Kate Angell

NORAH’S ARC

ONE


“Get your goat off the hood of my Corvette.”

Mike Kraft’s voice carried into Norah Archer’s office on a gust of wind. His arrival fluttered and shuffled the papers on her desk. So much for her orderly paying of bills.

Norah pushed to her feet, faced off with the six foot contractor with the dark hair and eyes and steam shooting out of his ears. “Don’t blame Houdini for escaping,” she shifted the blame. “Your bulldozer operator keeps clipping my fence posts and loosening the chain link.”

“There’s no room for a petting zoo in an industrial park,” Kraft shot back. “You should have moved your animals when Tampa Feed and Seed went out of business.”

Norah rounded her desk, met him sneaker to steel-booted toe. The man was tall, and she hated talking to his chest. A very thick and solid chest covered in a white button down, the sleeves shoved to his elbows. His forearms were tan and dusted with dark hair. A TAG Heuer wrapped his wrist. No wedding band.

She angled her head just as he dipped his chin, and
their lips nearly brushed. His aftershave hinted of
sunshine and sandalwood. He had a masculine mouth and a morning's worth of stubble. She’d never seen him smile.

Confrontation was not her style, yet when it came to
her animals, she’d go down fighting. “Norah’s Arc was on the outskirts of town long before you spread your cement and asphalt. So back off, Kraft.”

A tendon in his jaw jumped and a snarl broke as he
jabbed a finger toward the door. “One hoof dent on my
fiberglass and your ass is mine.”

Her ass would never be his. She didn’t, however, want
Houdini in the parking lot, jumping from car to car. The pygmy goat would cause a ruckus.

Norah pushed past the contractor, cleared the office
door, and took the wooden steps two at a time. The summer day proved overcast, the roll of thunder deep in the distance. Hurricane season was upon them. It rained every single day.

She walked briskly along the brick path toward the
side lot. Mike Kraft kept pace, his stride long and
purposeful. His scowl was as dark as the gathering
storm.

The goat’s bleat drew her to Kraft’s Corvette. Houdini
stood two feet tall and weighed twenty pounds. He had a mischievous streak a mile long.

The little buck pranced on the hood as if he owned the
sleek black sports car. Dust and dirt collected on the
fiberglass, but Norah didn’t see any dents from his hooves.

Relief sank bone-deep. She didn’t need a law suit.

Nor a call to Animal Control.

She prided herself on the upkeep and security at
Norah’s Arc. Twelve years, and she’d never had an escapee. Not until Kraft Construction tore up the land around her petting zoo, damaging the fences and scaring the animals.

“Houdini, down,” she ordered.

The goat’s return bleat proved an outright refusal as
he shot from the hood onto the sunroof.

“He’s climbing,” Mike ground out.

“Goats are cliff dwellers,” she quickly explained.

“The boulders for his pen have yet to arrive. His pen mate Hermes doesn’t mind the grass and dirt, but Houdini is going through puberty and wanting to show his muscle. He likes to climb and be king of his mountain.”

She turned a wistful look in his direction, asked,
“Got boulders?”

Mike actually nodded. “We set water lines this
morning. My bulldozer operator hit a lot of rock. Get his goat butt down and I’ll deliver the granite and gravel.”

Norah patted her thigh. “Houdini, want to play?”

Mike Kraft watched as the crazy zookeeper trotted away from the goat.

Houdini gave a bellowing bleat, then stomped his
hooves. Hooves still on the roof of Mike’s Corvette.

Bleat, prance, leap. The goat jumped from the roof to
the hood and onto the asphalt parking lot. A playful bleat and Houdini chased after Norah Archer.

Mike couldn’t believe his eyes. Norah’s laughter rent
the air as Houdini ran up behind her and butted her with his tiny horns. She grabbed the goat by one horn and used it as a handle to gently control him. Then slowly walked Houdini back toward Mike.

They made a picture, the woman with the wild auburn
hair, light blue eyes, and slight build walking her
caramel-colored, course-haired goat. Norah was a small woman for the big job of zookeeper. Maybe not so big, Mike recanted. From what he’d seen, every animal at the petting zoo was miniature. From the horse, donkey, zebu cow, pot belly pig to the zebra, all came pint sized.

Two by two, they came in pairs. Each had a mate.

Mike caught Houdini nip the back pocket on Norah’s
jeans. Distressed jeans with more tears than denim. He
noted the long rip at her knee, as well as the shorter
one at the top of her thigh. Lady had nice legs.

“Any dents?” Norah interrupted him checking her out.

Together they crossed to his Corvette.

Mike ran a practiced eye over the fiberglass. Outside
of the dirty hoof prints there were no dents or scrapes.

“Goat is cleared to go back to his pen,” he stated.

He noted her relief, the deep sigh as she blew out a
breath that fluttered her bangs. She dug into the front pocket of her jeans, pulled out a twenty dollar bill. The sparkle returned to her eyes and her smile broke. “A deluxe wash and wax on Houdini.” She offered him the money.

Which Mike refused. “Keep the twenty. No damage done.”

Houdini sniffed and nipped at the bill between Norah’s
fingers. She jerked her hand back before the buck ate
Andrew Jackson.

Mike watched them walk away. His daily confrontations
with Norah had become routine. From the first shovel of dirt at the ground-breaking ceremony, he and the zookeeper had faced-off over property lines, parking spaces, and where she dumped manure.

She was feisty and argued with him as no other woman
had dared. Her high color and determined fight for her
animals both frustrated and held his respect. He was under contract to build Cambridge Square and didn’t have time to pacify a pygmy goat.

Houdini’s interference had cost him an hour. An hour
better spent pulling permits at the courthouse. He
scratched his jaw, shook his head. The government center would have to wait. All because he’d gone soft and offered to haul boulders so Houdini could be king of his mountain.

Mike crossed the parking lot and circled the freshly
cemented foundation for the industrial center. Sidewalks would be formed tomorrow. He located the bulldozer operator, pushing dirt over the water pipes. He instructed the man to load and haul the boulders to the back gate of Norah’s Arc.

He then took the return path to the main office.
Ancient banyan trees shadowed the brick walkway and yellow hibiscus bordered the sides. The scent of rain hung heavy on the air. A storm cell brewed over the Gulf, now edging the shore. Most of the petting zoo’s visitors had headed for their vehicles.

He knocked on the office door, only to find it locked.
After several inquiries of the employees, he located Norah inside a pen with two babydoll sheep. The zookeeper was on her knees, bottle feeding the smallest of the two.

He opened the gate and entered without her permission.
Her lips parted in surprise. “Boulders are at your back
gate,” he told her as the chug and rumble of the bull-
dozer broke the calm before the storm.

Norah pushed to her feet, pressed her walkie-talkie,
and called for assistance. She then left the tiny sheep and headed toward the goat pen. She trapped Houdini and Hermes in their little red barn while Mike, the bulldozer operator, and six staff members hauled and arranged a granite mountain. They built the base wide, stacking to a ten foot plateau.

Mike then went on to straighten the corner post and
secure the fencing that contributed to Houdini’s earlier escape. He made a mental note to remind his heavy equipment operators not to cut so close to the property line.

Standing back, Mike watched as Norah released the
pygmy goats. Hermes circled the boulders, the tiny doe
curious but cautious. Houdini scaled the granite, bleating his superiority on the top rock. The goat ruled his world.

A round of applause and everyone dispersed. Norah
came to stand by Mike. She thanked him with a light
touch to his forearm and a few soft words. “You’ve made Houdini one very happy boy.”

“If your goat’s happy, then you’re happy?”

“My animals are my life.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, looked down on
her. “Lady, you need to get out more.”

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