It's a Christmas Thing (The Christmas Tree Ranch #2)(12)

“If she had more coming, she’d be restless. But she seems to have settled down. My best guess is that she’s done.”

“Should I move them into the box?”

“Not just yet. In a few days, when they’re stronger and the mother is more accustomed to you, you can try it. For now, the best thing to do is leave them alone.”

“But . . . they’re under my bed.” She’d turned to face him. “I mean, what if they go on the carpet? What about the smell?”

“Don’t worry. The mother will keep them clean until they’re old enough to eat solid food. And you mentioned that she’d already discovered the litter box for herself.”

“I’ve got a lot to learn about cats.” She gave Rush a tired smile.

“Don’t worry, just let the mother do her job,” Rush said. “Have you thought of a name for her?”

“A name?”

“If you’re going to keep her, she’ll need one.”

She flashed him a stern look, reminding him that she was, after all, a judge. “But I haven’t made up my mind to keep her. I said I’d take her in, but giving her a name, that’s a commitment. Don’t push me.”

“Fine. You’ll know when you’re ready to decide.”

“If I’m ready. And speaking of ready, I think the coffee’s finished brewing.” She scooted away from the bed and scrambled to her feet. “If you want a cup, you’ll find me in the kitchen.”

“I’ll be a few minutes.” Rush took his time to study the little calico and her kittens under the bed. Did the mother look alert and comfortable? Was she taking care of her babies as she should? Were the kittens all moving and responsive?

Only after he’d satisfied himself that all was well did Rush turn off the flashlight, ease himself back from under the bed, and get to his feet. He could smell the coffee. But he wasn’t quite sure of the reception that waited for him in the kitchen. Tracy’s prickly response to his suggestion that she name the cat had caught him by surprise.

Should he apologize? No, Rush decided. They were both tired—too tired to get into an emotional discussion. He would drink his coffee, promise to check on the cats later, and leave while there was still time to get some sleep.

Tracy was waiting for him in the kitchen. She filled a mug from the glass carafe on the coffee maker. “Cream and sugar?” she asked.

“I’ll take it black, thanks.” Rush accepted the mug and took a seat at the table. The coffee was strong enough to jar him wide awake for the drive home. “From what I could see, the kittens and the mother cat all look fine. Make sure she has plenty of food and water, and she’ll do the rest. Don’t be surprised if she moves the kittens. Mother cats will do that if they don’t feel safe where they are.”

“Can I touch them, or even pick them up?”

“It might be best to wait a few days. Give the mother a chance to know you and trust you, so she won’t be upset when you handle her babies.”

“Wow.” She stirred half-and-half into her coffee. “I didn’t realize cats were so complicated. They’re almost like people.”

“So, you never had a cat?”

“I never had any pets growing up. My family lived in an apartment, no pets allowed. After my parents and sister died, my grandmother took me in. She was a good woman, but she couldn’t abide animals in the house. It wasn’t until Murphy—”

“Wait—you lost your family when you were young?”

“Yes.” Her voice was drained of emotion. “They were in a car accident when I was nine. If I hadn’t been at a sleepover, I would’ve been with them.” She paused, glancing down at her coffee mug. “There’ve been times when I wished I had been.”

“I’m sorry.” It was a lame response, Rush thought, but nothing better came to mind. He was seeing Tracy Emerson in a new light, as a woman defined by loss. Her family, her husband . . . Lord, no wonder the idea of putting down her old dog brought her to tears. And no wonder she seemed reluctant to take on a new relationship, or even to adopt a homeless cat.

Her smile was artificially bright. “What about you? Do you have a family somewhere?”

Rush swallowed the tightness in his throat. “Not anymore. I’m divorced. My ex-wife and—” He paused, deciding to save the whole story for another time, if that time ever came. “My ex-wife and her daughter live in Phoenix. She married an old boyfriend after we split up.” And that was that. He would spare Tracy the ugly details—the shattering revelation, the DNA test, and the final good-bye that had ripped the heart right out of him.

Standing, Rush carried his empty mug to the sink. “I’ll be glad to come back and check the kittens as they grow,” he said. “No charge—except maybe more of those sinful brownies.”

“I also make pretty mean chocolate chip cookies and wicked cinnamon rolls, if you’d like some variety. But honestly, I’d be happy to pay you in cash.”

“Heck, I can get money anywhere. Home-baked treats are in a class by themselves.” Rush picked up his medical bag. “How’s Murphy? Did you give him the Cosequin?”

She walked with him to the door. “I got the first couple of doses down him. I suppose it’ll be a while before we know whether it’s helping.”