Black Cat and the Accidental Angel (Black Cat Mysteries Book 3) (20 page)

John rose early the next morning, fixed a pot of coffee and carried a cup to the porch to watch the sunrise. The early morning sky glowed pink and gray.

Got a few minutes before I need to fix Cindy’s breakfast.
The porch swing squeaked as he settled into the cushions. A bit of quiet might help him sort through the jumble in his mind.

How did the old bum know that Cindy was alone?
What exactly was the reason for leaving the headless doll on the porch? What was that supposed to mean?

Maybe he was wrong to ask for sole custody of Cindy. If Carolyn really left her worthless boyfriend, maybe she was ready to make a home for Cindy.
It’s so hard to know what’s best for her.
Was it in her best interests to keep her with him, or had he made that decision just to spite his ex-wife?

He closed his eyes and listened to the stillness. A hummingbird barreled passed, paused at a flower by the porch, sipped and as quickly as it appeared, flitted off into the trees overhead. Nearby, in the bird enclosure, the papa Emus gurgled and cooed over their charges. The sitting papas shifted position and scratched at their unhatched eggs, fluffed their feathers and settled down on their nests.

John lifted his heart in an unspoken prayer.
I have faith that You can hear me. Help me, Lord. Help me make the right decisions for Cindy. Send me a sign that You’re in charge and everything—

“Daddy?” The screen door squeaked. Cindy stepped onto the porch.

“Good-morning, sweetheart. You’re up early.”

“Black Cat woke me. He jumped on the bed. Is it time for breakfast?” She yawned.

“It’s early. Do you want to go back to sleep for a while or sit and watch the sunrise with me? It’s so peaceful this time of day.”

Cindy curled up next to him and shoved her feet, swaying the swing. “I’ll sit here with you.” She pulled her bathrobe tighter around her body.

“Cold?” John draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his warm chest.

She shook her head and snuggled closer. The swing creaked.

“Daddy? I’ve been trying to think of a name for the tortoiseshell kitten and I just can’t decide. Pansy? Missy?”

John smiled. How
did
pets get their names? They named Angel because she held her head a certain way that looked like she was praying. Black Cat got his name because…because they couldn’t think of anything better. The Emus got elegant names like Gilbert and Myrtle because they were elegant. But, what do you call a striped mixed-up colored black and orange little kitten? Nothing came to mind.

“I guess you can name her Pansy or Missy. Whatever you want, honey.” He squeezed her arm.

“I named Muffins and Mrs. Stubblefield named Miss Bubblekins. You name this one, Daddy. I want you to. We’ve been calling her
Kitten
long enough. She needs her own name.”

“I’ve been thinking about faith this morning. Faith is a pretty name. What do you think of that?”

Cindy’s forehead wrinkled. She put her finger on her lip and nodded. “I like it. I’ll go and tell Faith she has a new name.” She jumped off the swing. “Thanks, Daddy.” The screen door slammed as she dashed into the house.

John rocked, sipped his coffee and looked across the bird enclosure to the vineyard, just visible in the early morning light. Twenty minutes ago, it was bathed in shadow. Now, the sun just glinted off the tops of the wires. The vineyard and the Emus were his future.

Faith. Good name for the kitten. Good thing to have. He shook his head. Faith wasn’t really his problem. He had faith that his chicks would sell, faith that the vineyard would produce again. Now that he thought about it, he even had faith that he’d made the right decision about Cindy. She was better off with him. He wasn’t going to let Carolyn take her.

No. faith wasn’t the problem. What he really needed was time. If only he could hold off the bank long enough for the rest of the eggs to hatch and the vines to produce next year, he’d be home free.

He smiled. Faith
was
a good name for the kitten. She’d remind him daily that he needed to believe that things would work out. If things didn’t work out and they had to lose the ranch, then they would need the grace to accept God’s will. Faith. Hope. Grace. That’s what they needed, all three. If they had another couple of kittens, he’d call them Hope and Grace.

They already had Faith.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I
’d much rather sit here in the sun with you girls, but according to my agent,” Brett forced his gaze away from his watch, “I should be working on my manuscript today.” He winked at Kimberlee, threw back his head and closed his eyes against the sun streaming onto the patio.

“And, I should be down at the bookstore, helping Mrs. Wilson stock the last batch of summer reading books. My excuse is that Dorian came to visit. What’s yours?” Kimberlee sipped her tea.

“Just lazy. I’m tired of working on my manuscript.”

Dorian huffed. “Are you really going to call your latest novel
Guilty as Charged and Unrepentant?
Could that be any shallower?” She grimaced.

“I’ve been trying to convince Brett to write another fiction novel. He’s such a good writer. I don’t know why he’s gone back to writing true-crime.” Kimberlee leaned over and punched Brett’s shoulder.

“Hey! My true-crime books pay the bills. I’m just following my agent’s advice. I’ll write another fiction novel one of these days. I’m waiting for the right inspiration.” Brett put on his sun glasses, tipped his face toward the sun and leaned back in his chair.

“How about making your protagonist a buxom blonde detective?” Dorian patted her hair. “I could give you plenty of plot ideas. In fact, I’ve been thinking of bleaching my hair from honey-blonde to Marilyn Monroe gold. What do you think?” She shook her flaxen ponytail.

“Talk about shallow…” Kimberlee giggled.

“Which reminds me. Have you heard anything more from Grandmother? Did she ever call back about Noe-Noe?” Dorian reached down to pat Sam. He lifted his head and gave her a doggy grin.

“No. Or if she did, Brett didn’t tell me.” Kimberlee glared at Brett. “He didn’t tell me about her first call for several weeks. I guess he figured I had enough to worry about. My headaches were still bothering me every day, right after…you know.”

“Better now?” Dorian added sugar and stirred her tea.

“Guess so.” Kimberlee put her hand to her forehead. “I’ve always had headaches. But they were worse after the accident. Now, only about once a week.”

“What did you decide to do about Grandmother’s cat?” Dorian shook her head. “I told you the day we left Texas, I didn’t think it was a good idea to take her.”

Brett set his glass on the table. “I don’t think we have to worry. Grandmother was just spouting off. She isn’t going to file charges against us. She’s just being ridiculous. What good would it do her, anyway? The cat’s gone. What
can
we do about it? Get her another cat?”

Kimberlee touched Dorian’s arm. “How serious is it to steal a cat?” She lowered her head.

Dorian laughed and gazed across the lodge. A brown leaf dropped from the tree overhead and landed on the patio table. She brushed it away from her glass. “I don’t exactly know the penalty for cat-napping…” She grinned. “I’m sure it’s a crime, but, I don’t think you have too much to worry about.”

Amanda wandered through the kitchen door, crooning to the black and white stuffed cat Dorian had bought her. Not that it would ever take Thumper’s place. “Now, Thumper, don’t cry. Are you hungry?” Amanda rocked the toy in her arms as she crossed the patio, then lifted it to her shoulder and patted its back. “You stay here with Dorian. Mommy will be right back.” She laid the stuffed cat on Dorian’s lap. “Will you take care of the baby for me, Aunt Dorian? I’m going to get Thumper a snack.”

“Sure, honey. I’ll…”

Amanda skipped across the cobblestones and into the house.

Brett reached across the table and took the toy from Dorian, slowly shaking his head.

“Do you see?” Tears sprang to Kimberlee’s eyes. “Some days I don’t even think about losing the cats, until I put Amanda to bed. She prays for them every night and that brings it all back fresh in my mind. Every night! I hate knowing how much she’s hurting. She won’t even talk about getting another cat. She’s so sure…”

“Maybe she’s just developed a habit, like,
now I lay me down to sleep, please bring home my cats.
” Brett leaned over and picked up Sam’s ball and gave it a heave across the lawn. “It would make things a lot easier if she’d let us get another kitten. It’s not like we’d ever forget Thumper, but it would be nice not to be reminded of the accident every single night.”

Sam took off in a golden streak, after the ball.

“Maybe you should get another kitten even if she says she doesn’t want one.” Dorian leaned back and closed her eyes. “Maybe she’d stop thinking about Thumper and
what’s-her-name
.”

“It’s hard to say.” Brett shook his head. “It might be worth a try.
The lost cat ads have lapsed and I haven’t called the Humane Society for several weeks. Wouldn’t they call if something turned up?”

“You should call them again this afternoon, just to be sure.” Kimberlee ran her fingers over his hand. “I got a book in the store last week.” Kimberlee gestured toward the house where Amanda had disappeared. “It’s about helping a child deal with the loss of a pet. The experts are divided on whether you should get another pet right away or wait. I don’t know why they bothered to write the stupid book when they don’t have any solution to the problem. So, we’re back to square one. I don’t know what to do.”

“Afraid I can’t help. I don’t have a kid. You’ll have to figure this one out yourself. Now, if you want to know anything about dogs, that’s another matter. Is there any more tea?” Dorian held up her glass.

“Thanks. You’re a big help.” Kimberlee poured Dorian another glass.

Many miles away, Black Cat lay half-dozing on the rumpled Indian blanket on the back of the sofa. He shifted away from an uncomfortable lump just beneath his left shoulder.
What is that?
A button sticking up from the sofa?
Oh good grief. Now I’m awake. The darn thing has ruined my nap.
He stood and arched his back, stretched his front legs and curled his toes.

Tires crunched outside in the yard. Black Cat opened one eye, and then sprang to his feet.
Not her again.
“Cindy’s mother is back!”

He bounded off the sofa and streaked across the room. “Grab Muffins! I’ll take Rambo and come back for Faith. We need to hide. The mama’s coming. Hurry! If she finds you, she might try to drag you and the kittens out the door before John and Cindy get back from the vineyard.”

Black Cat snatched Rambo by the scruff of the neck and waddled into Cindy’s room. Rambo’s fat little body swung from side to side.

Angel followed with Muffins and dragged her under Cindy’s bed.

Black Cat ran back for Faith. “Now, you kids keep quiet!”

The fur on Black Cat’s back bristled. Not this time. Never again! No more
pussy-footin’
around. If the mama tried something again, this time he would fight.

The front door opened and closed. Cupboard doors squeaked and slammed. Cups rattled. Water from the faucet hissed and the coffee grinder growled. Several minutes passed and the coffee pot began to gurgle. The mama settled in like she owned the place.
Who does she think she is?

Rambo mewed and Angel pressed her paw on top of his head. “
Shh
.” She pulled him over to her tummy and he began to nurse.

The television clicked on. Black Cat breathed a sigh of relief. The TV would drown out any sounds from the babies. He stretched out alongside Angel. Might as well finish my nap. The kittens were safe under the bed, as long as the mama didn’t know they were there.

John’s voice cut into Black Cat’s nap. “Carolyn. What are you doing here? I asked you to call before you came. Put out that cigarette.”