Рита Браун - Cat's Eyewitness

"The questions get bigger as we get older, don't you think?"

"I do."

Harry took a deep breath, the air scouring her lungs. "I'm here because I don't know what I'm doing. I feel dumb and maybe I really am dumb. And Fair asked me to marry him again."

"Ah." Susan smiled.

"That means you think it's a good idea."

"I'm glad he loves you. You're worth loving." She squeezed Harry's hand.

"Susan." Tears filled Harry's eyes, for kindness and praise affected her more deeply than criticism or meanness. She could stand up to that.

"You are, dear heart. You're my best friend and you know you can tell me anything."

"Tell you? Susan, all I've done for the last three months is bitch and moan."

"Oh, you have not. Anyone in your position is bound to be anxious. No money is coming in and you have to be careful. At least the farm is free and clear and so is the equipment."

"There's the dually payment." Harry mentioned the big one-ton Ford truck with the double wheels that she bought at a great price from Art Bushey, Jr., the Ford dealer and a good friend. His sense of humor was as twisted as hers, so of course they adored each other.

"Four hundred something a month."

"Yes. The feed bill, the gas and electric. I mean, I'm okay, but I've got to do something here pretty soon."

"You're still investigating growing grapes, aren't you? Sounds like a good idea." Susan was encouraging.

"I need to bring money in while I study that. I can't afford to get started anytime soon, since the capital outlay is outrageous. Patricia Kluge said she'd sit down with me. Her vineyards are a booming success. Felicia Rogan, who really revived the whole wine industry in Virginia, said she'd talk to me, too. Still, I need to do something, just get some money coming in. Fair said I could work with him as a vet tech. I know the drill but it's not a great idea. I mean, not until I come to a decision, and I've dragged it out far too long. I'm such a chicken." She brightened a moment. "What I understand, know like the back of my hand, is hay. I'm thinking I could become a hay dealer, not just grow it but buy it from the Midwest, Pennsylvania, and Canada, then sell it. As I do that I could keep learning about grape stuff and see if I could add another string to my bow."

"Sounds like a good plan to me."

"Except I need a paycheck now."

"Pug would take you back in the post office." Susan mentioned the federal employee in charge of postal services for the area.

"No."

"Pride goeth before a fall."

"It's not pride. I'm not working without my babies."

"Where are Mrs. Murphy and Pewter?"

"In the truck, steaming up the windows." Harry leaned toward Susan. "Why are you here?"

Susan quietly looked over the Shenandoah Valley. "It's really coming down. Let's hope by the time we drive down Route 250 it's snowing on our side."

"Susan." Harry knew her friend inside and out.

"Ned and I are drifting apart."

Harry's face registered shock. "How? You seem close to me."

"He's distant. He doesn't much want sex anymore. He's all wrapped up in being our newly elected senator to Richmond. He's spending more time in the apartment he just rented there than at home."

"Mmm, the sex part is disturbing."

"Tell me."

"He's got a lot to learn about the job." Harry hoped this would help Susan push upsetting thoughts about Ned aside.

"Brooks graduates from high school this year. Danny loves Cornell. The house will soon be empty. He's starting a whole new life. I feel like my life, or at least my usefulness, is vanishing, ending."

Harry leaned into Tucker as Susan did, too. "All of this is a big change for both of you. He's handling it differently than you, that's all."

"I hope so." Tears now ran down Susan's face. "You know I'm not cut out to be a political wife. I'm no good at it." She wiped away a tear. "Ned is handsome. I've heard all those stories about politicians and pretty interns."

Harry wrapped an arm around Susan's shoulders. "Oh, honey, don't cry."

"I remember when it happened to you."

"Fair and Ned are different kinds of men. I knew, like a little seismic rumble underneath, that Fair thought he was missing something marrying his high-school sweetheart. He"—she paused—"well, he just jumped out of the paddock."

Susan cried harder. "I feel so awful. I know now how you felt."

"You were good to me." Harry hugged her.

"But I didn't really know how you felt. I do now."

Harry hugged her again, then straightened up. "Know who can help us?" Susan shook her head, so Harry continued, "BoomBoom. She's got the best radar for men of any of us. If he's up to no good, she'll figure it out. And really, Susan, I don't think he is."

Susan considered this as she again wiped away her tears, the soft leather of the glove cool against her colder skin. "Think she would?"

"Help? Sure."

"Well—"

"Let's call her on my cell in the truck. If she's free we can go down the mountain and meet her. It will ease your mind."

"I can't right this minute," Susan replied. "I came here to think but also to pick up Great-Uncle Thomas for Thanksgiving dinner. He's eighty-two now. Hard to believe. Anyway," she paused, "it's quite strange, really. He said to me, 'Susan, my time is near. I'd like to spend Thanksgiving with you.' He's healthy as a horse. I told him he was a long way from death's door."

"Some people know. Like animals know." Harry considered what Thomas had told Susan.

"Don't you start." Susan frowned for a moment. "People get older and anytime something happens to them they attribute it to age. I'm telling you, G-Uncle"—Susan called him "G" for "great"—"will outlive most of the brothers of this order."

"Already has." Harry laughed.

"That's true." Susan shook a snowflake from her nose. "He was a chatterbox. He went on about how he loves his work here. He repairs the plumbing, he keeps the fountains in the gardens going. He gardens. It was really touching to hear him." Susan paused. "He brought up the legend of the Blessed Virgin Mother's statue. How she cried in 1914, and then in 1941 after Pearl Harbor was attacked. He said he'd like to believe it, to see her tears, but if he did, it would herald a dreadful crisis, so he supposed he would die without seeing the tears. He believes she works miracles for those who believe. He really is touching."

"Wonder if it's true?" Harry was skeptical. "A stain of runny bird poop could look like tears."

"Harry, you are awful!"

"Says you," Harry laughed.

Susan stood up, linked her arm through Harry's as Tucker jumped off the bench, dashing in front of them. "Come on, I'll walk you to the statue, then I'll go fetch G-Uncle. He should be ready by now."

Tucker, senses sharper, wanted to protect the humans whose senses—except for their eyes—weren't as keen. She'd race ahead, stop, sniff, swivel her ears. The coast was clear, so she'd look back at the humans, wait for them to approach, then scout ahead. Tucker reached the base of the Virgin Mary's statue, where she waited for the two friends.

As they reached the tall statue, both reflexively looked up at her face.

"My God!" Susan exclaimed.

Harry's hand went to her heart. "She's crying blood."

2

Brother Prescott, hands tucked into the thick gray wool sleeves of his robe, watched the Virgin Mary's face intently. His large, watery blue eyes never wavered from her face. "Hmm."

A trickle of fading pink slid down her cheeks.

"It was blood when we left her." Harry felt slightly foolish.

"There certainly seems to be something, but—" He stood on his tiptoes. The statue towered above him on the large boulder on which she was securely replaced after being removed and repaired during the summer.

"I'm sorry to have you come out in this cold. The mercury's diving." Susan shivered.