For All Their Lives

by Fern Michaels

  On her days off she’d scoured art galleries until she found, she thought, the duplicate prints of the Moulin Rouge pictures that were in her father’s house. She had three now. They hung on the wall over the sofa; the vibrant colors of the flower stalls were the same as those in her pillows. Home.

  It was still too quiet, even with the rain lashing and gouging at her windows. She turned on the television and the stereo. Now she had too much noise, but she didn’t care. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She sniffed, blew her nose and wiped at her eyes. Anger at her situation engulfed her, raging through her until she couldn’t think. She lashed out with her foot, kicking at the coffee table, toppling the music box and the Japanese garden. She flung the colorful pillows in every direction, and sobbed as she threw ashtrays across the room and heaved magazines at the television set. When her anger was spent, she dropped down to the floor and cried great, hacking, gulping sobs. She wondered if she was having a nervous breakdown, if this strange behavior would continue, and for how long.

  She was calm now, her tears gone. She reached for the telephone directory, and in the Yellow Pages found a long list of psychiatrists. How was she to choose? She closed the book.

  Fear drove her as she searched in the hall closet for her raincoat, plastic boots, and umbrella. She was on the street heading for First Avenue, her destination, a pet store. She thought she was crying again, but she couldn’t be sure if her face was covered with tears or raindrops.

  She turned out to be the only customer in the shop. The owner sat behind a desk with a sheaf of papers in front of him. He waved lazily to indicate she should look around. “Call me if you need me.” His voice, Casey thought, was as lazy-sounding as he appeared.

  Casey bypassed the tropical fish tanks, the bird cages, the racks of dog, and cat and bird toys. Then she came to the animal cages. She peered into each one, searching for what she hoped would be the perfect animal to comfort her. Tiny pink tongues licked at her fingers. Soft yips of pleasure pleased her. Three times she walked up the puppy aisle. She walked up and down the kitten aisle four times. Cat or dog? Both? Two? Yes, two, she decided, for they would be lonely while she was at work. She craned her neck to look over the rack of animal toys.

  On her sixth trip up and down both aisles, she finally made her decision. She motioned to the owner. “What do you call this dog?” she asked.

  “She’s a Yorkie Poo. Six weeks. She just came in yesterday, and she’ll be gone in a few days. She’ll make a wonderful pet. I always recommend female dogs for women. You probably won’t believe this, but Yorkies are great little watchdogs.” Casey nodded.

  The moment the dog was placed in her hands, she knew she had a friend. She was so tiny she could fit in Casey’s raincoat pocket. She cradled the dog to her cheek. She felt so warm and so alive.

  Holding the puppy against her cheek, she meandered down the kitten aisle until she came to the last cage, where four kittens romped with a ball of string.

  “That one,” she said, pointing to a yellow tiger cat.

  “Good choice.” The owner beamed. The Yorkie licked at the kitten, who playfully swiped at her with one tiny paw. “They’ll get along, contrary to what you may have heard about dogs and cats. The kitten is just five weeks old, so the Yorkie will be boss, you’ll see. What else will you need?”

  Casey shrugged helplessly. “I never had an animal before. You tell me.”

  “Two kennels, two beds, leashes, food, a few toys, their own blankets, litter box and litter. It’s almost like outfitting a room for a new baby,” the owner said happily.

  “Can you deliver?” Casey asked anxiously.

  “Of course. If you like, I can drive you home with the animals. I’ll close the store for a little while. Do you live close by?”

  “Seventy-ninth, around the corner really. I appreciate it. By the way, do these animals have names?”

  “Of course. That’s the first thing I do when an animal comes in here. To me they aren’t real until they have names. The Yorkie is Samantha. Sam, for short. I thought the name would make up for her size, which, by the way, won’t go past eight pounds. The kitten is Gracie. Of course if you want to change the names, you can, but I found that once an animal responds to a name, it’s hard to get them used to a new one. It’s up to you. These little beauties are going to give you many hours of pleasure,” he said. He selected rubber toys and leashes from the rack.

  With the animals in their respective kennels, Casey wrote out a check for nine hundred dollars. She blanched at the amount but somehow managed to keep her hand steady when she wrote the check. The Yorkie, the owner said, was a pedigree and worth seven hundred dollars.

  It took the owner, Casey, and the doorman to carry everything to Casey’s apartment on the sixteenth floor.

  The moment Casey was alone with the animals, she let them free of their kennels. They yipped and squeaked as they streaked about the apartment, to Casey’s delight, piddling every time they stopped to catch their breaths. Casey felt like an indulgent mother as she cleaned up mess after mess. At five minutes to noon both animals collapsed one on top of the other in sleep. Casey thought it the cutest thing she’d ever seen. Her good mood soured when she wondered if the two pets would exclude her from their affection. Not likely, she decided, since she would be the one who fed them.

  Casey was on page seven of the dog manual she’d purchased when Matthew Cassidy’s face flashed on the screen. “And now the Noonday News!” She listened with half an ear, her eyes on the manual, when she heard Cassidy’s voice turn somber. “We’ve just learned that in the face of heavy communist resistance, South Vietnam was forced to end prematurely its military operation against enemy supply lines in Laos. The withdrawal comes only forty-four days after South Vietnamese troops, supported by American air power and artillery fire, swept into Laos in an attempt to disrupt the supply line, known as the Ho Chi Minh trail. We’re told that at the height of the operation, more than twenty thousand South Vietnamese troops were in Laos. South Vietnam suffered heavy casualties, one thousand, one hundred forty-six killed. The United States lost eighty-nine helicopters, and fifty-one Americans were killed . . . In London, Sir Laurence Olivier takes his seat today in the House of Lords . . . ”

  The despair was back again, so deep and dark, Casey thought she would black out. Would it ever be over? Would people ever understand? Would she ever understand? She didn’t stop to think, to rationalize. She dialed the long-distance operator and asked to be connected with Dr. Luke Farrell, in Squirrel Hill, Pennsylvania, person to person. “My name is . . . Mary Ashley, from TSN News in New York,” she said.

  Dear God, his voice was the same. So sane-sounding. So very, very real. She almost sobbed in relief when she heard him say, “This is Luke Farrell, Miss Ashley, what can I do for you?”

  In the space of time it took for her heart to beat three times, Casey made her decision. “Luke, this is . . . Casey Adams. I need to . . . oh, Luke, I need someone! Luke, I think I’m losing my mind. Can you . . . will you come? I can meet you at the airport. Please, say you’ll come. I’m this new person—Mary Ashley . . . I thought I . . . Will you come, Luke? I’ll meet you wherever your flight lands, La Guardia or Kennedy. Please, Luke. New York, Luke. I’m in New York City,” she said tearfully.

  “Casey! Jesus Christ, they said you were dead. I believed them. Son of a bitch, you’re alive! I’ll leave now. Christ, you’re alive. Goddamnit, I should wring your neck for letting me think you were . . . ah, shit.” His voice was so happy, so joyous, Casey laughed in spite of her tears.

  “Call me from the airport when you know the time of your flight. I’ll meet you. I can’t wait to see you, Luke. You’re all right, aren’t you?”

  “I’m fine. I’m really fine. You bet. Couldn’t be better. Jesus, I can’t wait to see you. Hang up for God’s sake so I can get to the airport. I have to go to Pittsburgh, you know. Are you gonna hang up?”

  “I don’t want to, but I will. ’Bye, Luke.”

 
; It was an asinine thing she’d just done. “I don’t care,” she said so forcefully that both the puppy and kitten awoke simultaneously. She scooped both animals into her arms, her tears falling on their silky heads.

  “He’s nice, you’ll like him,” she crooned as she dabbed at her tears. She talked to the animals then, her voice rising and breaking from time to time. They appeared to listen, content in the cradle of her arms, licking at her face, her hands and arms. As one, they leaped from her arms the moment she laughed at their antics. They stopped long enough to listen to her voice.

  “We need a routine. I’ll get the litter box ready and put down the paper for Sam. That’s how we’re going to do things until you’re ready to walk on the leash, which won’t be for a few months, according to the manual. Come along, ladies, while I get things organized, and I bet you’re hungry.” She filled dishes with the greenish-gray pellets that looked terrible and smelled worse. The Yorkie looked at her dish and backed away. The kitten pawed her dish of dry food but wouldn’t eat it. Both animals lapped at the water in a small red bowl she set on the floor. “I don’t blame you, it smells shitful. I’ll make something.” They watched her movements, their heads cocked to the side, their eyes never leaving her striding form as she opened tuna and scrambled eggs. “This probably isn’t good for you, but until I can get to the store for some canned food, it’s all we have.” She squatted on the kitchen floor to watch them wolf down their meal. Immediately she placed the kitten in the litter box. She and the Yorkie watched as Gracie scratched around before she did what she was supposed to do. The minute Casey praised her and lifted her from the box, Sam hopped in and did her thing. “I don’t think it works that way, but I’m open to anything that doesn’t cause a mess.” She gurgled with pleasure when she lifted the Yorkie from the box, calling her a good girl. “Now, go play,” she said, putting the rubber squeak toys into a small wicker basket. “This is yours,” she said, wagging her finger. “You don’t chew anything else.”

  She continued to laugh as she stepped over and around them while she straightened the kitchen, fluffed the pillows, and prepared the coffeepot for Luke’s arrival. As soon as he called, she was going to brave the rain again and run to the supermarket and liquor store for food and wine. Beer too. Hopefully, she would have time for a quick shower.

  Hating to tie up the phone, Casey placed a call to the studio and asked for Steve Harper. When his voice boomed on the wire, she lied and said she was sick and would be out for a few days.

  “You sound terrible,” Steve said, which made her feel terrible. “Stay in bed and drink lots of juice, and whatever you do, don’t go out in this rain. It’s supposed to be like this for the next few days. April showers ten days ahead of schedule. We’ll make do around here. Izzy is going to miss you.” Sam took that moment to yip at her feet. “Is that a dog I hear? You didn’t tell me you had a dog,” he said in an injured tone.

  “I have a cat too. Sam and Gracie. You never asked me, Steve.”

  “Yeah, I know. I meant to ask you to dinner too, but I didn’t. We’ll do dinner when you’re feeling better. Take care of yourself. If you need anything, give me a call.” She promised she would.

  When the phone rang twenty minutes later, Sam leaped into Casey’s arms. Gracie arched her back and circled Casey’s feet. She whispered soft words as she picked up the phone to say hello.

  “Meet me at Kennedy, three-ten. I’ll be the guy with the stupid grin, and I’d know you anywhere. Gotta run.” Casey stared at the phone. He’d never recognize her, not in a hundred years. She smiled. It might be fun to fool him.

  Casey smiled all the way to the supermarket and was still smiling while she showered and applied her special makeup. “Oh, Luke, it’s going to be so good to see you.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. She refused to allow them to drop below her lashes. She’d cried enough. There would be no more tears. Unless, of course, both she and Luke wanted to cry on one another’s shoulders.

  It was hard to pick the right outfit. She wanted to look special for Luke, so she finally chose a soft white wool skirt and a periwinkle-blue sweater. She brushed her hair till it shimmered, adding small pearls to her ears for the final touch.

  She spent another full ten minutes instructing her new roommates on apartment living. She explained that things were tidy and she liked them that way. She led them to the pantry to show them the litter box again and the thick wad of paper strategically placed.

  “It might be a good idea if you took a nap now until I get back.” Two sets of eyes stared at her. The Yorkie yipped, the cat purred. She tickled their bellies one last time before she let herself out of the apartment. She could hear them scratching at the door as she walked down the hall to the elevator. Luke was going to like Sam and Gracie. Oh, they had so much to talk about. She could hardly wait to see her old friend.

  Casey almost ran down the concourse. Only ten more minutes. The monitor said his plane was on time. She had it all planned. She would be waiting right at his gate but wouldn’t say anything until he walked past her. Then she would call him by name, he would turn, gasp, and then they would hug each other.

  He looks the same, she thought giddily as she watched the tall doctor shoulder his way through the slow-moving passengers. His eyes were searching for her, that much she could see. They locked with hers before they moved on. She smiled and let him get a little ahead of her before she called his name. He whirled, his eyes searching for the voice and a familiar face. He stared at her again. “Luke,” she said softly.

  “Casey?” His face crumpled into something that was supposed to be a smile. His tears matched her own.

  “Don’t make me cry, please. If you do, this special makeup will rub off and my scars will be visible,” she whispered.

  “Who gives a damn,” he said, crushing her to him. “I’m just so glad you’re alive, Casey. So very glad.” He buried his face in her hair, hugging her so tight that she squealed.

  “Jeez, I’m sorry. Come on, let’s get out of here. I only brought this carry-on bag. How’d you get here?”

  “Taxi,” Casey mumbled. “I own a car, but I don’t know how to drive.”

  “That figures. Who wants to drive in this crazy town anyway,” he said, linking his arm with hers.

  “Luke, thank you for coming. I can’t tell you what it means to me to have you here. I’ve missed you, everyone . . .”

  “Yeah, I know,” Luke said softly.

  “NICE DIGS,” LUKE said as he entered Casey’s apartment. “Sure is quiet. I always leave the television or radio on. I like noise,” he said flatly. “Oh, my God!”

  There was no way to describe the living room except to say it was a total disaster. The rainbow-colored pillows were torn and shredded with colorful strips of fabric dotting the floor and the backs of the sofa and chairs. The plants were upended, bits of greenery were strewn about, and dirt was everywhere. In the hallway, in the bedroom, bits and pieces of toilet tissue littered the floor. For a moment Casey was reminded of Vietnam. One look told her that Luke had the same feeling. She reached out to clutch at his arm, which felt tight as a ripcord.

  “Guess this will teach you not to unroll the toilet paper,” Luke said in a choked voice. “Reminds me of those pamphlets the VC used to drop.”

  “Where are they?” Casey groaned, glancing around for the puppy and the kitten.

  “Probably worn-out with all the work they did.” He was his old self again, Casey thought in relief. She felt better too. It was just that one intense bad moment. She motioned for Luke to follow her as she searched out her new roommates. When she finally found them, she had to clap her hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh. The Yorkie was curled comfortably in one well-worn slipper, the kitten in the other. Both were sound asleep. Luke, Casey noticed, was grinning broadly.

  “At least you were smart enough to go out and get pets. I meant to do it, wanted to do it, but never got around to it.”

  “I just did it today when . . . when I couldn’t han
dle it anymore,” Casey said quietly. “You can still do it. It’s the silence and the quietness I can’t adjust to. Like you, I need noise. We need to talk about this, Luke.”

  “I’m ready. Actually, I’ve been ready for a long time, but it had to be with the right person. No one understands. Sometimes I don’t understand either. Unless you were there . . .” He left the rest of what he was going to say hanging in the air. Instead he started to clean the litter.

  “Listen, why don’t you start that dinner you said you were going to cook for me, and I’ll make a stab at cleaning up this mess.”

  It was seven o‘clock when Casey slid the steaks from under the broiler and onto heated dinner plates. They toasted each other with their first glass of wine, and then they talked. They were still talking when the clock in the kitchen said it was midnight. At three o’clock they adjourned to the living room, where they settled themselves on the floor. As the first streaks of dawn crept up over the windowsill, Luke’s expression became distant. “Rick crashed and burned a few weeks before I rotated back to the States. I think of that guy every day. I tell myself he couldn’t make it back here. Flying dead and wounded was all he knew how to do. I heard scuttlebutt that he was going to be forced to come back home. I wonder if he—”

  “Shhh,” Casey said, placing her finger on his lips. “Don’t even think it.”

  Luke started to shake. Casey put her arms around him. “It was so damn . . . it was the heavy rains . . . that chopper. . .”