Page 39 of A Little Christmas Wish

“Yeah. She twisted her ankle, but otherwise she’s fine. And she’s got a visitor she’s bringing with her.”

“A visitor? What kind?”

“The feline kind,” he replied. “She found a kitten.”

“Oh. Oh! Okay, I’ll warn Bandit and see what I can set up. Ink? She’s really all right?”

He hated the way her voice wobbled.

“She is, baby. I promise. I’m bringing her home. She’s worried about you.”

“She is?”

“Yep. Can you call the twins while I call off everyone else?”

“Of course. I’ll do that. Oh, Ink. Thank God or Santa, I’m not sure which.” She ended the call before he could ask her what the heck that meant.

Perhaps he was better off not knowing.

Betsy was waiting anxiouslyin the living room as Ink carried Zippy inside. She looked exhausted and she had a small gray kitten clasped against her chest, sleeping.

Betsy had done the best she could with what she had on hand to set up some things for the kitten. And she’d put Bandit in Baron’s room in the meantime. Baron wouldn’t mind, Bandit usually slept with him or Royal when they were home.

“Oh, Zippy! Are you all right?” she asked, hovering as Ink set Zippy down on the sofa and started to draw off the little girl’s jacket. “I was so worried about you. I’ve made you hot cocoa. And grilled cheese.”

“Good thinking, Brown eyes,” Ink praised while Zippy remained quiet.

Why wasn’t she talking? Was she upset?

“Do you want a hot cocoa?” Betsy asked.

Zippy shook her head as Ink drew off her shoes to look at her foot.

“Oh. Okay. What about ice for her foot?” she asked Ink.

“I don’t think it looks too bad. Can you move it, Zippy?” Ink asked.

Zippy wriggled it, wincing. “It’s not too bad.”

“Maybe an ice pack, Brown eyes,” Ink told her. “And I’ll take one of those hot cocoas.”

“A-all right. I’ll get that. Yep, I’m onto it.” She rushed into the kitchen and poured a hot cocoa, putting mounds of whipped cream on top.

Then she grabbed one of her ice packs from the freezer. They had images of elephants on them. She moved carefully back into the living area, not wanting to spill the hot cocoa.

“Why don’t you want a hot cocoa, Zippy?” Ink asked quietly. “Do you not like them?”

Betsy paused, waiting to hear Zippy’s reply.

“Of course I do! I love Betsy’s hot cocoas. She makes the best.”

She did? It was nice that Zippy thought that.

“Then why don’t you want one, kid?” Ink asked quietly.

“Because I don’t deserve it.”

Betsy nearly gasped at the sadness in Zippy’s voice. Why would she think that?

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