by Foster, Lori
“Nope,” Dickens said. “She goes like a machine. And she doesn’t know about letting us sniff and stuff. I’m worn out.”
“Did you get a whiff of that big, black rock with the moss on it? Wow, I want to check that out again.”
“Don’t rub it in,” Dickens said. “I was on the wrong side of Rose. Missed the whole thing.”
Madeleine yawned. “If I wasn’t nervous, I’d be sleeping like a dog.”
“You are—”
“Yeah,” Madeleine snapped. “I know, I am a dog. And I’m dog-tired.” She sniggered.
They fell silent. Lightning bugs zigzagged in the gloom.
“Do you believe what the alley cat said?” Dickens said.
“Try to be kinder,” Madeleine said. “She’s a snob without a cause and you should feel sorry for her.”
“She’s got a big head and a bigger mouth,” Dickens said and made a grumbly sound. “What’s in it for us if Simon and Rose start liking each other a lot?”
“Clawdia’s person turns all happy,” Madeleine said.
“He does scowl a lot,” Dickens remarked. “But I still don’t see why it should make any difference to us.”
“You know cats,” Madeleine told him. “Selfish bunch. She’ll probably get better food or something. We won’t get anything.”
“You sure of that?” Dickens said.
Madeleine thought about it. “Nope. Rose could get happier, too, if Simon’s happier and does nice things for her.”
“What would he do?”
“How would I know?” Madeleine said. She was tired but too nervous to sleep. “Scratch her ears? Pat her back?”
“Mmm,” Dickens said with a longing sigh. “What about scratch her belly? I bet that would make her so happy she’d definitely let us inside at night.”
She only had nine lives and the way things were going, or not going, she’d use them all up before Simon and Rose got together. That being the case, Clawdia thought she would end her days still putting up with Simon’s unpredictable moods. Unpredictable moods meant divided attention for a deserving cat, and that would not do. It just would not.
He’d locked the door to the outside before he went to bed. She knew how to get out easily enough—through a window in the bathroom—but from the noises Simon was making, he could erupt from his bedroom again at any moment.
Sounds of the bed groaning and the sheets tugging while Simon tossed around came from the bedroom. He would get more crotchety by the second.
Oh, grow up and calm down, Simon. Why couldn’t people be more like cats; too sensibly concerned for themselves to need anyone too much.
Actually, she did need Simon. She even liked him, which could be inconvenient.
He was making so much noise he’d never hear her leave.
She shot through the trailer, imagining the picture of lithe speed she must make, and vaulted through the window over the bath.
Clawdia kept running and didn’t stop until she reached the pen where those two dogs were.
“Wake up,” she said, careful to keep her voice down. “Tonight’s the night. We’ve got to act.”
From the painted wooden box with a hole cut out in the front for a door, came Madeleine first, then Dickens. They snuffled and Clawdia was reminded of a former life when she had lived, very briefly, on a farm. Pigs snuffled. Yuck!
“It’s nighttime,” Dickens said.
“I wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t told me,” Clawdia said. “I don’t know how long it would take to get my person over here if I left it up to him. We have to do something drastic to make him come.”
Dickens yawned so hugely his teeth glittered in a big, white oval with a dark hole in the middle. Clawdia didn’t like the way it looked.
“We’ve had a hard day,” Madeleine said. “We’re worn out.”
“We don’t have time for your problems,” Dickens added. “I’m going back to bed.”
“Bark,” Clawdia commanded, ignoring his rudeness. “Bark really loudly.”
Madeleine was horrified. “Why would we do that?”
“Just do it.”
“We will not,” Dickens said. “You want to get rid of us, that’s it. That’s it, isn’t it, Madeleine?”
“Is it?” Madeleine said. “Has all this talk of yours been a plot to make us bark at night and wake up Rose? So she’ll decide to get rid of us and you’ll have this lovely hill all to yourself again?”
Clawdia was speechless.
“Well, was it?” Dickens asked.
“Ungrateful wretches,” Clawdia said. “If I wanted to get rid of you, you’d already be gone. I want you to help me for the good of everyone concerned. Now, bark.”
“Won’t,” Dickens said.
“Bark because there’s a fearsome beast hanging around waiting to eat you.”
“There isn’t,” Madeleine said, but her teeth chattered a bit.
“No,” Clawdia said. “There isn’t. But we want them to think so.”
“They won’t though,” Madeleine said. “They’ll just think we’re a nuisance. And when they come to tell us off, and Rose says how she’s taking us back to the adoption place, you’ll be off in your cozy bed again, laughing at us.”
Clawdia had a good think. “I see your point. But you’re suspicious creatures and you’re wrong. I’ve seen the way Rose looks at you and she likes you. That means you’re good for her. That means she’s nicer, which will make Simon want to be with her even more—enough to finally do something about it and get it over with before he drives me mad!” She took a huge breath and tried to calm down.
“Barking won’t do it,” Madeleine said quietly. “But I’ve got an idea.”
Clawdia didn’t recall asking for ideas but she kept quiet.
“We’ll dig a hole under the fence and you’ll come in. In the morning they’ll find us asleep together in our doghouse and then they’ll know we want to be together. So they’ll get together. How’s that?”
“Stupid,” Clawdia said without preamble. Asleep together in their doghouse? Holy horrors, what an alarming thought. “It won’t work.”
“You come in,” Dickens announced. “We’ll get ourselves all wet from the water dish, rough up our fur, then set up a ruckus. Once they come running, we go in the doghouse like we’re hiding out together. Protecting each other because we got attacked. We’ll make the hole under the fence huge, big enough for a tiger to come through.”
“You’re not normal,” Clawdia said. “There aren’t any tigers up here.”
“A nasty great racoon could hurt us.” Madeleine spoke in a breathy rush. “Or a mongoose, or … a snapping turtle. What does it matter? They won’t know what it was but they’ll see us together and take us inside to keep us safe right away.”
“And since I belong to Simon,” Clawdia said, “and you belong to Rose, they’ll have to stay together to look after us.”
“Will they?” Dickens asked, sounding doubtful.
“Of course they will,” Clawdia told them and started scratching up dirt at the bottom of the wire fencing.
“Cats are useless,” Dickens said and went nose-to-wire with the fence, spread his back legs, and set to work excavating a large hole the way it ought to be done.
Two in the morning.
Simon stared at the readout on his clock and surfaced from the fog between sleep and consciousness. He hadn’t actually slept at all yet.
Rose was gorgeous. Everything about her was all-woman. If he held her she would be warm and soft—feminine.
He growled under his breath, threw off his twisted covers, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Ask her over for a cup of coffee, or a glass of wine. On the porch where she’ll know she’s not threatened.”
On the porch of his isolated trailer, surrounded by big, dark trees and with no other living soul for miles around. Sure, she definitely wouldn’t feel threatened in those circumstances.
It was hopeless.
“You love me anyway, Clawdia,�
�� he said and winced. Who said anything about love? “I did. I must be mad.”
“Come on, girl. Off the bed so I can make it habitable again.” He patted around near the bottom of the mattress where Clawdia settled each night once she decided she wasn’t going to be allowed to go hunting small critters.
She didn’t meow, like usual.
He felt emptiness, the sense of being completely alone, and flipped on a light. No Clawdia anywhere that he could see.
Fifteen minutes later Simon knew his cat wasn’t in the trailer. After a further half an hour, he was certain she couldn’t be anywhere in the immediate vicinity. If she was, she’d come when he called her. She was good about that.
A tromp to the lane with the aid of a flashlight still didn’t produce his cat. He wished he didn’t care, but he did. A lot.
Across the lane moonlight silvered oak leaves and settled a subtle gleam on the roof of Rose’s house. She would be sleeping. No way could he either wake her up or try to sneak around her yard looking for a cat. Or could he?
“Intruder,” Dickens said and clamped his mouth shut to stop himself from barking. He ran back and forth, glaring into the darkness.
“Shhhh,” Madeleine said.
The hole wasn’t finished but Clawdia slithered beneath the fence and popped out on the inside of the pen. “What is it?” she said. “Why are you fussing? We’re not ready yet.”
“Intruder,” Dickens said through clenched teeth. He pulled his lips back from his gums and growled deep in his throat. He couldn’t keep still. “Intruder,” he yelled.
“Intruder!” Madeleine echoed, and let out a howl.
Dickens leaped about, all of his feet shooting into the air at the same time. He hurled himself against the wire with a rattling crash.
“Good heavens,” Clawdia said. “You’re both mad. Where’s the water bowl?”
“No time,” Madeleine shouted. “There’s someone in the yard. Bark. Hurry up and bark.”
Bark? Clawdia narrowed her eyes and listened. This intruder issue wasn’t her thing, but she was in their territory so she would go along. She raised her head and yowled as hard as she could.
Rose flung herself from the bed and stood up, her heart pounding.
The dogs were barking.
They’d been quiet every night until now.
Don’t put on a light. Whoever was out there would see exactly where she was in the house if a light went on.
Whoever?
She fumbled about for the phone and tried to hit the right buttons. At least she managed to illuminate the panel.
The noise got louder, the barking, and the shrieking.
Rose pulled on her robe, then she held still and listened.
Dickens and Madeleine barked and howled, but there was another sound. Wailing and, she thought, snarling. Another animal was out there.
She tore open the bedroom door.
What could it be?
If there was a coyote out there it could probably climb the fence and get the dogs—her dogs—those poor little things.
There wasn’t time to get help.
Running, her long nightie winding around her ankles and slowing her down, Rose rushed through the house to the kitchen. The only weapon she could think of was the garden rake she’d left leaning against the wall just outside. That and as much noise as she could make were all she had to fight with.
She wouldn’t do anything stupid, just try to frighten the attacker away.
Sobbing now, she wrenched the door open.
Damn it!
He’d forgotten about the dogs. They were going mad.
Shoot!
Kicking away the flip-flops he’d shoved on, Simon sprinted for the dog pen, murmuring what he hoped were friendly sounds as he went. “It’s okay, boys,” he said. Why hadn’t he found out their names? “Okay, okay. Good dogs. Quiet down. It’s okay. You want treats? Shut up, you little punks! Shut up, damn you!”
He burst around the corner of the house and something hard smashed onto his naked left shoulder.
Rose screamed. A motion sensor flooded the area with light and he saw her, arms raised, hands clutched around the handle of an evil-looking rake—and her eyes shut tight. She screamed again.
And the rake, this time while he flinched up at its sharp tines, slashed toward him again.
“Rose,” he said, grabbing the rake and colliding with her. “It’s me, Simon.”
The dogs howled madly and he heard a shrill caterwaul.
The woman in his arms clung to him as desperately as he held her.
Rose had never expected to have Simon Falzone, shirtless, shoe-less, his jeans riding low on his lean belly, sitting in her kitchen.
She had never expected such a thing, or visualized such a thing—but she would never forget it now.
“Are you sure it’s okay with you for me to be here?” he said.
Did he have any idea how she felt having him with her? He wanted to be there, she could feel it in his smile and the open, interested way he looked at her.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she told him.
His smile widened. “You make good coffee,” he said. “I admit I’m addicted.”
“Me, too.”
They had decided on coffee once the adrenaline stopped pumping and their combined energy hit around zero.
“I think you should think about having Madeleine and Dickens in the house when you’re at home,” Simon said. “Not that it’s my business.”
“No, no, I agree with you. I never had pets before and the run was there so I used it. Look at them—they’re so cute.”
The two dogs lay, side-by-side, on the mat inside the kitchen door, with their heads resting on crossed paws. Their brows had shot up as if they knew they were the topic of discussion.
“Nice dogs,” Simon agreed. He had returned all of his attention to Rose, who felt warm under his gaze.
“Clawdia’s amazing,” she said. The cat sat at a distance with an expression of serene disdain on her haughty face. “Really beautiful.”
“Really beautiful,” Simon murmured.
Rose got up and piled oatmeal cookies on a plate. “These were only made last night,” she said, setting them on the table in front of him.
“I’ve lived up here for six months,” he said. He took a cookie and ate it in three bites. “That means we’ve known each other for six months.”
She didn’t know where he was heading with that remark but she thought she liked it. “I guess so.”
“Would you let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night?” He looked at his watch and grinned. “Make that tonight?”
Flustered, Rose turned her coffee mug around and around. “You don’t need to do that. You’re feeling bad about what happened out there.”
“Yes, I am. But that’s not why I need to have dinner with you. I just need to—and want to. Will you?”
Both dogs got up, walked to sit at her feet, and stared up into her face. They almost looked as if they were trying to tell her something.
“Look at them,” she said and scratched each one between the ears. She got licks from rough tongues.
“You’re not answering me.”
“I’ll cook for you,” Rose said in a rush. She didn’t want him to go out of his way. “You don’t seem to like going out much.”
“You’ve noticed,” he said. “I like knowing that.”
Rose rubbed her forehead. “Sorry, I shouldn’t tell you how you feel about things.”
“Why not? I don’t go anywhere, or not often. But that’s because I haven’t had a reason to. I’d like to take you into town if you’ll let me.”
She looked back into his blue eyes. “Thank you, then. Yes.”
“Great!”
He looked too happy to be putting on an act.
Impulsively, Rose touched the back of his hand and said, “I read your cartoons. Your drawings are wonderful.”
Simon stared at her. “I know when you get home each day.�
��
“What?” She leaned closer. “What do you mean?”
“I listen for your car. I like to know you’re back safely.”
She swallowed.
“Does that feel threatening to you?” he asked.
“No,” she whispered. “Look at this.” She got up and pulled a scrapbook from the top of the refrigerator.
Simon took it from her and set it on the table. Slowly, he turned pages, although she could tell he wasn’t really seeing the cartoon strips she continued to clip and paste each day.
“I scared you badly tonight, didn’t I?” he said, resting a hand on top of the book.
“I could have killed you.” She laughed and heard a touch of hysteria in the sound.
“We could call it a weird beginning, only we’d already begun, hadn’t we?”
She thought about him listening for her car, and her daily sessions with the scrapbook. “Looks like it.”
“I’ll come over for you around six, if that’s okay.”
“Perfect. I was going to go walking again but I’d rather go to dinner with you.”
“We could walk together tomorrow,” Simon told her. “I do a lot of climbing around out there on my own.”
Dickens spoke from the side of his mouth, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Not in here,” Madeleine said sharply. “Go to the door and whine. Now.”
“Not really, silly,” Dickens said. “It’s these two. They’re soppy over each other.”
“Mmm.” Madeleine sighed. “It’s lovely.”
“Sometimes we have to suffer irritation for the good of all,” Clawdia said from her spot not far away. “The end justifies the means.”
Simon wanted to touch Rose. Just touch her, feel the softness of her skin, her warmth, but he figured he’d better take it slowly.
“It’s kind of nice to have some routine,” he told her. “If you’re serious about the exercise we could make it a standing date. Not that you need it for anything but keeping fit. You’re perfect.”
He closed his fool mouth. What was he thinking, going on like this?
Rose smiled. “Thank you.” She turned pink again. “I’ve got to be a responsible pet owner and get these guys out regularly.”
Simon had to work at not trying to take her in his arms. “They don’t always have to come,” he told her quietly.
