The Summer of No Regrets (14 page)

I skirted the main trail and took the deer path past the wel. I had to get to Felix and Kalimar before I did anything else. The junk food was sitting like a rock in my stomach. I wanted to be mad at Luke because it would stop me from being as sad as I was. I had felt so close to him and then he had shut down. Had I been stupid to share as much as I had? Like maybe I’d been stupid to let him touch as much of me as he had?

What’s that Greek myth where the woman’s immortal lover vanishes at sunrise? Cupid and Psyche?

I stepped over a tangle of roots from a downed cedar. Luke’s mom had shaken my hand so icily. Did she think I was a slut? It was obvious Luke and I had spent the night together. Maybe she didn’t want her son with “that” kind of girl. The thought almost made me laugh—that anybody could take me for worldly and experienced.

A wet maple branch thwacked my cheek, and I rubbed my face on the sleeve of Luke’s hoodie. Maybe he’d come and find me once his mom wasn’t watching him. Was she taking her anger out on him now? He’d said he could “handle himself,” and I’m sure he’d be insulted if I thought differently. It wasn’t like his tiny mother could overpower all that muscle. But there are other ways someone can make your life hel.

He seemed to feel responsible for taking care of her, hanging her pictures and going wherever she wanted to go at a moment’s notice because she “wanted some sun.” Didn’t she have any friends?

Was Luke’s grandmother who died his mother’s mom? Had she gotten weird after her mom died like Dad had after Nonni died? Luke and I might have a lot in common, if only he’d talk about it.

I came to a spot where the afternoon sun hit the trunks of the Doug firs. Once a buck had come into this clearing while I was here “listening.” I’d spent half an hour moving toward him, toe-heel, toe-heel, until he was an arm’s length from me. I’d remained motionless another fifteen minutes, and he’d stayed near me, nibbling berries, as if I was a doe. Finaly, I had reached out and put my hand on his warm neck. For a brief, suspended moment the energy coursing through him had flowed up my arm and into my chest. Then he’d turned with a swift motion and leaped away, flashing into the trees. I hadn’t seen him again.

Would it be that way with Luke?

I came around the back of Adam and was about to cross under the tree house when two little boys ran by whapping each other with light sabers. Three women came behind them across the bridge, chatting and sipping tea. I walked past them and saw that The Center was swarming. Parents stroled along the paths while their children jumped, spun, and tumbled between the trees. How could this be? It was only 4:00. How would I get to the kittens’ den? I’d have to wait until they all went inside.

Whenever that was. I dodged the light sabers and was attempting a sprint to our apartment when the Fire-Breathing Shaman stepped onto the front porch.

“Brigitta, in here, right now.” He swept me into his office and closed the door.

“Welcome home,” I said hopefuly. “You’re earlier than I thought.”

“Clearly,” he said without smiling, “you haven’t been paying attention. Your mother and I have been here since noon. Nothing had been cleaned, swept, or prepped in our absence. We had to scramble through the tasks we thought we’d delegated, so that we could greet our guests when they began arriving at two.”

“Two? I thought this didn’t start until seven.”

“Two? I thought this didn’t start until seven.”

“No,” snarled Dad. “It started at two. Your mother caled Natalie’s at twelve fifteen and asked that you come home. That was four hours ago.”

Natalie? Sweet Natalie had covered for me again!

“What happened to Malory?”

“I have no idea what happened to Malory.” Dad pitched a stack of flyers into the recycle bin. “I just know we have forty-two people here that need taking care of, and you’re off watching TV.”

The phone rang. He picked it up, and I took my opportunity to get out of there.

Mom was on the porch passing out muffins to twelve or thirteen grubby-fingered kids.

I heard snatches of conversation: “Come to believe Benji is an avatar.”

“And his teacher will not understand…”

“She had a dream about it three months before it happened…”

“I’m so tired all the time…”

I threaded my way through them before I could be nabbed by Mom. If I could slip into the trees from the hidden side of the tree house, I might be able to get to the kittens without attracting attention.

Where was Malory? Had she checked on the kittens at all since last night? Would they still be there?

I’d reached the bridge before I realized I was being folowed.

A boy and a girl about seven and nine came into the clearing.

“Who are you?” said the girl.

Usualy I like kids, but I was not in the mood for this. “I live here,” I said. “Who are you? Hansel and Gretel?”

“I’m Skylar,” said the girl. “I can read auras. You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

The girl sighed irritably. “I’m clairvoyant, not telepathic,” she The girl sighed irritably. “I’m clairvoyant, not telepathic,” she said. “Jeremy, what’s her name?”

Jeremy squinted. “I think it’s Beth or Rita or something. I can’t concentrate here.”

“Forget it,” said Skylar. “Come on!” She took off running.

Right in the direction of the kittens.

Jeremy folowed her, climbing over logs and under branches like he knew the route already. I went after them. Surely they wouldn’t think to look in a dead tree.

“Hey!”

I arrived in time to see Skylar holding Kalimar aloft. “Sweet!” said Jeremy. He dragged Felix out into the open.

“Stop!” I said. “Put them down. They’re wild animals!” Skylar was cooing and rocking Kalimar like a baby. Felix struggled and scratched at Jeremy, who dropped him.

“Ow!” Jeremy looked at the blood on his arm with surprise as Felix scampered away.

I reached for Kalimar and sucked in my breath. Diarrhea covered her back legs and tail.

“Gross!” said Skylar, thrusting the kitten at me. Kalimar didn’t resist, just lay there.

Felix reappeared from behind the cougar tree, looking wobbly on his legs. I felt sick. “You guys get back to The Center and wash your hands,” I said. “We need to leave these animals alone.”

I rubbed Kalimar between her ears. She didn’t even purr.

“
You’re
not leaving them alone,” said Jeremy.

“Let’s go!” Skylar puled on Jeremy’s shirt. “I want to show Brendan and Tom!”

“You guys—no.”

But they were already scrambling toward The Center.

I had no time. I stuffed Kalimar in the pocket of Luke’s hoodie and scooped up Felix. Kalimar’s head drooped out, and I pushed it back in gently. Where would I take them? The tree I pushed it back in gently. Where would I take them? The tree house? Another snag?

It was already too late. Skylar and Jeremy reappeared with a crowd behind them, looking like they were about to cross the Red Sea.

“There they are!” Jeremy sang out. “Brigitta’s got the other one in her pocket!”

Utter chaos broke out at that moment with two dozen psychicaly gifted moppets all reaching out to touch and hold the kittens, their parents caling out nondirective instructions, my parents shocked and amazed. All this was folowed by the kittens being cleaned with a damp cloth by Mom and going into a towel-lined box in a warm corner of the dining hal, and then an impromptu forty-person discussion of why I’d been so tired the past week, the legality or ilegality of keeping wild animals, the ethics of disrupting ecosystems, and whether a cougar can roar (it can’t).

I knelt by the cardboard box, feeling the kittens’ breath while the adults gathered in their Indigo Child circle. Felix draped himself limply across Kalimar. His eyes were closed. I felt the awfulness of what I’d done, leaving them like that. I should have known Malory couldn’t understand anything wild. When we were little and used to listen in the woods, Malory had usualy falen asleep. She might think the kittens were cute and cuddly, but she couldn’t “hear” them. She’d have given them their cat food, checked on them once or twice, and then marched off with her psychology god—the one named after a dictionary. Malory wouldn’t feel Onawa’s presence from the spirit world. She lived in the world of neurons. Malory loved provable facts. Malory drew logical conclusions. Malory had gotten Onawa a state execution.

Jeremy appeared beside me, surprisingly quiet, and put his hand on Felix’s head. “We were too rough with them,” he whispered. “This one told me.”

Dad looked haggard and Mom drawn. I wished they’d shoo Dad looked haggard and Mom drawn. I wished they’d shoo all those people down the stairs, but the energy of the Indigo Experience seemed to have taken everyone over. I was now the center of an Indigo family discussion, even though I’d never met any of these people. And the prevailing wind was that the kittens had to go—to someone more expert, capable, and trustworthy than me.

Kalimar’s ear flicked, and she yawned a wide, pink yawn.

Beside me, Jeremy dangled his hand in the cardboard box, but neither kitten batted it. I wanted to gather them up and run back to their den with them. I could make them better. I’d just start over with the Pedialyte. A little more research and I’d know what to do.

But would I? When Ophelia got sick I took her to the vet.

There were people trained to care for wild animals. Even Luke had argued for that. Now that my own stupidity had put the kittens in jeopardy, it seemed sily to think Buck Harper was a danger. Maybe they should go to a wildlife rehab center. What were rehab centers for? The kittens hadn’t menaced or attacked anyone. A rehab center could get them well and then release them. They could grow up in the wild the way they were supposed to.

I felt tears threatening. No way would I cry in front of strangers. Jeremy put his hand on my arm. “They want to stay here,” he said.

“It’s not practical,” I snapped, wondering why I was arguing

“It’s not practical,” I snapped, wondering why I was arguing with a seven-year-old.

And then, from some deep-space wormhole, Malory-of-the-superior-intelect swept in to have her usual final word.

“Why not?” she said. “Why not keep them here?” I stopped arguing. Had aliens taken my sister and sent this one in her place?

Malory set a bag of groceries on the counter. “Those cougars were born on this land. They belong here. If you want to talk about ecosystems, cougars have been roaming this area more milennia than you and I. Why shouldn’t they stay and why shouldn’t Brigitta feed them? She found them. She encountered their mother.”

Mom stared at her. She didn’t ask, “Where have you been all day?” because I suppose the answer was obvious.

Somehow the manifestation of Malory woke Dad up, and he handed the Indigoes and their parents over to their retreat leader for their evening session. Jeremy unfolded himself from the floor, nodded at me slowly, and went with them.

Mom began boiling baby bottles I’d brought in from the tree house. Dad paced the tile floor. “A refuge is the best place for them. They’re set up for animals like this.”

“We could get set up ourselves.” Malory knelt by the cardboard box. “Don’t most refuges start with some animal lover nursing squirrels back to health on her patio? It’s probably just some license fee you have to pay.”

Mom handed me two of the bottles, and I snapped off a Pedialyte cap and began filing them. Felix opened his cobalt eyes. Did I even dare to hope? I lifted Felix carefuly out of the box.

Dad rubbed his temples. “I don’t know that it’s legal.” Malory took six boxes of rice milk out of the grocery bag and lined them up on the shelf. “People keep exotic pets,” she said.

“That’s legal with the proper permits. Webster had a student

“That’s legal with the proper permits. Webster had a student who raises ocelots.”

Mom poured the boiled water into a jar for watering the plants later. “Clyde’s ex-wife has a bobcat. We could get in touch with her and find out how it’s done.”

Without much energy, Felix licked at the nipple of the baby bottle. I squirted some Pedialyte into his mouth, and he began to suck. He did a turned-down rendition of his usual purr. Dad paused and gazed at him, seemingly lost in thought. He fingered the medicine bag around his neck. A tiny flame of possibility sparked in my chest.

Dad shook his head. “There are retreatants to be concerned about. It’s not safe to have big cats here. No.” He dropped the bag so that it bumped against his shirt on its cord. “We need to take them to an established facility.” He gave a short laugh, as if he couldn’t believe he’d considered keeping the cougars.

Felix rubbed his head under my fingers, wanting a good scratch. Dad dragged the phonebook across the counter.

“Wait!” I said. “Onawa!”

“What?” Dad stopped midpage.

“Onawa. Their mother. You did a ritual and caled her.” He looked at me sharply.

“You did,” I said breathlessly. “You caled her, and this was the answer you got. She sent you her children. She gave them to us to take care of.”

Mom sat down carefuly in the chair next to where Dad was standing. She put his hand on her shoulder and stroked his fingers. Malory took the other bottle and began quietly nursing Kalimar. She didn’t say a word about the stupidity of spirit guides.

Dad ran his other hand absently through Mom’s hair. “You say Wanda Redd keeps a bobcat?”

“It’s just the logical response,” said Malory, nuzzling Kalimar.

“They have to stay here.”

“Or not.” When had Webster come in? He crossed the room

“Or not.” When had Webster come in? He crossed the room and peered down at Felix and Kalimar in our laps. “These animals are sick, Maly. Look at them. I’m not an animal specialist, but they need to be in the hands of someone who is.” Malory raised her eyes to him more slowly than I’d have expected. “This is Brigitta’s decision,” she said.

“I have a former student,” continued Webster as if Malory hadn’t spoken. “Her name is Dr. Helene Jackson. Dr. Jackson is a behavioral veterinarian who specializes in wildlife. This”—he wrote on a piece of paper—“is her number.”

Malory narrowed her eyes ever so slightly.

Webster went on. “I believe she is employed with a wild animal rescue outside of Seattle. I’d recommend strongly that you call her.” He gave the paper to Dad, who nodded curtly, and then turned to Malory. “Alas, my love,” he said in that way that made me want to kick him hard, “I must depart.” He bent to kiss Malory, but she twitched away so that he missed. He puled his Greek fisherman’s hat out of his pocket, put it on his head, and walked out the kitchen door.

We brought the kittens up into the apartment. We were awake all night—Dad pacing the floor with his drum, Mom scurrying up and down the stairs to take care of Indigoes, while Malory and I fed and watched the kittens. No one talked much about how we were going to raise two cougars to adulthood. It was as if that topic was off-limits.

The diarrhea didn’t come back, but the kittens didn’t pee, either, which seemed wrong. Malory brought out a thick biology textbook to see if it had anything useful in it. She was quiet, running her hand over Felix’s back and tail while she flipped the pages. Felix’s motor revved up louder than it had been, as if he forgave her for not understanding him.

Mom went to bed around 7:30 Friday morning, but Dad stayed up and did the breakfast shift by himself, not talking much when he returned to the apartment. I curled in a beanbag chair with Kalimar against my bely. Malory brought out her laptop and Googled more animal care instructions.

Officer Mark showed up at 11:30, shook Dad’s hand, and took away Felix and Kalimar. Mack wasn’t with him this time.

“They’ll be in good hands,” said Officer Mark. He put the cougars into a carry cage and walked out the door.

Why couldn’t I move? Why didn’t I run after him and wrestle the cage out of his hands? Instead I stood inside by the tomatoes, leaning against a support post while he loaded them into his truck.

Inside my pocket I found the gold scrap Kalimar had torn while she was still safe in her den. It made me think of Nonni’s fabric scraps—of gathering them up from her feet that day at the nursing home, of taking them back to Cherrywood. I had brought them into the bunk room where I always slept. Under the top bunk Opa had made a secret panel where we used to hide things. I’d felt inside. The treasure was still there: two arrowheads and a rusty Boy Scout knife (Dad’s), four seashels (Malory’s, from Nonni), a fluffy pink quil pen (mine). I had lined the hidden compartment with the scraps, adding layer after layer

—Malory’s pink prom satin, my Winnie the Pooh plush, purple from a middle school shirt. Only when my hands were empty had I put the panel back in place.

As soon as Officer Mark drove away, Malory rounded on Dad. “We could have done it!” she said. “We could have raised them. Why did you call that stupid number? Why do you always take the easy way out?”

Dad sat down heavily at the kitchen table. His shirt had a spot of pancake batter on it, and his hair was coming out of its hair tie. “Malaboo, I didn’t call any number.”

“Wel, then who did?”

Dad looked at Malory for a long time and didn’t answer.