Melba ceased typing and turned to smile at me. “See you later, then, boys.” She gave the cat an affectionate scratch on his head. Diesel purred his thanks.
“Come on now,” I said, and Diesel leaped gracefully to the floor. He followed me to the stairs and dashed up them as soon as I placed my foot on the first step.
Back in the office, Diesel began to play with the loose packing material, batting it around and then leaping on top of it. I watched him for a moment. He was still very kittenish, despite his size.
As I sat down at my desk, I noticed the message light blinking on the phone. I listened to a message from circulation at Hawksworth Library next door informing me that a book I’d requested was available.
I checked my watch—it was nearly five o’clock now. Time to head home. I could delve more into Godfrey’s papers tomorrow. Before we left, though, I repacked the open box on my desk, taking away Diesel’s toy. “You can play with it again tomorrow.”
He turned and sat with his back to me until I headed for the door. I attached the leash to his harness, locked the door behind us, and set off down the stairs and out the back door. I wanted to pick up the book, but first I had to put Diesel in the car. Hawksworth was one of the few places I couldn’t take him. A couple of staff members had complained that his presence was too disruptive, because invariably students clustered around him, wanting to pet him. They made too much noise, according to the complainants.
So, into the car Diesel went. The day was cool, and I cracked the front windows enough to allow air to circulate—but not enough for a large and enterprising cat to squeeze through.
“I’ll be back in five minutes,” I told him, but I could tell he wasn’t happy at being left behind. He never was.
Inside the library, I went straight to the circulation desk. While I waited for the student worker to find my book, a recent study of the late antiquity and the early Middle Ages, I listened idly to a conversation at the nearby reference desk. Willie Clark was on duty and being his usual charming self while helping a female student.
“No, we haven’t received that issue yet. Can’t you read the screen? Do you see any mention of volume thirty-three, issue ten?”
I watched as Willie tapped the computer screen in front of him while the student, red-faced, mumbled something.
“Then you’d better go back and check your citation again. You probably wrote it down wrong.” The disgust in his voice was obvious.
Head down, the student scurried away. She was probably a freshman. Older female students learned to avoid the reference desk when Willie sat behind it. He could be gruff with male students as well, but his voice had a particular edge to it whenever he talked to a woman.
Not surprising, then, that he had never married. He wasn’t gay either, as far as I knew. Too crabby, in my experience, for a partner of either sex to put up with long enough to establish a relationship.
Willie caught me looking at him, my expression no doubt critical. He scowled at me and turned away.
Book in hand, I left the library and went back to my car. Diesel complained nonstop to me on the short drive home, and I scratched his head a couple of times in apology for having abandoned him in the car.
The moment I opened the kitchen door appetizing smells tickled my nostrils. Diesel sniffed appreciatively too, though he was bound to be disappointed. I tried not to feed him from the table, though he often sat nearby and stared hard, as if hoping to bend me to his will.
I glanced at the clock after I released Diesel from his harness. It was a little after five, and Azalea had left for the day. There was a pot of green beans on the stove, and when I peeked in the still-warm oven I found a chicken, mushroom, and brown rice casserole. There was a tossed salad in the fridge as well and, as usual, Azalea had prepared enough food for at least four people.
I checked Diesel’s bowls, and Azalea had taken care of them already. She might fuss at him sometimes, but she wasn’t about to let anyone in the house go hungry. Diesel examined them before loping off to the utility room.
The doorbell rang. I hoped it wasn’t Kanesha Berry, dropping by with more questions.
Julia Wardlaw stood on my doorstep, looking wan and tired.
“I apologize for dropping by like this without calling first,” she said as I stepped aside for her to enter. “But I wanted to see Justin before I went home.”
“You’re always welcome here, Julia,” I said. “You have an open invitation to visit whenever you like.” I shut the door and examined her with concern.
“Thank you,” she said.
“How are you? And how is Ezra?”
“I’m tired, but Ezra’s doing better, thank the Lord. They’re keeping him one more night, and he should be able to come home tomorrow.”
“That’s good,” I said. “Why don’t you come on in the kitchen and sit down. Let me get you something to drink, and I’ll go get Justin for you, if he’s here. I just got home myself, and I haven’t seen him yet.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Julia said as she followed me. “Right now I don’t feel up to climbing those stairs, I have to say.”
Diesel came to greet our visitor, and Julia petted and talked to him while I poured her a glass of the sweet tea Azalea had made.
As I climbed the stairs I thought, not for the first time, about having an intercom system installed. But then I reflected that I could always use the exercise.
Puffing slightly by the time I reached Justin’s door, I knocked.
“Come in.”
I opened the door and took a step inside. Justin sat at his desk, working at his computer. He tapped the keys a moment longer before he turned to greet me. “Hello, sir.”
“Hello,” I said. “Your mother is downstairs. She’d like to talk to you.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll be right down. I need to do one more thing to this”—he indicated the computer with a quick nod—“but that won’t take two minutes.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll tell her.” I backed out and shut the door. Justin seemed a bit more animated today. All day yesterday he had appeared depressed, occasionally almost catatonic in his lack of response. A good night’s rest had helped, I supposed, along with a little distance from the events of yesterday.
Julia had finished her tea by the time I got back to the kitchen, and I offered her more after I relayed Justin’s message. She declined.
“You’re welcome to visit with Justin in here,” I said, “but you might be more comfortable in the living room.”
“This is fine,” Julia said. “As long as you don’t mind. This is such a lovely, comforting room.”
I glanced around it with affection. Yes, it was comforting. When Aunt Dottie was alive, it was usually the center of the house, the room where she spent so much of her time. I liked to think her warmth and generosity lingered here.
“It is that,” I said. “Why don’t you stay and have dinner with me, you and Justin both? Azalea left more than enough for the three of us, and I can guarantee it will be delicious. That woman is a wonderful cook.”
Julia smiled. “I really shouldn’t impose on you after all you’ve done already. But I can’t face the thought of going home to cook for myself. Thank you. I’d love to have dinner with you.”
“Hi, Mama.” Justin came clattering into the kitchen. Yes, he was definitely more animated tonight. He bent to kiss his mother on the cheek. She touched his head as he did so, and he didn’t move for a moment.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just run upstairs for a few minutes,” I said. “Then if you’re both ready to eat, we’ll have dinner.”
Julia smiled her thanks, and as I headed for the stairs I heard her relaying my invitation to her son.
I dawdled in my bedroom, wanting to give Julia and Justin enough time to talk. I wondered whether Julia was going to tell her son about Ezra’s health problems. She ought to do it soon. Postponing it wouldn’t be doing Justin any favors in the long run.