Page 10 of Banshee's Lament
“Oh! Come in through here and I’ll show you,” I exclaim, opening the door again then ushering him inside. “I put a self-cleaning litter box back here, which helps tremendously with odor control.”
He laughs while nodding. “Yeah, this is a small enough space it would get pretty rank in here with a regular box, I’m sure.”
“If she has to go, I can unzip the side of the carrier, she’ll come out and do her thing then after she gets some food and a drink of water, she comes back when I call her.”
“Amazing. Most cats do their own thing.”
“I think, and of course I’m no expert, but because I kept her strapped to me since she was so little, she thinks I’m her packmate or something,” I admit. “Sometimes, she acts more like a dog than a cat.”
“Could be. I’m always fascinated by how different each animal is, and find out new things regarding their character all the time,” he says. “Okay, so we won’t be helicopter friends or anything like that, but Judith will worry if you don’t at least text to let us know you’ve landed safely somewhere. Say, every couple of days?” he queries, grinning at me.
I giggle because I suspect they’llbothworry whether or not they say otherwise. Their only child, a son, was killed several years ago in a work-related accident. Judith has poured herself into volunteering all over the place, while he oversees a thriving veterinarian practice. “I can do that, and again, thank you both so much for all you’ve done.”
“You’re more than welcome. Don’t be a stranger, Rory. You’re always welcome here.”
I hug him once more then get into the driver’s seat, ready to hit the road and see where it’s going to take me.
* * *
“This looks like a good place to hang out for a week or so, Sass,” I murmur as I pull into a campground and RV park. I found it doing a Google search when I stopped to fill up an hour or so ago. It’s off the interstate and the area is so picturesque, I felt I needed to stay for a little while. Since fleeing my farmhouse, I’ve been constantly surrounded by people, and I need to fully decompress, then set up a plan of action regarding Patrick.
Stopping at the small building that has ‘Office’ over the door, I glance at Sassy and see she’s passed out right now and grin. She spent some time earlier today chilling on our loft bed after eating, and after all that activity, I figure she’s recharging for late-night zoomies, which is her typical modus operandi. Even with her cast, she still manages to cause havoc.
“Be right back, girl,” I say, getting out of the RV and locking it so I can keep it running for her.
As I walk into the office, I smell cinnamon and breathe in deeply, blushing when I hear someone say, “Smells like home, doesn’t it?”
“Actually, yes,” I admit, walking to the counter. “I’m Rory Stallings, I called about an hour or so ago and rented a site for the next week.”
“Ah, yes, here it is,” the man, whose name tag says Fred, replies. “Set you up on one of my favorite sites. The views are all gorgeous, but this one is a personal choice for me and my wife.”
I slip my debit card from my secret account out of my back pocket and quickly read the one-page contract he sets in front of me before I sign and initial where the ‘X’ is, then slide it back along with my card. “Is there a grocery store nearby?” I ask.
“Give me one second, my Gloria would be pissed at me if I didn’t give you the whole spiel,” he advises, chuckling. “She normally does this but had to go help our young’un’ out with the baby. I’m all thumbs when it comes to this kind of stuff.”
“No worries, I’m in no hurry at all,” I reply, smiling at him. Soon, I’m on my way back out to my RV with a map of the sites in hand, as well as a brochure that lists every possible interest someone could have, from antique shopping to grocery stores and restaurants. Getting back in, I see Sassy is still snoozing, so I put the RV in reverse then follow the map to our home away from home for the next week or so. Time is irrelevant right now since I do medical billing and coding from home and can work anywhere.
Once I’ve parked, I go through the process Grampy taught me, hooking up the bathroom hoses and water lines so I can shower and what-not. Tomorrow or the next day is soon enough to go into town and restock my pantry; I’ve still got plenty left from what Dr. Terry and Judith sent with me, plus what I already had stocked up on.
“God, it’s so pretty here,” I murmur, taking a good look around. Trees are plentiful and across the way, there’s a gorgeous lake at the base of the mountain. The shimmering water is soothing and just what I need to help further ease the tension that’s had me wound up so tightly since I left.
* * *
“That was a good movie, huh, Sassy?” I ask, not expecting an answer, as I shut my laptop down.
I’ve already caught up on my work, checked and cleared out my emails, and paid my bills, which thankfully are all online or autopay through my separate bank account. No paper trail for me so that Patrick isn’t able to find me right now. Grabbing some pajamas, I head into the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed. It’s early and I’ll probably regret it when I’m awake before the sun comes up, but driving is still a bit challenging with my cast. After wrapping it up while the water warms, I step into the phonebooth sized stall and quickly wash my hair and body. I tend to be a no muss kind of girl, so I don’t spend hours in the shower. Nope. I shave when I have to, put conditioner in my long hair when I remember, and seldom think about things like exfoliating or moisturizing.
“You’re a real catch, Rory,” I jest at my reflection once I’ve wiped the steam off the mirror. “Who wouldn’t want all of this?” I wave my casted arm down my body.
Now giggling at my own thoughts, I dry off then slip into my cat mom pajama set, then clean up the bathroom, tossing my dirty clothes into the hamper that’s tucked into a closet which doubles as some storage space. Grampy and I did a lot of customizing in here and I’m still amazed that what we did has given me everything I need despite the lack of overall space. After I brush my teeth, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, double check that the doors are all locked up tight and the window blinds are pulled, then crawl up to the loft, my e-reader in hand.
Time to put this day to bed because it’s been a long one. Tomorrow, I’ll worry about creating a comprehensive to-do list, but tonight is all about relaxing.
* * *
Waking up the next morning, I smile hearing the birds chirping. “Time to start the day, sweet girl,” I say, climbing down from my loft and heading to the bathroom. Once my morning routine is done and I’m dressed, I fill up her dry food dish, refresh her water, then put down a can of wet food for her, before stepping outside with my own guilty pleasure, a diet soda.
“God, Fred was right,” I murmur, staring in awe at the lake as the sun comes up over the horizon. The colors are phenomenal, and I wish I was able to put what I’m seeing down on paper. Unfortunately, I don’t have the artistic gene. I can bring a plant back from the grave, cook and bake well enough to open my own place, and hunt and fish, but drawing is outside my wheelhouse.