Free Black Cat and the Accidental Angel (Black Cat Mysteries Book 3) by Elaine Faber Page A

special connection. No! More than a connection. He loved her and thought she felt the same. Betrayed! Betrayed!
    The ache in his heart swelled. His stomach lurched, like when he had a hairball and couldn’t get it up. His body convulsed again and again, until with the last retch, up came breakfast. Nothing left inside now, but an empty stomach and a dark and foreboding sorrow. He felt lost in a deep fog with no way back. If a cat could cry, he would have drowned in his own tears.
    The rumble of the mama’s car forced him out of his lethargy and back to reality as she cruised down the driveway and turned left onto the country road. He was glad she was gone. She was a terrible woman. She thought John should send them to the pound! She even called them strays. The old witch! Strays? The word made his blood boil.
    He sat still, listening to the wind whistling through the pines, mentally probing the pain in his heart, pushing it from side to side. Like a sore tooth, thinking the next time you touch it, maybe it won’t hurt as much. Finding with each touch, the pain is still there, pulsing and throbbing, yet you’re unable to stop poking it with your tongue.
    Angel! The breeze whispered her name as it swished through the pines. Angel! A bird chirped her name from the treetop. Angel . Somewhere down the road, a chainsaw hummed, repeating her name over and over until the humming stopped and there was stillness.
    He sighed. So, Angel was in the family way. The question niggled at him again. Was he the father? Why would she conceal something as important as that? He hung his head.
    Angel! His insides were all squishy and cold and his heart felt like a block of ice in a 1920’s icebox.
    “Black Cat! Black Cat, oh, where are you?” Cindy called from the front porch. She sounded like she’d been crying.
    I don’t care. Black Cat hunkered behind the woodpile. He didn’t want to see anyone, not even Cindy. From now on, he was on his own. He tried to remember something about his past life. Something! Anything! He had to remember. How else could he go home?
    He squinted his eyes, thinking of what he remembered so far.
    A car and people screaming…
    A lovely lady and purple flowers over the porch…
    A little girl with brown bouncing curls and a daddy sitting on a patio…
    Wait! There was a lake and a motel next door and a barbecue!
    As he visualized the lawn between the house and the motel, he saw a man throwing a Frisbee to a dog with flowing golden hair. Boats tied up at the dock. Where was Angel? Why wasn’t she in any of the things he remembered? If he was the kittens’ father, he and Angel must have some history. After all, you don’t make kittens through the mail!
    Angel. Beautiful Angel with eyes the color of mustard and stripes the color of marigolds. The phrase echoed through his mind. … eyes the color of mustard …
    His heart surged with love. What was so bad about Angel having kittens, anyway? So what if he wasn’t their real father. Even if he was their step-father , wouldn’t that be okay? Five or six little Angels running around calling him Daddy Black Cat wouldn’t be so bad, would it?
    He was willing to forgive and forget. She’d wronged him, but he would be the bigger cat and welcome her back with open paws. She didn’t even need to apologize for lying—sort of lying. Maybe all females were like that, all persnickety and shy about private, personal things. Maybe she just wasn’t the sharing type. Deal with it.
    The warmth of forgiveness swept through his body and tender feelings toward Angel tickled his toes. How magnanimous and generous he would be, considering the extent of Angel’s indiscretion. He raced toward the house. He stood against the door and scratched. Meow! Wouldn’t Angel be thrilled that he had forgiven her? Let me in. I forgive you, Angel. I’m not mad anymore!
    Cindy opened the door, tears streaming down her face. “Where’s my daddy? I want my Daddy!”
    What’s going on?