by Patricia Fry
“You weren’t scared during the dream were you?” Brianna asked.
“No, not until Iris started making it seem like I’d flipped my noodle and was seeing my dead husband.” She shivered. “That’s just too weird.”
“Tell us about your other-worldly sightings, Bri,” Savannah encouraged, after they were seated on the patio of the restaurant and had ordered their meals.
“Well,” she said, smiling at Lily, who jabbered to her dolly in baby-babble, “recently, I was just chilling in a hot bath after a grueling day at work when I heard someone call my name. ‘Brianna, Brianna.’ I grabbed my washcloth, tried to cover as much of me as I could, and frantically looked around the room. When I didn’t see anyone and I didn’t hear anyone, I decided it must have been someone from the other side. So I listened real carefully, but I didn’t hear anything else. After thinking about it, I was sure the voice I’d heard was Dad’s. Like you said, Vannie, I felt very much at peace for the rest of the evening.”
“Oh, pshaw,” Margaret spat. “You have the biggest imagination. That was just a thought that came into your mind or maybe you were in a dream state and you dreamed it. When you thought about your dad, of course, you felt warm fuzzies.”
“So you don’t believe, Auntie?”
“Hell no. I believe that what we think we see are actually memories or thoughts coming from inside, not from outside or from some other world in some other dimension. That’s what makes sense to me.”
Savannah opened a juice pouch for Lily, then said, “Bri, tell us about when you actually saw Dad.”
“Well, there was that time in Mexico. I was in the spa dining room when I had a kind of out-the-corner-of-my-eye type sighting. I glimpse someone wearing the same kind of polo shirt Dad wore. But when I took a closer look, the vision had vanished. I think it’s a matter of my subconscious showing me something my conscious isn’t quite ready to see. Know what I mean? Sure made me smile, though.”
“Oh, hogwash,” Margaret spat. “Now can we change the subject? This one freaks me out.”
Brianna winked at Savannah. “And she says she doesn’t believe.”
“Yeah, Auntie,” Savannah said. “If you didn’t believe, it wouldn’t frighten you.”
“Here’s our lunch,” Margaret said, obviously relieved at the interruption. “Looks good. I’m hungry.”
****
Over an hour had passed and the women continued to chat while sipping designer coffee and nibbling on petit fours, when Margaret picked up her phone. “Well, I’ll be.”
Savannah gazed across the table over her latte cup. “What?”
“Max found my watering can.”
“Where?” Brianna asked.
She looked sheepishly at her nieces. “Right where I always keep it on the porch next to the spigot. See?” she offered, showing the picture Max had texted to her phone.
“And you’re sure you looked there?”
“Yes, Vannie. I’m as sure as I’m sitting here right now.”
Brianna began to chuckle. Soon her chuckle accelerated into a giggle.
“What’s so damn funny?” Margaret demanded.
“Well, I was just thinking,” Brianna paused and grinned at her aunt, “maybe one of the spirits was playing a trick on you.” When Margaret peered at her suspiciously, Brianna continued, “They do that, you know. Some of them are real jokesters.”
“Where do you get that stuff?” Margaret huffed.
“Oh, I read and I observe. That’s all.”
“Wait!” Margaret shouted, looking at her phone screen again. “Holy cow, Vannie! Look! Who’s that?”
When Savannah stared into the screen, she shrugged. “Well, it’s Rags. When did Max take that picture?” She smiled. “It’s cute.”
“Five minutes ago,” Margaret said.
“What?” Savannah screeched. “Let me see that. Where was it taken?” She studied the photograph more carefully. “That’s your house—there’s your red watering can. What’s Rags doing over there?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Vannie. But there he is, plain as day.” Margaret narrowed her eyes and leaned toward Savannah. “Do you think he had something to do with my missing watering can?”
“No. How can you think such a thing? A cat couldn’t carry off something that size. Even if he could, why would he?”
“Oh, why does your cat do any of the things he does?” Margaret spat.
“Ki-ki?” Lily chirped, leaning toward Margaret and trying to see the picture on her phone.
“Yes,” she said, showing it to the baby. “See the kitty? That’s your kitty.”
“Ki-ki,” she repeated pointing and smiling.
Savannah stared at the phone screen again. “I’m afraid that is our kitty, baby girl. Bad kitty.” As if thinking out loud, she added, “How did he get out, for heaven’s sake?”
Cringing a little, Brianna said, quietly, “It could have been me. I might have left the kitchen door open when I went out looking for your gardener.” She added, in her defense, “You know how Rags takes advantage of things like that.”
Savannah nodded. “I sure do.”
“I’m sorry,” Brianna said.
“I know. It’s okay. No harm done.” Savannah looked at her aunt. “I assume Max will hold onto him until we get home. It’s okay with me if he’s put in solitary confinement. It wouldn’t hurt him to be punished for running off like that.”
“You think that will teach him a lesson, do you?” Margaret asked snickering. “How many times have we locked him in when he visits us? And he still comes back the next chance he gets. Oh no, jail is not a deterrent for that cat. He likes it at our house.” She chuckled. “In fact, Max’s text says Rags brought him something.”
“Uh-oh, what now?” Savannah asked.
Brianna laughed loudly. “A page from Vannie’s steamy diary? Oh…oh…oh, I got it—some of her skimpy underwear.”
“Gads, I hope not,” Savannah said, frowning. “But I wouldn’t put it past him, that klepto.” She turned to her aunt. “What was it? What did he take to your house?”
“Look,” she said, showing her the phone screen again. “Here’s another photo from Max.”
“Who’s that?” Savannah asked, squinting.
“I don’t know. A stray, I guess. Only…”
“Only what?” Savannah asked.
“Only, that cat’s wearing a harness. Did you see that?”
Savannah looked more closely at the screen. “Well, that’s odd. It looks like one of Rags’s harnesses. Wait! Auntie, how do you suppose Rags’s harness got on that other cat? I didn’t even know it was missing.” She thought for a moment, then said, “Uh-oh, I left it on the porch railing the other day. Rags rolled in some mud when I took him out to the corral with me. Darned cat. So I washed it and hung it to dry. Those kids…I’ll bet one of those kids from next door found it and put it on their cat. Do you think this is their cat?”
“I don’t know—look at her ear.”
“Her ear?” Brianna leaned over to take a look. “Is she wearing an earring?”
“No. It’s clipped. This cat was part of a TNR program. He or she has been trapped, neutered, and released.” Margaret looked across the table at Savannah. “Looks like Rags may have lured her away from a cat colony.”
Chapter 2
“I hear you had a couple of visitors this afternoon,” Savannah said to Max a little while later when she found him inside the cattery.
“Sure did,” he said.
She thinned her lips in disgust. “Where did they come from, do you know?”
“Well, I was heading to the trash barrels when I spotted Rags walking up the driveway; the golden girl was following along behind him.”
“And she was wearing his harness?”
He nodded. “She also had a problem, which I think is why Rags brought her here. You weren’t home, so he came to see if I could help.”
“What was wrong?” Savannah asked, concern in
her voice.
“Someone decided to give her a necklace.”
“A necklace?” Brianna asked, laughing.
He held up a string of plastic beads with a large bow attached. “Yes, it was tied pretty tightly around her neck. The bow hung down and she kept stepping on it, making it hard for her to walk. It looked as though she—and maybe Rags—had been chewing on it, probably trying to get it off her. By the time they got to me, she was coughing a little. It was starting to choke her.”
Savannah cringed. “Those darn kids.”
“Yeah, it probably was the new kids on the block, but I doubt they were trying to harm the cat. They just don’t understand the danger,” Max reasoned.
“Or they’re little brats,” Margaret said in her usual crusty manner, “and need to be walloped a good one.”
“Or educated,” Savannah suggested. “Maybe I’d better make another call to the family and see what I can find out about the situation over there. Wanna go with me, Bri?”
Brianna rolled her eyes at the others. “Why not? This could prove interesting.”
“Well, come on, Rags and Golden Girl,” Savannah said, reaching into a large pen for the cats.
“I’ll carry the big guy to the car for you,” Max offered.
“Ki-ki,” Lily said from her car seat when she saw them place the two cats in the back of the car and close the hatch.
“Yes,” Savannah said, “our kitty and a new kitty.”
Lily pointed. “Ki-ki.” When the baby saw Brianna slide into the front passenger seat of the SUV, she started to fuss. “No, Auntie Nana,” she said. “Auntie Nana.”
Brianna quickly turned and looked at the baby. “Vannie, she said my name! Did you hear that?”
Savannah chuckled. “I sure did. I think she wants you to sit back there with her.”
“Really?” Brianna said, her face lighting up. “How sweet is that?” She stepped out of the car. “Aunt Maggie, she wants me to sit with her. Is that precious?”
Margaret smiled. “She knows what she wants, that one.”
“And how to get it,” Brianna added, opening the back passenger door.
“Hurry, Bri. Don’t let the cats out.”
“Okay, I’m in,” she said after quickly closing the car door. She scooted toward Lily and said, “Auntie Nana is here now. Do you want to play some more?”
At that, Lily pointed to her foot and said something Brianna didn’t understand. “What does she want, Vannie?”
“Um, it sounds like piggy.”
“Oh, I get it. We were playing five little piggies a while ago.” To the baby she said, “Piggies, you want Auntie Nana to play piggies with you?”
Lily smiled and nodded.
“Okay, we have time to play one or two rounds of piggies before we get home. Let me have that little foot,” she said playfully.
****
Twenty minutes later, the sisters stood on the front porch of the Crane family home—Brianna holding Lily in her arms and Savannah standing next to a cat carrier.
“Hello,” Savannah said when her knock was answered. She noticed that Tiffany looked even thinner than she had when she’d first met her. Maybe it’s the leggings and snug top she’s wearing, she thought.
“Hi,” Tiffany greeted, brushing her mousy blond bangs away from her face. She twisted her hair into a knot on the back of her head. “What’s that?” she asked, when she noticed the carrier at Savannah’s feet.
“I’m sorry to bother you again. We’re just wondering if this is your cat.”
“Certainly not,” Tiffany said, taking a few steps back. She peered into the carrier. “Is it that orange one? I don’t know who it belongs to, but I’ve told my children not to encourage it. We don’t need a bunch of dirty animals around here.” She picked up an infant who had crawled to her. Before she could continue, a four-year-old with a mouth ringed in chocolate wandered in. “Justin, I said no more cookies.” She turned to Savannah and Brianna. “I’m sorry. It’s been a hectic day.” She then called, “Timmy, come get Justin, will you?”
Savannah and Brianna watched from the porch steps as an eleven-year-old walked up to his mother. “What? Why?”
“Just go clean him up. And put the cookies away, please.”
“Come on,” the boy instructed the youngster. When the child resisted, Timmy struggled to pick him up and carried him out of the room.
“Boy, you do have a busy household,” Savannah observed. “I thought things were busy at our house and we have just the one. By the way, this is Lily,” she said, nodding toward the toddler in Brianna’s arms. “She’s almost sixteen months. And this is my sister, Brianna. Bri, this is Tiffany.”
The woman nodded. “Hi.” She motioned toward the baby she held. “This is Allia. She’s eight months old.”
“Bay-bee,” Lily chirped, pointing at the infant.
“Cute,” Tiffany said.
Savannah smiled at baby Allia. “She’s darling.” When she noticed that the woman seemed distracted by a sudden increase in children’s voices behind her, Savannah said, “Well, I didn’t mean to disrupt your household. I just want to find out where this cat belongs. Do you know?”
The woman shook her head. “Sure don’t.” She then shouted into the room. “Klara, leave him alone. Go play with your sister.”
“She’s no fun,” the little girl complained.
Tiffany gave her guests a strained smile. “They’re twins,” she explained, “but boy are they different. Klara is an active social butterfly and Kira is a thinker.”
“Oh, there are two of them? I guess I’ve only seen Kira.”
“In your yard?” she asked.
“Yeah, a couple of times I saw her sitting under an old apple tree on the other side of our orchard.”
“Yes, that would be Kira. I hope you don’t mind her being there. I understand her need for peace and tranquility and she’s not going to get it here.” Before Tiffany could finish her thought, a girl of about nine ran up and grabbed her mother around the waist as a boy who appeared to be four or five charged after her, shouting, “She did that pinch thing again! That hurts!”
“I know, Tommy. Now Klara, I want you two to find something constructive to do—preferably in separate rooms.” When neither child budged, she said to them, “Please, go. Now!” She then addressed Savannah. “No, I haven’t seen the cat before. Sorry I can’t help you.” She started to close the door, when Kira appeared and stood next to her mother.
“Hi Kira,” Savannah said smiling down at the girl.
Tiffany put her arm around the child, who made quick eye contact with Savannah, then looked down. When the child noticed the carrier, she kneeled to take a look inside. “Sunbeam,” she said quietly.
“You know this cat?” Savannah asked.
Kira nodded.
“Where does she live?”
The child thought for a moment, then shook her head and retreated into the room and out of sight.
“Kira,” Tiffany called. “Can you tell Mrs. Ivey where the kitty lives? They want to take her home. She’s lost.”
Kira reappeared briefly, saying, “She’s not lost,” before disappearing into a hallway.
“Mom!” came a loud voice.
“Oh dear,” Tiffany said, obviously rattled and embarrassed. “I’d better go. Sorry we can’t help you.”
“Yeah, thanks anyway.”
“Nice to meet you,” Brianna called out just before the door slammed shut. “Wow!” she said as they walked away. “Are you sure you and Michael want more children?” She shuddered. “Man, that was freaky. Do you think it’s that way all the time?”
“I can’t imagine living in that sort of chaos,” Savannah whispered. “That was downright disturbing.” She picked up the carrier and peered in at the cat. “Now what?
“I don’t know; that little girl said she’s not lost. Maybe just let her find her way back home.”
Savannah pondered the sugg
estion. “You may be right. I don’t know what else to do.” Lowering the carrier to the ground, she opened it and said, “Okay, sweet girl. There you are. Go home now, will you? Don’t be late for supper.” She turned. “Yikes, speaking of supper, I’d better get something going. Mom should be here in time to eat with us.” Before stepping away, however, she watched to see what the golden cat was going to do. When the cat simply sat, giving herself a bath, Savannah suggested, “Maybe if we stop watching her she’ll go home. Come on,” she urged. The two women walked several feet, then turned again. Savannah smiled. “Good. There she goes.” She glanced at her watch. “Wish I had time to follow her. I’d like to know where she came from.”
“Too late,” Brianna said. “She just disappeared around the corner there. I hope she makes it home okay.”
Suddenly Savannah stopped. “Oh darn.”
“What?” Brianna asked.
She reached for Lily. “Here, let me carry her for a while. She’s heavy.”
“Tell me about it,” Brianna said, shaking her arms before picking up the empty carrier. “So what did you forget?”
“I meant to talk to the kids or Tiffany about putting things around a cat’s neck. It’s dangerous.” She sighed. “Well, I can cover that when they come over to learn about horse safety.” As they approached Savannah’s house, she bumped her sister and asked, “Hey, how’re your kitties?”
“Oh, Frankie and Snowball are wonderful. I love spending time at Bud’s house with them. Wish I could have them at my place in Straley, but with my schedule, it just wouldn’t be fair to them.” She turned to Savannah. “I never knew what you saw in cats all those years until now that I have cats of my own. Of course, Frankie and Snowball aren’t your ordinary cats.”
“What?” Savannah said. “You don’t like cats? You only pretended to love Rags? What did you do to him all those times you cat-sat for me—lock him in a closet; tie, and gag him?”
“No. I’ve always liked Rags, but he’s not an ordinary cat, either.” When Brianna noticed Savannah’s smirk, she said, “Really. I’ve never known cats like Frankie and Snowball. They’re so cute, affectionate, entertaining, and responsive. You should see how they greet me when I arrive at Bud’s on the weekends.”
