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Her mother had insisted on wearing a pale violet dress with wooden buttons down the front to the appointment.
“It’s a sign of respect” Dede had explained when Alanna had pointed out that her mother would just be taking her clothes off anyway. That respect had come at a high cost. Alanna had watched in increasing silent agony as her mother struggled with the buttons. Dede’s fingers had been stiff, clumsy, and weak. They’d seemed nearly incapable of bending.
That’d been the moment Alanna finally understood the true depth of her mother’s condition and how much dignity it had stripped from her. Unable to watch her mother battle alone any longer, Alanna had taken over, unbuttoning the dress and unhooking her mother’s bra. She’d folded all those nice, “respectful” clothes into a neat pile before helping her mother into a drab gown.
A flicker of movement caught Alanna’s eye.
Petunia?
Her gaze snapped to the front yard of an idyllic yellow house, and she watched a squirrel scamper up a tree and disappear into thick green foliage.
Definitely not Petunia.
Cortisone shots. That’s what the friendly physician, Dr. Mendoza, had suggested after a round of x-rays and a blood draw. The powerful steroids would be injected directly into her mother’s finger joints to lower inflammation and pain.
“The goal is to try to avoid surgery for as long as possible,” Dr. Mendoza had said.For as long as possible—meaning it was already a foregone conclusion. Joint fusions. Joint replacements.
Alanna shuddered as she crossed the street and noticed a poster of Petunia taped to a telephone pole. Sure, the cat was in the middle of hissing at the camera, but the feline’s expression of contempt felt so true to the cat’s character that Alanna caught herself smiling softly at the image.
Focus on the next action item,she told herself.That would be the cortisone shots, which they’d scheduled with Dr. Mendoza for next week. Alanna had always been a pro at filtering chaos into clear, concise action items. But how was she supposed to create a project plan for a body breaking down? How could she protect her mother from the ravages of a hard-lived life?
Was this what drowning felt like?
“Alanna.”
She looked up to see Tess coming her way. The smaller woman walked surprisingly quickly on her short legs. She stopped in front of Alanna and swiped a strand of hair out of her eyes.
“Anything?” Alanna asked, a note of hope in her voice.
The Crazy Cat Ladies had returned to assist in the search for a second day… all of them. Tess shook her head as Willow approached from another side street. The younger woman took small, careful steps, her head always turning, eyes sweeping up and down as if she expected a surprise bear attack at any moment. She stopped, bent, and carefully lifted a small twig from the sidewalk.
What… in… the…
Willow seemed to notice the two women staring at her. She ducked her head behind a curtain of hair as her cheeks pinked.
“Someone could trip,” she said, her voice as soft as the wind.
“Any luck?” Alanna asked her.
“Twenty-six birds, nine lizards, seven dogs, two cats in windows, and one pig, but no Petunia,” Willow reported as she joined their small group.
Alanna forced down a swell of disappointment. Petunia was so stubborn that of course she’d refuse to be found. She was probably hiding under some neighbor’s porch, exultant at all the effort spent on her search.
No. Alanna knew the truth. The cat was gone. She glanced at the setting sun. “Why don’t you two head home. It’ll be dark soon.”
“Are you sure?” Tess’s large hazel eyes were filled with sympathy. “I could put some flyers up in my neighborhood.”
Alanna shook her head. She felt so tired. “You live miles away, Tess. Petunia couldn’t have gotten that far.”
“You sure?”
“Don’t bother.”
Alanna collected the extra flyers, and the two women said their goodbyes. Everly had left a few hours earlier for her shift at work and Layla had bowed out an hour ago to volunteer at the Yucca Hills Animal Rescue. As the shadows lengthened, Alanna made her way back to her mother’s house. Tomorrow, she’d go out again. And then what? How long did one look for a lost cat that had probably been gobbled up by coyotes?
Likewise, how long could she stave off confronting the shattered ruins of her life?Damn, and she still needed to apologize to Sully. His face kept floating into her mind. She couldn’t forget the disappointed expression he’d worn as he’d left the house after her volcanic bitchitude eruption.
Shoving images of the handsome handyman out of her thoughts, she dragged herself up the driveway of her mother’s house. Without quite knowing why, she stopped on the porch, turned around, and surveyed the neighborhood.
