The Year the Cat Saved Christmas - a novella by Barbara Bretton Page A

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,