CHAPTER FIVE #2
Marmalade would have to accept being an indoor cat, because I don’t want him out in the world killing birds, getting into fights, and possibly contracting a disease.
“What do you think, Marmalade? Can you be an indoor cat?”
Marmalade is silent, still just staring at me adorably, offering no clue as to how he feels about the arrangement.
We have a sun porch filled with plants that gets tons of light, but outdoor cats generally like to remain outdoor cats.
And I don’t want to transition him gradually.
My house is too close to a busy main road for my comfort.
If it doesn’t work out, it will break Harper’s heart.
I stick Marmalade in the truck and check my phone. Just a message from Shaleigh to stop by the office when I get a chance. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if Mr. Herring called and complained about me.
I get into my truck and decide to take my lunch break super early since things are slow. I’ll get Marmalade set up with everything he needs at my house and go see Shaleigh.
It’s risky, but I’ve never seen a sweeter cat than Marmalade and, in my heart, he already feels like mine.
After a quick trip to the pet store and a call to the small animal vet in the next town over to set up an appointment for Marmalade to get checked out, I have to leave Marmalade alone at my house.
He stares up at me as I walk out and mews pitifully. “I’ll be home tonight,” I say. “But for right now, I need you to stay here because I have to work and Harper is at preschool. Can you be patient?”
Marmalade’s full-throated meow sounds like a definitive no, but I’ve left him with water and food and I have to get back to work. I don’t have a choice.
But I sure feel guilty as hell as I shut the door and walk away. Maybe this was a bad idea?
***
“That cat I got called about this morning?” I say as soon as I step into Shaleigh’s office.
She raises her brows.
“His owner has passed. I’m going to keep him.”
“Okay,” Shaleigh says, smiling. “Harper will be so excited.”
“I know. I can’t wait to see her reaction.” I’m practically vibrating with anticipation for the joyful reveal as I take a seat across from Shaleigh.
She looks down at her papers, straightens them, and looks back up at me, folding her hands over the papers.
My stomach sinks.
“I was entirely polite. He didn’t want a female officer, but I didn’t say any of the rude things I wanted to say.”
“He felt you were dismissive. That you barely spoke to him and took the animal away without any explanation.”
“He was embarrassed because he thought the cat was a lion cub, and he was wrong. I was not rude.”
Her severe expression cracks for just a moment before she sobers again.
“He sounds like a total jerk. I get how hard it was for you to keep your mouth shut, but the town’s attention is going to be on you, whether you get a promotion or a scholarship.
People are going to question why it was given to you if all anyone has heard about you are complaints. ”
I sink in my seat. “I can’t help it if people don’t like me. I can’t change who I am.”
“You are a kind, compassionate, sometimes even funny person when you let your guard down.”
My throat goes tight. “I’m not going to let my guard down around strangers. People can’t be trusted, especially around animals.”
Her lips quirk again. So glad she finds my distress humorous.
“Don’t glare at me, Amelia. I’m not asking you to let your guard down. I’m just saying, maybe try to be friendly. Smile more. You don’t have to take abuse, but you could have laughed with that man over how easy it was to mistake that cat for a lion cub.”
“It wasn’t.”
She nods. “And he was a man who made it crystal clear how he felt about women. How do you think he felt when you didn’t bring a lion cub back to him, when a woman witnessed him making that mistake?”
I really don’t want to put myself in that jerk’s place, but Shaleigh’s gone out on a lot of limbs for me. I owe her. “He probably felt like he’d been slapped down.”
She nods. “And he probably deserved it. But he was more than ready to interpret your not saying anything, because you were biting your tongue so hard against all you wanted to say, as you mocking him or acting superior.”
“I said things.”
She narrows her eyes.
“I’m not good at pretending things I don’t feel.”
“And that’s one of my favorite things about you. But if you want to have a job where you interact with the public, you need to work on being friendlier with them. Start small. Compliment one thing about the human or the property during your next interaction and see what happens.”
I drop my head into my hands and groan. “I’m never going to get that scholarship.”
“So you’ve decided to apply?” she asks, her voice full of hope.
I look up at her. “Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I need a job where I never talk to people.”
She shakes a finger at me. “Nope. You are not doing this. You will make an amazing veterinarian, and this town needs you. Once you have the job, you can be as grumpy with people as you want. Right now, you need to make an extra effort to be friendly. Charming, even. Just pretend you’re talking to someone you like. ”
“I don’t like that many people. You know that.”
She gets that narrow-eyed, pinched-mouth look that I know means she’s getting annoyed. “But you know a few. Pretend you’re dealing with one of them. Pretend you’re dealing with Harper.”
“Harper’s less sensitive than the people I deal with on a daily basis.”
She laughs. “She’s a tough kid. Now get out of here. We just got a call about a loose Jack Russell on Abernathy Road.”
“Aw, my favorite. You shouldn’t have.”
“I shouldn’t have, but I did. Plus, Jerry’s out on a call and you’re the only option.”
“Thanks, Shaleigh,” I say, all seriousness. “I really will try to be nicer. Even to the mean people.”
“Especially the mean people,” she says. “It annoys them when their mean doesn’t turn you mean. Trust me, I’ve been in those situations too many times to count, and I know just how hard it is to stay calm and smile like I mean it when I absolutely don’t.”
“Maybe you’re a better person than I am?
” I say, and I mean it. Most people are nice, but I can imagine the kind of people who aren’t and have a problem with a woman showing up as their animal control officer might have an even bigger problem with a Black woman showing up.
I want to go head-to-head with those people on her behalf.
“I’m sure I am,” she says with a teasing smile. “Just do what I do and focus on your goal. Think about how doing well in your job and getting a scholarship will piss off those hateful people.”
It sounds so easy when I’m sitting across from her, but I’m not at all sure I’ll be able to manage it in the field. “I’ll try.”
I head out with those words in mind and get through the rest of my day with shockingly few interactions with humans.
I pick Harper up from daycare, and it’s all I can do not to tell her about our new pet as she walks back to the car with me, her steps slow. She must have had a rough day herself, because she nods off in her car seat before we even get home.
Looks like it’ll be an early night for both of us.
She wakes when I pick her up, her small face scrunching in displeasure. “I know, sweetie,” I say. “I hate being woken up, too. But we’re home, and you need dinner.”
She wraps her arms around my neck, her soft cheek against my own, her warm scent one of my favorite smells in the world. I leave our bags in the car and head for the house.
I open the door slowly, prepared for Marmalade to make a run for it, but there’s no furry orange nose pushing at the opening and meowing for freedom.
Harper shifts in my arms, ready to get down and run into the house to visit her stuffies, like she does every day when I bring her home. “Let’s get inside first, honey.”
I swing the door fully open, and a flash of orange races past my feet.
“Shit,” I say as Harper wiggles out of my arms and slides down to stand and stare up at me with wide eyes and mouth.
If Harper were older or another adult were here, I’d race off after Marmalade, but there’s no way the two of us are catching that cat. We’re just going to have to hope we can find him at our own pace. And that means explaining things to Harper. “I’m sorry, baby,” I say. “Never repeat that word.”
“Grandma says only trash people say bad words. Are you a trash people?” It’s clear from her tone and the mischief in her eyes what she’s hoping for.
“People who say bad words are not trash or trashy people. But we shouldn’t say those words, and I was wrong to say it. Right now, I need your help to find the cat who just ran out of here.”
Harper’s brows crease together. “Where’s the cat?”
She spins, looking for the cat, and it’s then I notice the absolute chaos and destruction Marmalade has wrought on our living room.
Tissues have been taken out of the box, shredded, and strewn everywhere.
All the cushions from the couch are now on the floor, and everything that was on a flat surface is now also on the floor.
Luckily, I don’t own much that’s breakable because of Harper.
“The cat made a mess?” Harper asks. “Where is the cat?”
I grab her before she can run off to look for it and kneel in front of her.
If we can’t find that cat, it’s going to break her heart, but I don’t know what to do other than to tell her the truth.
“His name is Marmalade, and he’s a big orange cat.
He ran outside when we came in. Want to go with me to look for him? ”
Because she’s my kid, she tilts her head to the side and gives me a suspicious look. “You don’t bring animals home. You said that’s bad prodecure.”
“Procedure,” I say. “You’re right. But this cat has nowhere else to go. And I’m worried about him out there all alone. Will you help me?”
That gets her attention. “We need to help him.” She pushes back her shoulders and lifts a pudgy hand to shove away the blond curls falling into her face. “Let’s go,” she says.
I stand and take her hand. Together, we step back out into the chilly November evening.
There’s an orange cat sitting on our front stoop. We don’t have a porch. We have a stoop, which is a concrete block with concrete stairs. And Marmalade is sitting on the edge of that stoop, calmly cleaning himself like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
As soon as we step fully onto that concrete block, he zips past us back into the house through the door Harper left wide open.
“Quick,” I say. “Let’s get inside before he changes his mind.”
Harper stares into the house, looking for the cat, and comes inside readily when I give her a little tug.
I shut and lock the door behind us and there’s Marmalade, sitting on the couch, head high, like he’s the king of his domain and not a cat who took one look outside, realized he has no idea where he is, and got scared.
This is a very good sign that he won’t give me too much trouble about being an indoor cat.
Harper runs over and pets Marmalade gently, like she’s learned how to do with frequent visits to the Weston Farm and to the homes of friends with pets.
Marmalade purrs and bumps against her small hand, and she giggles in delight.
“What do you think, sweetie?” I ask. “Should we keep him?”
She spins to me with wide eyes. “Yes,” she says. “I want him.”
“Okay. Help me clean up this mess, and we can keep him.”
Her smile is wide enough and bright enough to make angels sing. “Yay,” she cheers as she does her butt-shaking, arm waving happy dance. Then, she turns to Marmalade, gives him a little hug and a kiss on the top of his head. “You’re ours now,” she says before she comes over and helps me clean up.
Okay, she stops every three seconds to pet Marmalade, and I end up doing most of the work, but she can’t stop smiling and neither can I.
I text Ellery after Harper is in bed, fast asleep, Marmalade curled up next to her feet.
Me: Apparently, just not being rude isn’t good enough. I need to be charming. I’m not charming, El.
Ellery: Sure you are. You just need more fun in your life. If you’re thinking about all the fun you’re having, you won’t care what stupid things the humans are saying.
Normally, I’d scoff at that, but chatting with Handsyguy37 really did seem to help.
Me: What kind of fun?
Ellery: The kind of fun that ends with both of you naked in a bed, or against a wall, or…
Me: I get the idea. Not sure I’m ready for that.
Ellery: I’ll keep noodling on it. I’ll come up with some fun.
I plop onto the couch with the remote, planning to watch some mindless television, but I pick up my phone and message Handsyguy37 instead.