the
nearby woods.
What woke her was an unexpected weight
on her outstretched leg. Inspection proved that to be the barn
cat's not inconsiderable head. The cat opened its eyes when she
shifted her leg.
"Lone-ly," it explained and Agnes
sighed.
"I know," she said seriously and the
cat blinked its green-gold eyes, nuzzling its chin down on her knee
-- and was upright in the next second, ears to the fore.
Agnes heard it, too, deep in her gut:
the ground-shaking rumble of heavy machinery.
"Plow's coming," she told the cat, and
hauled herself to her feet.
She took the ramp slow and careful and
went a ways down the drive, wary of the wire, though it wasn't
spitting anymore. The wind was a steady push against her face,
carrying the racket of trees breaking. She gauged the progress of
the town plow by the rumble in her chest, and her hand come up to
flag 'er down the instant the blade cleared the drive.
The plow rolled on another eight feet,
braking, which is no small thing for a piece of machinery the size
of your town snowplow. When it was stopped, the driver climbed down
and walked back.
"Keep back from that wire!" he called
up to her.
"I plan to," Agnes
answered.
He hit the end of the drive, braked
sudden enough to skid, caught himself and stood there, hands in the
pockets of his jacket, taking in the damage. Fella maybe her own
age, watch cap pulled snug over his ears and a salt-pepper beard
keeping the south portion of his face warm.
He studied on the tangle of busted
limb and wire, looked over at the truck, then at the
barn.
"Fine lookin' cat," he said. Agnes
nodded, but he'd already put his attention back on that
wire.
"Jakey Pelletier's place, ain't it?"
he asked, after he'd studied the situation to his own
satisfaction.
"Was," Agnes said. "Jakey passed
summer before last."
"Jakey? No. I heard that. I
did
hear that." He shook his head. "He
left right close to the time I lost my wife. Cancer." Another
headshake. "I'm Tom Oullette -- me and Jakey worked the lines
together couple years, before I come on with the town. Good man.
Solid."
Agnes swallowed, recalling for no good
reason the orange cat, laying cold and quiet in the barn. "All of
that," she said, but not loud, due to her throat closing
up.
"Listen," Tom Oullette called up to
her, "I need to get back on the job -- things are this bad and
worse all over. I'll call in to the town, tell 'em about the wire.
You need anything? Want a lift out? Elementary school's setting up
as a shelter."
"I'm fine," Agnes told him. "Plenty
wood. Pantry's
stocked. Freezer --" she looked at the
down wire. "Freezer's in trouble, I guess."
"Radio?" he asked her.
"Batteries?"
"All set."
"You'll do," he allowed, his grin a
sudden flash of white in his beard. "Best thing's for you and the
cat to get inside. Load up the stove and put the kettle on. That
wire -- main line's down, all the way back to the four corners. You
don't want to touch that wire, but it's safe enough to get on over
to the steps. Once you're inside, you'll be fine. I'll put in that
call to central first thing I'm back in the truck."
"I appreciate that," she said, and
smiled. "Thanks."
"That's all right," said Tom Oullette.
"Go on inside, now. No sense standing out in the wind."
He turned and half-walked, half-skated
back to his plow truck. Agnes saw him climb into the cab before she
turned herself and skated, all her bones and bruises complaining,
over to the steps.
It was a scramble to stay on the step
and get the door open, but she finally managed it, and without a
tumble, too. Boots firmly on kitchen floor linoleum, she looked out
once more across the yard.
And saw the cat, sitting in the middle
of all that ice, tail 'round its toes, eyes on her face.
"Well," Agnes said, pushing the door
wider, "what're you waiting for? Come in, if you want to come in.
There's room."
The cat blinked its green-gold eyes. Slowly, taking its own
good time, it got up on four feet, stretched its middle
talltallTALL
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