Nobody Can Say It's You

9

Hadley got out her guitar and a pencil and a tablet. She really did want to contribute to Anna's website. 

She'd write a song, she thought. That could be her volunteer contribution to Anna's new project. She fumbled around with a few chords. Suddenly, inspiration struck.

I dreamed last night I saw you there.

The moonlight lit your silky hair

Your face was pale. Your skin so cold.

And here I sit, so far from home.

I saw you standing by the fence.

The mourning dove  in woodland dense,

His call is low. It brings me peace.

I hope that you have found true rest.

I cannot come to hold you near.

So far away from you, my dear.

You come to me when fires die.

My love burns true on love's true pyre.

The meadows bloom. The spring has come.

And I will make my way back home

To mountain peaks that I love so.

But you have left, dear. I'm alone.

The fever came. It would not leave.

And now my bitter heart just grieves.

For your sweet kiss, I can but pine.

I walk out to your grave and cry.

Sweet mountain girl, you walk these pines.

Your spirit still in me resides.

I call your name deep in the night.

But you don't answer. I just cry.

No, you don't answer. I just cry.

Not bad for a beginner, she thought. 

She'd ask Hobie what he thought. He could spruce it up for her. Make it a zinger the kids would love to read. Maybe he'd play it, and Anna could make a video. 

Or better yet, Hadley thought, she could make a video. She had mastered Harry's old camera. Well, if not mastered it, at least she'd gotten good enough at videoing not to make the viewer feel like they were riding on a rickety, old rollercoaster. 

Yes, she thought, I'll make a video. 

Maybe the Speckled Pups would agree to be on it, too. She'd ask her nephew, Skip. That would be a nice addition to her library's website.

Onus sat on his haunches staring holes right through her.

"Okay," she said, reaching for his favorite toy.

It was a short piece of cane pole with a string and a fuzzy worm on the end. All Hadley had to do was wiggle that pole and make the worm dance. Onus would come chasing it down from wherever he was in the house because the worm made a squeaky noise when it was jiggled.

Like a panther, Onus rounded the sofa and pounced on the worm. Hadley played with him for a few minutes.

"I'm beat," she said. "I hope you've had enough of this. I sure have. Time for bed."

Onus sat down and watched her exit the den.

"All right, I give in," Hadley said, leaving her bedroom door opened. "But remember, that pillow's mine. The side of the bed's yours, and you can even have the other pillow. But the pillow on the right side is all mine. Dibs. Dibs. Dibs. I got dibs on that one. You hear me?"

It was early. The light had not filtered into her bedroom. She felt two paws kneading her cheek. She opened her eyes. Was it the middle of the night? It felt like it. The grit in her eyes told her she'd not been asleep a full eight hours.

"What's this, old bird," Hadley said. "Are you my new alarm clock? What time is it? Five-thirty! Onus, it's not even six o'clock, and here you are using me for your 'are you up, old gal' punching bag! Make that punching cheek. Okay, okay! You out of dry food? What is it? I'm trying to figure it out. Where's the fire! I'm getting up, already!"

That must have been it. The cat's bowl looked as if it had been licked clean.

"Dry food, canned food. You are high-maintenance, you know that?" Hadley said.

Onus half-closed his eyes.

"And impatient, too!" said Hadley.

She filled his bowl of kibbles.

"Guess while I'm at it, I might as well go the whole nine yards. Here, pretty kitty. Fresh water in a sparkling clean bowl.

Onus purred. He hunched over his bowl and Hadley heard little crunching sounds.

All was right with the world.