Nine Lives
When Mel Novak was promoted to senior vice president of Danvers Industries, along with the new title and increase in salary came a change of address. Mel had to uproot his wife and two children from their home in western Massachusetts and relocate them to Boston.
Shirley Novak was not exactly overjoyed about leaving her four-bedroom Tudor-style home with an acre of professionally landscaped lawn to live in a condominium in the heart of the city, yet she willingly made the sacrifice for the sake of her husband's career. However, the couple's six-year-old daughter, Kirsten, was heartbroken at having to leave her school, her friends and, most of all, the family's Irish setter, Penny.
"Why can't we bring Penny with us?" the child cried. "Don't they like dogs in Boston?"
"Of course, they do," Shirley explained, "but Penny is used to taking walks and playing outdoors. She would never be happy cooped up inside all day. That's why she'll be better off living at Grandma's house. And you can play with her when you visit your grandparents."
"I don't think I'll be very happy in the city either," Kirsten whined, with a pronounced pout on her freckled face.
"There are a lot of things for a little girl to do in Boston," Mel told her.
"Like what?"
"Well ... there are the swan boats in the Boston Public Garden, for one thing. Then there are the ice-skating rink, the spray pool and the carousel at the Frog Pond on the Common."
"What's a Common?"
"It's a park where Daddy and I will take you to play."
Kirsten grudgingly decided to give Boston a chance, but she doubted visiting a city park would be as enjoyable as having swings and a sliding pond in her own backyard.
Unlike his older sister, three-month-old Kelsey Novak had no opinion on the family's migration to Beantown. He had never played in the turtle-shaped sandbox, glided through the air on the rope swing or run through the sprinkler on a hot summer day. He was far too young to have jumped into a pile of raked leaves, roller-skated on the driveway, built a snowman on the front lawn or sledded down the snow-covered, sloping backyard on a plastic toboggan.
Despite any misgivings they may have had, the Novaks relocated to their condo in the early spring. Mel immediately set about meeting his coworkers and learning the duties of his new position while Shirley took on the arduous task of unpacking and decorating all the rooms of their new home. Kirsten was enrolled in a nearby elementary school, and Kelsey was moved into his new nursery.
The first several weeks of living in the city were exciting ones for Kirsten. She had a new home to explore, a new bedroom with a Disney princess décor, a new school with a pretty, young teacher and twenty-five classmates to play with. Once the novelty wore off, however, she began to miss her old home, her old bedroom, her old school and teacher and her old friends. More than anything else, though, she missed Penny.
Then one day while she was sitting in the small courtyard of their building with Bobby Anderson, a ten-year-old boy who lived two floors below the Novaks, Kirsten spotted an old gray tabby cat lying in the sun, cleaning its paws.
"Whose cat is that?" she asked.
Bobby shrugged and replied, "No one's. It's just a stray. Some of the people in the building throw it scraps and leftovers, so it hangs around waiting for handouts."
"Where does it sleep?"
"Most likely in the alley, under the dumpster."
"Poor kitty!"
The cat picked its head up, and its green eyes narrowed. It seemed to stare directly at the little girl. Then it slowly sauntered over to her and rubbed against her leg. Kirsten petted the animal's head and gently scratched the fur beneath its ear. The old cat let out a rusty, rasping purr.
"He likes you," Bobby observed.
"I like him, too."
Kirsten and the old gray tabby cat soon became best friends. In the mornings, the cat would wait outside the building entrance for Kirsten to appear, for the little girl always had a slice of boiled ham or roast beef or a chunk of tasty cheese for the cat that she dubbed "Buddy."
* * *
As spring came to its inevitable conclusion and the hot, humid days of summer approached, Kirsten made another friend: an elderly woman, much older than any person the little girl had ever met before. When she first glimpsed the old lady sitting alone in the courtyard, she could not help staring at the thinning gray hair and the deep wrinkles that cut into the woman's pale, papery skin.
"You must be Kirsten," the aged woman said, looking at the child with her piercing green eyes.
"Yes, I am. But how did you know?"
Kirsten had been warned by both her parents and her teachers about speaking to strangers, but if the woman knew her name, then she obviously wasn't a stranger.
"This is my home, little one. I know everyone's name in this building. Your parents are Melvin and Shirley Novak, and you have a younger brother named Kelsey."
Kirsten nodded her head.
"He's just a baby, though. He can't play with me yet. Most of the children in the building are too young to come outside, except for Bobby Anderson, that is. He's ten."
"That's what ... five years older than you?" the old woman asked.
"Four years, but I play with him sometimes. Of course, if there are any other boys around, then he pretends he doesn't know me. They don't want to play with girls, you see."
"Give them a few years, and all that will change," the old woman said with a rusty, raspy laugh.
"But who will I play with until then?"
"You can play with me."
The old woman smiled, a gesture that made her seem years younger.
"What do you like to do?" Kirsten asked, eager for another playmate, regardless of her age.
"I can't get around too well, not with these old legs, but we can play board games or card games. If you have crayons we can color. Or, if you prefer, I can read to you or tell you stories. I promise I won't bore you."
At least four days a week that summer Kirsten met the old woman in the courtyard. The two would sit on a bench for hours playing Go Fish, Old Maid, Candy Land or Chutes and Ladders. Sometimes Kirsten would sit on the old woman's lap and listen to stories from Hans Christian Andersen or the Brothers Grimm. Other times, Kirsten would bring coloring books and a box of Crayola crayonss with her, and the two would color. No matter what they did, the little girl always enjoyed their time together.
* * *
Autumn chased away the heat, brought a chill to the air and added an abundance of color to the trees on the Common. In September Kirsten entered the second grade and no longer had as much time to play with the old woman in the courtyard. Despite classes and homework, however, she still managed to see her elderly playmate, Buddy Anderson and the gray cat every day.
As the days grew colder, Kirsten started wearing first a fall jacket and then a winter coat when she played outdoors. Her hands began to get cold, and her mother took the woolen mittens down from the top of her closet.
"Poor Buddy," Kirsten said, seeing her breath frost in the air, "you must get cold at night sleeping outside."
The cat sat curled up in the girl's lap, purring happily.
"And tonight it's supposed to snow. I'll tell you what. If you promise to be very quiet, I'll sneak you into my bedroom. You can sleep there where it's nice and warm."
The cat rubbed its head against Kirsten's cheek as if thanking the child for her kindness. Yet despite the little girl's efforts to keep the cat a secret, Shirley Novak found the animal in her daughter's room later that evening.
"Who gave you permission to bring a cat into the house, young lady?"
"It's so cold outside, Mommy," Kirsten offered as an excuse. "And I heard Daddy say we could get up to ten inches of snow."
"What's going on?" Mel asked when he heard his name being mentioned.
"Your daughter has a cat in her room."
The old cat sat quietly on the rug beside Kirsten's pink canopy bed, patiently awaiting the outcome of the family argument.
"Can I keep him, Daddy? Please! It's so cold out there, and he has nowhere to sleep."
Kirsten and Shirley both looked at Mel, each of them hoping for a different answer from him.
"I don't see why not," he replied, after weighing the options. "Cats make good pets for people who live in condos."
Kirsten's blue eyes lit up with joy, and a wide smile broke out on her face. Shirley, on the other hand, angrily glared at her husband. As they left their daughter's room, the Novaks continued their discussion.
"There'll be cat hair all over the new rugs and furniture," Shirley complained. "And it will have to be trained to use a litter box."
"Did you see how old that cat is?" Mel countered. "I doubt it will live much longer."
"And what about the baby?" Shirley continued. "What if the cat gets into the crib while he's sleeping?"
"Cats don't really suck the breath out of sleeping babies. That's just an old wives' tale. But if it bothers you, then keep the cat away from the nursery."
"How am I supposed to do that?"
"Keep the door shut at night. You have a baby monitor on the side of his crib. You'll hear Kelsey if he wakes up."
Shirley was still not convinced that having a cat was a wise decision.
"Come on, Shirl," her husband coaxed. "It'll mean a lot to Kirsten to have a pet again. She's been trying so hard to make the adjustment to the new place. I think she deserves it."
* * *
The following morning the old gray cat strolled into the Novaks' kitchen where Kirsten was eating a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. Seeing the animal, the little girl got up from the table and took down the bowl of warm milk from the counter.
"Here you are, Buddy," she announced as she placed the plastic bowl on the floor. "Enjoy your breakfast."
Mel put down his coffee mug and said, "We'll need to go to the store this afternoon and buy some cat food."
"Don't forget the litter box," Shirley added, still not happy about taking on the responsibility of having a pet in the condo. "And get some air freshener while you're at it."
When the cat was done lapping up its milk, Mel picked the animal up and examined it.
"Looks pretty healthy," he pronounced, "despite his age—or rather her age."
"Her?" Kirsten echoed. "I thought Buddy was a boy."
"Afraid not, honey. Looks like you're going to have to rename your cat."
"I think I'll call her Mrs. Tilden then," she announced after briefly considering and quickly rejecting princess names such as Ariel, Jasmine, Merida and Belle.
"What an odd name for a cat!" Shirley laughed.
"It's my friend's name."
"What friend is that?" Mel asked.
"Mrs. Tilden. She's an old lady who lives in this building. I played with her down in the courtyard all summer long."
The conversation suddenly ended when wailing from the nursery signaled that Kelsey was awake. Shirley went to get him from his crib, and Kirsten left to take her cat outside.
"Come on, Mrs. Tilden. It's Saturday, and I have no school today. So we can go out and play."
Shirley returned, carrying the freshly diapered baby in her arms.
"Who's this Mrs. Tilden?" Mel asked his wife.
"I don't know. This is the first I've heard of her. I thought Kirsten was playing with Bobby Anderson all this time."
"I don't recall ever seeing the name Tilden on the mail slots downstairs."
"Maybe she lives with one of her children. Old people often do."
"That's possible," Mel conceded, opening his newspaper to the sports section. "Still, I think I'll ask around and see if any of the neighbors have heard of her."
"Why? The woman has obviously been very nice to our daughter."
"I don't doubt it. Just the same, I'd like to know who she is."
No one that Mel questioned had ever heard of Mrs. Tilden. Furthermore, no one was aware of any old woman living in the building. The tenants were predominantly young professionals.
"Kirsten," Mel said one Sunday afternoon, "I'd like to meet your friend, Mrs. Tilden—the woman, not the cat."
"I haven't seen her lately. She never comes down to the courtyard anymore. Maybe it's too cold for her."
"Well, if you do see her again, you'll let me know, won't you?"
The old woman was most likely harmless, but where his children's safety was concerned, Mel Novak didn't trust anyone.
* * *
A month later when Kirsten was coming home from school, she met the human Mrs. Tilden in the building's lobby.
"Hello, Kirsten," the old woman said in a faint voice.
"Mrs. Tilden! I haven't seen you in such a long time. Where have you been?"
"I've been taking it easy," she said in a weak, breathless voice. "Lately, I don't have the energy to leave my room."
Tears came to Kirsten's eyes. She loved the old woman who had been so kind to her all summer and knew that she probably didn't have long to live.
"Kirsten," Mrs. Tilden said sadly, "I doubt we'll ever see each other again, and I ...."
The little girl began sobbing.
"Don't say that!" she cried.
"You mustn't cry, dear. I don't want you to be sad. I just want you to know how much I've grown to care about you," the old woman continued. "No one has ever been as nice to me as you have. I wish I had a granddaughter like you."
Several people entered the lobby and turned toward the crying child. Mrs. Tilden shrunk back into the shadows.
"You'd better go upstairs now," she warned. "Your mother will begin to worry about you."
"Oh, please don't leave!"
"I'm afraid I don't have any choice in the matter, my dear."
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Kirsten slowly walked to the elevator. When she turned around, she saw that Mrs. Tilden was already gone. The sad little girl got off the elevator and walked to the door of the apartment. Sitting beside the welcome mat, waiting to be let inside, was her cat. When the little girl opened the door, the animal hobbled into the kitchen where it briefly nibbled its food and then curled up in a ball and slept.
"That cat isn't acting right," Shirley told Mel at dinner that evening.
"Oh, no? What appears to be the problem?"
"She hardly touched her food, and she's been sleeping on the rug since Kirsten let her in."
"Perhaps we should take her to a vet," Mel suggested.
"And what if the vet advises us to have the cat put to sleep?"
Mrs. Tilden's eyes opened and her ears twitched, alert to possible danger.
"Why does a vet need to put my cat to sleep?" Kirsten asked as she entered the kitchen. "She doesn't have any trouble falling asleep at night—or during the day lately."
Mel lifted his daughter up onto his lap. He hated having to tell her the hard, cruel facts of life, but it was his responsibility as her parent to do so.
"When dogs and cats get old and sick, it is sometimes kinder to send them to heaven where they will be at peace than to leave them to suffer."
Kirsten looked at her father with horror.
"You can't send my cat to heaven! She's the only friend I have."
The little girl jumped down from his lap and ran into her room, taking the cat with her.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Tilden," she cried, clutching the cat to her breast. "I won't let anyone hurt you. We'll run away if we have to."
Later that night, Kirsten lay on her bed trying to sleep, but her tears kept her awake. Just after midnight, she heard a familiar voice whisper in her ear.
"We will run away and always be together, my dear. But you must sleep now. I'll see you tomorrow morning at the bus stop."
Kirsten then rolled over onto her side and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * *
Shirley Novak woke her daughter at seven.
"Time to get up, sleepy head. You've got school today."
Kirsten yawned, got out of bed and shuffled out to the kitchen.
"Where's Mrs. Tilden?" she asked, seeing the empty cat bowl near the cabinets.
"I haven't seen her," Shirley replied. "Maybe your father let her out when he went to work."
"He didn't take her to the vet, did he?" Kirsten asked fearfully.
"No, sweetheart. We wouldn't do that without telling you first."
Reassured, Kirsten ate her breakfast and got ready for school. Once she was dressed, she picked up her Little Mermaid backpack, kissed her mother goodbye and headed for the door.
With both her husband and daughter out of the apartment, Shirley poured herself a second cup of coffee. Hopefully, she would be able to finish it before Kelsey awoke. A half-hour later, after a third cup, she went into the nursery to check on her son.
When Shirley opened the nursery door and saw the old gray cat lying atop the baby's face, she screamed. The cat, who had apparently recuperated from her lethargy, sprang from the crib and ran toward the outer door. The frightened mother flew to her son's aid, but she was too late. Kelsey was no longer breathing. Shirley's agonized shrieks brought her next-door neighbor running in.
"Shirley?" the neighbor cried, as she ran through the open nursery door. "Are you all right?"
"That cat!" Shirley screamed. "It killed my baby. It sucked the life right out of him."
"What cat? You mean that little orange kitten that ran out the door when I came in?"
Shirley didn't answer. She simply fell to her knees, cradling her dead child in her arms.
* * *
As Kirsten waited patiently outside the condo for the big, yellow school bus to arrive, she saw a pretty, young woman leave the apartment building and walk in her direction.
"Hello, Kirsten," the young woman said.
The little girl looked up at her. There was something familiar about her face.
"Who are you?" Kirsten asked. "You kinda remind me of my friend, Mrs. Tilden."
"That's because I am her."
"But Mrs. Tilden is old and gray."
The young woman laughed and tossed back her long red hair.
"I've got a new lease on life, and now I'm young again. That's a lot better than going to a vet and being put to sleep."
Kirsten was confused. Why would an old woman go to an animal doctor?
"Now," the young woman continued, "it's time for us to run away. We'll go somewhere we can be together all day, a far-away place where we can play games and I can tell you stories."
When the redheaded, green-eyed young woman picked the smiling little girl up and started walking away, Kirsten heard the unmistakable sound of Mrs. Tilden's purring.
Salem would never suck the life from a baby. In fact, ever since one tried to use his tail as a teething ring, he does his best to avoid them.
