Nine Lives (Lily Dale Mystery #1)(59)

“She didn’t, Max,” Bella assures him again. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“I don’t know. I just do.”

“What made you say the kittens were coming today?”

“I made me say it.”

“Yes, but how did you know?”

He shrugs. “I just knew.”

It could have been a lucky guess. Thinking back to their conversation at the animal hospital, she remembers that Doctor Bailey had said the kittens were due within the week and that there would be quite a few of them.

Maybe seven was another lucky guess. Anything between two and ten would have been sensible—though how would Max know that?

Then again, she reasons, he did say seven or possibly eight, giving him even greater odds of getting it right.

Good. See? All you have to do is take a step back from this mystical Lily Dale mentality and apply logical thinking.

She can probably come up with a rational explanation for most of the so-called psychic phenomena around here if she just—

“Mom! What is she doing?”

She looks up to see that Chance has left the crate and is staring at the door. Her ears standing straight up, twitching as if she’s listening intently.

“I don’t know. Maybe she heard something outside. An animal or something.”

“It’s her other kitten! She got lost and Chance the Cat couldn’t find her in the dark, and now she’s crying out there all alone.”

“Did you hear her crying?”

“No, but her mommy did, because she has instinct and great hearing.”

He may be right. Chance emits a sudden, agitated chirping sound and practically throws herself at the door.

Max hurries to open it. The cat scoots past him and is swallowed by the darkness, leaving seven crying kittens behind.

“It’s okay, guys. Your mommy will be right back.”

Bella certainly hopes Max is right. She peers outside, wondering what it was that lured the cat from the nest. Did she really drop one of her kittens?

Maybe she heard a bird out there, or a rodent, or . . .

What if she heard someone prowling around the house?

Oh, come on, Bella. She’s a cat, not a guard dog.

“Hurry up, Chance the Cat!” Max calls. “Your babies are crying!”

After a brief rustling in the bushes near the porch, the cat springs up onto the porch, another kitten clasped in her mouth.

“It’s Spider!” Max hollers.

Dumbfounded, Bella watches Chance trot calmly into the house and drop a wee black speck of a kitten into the nest with the others.

“Number eight! My boy instinct was right, Mommy, see?”

Bella nods as if she does. But she doesn’t see anything at all, while her son somehow sees . . .

The future? Really?

What, exactly, did Odelia say about . . . wow. Was that only yesterday?

Entire seasons seem to have passed since Bella sat lounging in the sun-splashed yard, so new to all this, so na?ve. Everything Odelia told her seemed farfetched.

And now . . . what? Now you believe it? You’re an overnight convert to Spiritualism?

No. Of course not. It’s just that things have happened since yesterday that she can’t quite explain, including this latest experience with Max and the kittens.

So what was it Odelia had said about children and psychic experiences?

Unlike adults, they haven’t yet fully learned what they’re supposed to see and feel—and what they aren’t.

She was talking about Jiffy, Bella reminds herself. His mother is a medium, and it runs in families. That’s what Odelia claimed, and yet . . .

She also said anyone is capable, didn’t she?

If anyone can do it, and if kids are more susceptible, then maybe Max is . . . one of them.

Bella abruptly closes the front door, as if that might somehow keep Lily Dale from seeping in.

“He’s so tiny, Mommy.”

“What?”

“Spider. He’s really, really, really small. Like this big.” Max presses his thumb and forefinger together.

“Let’s see.” Bella settles on the floor beside the crate to get her first good look at the brood. Most of the kittens are still prone and nursing, kneading their mama’s soft fur with their tiny pink paws as they suckle. It’s impossible to discern the tiny black latecomer from the wriggling, mewing heap of fur babies.

“I love them!” Max declares. “I want to keep them all.”

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” she murmurs, mulling the latest twist in their Lily Dale stay as her son talks on about all the fun he can have with “his” cat and kittens.

She’s grateful when a key turns in the lock and Helen and Karl Adabner, in the midst of animated conversation, step into the house.

“I know you did, but I don’t care. I just didn’t think—” Karl breaks off, spotting Max. “Well, hello, young man. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Bella corrects her son, looking up at the clock. “Is the evening message service over already?”

“Not quite, but it’s past our bedtime, too.” Catching sight of the crate as she follows her husband toward the stairs, Helen stops short. “Oh, my! What do we have here?”