Kyle
“Don’t get your hopes up.” Zoë sets her phone on the table between us. “But we might have a lead.”
“We might?” I ask.
“Well, unlike all the other animal shelters we’ve called, this one can’t tell me they don’t have a shorthaired female black kitten with green eyes that’s arrived in the last two days. So we need to go see for ourselves.”
“Are there more places to call?” Cloudy asks.
Zoë shakes her head. “That was the last one.”
“We should do this, then,” Cloudy says, throwing her duffel over her shoulder.
Matty already took a couple of loads out earlier and sent a text five minutes ago that he officially checked us out with the front desk and is waiting at the car. I grab the shopping bags with my clothes and things stuffed inside while Zoë does one last walk-through to make sure no one’s forgotten anything.
Whatever we learn at the animal shelter, we have to leave Las Vegas today. The drive home will be over thirteen hours, and the plan is to do it with as few stops as possible so we’ll for sure beat Cloudy’s parents home. I’m trying to stay positive like my cousin is, but the thought that we might have to leave without Arm has my stomach in knots. (Although one thing my dad pointed out on the phone last night does help a tiny bit: Arm survived the coldest time of year in Bend on her own, so she could be all right in Nevada.)
As we’re about to walk out, Zoë’s phone (which she was ignoring while making calls) goes off once again.
“It never ends, does it?” Cloudy says with a laugh. “What’s the scoop today, Team Manager?”
“Let’s see. Jenna’s oversharing about what she did last night after WinterFest.” Zoë pauses to read more. “Also, Lita says Jacob was just talking trash about a couple of baseball players with the last name ‘Ocie,’ and she told him to shut his mouth. More importantly, she can’t decide how to style her hair for the Cheer Insider photo shoot next week, and she wants opinions.”
I chuckle. “Tell Lita thanks for having our backs. And I say, go for the ponytail. It’s classic.”
“Will do.” Zoë opens the front door and steps outside. “Cloudy, on a scale of one to ten, how much trouble do you think we’re going to be in when Mom and Dad get home?”
“For you? Probably a four.” Cloudy goes after her. “But for the irresponsible older sister? At least a nine. It was worth it, though.”
“Totally worth it,” Zoë agrees.
As the last one out, I pull the door shut behind me. I follow the girls through the breezeway and down the stairs to the parking lot. When we’re about twelve feet from my vehicle, Matty comes rushing over with his hands up, motioning for us to wait.
“Quick question, Kyle. You said yesterday you wanted to believe your cat was Ashlyn reincarnated, but deep down, you don’t. I’m wondering, though, do you think you’d be able to accept that she was an angel, sent to help you?”
I stare at him. “An angel?”
“Yeah. And maybe the reason she disappeared is because things are better, you’re ready for ball season, and her work with you was finished?”
Cloudy and Zoë are exchanging glances like Has Matty lost it?, which is exactly what I’m wondering.
“Um, no. I didn’t suddenly start believing in . . . cat angels.”
“Okay, just checking!” He sets my bags in the back of the Xterra, and then grabs ahold of my wrist. “Now, I need to show you something.”
I let him drag me away, shooting a confused glance at Cloudy as I’m pulled along the white line between my vehicle and the truck beside it. We reach the front, and he throws out his arm magician style. “Ta-da!”
There on my hood, the kitten I’ve been worrying about for the past thirty-six hours is curled up asleep on her panda Pillow Pet with half-empty dishes of food and water beside her.
“What did I tell you?” Matty’s grin is triumphant. “Cat Whisperer, right?”
“I can’t believe it!”
Zoë and Cloudy catch up. “Oh my God,” Cloudy says, putting her hand to her chest.
“You lured her out of hiding,” Zoë says. “Pretty smart.”
“Danielle told me she likes warm hoods,” Matty says. “So I ran the engine for a while this morning. Not sure if it was that or the food that got her to jump up here, but I’m guessing the comfy pillow is what made her stay. She must have been touring Vegas on her own in the meantime, or at least the courtyard.”
I reach out slowly, cautiously. As my fingertips touch her fur, her eyes open. “Hi, Arm. We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you okay?”
She responds by stretching and letting out a low, scratchy, “Mrowww.”
“Whoa,” Matty says. “That voice. So I think what she said is, ‘I’m fine, dickhead. But I’m not coming home with you unless you give me a new name.’”
While Matty and Zoë get us situated for the trip, I carefully scoop Arm up and take my seat in the front beside Cloudy, who’s volunteered to drive first.
I’m pretty sure I’ll never be a person who believes in reincarnation or heaven or mystical things. And that’s all right with me. Because, really, whether this cat is just a cat or not is beside the point. What matters is that she’s found the way back. Just like we’re all trying to do.
Cloudy starts the car, and as she turns onto Dean Martin Drive, Matty speaks from the backseat. “I’m serious about your cat’s name. If you want something to honor Ashlyn, why not call her ‘Ash’? Or ‘Lyn’? Or ‘Rose’? Or even ‘Montiel’? Those are actual names. Arm, leg, rib, ear. Those are body parts. See the difference?”
“This from someone who named his cat ‘Hercules,’” Cloudy says.
“That name is legit. And it isn’t an appendage.”
“‘Ashes’ is cute,” Zoë chimes in. “It would work better for a gray cat, though. Another option could be to name her after one of the places she visited. You could call her ‘Angeles’ for Los Angeles. Or ‘Monica’ for Santa Monica. Maybe ‘Vegas’?”
“I’ve got it!” Matty says. “‘Sedona.’ She spent a few days there, and it’s also where Kyle was born.” His tone is just daring one of us to challenge him. “‘Sedona’ is perfect.”
I force myself to keep a straight face. “I’d rather call her ‘Bend.’ Since that’s where she was born.”
Matty and Zoë groan in unison, but Cloudy laughs. She stops for a red light, and I ask, “What do you think her name should be?”
Tilting her head, Cloudy takes a moment to study the tiny black kitten on my lap. “I don’t know,” she says, aiming her smile my way. “She really just looks like an ‘Armadillo’ to me.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We were first inspired to write The Way Back to You because of someone else’s story—many someone elses’, actually. Francisco “Paco” Rodriguez was a boxer who died in the ring, and whose wife, Sonia, corresponded with and met the recipients of his organs. Paco’s family, and the recipients and their families, participated in ESPN’s E:60 and shared with the world how love and selflessness can bring hope after tragedy.
While working on this book, both of us lost significant loved ones, and what already felt personal became even more so. This story was sparked by people we’ve never met, but it was shaped and deepened by the people we knew and cared for. The people we still miss.
Endless gratitude to:
Our editor, Alex Arnold, whose vision, guidance, and passion helped bring our book to life. We couldn’t have hoped for someone who loved Cloudy, Kyle, Ashlyn, and Arm as much as you do. xo
Our agent, Jim McCarthy, whose optimism, persistence, and after-midnight “Fair enough!” emails always keep us going. You’re our shining star, and we appreciate you sticking with us through the years.
Dwayne Scott, who faithfully read every version of every scene and (almost) never complained. These characters wouldn’t be who they are if we hadn’t had you to bounce our ideas off of 24/7, and we’re so grateful.
Liesa Abrams, who connected with our writing—and connected us!—during that long-ago MediaBistro class. A million thank-yous for your friendship and for encouraging us to write this book together.
Everyone at HarperCollins and Katherine Tegen Books for taking such good care of our book! Special thanks to Katherine Tegen, Kate Engbring, Stephanie Hoover, Risa Rodil, Kathryn Silsand, Jessica White, Alana Whitman, and Christine Cox.
Ruth Gallogly, Kari Olson, Laura Walker, and Gina Wimpey for your thoughtful critiques; Doris Berthiaume, Adrienne Fox, John W. S. Marvin, Josh Moon, Sarah Moon, Beth Scott, Julie Slawson, Katherine Smith, Jesse Stewart, Sedona Red Rock High School, and Google Maps for assisting with our research; the Sweet 16s and Sixteen to Read; and Bethany Larson, for talking about a certain documentary on the drive to work one day.
And finally, thank you to our friends and families—particularly our parents and siblings—for taking this journey with us and accepting our writerly quirks. You talked us down and cheered us on, and we love you for it.
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ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Photo by Brandy Stockwell Photography
MICHELLE ANDREANI & MINDI SCOTT are novelists from opposite coasts who met through an online writing class. For years, they critiqued each other’s manuscripts, and then they wrote an entire book together—all while exchanging thousands and thousands (oh, and thousands) of emails, texts, and tweets. Michelle lives in New York City and Mindi lives near Seattle, Washington.
www.michelleandmindi.com
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CREDITS
Cover art © 2016 by RISA RODIL
Cover design by KATE ENGBRING
COPYRIGHT
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
THE WAY BACK TO YOU. Copyright © 2016 by Michelle Andreani and Mindi Scott. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2015952419
ISBN 978-0-06-238630-4
EPub Edition © April 2016 ISBN 9780062386328
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