Authors: Samantha Garman
I got out of bed, careful not to disturb the papers. The chaotic mess was something only I understood. Taking the stairs slowly, I went into the kitchen and put on water for tea. Just as it started boiling, I heard a sharp mewl coming from outside. It was grating and whiny, but the neediness went straight to my heart. At the sound of it, shivers danced up and down my spine. Opening the back door, I stared out at the lake, seeing nothing. The warm air of early summer clung to my skin. It was the kind of morning that only made my longing worse.
I felt something rub up against my leg and almost let out a shriek.
The culprit of the noise was an emaciated black cat staring up at me with slanted green eyes. It sauntered into the farmhouse with a swish of its tail and a cock of its head.
“What are you doing here?” The cat waltzed in as if it owned the place. “I’m not going to lie, I’m not one for cats.” I closed the back door, and the cat purred as it wrapped itself around my legs.
It sat down on the kitchen floor and licked a paw and then looked at me and
meowed
. I went to the cabinet and pulled out a can of tuna fish. “You’re going to have to settle for this. I don’t have cat food.”
Jules padded into the kitchen, covering her yawning mouth. She gave a startled yelp when she saw the cat voraciously attacking the tuna.
“What is that?” she asked, slinking around the ragamuffin animal. She filled the coffee pot and pressed brew.
“A cat.”
“I know that. But where did it come from?”
“Outside.”
“It could have fleas,” Jules said in disgust. “
Or worms
.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m calling Luc. They have cats on the vineyard that catch mice. He’ll know what to do.” She looked at me. “You have of smear of something on your cheek.”
I nodded. “Ink, probably.”
“I would say I’m surprised, but I know you.” She picked up the phone and dialed Luc. Thirty minutes later, the cat was napping when Luc walked through the front door.
He crouched down and examined the animal. “Well, it’s a ‘he’ for one. Two, I see no hopping fleas, so that’s a good sign, but I brought some flea shampoo anyway.”
“What about worms?” Jules demanded.
He shot her a grin. “We won’t know that until he poops.”
“Ew.” She wrinkled her nose.
Luc rolled up his shirtsleeves and glanced at me. “Have you ever given a cat a bath?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
He sighed in resignation at the anticipated battle to come. “I’ll help you. The first time is a bit tricky.”
•••
The little bugger protested, loudly and angrily, but I grabbed him by his meager scruff and said, “Listen, you. You’re a guest in my house. You want to stay, you need a bath.” Surprisingly, he quieted, and Luc laughed in surprise.
“What are you going to name him?” Jules asked.
“
Chat
.”
Luc raised an eyebrow. “You’re naming him the French word for ‘cat’?”
Chat
meowed and I smiled in triumph. “He approves.”
Jules stood up from the kitchen table. “You guys got this?” she asked rhetorically. Without waiting for an answer she announced, “I’m going to shower.”
I waited until I was sure she was gone before saying, “You’ve got to get her out of here.”
“Has she finally gotten on your nerves?”
“No. Not at all. That’s why you’ve got to get her out of here.”
“I don’t understand.”
My hair was falling out of its ponytail. I shoved loose strands behind my ears and rested my hands across my expanded middle. “If she doesn’t leave now, I’m afraid I’ll never know how to live without her, live alone in this house.”
He was quiet and then, “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
I pretended to study my cuticles. “You both need to start living your lives. It’s not her job to take care of me. You all have keys, so you can come and go as you please. I doubt I’ll be left alone for long periods of time. Besides, I don’t have any Jack Daniels or a straight razor.”
Luc’s lips did not quirk into a smile at my dark jest.
“I’m sleeping regularly. I’m eating regularly. I’m okay.” I didn’t think there was a need to mention the dreams.
He looked at me for a long moment. “I want to propose to her, Sage.”
“I guessed as much.”
“I mean, soon.” Worry pervaded his eyes.
“You’ve been waiting, haven’t you? Because of me?”
He gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders.
“Don’t wait anymore, okay? Not on my account.” The idea that my best friend would soon be planning a wedding filled me with warring emotions. Duality lived inside me. But when Luc proposed and Jules said yes, because she would say yes, I’d slap a smile on my face. I’d be happy for them, even though it would remind me of all I’d lost.
Chat
, looking sleepy and motley, settled down in the corner of the kitchen. Before I knew it, he was asleep.
“Should I pick you up some cat food?” Luc asked, as if he was grateful to change the conversation.
I made a face. “I refuse to have that stuff in my house.”
“You going to keep feeding him tuna?”
“He likes it okay, I think.”
I looked at
Chat,
whose tiny belly rose and fell. I envied his calm sleep, and I wondered if it was the first peaceful night of his young life. He was mangy and thin, on the brink of starvation, but his cry had been powerful. His pain had literally called to me.
We were linked, this cat and I.
•••
I pulled up the collar of Kai’s old flannel shirt, feeling comforted by the familiarity of wearing his clothes. My belly felt stretched and thin, like a layer of jam spread over too much toast. “Are you on ‘Sage watch’ today?” I asked, leaning against the doorway of the nursery.
Armand spread out a blue tarp across the floor before he looked at me and smiled. “You all but kicked Jules out.”
“I did no such thing.”
“That’s not the story she’s telling.” His grin grew wider.
I sighed. “She knows me. I tried to spin it so it sounded like it was about her and Luc instead of her and me. Frankly, I would’ve been happy if she stayed forever.”
“She feels guilty—for leaving you.”
“She shouldn’t. She’s here. Just not
here
.” I gestured to the empty house. Empty except for one very strange cat, Kai’s clothes, and me. “How are Jules and Luc settling into the cottage?”
“They’re nesting. Jules has a thousand things going at once.”
“Yeah, she’s a force.”
He paused. “I’m worried about her.”
“What do you mean?”
“She doesn’t know how to sit still, does she?”
“No. She’s a doer.”
“She’s having a hard time adjusting, Sage.”
“She doesn’t speak French very well. It will take her longer to feel at home here.”
“She doesn’t speak French at
all
.”
“Maybe she should enroll in French classes at the university. She needs other people besides us to interact with,” I said.
“You should tell her that. She’ll accept it from you.”
“Maybe. She hasn’t been here for very long. I think we’re all just—adjusting.”
Chat
lurked in the doorway, a thin black shadow. I patted my leg and he came to me. I leaned down and scooped him up into my arms, running my fingers down his knobby back. He was eating constantly, he’d put on some weight, and his fur had started to grow back. His alien green eyes stared into me, through me. He understood me in the instinctive way animals seemed to understand people. Maybe we had found each other, maybe we were meant to save each other.
I watched Armand open a can of paint and prep it for the pan and roller. “It’s not your job to paint the nursery. I can hire someone.”
He shot me a ‘don’t be ridiculous’ look. “Pull up a chair, hang out with me. Green, right?”
I nodded. “Can I at least offer you a beer? When you’re finished. Consider it payment for services rendered.”
He grinned. “Sure, thanks. You guys seem to be getting along.”
“Who? Me and
Chat
? I think he tolerates me. I have become a guest in my own home.” I continued to stroke
Chat
until he’d had enough and jumped down from my lap.
Armand laughed. “Yeah, that’s the way of cats.”
“He sleeps on Kai’s side of the bed,” I blurted out.
Armand didn’t take his eyes off the wall he was painting. “Does he?”
“Yeah.”
He sighed, set down the roller, and came to me. “Stand up.”
“Why?” I asked even as I did as commanded.
“You need a hug.” He put his arms around me, and I settled myself against the firmness of his chest.
I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder. He pulled back so he could look at me. His face was weathered and brown, but his eyes saw more than the lines of pain and exhaustion around my mouth. He saw more than my huge belly that sheltered Kai’s daughter from the world.
He saw more than I wanted him to see.
So I let him hold me—the man I had come to consider a father. I clung to him, hoping it was enough to see me through the moment.
Chapter 3
“What do you do when you’re not here—with me?”
“I fish,” Kai answers.
“All the time?”
“Pretty much.”
“I never understood how you could be so patient. You tried to teach me, once.” I remembered that day clearly. Time had not diminished its sharpness. It was the day we’d lost a child.
“Fishing is not just about being patient,” he explains. “You have to learn how to listen.”
“Listen? To what? The fish? You really are a fish whisperer.”
“I am, indeed.” He grins arrogantly. “Want me to teach you how to listen?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Close your eyes.”
I do as he says and shut my eyes.
“Take a deep breath. Let it out. Do it again. Good. Now, what do you hear?”
“Nothing.”
“Wrong. Try again.”
After a moment, I speak. “My heart. I hear my heartbeat.” I open my eyes and stare into his. I brush the silky dark hair from his face and kiss his lips.
He smiles. “What does your heart say?”
I smile back. “I think you know.”
•••
Jules held out her hand and showed me the vintage engagement ring. Her smile was brighter than the diamond in the center of the band. I hugged her to me, despite my uncomfortable bulk.
“It’s beautiful. Family heirloom?”
She nodded. “His grandmother gave it to him on his last visit.”
“When did it happen?”
“Last night.” She sat down at the kitchen table, and I opened a bottle of wine and poured her a glass. I settled for iced tea. It was the height of summer, and the heat and my body were making me miserable.
“Tell me about it.”
She smiled. It was soft and dreamy. “Sunset, walking through the vineyard.”
“Poetic,” I observed.
“Very. Sweet. Simple. It was perfect.”
It made me think about Kai’s proposal. In a car. Ending in us half clothed and breathing each other’s air.
“What?” Jules asked.
“Nothing.”
“No, tell me.”
“This is about you and your moment. Not me.”
“Thinking about Kai?”
I ran a finger over my own wedding band. “I’m always thinking about Kai,” I said. My mind struggled to hold onto the threads of reality. When I closed my eyes, he came to me in my dreams. I was safe there. Loved. Awake, I was bereft.
She nodded and took a sip of wine.
Chat
came into the kitchen and, without missing a step, jumped into my lap.
“He’s getting bigger, isn’t he?”
“The boy loves his tuna. He’s a lawless rogue.”
Chat
purred and pushed his head against my stomach. The little fish moved. “When is the wedding?”
Jules blew out a breath of air. “Next fall. September.”
“Good. A year should be enough time to get my figure back.”
She laughed, but then sobered. “Will you be my Matron of Honor?”
I blinked. “Matron of—”
“Honor, yeah.”
“Even after—”
“Even after. You’re Sage, and I’m Jules. Will you be my Matron of Honor?” She reached for my hand, grasped it and we sat in silence, my best friend and I.
•••
Chat
perched on my desk and peered at me with slanted green eyes. He cocked his head to one side, lifted a paw, and licked it.
I sighed. “You think I’m ready to do this?”
He
meowed
.
“You’re right. I know you’re right. Why am I scared?”
He swatted his paw at me.
“You’re telling me to stop being a baby?”
I was asking a cat for advice—and thinking about taking it.
Picking up the manuscript, I put it into a padded manila envelope, dashed off a note in an almost unreadable scrawl, and sealed it shut. “I should do this before I lose my nerve. You want to ride shotgun to the post office?”
Chat
stood up as if signaling he was ready, and I hauled him into my arms. He rested his head against my body as I carted him—and the envelope—out to the car. It was a European model, small and compact, easy to navigate on the narrow, uneven cobblestone streets of
Tours.
I parked outside the post office, looked at
Chat
and said, “Stay here.” Then I snorted in laughter. I was unraveling like a spool of yarn.
I wasn’t ready to return home after my trip to the post office. It was nice being out of the farmhouse, in the fresh air and away from the sadness of my loss. I drove around the countryside, passing different chateaux in the area and cursing the fact I couldn’t drink wine. Everything was ripe and green, and with the window rolled down, I breathed in the clean, sweet smell of flowers and trees. I inhaled life.
I didn’t get home until sunset and when I walked into the farmhouse, I saw Celia sitting on my couch, absentmindedly flipping through a magazine. I set
Chat
down and he immediately scuttled from the room.
“Hello,” I greeted. “What are you doing here? Did we have plans that I forgot about?”
“You didn’t answer your house phone.”