Last Licks

It would have been a lot easier if she could have used both hands. But she had to be careful with her right, the one where Shadow had drawn blood. Sunny had carefully washed the gashes, spread on antiseptic ointment, and then covered them with gauze and some tape. They felt okay, but she had to be careful not to soak the pad in the water and start all over.

At last she held up the jacket, peering at the damp fabric for the stain. “Gone, I hope.” Sunny went back to get the pants and then brought them both to the basement for a gentle cycle through the washing machine.

“Decided to give these a wash,” Sunny told her dad, popping her head into the living room. “With this sticky weather, they need it.” Which was true, even if it wasn’t the full story.

She saw him looking at her bandage. “Little accident upstairs.” No sense giving Mike something else to complain about when it came to Shadow. She stayed downstairs while the suit was in the washer, and when she took the jacket out, the stain seemed completely gone. After running the suit through the dryer, Sunny breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t spot the spot at all. Putting jacket and pants on a plastic hanger, she started climbing the stairs from the basement. About halfway up, she realized a pair of eyes were watching her from the doorway to the kitchen.

“Shadow?” She almost whispered his name. He gave a brief, very quiet mew.

When she got up to the kitchen, he backed away from her, keeping his eyes on her face, almost as if he were afraid. “Oh, Shadow,” she said, “what happened?”

She hung the suit on one of the knobs for the kitchen cabinet. Shadow didn’t even glance at it. He only had eyes for her. The only thing dimming the moment was that his stomach suddenly rumbled.

“That’s right, you haven’t eaten.” Sunny replenished his water bowl and got a can of cat food. He watched her make the preparations but still wouldn’t come close.

“I hope I won’t regret this,” Sunny muttered, kneeling down beside the bowl and scooping up a bit of wet food on her left forefinger. Then she leaned toward him, extending the finger. Step by slow step he approached and delicately licked her finger clean.

“Now go eat the rest,” she told him gently, retreating to one of the kitchen chairs.

It was a slow process—Shadow spent more time glancing at her than he did concentrating on his food. But when he was finished, he got up and followed her out to the living room.

Mike was watching a mystery show, and Sunny settled on the floor, leaning back against a chair. They chatted for a little while, and Sunny asked if he would enlist Mrs. Martinson’s aid in getting the skinny on Alfred Scatterwell.

“I don’t see why not,” Mike said. “Helena may not have liked Gardner, but Alfred is a whole other kettle of fish to stick a spoon into.”

Right then, Shadow appeared beside her left thigh, pressing his furry body as close to it as he could.

Are you trying to say that you’re sorry, or are you just huddling for warmth?

As usual, Sunny’s wisecracking side had to have the last word—even if no one knew it but her.

But she gently reached down and petted her cat all the same.

*

The next morning, Sunny woke to find Shadow plastered against her under the covers—although that might have been due to the fact that she had her air-conditioning unit on. She gave Shadow a careful hug, then got up and went to the bathroom. Peeling off the gauze, she flexed her hand and frowned. It hurt a little, but the real problem was that she didn’t want anyone to know that Shadow had scratched her, and the healing slash marks were too easily identified.

Guess I’m going to be wearing gauze for a while. Sunny could only shrug.

She took a shower, put on a new bandage, and got dressed in lighter-weight clothes this time around.

When she got downstairs, she found a note from her dad, saying he’d set off for outlet-land to do his walk in air-conditioned comfort. He also warned her to take an umbrella, since the weather was supposed to break late in the afternoon, but there was a chance of showers. Sunny went to the phone, called Bridgewater Hall, and asked for Elsa Hogue. The occupational therapist said she’d be busy with clients, but agreed to meet with Sunny a little later in the morning.

Sunny had almost finished breakfast by the time Shadow came creeping in, the picture of subdued contrition.

“There you are.” Sunny had already cleaned and refilled his water bowl. Now she put some dry food in the other one. She knelt down to arrange the bowls, and Shadow came closer, his gold-flecked eyes seeming larger than usual as he gazed up at her.

“I can see you feel badly over what happened.” He made a little noise of distress and nudged her hurt hand. “What got into you?”

He licked her fingertips, something he’d never tried to do before.