I took a step back. The cat growled. The woman exchanged glances with the other one behind the desk.
“But, uh, I suppose you could take it now, if you wanted.”
I smiled, a strange sense of victory welling in my middle. “Thanks.” I spun toward the door. Behind me, the woman sighed.
“She’ll be back.”
I pretended I didn’t hear her and marched outside. I opened the passenger door on my car and placed the cat on the seat. She curled up and looked at me. I didn’t have a crate, but the cat didn’t seem like she minded.
“Okay, Kitty. Let’s get you home.”
Buckled in, I glanced at my new friend and hesitated, but she didn’t jump up and start making laps in the car, so it had to be fine. I cranked the car and pulled out of the parking lot.
Yowl.
I cringed. That didn’t take long. She flattened her ears and yowled again. Uh-oh. Suddenly, she leapt up and bounded into the back seat. I glanced in the rearview. She circled around and settled on the seat again.
Maybe she liked the back seat better. I went slowly over the bumpy road, trying not to jar the kitty too much and agitate her further. The cat yowled again, and I tensed. But she quieted and seemed to settle.
We crept through Forest Hill, drove past The Magnolia where I’d had lunch with Ryan and Mira Ann, and eased our way down the highway toward Maryville. This would be fine.
I glanced in the rearview. No cat.
My stomach clenched. Probably in the floorboard.
It’ll be fine. Maybe Ida even had some old cat stuff lying around somewhere. I passed the Maryville train depot and turned onto Ida’s street. Almost there.
Yowl.
Something scrambled up the seat behind me, and I gasped. The cat topped the headrest and balanced herself on the impossibly small space. What in the—?
With another piercing yowl, my new friend used my head to regain her balance to keep her from slipping from the headrest. Soft paws mingled in my hair, and I stiffened. The cat settled, her back half on the headrest, and her front paws dangling on my forehead.
Then she started to purr.
13
Realization
If I didn’t know better, I might think Nancy had taken it upon herself to replace Ida as my grandmotherly voice of reason. She lifted her eyebrow and pointed at the ball of fluff purring contently on one of the chairs in Ida’s breakfast nook.
“I thought you wanted a dog.”
I pushed the button to preheat the oven. Thanks to the tree, our Wednesday bread-baking session had moved to Friday. “Dogs have to be walked. Cats don’t.”
Chainsaws buzzed outside, filling the kitchen with a low rumble we had to speak over and the permeating scent of sawdust. How long could cutting one tree take? But then, people had jobs, and they came as they could to cut off and haul away chunks. Since they did the work for free, I couldn’t complain.
“Hmm.” Nancy pulled a kitchen towel off the first of the two loaves that had been left since this morning to rise. “Ida had a cat once. Used to be your father’s.”
“Yep.”
“She told you about old Scruffy?” Nancy leaned her elbows on the counter and regarded me with a knowing gaze. Ida had used the same one. Did the expression come standard on all older women?
“In one of her letters.” I poked at the dough.
“Don’t do that.” Nancy swatted at me. “So, because your dad once had a cat, you got a cat instead of a guard dog?”
The coffee pot gurgled. She pulled down a ceramic coffee mug and helped herself to a cup. The rich aroma filled the air and helped mask a little of the sawdust.
The sentiment sounded stupid spoken out loud. I shrugged and moved away from her dough. “Looks that way.”
“Good choice.” Nancy winked. “Fluffy there will make good company, and you won’t have to take him out at all hours of the night.” She took a sip from her coffee. “He have a name?”
My shoulders relaxed, though I didn’t know why I cared if Nancy approved. “She. Girl cat. And no, I haven’t named her. I keep calling her Kitty.”
The oven beeped, and Nancy stuck the fresh loaves inside. She wiped her hands on her floral-print apron. “It’s good you aren’t alone.” She leveled kind eyes on me.
The intensity of her gaze made me uncomfortable, and I looked away. “She’s a good cat. And I can take her with me when I go. Cats are easier to keep in an apartment.” Assuming I found a decent one. But I didn’t have to think about that now.
Nancy caught my gaze. “That’s not what I meant. You aren’t alone, Casey. Even without the cat.”
I brushed the comment aside. “For now, anyway. But I can’t stay here forever.” Besides, I could be surrounded by people and still be alone.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Nancy wiped the countertop. “If you go back to Atlanta, you still won’t be alone. God is always with you.” She lifted her eyebrows. “Even if you don’t acknowledge Him.”
I should have expected a sermon from the preacher man’s mother. I simply nodded to avoid a conversation I didn’t want to have. I believed in God. I knew He was real. I’d even given my heart to Him as a little girl afraid of the world and unwanted by her parents. But experience had taught me that just because God was out there, and had saved me from eternal torment, didn’t mean He would save me from pain.
I had a problem with a God who could do things yet chose not to. My parents could have loved me. Any of them. They all chose not to. Kind of hard to want to be with someone like that.
Nancy rubbed my shoulder. “I hope you find what’s missing.”
Sudden tears burned my eyes, and I forced myself to swallow them down. I didn’t like insightful people. Gave them too much power over me. I laughed her off. “Thanks. As soon as your son gives me all of Ida’s letters, I’ll have all those missing pieces.”
Nancy’s rueful smile plucked a raw nerve. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Great. Another old woman who spoke in riddles.
My phone vibrated, saving me from an awkward answer. I flipped it open without even looking at the number. Probably Ryan with more information about the church men and their plans for the tree in the dining room. “Hello?”
“It’s great to hear your voice again.”
My breath seized. “Derick?”
Worry clouded Nancy’s eyes.
“Hey, babe. I’ve missed you.” Smooth voice, as always. The kind that had slithered over my senses and made me eager to please him. That Italian finesse didn’t help either.
Nancy’s eyebrows drew together, adding deeper wrinkles to her forehead.
Pulse skittering, I scooted out of the kitchen. “What do you want?” Thankfully, my voice came out as cold and distant as I’d intended.
“Ouch.” He sounded almost wounded, but he deserved a lot worse than any bite I could put into my words. “Is that any way to speak to the man you love?”
“Is sleeping with someone else any way to treat the woman you love?” I gripped the phone and paced the living room. Why was I even talking to this guy? I’d sworn I’d never speak to him again. Right after he blamed me for him cheating. Claiming that my defying him and taking my long overdue vacation days to visit Ida had pushed him into Vicky’s arms.