Dr. Horatio vs. the Six-Toed Cat Page 3

  Tears stung Millie’s eyes. Not see her daughter get married? At the very idea, a dull pain thudded in her chest. “Of course we do,” she hurried to say. Albert opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a glance and then turned to Alison. “But Colombia?”

  “I know.” Alison shook her head. “It stinks. But Mom, I love him no matter where he’s from.”

  “How do you know?” Albert demanded. “You just met the guy. And unless I’m wrong, you haven’t spent much time getting to know him. You were in Florida, what, a week? And you haven’t gone anywhere since you got back. You can’t possibly know if you love him or not.”

  “We’ve e-mailed and texted constantly. I know everything about Nick, and he knows everything about me.” Her features settled into an ornery arrangement that looked very much like her father’s. “I’d like your approval, but even if you don’t approve, we’re getting married and that’s that.”

  They were both shouting now, and Millie’s stomach clenched into tense knots. She loved these two people deeply and fully, and knew they shared a stubborn streak strong enough to topple buildings. And volatile tempers to match. If this conversation continued, things would be said that shouldn’t, hurtful things that might cause permanent harm.

  She forced a peaceful tone. “Let’s all calm down.” Reaching out, she placed a hand on each of their arms. “We won’t solve anything by arguing.”

  “There’s nothing to solve.” At least Alison spoke at a reasonable volume, though with a hint of steel resolve. “Everything is decided.”

  “I understand that.” Millie squeezed Albert’s arm to impart both comfort and warning.

  Actually, she was a little concerned about him. His cheeks were purple, and a vein at his temple had swelled until she could see his pulse. No doubt his blood pressure had escalated through the roof. She squeezed again, and watched his efforts to regain control. When the alarming color faded a tad, she turned to their daughter.

  “Why don’t you tell us about Nicholas?”

  Gratitude flooded the girl’s face, and a smile stole across her lips. “Oh, Mom, he’s wonderful. Really incredible. The smartest man I’ve ever met. And funny too.” A girlish giggle heralded the return of the sparkle to her eyes. “He makes the wittiest comments.”

  This was more like it. Actually, watching Alison as she talked about Nicholas took the edge off of Millie’s tension. The girl positively radiated happiness. Her face glowed with an inner elation that Millie had never seen before. Maybe she really did love this man.

  “How old is he? And what does he look like?”

  “He’s twenty-two, exactly my age. Only a few days’ difference. And oh, he’s so handsome!” She folded her hands beneath her chin and shut her eyes. “His heritage shows. Black hair, dark complexion, eyes so dark you can get lost in them. And his lips…” Bliss settled over her features as she wilted against the chair back and heaved a deep sigh.

  Albert looked at Millie, eyebrows drawn together toward a pair of deep lines etched in his brow. After more than three decades of marriage, they could sometimes communicate without words. She read his thoughts as clearly as if he’d spoken them. What are you doing? Don’t encourage her. We need to stand together on this.

  Millie arched her eyebrows and lowered her chin slightly in return. Arguing won’t solve anything. We’ll discuss it later.

  She turned to their daughter. “When will we get to meet him?”

  Bright eyes opened. “Next weekend. He’s coming to town for the fall festival, and we’ll get our marriage license then.” Her gaze flickered toward her father. “Mostly he’s coming to meet you, of course.”

  Many times over the years Millie had been proud of Albert, but never more than now. Though she knew the effort it cost him, he managed to speak in a reasonably calm tone. “I look forward to talking with him. Does he speak English?”

  Alison cocked her head sideways and gave him a quizzical look. “What an odd question. Of course he does.” Then she giggled again. “Actually, his accent is so strong there were a couple of times I didn’t understand him. But it’s just so adorable.”

  Albert actually rolled his eyes, which Millie didn’t think their daughter noticed. Alison picked up her napkin and fork and resumed her dinner, oblivious to the fact that her parents were not eating.

  “We really weren’t planning on events moving so quickly, but then he received his assignment so we had to make some hasty decisions. It was only last week…”

  Millie let Alison’s chatter float over her, paying half attention to the details of a hastily planned civil wedding and hurried conversations during brief phone calls to discuss their plans to set up housekeeping on a foreign military base. She toyed with her food, pushing rice around her plate and digging a tunnel for gravy to flow through her mashed potatoes. Her appetite had disappeared.

  Millie feared it might never return.

  The ring of the telephone dragged Doc out of a deep sleep. Well, that and Lizzie’s hand slapping him repeatedly on the chest.

  “Wake up. It might be your mother.”

  Sleep made her voice low, almost gravelly, but certainly didn’t affect her strength. Chin stinging from a misplaced blow, Doc rolled away from his wife as he fumbled for the phone. Prying his eyes open, his sleep-numb brain registered the glaring red numbers on the clock. It must be Mother. Who else would have the nerve to call him at eleven forty-three at night?

  He remembered then that he’d forgotten to stop by her house after work.

  “’Lo?”

  “Doctor Forsythe?” Not Mother. Female, the voice high-pitched and tight.

  “Yes, this is Doc Forsythe. Who’s calling?”

  “It’s Pauline Kramer. I’m sorry to call so late, but this is an emergency.”

  Doc swung his feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. Kramer. Familiar name, but who—

  “It’s Rosie.” A choked sob. “It’s her time and—” Another sob. “There’s something wrong. Can you come, Doc? Please?”

  Now he had it. Rosie, beloved pet of Pauline Kramer, was due to give birth to a litter of kittens. A registered Siamese, this was Rosie’s third or fourth litter. Neither she nor her owner were amateurs when it came to labor and delivery. If Pauline said something was wrong, there must really be.

  Doc slid his feet into his slippers and stood. “I’ll come right over. Where do you live?”

  He scribbled the address on a notepad he kept on the nightstand without turning on the light. No sense disturbing Lizzie any more than necessary.

  When he emerged from the walk-in closet dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, he found her sitting in the center of the bed.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, voice heavy with sleep.

  “To help a momma deliver a litter of kittens, hopefully.” He leaned across the bed and planted a kiss on her lips. “Go back to sleep.”

  “’K. Love you, Doc.”

  She collapsed backward, drawing the comforter up to her chin in the same movement, and was breathing deeply before he left the bedroom.

  On the short drive to the Kramer house, Doc spared a fond thought for his slumbering wife. He’d known her since high school, loved her since college, and married her the day after graduating from veterinary school. It was she who gave him the nickname by which everyone except his mother called him. He even thought of himself as Doc.

  It took no effort at all to recall their first date, when she planted her hands on her hips, tilted her head, and batted those flirty eyes at him. “If I’m going to be your girlfriend, I need to find another name for you. Horatio is too stuffy. And I can’t very well shorten it, can I?”

  They’d both laughed at the idea, and had spent a pleasant evening bantering names back and forth. Finally she exclaimed, “You’ve got a cute nose and big eyes, but your ears are kind of long. You look a little like Bugs Bunny.”

  “I refuse to answer to Bugs,” he’d replied, wondering if he could steal a kiss before t
he night ended.

  “How about Doc?” She flashed an adorable grin. “That way when you call I can ask, ‘What’s up, Doc?’ ”

  The name had stuck, and spread. Before long everyone called him Doc. And with such a name, what else could he become except a doctor? Given his love for animals, his vocation had practically been decided for him. And he’d gotten a lifetime of kisses too.

  Every window blazed with light at the Kramer house. When he pulled into the driveway the front door flew open and an anxious Pauline stood behind the screen, arms folded and hands gripping her forearms.

  “Thank you for coming, Doc.”

  She let him in, closed the door behind him, and led him down a short hallway. From a landing above, two little girls in nightgowns peered anxiously through banisters.

  Pauline caught sight of them. “You two go on to bed, now, y’hear? You got school tomorrow and I don’t want you falling asleep in class. Doc’s here and he’ll take care of everything.”

  As he passed beneath them a childish voice asked, “Are the kitties gonna be okay?”

  Never lie about an animal’s condition, that was his motto. He aimed a smile upward and avoided a direct answer. “Don’t you worry. I’ll do my best.”

  He followed Pauline through the kitchen and into a small utility room.

  “I keep her bed in here on account of it’s near the hot water heater. In the wintertime it stays toasty warm. And the rest of the year on nice days I can open the back door and let a breeze blow through the screen.”

  Tonight the room felt hot and stuffy, though the temperature outside was mild enough to warrant opening the windows. Rosie’s bed, a round, overstuffed pet bed, had been lined with towels in preparation for the birth. It rested in a corner of the room next to a washer and dryer. Rosie herself lay inside. When Doc entered she raised her head, looked at him, and then nosed a trio of tiny kittens squirming at her side. The kittens had been cleaned, and Rosie, though obviously still in labor, didn’t appear to be in distress.

  Doc set his bag on the floor and knelt beside it. Extracting his stethoscope, he placed the rubber earpieces into his ears. “You’re doing a good job, Momma.” He spoke in a low, soothing tone. “I’m going to listen to your heart. Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt your babies.”

  Pressing the drum to her side, he glanced at his watch and counted. Two forty, which wasn’t bad considering she was still in labor. Respiratory rate of thirty. On the high side, but perfectly normal under the circumstances. With gentle fingers he probed her abdomen, counting five unborn fetuses before Rosie protested.

  He pulled the stethoscope from his ears and looked up at Pauline. “She looks fine. Healthy and strong. What made you think she was having problems?”

  “Not her. Them.” Pauline’s hands clutched at her arms, her fingers pressing into the skin. She dipped her head toward the kittens. “Look at them.”

  He looked. Three perfectly normal-looking newborn kittens. Ugly and alien-like, of course, as they all were until their fur had a chance to fluff up a bit. But nothing—

  Then he remembered.

  He picked up a kitten and cupped it in the palm of his hand. Rosie stood to stretch her neck and keep an eye on her baby, which sent the other two tumbling.

  “It’s okay, Momma. I’m not going to hurt your little one.”

  With a gentle finger he extended a tiny paw and peered closely. Yep. As he suspected. Six toes.

  A quick examination of the other two revealed one with only five toes, a completely white kitten that looked like a typical Siamese newborn. The two polydactyl kitties had orangish-yellow fur and hints of the telltale black lines of a common tabby.

  “What’s wrong with them, Doc?” Tears choked Pauline’s voice. “Rosie’s never had deformed kittens before.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with them.” Doc stood and looked down at the occupants of the cat bed. “They’re polydactyl, which simply means they have six toes. They’ll probably be perfectly healthy, normal cats.”

  “Normal?” Disbelief colored her features. “Look at them. They’re not normal. They’re not even Siamese.”

  “One is,” he pointed out. “My guess is multiple males fathered this litter.”

  “Impossible.” She shook her head. “I supervised the breeding myself. I always do. And the male’s bloodlines are clean. He’s fathered all of our litters and we’ve never seen a hint of…” She swallowed. “This.”

  “Does Rosie ever go outside?”

  “Never. She’s a pampered indoor cat. The only time she leaves this house is when we bring her to your clinic, and then she’s in a crate. She’s never even set a paw in the grass.”

  The scuff of a slipper against linoleum alerted them to a hesitant approach. “Mommy?”

  They turned to find one of the girls, dark hair tousled and eyes wide, standing in the doorway.

  “Lindy, I told you to go to bed. Don’t make me give you a consequence.”

  “But Mommy, Rosie did go outside.”

  Pauline’s arms unfolded and fell limply to her sides. “What? When?”

  Tears flooded the little girl’s eyes. “A while ago. It was right after the fourth of July, and you were at work and Daddy was asleep and I went to play with Melissa and I must not have closed the door all the way.” Her confession flowed as freely as the rivers of tears that cascaded down her cheeks.

  Pauline crossed the floor and put her arms around her daughter. “It’s okay, honey. I’m not angry. Just tell me what happened.”

  “When I came home and saw the screen door open and Rosie gone, I looked all over. I called and called but she never came.” The child’s chest heaved. “I thought she ran away and we’d never see her again. But then she came home.” She buried her face in her mother’s side. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want a consequence.”

  While Pauline comforted her child, Doc folded his stethoscope and returned it to his medical bag. One mystery solved. But the bigger question still remained unanswered. Where had this prolific polydactyl cat come from? Even more importantly, how was Doc going to find him? If he didn’t put a stop to this cat’s romantic escapades, the residents of Goose Creek would soon be up to their eyeballs in six-toed kittens.

  Chapter Three

  Before Millie opened her eyes in the morning, she felt Albert’s glare. As expected, they’d both spent a restless night. Her mind refused to release the gazillion worries that Alison’s startling announcement produced. Sleep had finally won out sometime after four o’clock.

  Albert, on the other hand, had carried his worries into his dreams. All night long he’d tossed and jerked and mumbled, to the point she almost wished she had forced him to take a dose of nighttime cold medicine before bed. Then at least he might have rested. Now both of them would be groggy-eyed today.

  She opened her eyes and, sure enough, found herself the object of her husband’s intense stare.

  “What if he’s a drug dealer?” Albert asked without preamble.

  Of all the thoughts that had plagued her throughout the night, that was a new one.

  “Don’t be silly.” She rolled over onto her side to face him, her head sinking into the fluffy pillow. “He’s in the army.”

  “Yes, but which army?” Suspicion colored his tone. “Colombia is full of drug cartels and terrorists. They send people to the United States to infiltrate and learn all our secrets. And what was this boy doing in Florida, anyway?”

  “Vacationing? Just like Alison?”

  “Or setting up drug deals. Do you know what comes out of Colombia, Millie?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Cocaine. His bosses probably sent him up here to scout out new customers. In fact, those cousins and uncles Alison mentioned? They’re probably all involved.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She rolled away from him and got out of bed. “If you’re concerned, ask Alison. I’m sure she’ll tell you all anything you want to know. She certainly loves talking about Nicholas.”

&
nbsp; “I think you should ask her.”

  She belted her housecoat around her waist. “Why me?”

  “Because every time I opened my mouth all evening she got defensive.” He plucked at the blanket, expression downcast. “She used to ask my opinion about everything. But since she returned from college she’s someone I don’t know.”

  “Our little girl’s growing up,” she said softly. “It happens.”

  “I know. I just thought it would be…different.” He looked so forlorn her heart hurt for him. “That’s why you should talk to her. If she really goes through with this ridiculous plan, I don’t want her last memory of me before she leaves to be negative.”

  Millie knew exactly what he meant. The Alison of last night, full of chatter and excitement about her young man and their plans, wasn’t the same young woman they’d packed off to Purdue. She wasn’t even the same person who’d left with her friends a week after graduation to go to Florida. This Alison felt like a stranger. A determined, stubborn stranger that Millie didn’t want to make cross. Maybe it was a desire to hold on to her baby, or maybe it was Millie’s deep need to avoid conflict in the family, but she found herself wanting to sidestep any conversation that may potentially destroy the fragile peace they had finally achieved at the end of supper. A peace that had come only when she and Albert stopped asking questions and kept their mouths shut.

  And yet, an uncomfortable question had circled in her restless thoughts all night to return over and over to the forefront. She rounded the bed and perched on the edge of the mattress beside Albert.

  “But isn’t it our job as parents to stop our children from making mistakes that could destroy their lives?”

  “Is it?” He scooted closer to her side and picked up her hand to entwine his fingers with hers. “Or is our job to train them to make their own decisions and live with the results?”

  She leaned her head sideways to rest on his shoulder. “Sometimes this parenting stuff is for the birds.”

  A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “If only it was that easy. Feed ’em a few worms, shove them out of the nest, and watch them fly away.”