Page 38 of The Cottage on Pelican Bay

She went outside to the backyard to check on the plants in her father’s flower garden. Originally, it had been her mother’s garden and had been the pride of the cove, winning all kinds of awards at the Best of the Flowers Show held each spring.

After her mother’s death, her father had made it his life’s mission to keep the flowers as beautiful as her mother had. Lately, doing so had become a major challenge for him. He couldn’t get down on his knees like he used to do. But she knew this garden brought him a lot of joy and was filled with a lot of good memories for him.

On warmer days, he would often come out and sit on the bench and stare at the rows and rows of immaculate flowers of all kinds and colors. It was during those times that she knew he was probably remembering sitting in that same spot and watching her mother take care of the flowers.

It was only after losing Ron that she fully understood the loneliness her father had faced. Those times when she would call and he would tell her that he was okay, she now knew that he probably wasn’t really okay. But then, for the past three years after Ron’s death, hadn’t she said the same thing to her kids whenever they called to see how she was doing?

A half hour later she went inside to find both her father and Butterball in the kitchen. Her dad was sitting at the table reading one of those sales magazines with Butterball at his feet. Her father often told her how glad he was to have her home, and she’d tell him how glad she was to be here.

He had married her mother late in life and there had been a twelve-year difference in their ages. For years he’d said her mother had kept him young. Eventually, she believed him because just a few years after she died, he seemed to have aged tremendously.

These days, attending church was the only time he left the house, and his constant companion was Butterball. All of them were convinced that cat had more than nine lives. Butterball had to be at least twenty years old, if not older. Some days Margie thought the cat was slowing down and finally showing signs of his old age. Then on other days, he seemed just as spry as a cat half his age. That was when Butterball would take to roaming the neighborhood and disappear, only to have her father out during all hours of the night looking for him. Margie had always been fearful that someone would mistake her father for a burglar one of those times and—

The doorbell sounded. In a way, she was glad. She didn’t want to continue her train of thought. She’d only been back home a month and was grateful some of the neighbors and his church family checked on him periodically.

He’d often told her how his next-door neighbor, a young woman named Bryce Witherspoon, would also check on him and Butterball, and that she would frequently bring him meals from her family’s café. Although Bryce had gotten married and moved to the bayou, she still occasionally visited to make sure he was okay.

“It’s probably Pastor Dawkins,” her father said. “Sometimes he drops by to check on me.”

“That’s nice of him,” Margie said as she headed for the door.

“That’s what pastors are supposed to do,” was her father’s response.

She couldn’t help but smile. She was finding out that her father was speaking his mind a lot more these days. But she figured if you lived to be almost eighty-four, you’ve earned that right.

When she reached the door, she asked, “Who is it?”

“Levi Canady.”

She smiled upon opening the door. He was the nice man who’d helped to find her father and Butterball on Saturday night. Of course, her father had declared he had not been lost and hadn’t understood what all the fuss had been about.

“Levi, what a pleasant surprise,” she said, inviting him in. She hadn’t seen much of him that night because it had been dark, but today she could clearly see that Levi Canady was a very good-looking man. She’d known he was tall, but she hadn’t noticed the color of his eyes was a stunning shade of green or that the color of his skin was a coffee-bean brown.

“I just wanted to stop by to check on Mr. Chelsey to see how he’s doing and to bring him something that I picked up at the store earlier today.”

“Dad and Butterball are in the kitchen,” she said, leading the way.

When they reached the kitchen, her father looked up and she said, “Dad, you have a visitor and it’s not Pastor Dawkins.”

Her father actually smiled when he saw Levi. “Levi, how are you doing?” he asked warmly.

“I’m fine, thanks. I came by to bring you something I think might work whenever Butterball decides he wants to take a little stroll without you.”

“What is it?”

Levi pulled something out of the bag he was carrying. “This is a lighted collar. If you turn it on at night and Butterball gets out, it will make finding him easier because the collar lights up. And with this little remote here,” he said, showing the gadget he held in his hand, “it makes the collar flash as long as Butterball is within forty feet of you.”

“Well, I’ll be,” her father said, clearly fascinated. “Thanks, son. This is really nice, and it was kind of you to get it for me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Dad and I were just about to eat lunch. Would you like to join us?” Margie asked.

“No, thank you. I took Chip into the vet for his regular checkup and now I’m on my way to work.”

“I want to again thank you, Levi, for helping me look for Dad the other night and—”

“You didn’t have to look for me, Margarita. I was not lost.”

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