The Gift Ch. 11-15

Chapter 11

There were times when Luciana was thankful for having an assistant. Pam, her assistant of three years, was an older, short-haired woman, who handled everything from phone calls to emails to appointments. After Cleo's passing, she asked her to take a break from work to be able to recover. But now that Luciana was back at work, she realized how much she needed it. She had also told Pam to set her up with appointments as and when they arose, even if that meant going back home.

Her latest project, the upscale apartment in Chicago that she was working on, wouldn't take a long time. The owners wanted to get rid of the walls and the cupboards in the kitchen to make it seem more spacious, and also remodel the master bathroom. In her nine-year career, she had liaised with various architects and surveyors for different projects, which set her apart from many other interior designers who didn't offer architectural services. Two days ago, after Pam set up an appointment with the architects she usually coordinated with, work on the apartment had started. Luciana was due to visit the place at noon that day, so she left the bed and went for a shower.

As she stepped into the glass shower stall, memories of the last few months floated back to her mind. Right from meeting Henry to the breakup to Cleo's sickness and eventual death, nothing about that year made her happy. Henry had been impulsive and wild, and it wasn't surprising because he was a musician who spent a lot of time on the road. He'd wanted her to go out drinking with him every night, mingle with his equally wild group of friends, and come home for a round or two of mindless sex. Yes, mindless. That's how she could best describe their activities in bed. In the beginning, it had been heady and passionate, but he had no regard for her arousal and didn't understand her body. When he failed to please her in the months they'd been together, she'd suggested trying out different things. But he put her off with his response that she shouldn't need help; it should just happen.

It hadn't happened. To make matters worse, he was allergic to cats and never wanted to be anywhere around Cleo. He started to pressure her to settle down with him, even though he knew from the very start that Luciana wasn't ready for it. She didn't remember the last time she had fallen in love or had a deep, meaningful relationship, and here was a man who wanted more of her without caring about her body or emotions. Luciana had felt trapped, and it was surprising because she had always been fiercely independent and never let a man control her.

She leaned against the wall, flinching when the cold tiles touched her skin. Elijah always told her to have more tact in relationships, but she wanted to be able to speak her mind. What good was a relationship if she had to lie and pretend? That wasn't how she was. If she had to be with someone, she wanted to feel comfortable about being her true self.

But she didn't want to think about it anymore, not when the hot water was washing away the soreness she felt in her body. When she closed her eyes, Chris's gentle gaze and soothing smile appeared in her mind, and her eyes flew open.

That was...wrong.

When she had brought Cleo to the hospital, she hadn't thought it would be so hard to overcome the loss or that she'd be so afraid to go back and face an empty house. She had never stayed at Elijah's house for more than a day or two, didn't know any of his neighbors, and couldn't even remember his address from the top of her head on most occasions. But this time, everything was different, especially since she met Chris.

They had spent a lot of time together over the last few days, whether on Elijah's porch before he left for work or at his house after they returned from work. Chris had treated her to Norwegian egg coffee one evening, a recipe he learned from his mother, and as they sat in his cozy study, she had shared little details about her life that she never told anyone else. She told him about her vague memory of her parents, living with their alcoholic uncle after the fire, and eating cereal for every meal because everything else was out of reach. She told him about the time she was sent to a foster home as a seven-year-old when their uncle disappeared after losing a gambling bet and how it broke her heart to be away from Elijah. It hadn't been easy to hide her emotions as she spoke about them— her foster parents were kind and loving people, but to her, home had meant her brother, her only family.

Chris had remained silent throughout, listening to her without judgment. When she'd trailed off, she had felt embarrassed, wondering if she had said too much. She hadn't been able to meet his gaze, but when he had gently reached over to hold her hand, Luciana had felt like she could forget the world.

She hadn't been able to stop thinking about him. From the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled to his ridiculous song and dance routine while mowing the lawn or the way he acted like a five-year-old on steroids while playing with the neighbor's dog, there was so much about him that she liked and hadn't been able to get out of her head. The thoughts made a tinge of guilt surface inside her. It was too soon to move on from her loss. Cleo was all she had and she wasn't ready to replace her memories with erotic thoughts filled with the promise of something new. It seemed like a good distraction but it also made her feel like a bad person for getting over her cat's death so soon.

As she stepped out of the shower, she knew what to do. She needed to return home to Madison.

Luciana remained at the site for two hours, happy that she had something to keep her occupied again. There were several instances when the client's dream interiors didn't resonate with her personal taste. This was one such project. Luciana wanted her living space to be neat and organized with most of the clutter hidden from view. But her new clients wanted to get rid of the cupboards and hang the pots and pans right above the kitchen counter. They also wanted a TV and a coffee maker in the bathroom.

It wasn't hard for her to visualize her client's needs even if they were different from her own tastes. She was a feminine girl, her preferred home décor being cozy and romantic. But not everyone had the same choices.

She remembered the time when she and Matt bought their duplex together. While Matt had wanted his apartment to be mostly black and white, Luciana had wanted hers to be pink, white and gold. It had taken her weeks to come up with the right décor for her apartment. It wasn't a new building and had been sitting around gathering dust for years because of a legal dispute between the owners. When the case was dismissed, the building was put up for sale, and not many wanted to buy it because of the work it needed. She and Matt had decided to buy it, simply because it was in a prime location and was selling at a bargain price.

The renovation hadn't been easy, though.

The day she moved in, she'd spent the whole night sneezing. It had seemed like all the dust in the whole world had been collected and stored in that apartment. The roof, walls, windows, and kitchen had needed repair, so Luciana had worked with her architects to make her designs come to life. Matt's apartment had even gone on to feature in Vogue, because of the classy black interiors. It had taken three months for the place to finally look like Luciana's dream home. There were balconies, a patio, a master suite with a walk-in closet, and a home office that looked like a million bucks. The filthy pond had been converted into a clear, sparkling swimming pool, and with regular maintenance, the yard was now a nice garden, full of blooming flowers.

Besides the coziness of the apartment, she liked that her best friend lived in the same building. It was much like living together without actually living together. They shared the pool and the lawn, played tennis in the evenings, and sat on the patio after dinner, sharing some good-natured banter.

It was a windy day in Chicago, the gusts of strong breeze blowing the leaves off the trees. As Luciana drove to the cat shelter, she realized it was Nature's way of helping the trees shed the dry leaves. Every time the wind came rolling in, the trees swayed and let the leaves fall into piles on the street, only to be swept away in the air.

This was Luciana's third day at the shelter. After visiting with Chris the first time, she had wanted to return with food, toys, and blankets, which she had done a few days later. But today, she was there for Poppy, the cat with the sad eyes that had called out to her.

There was something about loneliness that oddly spoke to her. She had seen it in her brother's eyes for years, she had felt it within herself after Cleo left, and when she gently stroked her head, she saw the same on her face. In only three days, Poppy had memorized her scent. Even before she approached her basket, she rose from her bed and came walking towards her, meowing softly. Luciana saw the limp, and it saddened her to think that she couldn't join the other cats when they ran and played.

Over her last two visits, Luciana had talked to the shelter staff to learn more about Poppy. She had found out that she loved sardines, blueberries, and cheese, that shoelaces were her favorite toy, and that she had a special attachment to the yellow blanket she slept on. She also learned that unlike many other cats there, Poppy was good with children.

Since her last visit, Luciana found out that nearly twenty cats had been adopted from the shelter, what with the holiday season knocking on the door. The shelter staff told her that Poppy wasn't the chosen one for most because she was shy and easily scared and couldn't jump and play like other healthy cats.

Luciana didn't care about the reasons why other people had cast a blind eye towards Poppy during the open house events. She also didn't care that the cat was shy and easily scared of people (something to do with her traumatic injury not too long ago) and loved nothing more than to snuggle in her yellow blanket. All she cared about was the look on her face when Luciana sat next to her and gently talked to her. The shelter staff also told her that ever since her first visit, Poppy would look forward to seeing her every day.

Life at the shelter was difficult for any cat. She didn't blame the hardworking shelter staff because they already did their best to make the transition as easy and stress-free as possible. But for many cats, shelter life could be extraordinarily upsetting and lonely, especially if they craved human companionship but were too shy or scared to express it.

That day, as she read Poppy a story while stroking her head, she suddenly climbed into her lap and started to knead. Luciana thought she was sleepy and wanted to snuggle in her lap, but taking her by surprise, Poppy flopped down, exposing her belly, and began to tap her hand with her paws.

"What?" Luciana wondered aloud, putting the book away. "Do you want to play?"

Poppy kept rolling from side to side and pawing her hands. Luciana giggled. "Alright, we'll play stick 'em up," she said. "Come on."

For the next ten minutes, Poppy played the tickling game with her, where she tickled her belly and she curled up, flung her limbs and meowed. If she was human, she would have giggled aloud. That was the happiest she had ever seen Poppy, going crazy for the tickles on her lap.

For a moment there, Luciana wanted to cry. That was the first game she had played with Cleo, the day she found her. Even as a grown cat, Cleo's love for that game hadn't dwindled. Playing with Poppy was eerily familiar; she was black-and-white, fluffy, calm and mellow and loved many of the same things as Cleo did, including being read to and playing the tickle game. It was as if the Universe was sending signals to her, trying to tell her something.

When she returned home distracted and brooding in the evening, Luciana decided to vacuum to get her mind off the thoughts. Elijah had no time for household chores. He had a gardener who came by once a week to mow the lawn, and there was a cleaner that came twice a month to vacuum and mop. Because the cleaner hadn't been around since Luciana arrived at Elijah's house, she decided to do the cleaning herself.

As she dragged the vacuum cleaner out of the closet in the basement, Luciana tried to not think of Cleo and her hatred for any kind of device that made a loud noise. She used to close the bathroom door while blow-drying her hair and let Cleo out in the garden while cleaning the house. On days she mowed the lawn, Cleo used to watch from the window, suspiciously eyeing the machine.

She allowed the noise of the vacuum cleaner to drown out her thoughts. First, she did the living and dining rooms, kitchen, bathroom and spare bedroom on the lower level. Next, she proceeded to the bedrooms on the second level, including Elijah's room and her own.

Her brother was organized with his belongings. His neat and tidy room didn't bear any mark of a single man with no time for homely chores. The bed was decently made, no clothes were spilling out of the closet and the desk looked neat. Luciana went with the vacuum to the nook and corners, lifting the carpet under the bed to remove the thin sheet of dust. While stepping back, she tripped on the chord and bumped into the desk, and as she tried to break her fall, she ended up scattering the books on the floor.

Turning off the machine and putting it to a side, she crouched on the floor to pick up the books. Some of them were academic books on forensic science and criminal psychology, while a few others were crime thrillers. Elijah was devoted to his job; even when he wasn't at work, he surrounded himself with things that reminded him of his profession and position.

She neatly arranged the books in a pile and rose from the floor, looking down when something slipped out of one of the books. Luciana stared at the floor, unable to believe what she saw.

A picture. And a CD.

"Oh my god." The words left her lips in a breathless whisper as she picked up the fallen items. The picture was first to catch her eye. There was no mistaking it.

Michelle.

Luciana's hand flew to her mouth as she tried to stop a gasp. It was an old picture, the way she remembered Michelle. Her heart madly pounded in her chest, threatening to burst out. Never in a million years had she imagined Elijah lying to her. Lying about not loving her or missing her, lying about being over it when he was not. And how could he? She was the only girl he ever truly loved. Even after all those years, he had kept her close to his heart, unable to let go.

She put the items back where they had fallen out from. Even without looking she knew what the CD was. Wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye, she dragged the vacuum cleaner out of the room, her breaths coming in short pants as she climbed down the stairs.

Elijah was a classic example of missed opportunities. He'd had the greatest thing in the world that no amount of money, professional success or social status could buy him. But he'd chosen to let it go.

Luciana didn't want to be like him. She could see the signs and she wanted to follow her heart. She didn't want to pass up an opportunity and regret it for the rest of her life.

Slipping on her boots, she stepped out of the house, knowing where to go.

---

Never in his life had Chris been at such a loss over what to write. He had written and published three best-selling books so far, and here he was, unable to think of a 5000-word magazine article. He had thought of asking his father for help but later decided against it. Writing wasn't new to him. But every time he tried to focus, random thoughts got in the way.

Maybe not so random, after all. There was only one object of his distraction, and it was next door.

Perhaps Luciana should have gone back home. But not being able to see her every day would be even worse. Even when she had resumed work and wasn't home most of the day, Chris took solace in the fact that she had been getting better, slowly but surely recovering from the loss. Every now and then, he could see the flash of a smile on her face, and despite himself, it made his heart flip.

He closed his laptop and dropped his face in his hands, trying to stop the thoughts swimming inside his head. Suddenly his mother's words rang in his ears— confused and distracted heart. He snorted to himself when he remembered that. His mother had always known him better than he knew himself.

He had worked out with his brother that day, a grueling day of strength training. An equal balance of rest, workout and diet was the secret to his muscular physique, with less than three percent of body fat. Afterward, he'd had dinner with his brother and his girlfriend. Growing up, they were the best of friends and the worst of foes. They played, they fought, they wrestled, they rolled in the mud, but never took more than a few minutes to make up and start over again. Jack was younger than Chris but looked almost identical to him. Many of their friends or family members still confused the two of them. Chris's long hair often served as the visible distinguishing factor.

He was about to head to bed and read for a while when the doorbell rang. Fixing his shirt, he left the chair and walked out to the living room, turning on the foyer light. When he opened the door, he found Luciana on his porch. Their eyes remained locked for a few seconds, and Chris tried his best to not let his gaze wander lower, to the outline of her perky bosom, the glimpse of cleavage, and her small waist highlighted by the material of her t-shirt. It was cold outside and he suddenly seemed to be aware that she wasn't warm enough.

"Why are you without warm clothing?" he frowned, stepping aside to let her enter. She stopped shivering once she was inside the house.

"I wasn't thinking," she replied, folding her arms around herself. She kept her gaze low, trying to not stare at the deep neckline of his loose t-shirt and the bulging chest muscles it revealed. "I needed to talk to you, so I rushed out."

"Do you know you can get very sick from being out in the cold?" he asked, leading her to the couch. Luciana rolled her eyes, glad he didn't see it.

"I do," she retorted playfully. "Mother hen."

"Hey, everyone can use a mother hen sometimes," he turned to mock glare at her. "What was so urgent anyway?"

Luciana sat on the couch, wondering how to broach the subject. Chris stood next to her with folded arms, scrutinizing her. Despite being thin, she was shapely. Her toned physique led him to believe she was into exercising, although she had lost so much weight in the last few weeks, she could consume all the calories in the world and still not get fat.

"Ehm..." She cleared her throat, clasping her hands together. "I want to talk to you about Poppy."

"Poppy?" he frowned, sitting next to her. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I... I want to adopt her," she offered hesitantly. Chris stared at her face for a minute.

"You want to adopt Poppy?" he wondered aloud. "But you--"

"I've been to the shelter the last few days to see her," she explained. "It breaks my heart every time I visit her... She's so lonely. She clings to me and doesn't want to let go."

She leaned back, taking in a deep breath. "I cannot help but think about Cleo when I see her," she said. "She looks like her, has a personality like her, and she snuggles up to me the way Cleo did."

Turning towards him, she held his hands. "I cannot stand going back to an empty house," she confessed, her moist eyes locked with his. "I want to take her home with me."

"Luciana, calm down." He gently held her by the arms, trying to still her trembling body. "You're still very weak. Such excitement isn't good for you."