The Year the Cat Saved Christmas - a novella Read online

  "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."

  Jill took a deep breath and plunged in. "Marge, this isn't what you think."

  "Oh, honey!" A third wink in case they'd missed the previous two. "Of course it is. A fool could see how happy you are."

  "Marge, I think you've had a bit too much eggnog. David and I aren't getting back together again. We're just trying to find Sebastian before the kids get home from the mall."

  Marge's jolly face sagged like a fallen souffle. She sighed deeply. "Guess I'm one of a dying breed," she said, looking from Jill to David. "My hubby calls me an incurable romantic" Another sigh. "All I want is for everyone to be as happy as Archie and I are."

  "Archie is a lucky man," David said with a perfectly straight face.

  Jill suppressed a snort of laughter. Archie was Marge's fifth husband. The other four had headed for the hills before the first anniversary.

  "Well, have a merry Christmas anyway," Marge said, "although I must say you've put quite a damper on my holiday mood."

  "She certainly told us off," Jill said as they escaped the hardware store. "You'd think we were divorcing just to spite her."

  "Maybe she wanted to give us tips on how to have a happy marriage," David said. "You've got to admit she's had enough experience."

  "She means well."

  "She's a loud-mouthed snoop who spends half her life spreading gossip and the other half creating it."

  "I never knew you spent so much time analyzing Marge Foster."

  "Marge is easy to figure out," he said. "It's the rest of your gender that has me stumped."

  Jill stopped in her tracks. "Frank's standing in the doorway of the butcher shop and he doesn't look happy."

  Frank was obviously fuming mad. For a second Jill thought she saw steam swirling over his head. They were definitely on Sebastian's trail.

  "Merry Christmas, Mr. DeMarco," Jill said pleasantly.

  "Merry Christmas, my butt." Frank aimed a glare at both of them. "That damn cat of yours wished me a merry Christmas and now I'm out two crown roasts and a tenderloin. Don't you people feed that animal?"

  "Name your price, Frank." David pulled his wallet out. "Just tell us where Sebastian went from here."

  Frank treated them to a five minute tirade against poor Sebastian before he accepted a hundred dollar bill and their apologies. What he didn't do was tell them where Sebastian was heading when he departed.

  "Good for Sebastian," David said as the butcher door slammed shut. "Too bad he didn't take the turkeys too."

  They started walking again and Jill shivered. "It's getting worse out," she said, looking up at the heavy, cream-colored sky. The wind had picked up considerably and the temperature was dropping fast. She met David's eyes. "He'll never make it through the night. Not in this weather."

  David took her hand. She felt the same bone-deep shock of recognition as she had before and she didn't pull away.

  "Cats have nine lives, remember? He hasn't used up more than four or five."

  She laughed despite her fear. "I would've figured a solid seven."

  "Five, max. Our Sebastian was born under a lucky star."

  "Twelve years ago tonight," she whispered. "I'll never forget when he popped out of the backpack. I fell in love right on the spot."

  "Remember how his nose got out of joint when the kids were born? He disappeared for three days after I started carrying the twins around in his backpack."

  "Sebastian got over it," she said, smiling at the memories. "He loves the kids now. He's been sleeping on the foot of Tori's bed since--"

  Since you left. She didn't say the words aloud but then she didn't have to. They hung in the air between them just the same.

  They asked about Sebastian at the barber shop, the hair salon, the deli, the video store, and the dry cleaners. The same thing happened every time. The second their old friends and neighbors saw Jill and David together they made the inevitable leap in logic, only to have their hopes dashed.

  Jill's nerves were shot. In less than a half hour, she and David had fueled more gossip than Entertainment Tonight and National Enquirer combined.

  "If one more person tells me how thrilled they are to see us together, I'll scream."

  "They're looking for a happy ending, Jilly. You can't blame them for that."

  "It doesn't bother you?" she demanded as they stopped in front of the bank.

  "This is a small town. It comes with the territory."

  Jill made a face. "So says the man who's leaving for San Francisco."

  He checked his watch. "What time is Phyllis bringing the kids back?"

  "Around five," Jill said. He was probably counting the minutes until he lef
t for the airport.

  "It's getting late."

  Tears burned against her lids. "You're right," she said, pushing her hair off her face with an impatient gesture. "I should get home."

  "If I wasn't expected at the open house tomorrow, I'd change my plane reservations."

  "Sure you would."

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

  "Exactly what I said."

  "Damn it, Jill, Sebastian is every bit as important to me as he is to you."

  "I know that."

  "You're doing it again."

  "Doing what?"

  "That." He glowered at her. "Saying the right thing in the wrong tone of voice."

  "Sorry if I've offended you."

  "If you've got something to say, say it. You never used to be shy."

  "I want to go home," she said, tears threatening. "Maybe Sebastian is there."

  "We haven't checked with Don at the pharmacy."

  "I'm not going in there."

  "Since when?"

  "Since now." Had they drifted so far apart that he'd left those memories behind with everything else? "Say something, David." Tell me you remember the way it used to be.

  Instead, he looked at her for a long time then turned and walked away.

  #

  Then

  "You buy it," Jill said to David as they loitered in aisle three of Tudor Pharmacy, pretending they were choosing Christmas cards.

  "You're embarrassed?" He sounded amused, faintly surprised.

  "Of course I'm not embarrassed." She hesitated, feeling almost afraid to say the words in case she woke up the gods of bad karma. "I'm superstitious."

  Grinning, he leaned closer. "You're mumbling, Jill. You never mumble."

  She gave him a gentle elbow in the ribs. "I'm superstitious," she repeated. "I'm not proud of it but there you are." All week long she'd knocked on wood, tossed salt over her shoulder, and turned her back on black cats. She knew she was wishing for the impossible but who said miracles didn't happen? Somehow she knew this time it would all be different.

  He pretended to study the array of home pregnancy tests on the shelf. "Which one has the magic?" he asked. She heard the fear and pride and longing in his voice and knew a fierce moment of love so deep and strong it almost frightened her.

  She pointed toward a blue box and followed him to the cashier.

  The next morning they waited together for the results.

  "Five minutes take a hell of a long time," David said, staring at the special receptacle that came with the test.

  She squeezed his hand. "I have a feeling," she whispered. "A good feeling."

  He looked at her, his expression both curious and hopeful. "So do I," he said.

  They woke up before dawn the next morning.

  "Merry Christmas Eve," he said, kissing her gently.

  "Merry Christmas Eve," she said, then disappeared into the bathroom with the package.

  "We're going to be lucky this time, Jilly," he said as they waited. "Christmas Eve is our day."

  "I know," she whispered. They'd met on Christmas Eve. Sebastian came into their lives on Christmas Eve. Maybe God would bless them with a miracle on Christmas Eve.

  The clock ticked. Their hearts thundered. Then the moment came.

  "I can't look," she said, burying her face against his shoulder. Finally, after all these years, a doctor had offered them a chance at heaven. Things were different for them now. David was earning a good salary and they had plowed most of it into exploring every medical avenue available that might lead them closer to a healthy, happy baby. They'd weathered disappointment after disappointment by holding tight to each other and to their dream of parenthood, but the experience had taken its toll.

  She loved him so much and he deserved the family he yearned for. The family he'd never had as a child. If her body failed her this time, she didn't know if she would be able to bear it.

  The timer dinged.

  "Oh, David, would you--?"

  He nodded, then stood up and walked into the bathroom. She closed her eyes against the shattering of a dream. Please, she prayed. Please, please.... She heard her husband draw in a deep breath and then she heard nothing. An anguished moan escaped her lips but then she looked up to see the most beautiful sight on earth. David knelt in front of her, tears streaming down his lean cheeks as he held out the plastic vial.

  A black plus sign shimmered at the bottom...a beautiful, glorious black plus!

  They laughed and cried and held each other close that morning, whispering words of love and joy that seemed to shimmer in the air around them. She felt drunk with ecstasy, as if some rare and wondrous nectar of the gods bubbled through her veins, making her one with the universe and everyone in it.

  He placed a gentle hand against her belly and she laughed and covered his hand with hers. She had loved him as long as she could remember. From the first moment, she'd known this was the man she would grow old with, the man in whose arms she wanted to die.

  The man who would be the father of her child.

  #

  No wonder Jill didn't want to go into the pharmacy. There were ghosts in there. And not just any ghosts. He wouldn't have minded Mrs. Adelson who had lived up the hill or Old Man Martinson who died three years ago. Seeing them again would have been okay. The ghosts he'd seen in the pharmacy were a different kind, and they were a hell of a lot more dangerous.

  He saw himself in that old drugstore and he saw Jill. He saw them as they'd been back at the beginning, young and poor and happy. He saw them picking up the Sunday paper and choosing anniversary cards. He saw them buying home pregnancy tests the way other people bought lottery tickets praying the day would come when they finally hit the jackpot.

  "Surprised to see you," Don the pharmacist said from behind the counter. "Thought you were on your way to the City by the Bay."

  "I leave tonight," he said.

  "Sorry to hear you're still going. I feel like I watched you and Jill grow up. Never thought it would come to this."

  "Neither did I," David said.

  "You got yourself another woman?"

  He shook his head. "Jill's a tough act to follow."

  "So what's the problem? You love her. She loves you. Seems to me that's the ticket to a happy ending."

  "She loves me?" His tone was laced with hopeful skepticism. "What makes you think she still loves me?"

  "Not my place to tell you," Don said. "You need to figure that out for yourself."

  "I've been trying to figure it out for the last eight months," he said, "and the only thing I know for sure is that she wants a divorce."

  "Maybe she does," Don said slowly, "and maybe she doesn't."

  "Great," David said. "Now you're talking in riddles."

  "I've been around a long time," the pharmacist said, "and I've learned a lot about people standing behind this counter. All I can tell you for sure is that the two of you still love each other. That has to mean something."

  David's heart was beating on the outside of his chest. "Do you really think she still loves me?

  Don tossed him a sprig of mistletoe. "If you really want to know, why don't you ask her?"

  He had argued, debated, shut up, shut down and everything in between but the one thing he had never done was ask if she still loved him.

  "Ask her," David said, clutching the mistletoe. "I'm going to ask her."

  He bolted for the door.

  "Hey!" the pharmacist called out. "Didn't you want something?"

  "My wife," he said as he hit the street. He wanted her love, her friendship, her company. He was going to take her in his arms and ask her if she loved him and if he didn't like her answer first time around, he was going to kiss her soundly and ask her again.

  The whole town couldn't be wrong. He and Jill belonged together. They had belonged since their first phone conversation, their first car ride, their first kiss. And he wasn't going to just ask her if she loved him, he was going to tell her how he felt, t
ell her all the things he hadn't told her for too damn long--that he loved her and needed her and that there had to be some way to put it all back together again.

  She wasn't in front of the store where he'd left her.

  He looked up one side of the street then down the other.

  She wasn't anywhere.

  "Damn it, Jill!" He dragged a hand through his hair. "Where are you?"

  First his cat and now his wife. He was beginning to see a pattern taking shape. He still had the car keys so she couldn't have gone far. Maybe she'd spotted Sebastian and had gone off in pursuit. He noticed Ted Weinstein watching him from the bakery window and he darted into the shop.

  "Have you seen Jill?"

  "Son of a gun," said Ted, grabbing his hand and shaking it. "It's true. You two are back together."

  "Not yet," David said, "but we will be if I can find out where she went."

  "That way," Ted said, pointing north. "Toward Burnt Sugar Hill."

  Suddenly it all made sense. The little cottage where they had dreamed big dreams. David laughed out loud and planted a kiss on the baker's weathered cheek. "I owe you, Ted. Big time."

  Ted made a face and wiped off the kiss with the back of his hand. "Send a greeting card. This kissing stuff is too continental for me."

  David ran through the snowy streets. There was a shortcut that would take him back to their house. It had been a long time since he'd taken that route but somehow it felt like yesterday. He didn't feel the cold. He didn't slip on the ice. He ran faster than he'd ever run before, as if somebody had attached jet skis to the bottoms of his shoes. Somebody was watching over him, maybe the goddess of stupid husbands who'd almost let the best woman on earth walk away without a fight.

  So what if she got mad or slapped his face or said she never wanted to speak to him again. She'd already said she wanted a divorce. There was nothing else she could do that would hurt him more than that. This time he'd stand his ground and fight for his family and he wouldn't back down.

  "Jilly!" She was halfway to Burnt Sugar Hill when he saw her figure through the swirling snow. "Wait up!"

  If anything, she walked faster. Her head was ducked low against the wind and snow. Her hands were plunged deep into her pockets.