by Steve Vernon
“Yes, Ms. Daly.”
“You’re a good friend, Marta.”
Marta smiled, just with her mouth.
Ms. Daly turned to leave.
“Ms. Daly?” said Marta.
She turned back. “Yes, Marta?”
“Merry Christmas,” she said.
“Yeah, Mom. Merry Christmas,” said Nikki softly.
Ms. Daly smiled, a sad, proud, soft smile. “Merry Christmas, girls,” she said.
“Merry Christmas, Marta. Merry Christmas, sis,” said JP. His hand twisted the doorknob, but Nikki shouted. “Wait a minute, footface!”
“What?!” he said.
She held up Patch with one hand. “You didn’t say Merry Christmas to the kitties!”
“Yeah!” said Marta. “Remember the kitties!” She wiggled her feet beneath me. The water bottle sloshed.
JP grinned. “Merry Catsmas, Bronco. Merry Catsmas, Cowboy. I’ll make sure Santa brings you some tuna tomorrow.”
Nikki covered Patch’s ears. “John Paul! You’re not supposed to spoil their Santa surprise!”
“C’mon. We better go so Santa can come,” said Ms. Daly. “Love you,” she said. They opened the door and went out into the cold night.
It was Christmas and the snow would come tomorrow. I could feel it in my whiskers.
What does this mean? What will happen to Nikki and Patch? JP and Marta?
I pondered these things while the girls chattered. Finally, Marta scampered out of her sleeping bag and, running over in her slippers, shut off the shed light. Now there was only the glow of the Christmas lights outside, and the heater.
“Nikki?” said Marta.
“Yeah?” Patch got to be under the covers with Nikki; right now she rubbed his chin with her finger while he drooled.
“I know after tomorrow there won’t be a reason for you to come by. But do you think I could visit you sometimes? I…I think you’re neat.”
The dim light caught Nikki’s bright teeth and pink gums as a smile lit up her face. “Yeeah. You’re nice, Marta.”
“Thanks, Nikki. Well…goodnight, I guess. And Fuzzy Christmas.”
“Fuzzy Christmas to you, too.”
Marta turned over and was soon snoring. Nikki spent a lot of time looking at Patch and rubbing the gray fur on his head, but finally her eyes closed and her breathing grew steady with sleep. Patch’s eyes still glinted in the Christmas lights. Carefully, I stepped off Marta’s hot water bottle and went to him.
“One more day,” he said. “Then I’m in a shelter, I guess.”
I held my tail tip against him, careful not to tickle Nikki.
“Shelters aren’t the end of everything, Patch. You’ll find a great family, I’m sure, just like how I found my Damien.”
“Yeah, but…” he glanced at the girl cuddling him in her sleep. “I don’t think I’ll ever get this again, will I?”
I sighed. “I don’t know, kit. I sure hope you do. But I don’t know.”
We didn’t say anything a while. The heater box came on with a wooshy sound and a glow, then went dark again.
“Gingersnap?” said Patch.
“Yes, Patch?”
“I’ll miss you,” he said. “I’m glad you were my angel. I’m sorry the miracle didn’t happen.”
I gave him careful licks on his face. “So am I.”
He put his paw on mine. “But you did a great job, OK?”
“We both did, kit. We both tried our best, but…sometimes this fallen world is bigger than us alley cats.”
“But we tried,” he said, jutting his jaw out.
“We did,” I agreed.
We touched noses in the silence. For a while, we listened to the girls’ breathing. But after a while, I stretched, ready to go back to Marta’s sleeping bag when Patch touched his paw to mine again. “Gingersnap? Give me more tips? For the shelter?”
I stopped and turned around.
I stood there, smelling the less-dusty shed, feeling the coming snowfall in my whiskers, seeing the face of this young cat peeping out from under the chin of the sleeping girl, the girl who’d had an accident that had changed everything for her family but who looked perfect and peaceful when she slept, and I said, “No. No shelter tips tonight. But how ’bout a story?”
“Sure!”
I lay down, tucking my paws beneath me.
“I guess I shouldn’t call it a story. It really happened. And because it did, we can look forward out of our dark and sad days and know that everything will be all right. And we can know that, as bad as things get, we’re never alone.
“It happened many years ago, in a dry and dusty land far away. A human woman had to have her baby in a manger in a stable. But this was no ordinary baby, for He was the King of All, of both humans and us beasts…and yet He loved us all enough to come down as a little baby, so He could save us, and the world we live in, and the people we love…”
23
My whiskers seemed to burn the next morning awaiting the inevitable snowfall. They ached while my bones sang in the knowledge that all animals had, that this was Christmas Day, the celebration of the Lord’s birthday. The sensations were enough to drive a squirrel crazy, so while Mrs. Rivera got the girls ready, I clung to Marta’s sleeping bag.
Patch came over. “Your nose is quivering. You feel it too?” he asked. I just nodded.
Finally, the girls came to put us in the car. I hardly heard their talking, but jolted to when I realized Baba wasn’t walking with us.
“Where’s MeMe?” I asked Patch. “Do you know? Isn’t she coming?”
“I heard Marta say her arthritis is acting up. She has to stay home where it’s warm.”
I sighed again. That old hound would know the right things to say today.
The window rolled down and I startled. Ms. Daly was in the car, but so was a man!
“Uncle…Uncle Dave!” said Nikki.
“He came down as a surprise,” said Ms. Daly.
“Hiya, Tricky-Nikki!” said the man. “Who you got there?” He pointed to Patch.
“Cowboy,” she said.
“And this one’s Bronco,” said Marta, lifting me up a little.
“They’re staying with us. But just for Christmas,” said Ms. Daly, beaming a meaningful stare around to each of the children, but lingering on JP. Maybe there was another reason he had gone home with his mother last night!
“Oh, okay! Christmas boarders! Hurry, come in, I can see your breath!”
Inside the car, Marta unzipped me from inside her pink jacket where she’d been carrying me and handed me over to JP. He zipped me up in his red jacket. He wore a Santa hat today, with a white puffball flopping around the end of it. Those puffballs were my guilty Christmas pleasure to play with, but all it did now was make me heave a sigh.
I watched Marta help buckle Nikki in next to us. Patch was in her arms, wearing his red walking jacket and leash, but the pink jelly bag sat at her feet.
Marta shut the door without slamming it. She was a nice girl, already wise to us cats. I was going to miss her.
“Is Aunt…Aunt…Is she here, too?” asked Nikki.
“Sure is,” said the man, Uncle Dave. “She had a last-minute assignment she had to upload, so she’ll be meeting up with us at the pastor’s place later.”
A car beetled out around us, made a goose sound.
“There’s your mom, Marta.”
Our car began to follow the other one. Patch gave an unsure mew.
“Aw, it’s okay, little guy,” said Uncle Dave.
I just squeezed tighter to JP, watching out the window. My whiskers were still tingly.
Oh, come on with it. I already failed Patch. You may as well come, snow.
But there wasn’t a flake in the sky when the children clumped out of the car onto the pastor’s lawn. No matter where I looked in the bleary sky, there was no motion, nothing white drifting down.
“You looking for Santa, buddy
?” JP asked me.
“Maybe he’s going to eat a…a snowflake on his tongue!” said Nikki.
Marta rang the bell.
“I didn’t think it snowed here,” said Uncle Dave.
“If it does, it’ll be a miracle,” said Mrs. Rivera. “It’s been two years since the last snowfall, and it didn’t stick.” Next to her, Mr. Rivera nodded.
The door opened. Pastor Wade gave us a great smile. Behind him I could smell turkey, ham, and other good foods hanging in the air.
“Merry Christmas, guys! Come in, come in! I haven’t seen it this cold in a coon’s age!”
“I hope it’s all right…the cats…” said Ms. Daly.
“You know what? That’s just fine, we know they’re special cats.”
Dave shook the pastor’s hand. “Thanks for having us on such short notice.”
“Hey, what’s Christmas all about? I can’t tell you there’s no room in this inn. Is your wife coming?”
“She’ll be along.”
The pastor gave two thumbs up. “Perfect. Come on in, my wife’s just pulling the breakfast casseroles out, we’ll bless the food, then eat.”
The dinner table in the pastor’s house was huge, and other tables were set up too, all with humans at them: some young, some old, some alone, some in pairs. At one table sat four children with hair so yellow it was almost white, just like the pastor’s. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, twinkling colors like flowers. It was a smaller—much smaller—tree than I’d decorated at Cleanwhisker Farm, but there were dozens and dozens of shiny-wrapped present boxes piled around it. Oh, how I’d miss being down here!
“Ms. Daly, Nikki, JP, we saved you a spot here at the big table.”
Patch leaned off Nikki a little, sniffing at the good smells coming from the table.
Marta took a place between her mother and father at a table near the fireplace.
“Oh, and Ms. Daly?” said the pastor. “Are you still moving after Christmas?”
“Yes, Pastor.”
“I hope this isn’t forward, but I told a few of our parishioners, and I’ve got a few families lined up who’d be happy to help you move.”
Ms. Daly looked down. “It’s just a few feet…from an RV into the house…”
“Still. The offer’s there.” He squeezed her shoulder.
“Thank you, Pastor.”
“No problem.”
Just then, the pastor’s wife came out from the kitchen wearing red and green mitts and carrying a big pan of something flaky-smelling. She set it on the main table, then raised her voice.
“OK, everyone! Let’s have the blessing, then we can start.” The humans began holding one another’s hands. JP scooched me to one arm and put his hand on his sister’s shoulder. The human woman on his other side did the same, her hand frail and shaking. I licked it and she chuckled in her wizened voice.
“Honey?” The pastor’s wife turned to her husband.
His smile turned thoughtful. “You know what? I got a feeling we should mix it up this year. JP?”
The boy squeezed me tight. “Yes, sir?”
“Could you give us the prayer?”
Ms. Daly looked at her soon, worry lines under her eyes.
“I’ve never done it before,” he said.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” said the pastor.
“No…I’ll…I’ll try.”
The pastor’s smile was like a sun. “Just speak from the heart. You’ll do great.”
JP took a deep breath. I purred. The old woman next to us squeezed his shoulder. JP bowed his head and closed his eyes, just like the other humans.
“Um, God? We’re here. We’re thankful for Pastor Wade, the food, and that it’s Christmas. Um…” There was a long pause. The youngest of the straw-blonde children opened one eye. I stuck my tongue out at her, and she giggled.
“Thank you for our families and friends and pets…” another long pause. “…and we hope you’re having a good Christmas up there, too. Um…that’s it,” he ended in a whisper.
Amen, I thought.
“Amen,” said the pastor.
“Amen,” said everyone else.
But before we could even sit down, the doorbell rang.
The pastor jumped away from his chair and went to the door.
“Go ahead and start without him,” his wife told the room.
“Go ahead and start without me,” her mate called a second later.
She smiled. “This is our normal.”
JP was passing a basket of rolls to the old woman when the pastor ducked his head back in.
“Ms. Daly? You’re needed outside. JP? Nikki? Marta? You guys, too.”
Frowns passed between the children and their mother. JP pushed us away from the table. Uncle Dave stood to come, but Ms. Daly waved him back down. She had both hands on her children’s shoulders when we all stepped outside.
“Dwight!” I called when I saw him. His grey superbox was up by his face, his smile broad between his dark beard. The microphone woman had her microphone in one hand and a big blank cardboard rectangle in her other hand, bigger than two pizza boxes, at least!
“Hey, JP! Hey, Nikki! Hey, kitties!” said the microphone woman.
JP ducked, suddenly shy.
“Are you Christine Daly?” asked the woman.
“Yes,” she said. She glanced at Dwight’s superbox. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m Lana Fitzgerald from Channel Three news. We spoke to your children at the Christmas Fair this past week.”
She hugged her children in tight. “Uh huh?”
“They explained your situation to us—about your tough year, being new in town, and just wanting a place of their own so they can keep their cats, which you son says are really helping your daughter recover from her accident.”
“Yes…?” Ms. Daly looked like she was waiting for a cage door to slam shut. But kindness was in the microphone woman’s smile.
“Well…the segment was archived on our online video page. A young girl by the name of Cassidy saw it and wanted to help. She has a service animal, too, and knows how important they are to their owners. With the help of her parents, she started a Gener-US-ity campaign on behalf of your family. We announced this development to our viewers in a follow-up video.”
“…Yes?” Ms. Daly looked confused as a kitten in a hole.
“There was a huge response from our community and organizations within our community.”
JP and Marta looked at each other.
Ms. Daly’s eyes were bulging now. “YES?! And??”
The woman turned the big white cardboard around. “On behalf of News Three and our community of viewers, I’d like to present you with this check for thirty-five thousand dollars.”
Nobody moved for a second. And then Ms. Daly fell down.
“MOM?” yelled JP, dropping to his knees. Ms. Daly’s face was buried in her hands. I could smell the tears from here.
“Mom?” said Nikki, softly. “Why are you crying?”
Ms. Daly sobbed a little more, then finally looked up, smile twisting out of the tears.
“B…because…you can keep your cats now.”
“REALLY?!” shouted Nikki, clutching Patch.
Marta grabbed JP and jumped for joy. “JP!”
He jumped with her. I bobbed up and down with each rebound, in a daze. I still couldn’t believe my ears. Patch was going to stay with Nikki. And the snow hadn’t fallen! I hadn’t failed my mission! He was going home with Nikki!
“Should be more than enough to get you guys in a nice big apartment,” said Dwight. “Miss Lana, why don’t you tell her the rest?”
“There’s more?” squeaked Ms. Daly.
“As a result of the Gener-US-ity campaign, some local businesses took a look at your online resume. Four of them would like to interview you, but you’ll be able to choose which position yo
u go with. All of them said from the look of your qualifications, they’d be happy to have you.”
Tears rolled down Ms. Daly’s face. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“Here, Mom.” Nikki stuck Cowboy in her Mother’s face. “Cowboy will help you feel better.”
Ms. Daly took Patch. He began licking away her tears, and finally she laughed.
“Thank you. Thank you. You’re all angels. Merry Christmas!” She hugged the kit to her.
Then she looked up at the pastor. “Looks like we’re going to need help moving after all.”
He laughed. Patch’s new family all laughed with him.
I looked upward toward Heaven. Thank You, Lord.
The first snowflake drifted down. I reached for it.
We went back inside, where Pastor Wade explained what had gone on Outdoors. It had been a surprise to him, too. The snow was falling nonstop now, white fluff like a summer shedding. JP and I had no sooner sat down when the doorbell rang for the second time. Pastor Wade jumped up again.
“That’d better not be for me,” said Ms. Daly. “If I cry anymore, I’ll dry up into an old husk.”
“Or jerky!” said JP.
“Or a…mummy!” said Nikki.
Uncle Dave smiled. “After what you’ve been through this year, sis, I’m surprised you haven’t cried yourself into a puddle.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
“What’s this about a puddle?” said a familiar voice.
I looked up.
No…it couldn’t be!
The children jumped up.
“Aunt Gina! Aunt Gina!”
She hugged us all. She was a little older now, but I’d never forget her voice, her scent, the way her arms wrapped around a body.
“And who’s this handsome boy?” she asked Nikki, pointing to Patch.
“Cowboy,” said Nikki, grinning. “My cat.”
“Well hello, Cowboy, Nikki’s cat.”
Gina offered her fist to the kit and he rubbed his head against it.
That’s my girl.
“Is this your Gina?” whispered Patch. “The baby?”
“Sure is,” I said.
Then she turned to JP and me.
