The children had survived the Christmas Night Meltdown valiantly. For several days they were quiet and introspective and Ruby had stopped shouting altogether (and Julia found, knowing the reason behind it, she now missed it). But they were beginning to pull out of it having had a great time with Sam’s family. Indeed, Julia had a queer sense that Ruby’s breakdown had allowed them all to settle more thoroughly into their new lives and begin to truly come to terms with their loss and start healing.
Right then, they seemed to be lit up with happiness and expectation.
“What’s up?” Julia asked, unable to stop a grin from spreading across her face at their jubilation. Ruby scrambled forward and grabbed Julia’s hand, giving it a hearty tug. Their excitement was catching and she let out a little laugh. “What’s happening?” she inquired again.
“Just come with us,” Lizzie ordered bossily, grabbing Julia’s other hand and pulling more strongly.
They led Julia to the leather couches of the entryway where Douglas and Willie were standing around the furniture. A fire blazed in the grate and Willie was looking down at something on the floor while Douglas watched Julia approach, his eyes roaming over her appreciatively (as he seemed inclined to do more often than not).
“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Julia blurted, deciding it best to ignore Douglas. If she didn’t, she knew her palms would sweat or her knees would buckle or her stomach would do somersaults or, in her weakest moments, all three.
“Look!” Ruby pointed at a strange, plastic box with a handle on top and lots of holes all around.
The kind of box in which you carried a small animal.
Looking at the box, Julia felt her palms start to sweat, her knees begin to get weak and her stomach prepared to do somersaults.
“Look, look, look!” Ruby cried, no longer able to contain herself.
She sprinted forward then dropped to her knees and she fidgeted with the box but Julia already knew.
She knew.
She remembered, somewhat hazily, but she remembered muttering to Douglas the morning after their first night together.
Therefore, she knew.
Then Ruby had her prize and turned around, cuddling a fluffy, perfectly white, beautiful, squash-nosed, incredibly adorable Persian kitty in her arms.
“Unka Douglas bought them for you!” Ruby squealed.
Julia’s eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t help herself; she couldn’t have controlled her reaction if she was SuperGirl. She missed her own cat and had never been without an animal for this long in her life. It was better than an emerald (which was pretty fantastic), it was better than a diamond watch (which was absolutely tremendous), it was the best present she’d ever received.
With one quick step forward, she reached out her hands and Ruby easily gave up the kitten to Julia who practically snatched it out of her niece’s arms.
She didn’t notice Ruby whirl back around as she pulled the kitten up to her face and rubbed it against her cheek.
She turned glistening eyes to Douglas.
She didn’t know what to say.
More kittens were produced, two more to be exact.
“Uncle Douglas got one for each of us girls,” Lizzie declared cheerfully but Julia only had eyes for Douglas who, for his part, was watching her back with a look of tenderness (albeit a somewhat smug tenderness).
“I’m getting a dog,” Willie declared at this point.
Julia opened her mouth and then closed it. She opened it again and then, again, closed it. She brought the kitten down to snuggle him on her chest and shook her head as if to clear it.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Lizzie demanded, eyeing Julia incredulously.
Julia was speechless.
“Sometimes,” Willie put in, his words and tone far more mature than they should have been, “there’s nothing to say.”
* * * * *
The kittens caused havoc in the household, nearly making Ronnie fall down the stairs and giving Mrs. K fits as they scratched at every available surface (including undoubtedly priceless silk rugs). The children ran around playing with them and chasing them, which caused the once silent-as-a-tomb Sommersgate House to ring with happy noise.