9. Lynne （Now）
Lynne (Now)
In the morning, she woke to a fresh pot of coffee waiting for her in the kitchen and a note from Leo: Everyone’s in guest room. Mama and Fred fed. Hope rescue visit goes well. Text if needed.
She did the quick math in her head as she poured creamer into her mug. Her coffee maker wasn’t programmable. She didn’t know when Leo managed to get them all upstairs, but he must’ve still been here in the morning.
The guest room was quiet when she pressed her ear against the door.
She opened it slowly and spotted the kittens in the cozy corner in a pile.
Fred kept watch over them at the foot of the bed.
Mama was nowhere to be seen. Lynne tiptoed inside and found her asleep, hidden in a corner where the bed blocked her view.
She’d silenced her socials last night before bed because she was getting pinged by what felt like all of Autumn Ridge, asking how the kittens were doing while she brushed her teeth.
But knowing the litter was safe upstairs now, she felt compelled to reply with something, especially since posting before O’Donnell’s opened might prevent some nosy neighbors from dropping in today just to check on the cats.
She pulled up the bar’s account, found the thread where Minka had tagged her, and replied with a succinct but clear: For those asking, they’re safe. That’s all I’ve got right now.
And, somehow, in the time it took her to eat breakfast, do one more check downstairs, and open for business, her reply received more traffic than the number of followers on O’Donnell’s account.
Strangers from out of town commenting on how cute the litter was and offering unsolicited advice.
Lynne had to mute her alerts all over again just so she could get some work done.
She snuck upstairs a few times throughout the lunch shift to check on the cats.
Mama made her way back to the cuddle pile, but she kept her distance.
At one point, she realized Mama wasn’t letting them feed.
Anytime a kitten would try to latch on, she’d push them away or shift out from underneath them.
Fred also seemed distressed, pacing back and forth between Mama and the pack, licking ears and mewing as if he was trying to moderate an argument.
Lynne felt that knot form in her stomach again. She grabbed her phone and messaged Leo. Did you see Mama feed the kittens anytime between last night and when you left this morning?
It took one excruciating hour for him to reply. No. Everything ok?
She wasn’t sure how to reply. Happy hour started, and she accidentally spilled lager all over the floor because her mind was still upstairs with the cats. As she bent down to clean it up, Ruby sauntered over.
“Something wrong?” she asked. “You’ve been disappearing a lot today. I hope everything’s alright with that litter.”
Lynne gulped. “I don’t know. I actually think something may be off.”
Ruby pushed her gray hair back from her face. “Why don’t you take some time to figure it out? I’ve got you covered down here.”
“You sure?” Lynne asked.
“It’s better than more spilled beer, my dear. Go.”
Lynne ran upstairs to find Mama dominating the warm, cuddly corner and hissing at the kittens. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” Lynne tried to explain. She held out a fresh can of food, and Mama bolted across the room. “Well, shit.”
She grabbed her phone from her back pocket and messaged Leo: Something’s wrong. Texting Cali’s friend. Then she found the number. Hey, Nina. It’s Lynne in Autumn Ridge—with the cats. Do you have an ETA? Something’s wrong with mama cat.
It took a little while to receive a reply, and it didn’t bring any sort of comfort: Work ‘til 5 then OMW. Txt details.
She typed a long explanation, deleted half of it, and sent what Nina would see for herself soon enough. At least five o’clock wasn’t that far away. Eastmoor was a couple of hours on top of that, but it was what it was.
When Nina replied, it was simply Ok.
Leo called, and they strategized around ways to get the kittens fed and warm.
He remembered there were several cans of milk replacer in the bags he’d brought over last night.
So Lynne cracked open one and poured milk into a shallow dish then placed it near the kittens.
But the inner voice of doubt crept in—loudly—while she closed off Mama’s access and set up the heating pad on a timer for the kittens.
It didn’t help that Mama was growling at her the whole time.
She tried to explain this all to Mama in calm, hushed tones.
“I get it. You’re stressed, too. It’s no wonder,” she said as she coiled a blanket on the floor nearby.
“First, the humans find you. Then they insist on moving you. But help’s on the way.
We just have to wait. Of course, waiting’s the hard part.
” Mama’s growls turned into soft grumbles as Lynne kept talking.
“Mama, I’m gonna let Fred out, just in case you decide to take it out him, too, okay? ”
She couldn’t be too sure, but Mama seemed satisfied with that game plan.
When she went back down to the bar, Ruby nodded and gave her a thumbs-up.
The next couple hours dragged on uneventfully. Every time she snuck upstairs she saw the same thing—Mama asleep in her blanket, and fussy, frustrated kittens who hadn’t touched the shallow dish.
Then she got another text from Nina. Traffic jam. Just now leaving Eastmoor.
Lynne cursed under her breath. By the time Nina arrived, Lynne had driven half her staff crazy with her pacing, forgetfulness, and clumsiness. They begged her to go upstairs.
“I put down milk replacer, but they won’t take it,” Lynne confessed as she opened the apartment door for Nina. “Mama won’t let them anywhere near her.”
Nina surveyed the room and complimented Lynne’s setup, adjusted a few things, then turned the conversation back to the feeding issue. “How long since they were fed?”
“At least since early this morning, but, honestly, it’s probably been more like 24 hours.”
Nina’s expression changed. She glanced over at Mama and back at the litter and furrowed her brow.
She picked up one of the kittens who had wandered off the blanket and cradled it in her hands.
Lynne noticed how slow and fragile the little one seemed.
All the spunk from earlier today was fading. A lump formed in her throat.
“He’s cold,” Nina shared. “Lynne, you must start bottle-feeding them. I can’t stress how serious this is. We’ll do the first one together, but then they’ll all need to be fed every 2-3 hours. Got it?”
Lynne bit at the inside of her cheek and nodded.
Nina showed her how to warm the formula and prep the bottles.
They had to be careful to pace the feeding to avoid aspiration.
Then it was a rinse-and-repeat of burp, wipe faces and bottoms, and monitor each kitten before moving on to the next.
Between the two of them, it took a half hour to feed all five.
But by then everyone, including Lynne, looked a little more comfortable.
“You did great. But it’s going to be a long night. Are you sure there isn’t someone who can come over and help? What about Cali?”
Lynne shook her head. “She’d drop everything and miss work tomorrow if I texted her right now. All of The Nine would. That’s why I don’t want to bother any of them just yet.”
She could tell Nina was chewing on a thought. “Then should I—?”
“No. You’ve already done so much just driving out here, Nina. I promise, if I find I can’t handle it on my own tonight, I’ll call Cali.”
Or Leo, she thought.
Nina seemed relieved. “Okay. I believe you. Let me show you how to weigh them while I’m here, too.
Okay? I’d normally recommend weighing them once each day at the same time.
But given what’s happened, aim for twice per day, about twelve hours apart if you can.
Do it right before feeding so you don’t forget.
I know we just fed them, but let’s do it once together as a baseline. ”
After Nina left and Lynne started counting the minutes toward the next feeding, she reread Leo’s last text three times, questioning her decision to do this on her own, and obsessed over the heating pad timer.
She went back to her own reply on social media and typed out another. Update: Mama’s struggling to feed. We’re— Then she deleted it.
We shouldn’t have moved them, Lynne kept scolding herself. I rushed it. I scared Mama.
Anytime those thoughts crept in, she sat near Mama and talked sweetly to her, even if she was asleep.
The hours came and went, and every kitten was weighed and tracked then fed with care. No one aspirated. No one got hurt. But Lynne couldn’t help but feel the pressure building by the time 6 a.m. arrived.
Her hands shook from exhaustion and adrenaline as she typed out a message to Leo. I need you here after your shift. Bring clothes. A toothbrush. Please. I’ll explain more later.