A few minutes later, Tom and Dirk walked into the room after me. After Dirk introduced himself, he pulled a chair up next to Theo’s bed.
But when he began apologizing for his mother, Theo stopped him by raising his free hand. “I don’t care about her. I want to know you—because I always wanted a brother and at my age, you’re about as close as I’ll ever get.”
Birdie laughed. “You got that right. My oven shut down a century ago.”
We all joined her in that laughter.
Then the conversation began—two gentle, intelligent men in their forties catching up on the decades they’d missed together. When football became the most passionate topic among the three guys in the room and I was tired of standing, I motioned for Birdie to follow me.
“Can you show me where those drinks are?” I asked when we were out of the room.
“Sure I can, but did you hurt yourself in that scuffle last night. I see pain in your eyes.”
As she led me to the kitchenette, I explained how I’d fallen earlier last evening and assured her I’d be fine.
I chose water and Birdie took an apple juice. We walked down the hall and I was glad to get my muscles moving. I wished I’d brought Kara’s magic pillow into the hospital with me.
“Men don’t get to the point as quickly as women, so I need to ask you a couple questions. First, did Candace explain about Mr. Jeffrey’s will?”
“She did. I always knew Norman did well—he was such a smart man. But I was surprised to learn about that million dollars. Honestly, I don’t know why anyone needs so much money, but Theo will put it to good use. I’m thinking future college students will benefit.”
“I’ll bet he left you money, too.” I unscrewed the cap on my water and took a long swig.
“Honey, that man has provided for Theo and me all these years. Why he had to go and add on more is beyond me.”
“Was it you or Mr. Jeffrey who decided to keep Theo’s paternity a secret?”
“That was my doing. Like I said, I didn’t want my boy around Norman’s family—and didn’t want gossip about Norman and me, neither. He would have married me—he begged me in fact—but a black woman and a white man back then was cause for trouble. Still is for some folks, though we’ve come a long way.”
“Thanks for explaining. My other question is about Clyde. You do know that Mr. Jeffrey wanted him to have a home with Theo?”
“Oh, Theo is pleased as punch. I think I mentioned he has a cat back there in New York City. My son is a bigger animal lover than I ever was. Every time I see Theo loving on his cat, I think, ‘There’s the Norman in him.’ They shared a passion for numbers and for cats.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, remembering Clyde’s paw on that spot of Theo’s blood.
“That eases my mind. Clyde is a special boy, and I am so glad he’ll have a loving home and have a part of his beloved Mr. Jeffrey with him from now on.”
“Things work out as they should quite often—don’t you think?”
I had to agree.
Thirty-three
The next day, with my rump feeling far better, Tom, Kara, Candace and the remaining members of Mr. Jeffrey’s family attended his funeral. But I was surprised that a reclusive man drew such a big turnout of Mercy citizens—until one after another, people spoke about the man’s philanthropy. The Mercy Animal Sanctuary, the YMCA, the Red Cross, the local hospice, and scout troops had all received generous donations from Norman Jeffrey over the years—but they had been sworn to secrecy. He’d told them, they all recounted, that he couldn’t control what they said after he was gone. If they wanted to speak, he couldn’t stop them. Shawn and Allison Cuddahee showed up, too, and Allison talked about how much Mr. Jeffrey loved each and every cat that he’d been privileged to own—and everyone had a laugh when she said that every one of them had been named Clyde.
As we were leaving the cemetery, I caught a glimpse of Birdie by Mr. Jeffrey’s grave, her head bowed in prayer. She held a piece of paper in her hands and fiddled with it nervously. This was probably the letter from Mr. Jeffrey that Tom had given to her yesterday. I was certain she would never share what he wrote to her, and that was as it should be. Two people who were meant to be together had instead spent their lives apart. I wasn’t sure I would ever understand, despite Birdie’s explanation.
The church organized a potluck lunch after the funeral. There was enough fried chicken, ribs, pulled pork, potato salad, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, baked beans and fresh rolls to feed an army. Dirk, LouAnn and Ida Lynn had been huddled together for most of the day, but once we were in that basement community room, it was time to offer my condolences to them as a family. They’d not only lost a cousin and uncle; they’d lost Wayne and Millicent, too.
I filled a plate and made my way to their table. Dirk stood and LouAnn smiled up at me. She’d had her hair professionally cut and colored an attractive silver, and I couldn’t help but notice she looked very much like Millicent—though a much kinder, gentler version.
Ida Lynn spoke up when I approached the family. “Will you break bread with us, Jillian?” She was dressed in a black vintage suit, which should have been appropriate. But the hat she wore had long, thin feathers that flashed around, and she had on elbow length black gloves and a mesh veil that covered half her face. It was flamboyant for a funeral, but I guess Ida Lynn had to be true to herself.
I put my plate down on the table and pulled out the folding chair. Sitting was easier than two days ago, but I still took it slow. “I wanted to again offer my condolences to all of you over losing Mr. Jeffrey. Today revealed a side to him that we didn’t realize existed. He will be missed by the community.”
“We used to play cards when I’d visit,” Dirk said. “I’ll miss those talks we had over gin rummy.” He stared down at his uneaten food.
LouAnn patted his arm. “I hope you’ll keep visiting us in Mercy. I can play gin rummy, you know.”
He smiled at her and picked up his fork. “I’d like that.”
“We all played cards together when we were children,” Ida Lynn said. “I could join you.”
LouAnn and Dirk stared at Ida Lynn as if she’d spoken to them in a foreign language. But after a beat, they smiled and nodded.
Maybe she was speaking a foreign language, I thought, but I liked it. I dug in to my mound of mustard potato salad. Why was funeral food always so delicious? Maybe because loving hands took part in its creation.
We all ate in silence for a moment, and then I was surprised to look up and see Birdie standing at the table, her eyes fixed on Ida Lynn. Dirk stood immediately and offered her a chair.
“Thank you, Mr. Dirk, but I have to be getting back to the hospital. I did want to pay my respects to your family—to Norman’s family.”
“How is your son?” LouAnn asked.
“He’s fine. He’ll be coming to stay with me to recover starting tomorrow. His name is Theo, by the way. And no matter how much it bothers you, he does have your family blood. All I ask is that you respect him.”
Ida Lynn did the most unexpected thing. She stood, walked around the table and embraced Birdie. When she pulled away, she said, “I apologize for my past behavior and I apologize for the people not here, who harmed Norm and who harmed your son.”
LouAnn nodded. “Theo isn’t the only one who is family. You are, too.”
Tears welled in Birdie’s eyes. “There is a forgotten soul in all this. Before you hear it on the street, I have made arrangements for Buford Miller’s burial. He was an instrument of the devil, as my pastor would say, but I forgive him. I hope all of you can, too.” She looked at me and smiled. “This here is our guardian angel. Don’t you ever forget what she’s gone and done for all of you.”
Before anyone could speak, Birdie turned and left the church hall. She was a proud woman and perhaps one of the strongest people I’d ever met.
She hadn’t seen the last of me.
Thirty-four
Clyde hadn’t exactly enjoy
ed the bath I’d given him, but today he was traveling to New York to begin his new life. My new security system had been up and running since right after the funeral and I’d been glad to return home with the cats. Theo had come by and visited with Clyde several times in the last few weeks as he recovered his strength.
It was a big day for me, too. Tom’s mother, Karen, her partner, Ed, as well as Kara, Liam, Tom’s stepson, Finn, and Candace were all sitting on my deck enjoying one another’s company. Since there was wine and beer involved, I heard plenty of laughter coming from outside.
Tom had helped me bathe Clyde while Syrah, Merlot and Chablis watched. If cats can gloat, my three gloated, glad Clyde was the one suffering through this torture rather than any of them. After we dried the big boy with a towel, I put his GPS collar back on and let him run off. The three amigos chased him, wanting a sniff of Clyde’s shampoo.
Theo and Birdie arrived five minutes later, just as I was putting a vegan cake in the oven. I had to be careful about Kara’s diet these days—it seemed to change with the weather—and a vegan cake was the safest option. Tom had finished filling a tote with the treats and toys and food I’d learned Clyde enjoyed the most.
Tom took the carrier Theo brought and set it in the middle of the living room. I lined it with the kitty quilt Clyde had used during his stay and Birdie eyed it with admiration.
“You make pretty quilts, Miss Jillian. Got to give you that.”
“Thanks, Birdie,” I said.
Tom looked at Clyde, who was already examining the carrier. “We thought we’d let Clyde get used to the thing before—”
But he walked into it, circled and sat down. He wasn’t wasting any time. That was Clyde—affable and adaptable. What good traits to have. I knelt and rubbed his cheek with the back of my hand and heard his rumbling purr one more time. I blinked back the tears that threatened. “Good-bye, friend,” I whispered.
After I stood and backed away, Theo reached in and scratched Clyde’s head before latching the door. “My plane leaves from Charlotte—had to get a nonstop so Clyde wouldn’t have to change planes. We have to be going.”
Tom handed Birdie the tote bag. “Make sure your son takes all this Clyde stuff with him.”
Birdie took the bag, hung it over her elbow and hugged Tom. Then she gave me a bear hug and told me not to be a stranger.
“I won’t. I promise.”
Theo bent to embrace me and said, “Thank you again for saving my life.”
Before they left, Tom offered to carry the cat since Theo’s shoulder was still healing, but he said he still had one good arm and he wanted to use it.
I felt tears sting my eyes once again after their departure. Clyde, with his perpetual smile, was one fine cat. I was glad he would have a fur friend and loving human friend in New York. But gosh, I would miss him.
Tom put his arm around me. “You ready for our announcement?”
I smiled up at him. “I am.”
We walked out on the deck hand in hand. Mercy Lake was still, the sun’s orange glow spreading its warmth and beauty across both land and water.
The happy conversation among our friends and family stopped when Tom cleared his throat. Everyone looked at us.
Tom said, “We have something to tell the people we love the most. You ready, Jilly?”
I nodded and in unison we said, “We’re getting married.”
Tom took me in his arms and kissed me to the sound of their cheers and applause.
There was no blinking back my tears of joy anymore. This felt, well . . . perfect.
Read on for a look at the next book in Leann Sweeney’s Cats in Trouble Mystery Series,
The Cat, the Sneak and the Secret
Available from Obsidian in August 2015.
The cramped office that served the Mercy Animal Sanctuary smelled like . . . love. There was nothing I enjoyed more than cuddling with a cat or dog starved for affection.
But on this particular sunny October morning, I had not come to comfort the shelter’s inhabitants. Instead, I sat beside my future stepson, Finn, as we waited for the shelter owners, Shawn and Allison Cuddahee, to bring out a very special cat. Whenever Finn was in town on a college break, he volunteered at the shelter. He was in town this time because his stepdad, Tom Stewart, and I were getting married in a few days. But we were here today because he wanted me to meet a little tortoiseshell kitty—or “tortie,” as they were usually called.
Since his last time volunteering, Finn couldn’t get this particular cat out of his head. Since she was still available, he wanted to adopt her. But the cat would have to live with Tom and me until Finn moved from the dorm into his own apartment next semester.
As we sat on folding chairs in the cluttered office, Snug, the African grey parrot who believed he was in charge of the place, entertained us. He promenaded back and forth on the horizontal pole Shawn had installed near the ceiling, saying, “Hello, Jillian Hart. Hello there,” and “Finn, clean the dog crates. Clean the dog crates.”
When Shawn finally came rushing through the door that led to the kennels and cattery, his face was flushed with agitation. And he wasn’t holding the tortie. “Sorry, Finn, but she’s gone again. She is the sneakiest little girl we’ve ever had.”
Finn stood. “That’s okay. I planned on working today anyway, and she always comes back. She’ll probably be here by the time Jillian picks me up.” He looked my way. “Anything I need to do to help you guys with the wedding setup when I’m done here?”
I laughed. “Though I’m certain you’re dying to wrap vines and rosebuds onto Kara’s banister, we’ll take care of it.” Kara was my stepdaughter—my late husband’s only child. She was hosting the reception at her gorgeous new house.
“Yeah, I’m probably more useful here.” Finn looked at Shawn. “Where should I start?”
Snug piped in with, “Clean the dog crates, Finn. Clean the dog crates.”
Shawn still seemed a little annoyed and preoccupied, but not with Snug. He bent and retrieved a shoe box from under the desk and set it down on the battered metal surface. He glanced back and forth between us. “You sure you want a cat who brings this kind of stuff home all the time?”
I leaned forward and examined the contents of the box while Finn merely seemed amused.
Shawn picked out a shoelace and held it up. “This couldn’t hold anything together, it’s so old.”
I spied what looked like a ragged sock, several coins, buttons, more shoelaces, a filthy little sachet pillow and a baby’s knitted hat. I looked up at Finn and smiled. “Are you adopting a cat or a magpie?”
Snug said “Magpie” three times and did a wolf whistle to top it off. None of us could keep a straight face after that one.
“That’s it.” Finn grinned. “I’ll call her Magpie. It’s perfect, Jillian.”
Shawn shook his head. “All I can say is, you’ll have your hands full turning her into an indoor cat. She’s semiferal and those types can usually be transitioned to house cats. But this one? She’s always out hunting for anything she can drag back here.” He waved his hand at the box. “And this is just from the last few days. Jillian, I want you to see what you’re getting yourself into if you plan on keeping her through the holidays.”
“She said it would be no problem.” Finn glanced my way. “Right?”
“Absolutely. We’ll manage just fine.” I smiled.
Finn went on as if Shawn and I needed more convincing. “Plus I’ll be living with her and Tom starting the first week in December and through most of January. I’ll have plenty of time to help her become an indoor cat.”
I could tell this kitty was indeed special. Finn really wanted to bring her home.
Shawn’s phone rang, and he answered with, “Mercy Animal Sanctuary.” After listening for several seconds, he said, “This cat is wearing one of my collars? You’re sure?” He nodded and glanced at Finn. “What does the kitty look like?” More listening and more pointed looks at Finn. “I’ll be right
there.”
Finn cocked his head and stared at Shawn. “Was that about Magpie?”
“Oh yeah. Did you bring a crate for that girl?” Shawn asked.
I nodded. “Someone found her, I take it?”
“Yup. And you’ll never guess who. Let me tell Allison we’re headed out. You can follow me and then please take this little troublemaker off my hands.” But Shawn smiled. He had a soft spot for troublemakers.
We left the office with Snug bobbing his head and chanting “Magpie” over and over.
• • •
The route Shawn took confused me at first. I’d only lived in Mercy for seven years. There were more back roads than people in this town. But then I recognized where we were headed and turned to Finn sitting beside me in my minivan. “How did Magpie end up at Ed’s Swap Shop?”
“You got me. This should be a fun mystery to unravel, Jillian. I love it.”
We considered Ed Duffy a relative. He was the lovable, gentle, live-in companion of Tom’s mother. He’d been collecting junk for years and actually did a steady business either swapping his treasures for different items that caught his fancy or just taking cash. Finn spent almost as much time with Karen and Ed as he did with Tom. In fact, when we pulled onto the neglected patch of asphalt Ed called a parking lot, he opened the door and Finn’s rat terrier, Yoshi, came racing straight for him. Ed often kept Yoshi at the shop when Finn or Tom didn’t plan on being home. Tom must have dropped the dog off before he went to pick up the new suit he’d bought for our wedding.
Finn opened his arms and the dog leaped into them. After licking his beloved Finn’s face and wiggling with joy, Yoshi jumped down and greeted me as he’d been taught—by sitting in front of me and waiting for me to pet him. Then it was time to say hello to Shawn, who was already crouched and waiting to scratch Yoshi behind the ears.
Ed called, “Y’all come on and help me with this little feline problem I’m presented with.”
The Cat, the Vagabond and the Victim: A Cats in Trouble Mystery Page 25
