by Irene Hannon
“Why don’t you stop by after your lesson with the Shabos and we’ll regroup? Thomma’s coming back again too to work with Toby on the electric fence. That will give the two of us a quiet few minutes to come up with a plan for this kitty.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
He grinned. “Just returning the favor.”
Jeannette removed her tote bag from across Molly’s chest. “I should be back by eight-fifteen.”
“Don’t rush. We’ll be here all evening. Come on, sweetie. Let’s go feed Toby.”
The dog’s ears perked up, and he began straining at the leash.
“Bye, ’Nette.”
“Bye, honey.” She gave the girl a hug, and bent low to whisper in her ear. “Thank you again for the heart.”
“Maybe we could go back to the beach and look for more pretty pieces of wood.”
Not a promise she was willing to make, despite the girl’s hopeful expression.
Babysitting for her neighbor in an emergency was one thing.
Regular involvement with the duo next door was another.
“Mrs. Shabo will be staying with you from now on.”
And there would be no reason in the future for her to interact much with her charming neighbors.
Which was perfect.
Except if that was true, why was there a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach as she watched Logan take Molly’s hand and lead her down the long hedge on the left, then disappear around the edge?
She should be glad they were gone.
Yet that tiny twinge deep inside felt like . . . yearning. Like a part of her wished she belonged to the family next door.
Bad news.
She turned her back and escaped to the peaceful, solitary haven she’d created, where there would be no new loss or grief.
And if this burgeoning feeling of loneliness was the price she had to pay to protect her sanctuary?
So be it.
Because it was better to be lonely than risk another broken heart.
17
“They’re here!”
At Molly’s excited announcement, Logan took the last plate from the dishwasher, slid it into the cabinet, and joined her in the small foyer.
Thomma’s Sentra was pulling up his driveway, but there was no sign of his neighbor’s car.
“Did you see Jeannette?”
“Yes. She drove behind the big bushes.” Molly turned away from her post beside the front door. “Is she coming over?”
“In a few minutes.” After spending all day in her company, his niece had been more talkative than usual at dinner—and much of her conversation had been about ’Nette.
“Can me and Elisa go see her tomorrow?”
“She has to work, sweetie.”
“She worked today too. I helped her. We won’t get in the way. Please? I like being there.”
“I know—but today was special. It was an emergency. Tomorrow Mrs. Shabo will be back, and her foot will be hurting. She can’t walk very far.”
“Well . . . when can I see her again?”
He was saved by a knock on the back door.
“We’ll talk about it later.” He retraced his steps to the kitchen.
She followed along behind him, stopping at the table to peer into the box where the sleeping kitty lay nestled in a soft towel.
Logan handed Toby off to Thomma as the doorbell rang.
“That’s ’Nette!” Molly zipped back to the front of the house.
Logan joined her as she twisted the knob.
“Come on in.” He smiled at his neighbor and pulled the door wide. “How did the lesson go?”
“Great. They’re all progressing at a remarkable pace.” She entered and lowered herself to Molly’s level. “How’s the kitty?”
“We got him some milk, but he doesn’t like it.”
“That’s strange. I thought all kittens liked milk.” Jeannette stood and shifted her attention to him. “What’s the status?”
“We made a fast run for some supplies while you were gone.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why do we need supplies?”
“Let’s talk in the kitchen while I try to coax him to take some formula.”
Without giving her a chance to reply, he ushered her toward the back of the house.
She waited beside the table while he tested the temperature of the formula he’d been heating in a pot of water, watching as he positioned the kitten on its stomach inside the blanket, tipped up the bottom of the bottle, and gently rubbed the nipple back and forth across tiny cat’s lips and gums.
The kitty was having none of it, even though he had to be hungry.
“Why won’t he eat?” Jeannette frowned.
“You’ve got me. Want to try?” He held out the bottle.
After a moment, she took it, picked up the towel-swaddled bundle, and sat in a chair with the kitten on her lap. As she mimicked Logan’s actions with the nipple, she spoke in soothing tones and stroked her fingers over the feline’s exposed head.
Half a minute in, the cat latched onto the nipple and began to suck.
“He’s eating!” Molly hopped from one foot to the other.
“I bow to your bedside manner.” Logan grinned at Jeannette.
“Don’t be too hasty. I think hunger finally won out. So what’s the story on all the supplies?” She motioned toward the counter, where another bottle, several nipples, and the box of formula were lined up.
Logan pulled out the chair beside her and sat. “My earlier suspicions were correct. No organization wants to take a cat this young.”
Dismay darted through her eyes. “So what are we supposed to do?”
“Find someone to take care of him—or do it ourselves.”
She exhaled. “That won’t work with your schedule.”
“No—and I don’t know anyone in town well enough to ask them to tackle a job like this. Based on the markers I found online, this little guy’s about three weeks old. That means he’ll have to be bottle-fed every four to five hours for another week or two, at which point he can start eating canned food. He won’t be ready for adoption for five to seven weeks.”
“Wow.”
“That was my reaction too. Do you know any cat lovers who might be willing to step in?”
“No.”
That didn’t surprise him.
Jeannette may have been in town longer than him, but odds were he’d soon know more people than his reclusive neighbor did.
“I guess we can both ask around—and in the meantime, I’ll see if Mariam will feed him while she’s here.”
Not ideal, since Toby and the two girls were a handful without the addition of a helpless kitten—but what other choice did he have if Jeannette didn’t volunteer?
She focused on the task of feeding the abandoned kitty for a few silent seconds before she spoke. “It’s not fair to dump this on you. I’m the one who hauled him home.”
“I would have done the same if I’d found him.”
“But you didn’t. And I have more flexibility in my schedule—along with fewer care-and-feeding responsibilities.” She sighed. “I’ll take him.”
“Can I come see him?” Molly edged closer to Jeannette.
A few beats ticked by. “Um . . . he’ll probably sleep most of the day.”
Her message was clear—to him anyway.
She didn’t want to commit to regular visits. She’d done him a favor yesterday and today, but she was more than ready to retreat to her solitary world.
Somehow he managed to resist the temptation to let Molly exploit the soft spot Jeannette had for her. “He has to get bigger before we bother him too much, sweetie. Baby kittens that young are too little to play with.”
“I could just look at him.”
“Let’s see how he does for a few days. Why don’t you go put on your pajamas and brush your teeth?”
“Do I have to?”
“Yep. It’s bedtime. Toby can keep you company as soon as Thomma is finished with him.�
�
As if on cue, a knock sounded at the back door.
Logan rose, crossed the room, and twisted the knob.
Thomma handed him Toby’s leash. “He learn.”
“Good.” The sooner he could relinquish his walk-the-dog duties, the better. “Thank you.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
Thomma nodded at Jeannette and retreated down the porch steps.
Logan closed the door, unclicked the leash—and the pup dashed over to Jeannette to inspect the bundle on her lap.
“Keep your distance, buddy, or you’ll freak out our friend here.” She twisted away from the curious dog.
“Molly, take Toby with you while you change into your pjs.” Logan grasped the beagle’s collar and tugged him back.
“Come on, Toby.” Molly headed toward the hall.
The pup swiveled his head both directions, as if debating whether to follow, but in the end he trotted after her.
“He’s better behaved than he used to be.” Jeannette checked on the kitten’s progress with the formula.
“Thanks to Thomma. He’s also getting the hang of the fence. The installer said training should take about two weeks, and we seem to be tracking to that schedule.” Logan tapped the bottle. “He’s about done, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” She removed the nipple.
“You can burp him by patting him on the back right where he is.”
“You must have done some research while I was gone—or is that your medical knowledge speaking?”
“Nope. We didn’t cover cats in med school.”
Her lips flexed up. “Thanks for running out to get the supplies too.”
“No problem. If you want me to take a rotation on night duty, I’m willing.”
“That’s okay. Unlike you, I can sleep late if necessary.” She continued to pat the kitty, lowering her voice as a door closed down the hall. “I had an enlightening conversation with Molly today. I can fill you in if we relocate to the porch once our friend here is done digesting his dinner.”
“Sure. Give me ten minutes to tuck her in, and I’ll join you out there. Would you like some coffee?”
“No thanks. I won’t be staying long.”
Too bad. Spending a few extra minutes in his neighbor’s company would be a pleasant way to end this day.
He rose and moved toward the hall, glancing back as he reached the doorway.
Jeannette was watching him.
But she yanked her gaze back to the kitten immediately, a soft blush coloring her cheeks.
Telling.
The lady might be determined to keep her distance, but it wasn’t due to lack of interest.
She liked him.
As much as he liked her, unless his instincts were failing him.
So why was she holding back?
There wasn’t much chance he’d get an answer to that question tonight—but he wasn’t giving up.
No one had ever called Logan West a quitter.
After getting Molly settled as fast as he could and dispensing with her usual bedtime story, he found Jeannette waiting for him on the front porch, as she’d promised—the mesh folding chairs once again pushed farther apart than usual.
He sat, letting the furniture rearrangement pass, as he had during their last tête-à-tête in this spot.
“Is she down for the night?” Jeannette crossed her legs.
He tried not to be distracted by their nice line, shown off to perfection by her snug black leggings.
“For now.” He leaned back and laced his fingers over his stomach, transferring his attention to two gulls soaring overhead. “But it may not last. Sometimes I hear her crying later through the wall between our rooms.” He swallowed. “Those nights are hard.”
“I can imagine.” Sympathy softened her sable irises. “What do you do?”
“The first few times it happened, I went in and tried to talk to her, but she shut me out. Last round, I said I was lonesome and asked if I could stay with her.”
“Ah. That must have been what she was referring to today. She said you told her once you were lonely. Not a bad strategy to build rapport.”
“That’s what I thought—and I hoped it would be a turning point. She did let me stay . . . but the next day we were back to the status quo. No matter what I try, I can’t break through the barrier she’s erected between us.”
“I may have an insight about the source of that.”
He hitched up one side of his mouth. “I’m not surprised she confided in you. In case you haven’t realized it, she likes you.”
“It’s mutual.” She folded her hands. “I want to phrase this diplomatically, because I can see how hard you’re trying to win her over.”
“Don’t worry about diplomacy. Just give it to me straight.” He braced. “Did she tell you she hates me?”
Her eyebrows peaked. “No. Nothing like that. Why would she hate you?”
“Because I took the place of her Nana? Because I made her leave the only home she remembers? Because I don’t have a clue how to raise a little girl?” He blew out a breath. “There could be a dozen reasons.”
“She doesn’t hate you. But she doesn’t think you want her.”
“What?” He stared at her. “Why would she think that? I’ve done everything I can to make her feel wanted and loved.”
“She overheard a phone conversation that wasn’t meant for her ears.”
Logan listened as Jeannette relayed the story Molly had shared with her about the night he’d been beside himself trying to figure out how to deal with a five-year-old bed-wetting child who was lost and grieving and uncommunicative.
When she finished, he wiped a hand down his face. “I was venting to a friend. I had no idea she’d heard any of that.”
“Kids have incredible audio powers.”
“I’ve learned that in the past four months. The incident she talked about happened during the first two weeks she was with me. Months ago. I don’t know what else I can do to convince her I love her and want her beyond what I’m already doing.”
“May I offer a suggestion?”
“Please.”
“Tell her how you feel about the loss of your mom and brother. She said you never talk about them, so she may be reluctant to bring up her own grief. If she knows you have sorrow in common, she may open up about that—and other subjects. Shared experiences can create strong bonds.”
“That makes sense.” He leaned back and crossed an ankle over a knee. “I thought Molly and I should establish a comfort level before we got into heavier issues, but maybe talking about those would help build that comfort level.”
“It might.”
“Any other insights or tips you can share?”
“No.” She checked her watch. “And it’s getting late. I better take the kitty home and get set up for some midnight feedings.” She stood.
He rose more slowly, trying to come up with a logical reason to delay her.
Unfortunately, nothing convincing came to mind.
“I’ll help you gather up the supplies.” He opened the door and followed her to the kitchen.
She stopped in the center of the room, eyeing the counter and the kitten. “This will require two trips.”
“I’d offer to help, but I don’t want to leave Molly alone.”
“No worries. It’s not a long walk.” She flashed him a smile as she picked up the box with the sleeping kitty. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“I’ll put all the supplies in a bag for you while you’re gone.”
He held the door for her as she left, gathered up the formula, extra bottle, nipples, and the care instructions he’d printed off the net, and was waiting on the porch when she returned.
She took the bag he handed her. “Thanks for all you did tonight. I’m sure the care and feeding of an abandoned kitten wasn’t on your evening agenda.”
“Watching Molly wasn’t on yours for today either.”
“I enjo
yed having her.” She descended the steps, angling back at the bottom to look up at him. “I’ll text you with updates on how he’s doing.”
In other words, she didn’t want them to come over to her place.
Didn’t mean he couldn’t try to push for an invite, though.
“Thanks—but I don’t know if that will satisfy Molly.”
She edged farther away, into the shadows beyond the pool of light from the porch. “I can bring him back for a visit in a week or two.”
“Or we could walk over. I’d call first, to see if it was convenient.”
“That would work.”
Not if she didn’t answer the phone—and he had a sneaking suspicion she’d let any calls from him roll to voicemail.
But pushing harder could backfire.
“Let me know if you need any help.”
“I will. Thanks again.” With that, she turned away and disappeared down the dark drive.
Logan pushed through the door, locked it, and shoved his hands in his pockets as he wandered down the hall to see if Molly had fallen asleep.
At the door to her room, he paused. Toby lifted his head from his prone position beside her bed but stayed where he was. Molly’s eyes were closed, her breathing even, and the slight snuffling sound suggested she was in a deep sleep.
Maybe she’d stay that way through the night.
He returned to the kitchen and straightened up the counter and table, weighing Jeannette’s advice about broaching the subject of loss and grief with Molly. His neighbor struck him as a sharp, insightful, intuitive, and caring woman who probably had keen insights about kids, based on her teaching experience.
Why not try her suggestion? It wasn’t as if he had anything to lose, given the poor results with his current approach.
He nuked the cup of coffee that had cooled during Jeannette’s visit and strolled out to the back porch. Propping a shoulder against the post, he sipped the java and scanned the vast, star-bedecked heavens. It was the same view he used to enjoy with his mom and brother and dad as they tried to spot the constellations in their backyard on a summer night while fireflies flitted around them.
The sky hadn’t changed—but everything else had.
And all at once, a soul-deep wave of loneliness crashed over him.
Those had been good days.
Happy days.
