Cat Chase The Moon

20

Peering over from Seaver’s roof, Joe looked down at Dulcie, working awayat the powder room window.She should have been inside, this was her night to stay with Courtney. When he hissed softly, she looked up. She was standing on the tallest crate digging away at the window screen—even as he watched, the screen flew to the ground ripped aside, lay tilted atop the fallen dead branches and tall grass.

The evening was nearly dark, the antiques shop had been closed for some time. At this angle, from the shop’s roof, Joe could see only the softly lit sidewalk, a reflection from the display windows; he couldn’t see into the windows themselves, not without hanging by his hind feet. As Kit and Pan appeared, from the higher roof of the apartment, Joe leaped into a shaggy stone pine and to the ground, the golden tom and Kit behind him. They stood looking at the screen and at Dulcie.

“I pulled the screen off,” Dulcie said proudly. “That woman is back, her name is Fay. I think she’s his wife, the way she acts. Courtney’s upstairs with them. When Fay and Ulrich came in, with her suitcases, Courtney and I were asleep. Courtney didn’t stir, she just slit her eyes open. She belongs here, or they think she does. The minute I heard them I flew into the powder room, pulled the window open a few inches, dove through so fast the whole screen went flying. I’d closed the glass and I’m sure I left it unlocked but I was in such a fright. Bert was still in the back. I guess he heard me, he looked out, saw the screen off but didn’t see me. Maybe he thought it just fell off, it was that old. He put it back. Maybe he found the window cracked open and locked it.” She looked at Joe and Pan. “I came back when he left and listened at the glass, that’s how I know her name. If we can open the window again, just a crack, maybe he won’t notice when he puts a screen up?”

And maybe he will, Joe thought. Pan thought the same. They could see inside where already a box of tools sat on the tile counter.

For a while, all claws dug fiercely at the window latch. If they could only open the glass, they could get in and Courtney could get out, and this time they’d make her come with them. Pan had a dry stick in his mouth, he was forcing at the edge of the latch. They had loosened it before, but now it had been made tighter. Pan looked at Joe, looked down at the towel they had left behind the crate. Wrapping it around the outside of the latch, they tried again. It took a long while before they knew they couldn’t open it. Together, the three of them headed for the roof, to make sure Courtney was all right and to get a look at Fay Seaver.

One would think that all the times they’d passed this shop, and the few times Dulcie and Kit had slipped in to admire the lovely relics, they would remember seeing Fay. The tomcats weren’t big on antiques; and all Kit had remembered was Ulrich Seaver, and the clerk. Maybe she’d thought Fay was one of the customers, or an interior designer; they came in here often, bringing their clients; the cats, staying in the shadows, had paid no attention to them; most interior designers were handsome, well-turned-out women.

Climbing the stone pine to the roof again, they made their way across the roof of the shop to the upstairs apartment. On the other side of that smaller structure they eased down onto the fancily sculpted edge of the overhang, its pie-crust décor iced with pigeon droppings. They arrived just as a woman was closing the draperies.

Was this Fay Seaver or someone else, maybe his lover? A handsome, auburn-haired woman about Ulrich’s age. As the draperies closed they left a little tiny slit at the end where a bookcase jutted out. The cats, crowding close, could just see through—and Joe Grey swallowed back a hiss.

Just look how Courtney had taken to this woman. Fay was gently holding his grown kitten, sweet-talking and cuddling her. Neither Dulcie nor Joe could bear to see Courtney smile up at her, they could both see that the calico was purring and they watched her lift a paw with delight. Joe was so disgusted he nearly bailed over the edge and left the scene.

When Fay turned to speak to Ulrich, he nodded and left the room. With both preoccupied, Courtney looked from Fay’s shoulder directly across to the slit in the draperies. From out on the ledge, four pairs of eyes looked in at her. Courtney, draped over Fay’s back, let her claws come out in fighting mode, long and sharp, not touching Fay but catching the light like rapiers, and she gave her family a wicked cat laugh. But when Ulrich returned with a large hoop such as a child would play with, and with a ball and a box, her expression changed to one of dismay.

Fay hugged her and set her down by the hoop. “Let’s start our training, shall we?”

Courtney didn’t run off, she waited patiently, but as Joe watched Fay try to manipulate his grown kitten, rage flared deep within him. He tried to think, What harm can a few tricks do? But the idea sickened him, to make his beautiful child into a slave cat. He wanted his girl out of there, and when he looked at Dulcie, she had a cold snarl on her tabby face—but now, as Fay tried to get her to jump through the hoop, the calico looked across into her daddy’s eyes with sly cunning.

It wasn’t easy to watch Fay try to teach Courtney, at this first lesson. The cats could see, from across the room and into the bedroom, Fay’s unpacked suitcase open on the bed; she seemed so eager to get started that she hadn’t even taken time to unpack. She called Courtney her “little prize,” her “shining star.” Courtney, seeming not to get the hang of this, again peered behind Fay not only scowling but sticking out her tongue, showing her hidden audience her real feelings.

Fay put Courtney down on the carpet in a better position and held the upright hoop at floor level. She held a little treat on the other side to get Courtney to walk through. Such a simple beginning; but Courtney seemed not to get it. She walked around the hoop to Fay’s side and tried to accept the bit of salmon from her hand. Fay withdrew it.

Fay tried again, and again, until at last she had Courtney stepping through. But when she lifted the hoop four inches, she never did get Courtney to hop or even step through. All four cats knew Courtney could have leaped to the ceiling, could have done all Fay’s tricks as slick as a circus tiger. Fay, frowning more and more, at last turned away looking as sour as spoiled pickles. “Is this what you brought me? Your famous exhibition cat?”

“She’s afraid, it’s something new for her, give her time. Or,” he said, looking intently at Courtney, “she’s bluffing, she doesn’t want to do tricks. Maybe . . .”

“Well, she’s not going downstairs to entertain herself, with that attitude. She can sleep up here.” Turning, she marched away to the bedroom. Ulrich joined her, just as annoyed, shutting the door behind them.

Courtney sat in the middle of the room looking at both doors. She turned to look at her cat family. She was half laughing, half weeping with frustration.

When the four cats could hear Ulrich snoring, Courtney began to leap at the door that led downstairs, wrapping her paws around the knob and swinging her hind legs. No matter how she swung, it was impossible to gain enough leverage. Was it locked? She couldn’t turn the bolt above the knob, either. She tried until Ulrich quit snoring. At once she went quiet, dropped softly down and came to the corner of the window. She touched noses through the glass with her daddy and her tabby mama, with Kit and Pan. Though barely whispering, they could hear one another well enough; but their ears were cocked for any more sound from the bedroom.

“You’re getting out of here,” Joe said through the corner of the window. “Now. No arguments. No matter what dreams they’ve sold you, you’re out of here as soon as we can get you out. We may have to ask Clyde’s help but I don’t like the idea, I don’t want him arrested for break and enter.” He looked hard at Courtney. “No more changing your mind. No more wild visions that could lead to a cage, for the rest of your life!” He glanced at his mate. “If Dulcie hadn’t accidentally locked that window . . .”

“I didn’t,” Dulcie hissed. “Burt did!”

“If I go now,” Courtney said, “if we can get me out, I’ll never know what else is going on here. Those Luthers coming in the back, opening the safe . . . counting all that money, so much money . . . things Ulrich and Fay said on the phone . . . Things I want to know and Max Harper will want to know . . .”

Her great adventure was now only ugly. Her dreams of living as a beautiful princess—a beautiful show-off, she thought, ashamed—were no more. She’d stay until she knew all the story, then she was out of there, away from this trap, free of the Seavers’ control. She needed only one more chance, and this time nothing would stop her. She’d be fast and sly and she would absolutely make her escape.

Outside the glass the four cats looked at each other. “Until we get her out,” Dulcie said, “we take turns watching, upstairs and down. Whoever’s on duty, if something bad happens we’ll get help somehow. But right now,” she said, yawning, “I’m going home for a nap.” She was so angry at Courtney she almost didn’t care—almost.

At home, once she’d had a little snack, she curled up on the couch so as not to bother Wilma. She slept deeply, escaping her anger and frustration—slept far longer than she meant to and woke awash with guilt for her anger at Courtney. She leaped up and raced straight out of the house, out her cat door, longing, now, only for her dear, headstrong youngster.

When Joe and Dulcie and Kit left Courtney locked in the apartment, Pan remained outside the window. He would stay until the store opened in the morning, then Kit would come back to switch places. That would give his lady some rest at home snuggled by the fire with her old couple; Pan knew they missed one another, these three who were so close—he knew the Greenlaws missed him, too, that they were family. But the relationship Lucinda and Pedric and Kit had wasn’t the same, Kit had been the wonder of their lives long before Pan came to them, long before Pan and the lovely tortoiseshell became a pair.

Kit was to the Greenlaws a magical creature; she had found them and they had found her as if by some mystical charm, found one another out on the empty green hills high above the village.

Kit had been watching the old couple for some days, hiding from them. She had never in her life been around humans. She was amazed at the tales that Pedric told Lucinda, many of the same stories she’d learned as a kitten tagging along with the wild clowder. Those speaking cats had let the starving kitten follow, but they were never fond of her. When they had set out to travel north along the green and empty hills, she had wanted to break away from them but she didn’t know if she could live on her own yet, and she kept following.

But then, above Molena Point, slipping off by herself among the boulders, she had heard Pedric talking. Startled by human voices, she had crept up to listen. She had found the tall, elderly couple sitting among the great rocks having a picnic. She had padded closer, had sat listening to Pedric’s stories for a long time. Then, boldly, she had stepped through the tall grass and onto their picnic blanket. Just like that, the little cat was suddenly with them. Pedric and Lucinda almost felt she had appeared out of nowhere, and it was love at first sight. From the first moment they saw her, Pedric, with his Scots-Irish background, knew that shaggy little kitten had been listening, that she could understand them, that she was different, and had the true Celtic spirit. Her delight in finding them and in listening to his stories had made her golden eyes gleam with joy.

And, Pan thought now, watching through the window as Courtney curled up on a blanket on the Seavers’ couch, Courtney has magic, too. But it is a different magic. Like my father had—like Misto still has now, living a mysterious new life in another dimension. I know Misto remembers his past lives and everyone he loved—and Courtney remembers her past lives just as he did, she can tell them just as if she sees them again, and that is the greatest wonder of all.

Sitting close to the corner of the window trying to keep warm, intending to watch Courtney the rest of the night but tired and hungry and cold, the orange tomcat, despite all attempts at vigilance, was soon sound asleep. He didn’t hear the apartment phone ring. He didn’t see Courtney wake suddenly and sit up, listening.