Silver Christmas

by Helen Scott Taylor

  "Don't worry. I was already awake. Come here, boy." Jennifer sat up and stroked the eager Labrador as he rested his head on the embroidered comforter, his tail wagging.

  Chloe followed her dog in and stood a few steps from the bed in thick winter pajamas decorated with a pattern of puppies. "He likes you," she said.

  Jennifer smiled. "I expect he's the good-natured sort of Lab who likes everybody. I've met some Labs who were working dogs and not really pets, but mostly they really do fulfill the definition of man's best friend. They're one of my favorite dog breeds."

  "Do you want to see the drawings I've done of Paddy? They're in my bedroom."

  Jennifer slipped her legs out of bed and stood, smoothing down her short yellow nightgown, wishing she had a robe. The clothing she'd brought home from Africa was not right for a British winter. She needed to take a shopping trip.

  She pulled on a light sweater. "Just give me a moment and I'll come to your room." Jennifer hurried to the bathroom and washed her face to wake herself up properly, and then went and tapped on Chloe's half-open bedroom door.

  "Here they are." Chloe pointed at a corkboard on the wall over her chest of drawers covered in pencil and crayon drawings of black Labradors. They were pretty good considering Chloe's age. There were some photographs as well of a black Labrador mother with a litter of puppies and Chloe holding Paddy when he was small.

  "Ah, he was sweet. Looks like he was the biggest in the litter."

  "His mum was Midnight, Auntie Shelly's dog."

  "I remember Shelly." The words were out before Jennifer had time to think. It was going to be difficult to talk with Chloe about what had happened ten years ago.

  "Before I was born?" Chloe asked, her eyes alight with wary curiosity. "When you dated Dad?"

  "Yes." Jennifer sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly chilly in her unsuitable nightwear. She wrapped her arms around herself, and Chloe sat beside her with Paddy at her feet, staring up at her adoringly.

  "I wish I'd never left you." Until that moment, Jennifer didn't know she would say those words, didn't know that was how she really felt. Now understanding flooded through her, bringing tears to her eyes. "If I knew then what I know now, I would never have gone away."

  Instinctively she reached for her daughter, and the girl's thin arms came around her. She rested her cheek on Chloe's sweet-smelling shiny hair, closed her eyes, and held tight, relishing the unfamiliar feel of this skinny girl in her arms as she rocked her.

  They held each other for a long time, until Owen's footsteps sounded in the corridor. Then Jennifer eased back to see tears wetting Chloe's lashes.

  "I'm sorry." The apology was pathetically inadequate.

  "It's all right, Mum. I know you were looking after sick animals, and that's very important."

  The sound of the word mum on her daughter's lips sent Jennifer reeling back through the years to the many times she'd heard it whispered in her dreams, and the desolate moments in the still of the night when she'd fought back the savage pangs of her starved maternal instinct.

  "What I do is important, Chloe. But nothing is so important that I should have left you. I was wrong to do that, and from now on I'll always be there for you."

  Chloe hugged her again, and Jennifer felt the girl's tears wet her shoulder. Owen appeared in the open doorway, staring at them, his expression unreadable.

  She had to make peace with him. She'd blamed him for what had happened because it made her feel better, but she had to take responsibility for her own decision. Although he must accept his part in what happened as well.

  For Chloe's sake, they needed to be friends.

  • • •

  Owen returned the business calls he had to make from the estate office, and rose from his chair as his dairy manager called his name from the outer office.

  "The guys from the grocery chain are here," Ned said as Owen walked through to join him.

  "Okay, this'll be interesting. I think they need us more than we need them. We should be able to negotiate a good profit margin." The market for quality goats' cheese had exploded recently, and the supermarkets couldn't get enough of it.

  Owen strode into the yard and extended a hand to the party of two men and a woman who were climbing out of a car. Once they'd introduced themselves, he showed them the goat shed where the mated does were housed, and the separate enclosure for the male goats, all the while giving the group the history of the Rosemoor Dairy goat herd and their company principles of being totally organic and sustainable, sourcing everything from the local area.

  Yet even as he talked and answered questions, a tiny part of his mind was back in the farmhouse with Jennifer. She'd been here three days now, and had spent most of the time on her laptop or phone searching for a new job. It didn't sound as though she was short of offers. She had the two zoo positions in the bag if she wanted one of them—good for her, but both were too far away for his liking.

  He wanted her close. If he were honest with himself, he wanted her here, at Rosemoor Farm with Chloe and him. He tried to kid himself he was only thinking of what was best for his daughter, but he knew that wasn't the whole truth. It annoyed him, but Jennifer still attracted him as she had since the day he first set eyes on her.

  Owen walked the visitors across the yard, turning up his coat collar against the bitter winter wind whistling through the bare tree branches and cracks in the farm buildings. At the entrance of the dairy, he waited while they put on disposable white coveralls. He hung around while Ned explained how the goats' milk was piped directly from the dairy to the cheese-making facility next door, so there was minimum risk of contamination.

  As Ned opened the door to the huge old Jacobean barn to reveal the state-of-the-art stainless steel room inside that housed the clean area, he smiled at the visitors' gasps.

  "It's like a magic trick," one of them said. "Old on the outside and high-tech inside."

  Owen laughed along with them, enjoying their surprise as he always did when people first saw the Rosemoor Dairy cheese production area. It had been his idea to put it inside the old barn, so they didn't have a modern building spoiling the look of the farm.

  After the door closed behind the visitors, Owen turned, knowing he should return to the estate office to deal with the pile of work on his desk, but he really wanted to go back to the farmhouse and see Jennifer. As he hesitated, one of the dairy hands walked over.

  "Mr. Bramwell, a cat has made a nest in the hay store. I need to shift some bales with the tractor, but I don't want to disturb it. Looks like it's about to have kittens."

  Owen welcomed the diversion, knowing the prospect of kittens would thrill Chloe. She adored all animals, especially baby ones, and long may that last. He dreaded the day she switched her attention to teenage boys. They were bad news. He'd been one and could speak from experience.

  He followed the lad across the yard to the open-fronted barn where they kept the large round bales, and crouched to peer in a gap. Snuggled in the warm, dry nook was a tabby cat with an unmistakable swollen belly.

  He was fairly sure he hadn't seen this cat before, so goodness knows where it had come from. "We need to move you, girl, or you're going to get squashed."

  Owen knew just the place for her. Grabbing one of the old towels they used for the goats, he laid it on the hay-strewn cement floor. He pushed his arm into the gap between the bales, wincing as teeth and claws dug into his hand while he tried to ease the cat out.

  "Ow! Come on, Miss Scratchy, I'm trying to help you."

  When he finally extracted the uncooperative tabby from her hideout, he wrapped her in the towel and picked her up, careful of her bulging belly. He strode towards the farmhouse, eager to put her down and stop being a pincushion.

  "Come and open my back door for me, would you?" he called over his shoulder to the young dairy hand.

  The lad did as he asked, and Owen toed off his dirty shoes in the hallway before walking through the kitchen in his socks. Jennifer was sitting at
the kitchen table in front of the stove, swamped in one of his thick cable-knit sweaters, staring at her laptop screen with a pen held above a pad of paper.

  She rose as he entered, her eyes wide. "Is the cat injured?"

  "No. Pregnant."

  "Ah. We need somewhere warm and enclosed to put her."

  "I was thinking of the linen closet in my parents' old bathroom. Chloe and I don't use the room much since it only contains a bathtub and we both prefer showers."

  "Do you have a box and old pet bedding we can use?" Jennifer said, eyebrows raised in question.

  "Dog towels in a heap in the cupboard in the mudroom, and there should be a cardboard box from the organic veg company on the washing machine."

  While Jennifer dashed to the mudroom, Owen went upstairs to the bathroom, pushed open the door, and headed for the linen closet. The hot water tank inside kept the small closet toasty, even in the winter. Jennifer caught up with him and set the cardboard box on the floor of the closet, and placed folded towels topped with a sheepskin pad inside for their feline visitor.

  Owen crouched and carefully deposited the cat on her bed. He half expected her to bolt, but she circled and scratched at the sheepskin, yowling.

  Jennifer knelt at the cat's side and ran her hand over the creature, talking softly as she felt her belly. "It's all right, girl. You'll be fine."

  Owen leaned a hand on the door frame and watched, transported back to the first time he saw Jennifer when she was an intern for the local vet, and they came to check over a horse his father was about to sell.

  When she'd stepped out of the vet's pickup, Owen had been mesmerized by the sway of her body as she walked, and the way her golden hair slid over her shoulders. He'd always had an eye for a pretty girl, but Jennifer had knocked his socks off.

  His gaze drifted from the cat to Jennifer kneeling beside it, her wrist and hand pale and delicate within the thick knit of the oversized sleeve of the sweater he'd loaned her. He vividly remembered the feel of those slim fingers in his, the first time he'd reached for her hand, unsure if she would pull away, and his sense of triumph when she didn't.

  He wanted to touch her now, to rest his hand on her shoulder near the short blond hair that curled on her neck.

  Owen closed his eyes and rubbed his face. He needed to get a grip and be realistic. Jennifer had come back for Chloe, not for him. Ten years ago, she'd made it perfectly clear she didn't love him and didn't want to be with him. She'd even abandoned her baby so she didn't have to marry him.

  Chapter Five

  Jennifer rose to her feet and tried to step back. Owen was so close behind her she should have felt her personal space invaded, yet she didn't.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the darkly shadowed curve of his jaw, and his strong hand braced against the door frame. Memories she'd thought forgotten flooded back, the touch of his hand on her face, the feel of his arms around her, drawing her back against his chest.

  Looking down, she concentrated on the pregnant cat, trying to push memories of Owen from her mind. She didn't want to have feelings for him; it complicated things and made her vulnerable. When Owen turned on the charm, he was a master at getting what he wanted—as she knew to her cost.

  Her teenage pledge to focus on her studies and not let boys distract her until she'd qualified as a vet was forgotten when she met Owen. She'd nearly lost herself in their passionate relationship, nearly lost sight of her dreams. Being close to Owen clouded her judgment. Because of that, she'd had to make the terrible choice between her career and her baby—and had made the wrong choice.

  "Excuse me." Her sharp tone got an immediate result. He stepped back quickly, looking confused as if he didn't know what he'd done to annoy her.

  "Is there a problem?"

  "Not right now. I want to go get my medical bag from the car just in case, though," she said, purposely misunderstanding him.

  Jennifer hurried out into the cool air, drawing in deep breaths to calm herself as she grabbed the bag from the backseat of her car. When she went back inside, Owen had put the kettle on to make a pot of tea.

  He'd certainly changed in the last ten years, becoming very domesticated. She wasn't sure he'd even known how to make a cup of tea ten years ago. Now he could cook dinner. He'd made them a tuna casserole yesterday evening, and it had tasted pretty good.

  Being a dad was the making of the man, it seemed. After only a few days here, she had no doubt he adored his daughter. He'd given up the fast life. It was plain to see his world revolved around Chloe. This made her even more certain that no way would she ever take Chloe away from her dad.

  "Does the mama cat belong to you?" she asked him.

  "No, Mama Cat's a stranger." He glanced over his shoulder, a half smile on his lips.

  Her heart dipped and dived as more memories cascaded back. Now that she'd opened the floodgates, she couldn't stop them. "She's in very good condition, definitely someone's much-loved pet."

  "We can take a photo of her and put up some flyers in the village. I expect Chloe would like to do that."

  "I'm glad it's Saturday tomorrow. I forecast Mama Cat will give birth tonight or tomorrow. It'll be a good experience for Chloe to watch."

  Owen laughed. "My guess is wild horses wouldn't drag her away. She'll be camped out in the bathroom as soon as she gets home from school."

  Jennifer watched Owen pour the tea and add two spoonfuls of sugar to his cup. He glanced her way, the faintest hint of uncertainty in his eyes. That was new—Owen unsure of himself. Loving Chloe made him vulnerable, and it touched Jennifer's heart.

  She rounded the table and took one of his hands between hers. "I don't want you to worry that I'll try to take Chloe away from you. I'd never do that, Owen. I can tell you're a wonderful dad. I wouldn't want to damage your relationship with Chloe or hurt either of you."

  Everything seemed to still as she gazed up into his face, into the deep, rich brown of his eyes, and a wave of sorrow for what might have been crashed through her.

  The sound of a car and people's voices outside broke the spell, then Owen's arms came around her and drew her close against his chest. She sank against his warmth, remembering the feel of him as if he'd held her only yesterday.

  "Thank you, Jenn." His voice was full of relief and pitched low, close to her ear, the sound a caress to her senses.

  For just this once, she allowed herself to relax and take comfort. She let go of the fear and pain of the nightmarish months following her shooting, pretending she was safe and loved, the way she might have been if she'd stayed.

  • • •

  Owen couldn't stop smiling as he picked Chloe up from school. She gazed at him quizzically as she climbed in the car.

  "What's happened, Dad?"

  Your mum isn't going to try to take you away from me, he thought, yet that wasn't a topic he wanted to trouble Chloe with. Instead he said something he knew would bring a smile to his daughter's face.

  "We have a cat at home about to give birth to kittens."

  "A cat? You're joking, right?" Chloe stared at him as if trying to see into his thoughts, her expression slowly morphing to a huge grin. "You're not joking."

  She let out an eardrum-deadening squeal and bounced in her seat. "How come we suddenly have a pregnant cat?"

  "We found her in the barn. We'll have to locate her owners and give her back, so don't grow too attached to her, okay?"

  "But we can keep some kittens, right? Please?"

  "One kitten."

  Chloe pouted, but it was obvious her heart wasn't in it and her grin was soon back. As they pulled up outside the back door at Rosemoor Farm, she was out of the vehicle the second it stopped moving, crashing through the back door to greet an excited Paddy.

  Owen shook his head affectionately as he followed her, picking up her scattered shoes, kicked off in the entrance hall.

  By the time he reached the bathroom upstairs, Chloe was kneeling on a cushion by the cat's makeshift bed, with Jennifer at he
r side.

  "Mum says she'll probably have them tonight," Chloe said.

  The word mum rocked Owen like an earth tremor every time his daughter said it. Even though he'd always referred to Jennifer as mum when they spoke of her, it had been an intellectual concept. To hear the name on his daughter's lips, said so matter-of-factly, made him feel as though he'd fallen into an alternate reality, one he'd longed for.

  "No sleep for us tonight then?" he quipped.

  "I'm going to put on my pajamas and lay a pillow and sleeping bag on the floor here so I can watch."

  Owen caught Jennifer's gaze, and they shared a mutual smile at the accuracy of his prediction about Chloe's behavior.

  "Mama Cat needs to be left alone quietly for a while. Come on, love." Jennifer took Chloe's arm and stood. "She has her nice snug box to give birth in, and plenty of food and water and a litter box out here well away from where the kittens will be. So she's all set. We'll give her some space now and check her again after dinner."

  They rushed through their meal, Chloe hardly able to sit still, her gaze constantly going to the hall door, while all she could talk about was kittens and what she would call hers.

  "You do realize the kittens will belong to the owner of the cat," Owen said. "Whoever it is might want to keep them all."

  "Don't be silly, Dad. Nobody keeps a whole litter of kittens. They'll let me keep one."

  Owen chuckled. His daughter could not be deterred. Anyway, she was probably right.

  As they returned to the bathroom half an hour later, Jennifer rested a hand on Chloe's shoulder. "You must stay quiet and calm when we check Mama Cat again."

  Chloe nodded, almost trembling with excitement.

  "Right. Let me go first," Jennifer said.

  Owen followed the girls and shut the bathroom door firmly to keep out Paddy, who was furiously sniffing around. The bathroom was quiet. Jennifer put a finger to her lips and knelt by the makeshift cat bed to run her hand over the animal's belly.

  "Mama Cat is in labor," she said softly. "I'll sit here quietly and keep an eye on things. If anything happens, I'll call you."