The Promise of Paradise

Chapter Seven


Sunday morning, Ash awoke to the sound of rain drumming the rooftop. Great. She’d planned on checking out the antique shops over in Silver Creek that afternoon. She rolled over and pushed her face into her pillow. Somehow, the idea of tromping through puddles on her way to and from the car didn’t appeal. She eyed the clock. Six a.m. Gray light filtered through the curtains. It curled into the corners of the bedroom and draped itself around her shoulders. No reason to get up, she thought, slipping back into sleep. No reason at all.

As she moved back toward dreams, she wondered if the rain would clear later on. Eddie had promised to come up and watch the baseball game with her, explain once and for all why the Red Sox southpaw was the league’s best pitcher in twenty years. If the lousy weather postponed the opening pitch, she’d likely be stuck watching Lifetime movies or Seinfeld reruns by herself.

“The Sox are playing the Yankees this weekend,” he’d told her Friday, over chicken lo mein (his) and tofu with seaweed (hers). “I’ll stop up on Sunday and show you how a real baseball fan watches the game.”

“You do that,” she answered, smiling at him as they counted fireflies from the rooftop. “You do that…”

* * *

The next sound Ash heard was a slam. Then a shout. She sat straight up in bed and stared at the clock. Quarter to eleven. Rain still poured down, pattering against the windows. She reached for her robe and listened for the sound that had pulled her from sleep. Nothing for a minute. Then it came again: a series of thumps, followed by a male voice swearing. Eddie’s voice. Ash swung her feet over the edge of the bed and rubbed her eyes.

What the hell is going on down there?

Now it sounded like he was running in circles around his apartment. Is he working out? Doing laps instead of going to the gym? Ash made her way to the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot. She knew the guy kept himself in shape, but in his own apartment? On a Sunday morning?

His date. He’s with his date from last night, that woman from Silver Creek. Cheri something. Ash’s cheeks warmed. Of course. They were probably playing some kind of silly morning-after game, running half naked around his apartment while she winked and squealed and played hard to get. Before Ash could stop herself, the vision slipped inside her mind’s eye: Eddie, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, catching the girl with those strong hands. Pulling her close and rubbing gentle thumbs along bare shoulders before leaning in for a kiss. A long kiss. A kiss that began in the hallway and ended somewhere in a tangle of sheets.

Ash pinched the skin on one arm to make herself stop. Don’t think about Eddie that way. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and poured herself a steaming mug of coffee. She doused it with cream and took a long sip, not caring that it burned her tongue. You’re just friends, remember? Just neighbors, two people who share a house. It doesn’t matter who he spend his nights with. Or his mornings.

So why did the thought make her so damned uncomfortable?

Another crash. Ash jumped in her chair. Damn. So the guy had company last night. He didn't have to rub it in. She finished her coffee and shoved the mug away. Well, she might as well shower and find something to do with her day. No use sitting here, listening to Mr. Hotshot Lover chase his latest conquest around the bed.

She wrapped her robe around her and was heading into the bathroom when a knock landed on her door.

“Ash?”

She froze. You’ve got to be kidding me. What, did her want her to play referee?

He knocked again, louder and longer. “Ash? You in there?”

Oh, for Christ’s sake. She was in no mood. She marched to the door and yanked it open. “What do you want?”

Eddie stood in the hallway, a hangdog look on his face. By himself. Ash peered over his shoulder. No model-thin woman hovered behind him. No scent of leftover perfume hung in the air, either. Ash narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on?”

Eddie raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. Barefoot, he wore a pair of frayed sweats, cut off at the knees, and an old Patriots jersey with the sleeves torn off. A fuzz of pillowcase was stuck to his chin, and Ash had to pin her arms to her sides to keep from reaching up to brush it away.

“Can you help me?”

“With what? Sounds like you’re starting up a circus down there.”

“No, it’s…” He glanced over his shoulder, and worry wrinkled his face. When he looked back at her again, she thought she might fall right inside those eyes, those pools of blue, and not come up for a week.

“I found a kitten.” He ducked his chin. “Outside.”

“A what?”

“A kitten. A really small one. It was hanging around last night, and then when I went out to get the paper this morning it was still there, sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. Soaking wet.”

“So you brought it inside?” Ash began to smile. Not a woman after all down there. Just a scared fluff of fur that her strapping, six-foot neighbor had decided to bring in out of the storm. Oh, hell. She was already halfway to falling for this guy. Now he had to turn into a total softy on her?

Eddie shrugged. “Well, it was sort of…limping around. And crying. And I thought if I left it out there I’d be about the worst person in the entire world, so…”

Ash took one step into the hallway. “And now you can’t catch it.”

“Yeah. Thought I’d keep it in the bathroom, but it got out.”

“Come on.” She pushed past Eddie and made her way down the stairs barefoot. She was standing in front of his door before she considered if she should have changed into something more substantial than a cotton robe that barely came to her knees.

“I think he’s under the chair,” Eddie said. As they walked inside, he pointed to a leather recliner in the corner.

Ash tiptoed over and kneeled down, wondering if the breeze on the backs of her thighs meant her robe wasn’t covering much. She readjusted. “I don't see anything.”

“Well…” Eddie turned in a slow circle. “I closed the door. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

Ash pushed herself back up and leaned over a blue corduroy sofa with its tags still attached. A dust ball danced across the hardwood, but no cat. She looked under the end table, and behind Eddie’s entertainment center, which took up half the living room with its enormous television.

Nothing.

“Maybe in the bedroom?” She felt funny looking in there.

“Maybe.” Eddie strode past her down the hall. He whistled under his breath, a meek little coaxing tune that made her smile.

Ash hung back and watched as he looked in the corners of his sparsely furnished bedroom. This place could definitely use a woman’s touch. Someone had hung navy blue curtains on the windows, but otherwise the walls remained bare. A desk and matching chair were the only other pieces of furniture she could see, besides the box spring and mattress lying on the floor. A queen size, she noticed, not too big and not too narrow. Really, just the perfect size for two people to curl up in.

“Ash?” Eddie waved a hand in front of her face. “You still there? Thought you were gonna help me look.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She glanced around at a faint meow. Eddie cocked his head. The meow came again. “Bathroom.” In an instant, he had darted past Ash, and a moment later he emerged holding a soggy ball of black and white. “Got him.”

“Wow. It is small.”

A rumble started up in the kitten's throat.

“I told you.” Eddie peered down at it.

Ash took hold of one of the kitten’s legs and pushed aside damp fur. “There's a cut here. A bad one. No wonder it’s limping.” She lifted a towel off the rack inside the bathroom door and wrapped it around the animal. “Here.” In a moment she had clutched it to her chest, nuzzling it and blotting off the worst of the water. “Might want to get it to a vet. Know anyone who’s open on Sundays?”

“Maybe.” Eddie loped off into the kitchen and re-emerged a moment later, cell phone in hand.

Ash returned to the living room and sat on the couch, kitten in her lap. Bright green eyes looked up at her, and a weak mew escaped its pink mouth. A tiny paw batted at the finger she reached out to it. She grinned. The only pet she and Colin ever had was Buster, the oversized goldfish. She used to watch him swim circles in his stupid glass bowl and wish for just a day that her boyfriend wasn’t deathly allergic to all things furry.

“Now I don’t have to worry about that, do I?” she murmured into the cat’s head.

“Ash?” Eddie appeared in the doorway. “Friend of mine in Tompkins Heights’ll take a look at it this afternoon.”

“Really?” Ash looked up, suddenly aware of the way her robe fell apart at the neck and her bare legs stretched down to the hardwood floor. As she watched, he dropped a glance to her toenails—newly painted red, as of last night in front of the TV—before turning a shade of crimson himself.

“Anyway, thanks for the help.”

“No problem.” She paused. “You know, I wasn’t sure what was going on down here. Thought maybe you were still entertaining your date from last night.”

“Cheri?” He chuckled. “Nah.”

“Things didn’t work out?”

“We had a good time. But she wanted to come in, stay a while, and…” He shrugged.

“You didn’t?”

“Woman stays the night, things get complicated.”

Ash nodded, fingers stroking the kitten’s fur as its purr regulated into a steady rhythm. “And you don’t like things to be complicated.”

“Do you?”

Ash shook her head. No, she answered silently. They’re complicated enough already.