Read Online One-Eyed Cat by Paula Fox - Free Book Online

moving was a wasp near the roof of the outhouse. Ned watched it as its circles grew smaller and smaller until, all at once, it disappeared. Probably its nest was there just under the roof. Maybe there were snakes in back of the outhouse where the tangled grass grew thick. He suddenly recalled how Janet had flung her whole self against Billy, how the snake had flown out of his hands. A thought was buzzing and circling inside his head, a thought that stung like a wasp could sting.
    Mr. Scully had said wild cats lived up in the woods among the thick-boughed trees where Ned had read books in the summer. Between the house and the woods was the old stable.
    Ned had taken the gun and fired it. He had seen something move along the stones of the foundation. It hadn’t been tall grass stirring in a current of air. It had been something living. He had disobeyed his father and he had shot at something that was alive. He knew it was that cat. What would Janet have done to him if she had seen him that night, shooting at something he had told himself was a shadow. Had he really thought it was a shadow? Would a shadow make you feel so alert? Sharpen your hearing? Make your heart drum?
    Years ago, the church ladies had outdone themselves and packed a hamper of cakes for his father’s birthday. Papa had brought the hamper home and put the cakes on the kitchen table, five of them. Papa had said, “The left hand didn’t know what the right hand was doing. I can’t think why they don’t plan things a little better!” and shaken his head. He’d taken three of the cakes to the Kimballs and one to Mr. Scully but he kept the chocolate cake. Ned, who loved chocolate better than anything, had gotten up after everyone was asleep and gone down to the kitchen and eaten handfuls of cake until he could hardly stand up. He was sick the next morning and stayed home from school.
    He recalled exactly how it had been, standing in the dark, the cake moist in his hands, stuffing pieces of it into his mouth, knowing he shouldn’t be doing what he was doing, but shutting his eyes tight with the joy of it.
    In the morning, as he clutched his belly, Papa had pulled a chair to the side of his bed and sat down and spoken to him in an especially gentle voice, that spooky voice he used when he was trying to teach Ned something. “I know it was good,” Papa had said. “Just because a thing is good doesn’t mean we can have as much of it as we want.”
    He hadn’t been able to figure out at first how his father had known what he’d done. Later, when he was able to creep downstairs, he saw the crumbling ruins of the cake on its plate.
    â€œCome here, my little hog,” his mother had said. “I understand you made a chocolate cake miraculously disappear during the night.”
    Thinking about that now, remembering how he’d put his face down on his mother’s lap, how he’d said he’d never do that again, and how she’d touched his hair and said, “Yes, that’s what we always say,” he realized how childish it all had been. How childish all the bad things he’d ever done were compared to what he’d done on the night of Uncle Hilary’s visit.
    He looked around the yard. The cat was gone. He hoped he’d never see it again. He went back into the kitchen.
    â€œThe storm is closer,” Mr. Scully said. Standing next to him, Ned stared at his soft old mouth, his stained teeth, and smelled his dried-leaf-and-old-wood smell.
    â€œI left the bowl for the cat,” he said.
    â€œHunting will be hard for him now. These cats live pretty good off rodents until the ground freezes over. I’ll keep food out for him. Maybe he’ll manage.”
    Ned didn’t think he would. He’d seen the gap, the dried blood, the little worm of mucus in the corner next to the cat’s nose where the eye had been.
    He walked slowly up the long road home. The house in