Unthinkable by Nancy Werlin Page A

something else.
It’s not unpleasant. It’s just there. I could never mistake it for
anything else.” Miranda inhaled again, more fully. Her gaze
swiveled to the white cat, lounging on the bed opposite. She
stared at him incredulously. “You brought a cat?”
Fenella waited in dread for Miranda to say she could
smell enchantment on the cat too.
Ryland stood. He stretched. He stared limpidly into
Miranda’s eyes and waved his beautiful tail. Then he
nimbly leaped across the gap between the beds to land
beside Miranda. He butted his head against her arm,
glanced up coquettishly, and then settled himself boldly
right on her lap.
Mouth curving with surprising sweetness, Miranda petted Ryland, at first cautiously, and then, as he responded,
more fully. “You’re a pretty one, aren’t you?” she said. “Do
you want your belly rubbed? Do you?”
Shamelessly, Ryland rolled over and presented his belly,
and when Miranda rubbed it, he purred like the engine of
Walker’s truck.
All of her nerves were in an uproar, but now that she’s
touched me, she’s calmed down. He sounded grumpy. I have
some ordinary cat magic. Maybe it will help. But remind me:
How did I get into this again?
Fenella couldn’t reply, of course. She watched Miranda
with the cat, and the cat with Miranda. Sitting down again
on her own bed, she drew her legs under herself. She remembered Lucy saying that she worried about Miranda.
She realized: Miranda already doesn’t feel safe, even surrounded by people who love her.
Safety.
But she couldn’t undermine Miranda more. Could she?
After a while, Miranda smiled apologetically across at
Fenella. “I’m sorry. It was scary there, for a minute, seeing
you. I got cold shakes. I think I had a flashback. I hope you
know, Fenella, I’m glad to see you. I’m glad you’re okay.
You’re not dead! You’re free, like me? Tell me everything.”
Fenella opened her mouth, but Miranda’s attention had
already splintered back to Ryland. “Where did you get this
little fellow?” She listened while Fenella told her the false
story about being given him on the street, and then she
nodded. “No wonder you couldn’t resist him. So soft. So
friendly.” Miranda slipped her fingers deep into his fur.
“Look at that adorable heart on his chest. You said his name
was Ryland? It suits him.”
She went on talking about the cat, seemingly unable to
stop long enough to let Fenella answer the questions she’d
been asked. Fenella was relieved; she didn’t want to answer.
But at the first opportunity, Fenella said, “What about you,
Miranda? How has it been for you in your new life?”
Miranda lowered her face. She stroked the cat some
more. “Such a mix,” she said at last. “It’s a dream come true
in so many ways. My dear friends, Soledad and Leo. My
daughter and granddaughter and son-in-law. This home to
live in. I used to dream about this house, back in Faerie.
Well, you know. I lived here before, when I was pregnant
with Lucy. It’s always been my ideal of home.”
“I know.”
“I see my Lucy every day. He’s good to her, that boy she
married. And she’s good to him. They have a hard road in
some ways, being so young with a child to care for, and
needing to figure out how to earn money and be adults in
the world. But they have so much help. They’re doing well.
I’m proud of them. Do you have a comb for this cat?”
Fenella fetched a comb, which had been provided by
Walker. She reseated herself and watched as Miranda pulled
the comb through the cat’s thick fur. The cat lay supine on
her lap, his eyes slit with voluptuous pleasure.
She digs in just enough. Ahhhhh.
Miranda kept her face averted from Fenella. “I adore
Dawn. Sometimes when I’m taking care of her, though, I
pretend she’s Lucy and I’m eighteen again.”
Fenella winced.
“Is that horrible? I pretend that none of it ever happened.
Soledad says it’s normal to have those thoughts, and maybe
it