James wasn’t particularly fond of cats. As far as he was concerned their place was in a barn, catching mice, not underfoot in a house. It was, however, one of God’s creatures. And he was a servant of the Lord. Therefore, he assumed it was his duty to either affect a rescue or find someone who would.
Craning his neck to watch the kitten, he tried to recall how long it had been since he’d shinnied up a tree. Twenty years? Probably. Except for his motorcycle riding he’d never been as athletic as most boys. While they’d been out playing baseball and football, he’d been doing his homework or reading his dad’s copy of the Wall Street Journal.
That had prepared him for his initially successful foray into the business world but it hadn’t satisfied his soul or equipped him to deal with the perfidy of his partners or the infidelity of his late wife, which was why he’d eventually chucked his old life and escaped to the Ozarks.
He smiled. He could identify with Lillie Delaney’s decision to quit her job and head for the hills. Although Gumption hadn’t been his point of origin, it had served the same purpose. He, too, had come here to the South to start over. Perhaps he should have told her so. Then again, it was his job to listen and offer wise counsel, not spout off about his own life history the first chance he got.
Approaching the base of the tree, he reached up as far as he could. The frightened kitten hissed and backed away, trembling so badly that some of the tiny flower petals around it shook loose and drifted down.
“Come on, cat,” he cajoled, wiggling his fingers. “Don’t you know a friend when you see one?”
Obviously, the answer was no.
James withdrew, planning his next move as he brushed the shed blossoms off his jacket. He looked around. Few good citizens of Gumption were on the street at this time of night and those who were were judiciously avoiding eye contact. Either they knew there was a cat stuck in the tree or they still considered him an outsider, even after nearly a year. Either was possible. Both were likely.
If he were a hungry, scared animal, what would bring him to his rescuer? Food. He needed a big handful of something cats found irresistible.
It was quicker and easier to backtrack to DD’s than to fire up his bike, ride home and raid his refrigerator.
Lillie had locked the front door when she’d let him out of the café so he circled around back. That door, too, was locked, but at least there was a porch light to see by.
Unwilling to give up so easily, James took off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, then cautiously lifted the top of the battered green Dumpster that sat against the brick wall. The fumes that instantly filled his nostrils were so strong, so disgusting, he dropped the lid with a bang.
Gasping, he turned away, grabbed a deep breath, held it and tried again. Judging by the smell, there were fish scraps in this garbage bin old enough to vote!
He was gingerly lifting aside a crumpled cardboard box when someone directly behind him said, “I don’t believe it,” and startled him so much he lost his hold on the lid once again. It thwacked him on the forearm before he could jump clear.
He whirled, uttering a heartfelt “Ow!” There stood Lillie Delaney, arms folded across her chest, giving him a look that intimated she’d caught him in the middle of a robbery. Then the corners of her mouth started to twitch and lift.
“Hello, again,” she said, half laughing. “If you were that hungry, why didn’t you ask for a second piece of pie?”
“I’m not doing this for myself,” James explained. “It’s for the cat.”
She scanned the compacted gravel at his feet, then bent to peer behind the Dumpster. “What cat?”
“The one in the tree by the church.” He couldn’t help grinning back at her in spite of the pain in his forearm. “It’s a long story.” He started to rub his smarting arm, then realized how dirty he’d gotten and stopped. “Could you spare a paper towel? I’d like to clean up.”
She stepped out of the doorway and held the screen for him. “Go on in and use the restroom. I’ll wait for you.”
“Thanks.”
He made short work of scrubbing himself clean, rejoined her, and watched her secure the back door with a key as he put his jacket back on.
“I was looking for some tasty tidbit to use to lure a kitten out of a tree,” he explained. “I was going to ask you for some scraps but the door was locked and I figured…”
“You figured a little Dumpster diving was called for. I see. And what were you going to do if your cat wouldn’t come down for a treat?”
“Hey, it’s not my cat.”
“Finders keepers,” Lillie taunted.
James fell into step beside her as she started down the sidewalk. “I didn’t exactly find it,” he argued. “It found me. It’s not my fault God gave Adam dominion over all the animals.”
“You think that command rubbed off on you?”
“Sure, why not? I just don’t know much about cats.”
Lillie laughed. “Well, you won’t often see their skeletons in trees. Come on. Show me this kitty you can’t handle. Gram has owned more cats than I can count over the years. I’ve always had a way with them.”
Lillie understood the problem before she even saw the kitten. It had instinctively clambered up the tree and was now too frightened to descend. Yes, it would probably eventually get hungry enough to come down on its own but temperatures were still dropping into the forties or lower every night and she hated to let it suffer needlessly.
Therefore, either she or the preacher was going to have to leave the ground in order to stage a rescue. She sincerely hoped it was going to be him.
They stood together beneath the tree and studied the situation. To Lillie’s dismay the trunk was barely six inches in diameter. Worse, it was a Bradford pear, an ornamental tree noted for its brittle nature.
She made a face. “Rats.”
“No, I think it’s a cat,” James quipped.
She gave him a cynical look. “We’ll need a ladder.”
“Why? If you can’t get him to come down I could just give you a little boost and…No?”
“No. Neither of us should climb that tree. Those branches won’t support us.” She saw him glance at her figure, then quickly look away without comment. If he thought she was too hefty, he was good at hiding his opinion.
“I mean,” Lillie said, “this kind of tree is pretty, especially when it blooms in the spring, like now, but it’s also notorious for breakage. I wouldn’t dream of trusting it to hold either of us.”
“Oh.”
“So, do you have a ladder?”
“I think there’s one in the church basement. Wait here. I’ll go see.”
“Bring a flashlight, too,” she called after him.
“Right.”
Watching him jog away toward the old rock church, she was taken by how well he moved—for an older guy. He must be, what, forty? Maybe forty-five, she concluded, which made him about ten years older than she was. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t James Warner’s mature good looks or even his calling that had impressed her. It was his caring heart. Most of the men she knew would have walked right on by the poor kitten and never even considered rescuing it.
Making good use of her time while she