move in no way lessened the tension between Notta and Emma. Notta had sublet her apartment in the City to a co-worker, and arranged with her employer to perform her duties by remote contact from Las Tumbas. She went to Las Tumbas once or twice a week to transmit work to her company and to receive further instructions from them. That also gave her time to see DiConti away from the Village.
Notta had apologized to her mother for her outbursts, and had tried to let go of her anger toward Haakon. This she found peculiarly hard to do. She talked with DiConti about it several times, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go.
A late spring rain squall had escalated into a full-blown winter-type storm. The rain and wind had lashed the Cove for three days before moving inland to bury the mountain ski areas in a late wet snow. After three days cooped in the cottage with Prime Pussy, Notta, and Emma, Ermentrude’s restless spirit drove her outdoors by one of her secret egresses in a closet. Notta, busy with her work, and Emma, busy in the kitchen, did not miss the younger cat. Prime Pussy, of course, counted her absence a brief blessing from an unknown god.
Ermentrude, wary of Ben’s cottage and Butter, prowled farther afield than she customarily did. Her wanderings included several explorations of rodent dens, chittering observations on various birds in the bushes, and the curious pursuit of a lizard, a species new to Ermentrude. She came at last to Dr. Field’s old cottage. Haakon sat in a rocking chair on the porch, to enjoy the rain-cleansed air. The cottage still smelled like a liniment tube; the very walls and floorboards emitted a pungent essence of menthol.
Ermentrude recognized Haakon’s scent before she saw him. She experienced cat pleasure; Haakon’s lap had frequently been her refuge from Prime Pussy’s unkindly attentions while he stayed at Emma’s cottage. He had formed a habit of stroking her in just the right, gentle, way that a cat needs. She bounded up the porch, and into his lap.
“Hello, Ermentrude,” he said. She purred, and settled down. Haakon began stroking her back. She stretched in ecstasy, coiled up again, and closed her eyes. For some time her rumbling purr and the distant sigh of the surf were all Haakon listened to. Peace entered him, a peace that passed all his understanding.
At lunchtime, Notta missed Ermentrude. The little cat seldom missed a chance to beg tidbits from Notta’s lunch, despite Emma’s expressed disapproval of feeding pets people food from the table. Ermentrude did not appear, even though Notta and Emma had tuna salad for lunch. Prime Pussy prowled back and forth on a narrow track across the kitchen door, her way of requesting a bit of tuna. Emma said little, and did not take up Notta’s attempts at conversation.
“Do you want some tea?” Emma asked as Notta finished her tuna salad.
“No, thank you, Mother,” Notta said. “Do you know where Ermentrude has got to?”
“No. I haven’t seen her all morning.” Emma got up, took their dishes to the sink, and put the kettle on for her cup of tea.
“I’ll just go and look for her,” Notta said. “Perhaps she slipped out when neither of us noticed.”
“Perhaps,” Emma said. She took up the morning newspaper and began to re-read it. Notta took this as a dismissal. She got a light jacket, gray with white piping on the lapels, and went out the door. She first went to Ben’s place. Ermentrude had invaded Ben’s cottage more than once, despite Butter’s loud objections. Ben did not answer her knock, and from the quality of Butter’s barking, Notta guessed Ben was not at home.
She tried the Swami’s cottage next. He hadn’t seen any cats, and Malcolm Drye reported a similar lack of feline sightings. Mae Ling did remember seeing a cat, at a distance. She had glanced up from her tablet (she was writing another children’s book, this one about the rice planters of Hoi Anh) and seen a cat stalking through the grass. She had not paid attention to the cat’s color, or other characteristics.
Notta thanked her and trudged on toward the cabin where Haakon was staying. She debated passing by without stopping, but Haakon, who was still in the rocking chair called to her. “Notta,” he said, “If you’re looking for Ermentrude, she’s here. She came by to see me this morning.”
“Oh, thank you!” Notta said. “I’ve been worried about her.” Notta came toward Haakon on the porch. She was very surprised to see Ermentrude curled up in Haakon’s lap, purring her most contented purr.
“She’s been here quite a while,” Haakon said. His fingers were slowly rubbing Ermentrude under the chin. The cat’s eyes were shut and Notta detected a grin on her face. “I suppose,” Haakon said, “you’ll be taking her home now.” He continued rubbing Ermentrude’s chin. The thinness of Haakon’s fingers struck Notta anew. Haakon’s whole frame was thin, drawn, as if he had been stretched almost beyond endurance. Notta couldn’t quite reconcile this attenuated man with the gloriously muscled god her mother had described as her lover.
“I suppose so,” Notta said.
“Don’t suppose you have time for a cup of tea, do you?” Notta heard a desperate loneliness in Haakon’s voice.
“I don’t…” she began, and stopped herself. “I don’t have anything I have to do right away,” she said. “If you’ll put up with me, a cup of tea will be a treat.”
Haakon’s smile momentarily erased the weary lines in his face. “Then come in,” he said. “I’ve even got a bit of milk for you, Ermentrude.” He picked the cat up out of his lap, cradled her in his left arm, and opened the door to invite Notta in. The reek of liniment made Ermentrude sneeze; only that could interrupt her purring.
Over the couch Haakon had hung a picture of St. Sebastian, bleeding profusely from many golden arrows. The painting was a little stylized, and reminded Notta of El Greco’s figures. She wondered where Haakon had got the gruesome thing. It radiated pain like a fire radiates heat.
“Do you prefer to sit in here,” he said, “or in the kitchen?”
“Mother has me trained to drink tea in the kitchen,” Notta said. The kitchen was away from the bloody saint on the living room wall.
“This way, then,” Haakon said. He handed Ermentrude to Notta. He took a small bowl from his cupboard. He went to the refrigerator, poured milk into the bowl and put it on the floor. Ermentrude opened her eyes and stared at Notta until Notta became aware of her. Notta looked deep into the cat’s green eyes with their yellow rings, and felt herself slip down into a psychic space she had never touched before. It was like plunging into a deep pool, shaped like a funnel. At the bottom of this pool she shot through the narrow end into a place of calm. Some dark thing she had carried so long she didn’t know she bore it stayed behind, scraped off by her passage through the narrow opening.
When she returned to her everyday self, Haakon was putting the kettle on. Ermentrude was leaping from Notta’s lap to get the milk in the bowl Haakon had poured for her. “Earl Grey or Thai Jasmine?” Haakon said to Notta.
“Thai Jasmine,” she replied. “That will be a nice break from mother’s Lipton and English Breakfast.”
Haakon took two heavy plastic mugs from the cupboard. He put a Thai Jasmine bag in one cup, and an Earl Grey bag in the other. Bergamot struggled with the jasmine and liniment air and lost. “I’m afraid my crockery isn’t as elegant as your mother’s,” he said. “This is all the Wong brothers had.”
“They serve,” Notta said. Haakon and Notta both fell silent. Only the grumble of water heating in the kettle, the hiss of the gas in the burner, and Ermentrude’s steady lapping at the milk made any life in the room. Notta broke the silence when the kettle whistled and Haakon got up to pour the water. She took a deep breath and plunged into her apology. “I am sorry for the way I’ve acted,” Notta said. “I’ve been vicious and nasty to you, and I don’t know why.”
Haakon carefully picked up the cups with the hot fluid in them. He didn’t respond right away. He didn’t know what to say to this woman who was the fruit of his loins. He set the cups down. Then he sat. “I don’t care why, if you don’t,” he fin
ally said.
Notta stared at the window. “I’ll be nicer from now on,” she said. She rubbed her right hand with the fingers of her left.
“Only if you feel it,” Haakon said. “I know I’ve no right to intrude on your life.”
“Except the right of genetic inheritance,” Notta said. She sipped at her tea. She looked for another conversational gambit. She was coming to understand Haakon was no surer of himself than she was. “Tell me,” she said, “something about your mother and father. What were they like?”
Haakon frowned. “There’s not too much to tell. I never knew my father, or even, for sure, who he was.” He sighed, and smiled painfully at Notta. “Absent fathers probably run in my family.”
“Mine, too,” Notta said, and grinned. “My mother’s father was one of seven sailors, all of whom died at Pearl Harbor. Grandmother never knew which one was mother’s father. What about your mother?” Ermentrude began to purr softly.
“My mother was a professional. She was always kind to me, and tried to bring me up to be honest and decent as she saw honesty and decency.” His eyes looked inward. “She died when I was twelve. She got pneumonia on top of a venereal disease. The only thing she left me was a small gold cross.” A shadow crossed Haakon’s lean,