On the fourth day that I awaken in the valley, I am presented with the conundrum of how much water is too much water for my plants and how much is too little. I try counting to ten on each plot of dirt, but the water in my can runs out so quickly that I have to make multiple trips to the little pond for more. It's late morning by the time I finally finish.
When I begin to head back to the cottage to figure out what to do with the rest of my time, I notice a squat woman with copper hair waiting at the edge of my porch. In her hands, is a cardboard box with holes cut from the sides in various spacings and with no degree of precision. I slow my pace to keep some distance from the suspicious package.
"You may want to fertilize that dirt, you know."
What kind of greeting was that? "I'm sorry?"
"Forgive me, but the soil around here has heavy clay sediments. Good dirt is rich brown or almost black," she says as though it were a comment about the weather. "Your plants will need nutrients from the ground. I can sell you some manure from my cows."
"Manure?"
"Yes, cow feces is rich with good nutrients for plants."
This crazy lady came all the way over here to sell me cow poop? Who does that?
"I'll think about that." Maybe if I go along with it, she'll leave me alone?
"Sorry, I completely forgot what I came here for." Crazy Lady laughs to herself. "I want to introduce myself. I'm your neighbor, Marnie. I own the ranch to the south. My barn cat had a litter recently, and I thought a kitten would make a nice welcome present."
Marnie holds out the cardboard box. A box with a living cat inside.
"I'm not sure I have it in the budget right now to care for an animal." I try to motion the box away.
"Oh, she'll mostly take care of herself," Marnie insists. "Cats are good at taking care of the field nice and snakes. All you have to do is keep a water bowl nice and full!"
"Snakes?!" No one told me this place has snakes!
"And you know," Marnie continues on as if she didn't hear me, "if you need some extra cash now and then, you're welcome to forage the woods near my ranch. Pierre will buy whatever you find."
That might actually do me some good, I tell myself. "Thank you."
"Oh, don't you mind that, dear. Now, are you sure you don't want a cat around?"
I glance around the farm. The exposed earth from my garden is the only real sign of life aside from me. Soon, I'll have plants talk to and tell my troubles, but they will whither away just as quickly. It could be nice to have a small companion to keep me company. Not to mention to get rid of the snakes.
"You know, what? Maybe I could use an extra set of eyes on this place," I admit finally.
"Oh, good! Oh, good!" Marnie places the box in my hands, and it takes me a moment to adjust to the movement of weight as the cat paces. "What will you name her?"
"Dottie," I answer immediately, "like the cat on Four Sleeping Gentlemen."
"Oh? I guess I haven't heard of that movie."
"I used to watch it with my--" I stop short. I used to watch it with my maid. I would beg her to sit with me any chance she could spare. She was the only person home most days. "With my grandpa," I finish.
"Oh, I bet you miss him very much." The sympathy in Marnie's voice is thick and, while annoying, very genuine.
Something chokes me as I try to speak. "Yeah, I do."
The busybody seems to take this as a cue to leave. She mumbles something about getting back to her chickens and heads back toward the main road. I watch her leave for no other reason than I have no idea what to do next. Only a meow from Dottie breaks me from my trance.
"I suppose that you would like your freedom?" I ask the cat as I set the box on the porch and peel back the folded cardboard.
Dottie, as it turns out, is an orange and yellow striped cat. This makes her name even more suitable for my purposes. Now, no one will assume I named her after something as silly as her fur. My cat is named after a true hero.
As I watch Dottie pace back and forth around my feet, I realize that I know nothing about cats or caring for them. There seems to be a pattern forming when it relates to things I know nothing about. I never thought of myself as this ignorant of the world. I mean, there were things I knew that I didn't understand like how to drive or why my parents wouldn't let me go to school, but there is so much more that never even knew I did not know.
With nothing left to do on the farm and no parents to tell me no, I make for the library. Finishing off the last slice of cold pizza as I walk, I find myself wondering if Elliot will be there again. If he really is a writer, then it makes sense for him to spend a good bit of time there. I have to push away the thought when my cheeks begin to feel warm.
Inside the cowboy-librarian sits at the entrance blandly flipping the pages of an old book. He doesn't look up until I'm right in front of his desk and loudly clearing my throat.
"How can I help?" He sounds bored with disinterest.
"I was wondering if you have any books on caring for animals. Like cats specifically?" I knot my fingers together as I talk in an attempt to ease the tension inside.
Cowboy-Librarian points to a shelf lazily. I begin to fill my little table up with books on pet training, cat breeds, and helping your pet live its best organic life. On my third book dump, I pass a section on parenting that catches my eye, and I pull out a book called If Pregnancy Were Childsplay. Not the best of titles, but it has to have more than the little pamphlet Dr. Harvey gave me.
I begin the same routine of reading headings and charts, but every time I attempt to read more than a paragraph of actual text, I find myself unable to recall what I've just read. I give up the Parenting book halfway through the section highlighting all the wonderful changes that I can expect in my breasts -- like milk just spewing out without warning -- and opt for one of the cat books with colorful pictures. When I spy a cat that looks like Dottie I force myself to begin reading the small print beneath.
"My, your devotion to research puts me to shame."
"Holy Yabba, you scared me!" I clutch my chest as my heart beats faster than a jet. Realizing what book I have sitting on my already-read-pile, I slam the picture book closed and place it on top pretending to make space for my guest.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." Elliot's brown eyes look over me in worry. "I just came by to see how you're settling in. I was new in Pelican not too long ago. I know that it can be hard to make friends when some people have known each other their entire lives."
"I'm just new to the whole friend thing in general, so I'm not really sure," I admit.
Elliot nods solemnly before gesturing to the books on my desk and hopefully just the ones about cats. "I guess Marnie offered you a warm welcome?"
"How did you know?"
"She also struggles to make friends, or so I've gathered. I think animals make more sense to her, and she gives newcomers something that she hopes will bridge that gap. My cat ran away three days after I bought it a brand new bowl."
I try not to laugh at the pout on Elliot's lips. "I'm so sorry. That must have been awful."
"Not really," Elliot says. "It turns out I'm allergic anyways."
Covering a laugh behind my hand I feel something loosen in my chest. Elliot must really be a god. It seems like I always feel better in his presence. Our eyes lock for just the faintest of moments before the door to the library bursts in.
"Alex, I told you already, I'm not catching that hideous gridball again. I chipped a nail last time."
Elliot shifts his hair and moves closer to me. "Oh, here we go."
"Huh?" I ask, but the god just puts a finger to his lips and gestures toward the front desk.
"But you dragged me into the library," a male voice groans. "It's only fair. I'm never gonna go pro if I can't practice."
"You're never going to go pro if you don't raise your college entrance scores. Plus I'm just dropping off some lame books for Emily. Then you owe me a lounge at the beach remember?" This voice is female and very snarky.
The male groans again. "It's still cold at the beach; why do you want to lay around in the cold?"
Now, the girl sighs. "Next week is my birthday, remember? I'm getting a new strapless top for my party and my skin tone won't look good if I don't start tanning now. Now, let's go!"
Elliot follows the pair with brown eyes until the door slams shut behind them. "I've been using a few of the flirtationships around town as a bit of reference for my novel." A mischievous grin plays on his cheeks.
"What's a flirtationship?"
"It's when everyone else knows that you're meant to be except the two of you," Elliot explains cooly.
"Who else is in a flirtationship?" I ask eagerly.
The writer smirks and looks down at me from his vantage point of standing. "Well, I can't tell you that, Junox."
"Why not?" I cross my arms.
"Because I want to see how things play out when a wild card comes to town."
And I'm guessing that wild card is me.