Lost & Found - Jacqueline Sheehan [14]
“You mean Tess? Good God, they don’t come more solid than her, once you get to know her. She’s been out here for years, since she retired. Or she’s mostly retired. If she tells you that a cat has been abandoned, then that’s the truth.”
Isaiah told her the best way to get the cat. “Start with the Havahart trap. Save the snare as back up. Cats are not as easy as dogs.”
The snare was an ugly contraption that frightened her. She was afraid that if she started using it, she might get too comfortable with it, and start to act like a prison guard gone bad, the kind who starts out good but who ultimately gives in to the uniform. She couldn’t quite stomach the idea of snaring a cat.
Rocky thought it was best to wait until early morning. She didn’t want to keep the cat overnight. If she caught it early, she’d still have time to get it over to Portland to the pound. As she lay in bed with her newly found cat purring on the dresser, she considered her options. She would generously bait the trap with wet cat food and hope for the best.
The next morning she pulled up to the house, several miles north of the dock. She hoped the cat wasn’t peeking from the bushes so she could set the trap unobserved. She pulled the tab on the can and the rich smell of fish byproducts reached her nose. She hoped that this wouldn’t draw every cat in the neighborhood. A black Saab pulled up as Rocky finished her job. Tess stepped out of the car.
“Let’s go for a walk while the cat meets its destiny. I’ll show you some of my favorites spots along the shore.”
They walked on the dirt road that ran along the north coast, both of them slapped by the wind, and then they headed for the beach. It was surprisingly easy for Rocky and Tess to fall in step with each other. When they returned several hours later, a tattered cat sat howling in the trap.
“There’s your first customer,” said Tess.
Rocky delivered the cat to the Portland animal shelter right in the trap, not wanting to tangle with the very sick looking creature. Tess went along for the ride because she said she needed to buy some fish at the docks.
Tess was about thirty years older than Rocky, a trim woman whose movements were swift and light, as unattached to earth as a bird. They agreed to meet for walks; Tess claimed to know every trail and Rocky felt less of the bottomless pull when she was walking. Tess reminded Rocky of the image of a wood sprite, a nymph who blended in easily among a pine needle forest floor or the firm grasses that grew on sand. “I’m no wood nymph,” said Tess. “I’m just a retired physical therapist. There’s a difference.”
Tess had painted a Buddha on her blue bathroom door, and had a Christmas tree of dried deciduous branches festooned with seashells and dried seaweed, which stayed up twelve months of the year. “Well this certainly looks more like the house of a wood sprite than a former physical therapist,” said Rocky.
Rocky was surprised that Tess so suddenly entered her life. They walked several times a week and before long, she had accompanied Tess on her job of house-sitting for the summer people. The people who didn’t want the hassle of draining their pipes for the winter hired Tess. Tess made periodic checks during the winter, wandering through their houses, opening doors, letting in fresh air, and checking for invasions of mice and chipmunks.
“Come with me, we have to freshen up one of the houses, blow out the ghosts who think they can take over. We’ll save the big house for last. They have a hot tub big enough for a football team,” said Tess after they had hiked on one of the inner trails for the morning.
Tess brought her favorite CDs and urged Rocky to dance with her. Rocky awkwardly declined, surprised that movement was so natural to Tess and so alien to her. Tess flitted through the house, running with an assortment of scarves flying with reggae music, chasing out the idle spirits that she swore invaded opportunistically. She had turned on the hot tub in the master bedroom and when she was done shooing unseen things away, they both dropped