by Elsa Nickle
“She was only three years old when she got sick. I used my own money to take her to the vet, and they felt around and took ultrasounds. They even took some blood tests. Six hundred dollars later, I found out that she had a blockage in her intestines and needed surgery. My parents refused to pay the two thousand dollars for what they said was “just a cat” and I was only thirteen. I didn’t have that kind of cash. So we had to put her down.”
Laurel gave a little gasp, and Ethan met her concerned eyes. “Oh, Ethan. That’s awful!” She reached out and put her hand on his. Her fingers were cold, but he felt warmth spread up his arm at her touch.
In truth, it had been one of the hardest days of his life, up until his parents’ deaths. He coughed, not wanting to go down that line of thinking. “And that’s when I decided I wanted to create some sort of charity for people who loved their animals but didn’t have the funds to save them.”
“So that’s why you became a vet?” she said, impressed.
“Originally. But I’m not so sure the whole charity clinic is in the cards anymore.”
“Oh? Why not?” She took her hands from his and he suddenly felt cold.
Her candor caught him by surprise. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to open up his own clinic, but every time he came up with some sort of plan to make it happen, something always stood in his way. Student loans, for one. “I’ve tried, but, well, my friend gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse, and now we’re opening a clinic together.”
“And … he doesn’t get your vision?”
Ethan ran a hand through his hair. “Not exactly.” When he mentioned the idea of creating a charity to Jason, hoping they could incorporate it into their clinic, there was absolutely no interest. Jason wanted to cater to the rich clientele. Even when Ethan had presented several different options on how to make it work, Jason’s only reply was that they’d have to “wait and see how things went” before committing to a plan. That they needed solid income before they could give away their services. And he was right. That’s when Ethan decided to put his dream on the backburner.
She raised her shoulder as if unconvinced while she picked at the pastry. “You know what they say. It’s better to be at the bottom of the ladder you want to climb than at the top of the one you don’t.”
Ethan smiled, but the reality of her words stung. Was he on the wrong ladder? He’d never thought of it that way until now.
“You could probably open something up here in Bisbee.” She gave him a playful wink and his stomach flipped.
He slowly nodded, but in truth, Bisbee would never work. One, it wasn’t far enough away from his brothers. Two, he still needed money.
“You okay?” Laurel asked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like what you’re doing isn’t good enough. Opening a vet clinic is amazing, charity or not. I guess …” She glanced out the window as if trying to find the right words. “I know it’s none of my business, but I get it, ya know? Having a dream.” She was focused on using her fingertip to pick up pieces of powdered sugar on the plate. “It’s just”—she looked up, meeting his eyes—“you have a passion for saving animals, and it’s definitely a worthy goal. You could change so many lives. And I think, well … that you’re selling yourself short.” She suddenly sat up straighter and took her phone out of her jacket pocket and checked the time. “Speaking of recklessly chasing dreams, I’d better go. Thanks for breakfast.” She stood up and wiped her hands on her jeans, then grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.
Ethan stood to walk her out. “So, was this an official date then? I mean, I did buy you breakfast,” he teased with a grin and she blushed again.
“Oh! That gives me an idea.” She stepped over to him, casually putting her arm around his neck. “Say cheese!” She held her phone out in front of them for a selfie.
“Proof,” she said with a grin. “Mind if I post it?”
“Whatever makes it more believable, I guess.” After all, what did he have to lose?
Ethan stared at his laptop after she left, not able to focus on his work. She had stirred that passion within him to chase his own goals. Jason wouldn’t like it, but Ethan couldn’t stop the different ideas that came to mind. Besides, it wasn’t as if Ethan was just some employee. He was a partner which meant he had equal say.
Ethan opened the notes on his desktop and typed: Climb the right ladder.
Chapter Seven
Getting up early in the morning was hard, but Laurel was determined to paint the sky. She shut off her beeping alarm and rubbed her face, trying not to fall back asleep. With each passing minute, the deep Prussian blue of night lightened half a shade—it wasn’t going to wait for her. There was no snooze button for the sunrise.
Laurel threw back her covers and somehow got herself upright, stretching and shaking her arms and fingers. She pulled on some jeans, grabbed her trusty tan canvas bag packed with supplies, and left her bedroom, sketchbook in hand. Watercolor wasn’t her usual medium, but ECAA wanted a variety in her next portfolio. She wanted to stretch herself today anyway, to see things from a new angle. Experimenting with paints and techniques she hadn’t used for a while always made Laurel feel more free, more excited to continue working. And after hitting some snags in her work lately, she really needed a recharge.
Of course, she still wouldn’t attempt some things. Namely, she would not paint anything that could breathe or move. Her first art teacher told her she was bad at it, and since then, she’d stayed away from depicting people and animals. But landscapes and still life held a lot of beauty, and maybe it was good to have a niche.
She walked down the dark hallway and took one step into the kitchen before she stopped.
Her mother was reaching into the glowing fridge, silhouetted in the light, wearing her work uniform. But that wasn’t the startling part. Every available surface in the room, from the countertops to the kitchen table to the floor, was piled with food containers. Mayonnaise and pickle jars, a milk carton, take-out boxes, a plethora of salad dressing bottles, eggs.
Laurel squinted into the weak fridge light. “What on earth are you doing?”
Her mom whipped around. “Oh, honey! You scared me.” She hugged the coffee creamer she was holding to her chest. “The fridge broke again. I went to get a glass of milk and it was bad.”
“Why aren’t you throwing the bad stuff away?”
Her mom shrugged. “The trash is full. Right now I’m making piles of good and bad.”
Laurel wasn’t sure where to step or what to do. “You have the early shift today?”
“Yeah, I’m stocking before we open.” She unscrewed the creamer and gave it a sniff, wrinkling her nose. “And while I’m there, I’ll need to get more groceries, I guess.” She re-screwed the lid. “This is the worst timing. We don’t have the money to fix this right now.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
Laurel’s mother set the creamer on the floor. “Well, it’s not like it’s ever a good time—we never have the money for things like this. I don’t know what to do.” She rolled her eyes. “At least the light still works.” Sheila turned to the fridge again, but then pivoted back to Laurel. “What are you doing up so early anyway?”
Laurel held up her sketchbook. “I wanted to paint the sunrise.”
“You’ve been earning your painting time lately, that’s for sure.”
Something tightened inside Laurel’s chest. Maybe it was because she hadn’t really “earned” anything—her dating status with Ethan was a lie. Laurel should have been happy that she was getting away with skirting around her mom’s ridiculous rules, but she was too sad about her mom’s inability to emotionally support her dreams. If only Laurel’s dad had been at least moderately successful as an artist—if only he had stayed. Maybe then her mom wouldn’t be so poisoned against the thing that made Laurel so happy.
Her mom stuck her head into the fridge, scrunching her nose against the smell. “Hey, if things work out with Ethan, you can paint every sunri
se you want. That would be a good family to marry into.”
Oh, yikes. “Mom. Just because his brothers are getting married doesn’t mean he’s searching for a wife.”
Her mom peered out from behind the door and smirked. “If he doesn’t have marriage on the mind, you’re just going to have to try harder.”
Laurel’s jaw popped wide open. “We’ve been dating for less than a week. Are you crazy? Besides, he’s going back to Santa Barbara in a month.”
Her mom shrugged. “Maybe you could go with him.”
Laurel felt wide awake now. “Mother! I know you’d never want me to move to another city with a guy I barely know.”
Sheila shook with laughter. “You should see your face right now!”
The supply-laden satchel was already starting to feel heavy on Laurel’s shoulder. She’d been carrying it around a lot lately. “Don’t joke too much about this, okay? Don’t give people anything more to gossip about.”
Her mother put her hand to her heart. “I swear I won’t. But—” The mirth left her eyes, and she suddenly looked very sad. She swiveled around to look at the mess. “Santa Barbara does sound nice, doesn’t it?”
Laurel could practically see her mom’s worry hanging in the air. She was really good at making light of serious things, but this was obviously a lot to deal with. Laurel sighed. “Hey, Mom? Just go ahead and finish getting ready. I’ll deal with this mess after I’m done painting. I don’t want you to be late for work.”
Her mom smiled at Laurel, but her eyes still held concern as she took one more look around the messy kitchen, nodded, and headed to the bathroom. Laurel almost scrapped her painting session in order to clean up right away, but the sky was getting lighter all the time, and the deadline for turning in her second portfolio was one day closer. The competition for this school was fierce. She had to use every available moment.
The sunrise came, and it was spectacular. Laurel sat on top of the metal shed where they parked their car, and stared into the melon-colored horizon. She was running low on certain colors—Indian Yellow, Indanthrene Blue—and she was running out of money to spend on supplies. The realization put a damper on her mood. What was she doing with her life? She had taken a big risk, dropping out of college when she had made it past the first cut at the East Coast Art Academy. It had been so validating to have her work judged and accepted. Knowing that one of the best art schools in the nation had liked her paintings above thousands of other applicants made her cheeks glow and her heart race every time she thought about it.
But if she was honest with herself, she didn’t really want to go to art school. Well, she did—and she didn’t.
It would be amazing if she was chosen for the program, because she would feel validated as an artist. But all she really wanted was to sell her art. Period.
At some point, her mother got in the car beneath her and left. Laurel finished her painting, but she didn’t get down. First of all, it was hard for her to get up and down from anywhere. Heights weren’t her thing. But also, her legs were cramped and cold, but she wanted to stare at the sky a little longer. She had some thoughts to work out, and thinking was always easier when she was in nature.
Her mother had joked about Laurel marrying Ethan, which was insane. How could her mom even make jokes like that when she’d been in such a bad marriage herself? And how could she think that Ethan would ever want someone like Laurel? She was a poor college dropout—what was attractive about that? Not to mention, since almost none of their interactions so far had been normal, he probably thought she was too strange to date.
The sun made its way higher and higher, and Laurel studied her newest piece of art in the morning light. It was pretty good. Or was it? Sometimes she couldn’t tell. She’d shown some of her stuff to a few vendors in town, and they’d been encouraging, but were they just humoring her? Sal had traded her for ceramics in the past, and that felt pretty good. But again, maybe he was just being nice. It was hard to know. When she tried to sell her art after high school, nobody wanted it. That’s why she needed to go to ECAA. At that school, she would learn how to be a good enough artist to sell. After graduating, she would know she was a real artist. But how was she going to afford ECAA? This was the ever-present, never-ending pattern of Laurel’s thoughts lately.
A small noise came from somewhere down below—a high-pitched, pathetic mewling. Laurel scooted carefully to the edge of the roof and squinted her eyes at the bushes and dirt. She scanned where an old shabby couch had been leaning against the shed for years and spotted the noise-maker. A small, gray ball of fluff.
“Hey, kitty!”
It looked at her and meowed a little louder. Laurel cautiously slid off the roof and dropped down, ignoring the fear buzzing in her stomach and trying not to startle the animal. She didn’t have a lot of experience with cats, but this little one sounded distressed. And when Laurel got closer, she understood why. Its little head was covered in blood.
Laurel’s insides tightened. Oh no, what do I do? Her mom was gone, and she wasn’t great friends with any neighbors. She got a little closer to the poor thing, and the kitten didn’t run. The wound looked like it originated around one ear, but she couldn’t be sure.
It didn’t have a collar and was pretty dirty. Probably nobody was searching for this cat, and that meant if she took it somewhere to get help, she’d probably be expected to pay for its care.
She couldn’t do that.
The mewling continued, and Laurel couldn’t help herself. She dropped her bag and her book on the filthy old couch and picked the kitten up. She tried to comfort it, but the poor little puffball was trembling. Laurel needed to do something.
She walked quickly into the house, tiptoeing around a few bottles and things that were still on the floor. The kitten continued to whine as Laurel grabbed her phone. Without pausing to think too much about it, she called Ethan Wyle.
He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, Ethan, it’s Laurel.”
“Laurel?”
“You know … your pretend girlfriend.”
“Yeah, I remember.” He sounded like he was smiling. “It’s just that you usually text. What’s up?”
Laurel closed her eyes. This was probably a bad idea. She’d already asked too much of this guy. But she didn’t know who else to call, and the kitten was still shaking and mewling. Plus, he had said that he wanted to help people who couldn’t afford to pay for their pet’s care. “I found this kitten outside my house, and it is bleeding and crying, and I don’t know what to do.”
He was quiet just long enough for Laurel to get embarrassed. She needed to fill that silence. “I’m sorry to call you. I know you probably get calls like this all the time, being a vet, but I don’t know what to—”
“No, it’s no problem.” He shifted to a more professional tone. “You have the cat with you?”
“Yes, it’s in my arms. There’s blood coming from its head.”
“Is it still bleeding?”
She looked at the matted fur. “Not a lot, but—”
“Is the head misshapen or crushed at all?”
Laurel winced. “I don’t think so.”
“Can you bring it over to my place?”
“Yeah.” She started out the door and then stopped. “I mean, no. My mom has the car. It’s too far to ride my bike.” Laurel closed her eyes and shifted the kitten in her arms.
“That’s alright. I’ll get my kit and come to you. Give me your address.”
Laurel did, thanked him profusely, and then hung up.
The next twenty minutes were difficult. She tried to calm the kitten, then tried to stop the bleeding with a towel. She was so worried for this tiny cat, but somehow she also had space in her head to stress about Ethan. How he must think she was so needy and weird, how much she had asked of him in the short time they had known each other. Right when Laurel thought she didn’t have anything else to be uncomfortable about, she realized that Ethan was coming to her hou
se. He lived in a beautiful, spacious ranch, and she lived in a tiny, old shack. Currently featuring food containers everywhere, which Laurel hadn’t had time to clear away.
With the kitten in one hand, Laurel tried to tidy up. There was nothing she could do about the slight sour smell in the air, and soon it didn’t seem like there was much she could do about the mess either. The trash was full and there was really nowhere to put anything, and right when Laurel decided to shove everything into cupboards, Ethan’s car pulled into the dirt driveway. Oh well. Laurel shook her head. I tried. She could only deal with one emergency at a time, and right now, she needed to focus on the kitten. She clutched it gently to her chest and rushed outside.
Ethan opened his car door and got out. He looked more like a cowboy today with his plaid shirt and jeans. “Is that the patient?”
“Yes.” The little cat had stopped shaking but was still occasionally making pathetic noises. “Can you tell what’s wrong?”
He gently took the creature in his hands. He passed one hand over the length of its body and lightly probed its head. “Let’s get her inside and get a better look.”
“It’s a girl?” Once the question was out of her mouth, she realized it was probably a stupid thing to say.
Ethan smiled. “Yep, this is a girl.” He shifted the kitten to one hand and grabbed a small, royal blue bag with the other. “Let’s get a better look at her.”
Laurel walked him to the door into the kitchen and led him to the sink. She caught him glancing at the random bottles and her face heated up. “Our fridge broke this morning. Sorry about the stuff everywhere.”