Free Secrets by Lynn Crandall Page A

the taxes for several years because someone had to do it. An expert would be great. But you just said we have little operating funds.”
    “And you don’t think a fundraiser would enable us to hire someone?”
    “I can always hope. But you know me, I’m willing to take on anything that will help us take care of more cats and get them homed. If it means doing paperwork myself, so be it. If you have another way, spill.”
    Jackson laughed again. “I don’t have many thoughts, but how about we talk about fundraiser ideas at the next board meeting. We haven’t done one in a while. I’ll table the accountant idea until we improve our bank account.”
    “Sounds like a plan. Jackson, do you know what I dream of? A large facility for Cats Alive that offers comprehensive services, in a cage-free sanctuary for all cats, regardless of their adoptability. We would offer a permanent comfortable home with access to outdoor enclosures and veterinarian care, as well as adoption services. Do you think we can improve our bank account enough to do that?”
    Silence stretched between them. “I think it’s a grand plan, Michelle, one I could certainly get behind. I don’t mean to sound an alarm. I appreciate your skills and willingness to do what needs to be done. I’m probably overreacting.”
    “Thanks. We’ll brainstorm at the meeting.”
    The phone call ended, Michelle tapped her pencil against the table. Jackson’s concern about the IRS was a worthy concern, but she didn’t know any other way than what she’d been doing.
    Although Jackson’s suggestion needled her insides, Michelle moved on to her next project, that of the return of one of her rescues. It saddened her heart. But she blamed herself. Over the course of running Cats Alive she’d come to understand the importance of following her gut. Every time she overrode her instincts and believed in the adopter in question, the cat was returned. The reasons didn’t matter. It amounted to the same thing. The cat had a home and then had it ripped away.
    In this case, a perfectly lovable and adorable gray shorthaired named Ally was again unwanted, all because the college guy Michelle had believed in didn’t actually have what it took to provide a permanent home. If she’d listened to her gut, she wouldn’t have homed a cat with the guy. He’d seemed like a very reliable and likable young man, but she’d sensed he wasn’t ready for responsibility.
    Thoughts rammed through her head. She wanted to stick her finger in his face and remind him that he came to her. He’d begged for a cat. She’d told him the cat deserved a permanent commitment. He agreed.
    But it was her fault. She’d hoped so hard for Ally that she let hope distort her instincts. When she’d taken her back, all she’d told the kid was she wanted what was best for the cat and for him. Clearly it wasn’t a good fit. And she’d smiled at him.
    Of course it was true. So was the fact that people could be so shallow, so unwilling to stick with a commitment, even one so meaningful to a gray, furry soul.
    She checked her clock. Eight o’clock. Still early enough to call a foster for Ally, now lying in her lap. Michelle rubbed a hand along the sleeping cat’s back and she responded with a gentle purr. “I love you, Ally,” she murmured.
    Forty-five minutes later fosters George and Jane Pribbles carried Ally, carrier, blanket, and all, out to their car. Michelle frowned as their car backed out into the lane. It wasn’t fair.
    She put out food and water for ferals, pausing to ground herself with the brisk breeze and sounds of dried leaves rustling. Still for several minutes, she couldn’t stop herself. She squinted out into the field beyond the hedge, hoping to catch a glimpse of the lynx again. It was silly to think it might visit again. It was a wild animal. Even so, she stood waiting and hoping. Listening for a sound in the darkness that could be the lynx walking close.
    As minutes passed, Michelle