And he experienced a visceral memory of being seven years old and hiding in his closet with the door closed. Panic had filled him up like an overinflated balloon, closing off his chest until he'd barely been able to breathe. And he'd sat completely still and silent on a pile of clothes and shoes he'd been supposed to put away. Believing with all his might that, if his mom couldn't find him, then what she had to say couldn't be true.
"Okay." He pushed away the memory but couldn't push away how shaken he felt in its wake. "Okay."
Action. He needed to do something.
The door was still open, and neither one of them was getting any warmer standing here. He reached for the wall hook where he kept several coats. He grabbed the first thing his hand touched—a sheepskin lined coat—and bent to wrap it around the girl. It engulfed her completely, and then some.
"Little kitty, can you do this?" He felt the weight of her attention snap to him. "Can you meow once for yes and twice for no?"
There was a slight pause and then, "Meow."
Yes.
Okay. This was going to work.
"Little kitty, is there an emergency at Jilly's house?"
"Meow meow."
No.
He didn't acknowledge the beat of relief.
"Do you know what an emergency is?"
"Meow." This time he could hear a soft resignation in her tone.
Satisfied that he didn't need to dial 911, he took a moment to steady his breaths and grab the next nearest coat from its hook. He shrugged it on, letting its weight settle over him. It felt like a straight north wind was slicing through his open back door, but he didn't want to trap her inside.
"Did your brothers do something to you? Pick on you?"
"Meow meow." No.
He fumbled for the sneakers lined up on the rug in the corner of the mudroom. It wasn't ideal to put them on bare feet, but it was better than having his feet exposed.
"Did you have a bad dream?"
He was wracking his brain for reasons the girl would've hiked across the field, down the hill, and all the way to his house.
"Meow." So soft that he barely heard her.
A nightmare.
What could've frightened the girl so badly that she'd come over here? He didn't ask. He knew from experience that sometimes nightmares were real.
"Does Jilly know you came over here?"
He knew the soft two meows were coming, but he needed to be sure.
"You didn't want to wake her up?"
"Meow meow."
"Would she be angry if you woke her up?"
He waited, but no answer came. Maybe Lindsey didn't know. How long had she been with Jilly?
"You have to go back home," he said softly.
