Thursday night she got a call. Philip was in her room doing his homework and picked up the phone. He somberly handed it over to her. “It’s a man,” he said. “He wants to adopt Ella.”
Ivy frowned and took the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hi. How are you?” the caller asked.
“Fine,” Ivy replied stiffly. Did it matter how she was? She immediately disliked this person—because he hoped to take away Ella.
“Good. Uh … did you find a home for your cat?”
“No,” she said.
“I’d like to have her.”
Ivy blinked hard. She didn’t want Philip to see her cry. She should be glad and relieved that someone wanted a full-grown cat.
“Are you there?” asked the caller.
“Yes.”
“I’d take good care of her, feed her and wash her.”
“You don’t wash cats.”
“I’d learn what I have to do,” he said. “I think she’d like it here. It’s a comfortable place.”
Ivy nodded silently.
“Hello?”
She turned her back on Philip. “Listen,” she said into the phone. “Ella means a lot to me. If you don’t mind, I’d like to see your home myself and talk to you in person.”
“I don’t mind at all!” the caller replied cheerfully. “Let me give you my address.”
She copied it down. “And who is this?” she asked.
“Tristan.”
P1-7
“But you’re a dog person,” Gary said on Friday afternoon. “You’ve always been a dog person.”
“I think my parents will enjoy a cat,” Tristan replied. He moved quickly around the living room, clearing piles of stuff off the chairs: his mother’s pediatrics journals, his father’s hospital chapel schedules and stacks of photocopied prayers, his own swim schedules and old copies of Sports Illustrated, the previous night’s tub of chicken. His parents would wonder why he had gone to all the trouble. Usually the three of them sat on the floor to read and eat.
Gary was watching him and frowning. “You think your parents will enjoy it? Does the cat have a disease? Does it have a religion? If your mother the doctor can’t cure it and your father the minister can’t pray for and counsel it—”
“All homes need a pet,” Tristan cut in.
“In homes where there’s a cat, the people are the pets. I’m telling you, Tristan, cats have minds of their own. They’re worse than girls. If you think Ivy can drive you crazy—Wait a minute … wait a minute …” Gary tapped his fingers on the table. “I remember an ad on the bulletin board.”
“That’s nice,” Tristan said, and handed his friend his gym bag. “You said you had to get home early today.”
Gary dropped his bag. He had figured out what was up. “And miss this? I was there the last time you made a fool of yourself; why shouldn’t I stay for the fun this time?” He threw himself down on the rug in front of the fireplace.
“You’re really enjoying my misery, aren’t you?” Tristan murmured,
Gary rolled over on his back and put his hands behind his head. “Tristan, me and the guys have been watching you get all the girls for the last three years—no, for the last seven; you were hot even in fifth grade. Darn right I’m enjoying it!”
Tristan grimaced, then turned his attention to a coffee stain that seemed to have tripled in size since he’d last noticed it. He had no idea how to get something like that out of a rug.
He wondered if Ivy would find his family’s old frame house small and worn and unbelievably cluttered.
“So, what’s the deal?” Gary asked. “One date for taking her cat? Maybe one date for each week you keep it,” he suggested.
“Her friend Suzanne said she’s very attached to this cat.” Tristan smiled, rather pleased with himself. “I’m offering visitation rights.”
Gary snorted. “What happens when Ivy doesn’t miss the old furball anymore?”
“She’ll miss me,” Tristan said, sounding confident.
The doorbell rang. His confidence evaporated.
“Quick, how do you pick up a cat?”
“Buy her a drink.”
“I’m serious!”
“By the tail.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Yup. I’m kidding.”
The doorbell rang again. Tristan hurried to answer it. Was it his imagination, or did Ivy blush a little when he opened the door? Her mouth was definitely rosy. Her hair shone like a halo of gold, and her green eyes made him think of warm, tropical seas.
“I’ve brought Ella,” she said.
“Ella?”
“My cat.”
Looking down, he saw all kinds of animal paraphernalia on the porch beside her.
“Oh, Ella! Great. Great.” Why did she always reduce him to one-word sentences?
“You’re still interested, aren’t you?” A small line of worry creased her brow.
“Oh, he’s interested all right,” Gary replied, rising up behind Tristan.
Ivy stepped into the house and looked about without putting down her cat carrier.
“I’m Gary. I’ve seen you around a lot at school.”
Ivy nodded and smiled somewhat distantly. “You were at the wedding, too.”
“Right. Me and Tristan. I’m the one who made it all the way through dessert before being fired.”
Ivy smiled again, a friendlier smile this time, then she got back to business.
“Ella’s litter pan is outside,” she said to Tristan. “And some cans of food. I also brought her basket and cushion, but she never uses them.”
Tristan nodded. Ivy’s hair was blowing in the draft from the door. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to brush it off her cheek and kiss her.
“How would you feel about sharing your bed?” she asked.
Tristan blinked. “Excuse me?”
“He’d love to!” Gary said.
Tristan shot him a look.
“Good,” said Ivy, failing to notice Gary’s wink. “Ella can be a pillow hog, but all you have to do is roll her over.”
Gary laughed out loud, then he and Tristan brought in the pile of stuff.
“Are you a cat person?” Ivy asked Gary.
“No,” he replied, “but maybe there’s hope for me.” He leaned down to peer into the carrier. “I mean, look how fast Tristan converted. Hello, Ella. We’re going to have a great time playing together.”
“Too bad you’ll have to wait till next time,” said Tristan. “Gary was just leaving,” he told Ivy.
Gary straightened up with a look of mock surprise. “I’m leaving? So soon?”
“Not soon enough,” Tristan said, holding open the front door.
“Okay, okay. Catch you later, Ella. Maybe we can hunt mice together.”
When Gary left, the room grew suddenly quiet. Tristan couldn’t think of anything to say. He had a list of questions—somewhere—behind the sofa where all the other stuff was jammed. But Ivy didn’t seem to expect conversation. She unlatched the door of the cat carrier and pulled out Ella.
The cat was funny-looking, mostly black, but with one white foot, a tip of white on her tail, and a splash of it on her face.
“Okay, baby,” Ivy said, holding Ella in her arms, stroking her softly around the ears.
Ella blinked her huge green eyes at Tristan, happily soaking up Ivy’s attention.
I can’t believe I’m jealous of a cat, Tristan thought.
When Ivy finally set Ella on the floor, Tristan held out his hand. The cat gave him a snooty look and walked away.
“You have to let her come to you,” Ivy advised him. “Ignore her, for days, for weeks, if necessary. When she gets lonely enough, she’ll come around on her own.”
Would Ivy ever?
Tristan picked up a yellow pad. “How about giving me feeding instructions?”
She had already typed them up for him. “And here are Ella’s medical records, and here’s the list of shots she gets regularly, and th
e vet’s number.”
She seemed in a rush to get it over with.
“And here are her toys.” Ivy’s voice faltered.
“This is hard for you, isn’t it?” he said gently.
“And here’s her brush; she loves to be brushed.”
“But not washed,” Tristan said.
Ivy bit her lip. “You don’t know anything about cats, do you?”
“I’ll learn, I promise. She’ll be good for me, and I’ll be good for her. Of course, you can visit her as much as you like, Ivy. She’ll still be your cat. She’ll just be my cat too. You can come see her whenever you want.”
“No,” Ivy said firmly. “No.”
“No?” His heart stopped. He was still sitting upright holding a pile of kitty stuff, but he was sure he’d just had a cardiac arrest.
“It will only mix her up,” Ivy explained, “And I don’t think—I don’t think I can stand to.”
He longed to reach out to touch her then, to take one of her slender hands in his, but he didn’t dare. Instead he pretended to study the little pink brush and waited for Ivy to regain her composure.
Ella came over to sniff her brush, then pushed her head against it. Tristan gently ran it along her flank.
“She likes it best around her head,” Ivy said. She took his hand and guided it. “Under her chin. And her cheeks—that’s where her scent glands are, the ones she uses for marking things. I think she likes you, Tristan.”
She took her hand away. Tristan continued to brush Ella. The cat suddenly rolled over on her back.
Ivy laughed. “Well, well! You little tramp!”
With his hand Tristan rubbed her belly. The fur was luxuriously long and soft.
“I wonder why cats don’t like water,” he mused. “If you threw one in a pool, would it swim?”
“Don’t you dare!” Ivy said. “Don’t you dare do that!”
The cat leaped to its feet and scooted under a chair.
Tristan looked at Ivy with surprise. “Of course I wouldn’t. I was just wondering.”
She dropped her eyes. Color crept into her cheeks.
“Is that what happened to you, Ivy?”
When she didn’t answer, he tried again. “What made you afraid of water?” he asked quietly. “Something from when you were a little kid?”
Ivy wouldn’t look at him. “I owe you big time,” she said, “for getting me down from that board.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I was just asking because I was trying to understand. Swimming is my life. It’s hard for me to imagine what it’s like not to love water.”
“I don’t see how you could understand,” Ivy said. “Water to you is like wind to a bird. It lets you fly. At least that’s how it looks. It’s hard for me to imagine how that feels.”
“What made you afraid of it?” he persisted. “Who made you afraid of it?”
She thought for a moment. “I don’t even remember his name. One of my mother’s boyfriends. She had a lot of them and some of them were nice. But he was mean. He took us to a friend’s pool. I was four, I think. I didn’t know how to swim and didn’t want to go in the water. I guess I got annoying after a while, hanging on to Mom.”
She swallowed and glanced up at Tristan.
“And?” he said softly.
“Mom went inside for a few minutes, to help with sandwiches or something. He grabbed hold of me. I knew what he was going to do and started kicking and screaming, but Mom didn’t hear me. He dragged me over to the pool’s edge. ‘Let’s see if she’ll swim!’ he said, ‘Let’s see if the cat will swim!’ He picked me up high and threw me in.”
Tristan flinched, as if he were there, actually watching it.
“The water was way over my head,” Ivy continued. “I floundered around, kicking and moving my arms, but I couldn’t keep my face above water. I started choking on it, swallowing it. I couldn’t get up for air.”
Tristan stared at her, incredulous. “And this guy, did he jump in after you?”
“No.” Ivy had risen to her feet and was moving around the room like a restless cat. Ella poked her head out to watch, a dust ball hanging from her whiskers.
“I’m pretty sure he was drunk,” Ivy said. “Everything started getting blurry to me. Then dark. My arms and legs seemed so heavy, and my chest felt like it would burst. I prayed. For the first time in my life, I prayed to my guardian angel. Then I felt myself being lifted up, held above the water. My lungs stopped hurting, my eyes grew clear. I don’t remember much about the angel, except that she was shining, and many colors, and beautiful.”
Ivy glanced sideways at Tristan, then broke into a wide smile. She came back to him and sat on the floor again, facing him.
“It’s okay. I don’t expect you to believe me. Nobody else did. Apparently my mother had come out to see what was going on and her friend had turned around to speak to her, so no one saw how I made it back to the pool’s edge. They just figured that, thrown in, a kid would learn to swim.” Her face was wistful. She was somewhere else again, still remembering.
“I’d like to believe in your angel,” Tristan said. Then he shrugged. “Sorry.” He had heard stories like it before. His father occasionally brought such tales home from the hospital. But it was just the way the human mind worked, he thought; it was the way certain minds respond in a crisis.
“You know, when I was up there on the board Monday,” Ivy said, “I prayed to my water angel.”
“But all you got was me,” Tristan pointed out.
“Good enough,” she replied, and laughed a little.
“Ivy—” He tried to still the tremor in his voice, not wanting her to know how much he was hoping. “I could teach you how to swim.”
Her eyes opened wide.
“After school. The coach would let us in the pool.”
Her hands, her eyes, everything about her was still and watching him.
“It’s a great feeling, Ivy. Do you know what it’s like to float on a lake, a circle of trees around you, a big blue bowl of sky above you? You’re just lying on top of the water, sun sparkling at the tips of your fingers and toes. Do you know how it feels to swim in the ocean? To be swimming hard and have a wave catch you and effortlessly lift you up—”
Without realizing what he was doing, he put a hand on each arm and lifted her. Her skin was covered with goose bumps.
“Sorry,” he said, letting her down quickly. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”
“It’s okay,” she said, but she wouldn’t look at him again.
He wondered which she was more afraid of, the water or him.
Probably him, he thought, and he didn’t know what to do about it. “I’d make it fun, just like when I teach the kids at summer camp,” Tristan said encouragingly. “Think about it, okay?”
She nodded.
Clearly he made her uncomfortable. He wished he could apologize for plowing into her in the hall, for showing up at her mother’s wedding, for calling her about her cat. He wanted to promise her that he wouldn’t bother her anymore, hoping that would put her at ease. But she suddenly looked so confused and tired; it seemed best not to say anything else.
“I’ll be real good to Ella,” he told her. “If something changes and you want her back, give me a call. And if you decide that you do want to visit her, I don’t have to be around. Okay?”
Ivy looked up at him wonderingly.
“So,” he said, standing up. “I’m the cook Tuesdays and Fridays. I’d better start dinner.”
“What are you fixing?” Ivy asked.
“Liver bits and gravy. Oh, no, sorry, that’s Ella’s can.”
It was a weak joke, but she smiled.
“Stay and play with Ella as long as you like,” he told her.
“Thank you.”
Then he headed toward the kitchen to give her some time alone with the cat. But before he had gotten to the doorway he heard her say, “Good-bye, Ella.” A moment later, the front door clicked shut behind her.
/> When Ivy emerged from the locker room, Tristan was already in the water. Coach had let her into the locked pool area. She had expected the older man to stare at her in disbelief—“You mean you don’t know how to swim?” But his face, which was long and lined like a raisin, was kind and unquestioning. He greeted her, then retreated to his office.
It had taken Ivy a week to decide to do this. She had swum in her dreams, for miles some nights. When she told Tristan she wanted to learn, his eyes had lit up. Ivy was pretty sure she had successfully discouraged any romantic interest he had in her; according to Suzanne, he was dating two other girls. But she felt as if he was her friend. Getting her down from the board, taking in Ella, helping her face her greatest fear—he was there when she needed him, the way no other guy had been, the way a real friend would be.
Now she watched him doing laps. The water flowed past his muscular body; it lifted him up as he moved swiftly and powerfully through it. When he swam the butterfly, his arms pulling up out of the water like wings, he was visual music—strong, rhythmic, graceful.
Ivy watched for several minutes, then came back to the reason she was there. She walked to the pool’s edge at the shallow end and stared down at it. Then she sat down and slipped in her legs. It was warm. Soothing. Still, she was cold all over. She gritted her teeth and slid off the side. The water rose to just below her shoulders. She imagined it inching up over her throat, her mouth. She closed her eyes and gripped the side of the pool, trying to stop the fear rising within her.
Water angel, she prayed, don’t let go of me. I’m trusting you, angel. I’m in your hands.
Tristan stopped swimming. “You’re here,” he said. “You’re in.”
He looked so pleased that for a moment, a very brief moment, she forgot her fear.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Fine. You don’t mind if I just stand here and shake, do you?”
“You’ll warm up if you move around,” he told her.
She glanced down at the water.
“Come on, let’s take a walk.” He took her hand and walked her along the edge of the pool, as if they were walking the mall, though in the resistant water each step was in slow motion.
Kissed by an Angel/The Power of Love/Soulmates Page 6