“Father’s gone.”

My mother was inconsolable.

The cat had escaped into the rainy night 12 hours earlier and, when he hadn’t returned by daybreak, she, of course, called me.

“You’re the one that can reason with him. Your father and I don’t speak ‘cat.'”

So there I was, wandering the river bank behind the house, rain pouring down, looking up into the trees, calling out.

“Daaaady …. DAAAA-dy … come on out. We need you to come home. Come on, Daddy.”

Daddy was short for Father, the cat’s real name, which was a nod to Father Wells, who had rescued Daddy’s mother from the side of the road. Father Wells didn’t know the little girl was with child – or children, as it turned out – and so a litter of six was born. Gradually he’d given each baby a good home to Parishioners. Ours was the last to be adopted.

It made perfect sense three years ago, what with the girls and I living here after Bernie and I separated. They helped out with feedings and sat about the house, reading and petting and spoiling the thing.

Now, it seems, Father’s a bit much for the folks to handle.

“Daddy’s on the loose,” I said to Bernie as he shook his jacket off. I heard the mayor’s heels clicking on the driveway before I saw her come to the door behind him. She held out her hand.

“Elyse is it? Charlotte Granger. Thanks for agreeing to see us today.”

I knew that I hadn’t agreed to see anyone, so it was a bit of a relief when Mother came to the door.

“Ah, Mayor Granger, so good of you to come by. Bit of a cat emergency going on here today, I’m afraid. Elyse is helping us find our little lost tabby. Moira Hughes. I’m her mother. And this,” she said as she presented my father. “This is Charles.”

“Charmed,” he said, shaking the mayor’s hand. “Please come in.”

As Bernie handed me his coat and umbrella, I couldn’t help but feel a pang in the pit of my stomach. Something was off about him. Maybe I’ve just been dating a zygote for too long, but he looked very, very old to me.

“You … and Carson, eh?” he said nervously and Mother and Father escorted the mayor into the sitting room.

Oh my God, he knows!

I nodded. “Yeah … sorta. Kinda. Well, I really don’t know what it is, but we spend time together. That’s about all.”

And then Bernie did something he never did in the last five years of our marriage. He smiled.

“That’s not what I hear.”

And I did something I didn’t do much of in the last five years of our marriage either. I smiled back.

My mother’s voice echoed through the foyer. “Elyse! ELYSE, darling, are you joining us?”

Bernie nodded. “I had forgotten about that voice.”

And I laughed, in spite of myself.