Блейз Клемент - Cat Sitter On A Hot Tin Roof

He had already told me about the medication and why they had decided on surgery, but he obviously needed to tell it again.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “As you might imagine, Gillis and I live with the fear of a terrible fall—into fire, water, whatever—or of his cognitive development being . . . well, you know. Do you have children?”

I didn’t want to answer him, because a parent numbed by fear over a child’s illness doesn’t want to hear how another child died. But I also didn’t want to disrespect my own child by denying her.

I said, “I had a little girl. She was killed in an accident when she was three. I understand how you feel about Jeffrey.”

He looked stricken. “I’m sorry.”

For both our sakes, I needed to get the conversation back to why I was there.

I said, “Please don’t worry about Mazie while you’re gone. Pete Madeira will be here twenty-four/seven, and I’ll come twice a day and walk her.”

Pete’s a former professional clown I’d met through some circus people I know—Sarasota has a long circus history—and he sometimes helped me out when a client needed a full-time pet sitter.

Hal leaned forward and clasped his hands with desperate urgency. “There’s a risk to surgery, but there may be a larger risk if we do nothing.”

The doorbell interrupted Hal’s compulsive explanation. As he opened the door, Gillis and Jeffrey came into the living room, Jeffrey with his arm over Mazie’s back and leaning against her as he walked.

Pete Madeira stood at the door, suitcase in hand and a clown nose stuck on his face. He also had a case with him that looked as if it might hold some kind of musical instrument. Pete had visited several times before, so he was as familiar to the family as I was. Hal and Gillis looked relieved to see him, and Mazie wagged her tail as if she were giving Pete her approval. Jeffrey gave him a tired smile, but I doubted that he understood Pete’s presence meant he was soon going to be separated from his best friend.

Pete is tall, slim, silver-haired, and handsome in the way men who are bright and curious remain all their lives. He retired a few years ago, but he still does gigs in hospices and children’s hospitals. He has woolly caterpillar eyebrows that he waggles for emphasis, and the softest heart in the western hemisphere.

Three suitcases already stood in the foyer, lined up by size like Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and Baby Bear luggage. Pete set his on the opposite side of the foyer.

He said, “I brought my saxophone. I hope that’s okay.”

Hal said, “I didn’t know you played saxophone.”

“Sure. That’s how I started in the circus. I was in the band, but clowning paid better and was more fun. I just play for my own pleasure now.”

“Pete, you’re a man of many talents.”

Pete grinned and did that thing with his eyebrows.

Gillis knelt beside Jeffrey. “Honey, you remember Pete? He’s going to stay here with Mazie and keep her company until we come home.”

Pete said, “Hi, pal.”

Jeffrey smiled but looked confused.

Pete said, “Want a clown nose like mine?”

Jeffrey shook his head and covered his nose with his hand.

Hal said, “We have to go now.”

Gillis knelt beside Jeffrey while Hal picked up their luggage.

Too hesitantly, Gillis said, “It’s time for the trip I told you about. Remember I told you?”

Jeffrey stiffened and reached for Mazie, already resisting what was to come.

Gillis said, “Mazie’s staying here. Remember?”

Jeffrey burst into hysterical shrieks and flung himself flat against the floor. “I want Mazie to come too!”

Gillis was pale with tension. As Jeffrey’s fists churned, Mazie got to her feet and nuzzled his neck. It took me a moment to realize she did it intentionally to forestall a tantrum. Or a seizure. Jeffrey’s rigid body relaxed and his cries reduced to a low droning.

Like a man inspired, Pete knelt beside his cases and in seconds held a gleaming saxophone to his lips. Soft sweet music rose above Jeffrey’s cries, and in a minute or two Jeffrey stopped crying and looked toward Pete. Even Mazie took her eyes off Jeffrey for a moment to look at him. I remembered Pete telling me once that circus bands had always played to distract audiences when something unpleasant happened, like an aerialist or ropewalker falling.

Gillis gathered Jeffrey into her arms and stood up. Intrigued by the music, Jeffrey put a thumb in his mouth and stared at Pete. Jeffrey’s eyes were dull and flat. I doubted he fully realized what was happening, which is probably the only good side effect of children’s medication. Mazie began walking in erratic circles around Gillis, who looked as if she might break down at any moment.

Hal murmured, “Mazie hasn’t left Jeffrey’s side more than a few minutes in all the time she’s been with him.”

I got Mazie’s leash and snapped it on her collar.

“Come on, Mazie, let’s go for a walk!”

Because she was a good dog trained to obey commands, she reluctantly followed me outside and allowed herself to be led to the sidewalk. I took her in the opposite direction that her family would take. She looked over her shoulder several times, obviously confused about the turn of events, but we had rounded a curve when I heard Hal’s car drive away, so Mazie didn’t see them leave. If I had it to do over again, I might not handle Jeffrey’s departure that way, but at the time it seemed the right thing to do.

When I thought it was safe, I led Mazie back home. At the driveway, the woman I’d met that morning trotted by, her tank top dark in spots with jogging perspiration. When she saw me, she stopped and came forward with her hand out.

She said, “I’m Laura Halston. I should have introduced myself this morning. I was a total shrew, wasn’t I?”

Her teeth were milk white, with a little inverted V at the bottom of the two upper centrals that was too perfect—one of those subtle signs that tell you a person has given a lot of money to a cosmetic dentist.

I gave her my name again and tried not to stare. I didn’t want to be the kind of person who went slack-jawed just because another person had more than an average share of good looks. A lot more.

She said, “Do you run?”

“Run?”

“For exercise.”

“Well, I run with a greyhound twice a day. That’s plenty exercise.”

“I run every morning. It’s the only thing I’m disciplined about.”

She said it with pride, and stuck out a foot in its expensive running shoe to emphasize that she was serious about running.

Then she put her hands on her knees and leaned toward Mazie. “Hi, Mazie. How’re you doing, girl?”

I was once again struck by all her contradictions. She was gorgeous but she didn’t seem stuck up about it, she was sensitive to animals, she seemed to say every thought that drifted across her cortex, and she took little-girl pride in the fact that she ran. I liked that.

Mazie tried to be friendly, but she kept looking over her shoulder toward her house. If I hadn’t been so taken with Laura Halston, I might have been more sensitive to Mazie’s confusion. She knew something was different in her world, and she didn’t know why.

As it was, Laura and I said some more innocuous things, nothing of any importance, and she trotted away while I took Mazie back inside the house.

That’s all there was to it. There was absolutely no way I could have known that my chance meeting with Laura Halston would one day haunt me, or that knowing her would ultimately make me question myself in a way I’d never done before.

2

Most people, when they hear about any key in Florida, think Florida Keys, but the Florida Keys are about six hours south of us, damn near to Cuba. They’re just a string of barrier islands too, so I don’t know why they get to be called the Florida Keys, as if they’re the state’s licensed keys, but that’s how it is. Life’s like that. Half the things people take for granted don’t make a lick of sense.