The Year the Cat Saved Christmas - a novella by Barbara Bretton Page B
Authors: Barbara Bretton
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come out and rescue him. An apology would be nice but he
wouldn't insist.
He waited patiently, watching as tables and
chairs and beds and tables disappeared into the big truck parked in
the driveway. It seemed a very strange thing to do and he was
pondering the mystery when he suddenly remembered the last time
something just like this had happened to him.
The Boy and Girl had been babies then, too
little to do anything but sleep and eat and cry. Sebastian would
have suggested they leave the babies behind but his people had a
strange fondness for the little roundheads, a fondness Sebastian
learned to share only after they were out of diapers. In his
opinion, litter boxes made a great deal more sense.
He remembered that summer as if it were
yesterday. All of their furniture had disappeared into a truck that
time, too, only back then there hadn't been quite as much of it,
and most of what they had boasted claw marks.
"Don't look so sad, Sebastian," the Woman had
said, chucking him under the chin. "You'll love the new house!"
"Wait until you see the backyard, old boy,"
the Man had said with a laugh. "Slower birds and plumper mice and
lots of shady places to take a nap."
Was that the last time they'd all been happy?
The Man worked harder than ever and was home less and less. She
worked harder too, sitting alone at the computer late at night
while the Boy and Girl slept. Sebastian never saw them curled up
side by side on the sofa or dancing in the kitchen or heard them
laughing together in their room late at night.
The moving men bellowed something behind him.
Sebastian scampered down the icy stairs and darted under the porch,
just in time to avoid being flattened by work boots and the big
couch from the den. Snow brushed against his belly and made him
shiver. He hated the cold almost as much as he hated the
three-cans-for-a-dollar cat food his people sometimes foisted on
him. At his age he should be curled up in front of a roaring
fireplace with a platter of sliced veal and gravy, claiming his
rightful place in the family.
Wasn't it bad enough that the Man didn't live
with them anymore or that sometimes she cried herself to sleep when
she thought no one could hear her? Now they wouldn't even have a
home and everyone knew you couldn't be a family if you didn't have
a place where you could be together.
The cottage on Burnt Sugar Hill.
For days Sebastian had felt the pull of the
old place until the need to see that old house again was almost
irresistible. And now he finally thought he knew why: the secret to
being a family was hidden within its four walls and somehow
Sebastian had to lead his people back home before it was too
late.
Chapter One
Jill Whittaker crouched down and fastened the
top snap on her daughter's bright red down jacket. "There," she
said, sitting back on her heels and smiling. "Now you look
perfect."
Six-year-old Tori beamed at her mother. "I
know."
Jill laughed and turned to Tori's twin
brother Michael. She tugged at the Christmas green scarf around his
neck. "And you look perfect too."
Michael's dark brows knit together over the
bridge of his straight nose and for a moment Jill thought her heart
would break. He was a miniature version of his father, with the
same blue eyes and serious nature.
"Boys don't look perfect," Michael said,
casting a curious glance toward his sister. "Only babies care about
that."
Tori punched him in the arm. He grabbed for
her knit cap. Tori was about to retaliate with a swift kick learned
at karate class but Jill intervened.
"It's Christmas Eve," she said in her most
sternly maternal tone of voice. "If you don't behave, Santa might
think twice about coming to visit."
The twins were instantly chastened. Jill
breathed a sigh of relief but that relief was short-lived.
"How can Santa visit if we don't live here
anymore," Tori pointed out.
Michael nodded vigorously. "How will he know
we're at Aunt Patsy's."
"What if Santa can't find us?" Tori went on,
her small
wouldn't insist.
He waited patiently, watching as tables and
chairs and beds and tables disappeared into the big truck parked in
the driveway. It seemed a very strange thing to do and he was
pondering the mystery when he suddenly remembered the last time
something just like this had happened to him.
The Boy and Girl had been babies then, too
little to do anything but sleep and eat and cry. Sebastian would
have suggested they leave the babies behind but his people had a
strange fondness for the little roundheads, a fondness Sebastian
learned to share only after they were out of diapers. In his
opinion, litter boxes made a great deal more sense.
He remembered that summer as if it were
yesterday. All of their furniture had disappeared into a truck that
time, too, only back then there hadn't been quite as much of it,
and most of what they had boasted claw marks.
"Don't look so sad, Sebastian," the Woman had
said, chucking him under the chin. "You'll love the new house!"
"Wait until you see the backyard, old boy,"
the Man had said with a laugh. "Slower birds and plumper mice and
lots of shady places to take a nap."
Was that the last time they'd all been happy?
The Man worked harder than ever and was home less and less. She
worked harder too, sitting alone at the computer late at night
while the Boy and Girl slept. Sebastian never saw them curled up
side by side on the sofa or dancing in the kitchen or heard them
laughing together in their room late at night.
The moving men bellowed something behind him.
Sebastian scampered down the icy stairs and darted under the porch,
just in time to avoid being flattened by work boots and the big
couch from the den. Snow brushed against his belly and made him
shiver. He hated the cold almost as much as he hated the
three-cans-for-a-dollar cat food his people sometimes foisted on
him. At his age he should be curled up in front of a roaring
fireplace with a platter of sliced veal and gravy, claiming his
rightful place in the family.
Wasn't it bad enough that the Man didn't live
with them anymore or that sometimes she cried herself to sleep when
she thought no one could hear her? Now they wouldn't even have a
home and everyone knew you couldn't be a family if you didn't have
a place where you could be together.
The cottage on Burnt Sugar Hill.
For days Sebastian had felt the pull of the
old place until the need to see that old house again was almost
irresistible. And now he finally thought he knew why: the secret to
being a family was hidden within its four walls and somehow
Sebastian had to lead his people back home before it was too
late.
Chapter One
Jill Whittaker crouched down and fastened the
top snap on her daughter's bright red down jacket. "There," she
said, sitting back on her heels and smiling. "Now you look
perfect."
Six-year-old Tori beamed at her mother. "I
know."
Jill laughed and turned to Tori's twin
brother Michael. She tugged at the Christmas green scarf around his
neck. "And you look perfect too."
Michael's dark brows knit together over the
bridge of his straight nose and for a moment Jill thought her heart
would break. He was a miniature version of his father, with the
same blue eyes and serious nature.
"Boys don't look perfect," Michael said,
casting a curious glance toward his sister. "Only babies care about
that."
Tori punched him in the arm. He grabbed for
her knit cap. Tori was about to retaliate with a swift kick learned
at karate class but Jill intervened.
"It's Christmas Eve," she said in her most
sternly maternal tone of voice. "If you don't behave, Santa might
think twice about coming to visit."
The twins were instantly chastened. Jill
breathed a sigh of relief but that relief was short-lived.
"How can Santa visit if we don't live here
anymore," Tori pointed out.
Michael nodded vigorously. "How will he know
we're at Aunt Patsy's."
"What if Santa can't find us?" Tori went on,
her small
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