“Of course.” Lexi rose, topped off her coffee, and then turned the coffeemaker off. No sense leaving it on while she was away. “You might want to let your friend know that you’re sending an American vet to his house to see to his horse. I don’t want to get shot for trespassing or showing up unannounced.”
“No guns in Scotland, lass.”
“Well…you know what I mean. I would rather be welcomed than shooed away.”
“He will know ye come to help himself and his friend.” Mairwen smiled, but it came off as anything but reassuring. “I shall see to it that he is expecting ye.” Then she actually curtsied, surprising Lexi to no end. “Good day to ye, child—and thank ye, once again.”
“My pleasure.” Lexi watched her leave, battling with the distinct impression that something very important had just happened, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She refilled the cat food bowl to overflowing and put out a second bowl of water just in case Aylryd emptied the first bowl. “I hate to leave you on our first day together, but you’ll be fine. Take a good, long nap. I’ll be back before you know it.”
The feline hissed.
“Now, is that nice?”
The cat lay back its ears, flattening them close to its head. It flipped the very tip of its tail with a rapid-fire motion.
“Now, look. I am sorry, but I told Mairwen I would do this, and I always keep my word. Besides, what if that poor horse is seriously ill? I can let them know what they need to do, or if they need to contact a local vet.”
Aylryd rumbled with a displeased growl.
Lexi shook her head. “You are pitiful—and you’re just going to have to get over it. We don’t do selfish where I come from. I’m going to get dressed and go.”
After she’d showered, dressed, and was halfway to the door, she realized she had left the back garden door open, and Aylryd was nowhere to be found. “Well crap. I’ll never find that little devil.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and exited that way, hoping she was wrong. With any luck, she would find the little fuzz bomb snoozing in a sunny spot.
She didn’t. There was no sign of the little cat anywhere.
“Here kitty, kitty,” she called, making all the tempting noises a cat usually couldn’t resist. No luck. Aylryd had disappeared. She backtracked inside and looked everywhere. No cat. It was as though the sassy little ginger kitten never existed. Then she happened to glance out the kitchen window. “You wicked little beast.”
The crafty feline was sitting tall and proud in the middle of the car’s hood, slowly flipping his tail. He glared at the cottage as if daring her to make him move.
She rolled her eyes, marched outside, and reached for him, but her reflexes were no match for his. She lunged and missed. Twice. “Come here. Don’t you want to spend the day inside? With food? And water?”
The treacherous kitten apparently thought this a great game, because he kept her angling around the car for several laps. After unsuccessfully playingcatch the cat, Lexi threw up her hands. “Fine. Stay outside. I’ll see you when I get back.”
As soon as she opened the car door, the kitten darted inside and disappeared under the back seat.
“Aylryd—really?” She couldn’t help but groan as she stretched to reach him, but couldn’t fit her hand into where he’d stuffed himself. Cursing under her breath, she backed up a few steps. “I give up. If you want to go, fine. But don’t expect any coddling or special treatment.” Ridiculous little cat. Well, maybe not so ridiculous but too damned smart, that was for sure. She locked the cottage doors, tried one last time to extricate the cat from the car, then gave up and threw herself into the driver’s seat.
As soon as they were on the road, the infuriating fur ball climbed out from his hidey-hole, jumped onto the passenger seat, and curled up for a snooze.
“You are a shit,” she told the cat. “Adding insult to injury is just rude.” She shook her head, concentrating on the route ahead. It was starting to rain, and an odd sort of misty fog was rolling in, blanketing the narrow thoroughfare and settling around the base of the trees in the distance. Midday had turned as dark and murky as early evening and set off a strange feeling ofdéjà vuwithin her.
“This is my dream,” she realized aloud, slowing the car to a hesitant crawl. Maybe she should turn around and head back. She could check in on Mairwen’s Mr. Seventhson tomorrow when the weather was better. If she happened to get stuck here, out in the middle of nowhere, she didn’t have any resources like she did back home. She had no idea what she would do. Just pray for a phone signal strong enough so she could do a search for a wrecker service. Otherwise, she would have to sit here until someone drove by. She didn’t like that choice at all.
“The weather has turned on us, Aylryd. I’m going back. I learned a long time ago that you never try to outdo Mother Nature. She wins every time.”
The kitten jumped up onto the dash and hunkered down as if ready to observe the entire operation.
Downshifting to slow the vehicle, Lexi squinted harder through the ever-thickening fog. This situation had lost all sense of adventure and now teetered on unpleasant anxiousness. She needed to turn this vehicle around while she could still see the roadway at all. “It looks like it might get wider up ahead. I just hope nobody is coming. But if they are, surely they’ll be as slowed down by this pea soup as I am.”
Mid-turn, the car stalled, and the engine died.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Lexi didn’t panic. Instead, she did everything Mammaw had taught her about restarting a stick shift. Manual transmissions could be a royal pain, but the main thing was not to panic, not to flood it, and keep her foot on the clutch. But it seemed the engine didn’t care about any of Mammaw’s ways of restarting a persnickety machine. Instead, it sat there, gurgling and groaning like a dying beast. And in the middle of the road, no less.
“Well, dammit.”
“Prrrpppttt?”
She glared at the cat. “Maybedammitwould be a better name for you than Aylryd. I’ll have to get back to you on that.” But then she felt guilty. It wasn’t the kitten’s fault they were stranded. Thunder rumbled in the distance, making the feline cower and hiss.
