Oklahoma Reunion. Tina RadcliffeЧитать онлайн книгу.
a way in?”
“Please. Jack Field was bitter to the end. He refused a memorial service just to be stubborn.”
“I know you’re right, Molly. At least my head knows that, but …”
“But nothing. No condemnation. That is not what the good Lord wants.”
Kait took a deep breath.
“Now then, when do I get to see your little girl?” Excitement laced Molly’s words.
“She’s not so little, Molly. She’s grown since you visited us.”
“Have you told Ryan yet?”
Silent, Kait stared at the bubbles rising and sinking in the cast-iron pot.
“You have to tell him. His mother’s threats can’t touch you anymore.”
“I know. And I will.” Kait exhaled. “I will. That’s why I’m here. Finding a segue in a conversation to tell a man he has a child—well, that’s not going to be easy.”
“None of this is easy. But you did the right thing. You kept your baby. Now give your daughter a family. It’s time.”
Kait nodded, though Molly couldn’t see the gesture.
“Oh, and I have the youngest grandkids here for fall break. Does Jenna want to run around with us, maybe later this week? Go to the zoo?”
“I’m sure she’d love to,” Kait said.
“How long will you be here?”
“I only have over three weeks of vacation time accumulated.”
“Oh, that will never do,” Molly admonished. “We’re going to talk about that.”
Kait was still laughing when she said goodbye and put down the phone.
“Look what I found, Momma.”
Kait turned. Jenna stood in the doorway holding a drenched gray tabby against her sweatshirt. “Where did you find a kitten?”
“Under the porch.”
Kait moved to her daughter and gently pushed back Jenna’s wet bangs. “Jen, you’re almost as soaked as this poor little kitty.”
“I was sitting out there reading and I heard her cry. It took me forever to get her to come close enough to pull her out.”
“She’s bleeding.” Kait wiped her hands on her jeans and inspected the animal’s torn ear. “Poor little thing must have been hiding from her attacker.”
“Can we keep her?”
Moistening a kitchen towel, Kait gently applied a corner of fabric to the animal’s ear. She grabbed another towel to wrap around the kitten. “Jen, why don’t you change into dry clothes?”
“But can we keep her?”
Easing the shivering ball of fur into her arms, Kait looked at her daughter. “She might belong to someone.”
“I can put up signs. If no one claims her, then we can keep her, right, Momma?”
Kait hesitated.
“Please?”
“Maybe.” Maybe? Had she really said maybe? That was as good as a yes to her daughter.
Jenna’s face glowed.
How could she deny this one request? They’d lived in a tiny apartment without so much as a goldfish all Jenna’s life. Kait didn’t have the heart to refuse a simple thing like a stray kitten. For once, she wouldn’t be practical and hoped it wouldn’t become a habit. She’d worry about how they were going to pay for the pet deposit at their apartment back home later.
“Do you think she’s hungry?”
“Honey, go change. We’re going to have to get this baby to a vet. Right away. Then we can stop and get cat food.”
“Ryan is a vet. I heard him say so.”
Yes. He was a vet. Kait slowly inhaled and exhaled. Why was it that she had only been back in Granby a few days and circumstances kept conspiring to put her and Jenna in the path of Ryan Jones?
“Momma?”
“Go change, and I’ll get directions.”
Oklahoma State University College of Veterinary Medicine. Kait inspected the framed certificates on the wall. She smiled, so very proud that Ryan had gone after his dreams.
An unexpected lump of sadness welled in her chest. She’d hadn’t been there to share that journey.
Next to his certificate was that of a Lucas Hammond. So there were two vets at the clinic? That was a good thing since it was so busy. She’d watched no less than half a dozen small animals and their owners come in and out of the front door since she arrived.
Kait checked her watch. That had been quite a while ago.
She approached the counter. “Excuse me?”
The receptionist arched her penciled brows while twisting a strand of fuchsia hair around a finger but didn’t put down the cell phone attached to her ear.
“How much longer do you think it will be?”
“That’s hard to say. Dr. Jones is booked solid, and you didn’t have an appointment.”
Kait bit her lip at the accusation but decided against pointing out that the sign outside said walk-ins were welcome. “What about Doctor Hammond?”
“Who?”
“Doctor … never mind. Perhaps you can give me directions to another clinic?”
The door behind the receptionist opened, and Ryan appeared. Head down, broad shoulders slumped, he shoved a stethoscope into his lab-coat pocket and ran a hand through his hair as he checked a ledger on the counter. His guard was down, and Kait was taken aback by the fatigue and something else—discouragement perhaps—that she saw in his stance.
Ryan rarely showed any emotion, instead putting on his happy-go-lucky face for the world. She knew he must have a lot on his mind. Her heart ached, and for a moment she simply stared. How simple it would be to reach out and smooth the worry lines from his brow and give him a hug of encouragement.
With a small sigh, she turned her face away. Nothing was simple anymore.
“Kait? What are you doing here?”
She swung back at his voice.
When he offered a tentative smile, she froze for a moment. He so reminded her of Jenna.
Any trace of fatigue or stress had disappeared, and his smile, however wary, wrapped itself around her. Suddenly she was glad Jenna had convinced her to come to his clinic.
Kait pointed across the room to where Jenna held the kitten; both were mesmerized by the huge tropical fish tank in the corner.
“You have a kitten.”
“Jenna found her. It looks like she was in a tussle.”
“Who? Jenna or the cat?”
Kait swallowed a laugh at his dry humor. “The cat.”
“Ah.” He crossed the room. “Hey, Jenna. Good to see you again.”
She turned at his voice, her face brightening. “My kitty was in a fight.”
He leaned closer to inspect the kitten and then looked up at Kait. “How long have you been here?”
“About an hour,” she replied.
“An hour?” Ryan glanced at the receptionist who kept chatting on her cell, oblivious to the note of disapproval in his voice. “I’m sorry. I can tell you that won’t happen again.”