My Emmy

The cat remained still, almost too still, under the oak tree in my front yard, observing me as it has for the past three days. Siamese, of that I am sure, only because Emmy favored them. Not me. I tolerated them only for her. A dog person myself, I always had one until recently. I only owned one at a time, all King Charles Spaniels, all male (neutered of course), and all named Justin. Always wanted a son named Justin, but it never happened. No daughters either. Just as well, I suppose, Emmy hated that I wanted her named Justine. 

"Git!" I yelled. "Go home!" I had nothing to throw toward it, and it wasn't impressed with my commands anyway. Just sat there watching me retrieve my paper. Same place it sat yesterday and the day before. A place Emmy favored sitting on hot summer afternoons. Someone nearby had to own it. Cats like that don't become strays. Like Emmy's, they rarely if ever got outside. At least, I've never seen strays like that and I've been around a long time. Longer now than I want.

I wanted that cat gone. Didn't understand why the damn thing showed up like it did. I had other neighbors. Too many, in fact. It could go haunt them instead of stirring things up for me. The only cat I wanted gone worse was Sparkles, and that was the last cat Emmy had before she died. Being old itself, it didn't last but about a year after. Each day with that cat reminded me of my Emmy and the gaping hole left from her passing. I had forgotten that hole over the years. Didn't realize I even had it until I met Emmy. She'd filled it, made it whole, made ME whole.

***

Oh, was she spirited. Independent. Fierce. Intelligent. And oh so stubborn. My Emmaline Johnson took no foolishness from me. Gave me no quarter from the moment we met. "If you're gonna marry me, Howard Bertram, then you're gonna learn to like cats! No man's gonna tell me I can't have 'em." And there she stood, arms crossed, eye to chest with me. As immovable and formidable as the Rocky Mountains. As soft as rabbit fur.

Marry her I did. Just as soon as I could. Friends and family pitched in to give us a nice honeymoon at Millwood Lake Resort. A secluded cabin, real nice and real scenic awaited us. The best wedding gift we got. The finest memories to last all our years. We didn't have the money ourselves at the time as I only worked at the steel mill a few months. We figured on a honeymoon a year or so down the road.

After the reception we went straight there. I was a bit nervous and a whole lot of excited. This would be the first for both of us. We got out of the car and I went to pick up Emmy to do the 'carrying across the threshold' thing. But she danced out of my reach.

"Don't think for a second, Howard Bertram, that just 'cause I married you I am going to make this easy," she said, smiling impishly. "You ain't caught me these past few years. You're still gonna have to catch me now." And off she took.

Well I had more incentive to now, that was for sure, and I was fairly fleet of foot. Even so, that girl ran fast. Always did. Lithe like a wildcat and light as a feather on her feet. Each time I thought I had her, she'd elude me; and laugh a laugh more lighthearted than any songbird – one that lifted my heart then and one that does now during lonely moments of reflection. The only thing in my favor, I realized, is that she did want to be caught or I'd still be chasing her. After that, fortunately, I found her much easier to catch.

*

A few years into our marriage, I came home from work and Justin met me at the door as always, tail wagging, bouncing back and forth, and wearing, of all things, a blue bib. I told him what a good boy he was and reached for the bib, but he jumped away thinking we were playing.

Then Emmy came around the corner carrying a very unhappy Pebbles, who sported a pink bib and made every effort to claw her way out of it. "Emmy, what's all this?"

"This would've been easier if you'd make friends with my cat. I do with your dog."

"My dog loves you. Well, he pretty much loves everybody, and you have to love Justin. He doesn't give you a choice. Your cat on the other hand hates me and that's what I like most about her. She wants nothing to do with me."

Emmy sighed. "Well, I'd hoped for a much different outcome for the surprise."

"Sur–." Then it hit me. I snatched Emmy up in my arms, much to the chagrin of Pebbles who redoubled her efforts, freeing herself from Emmy's arms and running off yowling in displeasure; and pulled her close. "You must think I'm pretty thick-headed."

"The thickest."

I kissed her, long and hard. "So a little Justin or Justine, eh?"

"We will NEVER have a daughter named Justine, you hear me Howard Bertram!"

Then a few months later I got a call at work. Emmy sobbing at the other end, "I'm bleeding Howard! Oh God it hurts…"

We lost the baby. The doctor sedated Emmy and assured me she'd be ok. They wanted to run some tests, see if they could determine what happened.

I brought her home after a few days. The doctors said that while we might be able to have children, Emmy had a higher than average chance of miscarriages because of a weak cervix. We didn't say much coming home. Emmy sort of withdrew into herself, and I didn't push. 

Barely eating, she stayed in bed for days. I did the best I knew how. I made dinner, made sure she drank fluids, held her quietly while she cried and processed things, and took care of Justin and Pebbles. And I prayed. I prayed to God day and night to help my Emmy.

And then one day, finally, she softly said, "I can't give you Justin, Howard, I can't."

I ran my hand gently through her hair. "The doctor said…"

"No, Howard, you don't understand. I CAN'T. I can't go through that again. My God. Even the possibility of going through that again petrifies me! All that keeps me together now is knowing we will meet our baby in heaven. But I hate that our baby is in His arms and not ours. Please Howard! You have to understand that I just can't." She fell into my arms, sobbing.

I held her for a long time, again saying nothing. Honestly, I didn't know what to say. But I did understand. Not in the way it tormented her maybe, but it left me with my own demons. My own 'What Ifs.' Then I kissed her on the cheek and said,  "Emmy, you are all I really want. You are what's important. What we have is important, not what we can't. We've had a family for years. You have your cat, Pebbles; and I have my dog, Justin. They need our love and give us theirs. They are our kids."

I'm not saying it helped. Hell, it might've made things worse; but I said no more and just loved her through it. Things got better again after a while, but I think I'd see it on Emmy's face from time to time when she didn't know I noticed. As things settled, we spoke more openly about what happened and decided not to have children. I went to the doctor and had myself neutered. Then I came home, grabbed a bag of frozen peas, and apologized to Justin for making him go through it. That made Emmy laugh. Not the songbird laugh, but one that warmed me anyway just hearing it. One that made me know we'd be ok.

*

Then the steel mill closed. We had no warning and I arrived to see my co-workers milling about outside the plant. Confused and feeling betrayed, I drove home.

Emmy met me at the door, fear and concern written on her face. "Howard, is everything ok? Why are –"

"They closed the plant, Emmy. No warning. Nothing but a sign on a fence." I sat on the couch and put my head in my hands. "What are we going to do?" I wanted to put up a brave front, but I felt the wetness in the corners of my eyes.

Emmy cupped my hand in hers and looked into my eyes. Somehow that always calmed me and she knew it. "We are going to be fine. I know that because I know no man could ever love me the way you do. Not even close. You will find something. I have faith in you."

My Emmy did have faith. Tons of it. Mostly in God as it should be, but in me as well. I knew looking in her eyes I'd figure it out somehow. For her.

I did.

*

Then Emmy's back started hurting. A dull ache originally, it nagged her more and more frequently until pain relievers had little effect. She lost a lot of weight along with her appetite. "I'm ok," she'd say to me over and over. "Don't worry." Then she'd put her hand over mine in that calming fashion. It no longer helped. I knew better. I knew my Emmy wasn't ok. After a while I put my foot down, and forced her to see a doctor.

"Cancer," he diagnosed after numerous tests and scans, "pancreatic."

Worse yet, it progressed too far. "We can do treatment. Try to extend her life. Make her as comfortable as possible, but we can do no more than that."

Other than being made comfortable, Emmy refused treatment. "I'm old. We're old. Why extend the inevitable? So you have longer to watch me waste away? I'm not doing that to you, Howard. I'm not doing it to me. I've had a good life. Better, I think, than anyone has. I'm not afraid. I'm going to Jesus, and I'm going to meet our baby." She cupped my hand and looked at me, "And we will be waiting for you Howard Bertram."

I was terrified. The idea, the very thought of her being gone, tore me apart inside. No more talking over breakfast or laughing at our favorite sitcoms. So many 'No Mores' to face. But I did understand. I would've made the same choice. I would have preferred to be the one making the choice.

I brought her home. We tried living as normal a life as possible, but the specter of cancer loomed ever closer as the days progressed. The sickness progressed at an alarming rate. Within a few months, I had her back at the hospital.

She took my hand. "Look at me, Howard. Smile. It's ok."

"It's not ok, Emmy. I'm lost without you. I don't want to go on without you. I don't know how I can."

"You can, Howard. You must. I'll always be with you. I'll watch over you as best I can, as best as God will let me. But don't you lose faith, you hear me? We'll be together again."

I spent almost every second at her bedside except when she made me go eat. Quietly she slipped into unconsciousness.

And too soon, she was gone.

***

I hadn't realized I'd crumpled onto my stoop. Sobbing, I just wanted the pain to end. The part of me surviving Emmy's death no longer tasted food, or felt the majesty of a rainbow or the beauty and grace of a butterfly lighting softly on a rose. Everything became shades of gray. Dull. Meaningless. Every morning started as a 'why' and every night ended in the hope of a last one.

Now this cat stirred so many memories. I didn't understand why. You'd think over the years that I would come to like cats, but I never did. Emmy loved them and they loved her as I loved her. In that we had common ground. 

Every day that cat seemed to wait on me, and every day it surfaced memories I tried to bury. I just wanted the days to go by as quickly as possible. I didn't know how much more I could take. I missed my Emmy so much!

Then I felt a gentle, warm touch against the back of my hand, tentative at first then with slightly more firmness. I looked and blue eyes in a darker brown face looked back. A calm enveloped me. Not the calm my Emmy gave me, but a calming nonetheless.

"Emmy?"

The cat gently purred, then rubbed its head in my hands. "She sent you, didn't she."

Again the cat gently purred, then more insistently rubbed against my hand. I felt the softness of its fur, the warmth of its body. How long has it been since I experienced touch?

I didn't care for cats much, but somehow I knew I would love this one my remaining days. This one was different. "Since she sent you, I will call you Emmy."

I picked her up and carried her into the house. She put up no fight. Made no effort to leave my arms. Just rested quietly, softly purring.

My Emmy.