Holding Melanie close, he shut his eyes.
A DISTANT vibration brought Melanie out of a satisfying dream. She opened sleepy eyes to find she was lying with her cheek on Forde’s hairy chest and with her body snuggled into his side like a little animal burying itself into the source of its comfort, his heartbeat still echoing in her head. She didn’t let herself think for a few moments, relishing the feel and smell of him and the fact that he was here, with her. The baby moved, the flutterings the strongest yet, as though it knew its father was close.
And then she smiled to herself at such fanciful imaginings.
She raised her head carefully to look at Tabitha, aware she and Forde must have slept for an hour or more, but the cat was still sound asleep. The vet had said the best medicine for her was food and rest; if only they could make sure she had a few days of both before she delivered her kittens they might all make it, along with their mother. Please, please, God, let this be a happy ending, she prayed silently. I want a happy ending for once. She’s only a little cat—don’t take her before her life has really begun. And the kittens, let them live to grow and play and feel the sun on their fur in the summer. Please.
Forde had said Tabitha knew she could trust them to look after her, that she needed someone to love her unconditionally. She knew now why his words had struck such a chord in her. It was how Forde was with her; from the day they had met he had put her needs before his, in the bedroom and out of it, and his love had been unlimited and without reservation.
She drew in a shuddering breath, her mind clearer than it had been for months.
After Matthew had died her guilt and remorse had turned her mind and heart inwards. She’d been so wrapped up in her own culpability and self-condemnation, so convinced she was a jinx and that Forde would be better off without her, that she hadn’t considered she might be wrong. She’d been too self-centred. Wrapped up in her own grief, she hadn’t taken on board he was suffering too, not really, not as she should have. She had learnt a lot about herself over the last weeks with Miriam, and some of it had been hard to take.
But Forde didn’t see her as she saw herself. He loved her. Utterly. Absolutely. As he’d told her to love Tabitha—unconditionally. When she had left him he had told her he would never let her go, that she could divorce him, flee to the other side of the world, refuse to see or talk to him, but he would never give up trying to make her see sense and come back to him. It had panicked her then, terrified her even. But now …
She raised her head and stared at his sleeping face.
Now she was humbly and eternally grateful. Her hand went to the swell of her belly wherein their child lay. And she could never walk away from her baby and its father. How could she have considered such a possibility even for a moment? But deep inside she’d always known she wouldn’t have the strength to give her baby up. That had been what had really frightened her once she’d known she was pregnant, because then she had still believed she was a curse on those she loved.
And now? a little voice outside herself asked insistently. What did she believe now? Because if she went back to Forde it had to be with all her body, soul and spirit. She’d asked for a happy ending for Tabitha but she had to believe in one for herself. Believe she could trust Forde implicitly, give him that little part of herself she had always kept back. Could she do that?
She heard a scratching sound and raised her head again. Tabitha was awake and turning round and round in the basket and Melanie could have sworn there was a faintly worried expression on the cat’s delicate face. Tabitha gave a little cry that was more of a yowl than a miaow, and then jumped out of the basket and disappeared behind the other sofa.
Oh, no. Melanie sat bolt upright and in so doing woke Forde, who mumbled dazedly, ‘What the… Nell?’
‘I think Tabitha’s going to have her kittens.’ Even to herself her voice sounded thick with fear. ‘It’s too soon, Forde. I wanted her to have some days of good food and rest. What are we going to do?’
Forde sat up, swinging his feet onto the carpet and raking back his hair. ‘Where is she?’ he asked, eyeing the empty basket.
‘Behind the other sofa. The vet said she might hide.’
He stood up naked as the day he was born and walked across the room, peering over the back of the sofa. Damn it, Nell was right. The cat was behaving exactly as the vet had warned it might. They had all been hoping they could have a few days of feeding her up but it looked as if time had run out.
He turned, gathering up Melanie’s scattered clothes along with his own. ‘We can do very little now except keep an eye on her. The rest is up to Tabitha. I’ll move the basket behind the sofa if that’s where she wants to be. Get dressed and go and make us a hot drink. This could take a while.’
‘It’s too soon,’ Melanie said again, her old fears and doubts resurfacing in a flood.
Forde reached out a hand and stroked her cheek for a moment. ‘Stop panicking. Tabitha will pick up on it. Animals are incredibly sensitive that way. Bring some warm milk and food in for her when you get our drinks, OK? Now get dressed, there’s a good girl.’
Once in the kitchen Melanie realised the icy sleet had turned into snow while she and Forde had been sleeping and already it was a couple of inches thick. The swirling flakes were fat and feathery and the sky was laden. If the storm continued in its present form she doubted if the vet would be able to get through to them if they needed her.
She stood for a moment, eyes wide and her top lip clamped in her teeth before telling herself to get on with what she had to do. Tabitha would be all right. Anything else wasn’t an option. And the kittens would be fine too. They had to be.
Tabitha drank the milk they slid in to her in her hiding place but wouldn’t touch the food, and as the yowls increased in volume Melanie had to force herself to sit still and not pace the room. Forde went out to fetch more logs and coal at one point and when he returned, Melanie said simply, ‘I know,’ in answer to the look on his face regarding the weather.
Forde had resorted to lying on the floor and peering under the sofa by the time the first kitten was born some three hours later. Tabitha had ignored the basket at the side of her but she dealt expertly with the tiny thing, biting off the birth sac and beginning to lick it all over with her abrasive tongue. When Forde saw it squirm he experienced a profound relief, more for Melanie than the cat.
Another kitten was born fairly quickly, and as they watched Tabitha begin the same procedure with this one as she had with the first Melanie whispered, ‘Look at that, Forde. She’s going to be a brilliant mother. And the kittens are alive and well.’
He looked at her where she lay at the side of him on the carpet. He’d been about to warn her that it was early days yet, that a hundred and one things could go wrong. There were more kittens to be born and they might not be as lucky as the first two, and Tabitha herself might be too exhausted to survive much more of this. But then he looked into her deep brown eyes and something in them checked his words. Instead he put his hand on hers.
There followed a wait that seemed endless to Melanie and Forde. They hardly dared move from their vigil but then a third kitten made its appearance and once again Tabitha went into action. This time, though, once the kitten was cleaned up to its mother’s satisfaction, Tabitha picked up the tiny creature and jumped into the laundry basket where she deposited the squirming little scrap before fetching the other two, one by one, to the place she deemed as safe. She then made short work of the food and fresh milk Forde had slid under the sofa next to the basket and joined her kittens after using the litter tray.
‘Do you think that’s it? There were just the three?’ Melanie found she had a crick in her neck