“Thank you.”
“I’ll leave the door open and a light on for you in your room. Just put your clothes in the basket after you’re through with the bath. And I’ll drain it for you.”
Isabella watched the door shut And then took off her clothes, embarrassed that her rags didn’t seem to fit in the rancher’s house. The basket was cleaner than her clothes. She wadded the clothes in a ball and put them at the bottom of the basket.
She got in the tub and enjoyed floating in the warmth. And then, she thought of Arthur and the cat, and cried. It was like two thirds of her were missing.
The water changed color. And she got up, toweling herself off, luxuriating in the clean towels. And she timidly put on the oversized flannel shirt and long johns. There were furry slippers. She slipped them on and wiggled her toes, happy to feel the warmth.
She moved swiftly down the hall towards the room with the open door, light spilling across the hall. It seemed so foreign. Like she’d entered another country. Disappeared into another portal. Away from Arthur. She felt like doubling over. The pain was so bad.
Savoring the freshness, she slipped between the sheets of the nicest bed she had ever known, and rolled over, amazed that she had so much room. That’s what she’d immediately noticed about California. How big it looked. Big land. Big cars. Big trees. In New York City everything felt small and compact. Her personal space had always felt so limited.
She rolled over in the softness, and thought of the New York City slums, and the boy she had loved more than any other. She had comfort now without the ones she loved. Her heart yearned for a slum if it meant Arthur and the cat would be with her.
George came in quietly. She saw him standing over her and stifled the urge to scream.
“Don’t worry. Don’t be scared. But there’s no reason to mention the part about me putting you over my shoulder at the train station to Hannah, is there?”
“No.” She shook her head.
He nodded and left.
She wished the door had a lock. She wished that Arthur was there. And the cat. She wished she wasn’t navigating this whole experience alone. She knew Arthur would find her. Arthur wouldn’t abandon her. California wasn’t big enough to keep him away from her.
Chapter Nine
What is hell but the absence of the beloved? She’d take the slums of New York back if it meant having Arthur and the cat. Trade the comfy, soft sheets of her princess canopy bed for just one more night in the slums if they were with her.
Isabella would sit with her palm up because she was used to Arthur putting his hand over hers, holding her hand while they sat side by side.
So now she sat with her palm up and noticed no one’s hand was over hers. Especially that Arthur’s hand was not over hers. Everything resonated with his absence. Her physical posturing had conformed to Arthur. And even the cat. She was used to sleeping with her arm perpendicular to her body because the cat liked to put her paws on top of Isabella’s arm and rest her head there sometimes during the night. So now, when she woke up, she noticed the absence of the cat too. Everything in life seemed reduced to the inescapable truth that she was present and they were not.
She found one of Arthur’s charcoal sketches of her in her own little suitcase. And the nude photo of her he’d taken with the borrowed camera. She’d read a biography of Teddy Roosevelt. When his first wife died, on the same day as his mother, Teddy Roosevelt went on a long trip. She considered whether having money and being able to travel to another country would help her. She concluded it would not because she would be the same person any place she went, inhabiting the same body, and every gesture just seemed to magnify his absence. She’d been with Arthur and the cat almost every hour of every day. And now, she felt too keenly that she wasn’t with Arthur and the cat every hour of every day.
All day and night, rituals for two became rituals uncompleted because there was only one and it was a ritual for two. She’d instinctively do something, and then remember someone was missing and it wasn’t necessary without Arthur. She felt incomplete. And the silence was painful. Where there had been a sweet creature purring next to her, now there was only silence.
When she and Arthur read a newspaper, they became accustomed to placing it fully on top of the box they used for a table. If it hung over the top of the side, the cat might step on it, thinking there was a solid surface underneath. Isabella kept fully putting on newspapers on top of the night stand. And then, she cried, because there was no reason to do that anymore. The cat wasn’t with her. She missed her purring. She missed watching her leap in the air. Isabella was living in comfort beyond what she’d even let herself imagine as a street rat and it felt like hell because Arthur and the cat weren’t with her.
Rolling over, waking up, she would see the stages of the sun, and then darkness again, not getting up until one or two days had passed. She opened her little suitcase and pulled out the one dress she’d brought with her. The Children’s Home Society had passed out clothes and little suitcases to them for their new lives.
Hannah was in the kitchen, darning socks for one of her sons, when Isabella entered in the morning. The sun alighted on her hands. They weren’t soft like the women she and Arthur saw at Macy’s or Bergdoff’s when they snuck in the stores during the day. Isabella would stare at the clothes and imagine wearing them one day.
“Are you hungry?” Hannah asked.
Isabella nodded.
Hannah got up and cracked eggs in a pan.
“Would you like some toast with your eggs? Bacon?”
No one in Isabella’s life had ever made breakfast for her before.
“After breakfast, I have another room to show you. This is a special one,”Hannah said.
Isabella followed Hannah down the hall to the most magnificent room she’d even seen. Hannah’s library. There were bookcases ten feet high with glass doors covering the books. Isabella felt home. Books reassured her.
“You can read anything you want,” Hannah said.
She picked out Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. It would become her favorite novel.
She thought of the cat. Sometimes, it seemed like the kitty was still with her. Like she could hear her purr and meow. She’d hear all the reassuring sounds the kitty would make to lull her to sleep on the streets.
Isabella had never seen so many rooms and windows before. Such an incredible expanse of land around it. She thought of the days of feeling cramped, Arthur and her always seemed to battle other street rats, and real rats, and other lost people and critters, to carve out even a small place to nest on the streets of New York. Their nests were always as fragile as a bird’s in a windstorm. They were always vulnerable to the elements, the weather, other people and critters crawling, competing for the same space.
“I’m not sure I like any of this fabric for our new dresses.” Hannah picked up fabric from a table in the library. Isabella looked on shyly. She’d never had more than a few dresses in her life.
“Should we go to town?” Hannah asked.
“Absolutely,” Isabella replied. She felt a little uncomfortable with her own boldness. She’d never been spoiled before. She knew if she told Hannah she liked a style of hair ribbon, Hannah would buy one in every color for her.
“And, I’m going to get you a haircut.”
Hannah drove a car that was bigger than the boxes she and Arthur found to sleep in when they lived on the streets. She missed Arthur. And the cat too. It didn’t seem possible that she was still living without them. And at night, when she turned the lights out, nestled in the soft, billowing high grade cotton sheets, and fluffy silk pillows, she wished only for Arthur. Living with him on newspaper was better than living on silk without him.
“It’s nice to have you here, Isabella,” Hannah said, turning towards her in the car. Hannah would look directly at Isabella. Although Isabella hadn’t learned to drive yet, she surmised it would be a good idea to keep looking forward while driving based on the number of times other
cars almost hit them. Hannah mastered the sudden swerve for when she was staring at Isabella and heard a honk from another car. She had a habit of talking a lot while the roads were winding and the car would drift off.
“Don’t worry, Isabella. This is a safe car. It’s a Studebaker,” she said.
“It’s not the car I’m worried about. It’s whether the driver is safe.”
“You don’t want to say that, Dear. People make cracks about women drivers. It’s not right. Look, at those beautiful new window displays. Henry owns that store too.” She pointed out the shoe shop that was one of the first on Main Street.
“Lets look at shoes first.”
With Isabella, you never had to suggest looking at shoes more than once.
Hannah parked the car diagonally, satisfied when the tires bumped up against the curb.
“Maybe I should wear more yellow.” She patted the shiny yellow paint on her Studebaker.
“Dress to match my car.”
Henry opened the door to the shoe shop for them.
“This shop is good looking now.” Henry looked up and down at Hannah and Isabella.
Hannah laughed.
“Charmer.”
“Can I get you girls something to drink while we try on shoes?”
“Libations would be lovely.” Hannah practically jumped on a chair.
“He’s sweet on you.” Hannah patted Isabella’s hand while Henry poured their drinks. Isabella felt sick. She saw a poster on the wall.
$100 Reward. Male 16 or 17. Indentured boy, Arthur, ran away from citrus rancher and shop owner, Henry Dalton. Black hair, green eyes, six feet two inches tall. Citrus thief. Reward paid upon indentured boy’s return to owner.
Isabella rubbed her shoulders. She felt frightened of what could happen to Arthur if Henry kept pursuing him. She’d do anything to protect Arthur. She wished she could reach him. She hated waiting. And with Arthur, all she could do was wait. Arthur would find her. They’d build their life together in California. Maybe he was hiding. She looked out the window. If she could come up with an excuse, maybe she could get away from Hannah and look for Arthur.
She knew Arthur was out there looking for her. They couldn’t communicate. Not through the usual telegrams, letters or phone calls. Telepathy was stronger. Like a cat’s intuition, telepathy told her that Arthur was alive and well and looking for her. He would find her. Isabella knew she’d be with Arthur again. It felt as certain as the sun rising tomorrow. Some things on earth were so certain.
When Isabella woke every morning, she would look for Arthur, and feel the absence cut through her. And she kept expecting the little paws that tread so softly and quietly about her. The white cat never lept directly on her. She would leap politely over her. She never hissed at Arthur or Isabella. And she would put her paws up gently on their legs if she wanted to be picked up and carried.
Chapter Ten
Arthur wouldn’t stay long at the ranch where he went to pick up some money as a day laborer. He slept out in the citrus groves at night and dreamed of Isabella. The rancher expected seventeen hour days of ranch work. Arthur ached for Isabella. And for his art. He treasured his first sketch of Isabella. He’d created it with charcoal and butcher paper he’d salvaged from the trash.
For Isabella, it had been nearly two years since she’d seen Arthur and the pain was as raw as the moment they split apart.
Arthur grew more determined to find Isabella everyday. He couldn’t stand the work on the ranch. He was restless to get back to art. He wanted to be a photographer too. He suggested
to the rancher that he could photograph the oranges for ads and increase sales to the east coast.
“Good idea, Arthur. Why don’t you leave early today and pick up a camera at Henry’s store on my account? You can sign for it,” the rancher said.
He didn’t know that Henry, the rancher he’d ran away from, also owned the town’s department store. And he didn’t know the girl he loved would be there with Henry that day. He picked up a camera.
When he saw her, he stopped, and stood rooted to the floor. Then, he began to run towards her.
He watched her jaw drop when she saw all the beautiful clothes. He remembered when they snuck inside Bergdorf Goodman as street rats in New York, scouring the floor to see if rich women had dropped any pocket change.
“Marry me, and this will all be yours,” Henry said. Startled by Isabella’s lack of appreciation for him, he was beginning to wonder if she was slightly retarded.
Isabella couldn’t stop thinking of Arthur. When they reached a gold pocket watch display, Arthur was there with a Pinkerton Detective.
“We caught him stealing a camera, Sir.”
“I’m buying it. I meant to buy it,” Arthur said defiantly.
“He was headed for the exit.”
“Take him to jail. Miserable cur. That’s the indentured boy who ran away from me. Citrus thief.” Henry’s lips looked like he was sucking on a lemon.
“NO!” Isabella yelled. “Please don’t take him to jail. I’ll do anything for you.”
“Why? Do you know him?” Henry asked jealously.
“He’s a common street rat. I read that it’s a good omen to do a kind deed for a common street rat before your wedding.”
Henry smiled.
Arthur looked ill.
“I will find you. To infinity,” he said.
“What did you say to my fianceé?”
“Isabella, this isn’t right for you.” Arthur clenched his fists.
“Come with me.”
“Where? To jail? I don’t think so.”
“Take him away.” Henry barked.
“No, Henry.” She struggled for words. “He was like I was once,” she said finally. “Until I met you. Please pay the Pinkerton Detective the reward and let him go. We need to do a good deed before our wedding. I read it will bring good luck to our marriage.” She felt desperate to save Arthur.
Henry paid the reward to the Pinkerton Detective from his billfold.
“Release him,” Henry barked.
“To infinity,” Isabella whispered.
And Henry and Isabella married. In a small ceremony. Hannah, George, and Henry looked very happy. Isabella did not. She thought only of Arthur. She had saved him from jail. There was no price that was too great to help Arthur.
When she came out of the bathroom that night, she caught Henry rifling through her suitcase. He held up the nude photo and sketches of her.
“Who did these?”
“I was a model in New York. I hated it,” she said.
She felt sick at being with Henry. Arthur was always on her mind. He was her first thought in the morning. He was her last thought at night. And sometimes, she imagined she heard the meowing of the cat. She lept up and looked out the window the first time it happened. She had the feeling the cat was somewhere out there. And she just hoped, always, that the cat was happy and well taken care of wherever she’d gone.
Chapter Eleven
Zeus napped in Jack’s biplane, named Tatania, until he heard Jack approaching. Then he lept out of the plane. Once he’d heard the sound of Jack’s biplane. Once was enough. He also didn’t like the idea of being lifted far off the ground. He yawned, the satisfied yawn of a cat who knows what he wants, and gets all the naps he needs, and jumped out of the plane. He’d nap on his favorite front porch chair instead.
Being deaf, Tatania wasn’t bothered by plane noise. Jack held out his hand for Grace and she took it, as she stepped into the passenger seat of the plane. She picked up her goggles and pink scarf. Tatania jumped in the plane and nestled on Grace’s lap. Grace put Tatania’s matching goggles and own pink scarf on her. Jack jumped in the pilot seat and put on his white scarf and goggles.
A Great War fly boy, Jack took the plane up like an ace. He glided over the turrets of the Hotel del Coronado, and flew them out over the ocean, towards La Jolla. Grace watched the hotel grow smaller. She wished Zeus could be with them.
; But she sighed contentedly at Jack piloting and Tatania snuggled up on her lap. Up in the sky, with Jack, and one of the cats she loved, anything seemed possible. Tatania kneaded her lap, swivelled her ears twice, and for what felt like a minute, Grace worried that Tatania would pull her trick of becoming invisible in the plane. That would be unnerving. Tatania stopped before she swivelled her ears three times, the number it took for her to become invisible, and seemed amused at Grace’s expression.
Jack piloted the plane along the California coast rich with land. The ocean sparkled like a Sapphire beneath the plane. She felt safe with Jack. For a moment, she imagined herself dancing on the wing, like the stunt women she’d seen in the aviation shows at Tent City. Tatania reached a paw up to Grace’s shoulder, as if suggesting it wasn’t her best idea yet. Tatania was right. Better to stay snug in their passenger seat then face the elements on the wing.
They passed Point Loma’s light house, beckoning to ships to come closer. She hadn’t planned on Jack, Tatania or Zeus in her life. On her way home from Finishing School, she’d met Jack on the train to California. Then her uncle and guardian died mysteriously. And lost her inheritance in a Ponzi scheme. Jack was the Pinkerton Detective assigned to the case. He saw her as who she was. Not as her temporary circumstances. When the case was over, she wanted to be a detective. Jack quit Pinkerton because they wouldn’t hire women. And they founded their own detective agency: Wentworth & Brewster. It wasn’t the life she’d expected but it was the life she loved.
Now when she saw the orange trees appearing beneath them, from the plane, she thought of orphans brought from the East to pick them. Jack dipped a wing slightly, he knew the Point Loma Lighthouse keeper. The light flickered in response. Grace’s stomach flipped. Tatania didn’t even stir. The cat had bonded with Jack immediately when she was a kitten. She’d let him fly her up, down and all around. Grace had never seen a cat trust anyone as much as Tatania trusted Jack.
“If people want to leave their spouses, why don’t they just say so instead of mysteriously disappearing?” Grace said when they landed in La Jolla.
Magical Cool Cat Mysteries Boxed Set Volume 3 (Magical Cool Cats Mysteries) Page 8
