Kate hobbled along the sidewalk and surveyed the destruction. Anatole’s car looked like an accordion. Four police cruisers were in various stages of smashed disarray behind the Cadillac. And the Cadillac didn’t have a dent.
Gus polished a fender with his sleeve. “She’s classic,” he said proudly.
Howie ambled over to Dave and Kate. “Who the devil was driving this Cadillac?”
Elsie stepped forward. “I was,” she said, her mouth clamped tight, her eyes glittery little steel orbs.
Howie shook his head. “How did I know that?” He looked up to the heavens. “Why me? Why me?”
“Don’t you want to know if I have a license?” Elsie asked.
Howie chewed on his lower lip. “No,” he said. “I definitely don’t want to know if you have a license.”
“I have a license,” Dave said.
Gus raised his hand. “So do I.”
“Good enough for me,” Howie told them. “I’m not Traffic anyway.”
When they finally got back to the house, Anatole was sprawled on the couch, working his way through the fruit basket, watching TV. Dave stared at him in amazement. His shirt didn’t have a wrinkle in it, his hair was perfectly in place, his tie not even a millimeter askew. “He doesn’t grow whiskers, does he?” Dave whispered to Kate.
“Of course not. Whiskers are messy. They wouldn’t dare grow on Anatole’s face.”
Anatole was on his feet. “My car?”
Dave smiled at Kate. “Let me tell him.”
“All right, but you owe me,” Kate said.
“Totaled. Smush city. Looks like an elephant sat on it.”
Anatole turned pale. “It was one of a kind. Special order. I waited six months for that car.”
Dave clucked his tongue in sympathy. “How long have you had it?”
A half-eaten apple rolled from Anatole’s hand and dropped on the floor. “Two weeks.”
“Boy, that’s a shame,” Dave said. “Prime depreciation.”
Anatole ran his hand through his hair, but nothing moved out of place. “How am I going to get home?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Elsie said. “I’ll give you a lift.” Anatole looked defeated, but he followed her outside.
Dave and Kate stood at the living room window and watched Elsie peel away from the curb.
“Anatole deserves it,” Dave said.
Kate agreed. “He needs more excitement in his life.”
A lone fire truck stood vigil, playing a stream of water on the smoldering remains of the gutted building across the street. The smell of smoke was everywhere, penetrating the houses. Outside Kate’s window the truck engine hummed as it continued to pump water. Men called to one another. The truck radio crackled with messages. The flasher on a police car sent pulses of color up and down the street.
Dave wrapped his arms around Kate and kissed her neck. “Now what? Are you hungry? Are you sleepy? Are you sexy?”
“Yes.”
“How about if we go over to my house, where we’ll have more privacy…”
Kate suddenly felt shaky. She’d used up all her bravery, all her energy, all her self-discipline. She wanted nothing more than to be taken care of, to lie in Dave’s arms and feel safe and cosseted. And she wanted to be in a house where she could draw the curtains on the world. “That sounds great. Just let me get a change of clothes from upstairs.”
The unopened boxes and bags from her shopping trip had been dropped in a heap by the stairs, and a scratching post and litter box that didn’t fit in a bag sat beside the other parcels. Kate went cold at the sight of them. The kitten. She’d forgotten all about the kitten. It had been bounding around in noisy exploration just before the explosion, and now the house was quiet. It hadn’t come to greet them. It wasn’t anywhere in sight. She tried to remember if they had left the front door open when they’d all rushed outside, and she was almost certain they had.
Dave saw her face turn white and followed her eyes to the litter box. “Oh, damn.”
Without saying another word, they began a methodical search of the house. It wasn’t difficult. The house wasn’t fully furnished. There were few corners where a kitten might hide.
When every nook and cranny had been examined and the kitten hadn’t turned up, Kate sat down at the bottom of her stairs and burst into tears. A camera pod had fallen through her roof, she’d broken her leg, she’d laid waste a concert, she’d witnessed a chicken being held at knifepoint, and she’d been kidnapped. Somehow she’d been able to get through it. But neglecting a kitten was more than she could bear. All her worst fears about herself were true.
Chapter 10
“I’m an airhead,” she wailed. “All I know is music. I haven’t a scrap of common sense. And I’m totally self-centered. Like Anatole. I should have stayed married to him. We make the perfect pair.”
“You’re not an airhead. You’re intense, and you’re dedicated to your music. That doesn’t make you an airhead. And you’re certainly not like Anatole. You’re the precise opposite of Anatole. You’re full of life and enthusiasm and joy. You’re passionate and spontaneous and loving.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I lost my kitten.”
“The house across the street exploded! We all ran out to see what was happening. It was as much my fault as yours. Probably more. I don’t have a cast to slow me down. I should have checked on the door.”
She was inconsolable. “It was my kitten. I was responsible for it.”
He wiped her tears away with his thumb. “Everything will work out all right. We haven’t looked outside yet. Kittens have a way of turning up when they get hungry.”
She hiccuped and went in search of a tissue. “That’s true. We haven’t looked outside.” She blew her nose and slowly moved toward the front door on her crutches.
Dave watched the effort she had to exert to keep going. She was out on her feet, and from the way she gingerly carried her broken leg, he suspected she was in pain. “Kate, why don’t you let me look for the kitten?”
“I can’t. This is something I have to do.”
Damn stubborn redhead, he thought. She was going to make a hell of a wife. He ran next door to get a flashlight and followed her around the neighborhood, calling ”kitty, kitty, kitty” and shining the light in front yards, under cars, into porch corners.
Finally, she admitted defeat. Her leg throbbed unmercifully, and she was bone-tired. They’d traveled three blocks in every direction, but there was no kitten. She hadn’t even named it, she thought miserably. She’d brought it home and immediately forgotten about it. Now it was lost, or worse. She thought of all the emergency vehicles that had roared up and down her street for the better part of the evening, and a chill shook her. It would have been so easy for a kitten to get caught under one of those huge tires.
When Dave suggested she spend the night with him, she didn’t object. She simply wanted to crawl into the first available bed and go to sleep for a very long time. And when she woke up she would go back to her music, just like before. It was the one thing she could count on. She was good at it. She had control. If things didn’t go right, only she was hurt.
“We’ll look again in the morning,” Dave said. “When it’s light.”
Kate nodded, her eyes bright with tears. “In the morning,” she whispered.
He carefully undressed her, buttoned her into a flannel pajama top, and tucked her into his bed. She was hurting, and he couldn’t help her. She was too tired to fight back. The best he could do was to comfort. But come morning, when she had some of her normal resiliency, they were going to have a discussion.
Kate woke up with a hangover. Not enough sleep and too many tears, she thought. She didn’t feel nearly as desperate as she had the night before, but her head was pounding. She propped herself up in bed and squinted at the sunlight splashing through the open window.
“ ’Morning,” Dave said, sliding through the door with a tray. “I’ve brought you breakfast.”
<
br /> “Breakfast in bed. Some special occasion?”
“It’s in honor of your foot. It’s swollen. Too much activity yesterday.”
Kate looked under the covers and confirmed it. “Damn.”
He set the tray across her lap. Orange juice, waffles, four links of sausage, and coffee. “I talked to Howie this morning. They’re holding your kidnapper without bail, and the fire’s definitely out in the house across the street.” He nibbled on a sausage. “They’re boarding it up until the owner has a chance to start restoration…”
“And no one’s seen my kitten.”
Dave sighed. “I’m sorry.”
Kate looked at her breakfast. “This was really sweet of you, but I don’t think I can eat anything.”
“You have to have a little faith, Kate. We’ll find the kitten.”
How could she tell him? It wasn’t just the kitten. He was probably right, and the kitten would come out of hiding when it got hungry. Her real problem was Dave. She loved him. More than music. More than she’d ever thought possible. He was always there for her. He made her feel fragile and strong and desirable—all at the same time. He knew when to cuddle, when to stroke, when to tease. And he made her feel needed. He made her feel like a necessary part of his life. He would never be someone she simply passed in the kitchen en route to work. Their mating went far beyond the physical. It was emotional and intellectual, as natural as breathing. And just as essential.
Thinking about it, having him here on the bed beside her brought so much pain she could hardly speak, because she was firmly convinced they would never get married. Even her father had seen the futility in the relationship. He’d tempered his feeling with fatherly affection and placed the blame on Dave. Kate understood about transference. His judgment was slightly skewed but essentially correct. She and Dave were all wrong for each other.
And on top of that, Kate knew she wasn’t a family sort of person. She threw tantrums and forgot to make meals and lost kittens. Not mother material. And that was very sad, because Dave was definitely father material. He needed a kid to share his comic books and run his train. Someday he’d find a woman who liked the idea of a rich man lazing around the house all day, and they’d live happily ever after.
Kate pushed the tray away. She didn’t want to tell him about this. She’d rather he think it was over the kitten. And in a way it was over the kitten. Poor helpless little thing, she thought. She’d loved it from the first moment she laid eyes on it. Just like Dave. The thought of losing both of them was almost more than she could manage.
“It’s really important that I find my kitten,” she whispered, her voice thick. “I love her so much. How can you love something so desperately when you’ve known it for such a short time?”
“Sometimes it happens like that,” Dave said gently. He touched her flushed cheek with his fingertips and kissed her trembling lips. It wasn’t a kiss of passion. It was solace and understanding, love in its purest form.
He knew this wasn’t just about a kitten. She was going through a crisis, facing truths about herself, both real and imaginary. And he was going to wait for her to pass through that crisis. He’d wait a lifetime if he had to. He wouldn’t be dissuaded by her doubts about their compatibility because he knew they were right for each other. Not perfect, maybe, but close enough. Perfect would be boring. That brought a smile to his lips. Life with Kate would never be boring.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Dave said. “And you’re thinking too much. I’d guess you’re a person who usually relies on instinct. What do your instincts tell you, Kate?”
“Are we talking about the kitten?”
“Nope. We’re talking about us.”
“I don’t think I’m up to ‘us’ talk. Could we do this some other time?”
He kissed her on the forehead. “You bet. I have things to do anyway. You eat your breakfast, and I’ll take another look around the block for the kitten.”
An hour later she was dressed and slowly making her way down the stairs when Elsie knocked on the door. Kate’s heart jumped when she saw the little black kitten in Elsie’s arms. “You found it!” she said, throwing the door open.
“Yup. I saw it wandering around in the front yard.” Elsie handed Kate the squirming animal.
Kate held it at eye level and studied it. “Elsie, this isn’t my kitten. My kitten had one little white foot.”
“Shoot,” Elsie said. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“Did you actually find this kitten in my front yard?”
“Nope. I bought it at the pet store, and they won’t take it back.”
Kate set the kitten on the floor and watched it scamper around the dining room. “It’s cute. I suppose if we find my first kitten, it would like to have a friend.” She gave Elsie a hug. “It was nice of you to do this for me.”
“You were pathetic,” Elsie said.
Kate found it in her to smile a little. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Nope. I have a date with Gus. I gotta go meet his daughter.”
“Sounds serious.”
“Yup. I found a winner this time. He’s got a nice rent-controlled apartment just two blocks from here. He’s perfect.”
Now Kate really smiled. “Perfect for what?”
“Perfect for everything. Damned if he isn’t.”
“Elsie! I hope you’re being careful.”
“I’m being careful to snag him fast. You wait around when you’re my age, and before you know it, one of you has a heart attack.”
The thought of Elsie and Gus together brought a new lump to Kate’s throat. Why was marriage so easy for other people and so difficult for her?
When Elsie left, Kate fixed the litter box and gave the new kitten a bowl of milk. She’d just settled down in a chair when her mother and father rapped on the front door.
“We called early this morning,” her mother said, inching her way into the foyer, “and we heard about your lost kitten.” She gave her daughter a hug and a kiss. “Honey, I’m so sorry. Dave said the little thing just vanished into thin air.”
Kate nodded. It was hard to be cheery when people kept bringing up the subject of her misery.
“Daddy and I know it must get lonely for you sometimes, and so… well, we got you a new kitten.”
Her father took a fat black kitten out from under his topcoat. “It’s black. Just like your old one. We went to every pet store in northern Virginia and two in Maryland before we found a black kitten,” he said proudly.
Kate looked at the kitten. “Is it returnable?”
“You don’t like it?” Kate’s father looked crushed.
“I love it. It’s just that Elsie had the same idea.” Kate smiled. “Oh, what the heck. You never have too many kittens.” She took the kitten from her father and cuddled it.
“Your father has something else to say, too,” Kate’s mother said, giving her husband an elbow in the ribs.
A sheepish smile lit Michael Finn’s face. “I was wrong about Dave. I think he’s okay. He really loves you.” He shrugged. “And maybe if you nag him enough, he’ll get a job someday.”
Kate heard the front door thrown open and turned to see Dave bustle in.
“Look what I’ve got!” he said, holding a bedraggled black kitten aloft.
“My kitten?”
“No. I couldn’t find your kitten, so I went to the animal shelter, and I adopted an orphan. I got there just in time. They were going to gas this poor little tyke.” His mouth dropped open when two more black kittens ran across his feet.
“One’s from Elsie and the other’s from my mom and dad.” Kate smiled. “Everybody loves me.”
Dave put his kitten on the floor to join in the fun. He went to Kate and kissed her tenderly. “I know I sure do.”
Kate looked at him solemnly. She loved her kittens, but she knew nothing was ever going to replace Dave. She was going to hang on to all these wonderful little loving moments, she decided. She was going
to remember them when she was old and lonely and unloved. A tear trickled down her cheek.
“PMS,” she told her mother and father. “I’m fine… really.”
Kate and Dave had just finished saying good-bye to Kate’s parents when a taxi pulled up to the curb and Anatole got out. He had another orange-and-lavender fruit basket. Dave met him at the door.
“I ate all your fruit last night,” Anatole explained. “So I thought I should replace it.”
Dave took the basket for Kate. “Thanks, Anatole. That was nice of you.”
Anatole recoiled at the sight of three black kittens bounding down the porch stairs. “It’s a herd of cats!” he said. “Wasn’t one enough? Isn’t there a law against having more than one?” He looked at them more closely. “Where’s the original? The one with the white sock.”
“Lost,” Dave said. “It was missing when we came home last night, and we can’t find it anywhere.”
Anatole seemed puzzled. “You mean it got out of the backyard?”
“What?”
“Didn’t you find my note?”
Dave and Kate answered in unison, “No.”
“The kitten was running around looking frantic, and it occurred to me that it might be needing a cat bathroom, so I put it out back. I made sure the back gates were locked, so it couldn’t get out.”
Dave smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I never thought to look in the backyard.”
“I left you a note in the kitchen…” Anatole said.
Dave and Kate had already rounded up the kittens and disappeared inside Kate’s house with them. Anatole held his finger aloft, made a circular motion with it indicating the international gesture for fruitcake, and climbed back into the cab.
“It’s in the backyard!” Dave shouted to Kate. “Anatole put it in the backyard!”
Dave opened the back door and the kitten tumbled in. It looked up at him and meowed. Dave burst out laughing. “She’s hungry.”