Shirley Rousseau Murphy by Cat Bearing Gifts

Author:Cat Bearing Gifts [Gifts, Cat Bearing]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2012-11-30T22:00:00+00:00

19

MISTO, HAVING WATCHED the four EMTs load Birely into the ambulance and head away for the hospital, sat now on Emmylou’s porch, alone, pondering again Birely’s presence there in the village, Birely whose grown-up photograph in Emmylou’s house was neatly inscribed along the bottom with his name and Sammie’s and the date the picture was taken, just a few years ago. Once when he’d hopped up on the dresser for yet another look, Emmylou had laughed at him. “You’re an art critic now? I took that picture myself, with my old box camera, took it right out on the highway by the market where Sammie and I used to work. Took it one time Birely showed up, the way he did without ever letting her know, stopped off at the village from wherever he’d been wandering.”

Misto had already died by the time Birely was born, the family already out in California, he was dead but he’d never left Sammie’s side. Call him a ghost cat or whatever one liked, he’d stayed near her as they headed for the West Coast, stayed nearby through all that happened to her and to Lee Fontana, moving effortlessly in and out of their lives. Seeking to protect them, to face off whatever would harm the old man or the child. He’d been protective of Sammie’s little brother, too, when Birely came along, and now in this different life he still felt protective of that little boy grown up and grown older. Birely was still irresponsible and maybe often useless in his ways but he was still Sammie’s brother, lying alone in that cold stone house injured and hurting until Emmylou had discovered him and saw that he was cared for. When she’d left for the hospital behind the EMTs, Misto had paused at the edge of her yard, undecided whether to follow.

It was a long journey up to the hospital through tangled woods, down through a deep ravine, and across the busy freeway. Even if he could avoid the coyotes and occasional loose dogs, and dodge the fast cars, even if his aging bones didn’t give out, it wasn’t likely he could slip inside unseen through those bright halls, among so many people, and find Birely’s room. Even if he got that far, how could he help Birely? He was only mortal, now. What could he do to help? He’d been more effective as a ghost without the limitations of a mortal body—and without the aches and pains. When he was spirit alone, he could appear suddenly wherever and whenever he chose, and more often than not he could subtly influence others with his whispers, just as he’d prodded tough old Lee Fontana.

He knew he’d had an effect on Lee’s life, that he had hazed Lee away from some of the more shameful moves he’d considered. Even that last big robbery, when Lee held his forty-five to the head of the cowering postal clerk, Lee hadn’t hurt the man. How much of that was

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