookshelf Mary had gotten him was on the floor by the time they had enough sense to empty out one of the half-empty cardboard boxes and trap it underneath. They flipped it over at last and closed the top of the box, and they could hear it hissing and snarling from within.

  They stared at each other, and Mary couldn’t help but to start laughing. Tripp had managed to avoid any serious scratches, but his shirt was completely shredded on the front. “Dang!” he exclaimed, though he was laughing as well. “I really liked this shirt. What are we supposed to do with this thing?”

  Mary had no idea. The cat seemed to be calming down now. It was poking its nose out of a small hole in the side of the box and seemed to be sticking its tongue out at them. “I’m not sure.” Mary said. “Maybe I’ll call a vet? Its fur looked a little matted. It’s probably a feral cat or something.”

  “Can we keep it?” Tripp asked, and Mary stared at him like he was crazy. Had he not just seen what the cat had done to their house in ten seconds flat?

  Yet, for some reason, she found herself responding with a simple, “Maybe,” as she hurried to find her phone in order to locate a local veterinarian office.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The nearest veterinarian office was all the way in Fayetteville, and it was a thirty-five-minute drive there. The cat was boxed up in the back seat, meowing occasionally about being trapped in the box. It had calmed down significantly since it had first been captured by Mary and Tripp. It stopped hissing and snarling and was merely being incredibly vocal now. “If you listen really carefully, it almost sounds like it’s singing Jingle Bells,” Tripp said, and Mary snorted.

  “Yeah, sure,” she said, shaking her head.

  “I can’t believe there is not a veterinarian in Brooks,” Tripp said with a loud moan, propping his elbow up on the passenger’s side door of the car as they headed down the long stretch of Highway 85.

  “There was one in Peachtree City that was a little closer, I think,” Mary said. “But they were closed today.”

  “You think the cat is okay?” Tripp asked, peering over his shoulder for a moment at the box with their singing companion inside.

  “I think we just scared it at first,” Mary said. “It seems pretty cal
m now. I don’t think it has rabies or anything.”

  “Good,” Tripp said.

  “It didn’t cut skin, did it?” Mary asked, recalling how Tripp’s shirt looked after the cat had jolted at him.

  “No,” Tripp said. “I think its claws just got stuck in the fabric, so it freaked out.”

  “Now, you know if the vet thinks that this cat is dangerous, there is a chance that we’re marching it off to, well, you know…”

  Tripp frowned. “Wait, you wouldn’t have it put down, would you?” he asked.

  “I just want the vet’s opinion,” Mary said. “If he thinks it’ll be okay to keep as a pet, then we can talk about it. If not, I’m going to surrender him over to the vet to deal with. He might have it put down or put in a pound.”

  “Ugh, I hope not,” Tripp said. “I really do think it just freaked out because we scared it. How did it get into the hood anyway?”

  “There’s probably a hole inside the car somewhere that allowed him to crawl up in there,” Mary said. “Something else you’re going to have to fix before you’re allowed to take that thing anywhere.”

  “Noted,” Tripp said, smirking. He was still on a sort of high after learning that he was the future proud owner of the rust wagon they had found.

  Eventually, they arrived outside the meek little building that was the veterinarian’s office. Mary lifted the small box they had trapped the wild cat in, and Tripp followed her inside. She had Tripp sit down in one of the waiting room chairs, sitting the box next to him while she went and got them checked in. She spoke politely for a few moments with the nurse at the desk before going and sitting with Tripp, and eventually, they were called back to a room. “Dr. Sharp will be with you in just a moment,” the woman said stepping out. The name Sharp rang a bell, but it drifted to the back of Mary’s mind after a moment. They sat the box on the counter in the room, and Tripp sat himself down in the one chair of the small examination room while Mary contemplated whether or not to open the box and let the cat out while they waited.

  “I’d leave it in there,” Tripp said.

  “I don’t know,” Mary said. “It seems to have calmed down quite a bit.”

  “Maybe,” Tripp said, opening up one of the magazines in the room and flipping through it.

  “Hey, is that Hannah?” Mary asked suddenly, and Tripp looked up quickly. “Right here,” Mary said, pointing to a picture hanging on the wall of a bright, smiling young girl hugging a large black lab.

  Tripp stood and went over and looked. “Whoa, yeah,” he said. “That’s weird. Look, there’s another one.” He pointed at a second framed photo, and sure enough it was Hannah again.

  “I guess the vet probably knows her,” Mary said just as the door opened, and Lenny Sharp, Hannah’s father, stepped in.

  “All right, what do we have here?” Lenny started to ask, and he jolted slightly when he spotted Mary, clearly recognizing her from the Brooks Day event.

  Mary cleared her throat and gave Tripp a head nod to let him know to sit down. Tripp scowled, and Mary could tell her grandson was glaring at the man. “It’s Mary, right?” Lenny asked.

  “That’s right,” Mary said. “I didn’t realize you worked here.”

  “I do,” Lenny said. “It’s my clinic. I’m the head veterinarian here.” He looked quite embarrassed; clearly, he knew he had not been painted in the greatest light by Cindy and Hannah. He brushed it off though and headed over to the counter where the box was seated with the cat meowing calmly inside. “So, is the stray you found?” he asked.

  “Obviously,” Tripp said under his breath, and Mary shot him a warning look.

  Lenny ignored Tripp and opened the box. The cat poked it’s head up. Lenny smiled and immediately picked up the cat and sat it down on the examination table. He began checking it over, and he pulled out a comb and proceeded to brush out some of its hair. “Okay, doesn’t look like he’s matted up too bad. You said you found this cat at your new home in Brooks? It seems rather calm. I don’t think it is wild.” Lenny poked his head out of the door and asked a nurse to come take the cat for a moment to check it for a chip.

  The nurse took the cat, and Lenny dipped out for a moment as well. “Why are you being so polite to that creep?” Tripp asked once Lenny was gone.

  “Because I have no reason to be rude to him,” Mary said. “And I know Hannah has probably told you enough about him to where you have the same aversion towards him as I do, but that is no reason to be disrespectful.”

  Tripp huffed. “Okay, fine,” he said. Tripp kept looking over at the picture of the smiling young Hannah.

  “There’s another one over here,” Mary said, picking up a picture frame that had been seated on the counter in the corner. “Looks like she used to play soccer.” The words escaped her, and Mary suddenly found herself feeling a bit uncomfortable. The phrase “used to” rang in her ear for a moment. Hannah, the daughter of a vet, had probably enjoyed running around with various animals from time to time. Based on the picture of her in the soccer jersey, she had been awfully athletic before the accident.

  A few more minutes went by, and Lenny returned with the cat in tow. He had already given it a slight hair trim and nail clipping. “So, it did have a chip,” Lenny said. “And it turns out I knew the owner.”

  “Knew?” Mary asked.

  “Yeah, the house next door to yours,” Lenny said. “A sort of local cat lady everyone called Nana. She died about a year ago. Most of her cats were rounded up, but it looks like Sweet Feet here has probably been living on his own since then. He must have been overlooked when animal control came and took them all out of the house after her passing.”

  “Sweet Feet?” Mary asked.

  “Yeah, I had a feeling this was Sweet Feet,” Lenny said with a smile. “Check out his little feet.” Lenny held the cat around the stomach facing away from him. The white and black cat meowed loudly and looked up at Mary with some rather sad looking eyes as Lenny held out one of its paws. “It’s polydactyl. It has an extra toe on each foot.”

  “Oh, wow, I didn’t even notice that,” Mary said, laughing.

  “Well, duh,” Tripp said. “It was running around like a lunatic. We didn’t have time to count its toes. Is Sweet Feet really its name?”

  “It sure is,” Lenny said. “Nana used to bring her cats up here. I remember Sweet Feet even though it’s been a couple of years since he was brought up here.” He sat Sweet Feet down and pulled a small water bowl down from the counter and placed it in front of the cat who immediately began to drink.

  “So, Sweet Feet is all up to date on shots and everything?” Mary asked.

  “He is,” Lenny said. “Just needs some basic tender loving care really. Sweet Feet, from what I remember, was always one of Nana’s tamer cats.”

  “It did freak out on us a little which is why I wanted to bring him up here so quickly to be looked at,” Mary said. “But I think we might have just scared him. We found an abandoned car in our yard and opened up the trunk, and he jumped out.”

  “Well, I don’t think you’ll have a problem with this cat if you’re wanting to take him in,” Lenny said.

  “Does Nana not have any family who would want him?” Mary asked.

  “I’m afraid Nana’s grandchildren were very quick to make sure all those cats of hers were immediately shipped off to the pound,” Lenny said. “They’re not going to want him.”

  “Cool, so we can keep him?” Tripp asked Mary, avoiding all eye contact with Lenny.

  “If you’re going to help me take care of him, I think a pet might actually be good for you,” Mary said.

  “Excellent,” Lenny said. “We’ll update Sweet Feet’s information in our system, and we still have his chip information pulled up. We’ll call and get his chip information updated too.”

  “Great,” Mary said.

  “Give me just a moment,” Lenny said. “You can head out into the waiting room now, and I’ll send you home with your paperwork.”

  Tr
ipp hesitated for a moment before picking up Sweet Feet, but the cat seemed fine now to be held. It had just needed some reassurance. Tripp carried the cat out into the waiting room, and Mary followed. It was only then that Mary realized there were even more older pictures of Hannah hanging around the clinic – it hadn’t just been in the one room. There were several large, blow-up canvases of Hannah and various animals – anything from cats and dogs to snakes and guinea pigs. Tripp was looking at the pictures while holding Sweet Feet in his arms.

  Mary could tell Tripp was on edge. She wasn’t sure exactly what was going through her grandson’s mind, but he had already shown to be the sort of kid who popped off easily. Lenny came out carrying a folder. “This is all of Sweet Feet’s old information from when Nana brought him here. I’ve gotten all of the updated information in here about today’s visit, and I’ve gone ahead and scheduled you for Sweet Feet’s next appointment.”

  Tripp snorted. “Yeah, like we’re coming back to this clinic.”

  Lenny raised a brow. “Well, you certainly don’t have to.”

  Tripp nodded at the picture of what looked like an eight or nine-year-old Hannah posed with a bunch of young kittens. “I notice you got a lot of pictures of Hannah around here,” Tripp said.

  “Well, she is my daughter,” the man said, smiling slightly.

  “Yeah, no recent pictures though,” Tripp said.

  “Well, no,” Lenny said. “It’s been a while since I’ve done any decorating around the clinic.”

  “I think you just don’t want any pictures of her in her wheelchair in here,” Tripp said bitterly, and Mary’s eyes widened.

  “Tripp!” she exclaimed.

  Lenny’s shoulders tensed up. “Excuse me?”

  Tripp turned around, staring at Lenny. “You’re really screwed up, you know that? Hannah told me all about you. You’re a real crappy dad. You got all these pictures of your daughter from before her accident all over the place. The ones of her playing soccer and running around with dogs. You keep all these pictures up and around so you can pretend she’s not in a wheelchair.”