Kissed by an Angel

She copied it down. 'And who is this?' she asked.

'Tristan.'

Chapter 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 the 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