Just A Memory Away. Helen Myers R.

who often acted as mother to the group, despite her handicap, the result of a near-fatal car accident.

      There was also Samson, the potbellied pig, who used his girth to push his way into anywhere he wanted to go. George, a rather distinguished muskovy duck. Her beloved Lambchop, the clubfooted donkey, who brought up the rear of every family parade. And perhaps her most irascible member of the family, Rasputin, a goat with eyebrows as bushy as his long beard.

      Once the stranger emerged from the truck, Maury and Rasputin initiated an instant tug-of-war with the blanket. Frankie sighed; she should have known they wouldn’t cut the new guy any slack.

      “Guys, guys… not now!”

      She gave her crew gentle nudges with her knees and elbows, whatever worked as she assisted her guest up the two steps to the deck she’d built herself last fall. For the most part, though, her efforts to keep her brood away from her guest were wasted. By the time she had the trailer door open, she had a feeling her company was wondering if he wouldn’t have been better off risking a night out under the stars beating off mosquitoes and God knew what else. She didn’t know how to warn him that he was in for round two, except to simply push open the door.

      “I’m home!” she called into the darkness.

      Even before she found the light switch, she was greeted with a scream. “Erk... save me! Save me!”

      From across the room she heard a flutter of wings, and then felt claws grip her shoulder with flawless precision. “Ouch—watch it!” Frankie muttered, flicking on the wall switch.

      As the room flooded with light, illuminating the crimson-and-azure parrot on her shoulder, the bird gave her a peck on the cheek. “Erk. Hello, Blondie.”

      “You know you’re not supposed to let yourself out until I tell you it’s safe.”

      “Erk. Gimmee a kiss.”

      Although she complied, Frankie didn’t spare the bird a necessary scolding. “What I should do is let Dr. J. have you for dinner, you juvenile delinquent.”

      That was too many words for the creature, and yet Honey seemed to get the message. She glided back across the room and into her cage, quickly tugging the door shut behind her. Just in time, too. Right on her tail came Dr. J., the Manx cat who’d recently come close to successfully slam-dunking the parrot into his food bowl.

      “I really do work at keeping these two separated,” she told her guest, who stood mesmerized by the show. “But Dr. J.’s learned how to escape from the back bedroom, and I haven’t figured out what to do about that yet.”

      “Are there any more?” the stranger asked, glancing around warily.

      “Two. But you won’t meet them until they’re ready. They’re very shy.” She took his arm again. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up? We can talk more after. The bathroom’s the first door,” she said, pointing down the hall. “As for clothes… I’m afraid you’ll have to cope with the blanket, or a towel. I do have some sleep shirts, but somehow I don’t think even they’d be large enough.”

      The stranger paused, and although he needed the support of the wall to stay on his feet, his gaze was direct—and grateful. “I may be confused, but… I know I’m asking for a great deal from you.”

      Mercy, she could spend all night and more gazing into those eyes. “That’s okay.”

      “Too much trust.”

      “That’s okay,” she repeated, not caring if she did sound like a just-hatched chick.

      He didn’t quite sigh, but he might as well have. “Thank you.”

      The longer he watched her, the more active her imagination grew, until she began feeling her insides turn to taffy, her cheeks grow feverish. She gestured into the bathroom, while backing toward the kitchen. “I, um, have to feed the gang. Don’t drown in there, okay?”

      “Miss… Frankie?”

      She stopped. Waited.

      “You won’t go too far? You…the sound of your voice… you’re very reassuring.”

       Oh, help.

      Right then and there she knew she was in major trouble. Between the lost tone in his voice and the look in his eyes, he might as well have put a one-armed nelson around her heart. Frankie could deal with mashers, professional flirts, and even a male-chauvinist porky, but a vulnerable man clearly in trouble…?

      “Drat it and phooey. I thought you guys were extinct!”

      “Wh- Extinct?”

      This was not a time to knock him into a tailspin with her impulsive philosophizing. Frankie dismissed herself with a wave. “Never mind. Everybody feels as if they’re lost once in a while. Go take that shower, and we’ll take things from there. Okay?”

       Two

      The instant she heard him shut the bathroom door, Frankie pursed her lips together for a silent whistle. What a close call! If he’d stood there another few seconds, no doubt she would have offered to bathe him herself. Boy, if the guy could do that to her when dazed and grubby, there was no telling what impact he would have when spruced up and functioning on all eight cylinders.

      Bemused by the prospect, she headed back toward the kitchen, only to stop at the sudden touch of hot breath on her cheek. It was followed by the flick of a sandpaper tongue, then the weight of two reptilian feet. Finally, the iguana climbed off a stereo speaker to wrap himself completely around her shoulders.

      Frankie scratched Bugsy under his flabby neck. “So what do you think?” she whispered, continuing on her way. “I know you’re intrigued. You never come out to check out company unless you are.”

      At the counter she stooped to let the iguana onto the steadier base, then flipped on more lights. Dr. J. was already settled on his favorite bar stool in the hope of getting a late-night snack, and Honey croaked from her cage, although she still had plenty in her feeder to nibble on.

      “Okay, you guys,” Frankie said, conscious of the less patient scratching and braying that hadn’t stopped just beyond the screen door. “Everyone will get something, as usual, but keep it down. Mercy… far be it from you guys to wait five extra minutes while I try to take care of a guest!”

      Maury uttered a low-throated growl through the screen. He always needed to get in the last word.

      “I heard that.” Frankie held up the steak bone she’d brought from work that one of the girls had saved for her. “See this? No jealousy or I’ll let Samson chew on this.”

      That earned her a snort of disgust from Maury, who then slapped the aluminum door with a huge paw. Rasputin supplied his support with a bump of his head.

      Frankie couldn’t help but smile. No wonder her guest had looked dubious about getting out of Petunia. Even for someone familiar with them and as fond as she was, they could be a challenge. She knew she wouldn’t be able to play with them tonight as much as she would like, either, because she needed to save a bit of energy for the man who remained too quiet in the bathroom.

      Despite her intentions, it took her a good twenty minutes to feed the motley group. By the time she issued “lovies” to the last animal, and returned to the bathroom, the prospect of a shower looked pretty good to her, too. Hoping that the stranger had finished, she knocked lightly on the door.

      “How’s it going in there?”

      She listened, but heard no reply.

      “Hello? Are you all right?”

      The silence had her imagining the worst: what if he’d been injured more severely than she’d imagined? What if he’d lost his balance and was bleeding to death on her