Page 44 of Full Contact

“She has you pinned,” Trier said.

“I was about to get comfortable. She saved me the trouble.”

He watched her for a while. “There’s coffee in the cabinet over the machine,” he said. “It’s better than what you drink at the office. The cupboard third from the left has crackers and a jar of the peanut butter Anna buys. Eat something.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve been awake since one. Eat.”

The boarding call came through the phone, garbled the way they always are. Trier glanced up at something off-screen, then back.

“I land at eleven ten, your time,” he said. “Stay until I’m back. Please.”

“I’ll be here.”

He looked at me for a second longer. Then he nodded, once, and the screen went dark.

I put the phone down. The lamp was still on, while the morning light through the blinds was getting stronger. Peaches lay against my leg, breathing softly.

Chapter seven

Trier

Ilet myself in a little after noon and stood in the entryway, listening. The TV was off, and I couldn’t hear anyone talking. Anna’s door was closed at the end of the hall. I set my bag down beside my sneakers and eased the front door shut behind me.

I found Mark asleep at the end of the couch nearest the lamp. His shoes were off, lined up under the coffee table. His head had slipped sideways against the cushion, and Peaches lay stretched along his leg. One of his hands rested beside her, palm up along the edge of the cushion, positioned to catch her if she slid into the gap.

I crossed the room quietly and crouched beside the couch.

Peaches raised her head and watched me. Her eyes were clear. The shaved patch on her foreleg looked worse than it was, a pale rectangle in the orange. I offered my fingers, and she pushed her cheek against them, slow and deliberate, the way she did when everything was in order.

I exhaled. “Hello, sweetheart,” I said, very quietly.

She pressed harder against my hand, then lowered her head to Mark’s leg and closed her eyes.

I stayed crouched there longer than my knees appreciated. Her side rose and fell, easy and regular.

I took in the rest of the room. A water glass sat on a coaster at Mark’s elbow. The hospital paperwork was stacked square on the kitchen counter with a pen across it. He wore a hoodie, and it had a wide creased patch low on one side where Peaches must have been lying earlier. By the sink, a plate held toast crumbs.

I had spent the entire flight wishing I was already home.

Mark’s neck was bent at an uncomfortable angle against the cushion. His hair was flattened on one side, and his breathing was deep and even, slower than Peaches’s.

I reached over and switched off the lamp. Mark stirred at the click, and I placed my hand on his shoulder before he could get up.

He woke the rest of the way and looked at Peaches first, then looked up at me.

“You’re home.”

“Eleven ten, as advertised.”

“How was the flight?”

“Ordinary. Did she eat again?”

He smiled a little, still coming up out of sleep. “At nine. Half the dish. Litter box at nine forty, everything normal. Dr. Feld’s office called when they opened. She’s seen the hospital report, and she wants Peaches in Friday morning for a recheck.” He nodded toward the counter. “It’s all written down.”

I walked over to the counter and read the notes. Mark’s handwriting was neat and even, times written down the left margin like a game log. Peaches stepped down from the couch by way of the coffee table, crossed the room, and rubbed against my knee while I read. I reached down and stroked the length of her back.