The Year the Cat Saved Christmas - a novella (7 page)

#

Then

Eight months to the day after David began
working at the biggest architectural firm in the state, he made
dinner reservations for two at the Peacock Inn.

"Have you lost your mind?" Jill asked,
clearly shocked, when he called to tell her what he'd done. "We
can't afford the Peacock Inn. We don't even know anyone who can
afford the Peacock Inn."

"Trust me," he said, pride almost bursting
through his chest. "I'll pick you up at the office at six."

He pulled up in front of the rambling
Colonial building that housed Baxter Publishing, the small textbook
firm where Jill had worked since their marriage. He was three
minutes early. He knew she would be three minutes late. Their
marriage had been a series of compromises, some easy and some not
so, and he couldn't imagine it any other way.

She trusted him with her life. He trusted her
with his heart. She lifted him up when his optimism flagged. He
held her close when the world was too much with them.

People said that marriage made romance
disappear, that the grind of everyday life extinguished the spark
of passion, but they were wrong. Marriage had taken two lonely
people and turned them into one entity, a team in heart and spirit.
A team that only death could part.

"Champagne?" Jill said as the waiter brought
the chilled bottle for his inspection.

"Our anniversary isn't until September."

"You need an occasion to drink
champagne?"

"On our budget, we need an occasion to drink
beer."

He smiled but said nothing. Good news
deserved to be savored. He motioned the waiter to leave the
champagne and, with great ceremony, David popped the cork himself
then filled the crystal flutes with the golden liquid.

"To the future," he said and they touched
glasses.

"To the future," Jill echoed. Then, "You're
making me a nervous wreck, David. The Peacock Inn. Champagne. You
must have robbed a bank to pay for this."

He leaned forward. Her hair shimmered in the
candlelight, glowing like burnished copper. There was no sight on
earth that could compare to his wife's face. He was consumed with
love for her, for everything she was, and for all he knew she would
be now that he could finally give her the chance.

"How much do you like your job, Jilly?"

Her brows drew together. "It's okay. Ed
Cavanagh is easy to work for. The editors are pleasant enough. Why
are you asking me this, David?"

"Because I think you should quit."

He'd never seen a jaw sag open before but
damned if Jill's jaw didn't do exactly that.

She stared at him. "Quit?"

"Quit."

"How much champagne have you had
tonight?"

He lifted his glass. "It's still almost
full."

"Then you must have lost your mind."

"I haven't lost my mind. In fact, I've never
felt more sane in my life."

"I'm glad one of us can say that, because I
feel like I'm trapped in the Twilight Zone and Rod Serling is about
to serve our salads."

He reached for her hand. "I'm doing the
O'Neal house."

"Oh, David...." Her beautiful face came to
life, as if all the candlepower in the room were centered in her
eyes. "You worked so hard for this. I'm so happy!"

"We worked hard," he corrected her. "We did
it as a team. I wouldn't have made it through without you, Jilly,
and that's the God's truth."

"You're not going to toss me aside and run
off with an assistant?" Her words were soft and teasing. "I hear
that's what all you successful architects do."

"Not this one." He raised her hand to his
lips. "I have everything I want right here."

He told her about the corner studio and the
expense account, and then he told her the best part of all.

"It means a lot more money," he said, "enough
for you to quit work. You can start working on that novel you've
always wanted to write."

She didn't believe him at first. Hell, he
could hardly believe it himself.

"I wish--" She stopped.

"What do you wish, Jilly?" He'd give her the
moon and stars if he could. "Tell me."

"A baby," she whispered.

His smile faded. "A baby?"

"I know a baby's a huge expense but don't you
see, Davey, it's time. We've been married almost three years. You
have a wonderful job. We're young and healthy and--"

She stopped mid-sentence and watched him as
he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small brown paper
bag.

"What's that?" she asked as he pushed it
across the table.

"Open it and see."

She reached inside and pulled out a paperback
book named
Five Thousand Names For Your New Baby
. She stared
at it for a few seconds then leaped from her chair and threw her
arms around him. "Oh David!' She pressed kisses all over his face.
"We're going to make a baby!"

#

That night David had believed heaven was
within his reach. Making love to Jill had always been incredible
but that night it became a sacrament. She'd slept in his arms
afterward, a gentle smile on her face, and he'd found himself
glancing more than once at her flat belly and imagining how
beautiful she would be when she was great with child.

He wondered how they would have felt if
they'd known how painful and heartbreaking the road to conception
would be. They'd been so young and filled with hope, so damn
unprepared for failure. These days miracles came with a healthy
price tag and he'd worked long hours to make sure that was one
burden Jill didn't have to shoulder.

Who would've figured the good times would be
what finally did them in?

#

David found a parking spot near the post
office. He angled the Porsche in on the first try. "The snow's
piled up against the curb," he said. "You'd better slide out on my
side."

He reached for her hand as she swung her legs
from the car.

"Thank you," she said in a very formal voice,
"but I can manage on my own."

"The ground's icy," he said. "I don't want
you to slip."

"Thank you again," she said, even more
formally, "but I'm quite sure-footed."

"The hell you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The Marinos' Christmas party."

Her face flamed. "High heels and black ice
don't mix. It could happen to anybody."

"There was no ice, Jill."

"Black ice," she repeated. "That's the kind
you can't see."

"That was the Christmas it rained."

"I really hate it when you're right," she
muttered but she took his hand anyway. Neither one was wearing
gloves and the initial shock of skin against skin stole her breath
away. How could she have forgotten? David didn't have artist's
hands. He had big, workman's hands, broad-palmed and callused from
sports and yard work. She'd fallen in love with those hands the day
she met him, imagining how it would feel to have him touch her...to
hold her close.

Once upon a time she'd believed his hands
held magic in their grasp but now she knew better. Not even those
hands they hadn't been able to keep their family from breaking
apart and that was the only magic she cared about.

Chapter Five

The car barreled down on Sebastian from
nowhere. He heard the squeal of brakes and he leaped up onto a
snowdrift along the shoulder just seconds ahead of the tires.

"You trying to get killed?" the driver yelled
through his open window. "Stupid cat."

Stupid cat?
Sebastian glared at the
driver from his perch atop the snowdrift. He wasn't the one who had
trouble staying in his lane. He could drive better than that human
and he didn't have opposable thumbs.

Maybe he would lie there for a few minutes
and survey his surroundings. It wasn't that he needed to catch his
breath, mind you. He simply wanted to admire the view from up
there. Sebastian's chest swelled with pride. That was the kind of
leap a young cat could make without thinking twice, but at
Sebastian's age, it was cause for celebration.

A blue jay darted overhead, swooping down low
enough so Sebastian could make out the markings on his throat and
belly. He considered taking a halfhearted swipe at him with a paw
but then thought better of it. It was Christmas Eve, after all, and
contrary to public opinion, cats had a kind and loving nature, even
when it came to birds.

His humans were about to make the biggest
mistake humans could make and it seemed to Sebastian that he was
the only one who knew it. He'd been there for them when they
thought they'd never have babies. Many a tear had fallen onto his
thick fur but he had kept their sorrows to himself. And later, when
the babies finally came and brought with them turmoil and change,
his people remembered the nights Sebastian had kept their secrets
and loved him all the more for that. They were a family, after all,
the whole lot of them: humans and cat, dog and bird.

Sebastian didn't much like getting older but
knowing the family would be together after he was gone made him
feel better about the whole thing.

Now he didn't even have that to hold onto
anymore.

A lesser cat, one of those sniveling Siamese
or overbred Abyssinians, might throw in the towel but not
Sebastian. No Maine coon worth his salt would give up without a
fight. He was descended from fine stock, from the great cats
Deuteronomy and Checquers, strong and sturdy cats with broad backs
meant to carry burdens.

But what good was fighting if you didn't
choose your battle well?

The cottage was still calling to him, so loud
he could barely hear himself think.

He had to get there, had to bring his people
home if they were to have a chance at a happy ending.

Family was worth fighting for. People didn't
think cats understood that but they were wrong. As far as Sebastian
could see, it was the humans who needed to be reminded.

And what better place to be reminded than the
cottage on Burnt Sugar Hill where it all began?

#

Christmas Eve cheer had hit Main Street full
force. Lights twinkled everywhere. Holly and poinsettia festooned
store widows. Carolers from the high school were gathered in the
town square by the gazebo and the merry sounds of Jingle Bells and
Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer filled the air.

"New outfits," David commented as they waved
to Mrs. Palumbo, the chorus leader. "Looks like the fundraiser was
a success."

"I'm glad they picked the red jackets," Jill
said. "The green was too dreary."

Both she and David had donated their time and
money to the cause.

"Hi, Jill. Hi, David." Carol Bonnier from the
Greg's Grocery waved to them from across the street. "Merry
Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," Jill called out and David
echoed the sentiment.

"Glad to see you two together!"

Jill had never realized the woman had the
lung power of a prize-winning hog caller. She cringed as passersby
took notice of the conversation. "I knew that divorce nonsense
wouldn't last," Carol bellowed. "You two are made for each
other."

Jill and David exchanged glances.

"I gave Sebastian some chicken when he popped
by the market," she continued at full bellow. "Hope you don't
mind."

They were across the street in a flash.

"You saw Sebastian?" Jill demanded of the
bewildered woman. "Where? When?"

"At the market. Maybe an hour ago." Carol
thought for a moment. "It must have been around lunchtime. I
brought some leftover chicken with me and all of a sudden there
Sebastian was, begging."

"Where did he go after he left the market?"
David asked.

"He ate the chicken then turned around and
waltzed back out the door same way he came in. Marge at the
hardware store mentioned seeing him too but--wait, you two! I want
to hear about the reconciliation!"

They tore down the street and burst into
Foster Hardware.

"I don't believe my eyes!" Marge, the owner,
let out a whoop of delight. "You're back together again."

"Sebastian," Jill said, her cheeks flaming.
"Have you seen him?"

"Oh sure I have, honey. He shared my tuna
sandwich with me."

"When?" David asked. They were beginning to
sound like the cops on
CSI
.

"About an hour ago," Marge said. "I was
thrilled to see my old friend. He doesn't make many trips into town
these days."

"He shouldn't have made this one," Jill said.
"We can't find him, Marge, and we're frantic."

"Well, I wish I'd paid more attention when he
left but Mr. Jensen came in looking for a crescent wrench and you
know how talkative he is."

"No apology necessary, Marge." Jill was so
disappointed she could cry.

"Wait a minute!" Marge's face lit up again.
"I'm sure I saw him headed toward Frank's Meat Mart."

"Oh no," Jill murmured.

"Frank's a dear," Marge said, patting Jill's
hand. "He forgave Sebastian for that mishap with the filet mignons
ages ago."

David started inching toward the door.
"Thanks for the help, Marge."

"Now, just you wait a minute!" Marge barred
their exit with her ample body. "You can't leave here without
telling me all the wonderful details." She winked broadly.
"So...?"

Jill nudged David. In the best tradition of
husbands everywhere, he didn't say a word.

"I'm afraid there really isn't much to tell
you."

Marge winked again. "You mean nothing you can
tell me in mixed company!" Her laugh was downright bawdy. "It does
my heart good to see you two together again. We've all been talking
these last few months, trying to figure out what it would take to
get you two to see the light, but it looks like you managed just
fine on your own."