Cat Trick

24

Maggie moved her car into her parking spot behind River Arts and drove my truck home. She didn’t ask what had happened between Marcus and me; she just squeezed my hand, pulled a Kleenex out of her pocket and handed it to me.

Owen sat in the middle of the truck’s bench seat, sending me concerned looks every few minutes. Hercules sat on my lap, his head against my chest in sympathy.

Maggie waylaid Roma in the driveway, and she must have told her something had happened with Marcus, because Roma kept her questions solely about my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Kathleen,” she said. “That needs to be seen by a real doctor.” I was too upset to argue.

The two of them drove me to the ER, which was miraculously quiet for a Sunday night. The doctor who examined my shoulder decided I probably had some strained tendons and ligaments. He put my arm in a sling, gave me some painkillers and told me to ice and rest the arm.

“Why don’t I stay with you?” Maggie said when Roma pulled into the driveway.

I forced myself to give her a small smile. “I appreciate that, but if you really want to do something for me, go help Liam let everyone know what’s happened. And would you call Abigail and get her to check on Georgia? Please? That would make me feel better.”

She and Roma exchanged looks.

“I’m all right, really,” I said. “I’m just going to take a couple of these pills and go to bed.”

“Okay,” Maggie said.

“If you need anything, you call me,” Roma warned.

“I will,” I said.

Maggie walked me to the back door and gave me a hug. “He won’t stay mad forever,” she whispered.

I let myself into the kitchen. Both cats were waiting. I kicked off my shoes and knelt beside them. Owen immediately began sniffing the sling. Hercules climbed up on my lap and licked my chin. I wasn’t going to sit around on the floor, crying. I was going to fix things with Marcus. I was going to keep apologizing until he listened.

His cell phone went to voice mail. I wasn’t surprised. There was no answer at his house. I heard something clatter to the floor in the kitchen. I went out to find Owen and Hercules with my truck keys between them. “You’re not exactly subtle,” I said, bending to pick up the key ring. “Then again, if I see him in person, maybe I can get him to listen.”

Owen meowed loudly. I looked at Hercules, and after what seemed to be a moment’s hesitation, he gave a soft meow as well. I knew it was a bad idea to be driving one-handed, but I was past caring.

The cats followed me out to the truck, and there didn’t seem to be any reason not to let them come. This time Owen looked out the passenger window while Herc sat beside me and stared out the windshield.

Marcus wasn’t down by the tents. He wasn’t at the police station, either. We drove all over the downtown, but there was no sign of him or his car. I ground my teeth together against the gnawing pain in my shoulder and drove out to his little house. It was in darkness and there was no SUV in the driveway.

I tried his cell again and his home phone. Voice mail, both times.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.” Hercules leaned against my side, and Owen walked across the front seat to rub his furry cheek against my good hand. “Let’s go home,” I said.

I pulled into the driveway, turned off the truck and pulled the key out of the ignition. “I ruined everything with Marcus,” I said. I sucked in a breath. “It’s over, and maybe it never really got started.”

I walked around the side of the house with the cats trailing me. I didn’t see the chair until I almost fell over it. It was sitting on the path in front of the back stairs.

My rocking chair.

It wasn’t in pieces anymore. It was all there, every joint strong and tight, with a new leather back and seat. It was back together, every single piece.

The chair looked wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

But not nearly as wonderful as the long-legged detective who was sitting on my back step.