That had only been at eight o’clock. She shuddered away the thought that something terrible had happened. What could possibly have gone wrong in the two hours since she had left? Mentally, she reviewed their time together: no new news, all was well at school, and his parents would be pleased to know he was now passing physics (thanks to Landon’s superior negotiation skills).
He could sweet talk his way out of anything. He could walk nude through Times Square and not be charged with indecent exposure; he was so smooth. Cat had witnessed such skills on numerous occasions. She could be stammering and making a fool of herself until Landon would swoop in and save the day. No, nothing had been awry.
As she left his house, she had noted his mother had made his favorite meal: stuffed pork roast with fig gravy, roasted asparagus, garlic rolls, and cherries jubilee for dessert. This was of course a rarity, since his mother seldom cooked their meals. His father would soon be home for a family meal, Landon had happily confirmed — they had so few of them. Mr. Jennings returned from his recent business trip to Tokyo just as she was leaving. Landon looked so happy, as he saw her to the door and reminded her of their morning breakfast plans. As if she could forget, they’d been going to Eli’s every morning for breakfast since they started Ninth grade. She always got her usual: egg white omelet, wheat toast (no butter), and o.j.. Landon got something different every time. After breakfast, they would ride together across 79th to the Upper East Side, where their car would drop her off at Spence before taking Landon down to Allen-Stevenson.
Maybe he wanted to meet to tell her, after all this time, that he’d rather eat somewhere else, Cat thought sarcastically.
“No time for jokes, Cat,” she said aloud.
No, something was most certainly wrong. He had wanted to meet at the water fountain. He didn’t need to specify which water fountain he meant. They always met at the one on the southwest side of the reservoir when Landon wanted to walk and talk. They only walked and talked when one of them had something particularly serious to discuss.
The snow crunched under her feet as she walked up the road. She reached the gravel path that broke off to the right and led to the reservoir. An icy gust of wind blew her hair across her face and she reached automatically for the elastic band she kept ready around her wrist to pull it into a messy bun. The wind swirled around her again biting through her coat.
Why on earth didn’t I grab my winter coat? Or a scarf at the very least, she wondered, inwardly cursing herself at her own thoughtlessness. It had to be 20 degrees by now, maybe less. She pulled her cashmere gloves out of her Louis and pulled them on, thankful she always had a pair on hand. A true New Yorker, always prepared against the elements.
He was standing with his back to her when she walked up, hands in the pockets of his army green wool military-style jacket. He smartly had his scarf wrapped tightly around him and a gray knit skullcap pulled down over his ears, hiding his always-messy golden curls.
She stopped a few feet away from him. She didn’t call his name. She didn’t clear her throat or do any of the usual things one does to announce themselves. She knew that he knew she was there.
He turned, revealing red eyes, tight firm lips, and a lump in his throat. He’d been crying.
In all the years she had known him, Cat had only seen Landon cry once. It was when they were seven, and he had forced her to rent Godzilla vs. Mothra at Blockbuster when she had begged him to watch Beauty and the Beast for the 10,000th time. At the end of the movie, when Mothra died, the utterly devastated Landon had broken down in sobs. They joked about it often, but it had remained, until this moment, the only time she’d seen him cry.
She needn’t run to him. He wouldn’t want to be coddled. She simply stepped to his side, took his hand, and they began to walk. She looked so petite beside his lanky 6’ 4” frame, even though she was 5’ 6” herself. She held his hand tightly as they walked together.
Cat didn’t mind the darkness. The lights of the city and the street lamps around the reservoir provided ample light.
They walked.
Once around the reservoir.
Twice.
They were beginning to walk around a third time when he finally spoke. It was a good thing too, seeing as how the panic and worry was about to rip Cat to pieces on the inside.
“Divorce,” he said quietly.
Cat stared at him. So many parents they knew had gotten divorced. It never seemed like a big deal. Now, it seemed like a catastrophe.
“Lan-,” she began.
“He’s screwing his secretary,” he practically shouted, “SCREWING his secretary!” he repeated at the top of his lungs to emphasize his anger. The pigeons heard him loud and clear as they flew from their cozy perches in the branches above and from the nearby stone building at the south end of the reservoir where they stood.
He sat quickly on the stone bench adjacent to the building and buried his head in his hands. Cat trembled, either from the cold or the sight of her best friend in agony, she wasn’t sure. The temperature was dropping fast, and with as much trouble as she and Landon had gotten into in the past, they had never been in Central Park so late before on their own. Her teeth started to chatter as she sat beside him and laid her head on his shoulder. Landon sat upright; unwinding the scarf from his neck, he wrapped it around hers.
“Leave it to you to come out at night in the middle of January in nothing but James Jeans and a Burberry coat,” and with that, he kissed her forehead in a brotherly fashion and gave a sad smile.
Cat pursed her lips and crinkled her nose at him, “Thanks.”
Now that she thought about it, sitting down on a cold stone bench was not very bright — her backside had gone numb in a matter of minutes. They sat there in silence, hand in hand.
Anyone who saw them would have pegged them as young lovers. The lights, the mist on the water, the snow piled to the side--it would have provided the perfect romantic backdrop. But it wasn’t like that between them. Never had been, never would be. He was her protector and she was his guiding light.
The thought of talking to Landon about romance, or worse, about what they had done with the opposite sex made her uneasy. It would be like talking to a brother. Uncomfortable. She knew he was more experienced than her in that area, but she had no desire to know the details. Of course, other than a few kisses in truth or dare, she didn’t have much to tell.
They sat that way, hand in hand, until she heard a distant church bell tolling the midnight hour. The knowledge that she would be grounded the second she walked in the door didn’t put her in any hurry to get up. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was freezing her butt off, she would have been content to sit with him all night. Instead, she focused on the visible breath she created from each exhale. Tears were steady on Landon’s cheeks and she fought the urge to wipe them away with her sleeve. What if they froze? Could tears do that? Oh, the thoughts that creep into our minds when it’s 25 degrees on a stone bench in Central Park.
Landon turned to look at her, bringing her mind back to the moment. He wiped his eyes and stood up, pulling her up firmly and draping his arm easily over her shoulders.
“I guess you’ll only have three lives left after your parents get through with you tonight,” he said with a wink.
“Two, Landon. Two lives left,” Cat responded resolutely.
“Two? Damn. I guess that means we’ll have to start being careful.”
She could hear his voice echoing in her head as the memory faded away. She was still staring at the cover of the book. If the memory was gone, then why was she suddenly so cold? Seriously, freezing cold. She snapped back to reality to realize the man beside her had just inadvertently tossed the ice in his cup into her lap. He was already stringing together a handful of apologies and brushing the ice off of her with his napkin before she reacted. Taking the napkin from him with a polite smile, she began to dry the water of
f of her pants.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” she mumbled.
“Oh, I see you go to Spence,” the man remarked, obviously trying to be overly pleasant towards her after the ice accident.
“Your class ring,” he added, after Cat gave him what must have been a look of sheer confusion.
“Oh, hmm,” Cat replied, glancing at her ring and then turning her attention back to cleaning up her pants, though there was no more she could do.
“Fantastic school,” the man continued, “My daughter went there. You probably wouldn’t know her, she graduated six years ago. Abigail Wyatt.”
Cat shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. She had heard the name, but didn’t want this conversation to last any longer than it had to. She wasn’t in the mood for any small talk at the moment, particularly any that involved Spence.
“She’s at Harvard Law now,” he continued proudly, “Of course, you’ll be able to get in anywhere with a diploma from Spence.”
He shot her a winning smile as though this news was new to her or should make her feel better. It only made her nauseous.
“So I hear,” she replied, trying with all her might to keep her voice from shaking, as she turned her attention to her novel, pretending to be completely engrossed.
This stranger’s comment would serve as the first reminder that she was no longer a part of her old world. That somewhere in the last few months, her life had changed its course. Perhaps only for a little while, perhaps forever.
Chapter Three
“Miss, excuse me, miss,” the flight attendant leaned in to Cat, waking her from a deep, dreamless sleep. “You need to raise your seat up now. We’ll be landing soon.”
The morning sun shone all too brightly as Cat opened the window shade and moved her seat into the upright position. Rubbing her eyes with her cardigan, she noticed the book in her lap was still open to page two. She had read and reread the first two pages probably a dozen times and still wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what it said.
“The time in Charlotte is 8:35 am, and it is currently 67 degrees, a high of 84 today and sunny. Looks like a perfect day,” the voice of the captain said brightly, as they began their descent into Charlotte-Douglas International Airport.
“Perfect,” she muttered sarcastically under her breath.
Is there ever the “perfect” day to move from Eden into exile? She had a bitter taste in her mouth. Even though her recent living situation with her parents was a self-proclaimed hell as of late, she could only imagine that this relocation would just be a new level of purgatory.
The plane took a sharp turn down and to the right, momentarily positioning itself over Lake Norman and giving Cat a view of people in boats and watercrafts, out early to enjoy the beginning of a beautiful weekend. Little white lines shone dazzlingly off the lake where speedboats and jet skis had already begun to weave their way across the water. Cat could only spot a couple of them, but she knew by lunchtime the waters would be teeming.
The sky was a cheerful robin’s egg blue — clear, fresh, and full of promise. It made Cat positively nauseous under the circumstances. The scene could not have been more different than when she sat on the runway at 6:10 that morning. If only the storm in her life could be transformed as quickly as the weather. Angrily, she pulled the shade back down, blocking the view from the ice-spiller beside her who had been craning his neck to get a view of the lake. A momentary pang of guilt clutched around her heart. She closed her eyes and refused to feel sorry for anyone; well, anyone other than herself.
Smoothly, the plane glided onto the runway, approached the gate, and came to a halt. There was no denying it now. She was in North Carolina. Her grandmother would be waiting at baggage claim to take her to her new home in Boone. Her knees didn’t allow her to move. She sat there fiddling with her belongings, much longer than necessary, until she was the only passenger left on board. Her eyes began to burn as she pushed herself up.
No, don’t cry, her mind willed; you will not be a cry baby, Cat. Don’t you dare let go now.
She had held her composure this long. She knew once she started, it would be impossible to stop. Not to mention how embarrassing it would be to fall to pieces in the middle of the airport.
Her legs felt like lead as she dragged them forward, off the plane, and towards baggage claim. One quick stop at the restroom before her reunion with Mimi she decided quickly, as she passed the door — anything to postpone the inevitable.
Entering, she was caught off guard by her reflection in the mirror. She nearly didn’t recognize herself. Walking towards her reflection, she touched her own face — it felt like some scene from a movie when the character simply can’t believe what they’re seeing. Only, Cat could completely believe it.
“Ugh,” she groaned audibly as she tried to vigorously rub some color into her pallid cheeks.
Her unkempt waves had come half-way down during the flight. She pulled her hair down and expertly whipped it up once more into a fashionably messy bun. She unwrapped her thin cashmere cardigan from over her shoulders and peeled it off to splash some water on her bare arms. Then, she bent over the sink to rinse her face. Drying it with a paper towel, she stepped back for inspection. No makeup — though her clear complexion didn’t make it necessary. She could live without that. The dark circles under her eyes bore witness to the many sleepless nights she had been experiencing lately. Her gray tank hung loosely off her shoulders. Only now did she notice how terribly thin she’d allowed herself to become in the last few months. Echoing somewhere in the distant corner of her mind, she heard the shrill voice of her mother. Those premonitions about letting what had happened to Landon affect her eating habits invaded her thoughts. Evasively, she covered herself back up with the cardigan. The skinny jeans and Tory Burch flats finished the look she had had minutes to throw together this morning. If only she’d been granted the time to shower. She still smelled like the Greenwich Avenue dive bar she’d been dragged out of at three a.m. by her father. How utterly embarrassing! Touching a dangling curl to her nose, she inhaled the scent of cigarette smoke and wrinkled her nose.
Convinced there was nothing more to be done, she finished up in the restroom before resuming her march toward fate: Mimi.
Her mom’s mother, Martha Wilson, or Mimi as she was known by her two granddaughters, was a farmer through and through. She still ran the family Christmas tree farm on her own, even though Pop had passed away four years prior. Only 65 years old, she looked young for her age, despite the lines on her face from years of hard work in the sun. She had been 18 when she had Cat’s mother, only a year older than Cat was now. Cat couldn’t even begin to imagine having a child so young. They saw her for Thanksgiving each year, but rarely on any other occasion. Mimi’s relationship with her daughter had been strained since Darcie’s move to New York City. After she chose to remain in New York City and raise her daughters there, the strain gave way to an almost complete but not eternal dissolving of their relationship. It had begun to mend over the last few years.
Cat scanned the crowd for her as she descended the escalator into baggage claim. She saw happy reunions happening all around her, she wondered how she would be received. She loved Mimi, of course, but they had never spent more than a few days together at a time. Living with her for a year was sure to be interesting. She hadn’t seen her in nearly two years since she had gone with Landon’s family on their Thanksgiving ski trip to Banff the year before. Finally, she spotted her standing towards the back; raising her hand halfway, she gave a small wave and tried her best to smile. Her greeting was reciprocated with more enthusiasm, as Mimi hurried forward with arms open wide.
“I already have your bag, Catie-bug,” she informed, “Now, let me look at you.” She pushed away from her embrace, and examined Cat’s haphazard appearance.
Mimi, Pop, and Lili had been the only people to ever call her Catie. She had liked it
as a child, but now it sounded just that — childish.
Mimi clucked her tongue as she looked Cat over, making her feel entirely self-conscious. Her eyes scanned Cat’s waif-like figure, but stopped when they met her eyes. It’s as though she could see the weight of Cat’s sorrow in them. She brushed a strand of hair from her granddaughter’s face and put her arm around her thin shoulders.
“Let’s get you home,” she said finally.
“Mimi,” Cat wasn’t sure what to say. Should she tell her she had no desire whatsoever to live in the mountains, go to public school, or help out on the farm? How much had her mother told Mimi, she wondered? Did she know about Landon? Cat hadn’t thought to ask her mother any of these questions when she had told her this morning that they were sending her to North Carolina. No, after hearing that news, Cat had a few other thoughts to express to her parents.
“Thank you for coming to get me,” she concluded. Politeness was the best route she decided. Mimi would probably reveal what she knew in due time.
“Of course,” she smiled, leading her outside towards the terminal parking lot.
“I don’t know what mom told you,” Cat began, she needed to face some facts rather than pretend that she was only here on vacation, or of her own free will.
“Catie,” her grandmother’s tone turned suddenly serious, “I don’t know what’s been going on in New York City. I only know that the things your mother said you’d gotten into don’t sound a bit like the Catie I know. She told me what happened … about your friend.”
“Landon,” Cat interrupted.
“Yes, Landon,” Mimi continued, “I’m sorry. It’s terrible what happened, Catie. It’s just awful. This time away will be good for you. You need to find yourself again, sugar. Sometimes, when tragedy happens, we let it take over our lives and we get lost along the way.”
What Cat Lost (The Last Life of Cat Book 1) Page 2