Page 80 of Ghostlighted
Avi chuckled. “From what you’ve told me about him, his love language was receiving gifts. Let me guess—when you didn’t measure up, he punished you by keeping his distance, right?”
I narrowed my eyes. “How did you know?”
“Because, Maz, your love language is physical touch. Whenever you’re upset, the first thing you do is reach for Gil.” He waggled a finger at me. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed the look on your face when you remember you can’t pat my shoulder.”
“I… have a look?”
“You absolutely have a look. The worst thing Greg could do to you was withhold touch.” He jerked his chin at Ricky. “So I thought Ricky should know how you express affection.”
I goggled at him. “That’s why he took my hand?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I suspect that was a service he was completely happy to provide. He— Oh!” Avi’s eyes widened and his gaze snapped to the bottom of the yard where the seasonal stream burbled among the rocks. “I think… Yes!”
The cattails along the bank rustled and suddenly Gil emerged.
“Gil!” I started to race toward him, but slowed when I noticed he was carrying something in his mouth. “Crap. Is that a rat? Because we didn’t have any in the house, he decided to go searching for one?”
“Not a rat, Maz. Look closer.”
By that time, Gil was about ten feet away. He uttered a muffledmrrowand dropped his burden.
Which moved.
I jumped backward. “Augh!” But then I heard it. A tinymew. “You’ve got to be kidding me? Akitten?”
I crept forward and knelt in the grass. Sure enough, it was a tiny tortoiseshell fluff ball. Not a newborn. Probably at least five or six weeks old because its ears had already migrated to thetop of its head and its—her, most likely, since most torties were female—eyes had already begun to morph from newborn blue to gold.
I held out my hand, and rather than flinching away from it or hissing, she hopped over and rubbed against my fingers. I scooped her up, and she began to purr immediately. “She’s clearly not feral.”
“No.” Avi ran a finger down her spine, and just like with Gil, her fur reacted to him, lifting in his finger’s wake. “The edge of town is a prime dump site for people trying to get rid of unwanted animals. I expect that’s what happened to her. It may also be why Gil’s been trying so desperately to get out of the house the last couple of days. He probably heard her.”
“Good job, buddy.” I peered at the kitten’s face. Her eyes were clear. She didn’t seem to be too undernourished or flea-ridden. “You deserve a—” A burst of panic drove through my middle. “Where did he go?”
Avi jerked a thumb at the ginger tail disappearing into the cattails again. “I don’t think he’s done.”
Sure enough, a moment later, Gil returned with another kitten, this one a black-and-white tuxedo. After he dropped this one at my feet, he sat down and shot out one hind leg, settling in to give himself a bath.
“NowI think he’s done,” Avi said dryly.
“Maz?” Sofia called from the porch, the first time I’d heard her speak since she came home from the hospital. “What do you have there?”
I glared down at Gil. “Don’t you dare move.” I scooped up the other kitten and turned toward the porch. “Gil found a couple of orphans.”
“Oh, pobrecitos. Let me see them.” Sofia rose from her chair. Ricky jumped up immediately to help her down the steps. Shegave him a look that was almost up to her old standard. “I am not an invalid, Enrique. I can walk across my own lawn.”
“Yes, Tia,” he said, but stayed by her side as she approached.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Bonito. But they must be so hungry.” The tuxedo kitten squirmed in my grip and she caught him, cradling him against her cheek to the tune of a purr totally out of proportion to his size. “Will you be keeping them?”
I jerked my thumb at Gil, who’d moved on to his front paws. “Despite his little search and rescue adventure, Gil doesn’t like other cats in his territory. Does Ghost have an animal rescue organization?”
“Yes,” Ricky said. “It’s run by?—”
“Let me guess. One of your cousins?”
He just grinned, but Sofia said, “Pfft. We do not need to bother Nayeli about these two. They will have a home here with me.” She turned, the tuxedo kitten burrowed against her neck. “Maz, give that little mariposa to Enrique and take your gatito back home. He deserves a treat.”
Ricky gently detached the tortie kitten’s tiny claws from my T-shirt. “Seems like this one already has a name. Come along, Mariposa.” He paused, then leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Thank you.”
