Free The Year the Cat Saved Christmas - a novella by Barbara Bretton Page B

project. You're a brilliant, passionate
architect and you're being wasted--"
    "Damn it, Jill, don't you get it? It was
either go to San Francisco or leave the firm."
    She didn't even blink. "Then you should have
turned and walked out the door the minute they gave you that
ultimatum."
    Deadbeats did things like that. Sons of
bitches who walked out on their families and let their son bounce
from foster home to foster home. The way his father had done to
him.
    "You and the kids are my responsibility."
    "Why don't you let me be your partner rather
than just your responsibility."
    "You've always been my partner," he said as
the truth of her words pounded inside his brain. "You gave up a lot
for me, Jilly and I owe you."
    "You owe me." Her voice was soft, ineffably
sad. He wondered if it was finally too late. "If that's what you
think our marriage was about, then there really isn't any hope for
us."
    She turned and started to walk away and he
knew that if he let her go, nothing else that happened in his life
would matter a damn.
    "Jilly."
    She hesitated.
    "You could have had an easier life with
someone else."
    "Maybe," she admitted, "but I couldn't have
had a happier one."
    He reached for her hand. She entwined her
fingers with his. There was still a chance.
    There had to be.
    "Tell me you want to go to San Francisco,"
she whispered. "Tell me that I'm wrong, that this project is
important to you. Tell me that this job in San Francisco will make
you happy and I'll get the kids and follow you."
    The truth was staring him in the face and he
couldn't avoid it any longer. "You're right about the job," he
said. "It's a lousy project and I'd be a pawn of the Japanese
consortium, but if I want to stay on with the company, this is part
of the deal."
    "And you call me stubborn." The faintest
beginnings of a smile flickered at the corners of her mouth. "We're
supposed to be a team, you fool. We were a team when you got that
first big promotion. We were a team when I quit my job to write my
book. We were a team all those years when it seemed like we'd never
have a baby. Why should this be any different?"
    "You went through hell to have the twins," he
said, remembering. "The doctors, the surgeries--"
    "And you worked around the clock to make it
possible. We did it together the same way we can do this. The same
way we can do anything we put our minds and hearts to."
     
     
    #
     
     
    He doesn't hear you, Jill. He doesn't
understand . Her heart sank. David was looking right through her
as if she wasn't even there. She pulled her hand away. "David," she
snapped, "the least you can do is pay attention." This was their
future she was talking about. Their children's future.
    "Look," he said, pointing. "It's
Sebastian!"
    "Oh my God!" A fluffy cat with huge
muttonchops and a bushy striped tail stood on the top of the hill,
looking down on them.
    Sebastian didn't so much as blink as they
slowly made their way up the snowy hill to where he stood. When
they were within ten feet of him, he turned and bolted, running
faster than he'd run in years, straight through the open front door
of the cottage.
    Same shutters, same window boxes, same aura
of love and magic. It looked exactly the same as always.
    David and Jill exchanged glances.
    "There are a lot of memories in that
cottage," she said.
    "I know," he said, reaching for her hand.
"But I can take it if you can."
    They crossed the threshold and the years
seemed to fall away.
    "I can almost see us," Jill whispered, "the
way we used to be."
    David nodded. "By the window, where we used
to watch the sun rise."
    "Oh, Davey," she said. "We look so
young."
    "We look so happy."
    "We were happy."
    "We didn't have a pot to pee in."
    "We had everything we needed." She drew in a
deep breath. "We had each other."
    "I love you, Jilly." He gently drew her into
his arms. "Everything I've ever done in life, I've done for
you."
    "I know," she said. "I was afraid you'd
forgotten."
    "Never. When you asked for the divorce,