Summer by the River

by Debbie Burns

  Ignoring her, Josie rushed out barefoot as well, no doubt intent on grabbing Zoe. Myra followed, watching helplessly as the driver stepped from the car. He hung next to the door as Buttercup offered up a second, more pronounced growl. “Easy, dog.”

  The passenger door opened, and Carter stepped out. “Buttercup, come here, boy.”

  Zoe had been staring at the stranger—a young man who only had eyes for Josie—but let out a squeal of delight and ran around to greet Carter. Buttercup let down his guard and followed, eager to greet his owner.

  It was the whirling snowflakes most likely, but Myra felt a touch detached from her body. At the very least, it was as if time had slowed down. Josie had stopped walking midstep and was staring at the driver as if she were staring through a door that led to a different world.

  “What the shit,” the young man said finally, a grin spreading over his face. “Five and a half years, and all you can do is stare?”

  Myra looked to Josie for an answer, but Josie didn’t notice. There was something oddly familiar about him, the shape of his eyes, nose, and mouth. Myra racked her brain, trying to remember if she’d met him before.

  The young man started moving, setting time into motion again. He locked his arms around Josie, enveloping her without her consent, smashing her face against his chest.

  “It’s me, Josie. It’s me.”

  It took a second or two, but Josie’s arms locked around him just as tightly, and she was racked by sobs.

  Myra grappled for a different explanation than the one rising to the forefront of her thoughts, the seemingly impossible one that might well be the only way to make sense of things.

  Josie’s brother wasn’t dead after all.

  Chapter 33

  Josie couldn’t quite get ahold of her thoughts. Everything from I’m hallucinating to Holy shit, someone cloned Sam raced through her mind. For a second or two, she even wondered if she’d dreamed up her brother’s death in a stress-related breakdown.

  But that wouldn’t explain Zoe.

  “How?” she sputtered, trying to regain control of her heaving lungs. It was as if there were two of her, one who was distant and removed from everything happening around her, and another who was sobbing and losing control of her arms and legs. She stepped back and brushed the tears from her eyes to clear her vision. She looked from his face to the faded scars on his neck left by a long-ago run-in with an aggressive dog. There was no mistaking him. He was older and as thin as when he’d been struggling with a heroin addiction, but the guy holding onto her arms—the one keeping her upright—was Sam.

  “If I was my doppelganger, I’d wouldn’t be able to remember how off-key you were singing to me to get me to sleep when we got out of foster care that first time.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, fighting away tears that had always been harder for him to shed than her. “And now that I’ve found you, you’re never getting rid of me. Ever. So, you can tell this overprotective boyfriend of yours that, if he wants to keep you, he’s going to have to fill out a set of adoption papers for me too.”

  Josie doubled over, bracing herself with her hands on her knees and gasping for air. Her feet were burning from the frozen ground. This was real. This was Sam. He was right here in front of her.

  “Mommy, what’s wrong?” Zoe was beside her, tugging at her shirt.

  The fear in Zoe’s voice lifted Josie a little above the wave of shock rocketing through her. She stood up and brushed away more tears. “This is my brother, Zoe. I haven’t seen him in a long time. I’m just really, really happy to see him.”

  The flurries had picked up in intensity but were still whipping about the air, adding to Josie’s disorientation. Looking around, she noticed that everyone’s watchful gaze was fixed on her. Myra, Zoe, Sam, Carter, even Buttercup. Except for Tidbit, who hadn’t followed them out.

  “I didn’t know you had a brother,” Zoe said, leaning shyly against Myra.

  “I didn’t either. Not anymore.” It came out in a whisper. She couldn’t stop crying, and not just crying, bawling. And her hands were shaking wildly.

  “How about we get you inside,” Carter suggested, motioning toward the back door. “Where you can warm up and sit down.”

  “Should I get her some juice like when you came?” Zoe piped up, lifting a foot to brush off the bottom of it.

  “Yeah, that’d be good,” he said. “Pour a glass for Myra, too, will you?”

  Zoe nodded and ran ahead. Buttercup trotted along after, his bushy black-and-white tail hypnotic in the whirling snow.

  “Look at you,” Sam said, taking Josie’s hand and starting toward the house. “I don’t remember you being so short. What are you? Like five four?”

  “Five six.” The reply was automatic, but the words got stuck in her throat. Her jaw was shaking, too, and her tongue felt oddly numb. Sam. Sam was walking next to her. Telling her she was short.

  Carter, who’d been a step or two ahead of them, stopped. “Your cat.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Sam let go of her hand. “Let me grab him. Josie, I’ll meet you inside.”

  Josie stopped in her tracks and turned to watch, afraid he’d disappear in the blustery snow, and this would all be a dream she’d spend the rest of her life trying to have again.

  “I’m sorry,” Carter said, coming back to stand next to her. “I should’ve called. I didn’t think you’d believe me until you saw him in person. I should’ve known how hard it would be on you.”

  “I can’t even believe it now. Carter, how? How did you find him?” Pulling her gaze off Sam, she noticed the bandage covering Carter’s neck and the stain from drops of blood that had seeped through it. “Your neck! What happened?” A different type of alarm coursed through her veins as she brushed her fingers over the bandage.

  “I nearly severed his jugular, that’s what happened,” Sam called out. Josie looked to him for clarification. He was hoisting the biggest cat Josie had ever seen across his arm and shutting the car door. “Accidentally. I’ll come back for the food and litter we picked up at the gas station in a minute.”

  “That’s a slight exaggeration,” Carter replied, his voice a few decibels quieter than usual.

  “It wasn’t far from it, was it? He’s supposed to be on bed rest the next couple days,” Sam added, joining them with a big-eyed, cream-colored tabby cat over his arm. “So, seeing that he’s the one here who’s closest to death at the moment, I think we should switch directions and get his ass to lie down. Then, you and I can go back five and a half years and take turns filling in the holes. What do you say?”

  Even though Josie wanted answers, the chaos of life pressed in, and she found herself having to wait to get them. Tidbit, whose cat sense must have been on overdrive, met them at the door, barking and whirling in excited circles. Myra walked into the hall from the kitchen, attempting unsuccessfully to usher Tidbit away.

  The cat, who was every bit Tidbit’s size, looked down from Sam’s arms, flattened his ears, and hissed. “I guess the six-hour car ride got under his skin, because he’s pretty chill with dogs. I’ve seen him walk up to a Rottweiler and sniff noses without an ounce of hesitation.”

  “There’s a few stray cats who hang around the yard,” Myra said, “too feral to want our company, but they keep the mouse population in check. Tidbit has gotten into the habit of chasing them when he can. Though, I’m confident he wouldn’t have a clue what to do if he ever caught one.”

  Zoe squeezed in ahead of Myra, holding a nearly overflowing glass of cranberry juice out for Josie. “Here, Mom.” Her eyes grew as big as saucers when she spotted the giant cat. “Oh, a kitty! Can I pet her?”

  “It’s a him,” Sam said, looking intently at Zoe for the first time. “Let’s give him a minute to get used to the place. He’s got claws and all. I’d hate for you to get scratched.” After a pause, he added, “I didn’t think you’d
be so big, Zoe.”

  “I’m six,” she replied as if it explained everything. “I’m in first grade too. My teacher is Ms. Richards. And I like cats. But not as much as dogs.”

  “Same here,” Sam agreed. “You know what they say, it’s best to just rip that Band-Aid off.” Without any more precautions, he lowered the giant cat to the floor. “I’m pretty sure he’s a Maine coon,” he added. “They’re supposed to be good with dogs.”

  Face to face with a real cat, Tidbit stopped circling in overzealous anticipation and scooted back a foot, the hair along his spine puffing out like it had been electrostatically charged. After a deliberate look around, the cat stepped forward, sniffing Tidbit on the nose and then along his body. Tidbit let out a warning “ruff” and shuffled backward another step or two. He looked up at Myra as if in confirmation that this wasn’t how meeting a cat for the first time was supposed to go.

  Interested in the newcomer, too, Buttercup circled back from the parlor, stepping over Tidbit for a sniff.

  “Hey, I can’t vouch for how he is around cats,” Carter said, stepping forward as if to grab the cat but hesitating. Buttercup’s tail was wagging, and the cat went straight from sniffing him to rubbing along his front leg. Tidbit ducked underneath Buttercup to yip at the cat, and Buttercup responded with a loud and determined bark that sent Tidbit backing up against Myra. Of the three of them, the cat seemed the least fazed by any of it.

  “Well, it looks as if this is going to work out just fine,” Myra said. “You said you have food for him? Let’s give him a minute, and we’ll find a quiet place to feed him. I haven’t had so many animals in the house since my kids were young. I suspect if walls could talk, these ones would bid you both welcome.”

  “What’s your cat’s name?” Zoe asked. “And I want to help feed him, Myra.”

  “Ahh, I just call him Cat. He’s not really mine, at least he wasn’t. He kinda came and went out of my apartment when he wanted.”

  “He looks like a fuzzy blanket,” Zoe said, dropping to her knees and extending her hand. The cat walked over and rubbed his cheek against it, a soft purr emanating from him that made Zoe squeal in delight.

  The better part of an hour passed before the chaos died down. When it did, Josie tucked an overtired Zoe into bed and said good night to Myra, promising to explain more in the morning when she hopefully understood more. “The one thing I do know is that he’s the real thing.”

  Carter, who was clearly both groggy and in pain, pressed a kiss against her forehead and went to lie down for a bit as well. A few of Josie’s questions had already been answered, like how Carter had found him, but countless more were rising to the surface.

  Even though she’d come out of her shock, Josie still held her breath as she made her way downstairs to find Sam again. What if this is just a dream?

  It wasn’t, she promised herself. And a giant cream puff of a cat had been wandering the house to prove it. She found Sam in the kitchen, standing in front of the commercial fridge—doors wide open—eating a cold piece of today’s quiche.

  “How come you guys have so much egg casserole?” he mumbled with his mouth full. “It’s like crack.”

  Seeing him, hearing him—a relief swept over Josie almost big enough to buckle her knees. Sam was very much alive and still very much Sam. And he was standing in her kitchen. She walked over and locked her arms around him, appreciating the slightness of his frame that was all bone and lean muscle.

  “It’s quiche,” she answered. “It’s even better warm. We run a tea garden if Carter didn’t tell you. There’s so much because the weather was bad, and it was a slow day. And I’m still having a hard time believing you’re real.”

  “So that explains the fifty giant containers of loose-leaf tea in the pantry. At first, I thought you were running a dispensary.” He rested his free hand over the top of her head. “And I can imagine it’ll take a bit to really sink in for you. It’s hard enough for me, and I believed you were alive the last five and a half years. But like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”

  When Sam took another bite of quiche, and she could feel a few crumbs falling into her hair, she stepped back and crossed over to the counter, brushing it out. “I’m still completely freezing. Want a cup of tea?”

  “You got any coffee?”

  “We do, but I’d rather make you a cup of tea.”

  Sam shrugged. “What the hell, I guess we’re not in Kansas anymore, huh?”

  “We hardly ever had money for coffee in Kansas. And trust me, you’ll like it.” After pulling out two cups, Josie headed into the pantry and scanned the canisters of tea and tea blends. Sam liked sugar, so she knew he’d be a fan of the Peppermint Patty, with its heavy mint and licorice-root flavor.

  “You’ll like this one.”

  A few minutes later, steaming cups of tea in hand, they headed for the front parlor where Sam’s cat was making himself at home on the couch after eating and exploring the house. Sam was finishing off his second scone; this one pumpkin. “I’ve pretty much been living on eggs and Ramen Noodles,” he offered in explanation, wiping his hands and not caring where the crumbs fell.

  He’d probably changed in many ways she’d yet to discover, but his eating habits hadn’t changed a bit. The Sam she’d known had been insatiably hungry since he turned thirteen—at least when he hadn’t been in the thick of addiction. And he’d left messes like he was leaving a trail.

  With Sam’s appetite, she guessed he hadn’t survived on Ramen Noodles and eggs by choice. Money had most likely been tight.

  “Fair warning, you might want to name that cat before Zoe does,” she said, watching the cat roll onto his back and blink his eyes closed.

  “Yeah, why’s that?”

  “You asked earlier how Buttercup got his name. Zoe’s pick of names likely differ from yours, and she’s hard to resist when she’s passionate about something.” After a short pause, she added, “So, could you tell how much she looks like you?”

  “A little. I could see it in the eyes. I think she looks more like Jena though.”

  “It’s not easy for me to picture Jena without thinking of her best friend pulling my hair and punching me in the face, so maybe I’m not the best judge.”

  Sam frowned. “I, uh, never got a chance to explain. I didn’t plan on sleeping with her. She came onto me and, I don’t know, it just happened.”

  “You don’t have to apologize; the very best thing in my world came out of it. But honestly, I suspect you were a pawn in a game she was playing that didn’t work out in her favor. She suspected something was going on between me and Nico when he stopped sleeping with her, even if she couldn’t prove it.”

  “Yeah, I kind of figured she was using me.”

  “All’s well that ends well, right?”

  Josie wasn’t ready tonight to talk about how they should move forward with Zoe. Of course, knowing Sam was alive, they’d have to find a way to explain a very complicated truth to a fragile young mind, but the only thing Josie knew for sure was that her relationship with Zoe was never going to change.

  “For us, at least.”

  Sam started telling her about some of the people from back home who’d either gone to jail or were shot or killed in the last several years. Most of them were Sam’s friends only, ones he’d made when he’d begun spiraling downward and mixing more and more with addicts and drug dealers. But she could put faces with several of the names, and her insides twisted at so much loss.

  They talked through the night. It was after five in the morning by the time the holes were mostly filled in, and Josie had a better picture of Sam’s life the last several years. The questions that remained would wait until they’d had some sleep. She’d known all along Sam had made it out of the drugstore and been shot a half hour later outside their apartment, but she’d always wondered why he’d gone back there when he’d told her not to
. Thinking he had more time than he did, he’d gone back to grab some things so they could hide out a while. With their mom and Zoe. Only he hadn’t had as much time as he’d hoped.

  Josie only cried once, and that was when Sam promised that he’d been clean and drug free the entire time he’d been apart from her. “It took dying to figure out I wanted to live.”

  After a final trip into the kitchen where Sam helped himself to another slice of quiche, this one spinach and feta, Josie showed him to the empty room next to Myra’s. She flipped on the light and smiled at the skeptical look on Sam’s face as he took in the lavender bedspread, lace doilies, and flower-printed wallpaper.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got anything a little less effeminate in this massive place?”

  Josie smiled and shook her head. “Most of the rooms were last updated in the nineties, and the bulk of the furniture is a century or more old. This place was a Victorian bed and breakfast for years.” She pressed a kiss into his temple. “The seventeen minutes you spent in another world didn’t take the Sam out of you, at least.” She had a feeling she’d fall asleep seeing the chilling spattering of scars on his chest for a long time to come.

  “Not nearly as much as not knowing where you were for so long.”

  A few tears dampened her eyes, but she blinked them back.

  “It’ll be better now,” he added.

  “That’s for sure.” She was stepping out and about to close the door when she spotted the giant cream puff of a cat heading her way. He sauntered past Josie and pounced on top of the bed, curling up in the middle without so much as acknowledging Sam’s presence. “You may not think of him as yours, but he’s happy with your connection, however you define it.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to say this in front of the old lady, but I’m pretty sure he’s got fleas.”

  “We’ll get him to the vet this week, and her name’s Myra. You’ll love her when you get to know her. She’s the kindest person I know. And as for the cat, if you and Zoe don’t come up with something better soon, I’m calling him Creampuff.”