Two Gifts

Silver McPhee woke from a long nap under the magnolia tree in the back garden. She stretched languorously, arching her spine as she yawned. The sun had dipped below the blue ridge, and rich indigo shades of twilight merged and blended with the last orange rays. The Moon would rise soon, and with it all the scurrying creatures of the night.

She washed her paw, listening as the cows lowed softly in the pastures below. An owl hooted from the barn roof, preparing to leave for a night on the hunt. In the house, the family sat around the long farmhouse table, eating baked chicken. It smelled good to Silver, she padded over to the window for a better sniff.

Woman was spooning mashed potatoes and gravy out onto the kids plates, while Man chomped on a corn cob. Such messy eaters, humans. She thought about scratching at the glass, Lucy was bound to come and open the window, dropping pieces of chicken onto the floor for Silver McPhee to eat. But Lucy wasn’t here anymore, her place at the table unset, the chair tucked under. If she miaowed now Man would yell and bang on the glass to scare her away. He had never liked her much.

Silver McPhee leapt gracefully from the trash can to the porch roof, and from there onto the window box. This was the girl’s room, her favorite spot just there on the padded window seat, basking in the afternoon sun. The twin beds were made, patchwork quilts in rainbow colors folded neatly at the bottom, their nightgowns tucked under the pillows. Some nights Lucy had snuck down after lights out and carried her upstairs to sleep on her pillow. She had been little then, a small white snowball of fur and claws. Sometimes the boys were too rough, pulling her tail or picking her up by her tummy. She would lash out at them, a quick swipe so they knew not to do it again. But Silver McPhee had never had to discipline Lucy. The girl was always gentle.

The room looked sad without her stuffed toys on the shelf, her cheerful crayon artwork taken down from the wall behind her bed. It felt like she had never existed, the family carrying on, her space unfilled. Unforgotten, but hidden from sight. The memory too painful, perhaps.

Silver McPhee went across the roof and skirted around the outbuildings towards the big barn. The chicken bones might not have made it out to the trash yet, but the barn was always a good spot to find a tasty morsel or two.

Inside it was dark, the warm smell of manure and drying hay stronger here. Silver McPhee moved stealthily through the shadows, her shoulders low as she prowled between the bales of straw, ears pricked for the scuttle of the field mice. A rustling sound, near the combine harvester. She crept forwards, slowly, pupils widening as she focused all her attention on the source of the sound. Her tail swished in excitement, her whole body a tightly coiled spring of boundless potential energy.

Pounce! The mouse squeaked once, cut short as Silver McPhee bit deep into the soft fur at the back of its neck. It hung from her mouth like a toy, and she shook it violently, enjoying the sensation and the smell of its fear and blood. When it stopped moving she lost interest, dropping it to the dusty floor, heading out to the fields without a backwards glance.

Across the cornfields the ground sloped away towards the pastures, and from there through a narrow patch of woodland. At the lowest point lay the stream. That was where Silver McPhee was headed now, a ghostly white blur as she passed through the tall corn. Past the cows, sleeping in the corner, their calves snuggled alongside them. On cold nights Silver McPhee had joined them, pressed up against their warm flanks. Tonight was pleasant, though, a faint breeze rippling the leaves as she moved on through the gap in the fence.

She stepped carefully along the slippery stones at the edge of the stream. The water gurgled quickly down towards the drainage pipe, disappearing into the blackness before passing underground and reappearing on the other side. In the Spring it had been a raging torrent from all the thunderstorms, but now it was barely a trickle, and Silver McPhee found a path to the edge without getting her paws wet. She looked inside, hesitating.

“Is that you, Silver?” Lucy whispered from inside the hole. “Have you found me?”

Silver McPhee wriggled her butt, leaping across the water and into the pipe. She purred as she rubbed up against her young mistress.

“I missed you so much!” Lucy said, burying her face in the cat’s soft, white fur. “It’s so cold and scary down here. I’m alone, always alone.”

Silver McPhee curled up against the girl, butting her hand gently for more strokes.

“I’m so glad you’re here with me, Silver. It isn’t so scary with you.” They sat in silence for a while, the little girl and her cat. At some point Lucy began to cry, her tears dripping onto Silver McPhee’s head. The cat got to her feet.

“Are you leaving now, Silver?” Lucy asked. “I wish you wouldn’t. The daytime is the worst. I hear Daddy cutting the hay or ploughing, and I shout out for him to tell him I'm here, but he never hears me. Why don’t they come find me, Silver? Why won’t they come take me home?”

The cat licked her paw, uncomfortable with the outburst of emotion. Humans could be so strange.

Lucy reached out, placing something around the cat’s neck. “Can you take this to them, Silver? Maybe if you give them my necklace they’ll come find me. Maybe they’ll remember me again.”

Silver McPhee miaowed, then leapt onto the riverbank, swishing her way back across the fields as the sky lightened with the coming dawn. As she headed back into the barn she remembered the mouse, and scooped it up by the tail, carrying it carefully to the backdoor of the farmhouse.

She bent down, carefully placing the small creature on the doorstep, where she had always left her gifts for Lucy in the past. As she bent her head down, the silver necklace slipped from her neck, settling beside the dead rodent. Two gifts, this time.

Silver McPhee walked slowly back to the rosebush, sleepy now. As she lay down, curling herself in a ball on the damp earth, the first rays of sunlight rose above the barn. As the bright light touched her, she dissolved into the mist. It was time for another nap.