Part 1 (2/2)

In the meantime I unpacked my single suitcase in the master bedroom, changed the sheets, and slid into warm flannel pajamas. Adding groceries to my list, I made a cup of cocoa from the stash I had brought with me and carried it to the living room to enjoy my first night of independence, freedom, and solitude.

So why couldn't I shake the feeling I wasn't alone?

The next morning I blinked my eyes open to a dark and gloomy day. Snow fell in heavy flakes outside my bedroom window, and the house was freezing again. The fire must have burned out overnight, and obviously the furnace still wasn't on. Burrowing deeper beneath my down blankets, a s.h.i.+ver raced up my spine with the same feeling I'd had the night before.

Someone was watching me.

Turning toward my bedroom door, I sucked in a breath and yanked the covers over my head with a little shriek. My heart pounded and my pulse raced. I slowed my breathing and forced myself to relax. There was no reason to be afraid. It wasn't like a monster was out there, I told myself, and slowly lowered the covers.

”h.e.l.lo,” I said in a careful voice, staring at the large cat who sat a mere foot away from my head.

He studied me with the blackest eyes I'd ever seen, and his fur was nearly glowing it was so white. He didn't hiss, didn't meow, didn't purr, didn't so much as blink. He simply stared as though he were making up his mind about me.

I wasn't afraid, but I had to admit, it was a bit unnerving. ”Where on earth did you come from?” I mused aloud. When I'd toured the house over a month ago with Rosemary, he hadn't been here. There had been no evidence a pet or person or anyone had stepped foot in this place in a very long time.

Rosemary had said she'd kept the house locked up tight until yesterday when she'd handed over the keys to me. I couldn't help wonder how he had gotten inside and who had been taking care of him all this time. He certainly didn't look hungry. He looked perfectly fit, perfectly groomed, and perfectly beautiful . . . in a creepy sort of way.

I flipped back the covers and sat up, but the cat didn't even flinch. Add perfectly calm and in control to his list of eerie qualities. I shook my head in wonder. ”Okay, then, there's only one thing to do. Call Rosemary and see who you belong to. Because there's no way you could have survived all this time out here on your own.”

I hopped out of bed, tossed on my thick terry-cloth robe, and padded in fuzzy slippers all the way downstairs. At the bottom, I stopped short. The cat sat on the hardwood floor, looking at me. ”Wait a minute, you were just upstairs. How'd you beat me down here?”

Again with the quiet, piercing stare. At least this time, his ear twitched.

”Aha, I saw that.” I pointed at him. ”You really are alive and not some stuffed animal or, worse, a figment of my imagination. I'm on to you. You're not so tough there, buster.”

He blinked, like he was getting tired of our game, and turned around to walk regally to the living room and take up residence on the sofa as though he owned the place. Guess that meant he'd decided I was harmless as well.

I chewed my bottom lip, tapping my slipper on the cold wooden planks as I studied him. Something about this feline called to me. Something that said he was different and all alone in this world, but I still couldn't fathom how that could be. It might actually be nice to have someone around to keep me company, I decided. Only he wasn't mine. What if he really did belong to someone else?

I s.h.i.+vered, feeling the morning chill, and went over to stoke a fire in the fireplace. Glancing at the cat, I did a double take. I could have sworn he arched a brow at me.

”Oh, please, a little confidence here,” I said, and once the fire was roaring to my satisfaction, I gave the cat a satisfied smirk.

He turned his head in the other direction, the little stinker.

I went into the kitchen, picked up the phone, and was greeted with a dial tone. Yes, it was working! I called the real estate agent's office, and Rosemary answered on the first ring.

”Oh, Rosemary, thank G.o.d.”

”What's the matter, sweetie? I knew it was a bad idea to let you buy that old place.”

”I'm fine, Rosemary, there's just something I need to ask you.” I peeked around the corner at the cat, and he pierced me with an accusing look. I shrugged as though I had no choice and then ducked back behind the wall where he couldn't see me.

”Fire away,” she said.

”Well, I seem to have inherited a cat along with the house.” I turned around and jumped out of my skin, letting out a yelp.

He sat on the kitchen floor at my feet, his black eyes narrowed.

”A cat? What cat? And why did you yell? Do you need me to call animal control?”

”No!” I took a deep breath, my hand on my chest, then said, calmer, ”No, I'm fine, really. I thought I saw a mouse.” A lie.

And there went the cat's eyebrow again.

I frowned as I continued. ”I'm wondering if the cat belongs to anyone in town. He's bright white with jet-black eyes, and really big. Not overweight big, but really built for a cat, I guess you could say. Very svelte and sleek. Quite lovely in a spooky, eerie, masculine sort of way.”

The cat puffed out his furry chest and started licking his paw. He looked as though he could understand what I said and was pleased. He had quite the personality, I was finding out, and I couldn't help being amused.

”Honey, I've lived here all my life. No one in town owns a cat like that. Must be a stray, though I can't for the life of me figure out how he got inside that old house.”

”Still, I'd hate to take him away from some poor soul who might be missing him,” I responded. ”He's quite a character.”

The cat shot me a look I could have sworn was a scathing response to my sarcasm.

Rosemary sighed as though in defeat. ”I'll put some flyers around town for you if you want. If no one claims him in a week, I say keep him. You could use an ally in that death trap.”

I giggled. ”It's not like he's a watchdog.”

The cat stopped cleaning himself, gave me a disgusted look, and pranced out of the kitchen with his head held high.

”Either way, he's better than nothing. You never know if all them ghost stories are true.”

”I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Rosemary.” I hung up and added cat food, toys, a scratching post, bed, and litter box to my shopping list, secretly praying no one would claim him. Like it or not, we'd somehow bonded, and I didn't plan to give him up without a fight.

Later that day, I left the cat on the couch by a well-stoked fire with a small bowl of water, and then I headed into town. I tried to ignore the signs posted about the mysterious cat found out at the old Victorian house on Shadow Lane. Rosemary hadn't wasted a moment in respecting my wishes, even though I secretly prayed no one would claim the cat. He felt like a sibling, something I'd never had. For some reason, I already felt closer to him than I did my parents. Sad but true.

I continued on down the street and bought a week's worth of groceries and plenty of cat supplies, meeting a few residents along the way. The last stop I made was at the hardware store. I bought supplies for my sanctuary's makeover and ordered a sign to be hung above my front door, then headed home.

”Home,” I whispered, smiling. I liked the sound of that.

After spending all week redecorating my sanctuary and waiting for the phone to ring from someone claiming the cat, Rosemary called and said she'd taken the signs down.

The cat was mine.

I stared at the feline, knowing in my gut I was more his than he was mine, and decided I couldn't keep going around calling him ”cat.” But what on earth was I going to name him? I paced my living room as he sat watching me from his usual perch on the sofa.

Glancing into the kitchen, it dawned on me that in the entire week of knowing him and trying to care for him, he'd pretty much continued to care for himself. He hadn't touched his food or water, hadn't played with his toys, and hadn't slept in his bed. No one in town had ever heard about or seen him, yet he'd been in the house alone for months before I'd moved in.

It was almost like he was immortal.

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