Her life since she’d met Mrs. Brooks had been so different from her life on the streets. Not just because she had food to eat every day and lived in a warm house but because of caring for others and their needs. Life these days revolved around the children, not herself. What made the difference? Because Jesus lived in her heart or because He lived in Mrs. Brooks’s heart?
Or maybe a little bit of both?
* * *
As soon as the children were all in bed, Livy slipped back into the kitchen to check on Ginger. She turned the lamp up and left it on the kitchen table before easing the storeroom door open. Ginger popped out, a multicolored kitten in her mouth.
“Oh, my.” Livy didn’t get much of a look at the tiny creature as Ginger shot past her. The new mother made a beeline for her spot by the stove, where she placed her baby and nuzzled it with her nose. The kitten looked none the worse for having been carried around by the scruff of its neck.
“Ginger,” she whispered, pointing to the storeroom, “you’re supposed to be in there.”
The cat didn’t pay her any attention. What now? Should she move the mama cat and the kitten back into the storeroom? Maybe that would be best. She tried to pick Ginger up, but the cat squirmed away like a greased pig, settling next to her baby on the floor.
Livy rocked back on her heels. Okay. Think. Maybe if she took the kitten back, Ginger would follow. She scooped up the bundle of wet fur, marveling at its tiny perfection. Ginger jumped to her feet and followed, meowing. Pleased with her progress, Livy hurried to the storeroom and found another kitten on the bed of old clothes and blankets Mrs. Brooks had left on the floor. Ginger sniffed at the kitten, grabbed it, and trotted back toward the stove.
Livy sighed. So much for that.
She cradled the kitten, gazing into its pinched little face, the tiny pink nose with tufts of soft hair for ears. She fingered paws smaller than the tip of her pinkie. The kitten sneezed, and her heart turned over. Helpless didn’t begin to describe the tiny living thing.
Since Ginger seemed determined to make a home beside the stove, Livy took the kitten back to the kitchen. Then she put the blankets back where they’d been all along. Ginger nuzzled her babies, then stood and circled them. She stretched out on her side, and Livy watched her, pleased with the turn of events. The children would be so happy when they got up in the morning and found two kittens.
Ginger stood and made another circle. Livy frowned at the cat’s still-distended belly. Her heart started pounding. Ginger was not through having babies. She jumped up and turned away. What now? She closed her eyes.
Okay; do not panic. Ginger managed to have two babies just fine on her own. She’s capable of doing this.
She headed toward Mrs. Brooks’s room, then changed her mind. The elderly woman would be asleep already. It would be silly to wake her because Ginger might need help. She went back to the kitchen and peeked at the cat, relieved to find another kitten on the pallet. She pulled out a kitchen chair and cradled her head in her hands.
How long had Ginger been in labor? It had taken her almost four hours to have three tiny kittens. Were there more? Livy gently rubbed her hand over Ginger’s stomach. From the lumps and bumps, she felt sure there were. “How many babies you got in there, girl?”
An hour later, Ginger delivered another kitten. Livy had never dreamed it would take this long or that Ginger would have so many.
By one o’clock in the morning, five little bundles of fur nestled close to Ginger. Livy had all but worn a hole in the kitchen floor. She wasn’t sure, but she thought Ginger might be done having babies now.
Livy cradled the firstborn kitten against her cheek, marveling at the miracle of birth she’d witnessed. She’d had never been so proud, even if Ginger was only a cat.
* * *
Jake scowled at the paperwork on his desk. If there was one thing he hated about being a deputy, it was the mountain of wanted posters and letters asking if they’d seen so-and-so. He picked up a letter from a Mrs. Goldstein, looking for her son who’d fought with his father and