Chapter 1 

 

Evie

 

I don’t know how I always got roped into training the new volunteers. Maybe they thought because I was friendly and laughed a lot, I would enjoy it. But I would rather have peace and quiet while I volunteered on Saturday morning at the cat shelter. Sometimes, I preferred the company of animals to that of humans. I didn’t have to hide who I was with them. I never said no, though. Hopefully, this person would last longer than the average two weeks.

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As Marjorie walked the new volunteer towards me, I considered him. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, like me. The first thing I noticed was he could follow instructions. Even though it was hot outside, he managed to wear enclosed shoes. Usually, new volunteers turned up in thongs, which meant they couldn’t do any work. They could only watch me instead.

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Stopping, they turned towards a cage as Marjorie explained something to him, allowing me to study him closer. Extending from those work boots were well-tanned, muscular legs, which led up to a nice butt covered in khaki work shorts. I may have been happily single for two years and not on the hunt for a man, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t look and admire.

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Seeing he was here on the weekend, it meant he wanted to be here. Some volunteers who attended during the week were only here to fulfil their community service requirements.

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They continued towards me.

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 “Evie, this is Jesse. He is visiting from America and thought he would fill in some time volunteering.”

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Jesse held out his hand and smiled. I shook it firmly as he said, “Nice to meet you, Evie.”

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“Thanks. You, too,” I replied, trying not to get lost in his blue eyes, which were accentuated by his grey t-shirt.

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“I’ll leave you in Evie’s capable hands,” Marjorie said before walking away.

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“It’s pretty straightforward. We follow the same routine every day,” I said as I entered one of the cat enclosures.

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I took him through the feeding and cleaning routine. He worked beside me and followed every instruction to the letter. It was like he had a photographic memory.

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“How long have you been in Australia?”

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“Three weeks.”

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“Just in Melbourne?” I asked as we started to fill the dry food bowls in the four enclosures at our end of the building.

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“Yeah, it looked like a good place to start. It was voted the world’s most liveable city for seven years in a row.”

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“Wow, I didn’t know that.”

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“And, it has a low population density, which beats living in LA. Three thousand, eight hundred and fifty-eight people per square mile compared to 7,544.”

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“Sounds like you did your research.”

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He raised his head and looked at me before nodding.

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“How long are you staying?”

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“I haven’t decided yet. Maybe a few months.”

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I tried to imagine being able to stay wherever I wanted for however long I wanted. It would never be possible. What sort of job would allow that?

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He asked the next question so quickly I felt like he was trying to deflect the conversation away from himself.

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“How long have you volunteered here for?”

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“Nearly two years.”

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“You must enjoy it.”

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“I do. It’s relaxing. The people are nice; we are like a little family. And I enjoy spending time with the cats.”

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He watched me while I spoke, nodding when I’d finished.

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“See the old ginger cat over there? His name is Mike. He arrived a year after I started.”

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“He’s been here a year?” Jesse asked, sounding surprised.

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“Yes. We are a no-kill shelter. We keep them until they find a home.”

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“Why doesn’t anyone want him?”

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“He has a lot of things going against him, poor boy. His age, for starters. He is thirteen now. People are scared to adopt older animals. All they think about is sickness, cost, and death. But older animals give a lot of love. They are chill and less likely to destroy things, unlike kittens.”

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“How long do cats live for?”

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“Usually, twelve to eighteen years.”

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“So, he has a good few years left?”

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“Yeah. Unfortunately, he doesn’t do himself any favours. When people come to meet the cats, he doesn’t interact with them. He is partially deaf, so has trouble hearing them call his name. He sits and watches while other cats introduce themselves. By the time he is ready to say hello, the people have moved on. We try to tell them to be patient, but they are more interested in friendly cats.”

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“That’s sad,” Jesse said, looking at Mike.

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“It is. But at least he is safe here. And we love him.” I sent an affectionate smile Mike’s way.

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We continued working side-by-side in companionable silence. The cats lounged around, uninterested in our activity. It impressed me how Jesse never stood back to let me do the work. He helped with everything. I was also impressed with how his muscles flexed when he picked up the heavy bags of cat litter with ease.

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When I brought the fresh meat out for the cats, they all jumped to attention. They weaved between our legs meowing, like their sudden desperation would make their food appear in their bowls quicker. One by one, as I put the food in their bowls, they sorted their hierarchy. Mike stood back and waited. I’m sure if cats could roll their eyes, he would have. He knew the food would come, and it didn’t matter if he was first or last. He wasn’t needy.

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When we finished our enclosures, I gave Jesse a smile.

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“Thanks for your help. It’s easier with two of us. Are you ready for the fun part?”

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“Fun part?”

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“Yeah, where we interact with the cats. Do you want to join me?”

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“Sure.”

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“There’s some toys in that basket.”

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He moved towards the basket, looked inside, and then back at me. The way he ran his hand through his thick brown hair gave me the impression he didn’t know what to do. It was an ordinary movement, but I couldn’t help noticing the muscles in his upper arm as his sleeve lifted. What was wrong with me?

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I turned my attention back to the basket. I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, so I said, “Get out one of those sticks with a ribbon on it, and I’ll show you what to do.”

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Smiling at me gratefully, he handed me the toy.

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“Basically, you need to tease them with the ribbon—like this—to get them interested,” I said as I dangled it in Sally’s face. She was black and sleek. To me, she resembled a graceful lady the way she walked, with her head held high and her elongated body swaying. “When they become alert, their eyes will widen. Then, they will start to attack it.”

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Sally grabbed at the ribbon. I pulled it out of her reach, encouraging her to climb the post and chase it. I laughed as she defied gravity, bouncing off the walls to chase the ribbon. When I looked back at Jesse, he was standing next to Mike, patting him, smiling.

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“Does Mike like to play?”

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“Sometimes. Why don’t you give it a try?”

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I watched the pair of them as they played. Mike eagerly reached for the ribbon. When he caught it, he wrestled with it, rolling and biting and clawing. It surprised me how much Mike was interacting with Jesse. Usually, he lost interest after a few minutes. But he played and purred and smooched for at least ten. Jesse was so focused on him, I may as well have not been in the enclosure with them.

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After we had given each of the cats some playtime, I said, “You can go now. That’s it for the day.”

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He started walking to the door. When I didn’t follow, he turned to me.

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“Are you coming?”

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“No, I’m staying for a while. I usually end my visit reading to the cats.”

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His sky-blue eyes widened. “Read to the cats?”

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“Bloody oath,” I said, trying to hold in my grin as he stared at me, scratching his head. I knew what I had just said would confuse him. “It’s an Australian saying. It means, yes, I’m serious.”

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I laughed at him, and his eyes crinkled as he laughed in return.

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“You guys sure have some weird sayings.”

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“You haven’t heard anything yet,” I said, still laughing. “The cats enjoy listening to people read. The rhythmic sound relaxes them. They come and sit with me or on me. It helps them socialise in a non-pressured environment.”

 

“What do you read?”

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I wondered if he was making fun of me, but his face was serious.

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“Harry Potter. But they will listen to anything. We’ve introduced the reading program to the local school. The kids love it. Some don’t have pets at home or have never met a cat. You should see their faces when they’re first introduced; it’s like magic. And the teachers have said how much their reading skills have improved. It’s a win-win.”

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“That’s excellent. Literacy is important; we need to read and write every day. Thirty-two million adults in America are illiterate.” He paused, looking like he wanted to say more.  “I’ll see you next week,” he said instead, turning to leave.

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I watched him walk away. His butt filled his shorts nicely. At least there would be something good to look at if he decided to return next week.