Escape Claws. Linda Reilly
if reading her mind. She lifted Dolce gently and set him down on the faded Oriental rug. With the help of the cane she’d hooked over the arm of her chair, she pushed to her feet. “Why don’t we call it a night? We can chat more in the morning.” Her voice sounded hoarse with fatigue.
“Should I…sleep in my old room?” Lara asked.
“Of course. There are fresh sheets in the linen closet upstairs. If you don’t mind, I’ll let you put them on yourself.”
Lara smiled. “Not a problem.”
After ensuring that her aunt had made it safely to her room, Lara fetched her suitcase from her rental car.
Right after they’d eaten dinner Lara had scooped the litter boxes, so they should be all set for the night. After checking to be sure all the lights were off, except for a night light turned on in every room, she made certain the cats had food and fresh water and that the doors were securely locked. Tomorrow she would assess what else needed to be done, and try to come up with a game plan.
“If you leave your bedroom door open,” Aunt Fran said, “you’ll no doubt have some furry friends join you in the night.”
Lara grinned. “If they’re feline friends, they’re more than welcome.” It’d been years since she’d slept with a cat snuggled beside her. Her mother never let her have a cat, and her landlady refused to allow an animal in the studio apartment Lara leased from her. Gabriela, immaculate to a fault, imagined cat hairs floating magically through the air vents and into the bakery, landing on all of her baked goods.
“Maybe Blue will reappear, if that was Blue,” Lara said pensively. “More likely it was one of her descendants.”
Aunt Fran’s brow furrowed. “Lara, I don’t have a Ragdoll cat. Are you sure that wasn’t Bootsie? She’s mostly gray fluff, but has blackish ears.”
Lara was already shaking her head. She didn’t want to argue, but she was sure. Well, almost sure.
“You could be right, Aunt Fran. Don’t worry about it.” She leaned over and placed a kiss on her aunt’s cheek. “I’m glad I came up here today. Thanks for letting me stay.”
The room she used to sleep in had barely changed at all. The wallpaper, emblazoned with clusters of lilacs, was in good shape except for a few tiny spots where it had peeled. Lara wondered if she could repair those sections with small dots of glue. The fuzzy rug next to the single bed looked as thick and cozy as ever. The maple bed, which had a bookshelf-style headboard, was covered in the same ivory chenille spread she remembered.
In the morning, she’d throw open the windows and give the room a good airing out. For tonight, she’d settle for a hot shower, after which she planned to slip under the covers and sleep like the dead.
She located a set of sheets in the linen closet and quickly made up her bed. Then she pulled off her funky parrot earrings and dropped them onto the maple dresser. After shedding her jeans and paisley knit pullover, she took the world’s fastest shower, then wrapped herself in a terry cloth bath towel and scooted back to her room. She giggled when she saw Izzy and Pickles, the two calico sibs, curled around each other atop the bedspread. Izzy glanced up at her as if to say, “What took you so long?” She unzipped her suitcase and dug out her favorite sleep tee, the one imprinted with a repro of Van Gogh’s Starry Night over the Rhone.
The cats stirred when she slipped under the covers. They rearranged themselves, one against her leg and one pressed to her shoulder, and revved up their engines. Their purring sound was soothing, like the calm whisper of a surf. Almost immediately Lara drifted off.
It seemed that only minutes later Lara jerked upright. Something outside had awakened her—a searing cry, followed by the sound of raised voices. Careful not to dislodge a cat, she swiveled her legs off the bed and padded to the window. She lifted one of the blinds and peeked into the yard. The old shed was still there, hunkered at the rear of the property. In the vacant field below the hill, she thought she spied the quick flash of a light. But after an instant it disappeared, and then, only darkness.
“I’m definitely going crazy,” Lara mumbled to the cats. They graciously allowed her back into the bed, and after that she slept.
A short time later, a second noise awakened her. A muffled cry that seemed to come from the far edge of the meadow.
Lara leaped out from under the covers and dashed to the window. A lone figure was standing near the shed, her outline unmistakable.
Aunt Fran.
Lara gulped back a lump of surprise. Should she run out and see if something was wrong? Or would that make it look as if she’d been spying?
She hesitated, then watched her aunt move slowly along the rear walkway, aided by her four-pronged cane. Aunt Fran didn’t appear to be in any distress. She was making her way back toward the house without any difficulty, as if it were a ritual she performed every night.
With a sigh of relief, Lara slid back under the covers. After a few minutes, more sounds floated into earshot. This time they were faint thumping noises, coming from her aunt’s room. Almost as if Aunt Fran were shifting things around.
Those were the last sounds Lara heard. She didn’t awaken until the first trickle of daylight was squeezing through the blinds.
* * * *
A paw batting at her nose awakened Lara. She squinted at the clock—only six fifteen. Half-asleep, she grinned at the perpetrator—Izzy. The calico cat balanced on her chest while Pickles chewed on a strand of her tangled hair.
Although she was tempted to sleep half the morning, Lara hauled herself out of bed. The room felt chilly. She gave her arms a brisk rub. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she threw on her jeans, topping them with the multicolored cowl-neck sweater she’d scored for a fiver on eBay.
Lara headed downstairs and immediately turned up the thermostat. She felt sure her aunt wouldn’t mind, especially since the cats needed to stay warm.
In the kitchen, furry felines danced around her legs in a parade of tails that made her grin. Twinkles, the orange-striped tiger, reached up with one adorable paw as if to say, “Feed me first!”
“I know, I know, you’re all starving.” Lara gently peeled Izzy off her thigh, then pulled cat food cans and kibble out of the cupboard. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty for everyone.”
She made quick work of popping open cans and pouring dry food. Callie and Luna approached the bowls with hesitation, but eventually hunger won out. They began scarfing down wet kitten food as if they hadn’t eaten in a week. Only Ballou, the feral cat who hadn’t yet made an appearance, was missing. Lara hoped he might join the others if she made herself scarce.
After scooping the litter boxes and wrapping up the trash, Lara headed outside through the kitchen door. The sun sat slightly above the horizon, blinking with the promise of a bright day. The air was crisp with the intoxicating scent of autumn—wet leaves, smoke, and apples. She sucked in deep, cleansing breaths, expelling the lingering smells from the house.
Lara ambled around the backyard, her feet kicking up scads of leaves from her aunt’s shedding maple. She’d missed this place. Until now, she hadn’t realized how much.
The old shed, once white with green trim like the house, was in sore need of a paint job. Propped against the front of the shed were two bulging burlap sacks. Were those the tulip bulbs Aunt Fran had mentioned? On the side facing the vacant lot, a steel tool rack had been bolted to the shed wall. A row of garden tools hung from its hooks.
She grinned when her gaze landed on her favorite spot. At the edge of the yard, about ten feet from the crest of the hill, sat a huge stone. About six feet tall, it was roughly shaped like a curved hand. Lara used to nestle inside that curve with her pad and pencils and sketch to her heart’s content.
Feeling like a kid, she dropped down to the grass and pressed her back against the rock. It cupped her with its hard edges, not quite fitting the way it used to. The ground