Chapter Fifteen

Eve

Miss Snowflake rubs against my leg as I stand at the sink, washing the final pan from breakfast before I head to work. It’s the Saturday before Christmas, just two days away from the big holiday. John went off to work after I made cinnamon pancakes with peppermint pieces in the shape of Santa’s head, and even though we have plans to hang out later tonight and enjoy the final weekend of the festival, I admit, I miss him.

My feelings for him have continued to grow to the point I’m certain I’m in love with him once more. These last few weeks, getting to know the man he’s become, have only cemented it. He’s still the sweet, caring, and strong young man I first fell in love with in high school, but now he’s so much more. He’s everything I didn’t realize I was waiting for.

I glance down as she nuzzles her nose against my leg and curls around my slippered foot.

I turn off the water and crouch down, rubbing her head. “You sure have been awfully affectionate these last few days,” I tell my cat, having noticed her need to snuggle with me more now than ever before.

She rolls onto her back and as I start to pet her belly, my hand pauses. Her nipples are dark and swollen, and a bubble of fear rises in my chest. Miss Snowflake has always been in picture-perfect health, but now that I think of it, lately, she’s been very tired. She’s eating well, but she naps more often, and I’ve even cleaned up cat puke—gross, by the way—off the floor by her food bowl. Now, looking at her nipples, I start to worry something’s wrong.

She meows a loud cry before turning her head and vomiting on my floor, just missing my slipper.

“Oh! No!” I scoop her up and scurry toward the laundry room. I find her cat carrier in the closet and carefully set her inside. I grab a towel and place it over the top before shoving my feet into my boots and grabbing my coat and purse. I don’t even worry about gloves and my hat at this point, just anxious to get to the vet’s office to find out what’s wrong with my cat.

Once inside my car, securing the cat carrier into one of the back seats, I press the first button on my dash and wait for the call to connect.

“Hello, my beautiful daughter.”

“Hey, I’m on my way to Dr. Boldman’s office. Miss Snowflake isn’t acting right and is throwing up,” I tell my mom.

“Oh, no.”

“Can you call my first client? It’s Fran Henderson. See if she can reschedule.”

“Absolutely. Keep me posted. I can call your entire morning’s worth of clients and reschedule if needed.”

“I will. Thanks, Mom.” Backing out of my driveway, I head in the direction of the closest veterinary office, which is at the edge of town. It’s positioned right next to the cemetery and Methodist church and only takes a few minutes for me to get there.

Dr. Boldman doesn’t usually take walk-ins, unless it’s an emergency. Since it’s before eight when I arrive, the lot is empty, except for the Ford F-150 I know is the good doc’s near the back door. After parking, I carefully retrieve the cat carrier and walk on the freshly shoveled sidewalk to the front entrance. Finding the door locked, I knock insistently and loudly until Dr. Boldman comes into view.

“Eve,” she says the moment she releases the lock and opens the door.

“I’m so sorry to come before you’re open, but Miss Snowflake isn’t well. She’s been super tired lately and vomiting.”

The doctor steps back and allows me to enter. “Hmm, let’s take her into the exam room. First door on the right.”

She follows me inside, slipping on a pair of gloves the moment she enters the room. I gingerly pull Miss Snowflake from the carrier, grateful she didn’t throw up inside, and hold her to my chest. She’s purring and cuddling into my embrace, just the way she always does.

“Go ahead and place her on the exam table,” Dr. Boldman says, starting to examine my cat. She feels around her neck, chest, and abdomen. “Nipples are extended, abdomen slightly swollen,” she adds, the faintest smile on her lips.

I’m about to ask her what could possibly be funny at a time like this when she turns around and grabs a few cat treats from the jar, setting them on the table in front of my kitty. Miss Snowflake immediately starts chowing down on the little treats. “That won’t hurt her?” I ask, running my hand over her back as I do my best to keep her in place.

“No, it should be fine,” she states, grabbing a small machine on a wheeled cart. “Let’s take a little look at Missy.”

I watch as the vet runs a wand over Miss Snowflake’s belly. The cat meows loudly, letting us know she’s not happy to be forced into a lying position while she’s examined.

“Does Miss Snowflake have a boyfriend?”

That question gives me pause, and before I can answer, Dr. Boldman points to a small screen. “See there? It appears Miss Snowflake is going to be a mommy.”

“A…what?!” I bellow, watching the movement on the screen.

She chuckles. “I take it this wasn’t a planned pregnancy.”

A big, fat cat pops into my head as my mouth falls open. “Uhh, no. It wasn’t.” I take a deep, calming breath. “The neighbor’s cat. He snuck in and…well, you can guess the rest.”

Doc chuckles. “Everything looks good here, Eve. I’m guessing you can expect five kittens at the end of January or first of February,” she informs me, turning off the machine and placing a few more little pieces of treats on the table.

I rub my forehead. “I can’t believe this.”

We spend the next few minutes going over care for Snowflake as she prepares to become a mom, including nutrition, hydration, nesting, and post-delivery care. “I’m just a phone call away,” Dr. Boldman says as we exit the small room, Snowflake back inside her carrier. “Don’t be nervous. Cat births are actually much smoother and easier than humans. Complications aren’t nearly as common but can arise. Take my card,” she states, stopping by the front desk and grabbing the card. “My cell is on the back. Call if you need me.”

I take a deep breath. “Thank you, Dr. Boldman.”

She places a friendly hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got this, Eve.”

“Thanks,” I grumble, heading for the door. “Oh, how much do I owe you?”

She waves off my question and offers a smile. “Nothing today. All I did was take a quick peek and confirm my suspicions.” She leans down, getting closer to the carrier in my hand. “You behave, Snowflake. Leave that tomcat next door alone.”

My mind flashes to John, and the fact I’ve been practically running next door lately for the exact same reason.

After saying our goodbyes, I place the cat in my car and head for home. On my way, I press the call button on my steering wheel and wait for it to connect. “Hey, honey. Is everything okay with Miss Snowflake?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ll explain when I get there. I should make it in before my next appointment.”

“Okay, sounds good. Drive careful.”

“See you in a few,” I reply before disconnecting the call.

On autopilot, I return to my house and let my cat out of the carrier. I take a minute to clean up the cat puke from earlier, which, unfortunately, has already started to get hard, and make sure she has plenty of food and water and that her litter box is clean. Then, I return to my car to drive to work. I rarely drive, but since my car is already out and warm, I decide to just take my vehicle.

I park around back and enter the salon’s rear entrance. The sounds of water running and a blow-dryer greet me, as does the soulful vocals of Frank Sinatra belting out a Christmas tune. I hang my coat and change out of my boots in the back, grateful to have left a pair of good walking shoes here. Finally, I make my way up to the main part of the salon.

“There she is,” Mom says, scrubbing a head of hair with shampoo.

“Morning,” I greet, still a little shocked by this morning’s revelation.

“Joy brought over breakfast and a latte for you, since you’re running behind,” she says, nodding toward the small round table in the middle of the room.

Even though I’ve already had breakfast, I still grab a donut from the box and start shoveling it into my mouth. “I’ll tell her thank you,” I mumble, bringing the still-warm cup to my lips and sipping. “She’s an angel.”

Mom smiles and starts rinsing the shampoo out of her client’s head. As soon as she wraps Mabel Johnson’s head in a towel, she turns her attention to me. “Well? What’s going on?”

I exhale loudly as Roxie turns off her hair dryer and waves. I return the gesture and say, “Miss Snowflake is going to be a mommy.”

My mom seems shocked. “What? How?”

I close my eyes for a brief moment and answer, “John.”

There’s a collective gasp heard around the room. “John got your cat pregnant?!” Roxie bellows, a look of horror written all over her face.

“What? No!” I reply, realizing my mistake. “John’s cat got Miss Snowflake pregnant.”

“Oh. Okay. Good,” Roxie states, relaxing with a hand over her chest.

“Yeah, no kidding. I was a little worried for a second,” Mom says as she starts to comb Mabel’s hair.

“Sorry,” I mutter, taking another sip of my latte. “John’s cat, Biggie, has been using Miss Snowflake as a late-night booty call. Now, he’s gonna be a dad at the end of January or first of February.”

“Aww, that’s so cute. You two are cat grandparents!” Roxie sings, clapping her hands before reaching for her straight iron.

I nod, turning my attention to my station and preparing for my next client. I have a short day, since it’s Saturday, and I try not to work past one or two. “Was Fran okay with rescheduling?” I ask.

“Yes, but she was really hoping to get in today, since she’s singing in the church Christmas Eve program tomorrow night,” Mom replies, working on her client’s hair.

I walk over to the book and check my schedule. My last client is supposed to be at two today. It’s just a cut and style, so I suppose it won’t be too bad to add Fran back in after that. I reach for the salon phone and dial her number. After confirming she can come in today at three, I hang up and get to work. It’s definitely going to be a busy day.

But at least I have tonight to look forward to.

John gets off work at five, and then we’re going to have dinner at the diner and watch the movie in the park. They’re showing Elf tonight at seven in the pavilion, and we have plans to snuggle up under a few big blankets and watch the Christmas comedy classic together.

My stomach churns as I think about Miss Snowflake and the fact she’s going to have kittens. What do I do once they arrive? Despite joking about being an old maid cat lady, I had no intention of actually keeping a bunch of cats. I guess that’s a bridge I’ll cross when I need to.

The bell over the door chimes as my next client arrives. Time to get to work. Everything else will have to wait until later.

When I get home, I grab the mail in my box and slip inside. I’m greeted by the scent of evergreen and citrus. After slipping off my coat and boots, I go in search of Miss Snowflake, finding her resting peacefully in the center of my bed. When I run my hand down the curve of her back, she stretches, exposing her underside. I take in the changes of my cat, now that I know she’s expecting. Her abdomen is slightly swollen and firm, her nipples hard and pink.

“I can’t believe that mean ol’ Biggie cat got you pregnant,” I coo at my feline friend. “Some males only want one thing.”

My mind filters right past John, since he has never been one I’d consider a tomcat. Now, Andrew on the other hand, is the first one I think of when I picture a manwhore. He cheated on me with his older receptionist, and even though he wasn’t planning to leave me for her, he didn’t care about me enough to not cheat in the first place.

What a dog.

I return to my kitchen and start opening the mail. There are a few greeting cards, as well as my updated electric bill. When I get to the next envelope, I stop in my tracks when I see the letter on official letterhead from one of the major hospital systems in Denver. It’s a job offer, and I quickly realize, it’s not addressed to me.

I flip over the envelope, noticing the change of address label with John’s name on it and instantly feeling guilty for opening someone else’s mail, but instead of refolding the letter and returning it to the envelope it came in, I start to read it. My hands shake as I learn John applied for a position at the hospital, and despite the fact they haven’t interviewed him yet, they are offering him a full-time position.

In Denver.

Three hours away.

My stomach drops with realization. That’s way too far for a daily commute. That means John would have to move.

He’s not staying in Snowflake Falls.

He’s leaving.

I read and then reread the entire letter again, my eyes filling with tears. I can’t believe it. Just when I open myself up to love again, the door is being slammed closed in my face. The tears start to fall, sliding unchecked down my cheeks. I swipe angrily at them, angry at them for falling and angry at him for changing his mind. Not that I can blame him for bettering himself, but did he have to lie about staying, for giving me hope and then dashing it away?

The betrayal cuts deep.

It’s a reminder of the last man I loved and trusted.

He betrayed me too.

I pick up my phone, knowing John will be off work soon. My stomach churns as I pull up my texting app. My fingers fly across the screen, desperately seeking a little space and time to process.

Me: Not feeling well. Need to cancel tonight.

I’m surprised his response comes so quickly.

John: I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. What can I bring you? Soup? Ginger ale? Crackers?

Me: Nothing, thanks. Going to bed. Talk to you tomorrow.

I tap my screen and power off my phone. Rarely do I go to such extremes, but tonight, I just want to be alone. To wallow in my misery and broken heart.

Locking my front door, I head straight to my bedroom. I find my favorite Christmas lounge pants, a fluffy pair of snowman socks, and an oversized sweatshirt that’s probably been around since the Reagan administration. Okay, not that long, but I’ve had it since high school.

It was one of John’s favorite sweatshirts.

Once I’m dressed in comfortable clothes, I flip on the small television on my dresser. I rarely watch TV in here but could definitely use the distracting background noise. Curling into my extra pillow at my side, I snuggle into the comfort and warmth and just breathe. I close my eyes, desperate to find some solace from the barrage of worry and uncertainty filling my mind.

Miss Snowflake jumps up on my bed and lays beside my head. Reaching up, I run my hand over her soft fur. The contact instantly soothes the ache in my soul.

“Hey, girl. Looks like we’re going to be doing this alone soon. You as a new mama, and me, well, I’ll be nursing a broken heart.” I sniffle and rub my nose into the fur at her back. “Just you and me against the world once more.”

We lie together, and even though I truly have no idea what a cat is thinking, I swear she understands my distress. Heck, she probably feels it too. She’s going to give birth in a little over a month and won’t have that big, stupid tomcat next door by her side.

Love’s a bitch.

Apparently, I am destined to be that crazy cat lady.

Perhaps I’ll just keep Snowflake’s kittens and get started now. Cats may show love on their own terms, but at least I’ll have lots of affection and cat snuggles to fill my nights.

Maybe then I won’t miss John so much.

Yeah, fat chance of that happening.