Beauty & the Beasts (12 page)

A reluctant grin lightened his expression. “I seem to remember a few battles.”

“Only a few?”

“Okay. More than that.” Eric shook his head, still smiling. “I played in a rock band briefly. We practiced in the garage. We were terrible. I bitterly resented being told so. My dad’s bellows to ‘turn the goddamn amplifiers down’ humiliated me.”

“But did he quit bellowing?” she asked gently.

“Nah—” Eric broke off. His eyes narrowed. “What are you—a psychologist in your off-hours?”

Reassured, she let go of his hand and reached for her sandwich. “Nope. Just figured a trip down memory lane might not be a bad idea.”

“Well, I get your point.” He picked up his spoon. “Which still leaves me wondering what the hell I’m going to do with him all summer.”

“Do you camp or…” She leveled a look at him. “You don’t hunt, do you?”

“Yeah, that’s me. I shoot ’em down, then patch ’em up. What do you think?”

“Just asking,” she said with dignity. “Take your
son horseback riding. Sailing. Swimming. Whatever.”

He grunted. “I work, remember?”

“Can’t you take a few days off here and there?”

His mouth tightened. “Maybe.”

“Would he and Mark—”

“Last summer, they were friends,” Eric interrupted. “This time Garth has decided they have nothing in common.”

Was he really asking for her help? Tentatively Madeline said, “I could take him to the shelter. If he likes animals, that is.”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Yeah, he used to love spending days with me at the hospital, helping me out on farm calls. Circe, one of my cats, is sleeping with him nights, I noticed. He must be inviting her in.”

“Well, then?”

“It’s worth a try, if you mean it.”

She smiled more confidently than she felt. “I mean it. We can always use help. The cats never get enough attention, even if he wants to stay away from the dirty work.”

Eric grimaced, the creases in his cheeks emphasized. “Maybe you’d better ask him. I’m afraid anything I suggest he’ll refuse on general principle.”

“Sure,” she said, nervousness fluttering in her stomach. What did
she
know about teenagers? Especially defiant male teenagers? But how could she back out now? Still trying for the blithe “I know what I’m doing” tone, she suggested, “Why don’t I
come over for a riding lesson this evening and you introduce us?”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his gaze holding hers. “I owe you one.”

T
HIS SUMMER’S GIRLFRIEND
was a fox, even if she was almost as old as Mom. She didn’t have very big breasts—Dad’s girlfriends usually did. But otherwise this one had legs like Julia Roberts’s and really pretty thick hair and a neck that was sort of…swanlike. Long and slim and smooth and…Flushing, Garth jerked his gaze away, made uneasy by his descent into poetic images.

In this velvety voice she said, “Your dad talks about you often. It’s nice to meet you.”

He mumbled something, and even
he
didn’t know what. She was too pretty. He didn’t know what to say to someone like that.

“Do you ride?” she asked.

What was her name? Madeline. He remembered that part He stole a glance at her sparkling greenybrown eyes. “Yeah. I mean, I do summers when I’m here. Not at home.”

“Well, you’re, ahead of me.” She wrinkled her nose. “I just started a couple of weeks ago. I’ve ridden Honey, um, five times. Today is six.”

“She never shies.”

“Your dad is trying to talk me into going on a trail ride someday. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

This time he looked at his father, who was watching him, not Madeline.
Be nice,
his dad’s eyes
warned. Like he needed telling. She was talking to him as if he was a human being. Even if it
was
what Dad wanted, he was going to be polite back.

“Honey would never hurt you,” Garth said. “Dad and I can borrow horses so you can have her. His partner’s family owns a whole bunch.”

“So I hear.” She turned to Honey, already saddled and bridled. “Well, here goes nothing.”

Dad boosted her into the saddle as if she hardly weighed anything. She was actually kind of skinny, but in a good way. Garth couldn’t think of a single girl at his school with a bod like hers.

He stayed beside his father, leaning against the fence and watching her take a few turns around the pasture. He hadn’t been on horseback yet; his father didn’t want him to ride when he was home alone— as if Honey would throw him or something, but that was a parent for you. And
he
hadn’t wanted to come out when Dad suggested it. He wasn’t about to surrender and do father-son stuff, not when he knew Dad didn’t really want him here any more than Mom wanted him at home.

The thought of his mother pierced deep, and he pulled away from it. As if to distract him, Madeline cantered up on Honey just then, her cheeks pink and her eyes more sparkly than ever.

“Your turn,” she told Garth, and slid off before he could say no.

So he did ridé, a couple of times around the pasture. Once, he really let Honey out, until the wind brought tears to his eyes and the saddle creaked and the mare grunted with the effort. She slid to a spectacular
stop in front of Dad and Madeline, who made a face and said, “I would have gone sailing over her head if I’d tried that.”

“Honey was trained as a cow horse,” Dad said. “You can rope on her or pen. At least you could if you knew what you were doing.”

“It looks like Garth does.” She smiled admiringly at him. Hopping off the fence, she came to Honey’s side. She stroked the mare’s neck, still looking up at him. “Did your dad tell you about the cat shelter where I volunteer?”

“He said something about it.”

“Any chance you’d like to help out? The cats there love attention, and we just don’t have time to give it.” The skin on the bridge of her nose crinkled a little as her smile deepened. It made her look cute and young. She lowered her voice. “I figured you might get bored this summer.”

Garth’s hand jerked on the reins, and Honey danced. Madeline had to back up. “Did Dad tell you to ask me?” he demanded fiercely.

Her eyes met his, her expression open. “It was my idea. I did discuss it with him, though. He said it was okay if I asked you.”

Dad was too close to pretend he didn’t hear, but although a muscle jumped in his cheek, he didn’t say anything.

“Would I be going just when he was there?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “No, your father has to work tomorrow even though it’s Saturday. I figured I’d pick you up around twelve-thirty. I’ll help clean and medicate for a couple of hours, and you
can wander around and check the place out. What d’you say?”

Garth thought about it. But not for long. What did he have to lose? Another day of thrills and chills hanging around the house all by himself?

“Sure,” he said, shrugging awkwardly. “Why not?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

M
ADELINE STOOD
in the opening of the sliding glass door, watching Eric’s son. He sat cross-legged in the grass, where he’d been for some time. Hand outstretched, almost touching a crouched black cat—his arm must ache, he’d had it out so long—he murmured in a singsong voice words she couldn’t make out. His patience and the magic in whatever he was saying were being rewarded. Smudge, who hadn’t let anyone touch him since he’d come to the shelter, was inching toward the boy. His rust-colored eyes looked mesmerized, but his sleek black body was coiled tight. Any unexpected noise or movement would send him fleeing.

She waited; Garth continued murmuring. And the amazing happened: Smudge slid forward enough for Garth’s fingers to gently stroke his head. The cat quivered, then tilted his chin up for those fingers to reach his jaw and throat. Finally, wonder of wonders, he rubbed the length of his body against that hand, and Garth ruffled the black fur, his hand traveling down Smudge’s spine over and over, until even from fifteen feet away Madeline could hear the purr.

Another cat jumped down from a wooden climber. It was Big Yellow, a bully, and now he growled low
in his throat. Smudge started, froze for an instant and then flowed away. Garth slowly let his arm drop.

Madeline clapped. “Bravo!”

His head whipped around and, looking disconcerted, he said, “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I didn’t dare move.” She smiled. “That was Smudge. He’s never let anyone here touch him, not since we turned him loose after he got neutered and vaccinated.”

Flushing, Garth said, “Well, probably no one’s had the time. I mean, I’ve been sitting here for a while.”

“I know.” She sat, too, on a lawn chair just outside the sliding door. Ajax, a snow white elderly cat, jumped onto her lap. Idly stroking him, Madeline continued, “But you seem to have a way with these guys.” She laughed, because one was butting his head against Garth’s back and another had scrambled onto his legs. “If you come a few more times, you’ll have to beat ’em off with a stick.”

“I wouldn’t mind coming again,” Garth mumbled. “It’s not like I have anything else to do this summer.”

She took that for the face-saving excuse she knew it to be; Ten Lives had had other young volunteers, many of whom lost interest quickly. She’d been scrubbing litter boxes and floors for two straight hours, and not once had Garth looked bored or asked when they were leaving. In fact, she’d seen him only when she glanced out the window.

She couldn’t blame him for doing his visiting out here; the day was sunny and cloudless without being
hot, late June weather at its best. The grass had recently been cut and raked, and even more cats than usual were outside. Some were sprawling in the grass or napping on the homemade climbers that substituted for trees.

After a long sleepy pause, Madeline asked, “Have you been to the kitten room yet?”

He looked up eagerly. “No, I didn’t know there was one.”

“I’ll show you.” But she was too content to leap immediately to her feet.

Garth seemed to feel the same. He shifted to accommodate another cat that slid under his arm and leaned against his knee. Today, she thought, he looked younger than he had the other day, more the boy he really was than the teenager he tried to be. From this side she couldn’t see the earring, and the sunlight transformed the fuzz of pale blond hair growing in on his bare skull into a shimmering halo. He looked a good deal like his father the same narrow intelligent face with sharp cheekbones, the same lanky grace, although less controlled in the boy. His eyes were bright blue, instead of his father’s gray-green, but when Garth quit sulking those blue eyes took in everything he saw, processed it, focused on any anomaly as penetratingly as Eric’s did. His gaze could be just as unnerving.

Startled at her choice of. words, Madeline grimaced. And here she liked to think she’d become completely relaxed around his father.

“Well,” she said, letting out a long breath, “shall we?”

The house had four bedrooms, one of which was home to the kittens. Most of the year a couple of huge cages held the litters of younger ones, along with their mothers. Older kittens awaiting placement ran loose in the room. Cushy carpeted hammocks were slung from the windowsills; a bunk bed made a great climber, as well as offering the high perch they loved.

“Cool,” Garth breathed the instant she opened the door and he saw two of the older kittens tumbling on the floor in mock battle.

Within minutes he was waving the long wand with feathers attached to the end. Wizard and October raced after it, leaping and growling and snatching it in their teeth when they were quicker than Garth’s hand.

Madeline quietly withdrew and left him. In the front office she returned phone calls for half an hour or so, then chatted with Joan, finally returning to the kitten room. Garth had one of the cage doors open and was trying to coax the two little black-and-white guys in the corner to come to him.

“That’s Chev and Ron,” Madeline said softly. “They were found under a Dumpster at a Chevron station. We called them the Chevron Kids, and somehow that evolved. They’re petrified. We really need a foster home for them, somewhere they can get tons of attention for a few weeks. At their age, they ought to come around. If they can just learn to trust people, we could find them a home.”

She felt a little guilty. She ought to have talked to Eric before even hinting that Garth take on any
project like this. But he was so perfect for it! The idea had come to her when she saw him petting Smudge. Garth had the patience and kindness needed to reassure scared cats and tame the semiferal. Best of all, he had time, something most adult volunteers lacked.

And from what Eric had said and what she’d seen of Garth today, she thought he needed a purpose. Maybe two kittens who desperately needed
him
would be just the ticket. She couldn’t imagine that Eric would object.

Well, in for a penny, she decided, and took a deep breath. “I don’t suppose…” she began.

At that precise same moment Garth said, “Do you think I…?”

They looked at each other and laughed. “Yes,” Madeline said, “I do think you could.
If
it’s okay with your dad. You’ll have to consult him first.”

Garth’s shoulders hunched, and in an instant he was the sullen teenager again. “He doesn’t trust me to do anything. He’ll say no.”

“I doubt it.” She touched his arm. “He loves animals. I think he’ll be pleased you do, too.”

Easily read emotions chased across his face: hurt pride, anger, longing, stubbornness. Finally he shrugged. “Yeah, okay. I guess I’ll ask him. What can it hurt?”

“Right.” Turning, she reached into the cage to pet Ron, the slightly braver of the two kittens. Chev cringed away, tiny white teeth showing as he hissed. She had to be honest. “The one thing that does hurt is when you take these guys home and teach them to love you and then you have to say goodbye.”

Frowning thoughtfully, Garth looked even more like his father. “You’ve done it before?”

“Lots of times.” Her smile was crooked. “I still cry every time.”

“But are you really sad?”

“No. At least, only partly. I know I can’t keep them all. What I’m doing is teaching them how to love and then finding them someone they can love for the rest of their lives. If I hadn’t been willing to do that and to cry a little, they’d never have had a chance. So it’s worth every tear. Getting to know them and seeing them get braver and then that moment when you know they trust you…there’s nothing like it.” Memories flooded her, green eyes and rust eyes, long white whiskers and stubby gray ones, the pointed furry faces of a dozen particularly beloved cats and kittens who had passed briefly through her life before she handed them on. For a second her eyes welled with tears. She picked up Chev, who curled into a small ball, and handed him to Garth. “Someday, he’ll purr just because you come into the room, and you’ll know he’s ready.”