Not what she wanted to hear.
“Then what am I supposed to do with it? I have to be at the Shabos’ by seven.” Despite her attempt to remain calm, a thread of panic wove through her voice.
She did not want this kitten in her life. If she tended to it night and day, she could get attached—and that was against all her rules.
Logan must have sensed her panic, because when he spoke, his tone was calm and soothing. No doubt the same one he used with freaked-out patients.
“We’ll work it out.” He carefully lifted the tiny bundle from her arm. “You get ready for the Shabos and I’ll warm this little guy up and see what resources I can find for abandoned critters.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Molly will help me. Right, sweetie?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why don’t you stop by after your lesson with the Shabos and we’ll regroup? Thomma’s coming back again too to work with Toby on the electric fence. That will give the two of us a quiet few minutes to come up with a plan for this kitty.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
He grinned. “Just returning the favor.”
Jeannette removed her tote bag from across Molly’s chest. “I should be back by eight-fifteen.”
“Don’t rush. We’ll be here all evening. Come on, sweetie. Let’s go feed Toby.”
The dog’s ears perked up, and he began straining at the leash.
“Bye, ’Nette.”
“Bye, honey.” She gave the girl a hug, and bent low to whisper in her ear. “Thank you again for the heart.”
“Maybe we could go back to the beach and look for more pretty pieces of wood.”
Not a promise she was willing to make, despite the girl’s hopeful expression.
Babysitting for her neighbor in an emergency was one thing.
Regular involvement with the duo next door was another.
“Mrs. Shabo will be staying with you from now on.”
And there would be no reason in the future for her to interact much with her charming neighbors.
Which was perfect.
Except if that was true, why was there a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach as she watched Logan take Molly’s hand and lead her down the long hedge on the left, then disappear around the edge?
She should be glad they were gone.
Yet that tiny twinge deep inside felt like . . . yearning. Like a part of her wished she belonged to the family next door.
Bad news.
She turned her back and escaped to the peaceful, solitary haven she’d created, where there would be no new loss or grief.
And if this burgeoning feeling of loneliness was the price she had to pay to protect her sanctuary?
So be it.
Because it was better to be lonely than risk another broken heart.
17
“They’re here!”
At Molly’s excited announcement, Logan took the last plate from the dishwasher, slid it into the cabinet, and joined her in the small foyer.
Thomma’s Sentra was pulling up his driveway, but there was no sign of his neighbor’s car.
“Did you see Jeannette?”
“Yes. She drove behind the big bushes.” Molly turned away from her post beside the front door. “Is she coming over?”
“In a few minutes.” After spending all day in her company, his niece had been more talkative than usual at dinner—and much of her conversation had been about ’Nette.
“Can me and Elisa go see her tomorrow?”
“She has to work, sweetie.”
“She worked today too. I helped her. We won’t get in the way. Please? I like being there.”
“I know—but today was special. It was an emergency. Tomorrow Mrs. Shabo will be back, and her foot will be hurting. She can’t walk very far.”
“Well . . . when can I see her again?”
He was saved by a knock on the back door.
“We’ll talk about it later.” He retraced his steps to the kitchen.
She followed along behind him, stopping at the table to peer into the box where the sleeping kitty lay nestled in a soft towel.
Logan handed Toby off to Thomma as the doorbell rang.
“That’s ’Nette!” Molly zipped back to the front of the house.
Logan joined her as she twisted the knob.
“Come on in.” He smiled at his neighbor and pulled the door wide. “How did the lesson go?”
“Great. They’re all progressing at a remarkable pace.” She entered and lowered herself to Molly’s level. “How’s the kitty?”
“We got him some milk, but he doesn’t like it.”
“That’s strange. I thought all kittens liked milk.” Jeannette stood and shifted her attention to him. “What’s the status?”
“We made a fast run for some supplies while you were gone.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why do we need supplies?”
“Let’s talk in the kitchen while I try to coax him to take some formula.”
Without giving her a chance to reply, he ushered her toward the back of the house.
She waited beside the table while he tested the temperature of the formula he’d been heating in a pot of water, watching as he positioned the kitten on its stomach inside the blanket, tipped up the bottom of the bottle, and gently rubbed the nipple back and forth across tiny cat’s lips and gums.
The kitty was having none of it, even though he had to be hungry.
“Why won’t he eat?” Jeannette frowned.
“You’ve got me. Want to try?” He held out the bottle.
After a moment, she took it, picked up the towel-swaddled bundle, and sat in a chair with the kitten on her lap. As she mimicked Logan’s actions with the nipple, she spoke in soothing tones and stroked her fingers over the feline’s exposed head.
Half a minute in, the cat latched onto the nipple and began to suck.
“He’s eating!” Molly hopped from one foot to the other.
“I bow to your bedside manner.” Logan grinned at Jeannette.
“Don’t be too hasty. I think hunger finally won out. So what’s the story on all the supplies?” She motioned toward the counter, where another bottle, several nipples, and the box of formula were lined up.
Logan pulled out the chair beside her and sat. “My earlier suspicions were correct. No organization wants to take a cat this young.”
Dismay darted through her eyes. “So what are we supposed to do?”
“Find someone to take care of him—or do it ourselves.”
She exhaled. “That won’t work with your schedule.”
“No—and I don’t know anyone in town well enough to ask them to tackle a job like this. Based on the markers I found online, this little guy’s about three weeks old. That means he’ll have to be bottle-fed every four to five hours for another week or two, at which point he can start eating canned food. He won’t be ready for adoption for five to seven weeks.”
“Wow.”
“That was my reaction too. Do you know any cat lovers who might be willing to step in?”
“No.”
That didn’t surprise him.
Jeannette may have been in town longer than him, but odds were he’d soon know more people than his reclusive neighbor did.