CHAPTER EIGHT
Tart green apple with cubes of Dubliner cheddar sounded like a good post-library snack.
I winced as I sliced, but not from the knife slipping.
I’d finally scraped off the remaining gel from my nails and clipped them down.
The afternoon sunlight cutting through the kitchen window highlighted the roughness caused by leftover chemicals.
What were the chances I could get a good manicure nearby? My guess was zero.
The sound came then. It wouldn’t have stood out back in LA, but here in the middle of the woods, anything outside of birds chirping, brooks babbling, and my aunt’s tools whirring was unusual.
The car engine wasn’t her red Camaro. I could pick out the growl of that particular motor in a lineup. But it was an engine, chugging up to Bearberry Cabin, then idling and stopping. I licked apple juice off my finger and made the short trot to the front window.
Del?
She saw me peeking out the living room window and gave a princess wave before slamming the door of a blue 4Runner. She was holding something (tan, squat, top-handled) with her free hand.
I moved away, catching my reflection in a decorative wall mirror.
Limp hair, sunken eyes—pitiful. And what had happened to my morning contour-and-blush combo?
I tried to fluff out my locks. Vanity-wise, I was glad it was Del and not Penn who’d picked this time to show up.
For a dozen other reasons, my anxiety lit when I considered what I’d just learned about her at the library.
I stole a glance at the watch. The hands were still, thankfully.
I managed to swing open the front door before Del could knock. “Hey?” is all that came out.
“Hey yourself,” she said, interpreting the way I moved aside as an invitation.
She walked in and stopped on the braided rug in the center of the living room.
Up close, I could tell now that she was holding a thick plastic cage.
Given the fact that the first time I met Del, she was carrying an empty black birdcage, this both was and was not anything for me to wonder about.
“Um . . . ,” I tried. I could do better than this, but clearly not at the moment.
Del set down the cage. “I know I should’ve called or texted, but you left before we could exchange numbers the other day. I remembered you said you were staying at Bearberry Cabin, though, so . . .”
I exhaled. All of this was true, especially the leaving part. “It’s fine.” Although wearing a watch with a ghost boy trapped inside had bent my parameters for the term “fine.” “I’m just making a snack.”
“Cool.” She paused, doing a three-sixty appraisal. “I’ve never actually been inside this place. Super cute.”
Qué chula, Tía Viv had said during our trip up here. It felt like five million years ago. “The cutest,” I said, and motioned her on.
“Right. The reason I’m really here.” Her nose wrinkled. “Just hear me out, okay?”
History and Grier’s graduation bucket list—specifically numbers four and six—had taught me that nothing good ever started with these words. Proving my point, the plastic box on the rug meowed. Definitely not empty.
“Del, why is your cage meowing?”
“It’s more of a kennel. And—”
“Why did you bring a meowing kennel here?”
Big messy breath. “We have a situation. Actually, all of Sacred kind of does.” She held up her left wrist, now decorated with a massive stack of seed bead bracelets, then gave a blubbery choke. “Norah died!”
Norah . . . Norah . . .
“Remember, the bracelet lady from the farmers market?” She jiggled the colorful stack again.
“Okay, yes, sorry,” I said as my memory filled in the picture. “Oh my God, that’s horrible.”
Moisture pricked the corners of Del’s eyes. “So horrible. Norah was at Sweet Maple getting peanut brittle yesterday, and she had a heart attack right there in the middle of the store. She was gone before the ambulance arrived.”
“We just saw her Saturday,” I noted. “She seemed perfectly fine.”
“I can’t stop thinking about that part. It’s so hard to believe that was the last time I’ll ever . . .” Del stopped. Took a deep breath.
In that pause my mind wandered to another recently deceased. Had a town, a friend group, a family thought the same thing about Penn? Had he been fine one minute too, then gone for good?
“Norah loved animals,” Del said, bringing me back to the current moment.
“She lived alone and has no family around here. My mom and I went over and took all her pets to rehome them. Her Sacred friends adopted the cats, and I’m taking her dog.
Remember the adorable dachshund? Troy Bolton is mine now. ”
My brows dipped. “Troy Bolton. Like from High School Musical?” “Norah loved those movies.”
Sure, of course. “So you stopped by on your way to drop off the last cat with someone?”
“In a way,” Del said. “We were hoping you would take her.”
Either the earth just moved, or Del just asked me to adopt a cat. I gave a raspy “What?” Then I stumbled through the rest. “I’m only here for a few weeks, and I can’t take her home. My parents don’t allow pets.”
Del held out both hands. “It’s just temporary, promise! Mom and I are looking outside Sacred for a permanent family. Until then, we need a foster home for her.”
“Wait, why do you have to look outside Sacred? She couldn’t have had that many cats.”
“Oh no, nothing like that. Just, no one within a ten-mile radius of this place would even think of being in the same room as Anne Shirley.”
So many red flags. But also, “Anne Shirley? Like—”
“Yeah, Anne of Green Gables. Norah’s favorite childhood book, and mine.”
And also mine, which strung a thin, silvery thread between Del and me.
“She’s a red tabby, so it’s a perfect name.” Del peered into the kennel, and Anne Shirley gave a low, nasty hiss.
My mouth dropped wide. “Delilah!”
“Calm down—Jesus—you’re fine,” Del said to the cat, and turned.
“The only person Anne Shirley loved and even tolerated was Norah. For anyone else, she lives in bite, scratch, and claw mode. And yeah, there’s the hissing.
” Del held up two battered hands. “This is just from me trying to get her into the kennel. I finally had to use tuna fish.”
“You show up here with some she-devil cat who likes to sharpen her claws on human skin, and you expect me to take her in?”
Del shrugged. “I’m almost positive she’ll be fine with you. I had a hunch about her and you and this place, so I thought I’d try.”
My stomach fizzed. Del had a hunch about an ornery cat and me and Bearberry Cabin?
Was a hunch the same as a vision? Were the watch and the boy next?
As much as I wanted to ask about the Needles incident and her potential abilities, there was the more pressing matter of the surprise cat in my living room.
The questions running through my head must have read all over my face because Del started to negotiate.
“How about this: You open the kennel and let her out. If she tries her usual mean-girl crap with you, I’ll admit I was wrong, and I’ll drive her to the shelter in Eugene myself.
They’re usually packed, and it’s not great—”
“Okay, okay,” I said. Maybe it was the word “shelter” that got me willing to at least try. I didn’t want to think of innocent creatures being displaced and moved around, locked up somewhere that wasn’t their home.
But I had doubts this would work out the way Del wanted.
With that in mind, there was no careful creeping toward the kennel for me, no baiting or gentle cooing. I strode over and unlatched the kennel door, and out popped Anne Shirley.
The cat was neither large nor small. Not exactly fat or skinny either. She was very red, with the ginger-tinted hair of her bookish namesake. And striped, with white blotches along her stomach and her mouth and rimming each of her paws.
Anne Shirley locked celadon-green eyes onto my face, wrenched open her mouth (here—here it was, Del), and gave a monstrous, tuna fish–scented yawn.
Del clapped her hands and gave the kind of little cheerleader bounce I’d perfected. The cat turned to her, crouched, and—-
“Anne Shirley, no!” I called.
The tabby obeyed and flattened her reared-up stance just before lunging at Del. Razor-sharp claws still poked out from the white fur. But she’d stopped and sat in front of my feet and began licking her paw.
“Holy shit,” Del said. “I was right.”
Hinges creaked. Footsteps clomped. “O?yeme, nena, you’ll have to catch me up here.” It was Tía Viv, likely on a break. She gestured to the girl and the cat, brow hoisted high like a flag.
“Tía, Del and Anne Shirley,” I said, pointing. “Del, my tía Vivian.”
Del waved, Vivian returned it, and I gave a quick explanation of how both had ended up in our little creek-side world.
Vivian’s face softened, and before I could warn her about Anne Shirley’s horror-movie attitude, my tía sat on the floor, legs kicked out sideways, and gave the creature a little ear scratch. Then another.
Del gaped.
I sputtered.
“How cute! Qué lindos sus ojitos,” Viv said. She rose using no hands like the limber yoga queen she was. “This is wonderful. Remind me to let Dr. Andrews know.”
“Who?” I asked.
“My naturopath. She’ll be pleased to hear about my cat-hair allergy.”
I had completely forgotten. “Oh, that,” I said, stretching out the word over a cringe. We could definitely not take Anne Shirley now. How long until the hive invasion came?
Del’s face was giving the same concern, multiplied by ten with worry.
“No, no—that’s what I am saying,” Tía stressed.
“About six months ago Dr. Andrews put me on some new herbs to help with my seasonal allergies.” She nodded toward our tiny, shared hall bath.
“Those are the bottles taking most of the medicine cabinet space. They seem to be doing wonders with my pet allergies too. Before, my throat would already be red and itchy after two minutes with Anne Shirley. But I’m perfectly fine. ”
Del gave a mini whoop. “That’s awesome. Thank you, thank you. All of Sacred thanks you too. I’ll just grab the rest of her stuff,” she added, and dashed out toward the 4Runner.
I blinked myself present, making sure I hadn’t been snatched and dropped into another dimension like Penn. Vivian was grabbing a sparkling water. And Anne Shirley was doing an excellent impression of a letter o on the middle couch cushion. Pet hair plus the black clothes I loved—perfect.
“I like her,” Vivian said, referring to Del, and sipped. “And I am too busy to not be fine with this cat as long as you take care of her.”
I pushed two knuckles into my temple. “It’s temporary.”
“Still. Nice to see you making some friends around here.” My tía backed into the kitchen.
Were the past five minutes a preview of what being friends with Del would be like? Psychic abilities aside, she was another thing I’d have to get used to.
I moved the kennel next to the TV stand.
Anne Shirley hissed again when Del returned with an arsenal of supplies and toys, likely from Norah’s house.
“You have a cat!” Del said.
“Temporarily.”
She handed over a bag of kibble. “Sure. But I dare you not to fall in love.”