Heaven Sent (11 page)

“
Miss Prophet.”

It sounded like the voice of doom, so
dark and deep it was. Callie turned slowly, fearing what he might
say next. He didn’t look as if he’d taken a sudden liking to her,
that was certain. In fact, he looked as if he totally disapproved
of her. “Yes, Mr. Lockhart?” She wouldn’t call him sir, no matter
what.

“
Won’t you please come with
us, Miss Prophet? Becky assures me that, while this cat of yours is
now her friend, he’s more comfortable when you’re in the
vicinity.”

After shooting a glance at Becky, who
was smiling up a storm and looked as if she were happy as a clam,
Callie decided she was glad Aubrey had called her back. “I’d be
happy to,” she said. It almost wasn’t a lie.

They discovered Monster in the drawing
room, under a chair. Any other cat might have been said to be
cowering. Monster, however, didn’t look frightened. If one were to
ascribe an emotion to his overall attitude, Callie feared it might
be annoyance. Anger, perhaps. Disgust, too, maybe, a little
bit.

“
Good God.” Aubrey, who had
preceded the ladies into the room, stopped still when he’d barely
cleared the doorway.

That’s when Callie spotted
Monster.

“
H-lo, Monster!” Becky said
cheerily, although she didn’t leave her father’s side.

Monster didn’t respond. He huddled
under a straight-backed chair, his fur bristling, and his
greenish-yellow eyes gleaming. Callie guessed that, while it might
have been unkind of Aubrey to have said it aloud, he might be
forgiven for equating Monster with a fiend. Those eyes alone were
enough to cause alarm in a sensitive breast. Callie was so
accustomed to Monster, she didn’t give a thought to the cat’s
glittering greenish-yellow eyes. Well, except at night, when she
came upon him unexpectedly. Then, even Callie’s innards might
execute a leap or two of apprehension.

She wasn’t sure what she should say
under these circumstances, although she thought she ought to say
something—anything—to diffuse the tension. “Urn, I do believe he’s
relaxing after a trying morning, Mr. Lockhart. I think you
frightened him.”

“
I
frightened
him
?”

Callie wasn’t sure, but she thought
he’d sounded sarcastic on purpose. She tried to get mad at him for
it, but her honest nature wouldn’t let her.

“
Watch this,
Papa.”

Becky, who had been standing between
the two adults, threw something small, white, and round at the
chair.

Aubrey said, “What the . . .
?”

But Monster, who knew a good game when
he saw it, shot out from under the chair like an arrow from a bow,
leaped on the white thing, which, Callie now discerned, was a
crumpled piece of paper, turned a somersault, and started batting
the paper ball in the air. He kept it aloft for several bats before
the paper dropped to the Oriental carpet and rolled a foot or so.
He leaped upon it as if it were a mouse, threw it up into the air,
swiped at it with a furry black paw, connecting with a skill that
would have done many a baseball player proud, and bounded after it
as it flew across the room.

Becky laughed merrily. “See? He loves
to play. But he’s so big and black that you don’t expect him to, so
it’s extra funny when he does.”

Callie couldn’t have said it better
herself. She nodded, intuitively believing that Aubrey would rather
not hear from her at the moment.

“
Good God. I’d never have
guessed.” Aubrey sounded awed. “I didn’t even realize the thing was
a cat until you told me.”

“
He’s a sweet cat,” Becky
said. “Look, Papa.” She tripped over to Monster, grabbed the
crumpled paper from between his paws, and threw it across the room.
The cat charged after it and pounced again, making a tremendous
thudding noise. Monster wasn’t exactly a lightweight.

Callie noticed that Aubrey’s head was
shaking back and forth, not in denial, but in amazement, as if he
were witnessing something strange and incredible. She guessed it
wouldn’t hurt to say something now.

“
He’s a very nice cat, Mr.
Lockhart, although I’m sure he must have given you a start this
morning. As you didn’t know about him and all.”

“
A start?”

She didn’t like the way he turned to
peer at her. His eyes had gone narrow, and his expression was
something like a grimace, but it was mixed up with incredulity,
wonder, disapproval, and disbelief. “Um,” she said, “Yes. I’m sure
you must have been startled.”

“
Startled doesn’t begin to
describe my feelings upon being attacked by an animal I didn’t know
resided in my home, Miss Prophet.”

Oh, dear
. “Urn, yes, well, he doesn’t usually bite people. Really, he
doesn’t.”

Fortunately, Becky wasn’t listening to
this conversation. She was having too much fun playing with Monster
to bother with grown-ups. Callie thanked her stars for small
favors.

“
I see. He undoubtedly
objected to my stepping on his foot. Or perhaps it was his tail I
trod upon.”

“
You
stepped
on him!” Callie cried. “Well,
then, that explains it. He objects strenuously to being stepped on,
Mr. Lockhart. I mean, you can’t really blame him for that, can
you?”

“
I don’t blame the cat, Miss
Prophet.”

“
Oh.” It pained her, but
Callie said, “I’m very sorry, Mr. Lockhart. I ought to have asked
if it was all right to bring Monster with me.”

“
Indeed.”

“
And . . . well, I should
have told you about him.”

“
Indeed.”

This string of “indeeds” irritated
Callie. She snapped, “Although, anyone with an ounce of sense or
warmth in his heart ought to have understood before now that his
daughter wanted a pet.”

“
Indeed.”

Fiddlesticks, there was another one.
Callie guessed she shouldn’t have spoken up. It was one of her many
failings that she spoke her mind too readily. Feeling defensive
and, worse, wrong, she said, “Becky loves Monster.”

“
Yes. I see that she
does.”

Aubrey left off staring at Callie,
thank God, and returned his gaze to Becky and Monster. Becky was
crowing with laughter, and Monster was performing like a circus
acrobat. For such a large, heavy cat, he was quite
agile.

Callie caught her breath when Becky
threw the paper ball and it landed on a table on the other side of
the room. With the quick reflexes that had recently been admired by
Callie, the cat took a run at the table.

“
No!” Aubrey shouted,
sending Callie’s trepidation skyrocketing.

Aubrey darted like a sprinter across
the room, barely reaching the table before Monster landed on it.
Callie clapped her hands to her cheeks when she realized that
Aubrey had just rescued a magnificent Ming vase from
destruction.

Whirling around with the vase in his
hand, Aubrey spoke in a controlled voice to his daughter. “Perhaps
you ought to take that thing outside and play with it later,
Becky:”

“
I’ll take him up to Miss
Prophet’s room, Papa. He lives there.”

“
I see.” He turned to eye
Callie with distaste. “We’ll discuss the cat later, Miss Prophet. I
believe it’s time for my daughter’s breakfast.”

“
Yes,” Callie said, and
swallowed. “Yes, I believe it is.”

Becky was out of breath when she
scooped Monster off the table and into her arms. “I’m sorry, Papa.
It was my fault about the vase. I didn’t mean to throw the ball on
the table.”

“
It’s all right, Becky.”
Aubrey gave his daughter what looked like a genuine smile. “I’m
glad you introduced me to Monster.” He returned his gaze to Callie,
although his smile didn’t accompany it. “At last.”

Oh, dear. “Yes, well, let’s go take
Monster upstairs and wash our hands, Becky. I’m sure Mrs. Granger
has your breakfast all ready.”

“
All right.” Happy and
undaunted in the face of the strained relations between the adults
in her life, Becky lugged Monster toward the door.

“
We’ll discuss this later,
Miss Prophet,”

“
Yes, you mentioned that
before. Thanks for the warning.” Blast. She shouldn’t have said
that. Callie helped Becky carry the cat upstairs. She felt very low
and achy around the heart as she helped Becky wash her hands well
and accompanied her into the breakfast room.

There, as on most mornings, a tempting
repast was laid out on the sideboard. Callie had her choice of
eggs, bacon, ham, chops, toast, and a variety of jams, jellies,
marmalades, and honeys. Not to mention the oranges and
apples.

If she were to make a judgment based
solely on earthly merits, Callie’s have to admit that it was rather
nice to be living in the Lockhart mansion where there were
wonderful breakfasts to be had simply by walking into the dining
room. And then there were the fully accoutered bathrooms on every
floor, and hot and cold running water. Callie had never lived in
such luxury. She wondered how long it would last.

*****

A cat. The woman had brought a cat
into his home. Without even asking.

If she’d asked, he’d have told her no,
but that was no reason for her outrageous presumption. Aubrey could
scarcely imagine the effrontery it took Miss Prophet to inflict a
pet upon the Lockharts. After all, what if Becky had been allergic
or something? Or him. What if he had been allergic?

And then the damned thing
had bitten him.
Bitten
him! And he’d only barely stepped on its tail. Unless it was
its foot. Aubrey wasn’t sure. It had all happened so fast. If he
hadn’t been glancing at the book in his hand, he’d have seen the .
. . well, the monster on the steps and would have avoided a
collision. As it was . . . Well, it was unconscionable for Miss
Callida Prophet to have brought the animal into his house.
Unthinkable. Her behavior was truly execrable.

Aubrey entered his library in a
towering grump, cursing Callie Prophet and the Fates. “Why did you
leave us, Anne?” he all but wailed, after shutting the library door
so no one could hear him talking to himself. “Why?”

As always, there was no answer.
Neither Anne nor God nor the Fates, if Fates there were, ever
answered his questions. He was, therefore, as bereft and alone as
ever.

Folding up into his desk
chair, he stared at the window giving a view of the lawn. Something
occurred to him, and he said, “Oh. By God,
that’s
what they meant.” He shoved
his chair away from the desk and stood.

After walking to the window,
pulling the curtain aside, and gazing at the lawn, he recalled the
time he’d observed Becky and Miss Prophet playing Robin Hood. He’d
heard them talking about a “monster” later on that same day, and
had assumed they’d been playing at
Frankenstein
.

“
What a way of discovering a
mistake,” he growled.

As he turned away from the window and
went back to his desk, he recalled the stupid cat turning a
somersault as it tried to get at a balled-up piece of paper. He
remembered the idiotic animal whacking the ball as if he were a
crazed baseball player trying for a home run. He remembered Becky
squealing with delight as the deranged feline, with his fluffy
black tail trailing behind him like a cloud of dust, raced after
the paper ball like a lion after an antelope, and pouncing on it as
if it were making a kill.

Aubrey had been laughing to himself
for probably thirty seconds—perhaps even a whole minute—before he
realized what he was doing and stopped, appalled.

What in the name of holy hell did he
have to laugh about? His wife was dead. His daughter was in the
clutches of a mad nanny. A huge black cat stalked at will through
the halls of his home. His life was ruined. It might as well be
over.

There wasn’t a single amusing thing
left for him in this horrible world, and it was a blot on Anne’s
memory to laugh under these appalling circumstances.

Then he remembered the cat juggling
the paper ball like a circus performer and, while he didn’t allow
himself to laugh, he did grin.

Chapter Six

Brisk winds had started to blow, there
was a distinct nip in the air, and the leaves were threatening to
turn color. School was about to start in the little village of
Santa Angelica. It would be Becky’s first school year, and Aubrey’s
heart hurt when he thought about how Anne would have enjoyed
preparing her for the new experience.

But Anne wasn’t here to see their
daughter off to school. And Aubrey hadn’t a clue as to how to
prepare a child to endure the vicissitudes of the schoolroom.
Rearing children, as he’d discovered a long time ago, was not man’s
work. Men generally didn’t know how to go about it, and Aubrey was
no exception to this rule. Oh, how he missed Anne during the days
leading up to their child’s first day of school.

He’d heard Miss Prophet telling Becky
all about the Santa Angelica Public School, which she had attended
as a youngster. The village was small, and its school consisted of
two rooms and boasted two teachers, one an elderly man and the
other a young woman. Miss Prophet said this made it twice as big as
when she’d gone there. Becky had laughed when she’d said
it.