Chapter Four #2
“I can call back,” I said, knowing I probably wouldn’t be able to. “Or my dad can.”
“No, no,” he said. “It’s fine. I’m just trying to feed Merry, and Bright is a hungry little hippo. Let me just put him back into the basket.”
There was a muffled sound, then he was back. “Okay, that’s better. How can one little kitten be such a bully to his brother? Here you go, Merry . . . That’s better . . . Good boy.”
I was smiling, my tummy ache suddenly all but gone.
“Sorry, Deacon,” he added. “What can I do for you? Is everything okay? Did I forget to pay for something?”
“No,” I replied. I could see his account was paid in full. “I was just calling to follow up on the kittens, to see how they were doing, and to ask if you had any questions.”
“Well, I think they’re okay. Eating well.
Bright is a big bully and poor little Merry gets trampled all over.
Me, on the other hand, slept for a total of two hours.
How do parents do this? It’s been one night.
” He sighed. “Ignore me. I’m just being dramatic.
Aww, little Merry finished his bottle. Give me one second. ”
It was quiet for a bit, then he was back again. “I appreciate you calling. I do have some questions, but I just received my first delivery of books and I need to get them entered into my computer system, and things are hectic here right now. Can I call you back, maybe later tonight?”
“Are you at the bookstore now?”
“Yes.”
“And you have the kittens with you at the store?”
“Uh, yes? I didn’t really have a choice.
They need feeding every five hours and I can’t leave them at home.
They’re too little and I need to check on them constantly, and I brought everything with me.
I have too much to do in the next three days to not to be here.
The store is heated, obviously, and I have a hot water bottle in their basket, and they have blankets.
I did everything I could think of. Everything you said.
I can send you photos, or you can come by and check on them.
” He made a humming sound. “Oh no. How do I know if I’m not doing something right? ”
“It sounds like everything you’re doing is great. Warm and fed is about all they need right now.”
“And cuddles,” he added. “I’m trying to get them used to being held and to know that they’re safe with me.”
That made me smile.
He offered for me to come check on them . . .
“Unless you think I should come past. My lunch break is at twelve and I have forty-five minutes.”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” he replied.
“It’s no problem. I must go help my dad with ferrets now. They bite and squirm.”
“Oh, okay. Well.” He made a funny noise.
“Good luck with the ferrets. I’ll see you after twelve.
It’s fine if you can’t make it. If there’s an emergency or something.
If there’s a ferret calamity. Don’t worry too much; I’ll understand.
If I don’t see you today, I’ll call you later, if that’s okay?
Is this an office number you’re calling from or your phone? ”
“My phone.”
“Then I have your number. If I have a kitten calamity, I’ll call you.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Thanks again for calling. I really do appreciate it,” he said. “I should go while these two little monsters are sleepy and get as much done as I can.”
“Okay,” I said, and ended the call.
I was still smiling when Dad came in.
“I take it by the look on your face that it went well,” he said.
I nodded. “He called them little monsters. The kittens.”
Dad’s smile widened. “Then it sounds like they’re all doing well. The felines and Winter.”
“He was feeding Merry when I spoke to him.”
“Merry?”
“Yes, Merry and Bright. He kept the names I gave them. And he said Bright was a bully to his brother.”
Dad chuckled, and he did that thing where he moved his head into my line of sight so I’d look him in the eye. “You feel better now?”
I nodded and held his gaze for a beat before looking away. “Yes. I think my tummy ache is gone.”
“Tummy ache, huh?” He found that funny for some reason, but then he nodded to the waiting room. “Good. Glad to hear it. Because we have six ferrets—”
“I told him I’d go see him during my lunch break,” I said. “Winter, I mean. He’s very busy and he had questions, and he wasn’t sure if he was doing everything right. I told him I could go there. I have forty-five minutes, and I won’t be late coming back.”
Dad paused for a second, studying my face. I didn’t dare catch his eye again because I wasn’t sure what he’d find in mine. “Only,” he said sternly, “if you bring back something sweet from the diner for me. And if you don’t tell your mother. And you better get one for Courtney as well.”
Courtney called out from her receptionist desk. “Yes, please.”
I laughed. “Deal.”
The bookstore was on Short Street, off Main Street.
As the name implied, it was only short and paved, with just a few stores on each side before it met the riverbank.
There were trees by the river and some new tables with chairs that weren’t there before.
Part of the youth center, if I recalled correctly.
There was talk about it at work when the center had first opened.
I remembered my dad saying it’d be good for the kids in town.
There were a few kids seated there now, talking and laughing among themselves, but I pretended I hadn’t noticed them.
I hadn’t been down here since the center opened, and the training café next door, and now the bookstore opposite. It was a nice little corner of town, especially with the sound of the river and the overhead sun.
The bookstore was a long, narrow shop with a glass front, and I could see Winter inside. He was wearing gray pants and a blue cardigan, putting a stack of books on the counter. He had some facial hair. Not a full beard, but enough scruff to give his jaw definition.
Seeing him made my tummy feel all jittery again, but not in an anxious way. This felt different. Like nerves and excitement, maybe? It was hard to tell.
Like when I was younger, waiting for a birthday, or the first day of spring.
I knocked on the door, and he smiled as he opened it. “Deacon, please come in.”
I stepped inside, trying to rein in my smile. I was excited to see him again, yes. But as soon as I saw all the books, it became something else.
“Wow,” I said. “It really does look like a bookstore.”
There were shelves on both walls, some lined with books, some with books stacked on them. Piles of books on the counter, and boxes and boxes of books on the floor.
Winter put his hand to his forehead. “It’s getting there. We’re doing inventory right now, getting things entered into the system. It’s the most labor-intensive part, but we’re getting there.”
That was twice he’d said we, and I had to wonder to whom he was referring just as a woman came out of the backroom. She was older, had grayish curly hair to her shoulders, she wore a bright green linen dress that matched her glasses, and red lipstick. She stopped and grinned when she saw me.
“You must be Deacon,” she said brightly. “I’m Rowena, Winter’s aunt.” She picked up a laundry basket with a blanket in it and slid it onto a stack of boxes. “Good timing for you to be here because these two just woke up.”
Ah, the kittens.
The reason for my visit.
I went over to her, peering inside the jumble of soft blankets. Two little blue eyes peered back at me and let out a tiny, squeaky meow. Then Winter was beside me, standing close enough for me to feel the heat of his body but not touching.
I was grateful.
He reached in and scooped out the kitten. “This is Bright. He’s a menace.” But then he cradled the cat to his chest and gave it a gentle kiss on its forehead. “He’s a big old meanie to his little brother. He just barrels right over him.”
I found myself smiling at them, then reached in to pick up Merry. “It’s normal for one to be dominant, the leader, if you will. The strongest, biggest.”
“Loudest,” Winter supplied. “Hungriest. Meanest.” He reached over and gave Merry a gentle rub. “Poor little one.”
“As long as he gains weight, he’ll be fine. Is he eating okay?”
Winter gave a nod and a shrug. “He takes his bottle just fine. It’s best to feed this little monster first.” He gave Bright another kiss. “Then Merry can take his time and get all he needs.”
“Well,” I said, “it sounds as though you’ve got them figured out. Seeing they have different needs, even at this age, is great. But you said you had questions?”
“Yes. I made a list.” He went over to the counter and collected a piece of paper. “I wrote things down as I thought of them.”
Then he proceeded to ask me things about toileting frequency, increasing milk, introduction of solids, is the basket and blanket suitable or should he use something else, how often should he change the hot water bottle . . .
It was quite a list.
He’d tried googling such things but found conflicting information, and he was petrified of doing the wrong thing.
His worry for them and his affection toward them was sweet.
He heated up some of their milk and showed me how he’d been feeding them. He’d taken to it so well and was doing just fine. The kittens seemed to be doing well, and I had no doubt they’d be growing by the minute.
They were so cute, as all baby animals were, but the way he was with them—the way he held them and talked to them—made me feel warm and swoopy inside.
“You have no reason to be worried,” I told him. “You’re doing a great job.”
“That’s what I told him,” his Aunt Ro said.
I’d forgotten she was there. I looked up, surprised and embarrassed as if I’d been caught doing something wrong.
She seemed to pick up on this. Or whatever the pointed look she gave Winter was about, I wasn’t sure. “I’m just going to duck up to the diner,” she said. “Leave you boys to talk.”