The Cats of Tanglewood Forest by Charles De Lint Read Free Book Online Page A

all came flooding back. Her throat closed up and her eyes filled with tears. Sitting up, she wiped at them with a corner of the blanket.
    The Welches’ house was quiet. Glancing out the window, she saw that it was still very early. She got up and tiptoed into the kitchen, then out onto the porch. A barn cat jumped down from the railing, startling her. It gave her a long, thoughtful look,then slipped around the corner of the house. Lillian watched it go.
    She thought about her strange dream: the circle of cats around the beech tree and the talking animals. The snakebite. She felt vaguely guilty, as though this were somehow her fault, that
she
should have been the snakebit one.
    If only the dream
had
been real. She’d much rather be trapped in the shape of a cat if it meant that Aunt would still be alive.
    She heard the door open behind her. Harlene joined her, putting an arm around Lillian’s shoulders.
    “How are you doing, hon?” she asked.
    “I…” Lillian had to swallow hard before she could go on. “It… it doesn’t feel real.”
    Harlene nodded. “It’s going to be like that for a long time.”
    “But how will I manage without Aunt? Aunt was everything.”
    “I know. But we’ll take good care of you. I promise.”
    This felt all wrong.
Aunt
took care of her. She and Aunt helped each other.
    “I’d better go home,” Lillian said. “I’ve got chores.”
    “No, you don’t. Earl talked to the Creek aunts. Acouple of their boys are going to look after things for the next few days. We’ll see what happens after that. You can’t be living way up there all on your own, Lillian.”
    A shiver crawled up Lillian’s spine. Leave the farm? The thought was unbearable, so she decided to ignore Harlene’s last comment.
    “What—what about Aunt?”
    “Earl’s gone into town to talk to the preacher. We’ll lay her to rest with your mama and papa, up at the top of the hill. The Creek boys have offered to dig the grave.”
    “Where’s Aunt now?”
    “Earl said he laid her out in the parlor.”
    It had been a relief to let Harlene and Earl take over, but now Lillian felt totally powerless. She was like a leaf caught in an eddy, turning ’round and ’round alongside the shore.
    She thought about poor Aunt lying all alone in the parlor.
    “Can I go see her?” she asked.
    “Of course you can, hon. I’ll go up with you, and we can pick out something pretty for your Aunt Franto wear. But before we go, I need to see to the livestock.” She cocked her head. “Will you help?”
    Lillian nodded. What else could she do?

    The day they laid Aunt to rest started out sunny, but by the time they’d gathered in the small family plot on the hill above the Kindred farm, the skies had clouded over and threatened rain. Harlene and Earl Welch stood beside Lillian at the graveside. Lillian wore her good dress, and even had shoes on her feet. Preacher Bartholomew stood at the head of the grave, his Bible open in his hands.
    A few other townsfolk and neighbors had made the long hike up to the farm. The Mabes, who lived a few farms over. Charley Smith from the general store. John Durrow and his son Jimmy, who grazed their cattle on the lower pastures near the road to town. Agnes Nash, who looked after the town’s library. Humble Johnson, a banjo player who led the dances at the grange.
    Standing behind them were the extended families of the Creeks—dark-skinned men in buckskin and denim, the women in long, embroidered black skirts,with their hair in braids. The aunts were in front, all except for Aunt Nancy, the oldest. She stood at the edge of the forest, half-hidden in shadow, her somber gaze never straying from Lillian.

    At any other time her attention would have made Lillian nervous. No one knew Aunt Nancy’s age. It was said that there’d been a Nancy Creek living inthese hills when the white men first came from the east and that she’d still be here long after they were gone. Lillian didn’t know anything