Chapter Thirteen

I chastised myself all evening because of the thoughts I'd had about Susannah. It was not right of me to have such thoughts about her…or any woman, for that matter.

But Susannah was the only woman -or girl really- that I'd ever really gotten to know, and she was the only girl I'd ever liked in an inappropriate way.

There. I have admitted it. I realized as soon as I thought about not "giving in" to desires that I must have liked her as a little more than a mere friend.

I tried to tell myself during that night -and the next morning after Susannah had left for school- that I should not have interfered with her "date." After all, it was interfering that made me realize how I really felt about her.

Tad being too forward was just my excuse for interfering. I really interfered, because, I will admit it, I wanted to be the one to kiss her like that. I know it is wrong to even desire such things, but I could not deny it -at least not to myself.

It was wrong, wrong, wrong. If I had had those thoughts about a woman in 1850, my father would have been very angry with me.

She was late getting home from school. I was afraid that she'd gone on another date with Tad, but somehow I doubted it. Not after the argument we'd had the night before.

As it would turn out, Susannah had not been on a date with Tad. I knew because he came to the house with his father. I looked them over. I was not impressed. The boy, now that I had better inspection of him, was no suitable for Susannah. He looked slightly stupid.

I went back to the room I shared with Susannah. I dematerialized but stayed in the room. I did not want to anger Susannah by being there while Tad was there.

I'd originally been planning to apologize to her for our argument, but I didn't think it was a wise decision with Tad within the vicinity.

She came home a little while later. She came upstairs to our room, looking very annoyed, but I don't think she was annoyed with me. At first, for a fleeting moment, I thought that maybe she was annoyed that Tad and his father were there, but I later discovered that it was only part of the problem.

She had something in a plastic bag. She emptied its contents -a plastic box and a bag of something called cat litter and a bunch of small cans with pictures of cats on them- and then took something else out of another bag, one of the bags she'd apparently purchased for her own use, one of the bags she'd held in great reverence, much like Maria and her stupid bonnet -only Susannah didn't seem to be as haughty as Maria. Susannah, I suspected, was actually very nice under her tough exterior.

I looked closely at the thing she had removed from the bag. It was some sort of orange animal. Was it a cat?

"What is that?" I asked. I'm afraid I was gawking at the thing. It was a truly strange creature.

"It's a cat. I didn't have any choice. It's just until I find a home for it," she said.

I was dubious. I shook my head. "Are you sure it's a cat? It doesn't look like any cat I've ever seen. It looks more like … what do they call them? Those small horses. Oh yes, a pony."

"I'm sure it's a cat." She looked preoccupied. "Listen, Jesse," she said, "I'm kind of in a jam here."

I looked at the cat. "I can see that," I said.

"Not about the cat. It's about Tad."

I should have known. I suddenly felt protective… and, I will admit, I felt a little jealous, too. I tried not to let my emotions show. I knew she would approve of neither my protectiveness nor my jealousy.

"He's downstairs with his father. They want me to come over for dinner, and I'm not going to be able to get out of it," she said.

I muttered some very unpleasant things in Spanish. I was very glad at that moment that Susannah didn't know or speak the language.

"The thing is, I've found out some things about Mr. Beaumont…things that make me…well, nervous. So, could you, um, do me a favor?"

I straightened, surprised. She didn't ask me to do favors very often; she mostly tried to deter me from doing things for her.

I, of course, wouldn't mind doing things for her…

"Of course, querida," I said. I regretted using that word. Well, it was not really the word -it only meant sweetheart- but rather it was the tone I always seemed to apply to the word. She didn't know what the word meant, and for that I was thankful, but she could hear just like most other people, and I was afraid she'd sense the tone I used for that word.

"Look, if I'm not back by midnight, can you just let Father Dominic know that he should probably call the police?"

I was surprised. I didn't think she'd want me to speak to the priest. I knew that he would not approve of the fact that I shared a room with her.

"You want me to speak to the priest?" I asked, just to make sure I'd heard her correctly.

I looked at her. She was busy gathering supplies: a flashlight, some metal tools, gloves, and a pencil. "Yes, I do," she said.

"But Susannah, if he's dangerous, this man, why are you-" I started, but I didn't get to finish the sentence because Susannah's mother walked into the room.

Helen Ackerman, Susannah's mother was completely oblivious to the danger her daughter was putting herself into by leaving with that man and his son. "Suze, you decent?" she asked. I didn't know exactly what she had meant by that, but it was certainly nothing to do with preventing Susannah from being harmed.

"Yeah, Mom," Susannah said, glancing at me.

For the first time, as I looked at her face, I realized how worried she was. I wouldn't go to the priest if she was not home by midnight -I'd go to Father Dominic immediately after she left.

I dematerialized, leaving Susannah in private with her mother, but I could still hear what she was saying to her mother. I heard her lie to her mother. I listened to them as they spoke with one another, and realized why Susannah lied to her mother: she loved her and didn't want to disturb the woman's happiness.

I'm sorry to say that, for that reason, I'd found yet another reason to care for her. Susannah, not Mrs. Ackerman.