Talk of the Town (16 page)

Alice was taken aback. “Another degree? Maxwell, you’ve been in school all your life. Don’t you want to be finished with it? Plus, it’s expensive.” As soon as she uttered the words, she remembered whom she was addressing and felt vaguely embarrassed.

He smiled, but there was a cynical slant to his lips. “My father will pay for my expenses. As long as I’m in school, he isn’t obligated to see much of me or feign interest. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be a student forever.”

Alice did not know what to say in response to that. “I’m sorry,” she said, but she knew it was completely inadequate, so she added the one thing she knew she could do to help him. “I’ll pray for you, and for your father and for your relationship with him.”

They entered the kitchen, and Maxwell went to his room to clean up before breakfast. Jane was at her stove, humming something under her breath as she was seasoning an omelet.

“I’m back,” Alice said.

“Oh, hi.” Jane said. “Clothilda got off all right?”

“She did. She was very excited about seeing the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. It will be interesting to see just how much touring they can cram into three days.”

“Good morning,” Louise said as she entered the kitchen.

“Good morning,” chorused Jane and Alice.

“Jane, did I see Maxwell carrying a trash bag when I looked out my window a few minutes ago?”

“You did, indeed.” Jane grinned. “He offered. I accepted. He’s starting to feel less like a guest and more like… I don’t know, a family friend. Is it all right if I invite him to eat with us again tonight? I feel bad for him, having to eat alone every evening. And he still has that dreadful cold.” She took the skillet off the stove and expertly flipped the omelet, then shook the pan around in a circular motion before tilting it and sliding the omelet onto a plate, which she placed in the oven’s warmer.

“It’s all right with me,” Alice said. “I know he often has lunch at the Coffee Shop. He’s made friends there, but dinner alone can’t be fun.”

“I suppose it’s all right with me,” said Louise after a moment. “I have not gotten to know him as well as you two, but that will change if he has dinner with us again.”

An odd noise on the back porch, a thump, punctuated her sentence.

All three sisters’ heads swiveled as one.

“What was that?” Jane asked.

“Bigfoot,” said Louise.

“Not very funny,” Alice told her, “especially after I spent a night sleeping outside and rolling around in the woods.”

They all laughed but quieted as they heard a second sound.

“That sounds like… like a scratch at the door!” Jane said in a rush. She practically flew across the kitchen and threw open the back door.

Wendell was sitting on the porch, one paw raised as if to knock. He was bedraggled, muddy and emaciated, but undeniably their cat.

Louise gasped and Alice cried out, “Oh!” as Jane fell to her knees.

“Wendell! Oh, Wendell, you precious boy. You’ve come home.” Jane reached out and tentatively stroked the cat and his eyes closed as he pushed his head against her hand. Jane began to cry. “Look at him,” she said to her sisters. “He’s so thin.”

Alice and Louise both came over and knelt. Alice moved very carefully as if she wasn’t quite sure he was real. Louise reached out and ran a hand very lightly down his spine and he arched his back. “You silly old thing,” she said, but her voice quavered.

Alice bent so she was at eye-level with the cat. “Where have you been, mister?” she asked softly. “What happened to you?”

Wendell took a few steps forward and butted his head against her.

“He’s limping,” announced Louise. She rose. “I’m calling the vet.”

“Yes, you’d better,” murmured Alice, scratching beneath his chin as she carefully looked him over. “His left ear is badly torn and the left leg appears to have some kind of open wound.”

“I can’t believe he’s home.” Jane leaped to her feet and dashed to the pantry. Wendell perked up, but appeared loath to leave Alice’s stroking hands. He meowed loudly, though, when Jane returned with one of his special treat packets that she kept in the pantry. “Here you go, sweet boy.”

They watched as Wendell inhaled the treat. Then he cocked his head and looked at Jane, clearly wondering where the next course was.

Jane cleared her throat. “I need to put food and water in his dishes.”

“Better wait on that,” advised Louise, her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “The vet says we can bring him right in.” She held up her finger for silence and spoke into the phone, “Thank you,” she said into the receiver. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Clicking off the phone, she reached for her purse and keys, which she had laid on the table when she came into the kitchen. “I’ll drive.”

“I’ll carry Wendell,” Alice said. “I need an old towel.”

Jane dashed to the pantry again. “I have a couple right here. I can’t go. I have to make breakfast.”

“It’s all right,” Alice said. “I’m sure the vet will just clean these wounds and send him home again.”

“I hope so.” Jane remembered her breakfast preparations and rushed back to the stove. “Come home as soon as you can.”

At the animal hospital, Wendell was carefully examined. The vet felt that the cat probably had sustained his wounds in a fight with another animal. She cleaned and medicated both his ear and his leg, and then put three stitches into the ear. She prescribed a course of oral antibiotics to follow for the next ten days.

“Feed him small amounts several times a day until his weight is back to normal,” said the vet. “We don’t want him to get sick from overeating. He clearly hasn’t had much food while he was lost.”

“How long will it take for him to gain back his weight?” Alice asked.

The vet shrugged. “Probably only a week or two. Cats regain lost weight surprisingly quickly.” The doctor paused. “I often hear secondhand stories about animals finding their way home, but I rarely hear about them directly from a pet owner who has experienced it. You must be thrilled.”

“Over the moon and beyond,” said Alice.

The vet shook her head as she stroked Wendell’s soft, gray-striped side. “You’re a miracle boy, do you know that? Finding your way home all alone can’t have been easy.”

“Oh, I don’t think he was alone,” Alice said. “We’ve been praying, as has our whole church, for almost two weeks now. I believe Wendell had an angel sitting on his shoulder.”

“An angel named Daniel,” Louise suggested, her voice much softer than normal.

“Maybe,” said Alice. “That’s a lovely thought, Father helping Wendell get home again.” She bent and looked into the cat’s eyes. “Don’t you ever scare us like this again,” she crooned. “We can’t take a repeat.”

“Amen,” the vet and Louise both said at the same time.

Then the sisters carried their cat gingerly to Louise’s car and took him home where he belonged.

Chapter Fourteen

I
f the phone rang once that day, it rang a dozen times. Alice answered the first call at five minutes before ten. They barely had been home from the veterinary clinic for an hour.

“Alice, it’s Vera. I heard you found Wendell.”

Alice smiled. “Actually, he found us, Vera. He made his own way home this morning.”

“Is he all right?”

“Yes. He’s thin and has a few minor injuries but he’s going to be fine. How did you hear already?”

“Maxwell stopped at the hardware store to tell Fred a little while ago…”

“Jane, this is Wilhelm. Sylvia told me your cat came back when I ran into her at the post office. Excellent news.”

“Yes, we think so.”

“And you think he got here from Potterston all by himself?”

“It certainly looks that way, Wilhelm. All by himself with an awful lot of prayers from Acorn Hill guiding his way…”

“Louise, this is your aunt calling. I just heard that Wendell managed to get home. I cannot believe you did not call me right away.”

“He hasn’t even been back three hours yet, Aunt Ethel. We just were so excited and happy that we all completely forgot.”

Ethel sniffed, but her voice was warm when she said, “You give that striped troublemaker a squeeze from me until I get over there to give him one myself. And tell him I’ll skin him if he ever does this again…”

“Miss Howard. I just got home from school and my mom told me that Wendell came back to you. Is it true?”

“Sarah?”

“Oh yes. Sorry. I was so excited I forgot my manners.”

Alice’s eyes misted. Sarah Roberts was one of her ANGELs and just the sort of thoughtful child who would have organized something like that group card-signing last week. “It’s true, Sarah. Your prayers worked.”

“Cool! I’ll tell the other girls…”

Wendell, oblivious to the commotion his reappearance had created, spent much of the morning happily snoozing on Alice’s bed in a patch of sunlight. From time to time, as the sun moved, he got up and stretched languidly, then lay back down a few inches farther over so he stayed fully in the warm light spilling through the window.

Alice checked on him frequently. It was so good to see him there again in one of his favorite resting places. Kneeling beside the bed, she stroked him until he was purring like an outboard motor. He was lying on his side and the pads on his back paws were visible. Alice winced at their condition. The pads were scraped and torn in several places.

“You had a rough time of it out there in the big, bad world, didn’t you?” she murmured.

At lunchtime, she carried him down the stairs to the kitchen, where Jane had a small meal prepared with his antibiotic pill ground up and mixed into the food.

Louise watched him eat, and then cleared her throat. “Wendell,” she said, “you still can’t get on the table. But I solemnly swear I will never give you a hard time again. I will just pick you up and put you on the floor if you’re into something you shouldn’t be.”

“Gracious!” said Jane suddenly.

Both of her sisters looked at her.

“What’s wrong?” asked Louise.

“Nothing.” Jane made soothing motions with her hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. But it just occurred to me that we need to call Mr. Jervis and let him know we found Wendell.”

“You mean that he found us,” Alice said, smiling fondly as she watched him eat.

“Well, yes.” Jane rose from her chair. “I have his number in our guest registry. I better call him right now.”

“Please do,” Louise said. “I can only imagine how relieved the poor man will feel.”

Jane left the room, returning a few minutes later with a smile on her face. “I believe I brightened his day,” she said, “or possibly his entire week. He was thrilled.” She walked over and inspected the bowl Wendell had finished licking clean. “Good. It looks as if he ate all of the antibiotic mixed in with the food. I was afraid he might detect the taste and refuse to eat it.”

Louise lifted an eyebrow. “Since when has this cat refused to eat anything?”

“True,” Jane agreed. “That’s what started all the trouble in the first place.”

All three sisters watched him while he sat and carefully washed himself. Then Alice carried him back upstairs.

Maxwell returned to the inn shortly after lunch and joined the sisters in the living room.

“Well, if it isn’t the town crier,” Jane said.

Alice laughed. “Thank you for letting people know the good news about Wendell’s coming home. It saved us having to repeat it over and over.”

He blushed. “I didn’t think you would mind.” Then he began to cough, as he’d been doing off and on for the past few days. This cough sounded deeper than before, and his thin frame shook from the force of it.

Jane was worried. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It doesn’t feel so good either,” he said breathlessly.

“Maybe you should take it easy for a day or two,” Alice suggested. “Rest a bit more.”

“I didn’t make you any tea this morning,” Jane said. “With all the excitement over Wendell, I completely forgot.”

“It’s all right.” He coughed again and held up a hand to indicate that they should wait until he could speak again. “I’ve taken cold medicine.”

“For all the good that seems to be doing,” muttered Jane. “Well, the tea is a homeopathic remedy and has nothing in it that could react with cold medicine. Come with me to the kitchen and let me make you some more.”

He hesitated.

Alice said, “That tea really does seem to help when I have a cold.”

“All right. Thank you.” And he meekly followed Jane down the hallway.

In the kitchen, she quickly mixed up the tea and heated a mug in which she set the little linen packet to steep.

“Jane?”

Maxwell really didn’t look well, she thought. His eyes had dark circles beneath them, and his skin was as colorless as could be. “Yes?”

“Did you ever do something you were ashamed of, and then you didn’t know how to make it right? Or even to admit it?”

Jane smiled. “Of course. We all make mistakes, Maxwell.”

“But can you think of anything specific?”

Jane thought for a moment. “When I was eight, I broke a vase playing tag in the house with the neighbor’s kids. The vase had belonged to my mother, who passed away when I was born. I was sure Father was going to be angry because he had a rule about not running in the house, so I hid the pieces. Then, scheming little creature that I was, I went to the attic, which was filled with all sorts of old family trash and treasures—still is, come to think of it—and found another vase. It wasn’t special or an heirloom, but I hoped he wouldn’t notice.”

“And did he?”

Jane was silent for a moment before she continued. “I hardly slept all night, worrying about how dishonest I had been. The next morning at breakfast, Father very casually mentioned that he was going to bring home some flowers that day for the vase in the hall that Mother had loved, and asked me to bring it to the kitchen so he could wash it. Well, of course he knew it wasn’t there. So I, dragging my feet the whole way, brought back the substitute vase. But I couldn’t stand myself anymore and I burst into tears and told Father what I had done. And guess what?”

“What?” Maxwell appeared to be hanging on her words.

“He wasn’t angry. But he was disappointed and that was even worse—” Her attention was diverted as Wendell walked slowly into the room. “Hello, my buddy. How are you feeling? I bet you haven’t slept so well in days.”

Wendell meowed plaintively and rubbed himself against her legs.

Jane laughed. “All right. I’m sure you are hungry. But you can’t tell Alice or Louise.” She went to the pantry and opened the door. Wendell moved with her. Then, as Maxwell watched, Wendell rose on his hind legs and nipped a small package off the lowest shelf.

“His treats,” Jane explained. “I usually give him one midmorning, but I think for a few days I’m going to give him one in the afternoon too. At least until he fattens up a bit.” She bent and stroked the cat, then rose and went to the sink to wash her hands. “Now, what were we talking about?”

“Nothing important.” Maxwell rose from the chair he’d taken and picked up his mug of tea. “Thank you for the tea.”