Journey Read Online Free Page B

lives here. And he does.”
    I put out my hand and stroked the cat, and he put his paws around my hand, hugging me to him.
    “See?” I whispered.
    Grandfather bent down.
    “There’s blood here, Journey. See, a little trail on the floor.”
    Grandfather ran his hands over the cat, who peered at him through slit eyes.
    “Here it is. A little cut on his foot.”
    Grandfather took out his handkerchief and blotted the cat’s left paw. Suddenly the cat reached over and took Grandfather’s finger in his teeth. I held my breath as Grandfather and the cat stared at each other. After a moment Grandfather smiled.
    “You are something,” he said to the cat, and to prove it, the cat let go of his finger, turned over, and went back to sleep.
    “What is going on here?”
    Grandma’s voice made Grandfather jump. The cat didn’t move.
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Marcus!”
    My sister appeared suddenly behind Grandma. Her face lighted up when she saw the cat.
    “Oh!” She turned to me. “Have you named him yet?”
    “Marcus!” said Grandma warningly, her lips pressed tightly together.
    “Now, Lottie,” said Grandfather, “this is an injured animal. We have to be humane here.”
    “You know how I feel about cats,” said Grandma. “And cats are not humane to birds.”
    “We’ll put a bell on him,” I said. “Two bells, Grandma! Please!” Grandma’s face was stern. I turned to Grandfather. “I need this cat.”
    My own words startled me, and Grandfather cleared his throat.
    “Actually, Lottie, it’s unfortunate, I know, hut Journey has named him already.”
    I stared at Grandfather. Grandma saw my surprise.
    “Really,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “And what would that name be?”
    “Yes,” said Grandfather. His eyes roamed the room. “His name is …” Grandfather looked at the vase of peonies by the window. “His name isBloom, isn’t that what you called him, Journey?”
    “Yes.” I nodded.
    “Oh, push,” said Grandma, half smiling, “you just made that up, old man. You might just as well have said Peony.”
    “Lottie,” said Grandfather, “Journey knows that Peony is no name for a cat.”
    The screen opened, and Cooper poked his head in.
    “I saw the lights.”
    He climbed in, closing the screen behind him, and then he saw the cat. Cooper peered at Grandfather, at my sister leaning against the wall, and at Grandma with her arms still folded. Finally he looked at me.
    “Of course you named him,” he said, making Grandfather’s lips twitch.
    “Bloom,” I said.
    “I’ll get the camera,” said Grandfather.
    * * *
    As it turned out the name Bloom fit the cat well. In Grandma’s words, Bloom was about toburst into flower. In Grandfather’s words, “He’s a she, she’s pregnant. You’re going to be a papa.”
    Grandma pretended anger at the idea of more than one cat. But I thought that she’d known the moment she first saw Bloom. And Bloom, if she loved anyone, loved Grandma. She ran to her in the morning with a small, eager sound of welcome. She brought sodden and well-chewed mice to the doorstep, waiting proudly for Grandma to run through all her words of disgust. She sat beside Grandma on the living room couch at night, watching Grandma closely.
    We tied a bell on Bloom so she wouldn’t catch birds, but Bloom would not wear it, managing to chew it off. Late into the night we heard the sound of Bloom batting it up and down the hallways of the house before she came to my bed to sleep. But as far as I knew, Bloom never caught a bird. If she did, she never brought it to Grandma’s doorstep.
    “She knows,” said Cat admiringly.
    “She’s the most intelligent cat I’ve ever known,” added Cooper, who had never knownany cat well. “Intelligent enough to know your grandma would kill her and toss her on the compost heap.”
    I knew better. I knew that Grandma and Bloom had a secret life of their own. Once, hidden in the pantry, I heard what Bloom heard each day from