To Lindsay’s relief and delight, no
one claimedthe little fellow, and so their first unexpected addition was added
to the house. He was smart, funny and adorable. Lindsay named him Sootyfoot,
Sooty for short.
One night they were sitting listening to music, and Lindsay
commented, "You know, I’ve just been thinking. When you’re home, Sooty
spends most of his time sleeping on a hearth rug, but when you leave in the
morning, he gets up and is seldom more than two steps behind me all day, no
matter what I’m doing."
"Sounds like he’s guarding you," he laughed.
As was usual, when they went to bed that night, Sooty settled
in right beside Lindsay. This night, however, they were startled awake by an
unearthly yowl near their closed bedroom door. The light showed the little
animal, back arched and every hair on end.
Connor got a gun and flashlight from the drawer, and started
to open the door. Lindsay started to get up, but he shook his head adamantly,
signaling for her to stay put. He and Sooty cautiously explored the house, but
there was no sign of an intruder, and they went back upstairs.
Lindsay was kneeling in the middle of the bed, her head on
her knees, when he reentered the room.
"Honey, what--"
Before he could finish the sentence, she shot off the bed and
streaked for the bathroom. He could hear her being sick, and he hurried in and
fell to his knees beside her. He held her until the spasms passed, then brought
her some water and gently washed her face.
"What happened, honey?"
Between heaves, gasps, and shivers, she was unable to talk,
so he just held her, rubbing her back and becoming more frightened by the
minute. Her heaves became uncontrollable sobs, and she just buried her face in
his shoulder and held him as tightly as she could. He tightened his hold, too.
"I’m here, baby; I’m here," he soothed.
At last she was a little calmer. "It--all goes back to
that day in Nevada, when we found each other again. One--minute you’re there,
with me, and the next you’re unconscious. On that helicopter ride into the
city, I convinced myself that somehow they would find you and take you away from
me again, and I--I went completely crazy when we landed. I wouldn’t let them
near you, and I wouldn’t leave you. I was convinced if I left I would never
see you again.
"But they dragged me away, and locked me in a room, and
I wanted to get back to you, but I couldn't, because they gave me something that
almost paralyzed me. I was desperate to move, and couldn't," and she began
crying again. "I felt so helpless!"
Connor made a strange noise in his throat. "I wish I had
that doctor, and I use the term loosely, for just five minutes."
She looked up at him, eyes filled with pain. "Just now,
when you--wouldn’t let me go with you, and--shut the door behind you, all of a
sudden I was back in that room, terrified and helpless-- and paralyzed."
She wiped her face with her hand. "I was so--afraid you’d--never come
back up those stairs! Please–please! Don’t ever leave me like
that again!"
"It’s all right, honey," he whispered, holding
her close. "It's all right. Come on. Let’s get you back into bed. You’re
freezing!"
They got to their feet and he picked her up in his arms.
"Do you need a doctor? Is the baby all right?"
"He’s fine; we’re both fine. I just need you to hold
me," and her voice began to break again.
"Not a problem."
They held each other the rest of the night, with the kitten
nestled tight in the small of her back.
They awoke almost simultaneously the next morning, and made
slow and gentle love.
"I am so sorry about last night, darling. Falling
apart like that," she whispered. "I don't know what came over me. I'm
not like that!"
He smiled at her. "Don’t worry about it; you weren’t
to blame. I’ve been thinking about it, and I think what you had was a raging
case of PTSD, plus maybe a wee stray hormone or two."
"Ah! A chauvinist," she laughed. "Post
Traumatic Stress Disorder?"
"Um-hm. Think about it, honey. What you went through for
those hours, plus worrying about me, wanting to protect me, and being unable
to."
"Makes sense."
"But now you don’t have to protect me. And at the risk
of being called a chauvinist again"--and they both laughed--"it’s my
job to take care of you."
"No, Connor! It’s our job to take care
of each other! We’re partners in everything else, why not this?"
He was quiet for several minutes. "I don’t know how to
answer that. I guess it’s something we’ll have to work on." He kissed
her with both passion and gentleness. "Come on. Let’s go get some
breakfast."
And so they went down the stairs, their arms around each
other’s waists, the little cat leading the way.
hhh
"By the way, honey," Connor asked as they were
finishing breakfast a few weeks later, "Did Mrs. Texler ever get back to
you on the history of the house?"
"No, and I had forgotten about it. I think I’ll call
her this morning."
He put his dishes on the counter, then picked up his things,
as the cat got to his feet. "Guard her well, Sooty," he said, as he
kissed Lindsay good-bye.
Lindsay finished cleaning up the breakfast things, then went
into the great room to call Mrs. Texler. All she got was the answering machine.
She left a message, then picked up the cat.
"Well, Sooty, what do we do now?" she asked,
caressing his silky ears.
He looked up at her and peeped, then reached up to touch her
cheek with his paw.
All of a sudden she had a thought. "The Internet, Sooty!
We’ve forgotten the Internet!" She went up to their bedroom where
the computer was, and on the bed was another rose!
When Connor got home that night, Lindsay was beside herself
with excitement.
"I found it, Connor! I found it!"
"Whoa, slow down! Found what? The Lost Cord? Judge
Crater in our basement?" he laughed.
"Oh, you are so funny, aren’t you?" She
waved the paper in her hand. "I found the story of the house! Oh, and it’s
so sad!"
"You did? Where?"
"On the Internet."
"Let me see it!"
He settled himself in one of the comfortable chairs, with
Lindsay on the love seat, and read:
THE HOUSE OF LOST LOVE
"High in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, there
sets a small stone English cottage, built for a love that never saw it, by a
man that never lived in it.
Abra McGee came from England in 1722 to make his fortune,
leaving behind his new bride. Having succeeded in his goal, he then had the
cottage disassembled piece by piece and shipped to New Hampshire. It is said
he laid every stone and board himself, and even carved some chairs in his
own unique design. When all was ready, he sent for her.
But such was not to be. On the trip over, the ship she
was on sank. Never able to accept the loss, Abra McGee swore he would never
stop waiting for 'she who would one day come.' Until the end of his life,
Abra would always wait for 'his beautiful Rose McGee.'"
Slowly Connor laid the paper aside, and just as slowly raised
his eyes to Lindsay’s. "Never did I think it was something like that. It is
sad."
"I think he feels every young woman in this house is his
Rose."
Connor nodded.
"Are you ready for dinner?" she asked softly.
He shook his head. "Can dinner keep?"
"It can."
He held out his hand and she stood up. "All of a sudden,
I have this great need to be with you."
She smiled as they started up the stairs. "There was
another rose today."
"Of course."
hhh
It was much later that he said, "Sometimes I think of the odds of us
finding each other again. We could very easily have--"
She rolled over to face him and laid her fingers on his lips. "We were
meant to be. I feel that so strongly."
"I do, too. And I can’t imagine what it would be like without you. It
makes my blood run cold!"
"Been there, done that. Connor, its so empty you can hear your breath
echo."
"Interesting imagery."
"It’s cold, it’s dark, and all you feel is emptiness."
They held each other extra tight, and were beginning to drift off to sleep,
when "Wham!" the baby kicked Connor hard in the stomach, knocking the
wind out of him and very nearly throwing him out of bed.
It took Lindsay a few seconds to figure out what had happened, and when she
did she rolled over on her side, helpless with laughter. "Y-you should be
on this side of it about a dozen times a day." She gasped.
"Does he always kick like that?" His stomach was sore and he was
still a little breathless.
"N-no. That was an extra special effort," and she went off
on another gale of laughter.
They were both on their left sides now, and he put his hand on her abdomen,
making small, circular motions.
"Go to sleep, baby. Your mother needs her rest," he whispered.
Lindsay smiled and laid her head back into his shoulder, and soon they were
all asleep.
It was happening again. Sooty stood at the bedroom door,
yowling and hissing. Connor jumped from bed and again prepared to go downstairs.
He looked up at Lindsay, and after a moment’s indecision, held out his hand.
"All right, come. But stay behind me!"
She nodded and together they went downstairs.
This time the cat didn’t hesitate at all, but headed
straight for the kitchen. They could see a faint, lighter line around the back
door.
All at once something erupted from the corner by the
fireplace and headed for the door. Connor was quick, but Sooty was quicker. He
caught the intruder with claws and fangs before he was kicked off and sent
rolling. Connor and Lindsay chased the intruder outside, but lost him.
While Connor called the police, Lindsay checked the cat.
"Is he all right?"
She nodded.
"Good. Then unless every house in this town has a Ninja
cat, this time we should be able to catch him."
Lindsay held him up and looked in his face. "Maybe we
should change your name to ‘Ninja,’" she laughed. Then: "Good
baby," she whispered, and kissed him.
True to Connor’s prediction, they did catch a young
juvenile who had broken in looking for valuables.