James felt relieved when he spotted Wanda’s rusty green Dodge resting in its favorite spot at the back of the lot. He had heard about her husband’s death a couple of weeks ago and hadn’t seen her at the diner since. Wanda’s Place was as reliable as the sunrise, the eggs were always piping and the bacon always crisp. He pushed the squeaky screen door open, wiped his boots on the bleached welcome mat and headed for his favorite stool, the one by the wall under the Coca Cola clock at the end of the no smoking section. A relatively recent concession Wanda had made just for him.
The swinging doors that led into the kitchen opened without their usual burst. Wanda moved through them gingerly, as if avoiding contact with a bruise.
“Hey there, honey, Good to see ya.” She grabbed one of the creamy mugs that were stacked to the left of the coffee pot and set it in front of him. Normally, she’d hit the punch line before she finished pouring, but today was different.
“Wanda, I just want to tell you how sorry I am.”
“No, James, they’ll be none of that.” She shook her head. “I know ya are and if you say any more, you’ll just get me going again.” She sighed slowly and reached a plump hand into her faded blouse to snatch a hankie. She dabbed at the blotchy skin by her once lively blue eyes. “It’s just that I don’t know who to fuss over now.”
She moved off to take care of another customer, leaving James with his thoughts. He held the mug with both hands and blew the steam softly. Wanda had ministered to Ed for longer than James had been alive. She grumbled about it, sure, but everyone knew that’s what fueled her. Fussing over people.
Late for a meeting, he polished off his scrambled eggs, took one more sip of coffee and tipped his cap to Wanda on the way out. Gravel crunched under the tires of his muddy red pickup as he sped up to the warehouse. He strode around to the side door, jangling his keys. His boots clumped heavily on the plank steps, nearly drowning out the pitiful mewling. He stopped short, keys in mid air.
“Meew, meew.” A hoarse, high-pitched call crept up through the steps.
“What the hell?” James jumped off the side and peered underneath. Sunlight stole through the cracks in the wood, throwing splotches of light into the small space. Perched on a pile of twigs was the tiniest kitten, its huge triangle ears threatening to topple it head first.
“Meew.” It squeaked again, its small fuzzy body shaking with the exertion.
James dropped to his belly and reached in slowly, crooning “It’s okay, little one, I’m not going to hurt you.” He scooped the kitten up with one gentle swipe of his sturdy paw and drew her out into the welcoming sunshine. He stroked the orange stripes of her downy fur with his other hand and her trembling began to subside. His meeting temporarily forgotten, he leaned back against the steps and began to inspect his new friend. Her green eyes looked clear, and except for some leaves and a bit of dirt, she seemed pretty clean. Well, her motor works, that’s for sure. He smiled to himself as she cranked up her contentment to a rolling purr. She was so young, so needy; she’d have to have a home where loving attention flowed freely.
She battled with his bootlaces as he hurried through his meeting. He knew what to do. Less than an hour later, for the second time that day, James was relieved to see that rusty, green Dodge.
