Last Licks

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” Luke apologized, offering Ollie the tiny box of tissues beside the bed.

“Clean up on Bed Two,” Mike snickered.

Ollie glumly tried to rescue as many chips as he could, too crushed by the loss of his snack to comment.

Gardner picked up the control for his bed. “Once those crumbs get under you, they’ll drive you crazy,” he said. “I think we’d better buzz for Camille . . . and hope that she won’t mention it to Dr. Gavrik.”

Camille came back in, and after Ollie got cleaned up, the time passed pleasantly enough—a little business, a little conversation. Gardner told a tale from his travels, and Luke contributed a story from his life on the road. By the time she and her dad headed down the hallway to the guard’s desk, Sunny was in a pretty good mood again.

“Good evening, sir.” Rafe Warner smiled as Mike came up to sign out. “Hi, Sunny.”

“Evening,” Mike said, absentmindedly reaching for the pen. Then he jumped back when he realized there was a cat clinging to Rafe’s arm. “The place is crawling with them,” Mike muttered.

“And who is this?” Sunny asked as she came up. The cat seemed a little shy, so she didn’t make any overtures.

“This is Patrick,” Rafe explained. “He’s Portia’s brother. I’m afraid he’s been sick for a while, so he’s been sticking pretty close to me.”

Patrick was a handsome cat, with white patches on his black fur. Sunny had heard some people refer to the color scheme as a tux. “He’s getting better, I hope?”

Rafe nodded. “But slowly.”

Mike glanced dubiously at the cat as he signed himself out. “Nothing catching, is it?”

Rafe surprised them by answering, “Cancer. Poor Patrick had to go through chemotherapy.”

Now Mike gave Patrick a long, thoughtful look. “I’ve had friends who went through that. Guess all I can say is good luck, Patrick.”

“Thanks, sir.” Rafe gently petted Patrick as Sunny signed out.

“I hope he’ll be okay,” she said. Mike was already ahead of her, opening the big door.

When they were outside, Sunny grinned at her dad. “Still so eager to have Rafe as a son-in-law?” she teased. “Love him, love his cats.”

“Hmmph,” Mike said, considering that unpleasant prospect.

Sunny decided to push the subject. “And speaking of prospective sons-in-law, how about Luke? He’s more my age, and a very nice guy, even if he can’t open a bag of chips without disastrous results.” He even had a nice, dark tan—probably thanks to his Italian genes. No sunburn that Sunny could spot.

“A musician?”

From the tone of his voice, it might as well have been, “An ax-murderer?” Sunny thought.

“Why not?” she said, rubbing it in. “Isn’t that what you wanted to be, back when you were with the Cosmic Rays?”

“The Cosmic Blade,” Mike corrected. “And I quickly gave that up.”

“Mom loved music,” Sunny pointed out.

“And your mom knew how hard it was to make money from music,” Mike replied testily. “She was always giving lessons to pay for that piano we got.”

“Sorry, Dad.” Sunny took his arm, genuinely penitent for upsetting him. “I was just teasing.”

For a second, Mike looked at her and then shook his head. “You had me going for a little while.”

“So I guess I’m stuck with Will for the time being.” She put her head on Mike’s shoulder with a wicked grin. “Unless Gardner Scatterwell offers to make me a rich widow.”

“If he ever became my son-in-law, I guarantee you’d soon be a widow,” Mike said in his sternest voice, but he was grinning, too.

*

When Shadow arranged himself for his afternoon nap, he’d draped himself along the top of the sofa. That way he could keep a drowsy eye on all the comings and goings along the street. So, even before Sunny and her father parked, Shadow was at the doorway. The Old One, as usual, held no scents of interest. But Sunny . . . he worked his way around her ankles, inhaling deeply. The mysterious She had marked Sunny very thoroughly.

For a second, Shadow wondered if he should worry about that. He’d been in a lot of homes during his wandering days—before he’d found Sunny and decided to settle down. Sometimes, in those other places, when a new pet came in Shadow had found himself out on the street. Then he caught a whiff of that intoxicating fragrance again, and he stopped thinking at all.

Even when Sunny almost tripped over him, he couldn’t stay away. The scent kept drawing him. While she prepared food and even while she ate it, Shadow couldn’t keep himself from under her feet.

She actually scolded him, and the Old One rumbled at him, too.

But Shadow couldn’t stay away.

*

Sunny began to suspect there might be a problem when Shadow arranged himself across her feet under the dinner table and just lay there, breathing deeply and purring. She reached down to stroke his fur, but he didn’t even raise his head to be petted.

Of course, I never got my hands on Portia today. She concentrated on my ankles—and now, so is Shadow.