Norah's Ark

I certainly am when he looks at me like that, I thought. My defenses start crumbling like Hoover Dam being hit by a nuclear weapon.

“Okay, okay. I get your point. No more playing games with my emotions—or yours. I’ll quit stuffing it when I’m attracted to someone—even you.”

“Even me? What a romantic you are, Norah.” A smile played on his beautiful lips and his eyes twinkled. “I’ll take these as words of hope.”

I punched him in the arm. “Just because I promise not to play games with my emotions doesn’t mean anything will come of it, you know.”

“I’ll take that chance.” He picked up my hand and gently kissed each knuckle.

When he dropped me off at my front door and drove off, I stared after Joe for a long while.

“Well,” I muttered as I let myself in and prepared to have Bentley slam into my kneecaps in a frenzy of glee, “we’ll see what comes of this.”

It wasn’t until I was snuggled into bed with Bentley under the covers with me—he has his own pillow which he uses just like humans do—that I began to think about the ramifications of my conversation with Joe.

Then Bentley began to snore beside me and I was reminded that there wasn’t anything to worry about. It would have to be one very special man who’d be willing to share his bed with my dog—and that was a requirement I didn’t plan to bend easily.

Chapter Five

My phone rang at six on Monday morning. Fortunately I was up, showered and making myself a cappuccino to go with my bagel. The animals have no concept of “sleeping in” so they’re training me to get up earlier and earlier. Someone once asked me if I’d ever consider having a rooster around the Ark. No way. If I want another alarm clock, I’ll go to Target.

“Hi, Dad,” I said as I picked up the receiver. He’s the only one I know who keeps ridiculous hours like these.

“It’s me, Norah.”

And it was certainly not my father. “Auntie Lou? Is that you? You sound funny.”

“Nothing funny about it.” Her voice was fuzzy. Or maybe she just didn’t have her teeth in yet. “Are you coming to work soon?”

I eyed my bagel. “I’d planned to leave in fifteen or twenty minutes, after I eat breakfast and skim the paper.”

“Could you stop over here first?”

Odd. Auntie Lou likes to sleep late because she often stays up late into the night watching old movies and doing crossword puzzles. The doors to her shop never swing open before ten-thirty.

“Sure, I’d be glad to.”

“If you don’t have that extra key to my store at home with you, my key is under the pot with the artificial geraniums in it. You might have to dig a bit as I laid some stones on top of it, too.”

“You won’t be up to open the door?”

“If I could get up, I wouldn’t be calling you, dearie.”

I felt a wash of panic run through me. “Are you sick?”

“Not so’s you’d know it.”

“Then what’s going on?”

“Oh, Arthur pushed me out of bed this morning and Rhuma-tiz helped him,” she said obliquely.

“You fell out of bed?” I translated.

“More of a bad slide, but I ended up on the floor just the same. Fortunately I grabbed my cell phone on the way down. All I need is a little help up, dearie. I hope I didn’t bother you too early.”

I was already wrapping my bagel in a napkin and pouring my cappuccino into a carry cup as I answered. “Auntie Lou, how long did you wait before calling me?”

“Oh, not long. I got a chance to see the sun come up through my bedroom window. Pretty.”

“I’ll be right there.” Leave it to Auntie Lou to find the good in falling out of bed and lying on the floor half the night.

“No hurry. I’ll be here when you get here.”

No hurry? What am I going to do with that woman? Independent and free as a bird, stubborn as a mule and patient as a saint, she’d no doubt waited until it was convenient for me before calling. I wanted to hug her and shake her all at once.

Fortunately I’m walking distance from Pond Street. I was on my knees pawing in the dirt under the fake geraniums when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I glanced sideways at a pair of polished black leather boots and four equally glossy hooves. On their way, no doubt to the art fair in the park. I found the key and rocked back on my heels to look at Officer Haley and Sarge. Sarge, even more imposing from this angle, shifted restlessly and the metal rings on his headstall and bridle jingled faintly.

“Anything wrong?” Nick Haley inquired mildly.

If I hadn’t been so rattled, I might have taken time to appreciate the melodic timbre in his voice. Instead, I just got annoyed.

“Do you ever take those things off?” I asked, referring to his mirrored glasses. “And if you do, I wish you’d do it right now. I need you to come upstairs and help me.”

His eyebrow arched over the frame. Then, slowly, he pulled the glasses off, revealing a strong, handsome face with unexpectedly blue eyes, long dark lashes and high cheekbones. Whoa. Eye candy.

“I got a call from Auntie Lou asking for help. She’s fallen out of bed and can’t get herself up, sort of like the television commercial, I’m afraid. Though she didn’t admit it, I’m sure she lay there most of the night so as not to disturb anyone’s sleep. She’s small but solid. I could use an extra pair of hands.”

He tied Sarge in a quick release knot, took the dirty key from my hand and opened the door. Together we ascended the stairs to the second floor of Auntie Lou’s shop and entered the small, cozy but cluttered apartment where she’d lived for as long as I—or anyone else on Pond Street—could remember.

If the shop was fascinating, her apartment was mesmerizing—full of charming bits of Auntie Lou’s history and favorite things that had come into the shop and been squirreled away in her personal stash. She loved old hats. A dozen of them were perched on hat forms around the room sporting plumes and feathers or intricate beading and competing for space with hand-painted vases, antique books and statues of dancing figures.

But this wasn’t a museum and we weren’t on a tour. I headed for what I knew was her bedroom and opened the door.

Auntie Lou lay on the floor in a puddle of sunlight. She’d put a hand across her eyes to keep out the sun and the big calico cat sat sentry over her. Her nightgown was pure Little House on the Prairie and the cane she’d taken to using lately lay on the floor out of reach.

“I hope you didn’t hurry on my account, dearie,” she managed. Her throat was dry and her voice cracking.

“I certainly did. How long have you been lying here? And is anything broken?”

“Only my pride, child. Only my pride.”

Without speaking, as if we were reading each other’s minds, Officer Haley and I braced ourselves and lifted Auntie Lou to her feet. Her knees buckled a bit and she sank gratefully onto the bed.

Officer Haley moved into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water which she sucked down with gusto.

“Should we call a doctor?” he inquired gently.

“Mercy sakes, no! There’s no medicine for being old and silly. I don’t know what made me think I could hop out of bed for a drink of water like I was a teenager. Arthur is a bad bedfellow, that’s all I can say.’