Kelly Sofie - Curiosity Thrilled The Cat

So I did.

I woke up a bit later than usual on Sunday morning, after a night filled with bizarre dreams. In one of them Oren was playing the piano for an audience of cats.

I was in the kitchen in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, cutting up fruit, when Rebecca tapped on the back door. She looked tired and pale without her usual deep-rose lipstick.

“Kathleen, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I was just about to make crepes. Is everything all right?”

“No,” she said. “Well, yes.” She rubbed the side of her face with her fingers. “I’m sorry. I’m not making a lot of sense. Ami is in the hospital. She’s all right, but she’s all alone. I hate to bother you, but would you be able to drive me there?” She held up her bandaged arm. “I can’t drive—not safely—with this arm.”

“Of course I’ll drive you,” I said. “You said Ami’s all right, but what happened to her?” I asked.

“She had some kind of allergic reaction. Her throat swelled and she couldn’t breathe. She was at Eric’s with some of the others from the festival. There was a doctor, a tourist, having dessert with his wife. What are the chances a doctor would . . .” She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again and gave a soft sigh. “But he was,” she said in a stronger voice. “And Ami’s all right.”

“That’s all that matters,” I said.

“You’re right,” Rebecca said. “What matters is Ami is all right.”

“Just give me a minute to pull some clothes on.” I led her into the kitchen and pulled out a chair. “Have a seat. I’ll only be a minute.”

I grabbed the bowl of fruit from the counter, set a plate on top as a temporary cover and put the dish in the refrigerator. I touched Rebecca on the shoulder as I passed behind her. “Be right back,” I said. “There’s coffee, if you’d like a cup.”

She covered my hand with her own for a moment. “Thank you,” she said softly.

I gave her shoulder a squeeze and headed for the stairs. I pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, combed my hair and used a clip to keep my bangs back. Then I grabbed my purse and went back downstairs.

Rebecca was talking to someone. Owen. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but she was leaning forward in her chair, speaking quietly. Owen sat in front of her, head tipped to the side, listening intently.

“I’m ready,” I said. “I’ll be back soon,” I told Owen.

The cats had already been fed and there was fresh water in their dishes. I switched off the coffeemaker, locked the door behind us and walked through the backyard with Rebecca to her little blue Toyota. She handed me the keys. I opened the passenger’s door for her, then went around and unlocked the driver’s side. It took me a moment to adjust the seat and mirrors.

“We’re going to Riverview?” I asked Rebecca.

“Yes. Do you know where that is?”

“I do,” I said. I backed out and headed down Hill Street, trying to figure out the most direct route to the hospital. On a Sunday morning in Mayville Heights there wasn’t much traffic, so it really didn’t matter which way I drove.

As we neared the hospital I braked to let a squirrel in the middle of the street bolt the rest of the way across, and gave Rebecca a smile.

She managed a smile back. She had been quiet, tense, the whole way. Finally she spoke. “I know I’m not Ami’s grandmother, but I couldn’t love her more if I were.”

The squirrel made one last dash for the curb.

“How did you and Ami get to be so close?” I asked.

“I cut her hair.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw her smile at the memory. “She was a little hellion. Her parents had died in a car accident when she was four. Her grandmother had died long before she was born, so Ami was being raised by her grandfather and a series of nannies.”

“She was a little spoiled,” I ventured.

Rebecca laughed at that. “She had hair like Mowgli from the Jungle Book and she was saucy and rude. I told her I’d cut her hair when she learned some manners.”

“And did she?”

“She went home and cut her own hair with a pair of kitchen shears she swiped from the pantry.”

I grinned. “Not good.”

“No, it wasn’t. The nanny brought her back to get me to repair the damage. She was just as rude and just as stubborn as she had been the first visit. But I liked the child. She reminded me of someone . . . someone I used to know.” She cleared her throat. “I told her if she was going to cut her own hair she should at least learn how to do it properly. Saturday morning she was sitting by the door of the shop when I arrived to open up. A few weeks later she ran away from home. I found her wrapped up in a sheet she’d pulled off someone’s clothesline, asleep on a lawn chair.”

I pulled into the hospital driveway and found a parking spot to the right of the entrance.

“Thank you so much, Kathleen,” Rebecca said.

“I’m coming in with you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Don’t make me get out my kitchen shears to make a point,” I said with mock sternness. “Do you want that on your conscience?”

Rebecca smiled. “All right, you win.”

We found Ami sitting up in bed. Her hair was lank, her skin was pale and she looked about twelve years old. She bit her lip and swallowed hard when she caught sight of Rebecca.

Rebecca wrapped her arms around Ami and kissed the top of her head. “Are you all right?” she asked. She leaned back out of the hug, pushed the hair back off Ami’s face and studied it.

Ami nodded. “I couldn’t . . . breathe,” she said.

I noticed a couple of long scrapes on her throat, as though she’d clawed at it.

Rebecca laid a hand on Ami’s cheek. “But you’re all right now and we’re going to find out what you’re allergic to and how to keep you safe.” She gave Ami another hug. “Everything’s all right,” she said.

Ami laid her head on Rebecca’s shoulder. “I just want to go home,” she said.

Rebecca gently patted her back. “We’re going to take you home and I’m going to spoil you for the rest of the day.”

Ami looked over at me. “Hi, Kathleen,” she said.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Thank you for bringing Rebbie,” she said. “I didn’t know who else to call. I didn’t think about her not being able to drive.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said.

“Sweetie, where are your clothes?” Rebecca asked, looking around the room.

“I think they might be in that closet,” Ami said, pointing at a narrow cupboard by the window.

Rebecca looked inside and pulled out a clear plastic bag. Ami’s things were inside, the end of the bag tied in a loose knot.

“Let me get that,” I said. I undid the knot and handed the bag back to her. She shook out Ami’s clothes and laid them on the bed.

“Can you get dressed by yourself?” she asked.

Ami nodded.

“Okay. I’m going to find a nurse and see if there are any special instructions you need to follow.”

“I think there’s a referral to an allergist,” Ami said. “I’m going to have to be tested even though the doctor—the one here, not the one at Eric’s—is pretty sure it was the poppy seeds.”

Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment. “Poppy seeds,” she whispered. She swallowed and opened her eyes. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

“I’ll wait outside,” I said to Ami. “Yell if you need help.”

By the time Ami was dressed, Rebecca was back with a list of allergists and the rest of Ami’s paperwork. I drove them to Ami’s small apartment, down the street from the Stratton.

“Kathleen, would you take the car home for me?” Rebecca asked.