Рита Браун - Cat's Eyewitness

Alicia watched Bo for a moment, then turned to the two friends. "My friend Maggie Sheraton will be visiting me next week. I thought I'd give a small dinner party and invite Herb. Maggie lost her husband a few years ago. I think the two of them would get along."

"You mean Margaret Sheraton the actress?" Harry's jaw dropped.

"Yes."

"Didn't she win an Oscar?" Susan rummaged her brain for the film.

"Best Supporting Actress. Um, twelve years ago. She works now and then but, you know, Maggie is in her early sixties. The business ignores actresses who age. It's a sin to grow old in Hollywood. She's still good-looking. A man with Herb's strong character and warmth would appeal to her."

"He's not too fat?" Harry blurted.

"Harry." Susan elbowed her.

"Sorry."

"He is portly. She'll overlook it, but if a spark should fly between them, I bet he gets himself in better shape. He's let himself go."

"Miranda did that after George died," Harry remembered.

"Look at her now. She looks years younger. Lost the weight. Found love—another one of those miracles." Alicia smiled.

"Maybe there's one left over for me," Susan said plaintively.

"Honey, now, everything will be all right. Really. I just know things aren't what you think." Harry hugged Susan. "There's nothing to worry about."

"I hope so." Susan sighed.

Alicia reached for Susan's hand. "Courage. Life calls for courage." She squeezed her hand. "And Harry is right, it will all turn out."

"Think you'll find love again?" Harry couldn't help herself. She shouldn't have asked this directly and not in a public place.

"Yes," Alicia forthrightly replied. "Love may not make the world go around, but it certainly makes the ride worthwhile."

"I never thought of that." Harry folded her arms across her chest.

"If it has anything to do with emotions, you don't think of it. You're worse than any man I've ever met." Susan rolled her eyes.

"Poop to you. If we weren't in the middle of Pet Food Discounters, I'd say worse."

"You two can't live without each other." Alicia stood up straight.

"I could try." Susan giggled.

"Be bored." Harry giggled, too.

"I have two children, Harry. I don't need a third."

"Let's not talk about me." Harry turned back to Alicia. "Are we too country for you now? When you were here as a young person, you hadn't seen the world. You weren't a big movie star."

"Oh, Harry, I'd rather fall in love with someone country than the president of the largest entertainment group in the world. Trust me. I am so glad to be home, home with real people with real lives. Hollywood gave me many opportunities and a great deal of money. I'm grateful for that, but if you're not careful it can erode your sense of reality and, ultimately, your sense of self. It's a debilitating environment."

"I'm so glad." Susan corrected herself. "Not about a debilitating environment but that you could fall in love with a Virginian, a farmer, a banker, a—" She stopped.

Alicia looked from Susan to Harry, back again to Susan. "I know exactly what you're thinking."

"You do?" they asked in unison.

"Will I fall in love with a man or a woman?" Both women's faces reddened, then Susan nodded that Alicia had hit the nail on the head.

"It's none of our business." Harry picked up the mousies.

"Coming from you?" Susan was incredulous.

Alicia laughed. "Better get some mousies for Mrs. Murphy and Pewter. Since you're interested in my life, let me say one thing: anyone who refuses love is a fool. That may not answer your question, but that is a truth I have learned. Do I know? In a way, I do. While I have loved two men in my life, there was always a part of me on guard. I like being totally relaxed with another human being. Just being myself."

"Ah." Susan understood. "But Alicia, aren't all women on guard with men, even the men they've lived with for decades?"

"Susan, I can't believe you're saying that." Harry's eyes opened wider. "On guard?"

"I am. There's a part of me I keep to myself."

"Is that being on guard?" Harry puzzled. "I don't feel on guard with Fair. I can't say I feel on guard with men, anyway."

"Because you're a man in a woman's body, a beautiful body. I don't mean that as an insult. Harry, you've got bigger balls, forgive the phrase, than most of the men I know," Susan said.

"Oh, come on, that's not true. I'm tired of hearing that. Just because I don't ooh and goo and carry on about what a caretaker I am, ooze love and all that bullcrap, doesn't mean I think like a man. I'm logical. Big deal."

"You two have been having this argument since first grade. I'm heading to the checkout. Susan, I believe you can love a man and not be on guard. The reason I was on guard, even though I loved and was loved, was that I wasn't being true to myself. And, Harry, a good man is in love with you. You won't find anyone better. You all spoke directly to me, I'm speaking directly to you. Susan, drop your guard. Harry, seize love."

As Alicia left, Susan's face looked as though she'd been slapped hard. What the unusual woman said had cut deep down to the bone.

"Susan? Susan, are you all right?" Harry, also affected, touched Susan's face, which burned.

"Huh? Yes. Come on, let's get what we need. Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker will shred the truck seat."

Outside in the truck, the three animal friends constantly looked through the windshield for sight of Harry They had little to say to one another since coming down the mountain. The sight of the frozen monk wasn't grotesque, but it was macabre, startling, and it had sobered all three of them.

12

B'ruised air hovered over the friars as they ate in the common room. The meal was so silent, one could hear bread being torn from the freshly baked loaves. Brother Handle ate at a table perpendicular to the others. His scowl, etched on his face, accentuated the general discomfort.

Brother Mark, the youngest, sat with the other younger men— in this case, "younger" being anyone in their forties.

Brother Frank, head full of numbers, counted things. He couldn't help it. He'd count the number of loaves of black bread. He'd count the pencils on Brother Handle's desk, noting those with broken lead, with erasers chewed off. He'd count the number of steps from his cubicle to another cubicle. He'd count the number of long-needle pines from the large arched door of the main building to the chandler's shop. He'd count the bee boxes at the edge of the meadows. Sitting there, he counted heads. One was missing. He made a mental note to check the infirmary.

Once the meal concluded, prayers and song again given, Brother Frank walked nimbly down the long, cold corridor to the infirmary, the flagstones shooting cold upward through his shins. Brother John and Brother Andrew, both physicians, oversaw the infirmary. Cleaner than most hospitals, it contained the basics for emergencies. Both men kept certain drugs in a locked refrigerator and a locked cabinet. Some blood packets and plasma packets were also in the refrigerator. Brother Sidney needed his transfusion but in the event of a life-threatening emergency, blood types other than O, Brother Sidney's, were on hand. Since keeping blood in such a manner was against the laws, the two doctors felt no need to inform the Prior as to regulations. He assumed they knew what they were doing and they did. The laws about private physicians giving transfusions outside of a hospital or regulated clinic just didn't make sense at two thousand feet above sea level in, say, a bad storm. They needed the blood. Brother Frank knew what those drugs were, since he paid the accounts. Other than the two doctors and Brother Handle, it was assumed no one else knew of these powerful painkillers. A stainless-steel table dominated the center of a small operating room, used for routine sufferings such as stitching a wound. Anything more serious was performed at Augusta Medical Center, with one of the brothers, in scrubs, in attendance. Both men kept their licenses current, which meant they attended medical conferences and did whatever was necessary to stand in good stead in their profession.