Promises to Keep, Nan Rossiter [feel good fiction books .txt] 📗

of his beer, trying not to laugh at his own memory. “We did. My brother named her after Mike Mulligan—you know . . . from the book?”

Maeve laughed. “I know the book, but how come he didn’t name her after Mary Anne? She was the real hero of the story.”

Gage chuckled at her observation. “I guess because we boys always considered Mike to be the hero—growing up around tractors, we wanted to be Mike Mulligan.”

“Gotcha,” Maeve teased.

“Anyway, do you want to hear the story?” he asked, feigning dismay at being interrupted.

“I do,” she assured him, eager to hear any tidbit from his childhood.

“So, when Mike showed up on our doorstep, she was pregnant. Cale and I were little . . . probably no older than five—if he was four, I would’ve been three—we were very close in age, and our mom decided it would be neat for us to see Mike give birth to her kittens so she put a towel-lined box on the porch, hoping, when her time came, she would use it and we would get to watch. Sure enough, early one summer morning, our mom woke us up, and we hurried downstairs in our pajamas, knelt down on the porch near the box, and watched Mike squeeze out five little squirmy, wet babies . . . well, actually, only four were squirming . . . one was completely still, and no matter how much nudging and cleaning Mike gave it, it wouldn’t move. Finally, my mom scooped it out and started to carry it toward the barn to give to our dad, but Mike would have none of it. She hopped out of the box and trotted after my mom to see where she was going.”

“That’s so sad,” Maeve said, her heart aching for the little cat.

Gage nodded. “It was sad, but it doesn’t end there. My mom was, of course, able to get Mike back to the box, and even though she looked sad, she was a good mama and continued to care for her other kittens. Later that evening, when my dad came in from haying, we were still out on the porch, entranced by the kittens. We noticed our dad talking to our mom. He had something in his hands, and a few moments later, he walked over and set a baby bunny in the box.”

“No way!” Maeve said in surprise. “What did Mike do?”

“She sniffed it, pulled it in close, and started to clean it.”

“Did she let it nurse?”

“She did, and that little bunny grew up right alongside those kittens—we think the bunny thought she was a cat. Cale named her Moon because there’s a bunny in Goodnight Moon . . . and we had her for five or six years.”

“That’s amazing,” Maeve said, shaking her head. “Where did your dad find her?”

“He never told us, but as we got older, we knew—because we learned that bunnies sometimes made their dens in the fields—that something probably happened to the mama and other babies.”

“That is such a great—albeit sad—story,” Maeve said softly. “Mike must’ve been a wonderful cat.”

Gage nodded. “Mike was the sweetest cat. She lived to be around seventeen—which is pretty old for a barn cat. My mom had a soft spot in her heart for her and she used to let her in the house. The rest of our cats were all true barn cats—they stayed outside.”

Maeve nodded. “You should get a cat.”

“I’ve thought about it—I could use a good mouser, but I’m not sure what Gus would do.”

Maeve gently nudged the lanky Lab at her feet with her toe, and Gus looked up. “You’d love a little kitten, wouldn’t you, you big moose?” Gus thumped his tail happily, and they laughed.

Gage took a sip of his beer and looked over. “Gus would love it if you lived here, too.”

Maeve smiled—it was a conversation they’d had before, and even though there was nothing she’d love more than waking up next to Gage every morning, she felt as if they still had some things to work out before they made such a big commitment.

“If you think about it,” he pressed, “either you’re staying here, or I’m staying at your place, so it’s almost like we’re living together.”

“Almost,” she agreed. She wanted to say more—she wanted to finally tell him about the foolish mistake she’d made in college and the heartbreaking decision she’d had to make afterward—it was all right there on the tip of her tongue, but she was afraid he would think less of her; she was afraid she might lose him.

Gage—who’d gotten up to look at the setting sun—didn’t see the sadness in her eyes, so when he turned back and leaned against the railing, he only smiled. “I love you, Maeve . . . and I’d love to come home to you every night.”

Now it was Maeve’s turn to look away. She looked at the river, tears stinging her eyes. “I love you, too, Gage. I love you more than life itself.” She paused, searching for the right words, “but I feel like there’re still things we haven’t talked about—things standing between us. I mean why don’t you ever talk about your fam . . .” But before she could finish, he was pulling her up and gently putting his finger over her lips.

“There’s just you and me, Maeve,” he said. “Nothing else matters. There’s nothing standing between us.” As he said this, Gus pushed his head between them and Gage laughed. “Except this silly dog.”

Maeve couldn’t help but laugh, too. Gus had been the icebreaker when they first met and it seemed like his silly antics would always take the seriousness out of serious moments.

“I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you,” Gage said solemnly. “Come live with me,” he whispered.

Maeve closed her eyes, trying to shut down the storm of thoughts swirling in her head. The words she wanted to say were right there—the words she’d rehearsed a million times. Her explanation, her excuses, her heartache . . . if she could only let them spill out, and then, come hell or high water, pray it wouldn’t matter—if she only