Part 3
Daniel got as far as the door before stopping. Grant was already crossing the street, head down, one glove clenched between his teeth while he pulled on the other.
Daniel looked at the keys in his palm, then went to his car.
At home, he pulled a ladder beneath the garage storage rack. His father’s cross-country skis were behind a rolled camping mattress, the straps stiff from disuse. One pole fell when he dragged the bundle down and clattered against the concrete.
He swore under his breath, found his winter boots, and shoved everything into the car.
His phone stayed on the passenger seat. He called Beth before leaving the driveway and told her he was going to the cabin. There was a cat there. He would explain when he knew more.
The temperature display read twenty-five degrees.
For most of the drive, he kept seeing Grant’s hand resting on that envelope. There had been time to gather the alarm code and sort the papers. There had been time to arrange a closing.
Daniel loosened his grip on the steering wheel. He still had to get there.
The public road had been plowed, but its cleared edge ended in a dirty ridge of compacted snow across the private turnoff. Beyond it, no wheel tracks broke the white surface winding between the trees.
He parked well clear of traffic, left his hazard lights on, and climbed the bank with the skis over one shoulder.
He had skied with his father as a boy. The bindings took him longer than they should have, and one glove kept catching in a buckle. When he finally stood upright, he was breathing hard before he had traveled a yard.
The first push carried him onto the frozen access road.
A thaw had softened the surface during the week; an overnight freeze had sealed it again. His skis held him above most of the snow, though the crust broke in shaded hollows and grabbed at the tips.
Empty cabins appeared through the trees. Some had tarps drawn over porch furniture. Others showed nothing but a roof and a dark line of windows above the drifts.
Daniel called whenever he passed a yard.
“Kitty? Anybody out here?”
He stopped often to listen. Wind moved the highest branches, and a loose strip of metal tapped somewhere against a chimney.
Nearly an hour passed before he found the address, its small metal numbers fixed to a leaning post: 37.
He stepped out of the bindings and sank almost to his knees. At the gate, snow had packed against the bottom rail. He forced enough space to squeeze through and climbed toward the porch, dragging his boots free with each step.
The handle would not turn. Through the glass, he could make out a bare table, closed curtains, and the shapes of boxes against a wall.
He had the keys, but no animal had been left inside.
Daniel went down the steps and called again, more softly this time.
“Come on, little cat.”
His breath drifted past the railing. He turned toward the outbuildings, wondering where to start digging.
A bird called behind him.
On the gazebo roof sat a small brown sparrow. It dropped to the rail, called again, and vanished through an opening in the lattice.
Daniel followed the sound.
The gazebo door moved under his hand. Snow lay in thin streaks across the floor. He saw an insulated pet shelter, a litter tray, and an empty food bag whose lower corners had been worked into ragged strips.
A little tag hung from the shelter. He brushed frost away with his glove and read the faded name.
“Willa.”
The sparrow landed on a chair back. Beneath it lay a crumpled wool blanket, so dirty it nearly matched the boards. The bird hopped onto the arm and called sharply.
Daniel took a step around the table.
Two small ears showed in a fold of fabric.
He knelt and reached toward them. The blanket resisted at first, stiff where moisture had frozen into it. He eased the edge back.
The cat’s face rested against her forelegs. Mats covered her narrow body. Along one side, the fur dipped between ribs so clearly that he could count them without touching her.
“Oh, no.”
He removed a glove with his teeth and laid two fingers gently behind her ear. She was terribly cold. He could not see her breathing.
Daniel bent closer. His bare hand shook against the wool, and he steadied it on the chair.
The sparrow called again.
Under his fingertips, one ear moved.
He held still. The cat’s eyelids parted a little, and her gaze wandered before settling on his face.
“There you are,” he whispered.
He slid both hands beneath the blanket and lifted her without unfolding her body. She weighed so little that he nearly raised her too quickly. He stopped, brought her close, and tucked the bundle inside his open parka.
The cold wool pressed against his sweater. He drew his scarf around the exposed edge and closed the coat as far as he safely could, leaving her face clear.
“Home with me. Always.”
He stood carefully, one arm beneath her, the other holding her against his chest.
Outside, the sparrow rose into the oak. Daniel left the gate open rather than waste time fighting it and worked his feet back into the bindings.
The return trip was slower than he wanted and harder than the first. He used a pole when he could, then held both against his side on the narrow sections so he could support the cat. Sweat collected under his collar. Every rough patch made him shorten his stride.
At a bend in the road, he stopped and rested his palm lightly against the bundle.
A shallow breath moved beneath it.
He waited for another, then pushed on.
By the time the car came into view, his shoulders ached. He stepped free of the skis, left them beside the bank, and started the engine. With the heater running, he arranged Willa on the passenger seat, keeping the blanket close around her.
He had just reached for his seat belt when a sparrow landed near the base of the windshield.
Daniel stared. The bird shifted its feet on the hood and looked toward the snow.
There was an old bag of trail mix in the glove compartment. He picked out the plain sunflower kernels, got out, and scattered them on a patch of packed snow clear of the tires.
“You did good,” he said.
He retrieved the skis, slid them into the back, and pulled onto the road. In the mirror, the sparrow dropped down beside the seeds.
Daniel called an emergency veterinary hospital as soon as he had a signal. He told them where he was and what he was bringing. They were waiting when he arrived.
A technician took the bundle before he had finished giving his name…
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