Chapter 37
It had been a surprisingly low-stress, not-absolutely-terrible morning and afternoon with Audra.
They’d enjoyed pancakes with strawberries and whipping cream and sides of bacon for Christmas brunch and even played a game of Scrabble—Audra’s idea.
You could’ve knocked Vic over with a feather.
It was, Vic believed, all because of Christmas—the cat that is, not the day.
It seemed like the exactly right name for the sparkly, surprisingly friendly little animal.
A bittersweet name just as the holiday itself was for so many people.
Sweet for the obvious, aforementioned reasons; bitter because there was absolutely no way, given her calm demeanor, familiarity with a litter box, and happy-to-be-with-the-humans personality, that she didn’t belong to someone.
Christmas had been on full-charm mode pretty much from the time Vic first fed her breakfast. She was fastidiously clean.
She didn’t make a pest of herself with Audra—but Vic had clocked her sitting near Audra’s chair, purring to beat the band.
And when Vic went to bed Christmas Eve, Christmas trotted upstairs after her like it was a well-established tradition already, jumped up beside her, and snuggled right in.
Vic cried a little. It was just so unexpected and nice. And it really felt . . . special. Christmassy.
Then, today, during their brunch, Christmas didn’t beg exactly, but she did keep them entertained by pointedly staring at them the whole time they ate, as if hoping, praying—or casting a benevolent hex—that one of them would drop a scrap of bacon.
When Audra did just that, clearly intentionally, Vic was so surprised that she giggled, which made Audra grumble crossly, “Well, she is a friendly little thing, I’ll give you that. And she looks half-starved.”
It hadn’t even been two days, but Vic was already going to miss the little cuddle machine like crazy.
Still, she considered Christmas’s appearance a gift.
Even if she wasn’t meant to be theirs permanently, at the very least, Vic now knew that she really did want a cat, and that Audra would benefit from one too.
So yes, the day that Vic had dreaded was more than okay so far.
The only disappointment—that she was trying to not let niggle at her too much—was that she’d texted Cal twice that morning and hadn’t heard anything back.
Which was fine. Of course. Of course! It was Christmas.
He was no doubt busy making holiday phone calls or had gotten a last-minute invite somewhere after telling her he had no plans.
And she’d been cheery in her texts, sure—but not so over the top that she’d have scared him off.
She didn’t think. Unless, maybe, he was second-guessing their date tomorrow.
A line from a graphic she’d downloaded recently, possibly the best tool she’d found so far for helping calm compulsive urges and anxiety, came to her. Things I can control: How I speak to and treat others. Things I can’t control: What other people think about me.
Vic inhaled deeply. Then exhaled in a gusty sigh.
I was happy and friendly. I did nothing wrong. I don’t need to be ashamed.
Devil, of course, piped up. Yeah, you keep telling yourself that—
I will. Thanks.
Her head went comfortably silent. Another Christmas miracle!
Audra went for a lie down, saying she needed a rest if Vic expected to eat a big fancy dinner and watch a movie’s worth of NCIS again tonight, which made Vic laugh inside her head because that was so clearly Audra’s hope for the evening.
When Audra was like this, it could almost make her believe she imagined Audra’s cruel, difficult side.
Almost. Why couldn’t she always be like this?
The idea of an afternoon rest was enticing though, so Vic followed Audra’s lead and tucked herself onto the couch. No sooner had she settled in than a little black streak leaped onto her lap and snuggled under her arm, against her side.
Vic’s heart raced with delight, but she tried to play it cool and to avoid any sudden movement or noise that might frighten Christmas off.
Slowly, slowly, she reached for Where Women Create, a gorgeous, inspiring magazine she’d gifted herself for Christmas.
She’d just flipped to the first page, planning to enjoy it cover to cover, when her phone buzzed.
She expected it to be a spam call. Once you gave any store your cell number, you were doomed, regardless of what day of the year it was. Instead, it was . . . She blinked.
Michael!
“Merry Christmas, Mom. I’m sorry I haven’t emailed you back. It’s been a crazy month, but I will soon.”
Vic clasped her phone in both hands and pressed it to her heart, then bowed her head, as if she was praying. Maybe she was? Tears pricked her eyes.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, she thought.
She sent a string of five hearts back as her reply.
Then, unable to resist the cuteness of Christmas or the pull to respond to even this tiny overture from her son, she snapped a photo of the tiny cat’s adorable pointy face with her cute-to-the-point-of-being-cartoonish crescent-shaped closed eyes and little kitty smile and sent that too.
She was rewarded with three exclamation marks. She smiled—then gaped at a follow-up text. “You got a cat! I can’t wait to meet her.”
Whaa—Vic sucked in a breath. Don’t hope too much. Don’t hope too much. Don’t hope too—
But it was too late. Did that mean Michael was coming for a visit after all? She closed her eyes. The excitement she felt, even though she knew she should fight it—at least until she got his email—was almost painful.
Her phone pinged again. Three texts in a row from Michael? Now she wondered if she should be worried about him. Ha, Universe. Just kidding!
But it wasn’t Michael. It was Cal—and he was clearly in overthinking mode exactly the way she had been earlier.
“Hey! Hi! Merry Christmas! I’m so sorry I didn’t respond to your texts right away. My battery was dead, or I would’ve. Anyway, yeah, sorry! MERRY CHRISTMAS!”
Vic smiled at his repeated wish and his use of all caps. She would try to remember his exuberance the next time she was worrying about being too effusive.
His next text read, “I’m really looking forward to tomorrow. I’m so glad neither of your texts were to cancel.”
And finally, the third: “That was a joke. Pretend I didn’t send it.”
Vic could hold her phone and read texts with her free hand, but Christmas had shifted to the crook of her arm, which would make texting back difficult. She could auto-dictate . . . or she could do what she really wanted to do and call him.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he said back.
She wondered if he was smiling into his phone as goofily as she was.
“How’s your Christmas so far?” she finally asked.
“Pretty good, actually,” he said, sounding surprised. “I followed your example and did a bit of decorating—and you know . . . not half bad. I mean, it’s also only half over, but so far so good.”
“I know what you mean. I was sure it was going to be terrible and decided just to accept that—and then it wasn’t. It’s been pretty great.” She told him that Michael had texted and promised to email her back.
“That’s fantastic, Vic. Utterly fantastic.” Cal sounded like he meant it, like he was listening and actually cared what she was saying. A woman could get addicted to that.
They talked about Christmas—the cat now, not the day—and he thought it was the perfect name too.
He seemed as surprised as she had been to hear how Audra had taken to the animal.
However, when she described how Christmas was curled up with her on the couch and how she slept on her bed, he grew a bit quiet.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
“It just sounds like Christmas might have an owner somewhere. Are you still planning to put her picture online?”
“Yes, for sure,” Vic said, though her heart panged a little. And she was going to. She was not going to borrow, take, or try to hold onto things that weren’t hers, ever again.
On the heels of that inner resolve, she immediately added, Please, let that be true. Please.
“Are you going to be okay if someone claims her?”
“Yeah,” Vic said softly. “I’ll be a little sad, but I’ll just see the days we had her as a gift.”
“Aw,” Cal said equally softly—and again, Vic didn’t get the feeling he was making fun of her or anything.
They chatted for a bit longer, and Vic considered inviting him over for dinner.
Maybe he was an NCIS fan too, but in the end she decided not to.
It was Christmas, after all, and she hadn’t talked it over with Audra ahead of time.
There were some decisions—like the cat—she would make on her own, but a surprise Christmas guest when Audra already had plans that she was excited about wouldn’t be nice.
“Okay, well, I should let you go,” Cal said, sounding as reluctant as Vic felt. What was it about their conversations she enjoyed so much? Even when they didn’t talk about anything serious or deep, they just felt so . . . companionable or something.
“Yeah,” she agreed, then added, “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. I’m really looking forward to it.”
“Me too.” The smile was definitely back on Cal’s face. Vic could hear it. Her insides got a little melty feeling. She felt young again—and for once in a good way.
“Till tomorrow then,” she said.
“Yeah, tomorrow . . .”
Laughing softly, Vic finally hung up because, man, one of them had to.