California Moon. Catherine Lanigan

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СКАЧАТЬ toward the hall light. “You might have strep. You should get a culture as soon as possible, Elliot. But until you have time, I have some C Chlor that Dr. Scanlon prescribed for me last month for my sinus infection.”

      Elliot smiled beneficently and followed her to her door. Because he didn’t like having people inside his apartment, he respected Shannon’s privacy by remaining outside while she searched for the medicine.

      Between sneezes he asked, “Did you have a rough night?”

      “Why do you ask?” she shouted from the bathroom.

      He leaned against the doorjamb. “’Cuz you worked another double shift.”

      “Triple.”

      “Been a lot of those lately, huh? Things must really be busy at St. Chris. Sorta like at the garage.”

      She returned with a thermometer. “A lot of staff are still battling the flu. And strep is going around,” she said, not wanting to admit to anyone her fascination with John Doe. “Here, you might need this,” she said, giving him the thermometer. “If you get a fever, take two aspirin every four hours.”

      “Thanks, Doc.” He grinned, showing his large white teeth. “I’ll be seein’ ya,” he said and hustled quickly down the stairs.

      Poor Elliot. He’s the closest friend I have and I didn’t even ask what he was doing for Christmas.

      Closing the door, she mumbled, “Maybe he’s planning to spend the day catching up on his work, like me.”

      Just then she heard a jingle bell chime.

      “Valentine!”

      Her caramel-colored Manx cat jumped onto the back of the garage-sale Chippendale sofa Shannon had reglued and slipcovered last summer. The cat shook her head, making the brass bell she wore on a black velvet ribbon tinkle merrily.

      “Did you miss me today?”

      The cat scurried over to Shannon and rubbed against her white-stockinged legs, purring loudly to show her affection. Shannon picked up the animal and nuzzled her nose in the cat’s neck.

      Valentine purred as Shannon carried her to the kitchen where she opened a can of cat food. She watched with a smile as Valentine gobbled her dinner.

      Hearing Christmas carols being played on a stereo from a nearby apartment, Shannon said, “I don’t know about you, Valentine, but carols make me sad.”

      The cat looked up at her owner.

      Forcing a smile, Shannon said, “Hey, I can’t be really lonely if I have you, right? I mean, you could take me out for a holiday drink. And I know you’ve knocked yourself out shopping for the right gift to give me, just like I’ve got yours wrapped under the tree.”

      The cat stared blankly at her.

      “Yeah, right,” she replied glumly as Valentine went back to her meal.

      Flinging a single tear from her cheek, she said, “Let’s forget about the Christmas season. This is Tuesday morning. Just another morning…”

      The vision of John Doe’s face flitted across her mind as she sank into a wicker chair. Valentine jumped into her lap and Shannon stroked the feline’s back.

      “The weirdest thing happened to me today, Val. It’s John again. I have the strangest feelings when I’m around him. I don’t know what it is. I feel things so intensely when I’m in that room. It’s as if I know things about him that I shouldn’t. Today I sensed that he was in danger before it was really evident.”

      She shut her eyes, envisioning John’s face.

      “What if John weren’t like all the rest and didn’t go away? What if he…liked me. What if he was put in my life to make a change?”

      Valentine cocked her head to the side.

      “Nuts. You think I’m nuts? Well—” she lifted the cat to eye level “—you’d be right. There are no Prince Charmings, and besides, what the heck would I do with one of those anyway?”

      Valentine stared at her.

      “You’re right, Val. Fairy tales are for kids. You and I are women of the world. We know the score.”

      Suddenly, her face turned glum. Her eyes traveled beyond Valentine, to the window and the rain outside. She put the cat down and Valentine scurried away.

      Shannon rose and walked to the bathroom, “A hot shower is all I need. Maybe a foot soak. I could kill for a massage.” She rubbed the small of her back.

      Valentine followed her into the bathroom as she often did, hopped up on the closed toilet seat and watched. Shannon turned on the shower and steam formed instantly in the cold room.

      “I know, Val. It’s warmer in here with the shower on, but you have to remember that keeping the thermostat set low not only saves the environment, but costs less. And it’s important to save all that we can. Vital,” she reminded herself.

      The cat stood, stretched, and shook her head negatively.

      “Speaking of costs, we’ll pay bills today. That’ll be fun, won’t it?”

      Valentine gave Shannon a bored look.

      “Forget the bills. We could go to a garage sale this weekend and look for treasures. Maybe I’ll splurge and spend fifteen bucks.” Shannon never admitted to herself that possessions, material objects she’d purposefully sought out, examined and cherished, were an extension of her own psyche. She was far more fascinated with the mental exploration of attaching imaginary histories to her belongings, of having them provide her with a personal connection to humanity that she lacked.

      Each time she looked at a rocker or lamp, she would wonder, Where did it come from? Was the owner happy? Did they get rid of it for financial or emotional reasons? Did they want it back? Would they come searching for it?

      “Besides, it’s dangerous for me to become too attached to possessions. I’m just going to have to leave them someday, anyway.”

      Valentine curled in a ball and closed her eyes.

      “I’m serious. All my overtime this month will really swell my savings. I’m getting close to making our dream come true. Another twenty thousand and we can retire to Greece. We’ll have a blast there, Valentine.” She rubbed the cat’s head affectionately.

      “Finally, we’ll be able to run so far away no one will ever find us.” She sighed deeply as she rose and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Freedom.”

      Shannon shook her head as if to brush away the cobwebs. “Don’t think about the past, Shannon.”

      She traced the beginnings of fine lines across her forehead. “God, thirty seems ancient. At least these dark circles match my mood,” she said, touching the shadows beneath her eyes.

      After her shower, Shannon wrapped herself in a plaid flannel robe and pulled on a pair of warm red socks to match. Of all her traits, she was glad she had regained her ability СКАЧАТЬ