Ширли Мерфи - Cat Chase The Moon

When the four cats could hear Ulrich snoring, Courtney began to leap at the door that led downstairs, wrapping her paws around the knob and swinging her hind legs. No matter how she swung, it was impossible to gain enough leverage. Was it locked? She couldn’t turn the bolt above the knob, either. She tried until Ulrich quit snoring. At once she went quiet, dropped softly down and came to the corner of the window. She touched noses through the glass with her daddy and her tabby mama, with Kit and Pan. Though barely whispering, they could hear one another well enough; but their ears were cocked for any more sound from the bedroom.

“You’re getting out of here,” Joe said through the corner of the window. “Now. No arguments. No matter what dreams they’ve sold you, you’re out of here as soon as we can get you out. We may have to ask Clyde’s help but I don’t like the idea, I don’t want him arrested for break and enter.” He looked hard at Courtney. “No more changing your mind. No more wild visions that could lead to a cage, for the rest of your life!” He glanced at his mate. “If Dulcie hadn’t accidentally locked that window . . .”

“I didn’t,” Dulcie hissed. “Burt did!”

“If I go now,” Courtney said, “if we can get me out, I’ll never know what else is going on here. Those Luthers coming in the back, opening the safe . . . counting all that money, so much money . . . things Ulrich and Fay said on the phone . . . Things I want to know and Max Harper will want to know . . .”

Her great adventure was now only ugly. Her dreams of living as a beautiful princess— a beautiful show-off, she thought, ashamed—were no more. She’d stay until she knew all the story, then she was out of there, away from this trap, free of the Seavers’ control. She needed only one more chance, and this time nothing would stop her. She’d be fast and sly and she would absolutely make her escape.

Outside the glass the four cats looked at each other. “Until we get her out,” Dulcie said, “we take turns watching, upstairs and down. Whoever’s on duty, if something bad happens we’ll get help somehow. But right now,” she said, yawning, “I’m going home for a nap.” She was so angry at Courtney she almost didn’t care—almost.

At home, once she’d had a little snack, she curled up on the couch so as not to bother Wilma. She slept deeply, escaping her anger and frustration—slept far longer than she meant to and woke awash with guilt for her anger at Courtney. She leaped up and raced straight out of the house, out her cat door, longing, now, only for her dear, headstrong youngster.

When Joe and Dulcie and Kit left Courtney locked in the apartment, Pan remained outside the window. He would stay until the store opened in the morning, then Kit would come back to switch places. That would give his lady some rest at home snuggled by the fire with her old couple; Pan knew they missed one another, these three who were so close—he knew the Greenlaws missed him, too, that they were family. But the relationship Lucinda and Pedric and Kit had wasn’t the same, Kit had been the wonder of their lives long before Pan came to them, long before Pan and the lovely tortoiseshell became a pair.

Kit was to the Greenlaws a magical creature; she had found them and they had found her as if by some mystical charm, found one another out on the empty green hills high above the village.

Kit had been watching the old couple for some days, hiding from them. She had never in her life been around humans. She was amazed at the tales that Pedric told Lucinda, many of the same stories she’d learned as a kitten tagging along with the wild clowder. Those speaking cats had let the starving kitten follow, but they were never fond of her. When they had set out to travel north along the green and empty hills, she had wanted to break away from them but she didn’t know if she could live on her own yet, and she kept following.

But then, above Molena Point, slipping off by herself among the boulders, she had heard Pedric talking. Startled by human voices, she had crept up to listen. She had found the tall, elderly couple sitting among the great rocks having a picnic. She had padded closer, had sat listening to Pedric’s stories for a long time. Then, boldly, she had stepped through the tall grass and onto their picnic blanket. Just like that, the little cat was suddenly with them. Pedric and Lucinda almost felt she had appeared out of nowhere, and it was love at first sight. From the first moment they saw her, Pedric, with his Scots-Irish background, knew that shaggy little kitten had been listening, that she could understand them, that she was different, and had the true Celtic spirit. Her delight in finding them and in listening to his stories had made her golden eyes gleam with joy.

And, Pan thought now, watching through the window as Courtney curled up on a blanket on the Seavers’ couch, Courtney has magic, too. But it is a different magic. Like my father had—like Misto still has now, living a mysterious new life in another dimension. I know Misto remembers his past lives and everyone he loved—and Courtney remembers her past lives just as he did, she can tell them just as if she sees them again, and that is the greatest wonder of all.

Sitting close to the corner of the window trying to keep warm, intending to watch Courtney the rest of the night but tired and hungry and cold, the orange tomcat, despite all attempts at vigilance, was soon sound asleep. He didn’t hear the apartment phone ring. He didn’t see Courtney wake suddenly and sit up, listening.

21

Joe Grey arrived home to a dark house. From the roof, slipping in through a window of his tall glass tower, he waded through his pillows and nudged open his cat door to the inner rafters of the master bedroom. He could hear from just below the comforting rhythm of Clyde’s snoring, and that eased his nerves. It had seemed a bitter night, Courtney being prodded to do tricks that she refused to do, his young calico so distressed that Joe could see tears in her amber eyes; and on his way home it had started to rain, hard little drops piercing his coat and driving into his ears—the whole night seemed to have turned sour. Even the Luther apartment across the street looked grim, dark, and silent. The wet street below was deserted, both Thelma’s and Varney’s cars gone. All the house windows were black except for one tiny, blurred light behind Mindy’s curtain; a sheltered glow as if, left alone, she didn’t want to be noticed from outside. Looked like she had turned on a flashlight beneath her quilt and was reading, pushing away her loneliness.

How long had they left the house empty, Mindy vulnerable to whoever might want to break in, no one to watch over her? He wondered if they had even locked the front door? Did either one of them care what happened to the child? And where the hell were they at this hour?

Into some kind of trouble, you could bet. At least Varney would be. Likely out robbing some poor citizen or knocking around a pair of lovers in a parked car, taking their petty cash and cell phones.

It wouldn’t surprise him if all the scattered robberies that had occurred on the outskirts of the village over the last months were Varney’s doing, or Nevin’s. Maybe even DeWayne, maybe he’d been in town longer than anyone knew. If so, he’d been slick, to evade Harper and his men.

Joe was used to Varney being gone all hours of the night. As for Thelma, she was no better, likely up to the same thefts as the Luther brothers—scattered crimes at the edges of the village that had gone on for months: assaults totally different from the slick and professional daytime thefts right in town: fast, well-planned heists and the thief gone so quickly that no one but the victim knew anything had happened—then suddenly, those snatch-and-grabs had ceased altogether, and that was puzzling.