“You’re absolutely right,” I agree with relief as if I’ve just been told I didn’t have to run a marathon tomorrow. “Ella doesn’t need to be reading by six months or speaking in complete sentences like some kind of tiny scholar with a superiority complex. She just needs to be Ella—and Ella is perfect exactly as she is, drool and all.”
Finally, some sense from the two of you,Fish says with approval.Babies are supposed to be babies, not tiny scholars with developmental pressure that would crack most reasonable adults.
I’m about to say something else when movement behind the grandfather clock in the corner catches my eye. It was just a quiver, but enough to grab my attention because in a house full of pets, unexpected shadows usually mean someone’s gotten into something they shouldn’t have, like Christmas ornaments or possibly evidence.
“Did you see that?” I ask, shifting Ella carefully as I get up to investigate what’s probably either very innocent or very expensive to replace.
“See what?” Jasper looks up from his conversation with Leo about the finer points of crime scene photography versus holidayphotography, which is apparently a thing now that we’ve made it our family specialty.
I move toward the grandfather clock, which sits in a cozy corner near the bay windows, surrounded by presents that haven’t been opened yet and a small pile of Christmas-themed novels that someone optimistically thought we’d have time to read during the chaos of the holidays instead of solving murders and arresting people in chocolate factories.
That’s when I see her.
Jellybean is curled up in a nest of what appears to be stolen Christmas ribbons and a few missing dish towels, and she’s not alone. Nestled against her are four of the most adorable kittens I’ve ever seen in my life, each one a perfect miniature copy of their mother with the same black and white tuxedo markings and tiny pink noses that could cure the holiday blues for anyone.
“Oh my goodness,” I breathe, and suddenly everyone in the room is alert and moving toward me like I’ve just announced the discovery of buried treasure. And in a way, I have.
“What is it?” Mom asks, rising from the sofa with the speed of a grandmother who’s learned that unexpected discoveries in this family can range from delightful to catastrophic with very little middle ground.
“I found her,” I announce, pulling out my phone to text Hammie Mae before I even finish processing what I’m seeing, because this news is too good to wait for proper mental processing. “I found Jellybean. And she has babies. Four adorable, perfect babies that look like tiny Christmas miracles wrapped in fur.”
The room erupts in excited chatter as everyone crowds around to see the Christmas blessings nestled behind the grandfather clock. Jellybean looks up at us with the satisfied expression of a cat who’s successfully pulled off the surprise of the century and knows exactly how impressive she is.
Well, it’s about time someone found us,she says with typical feline composure.I was getting tired of listening to all that worrywhen I was perfectly fine and busy being a responsible mother with excellent hiding skills.
“Yes, you were,” I say with a laugh. “You are a wonderful mother.”
You had babies! Kittens! Four cute little kittens without their mittens!Sherlock barks with the kind of joy usually reserved for discovering unlimited treats.They’re so tiny and perfect and fuzzy!
I’ve been keeping them safe until they were ready to meet the world,Jellybean says with maternal pride.Christmas seemed like the perfect day for introductions and maximum dramatic impact because I have excellent timing.
My phone buzzes immediately with Hammie Mae’s response, and within what feels like seconds, we hear car doors slamming outside and the sound of rapid footsteps on the front porch.
Matilda bursts through the door as if she were hunting diamonds and furballs, with Hammie Mae close behind carrying baby Matilda, and Fudge bringing up the rear with his tail wagging so hard his entire body is wiggling like a furry little earthquake with attitude.
“Where is she?” Matilda demands, scanning the room with intensity as if conducting a military operation. “Where’s my sweet angel who’s been giving me heart palpitations, sleepless nights, and possibly an ulcer?”
“Right here,” I say, stepping aside so she can see Jellybean’s cozy setup behind the clock that looks like something from a Christmas card.
The sound Matilda makes could charitably be described as a sob of pure relief mixed with Christmas joy, maternal hysteria, and possibly a small nervous breakdown from stress relief that’s been building for days.
She drops to her knees beside the makeshift nest and reaches out to gently stroke Jellybean’s head.
“You beautiful, brilliant, absolutely infuriating girl,” shewhispers as if addressing a beloved family member who’s just put them through the emotional wringer. “You had me scared out of my mind, probably took years off my life, and made me question my sanity. And look what you’ve been doing while I was worried sick and posting missing cat flyers all over the county.”
She was being a good mother,Fudge barks with approval.Protecting her babies until they were strong enough for public appearances and family chaos.
“Jellybean has babies!” little Matilda announces with the kind of wide-eyed excitement that suggests she fully understands the significance of this furry discovery. “Christmas miracle! Very exciting! Much better than presents!”
Smart baby,Fish mewls.Smart but scary. I’d sleep with the lights on if I were Hammie Mae.
Hammie Mae kneels beside her mother, both of them gazing at the kittens with the kind of wonder usually reserved for royal weddings or really good chocolate.
“Four kittens,” Hammie Mae counts softly. “Two boys and two girls, from the looks of it. And they all look exactly like their mama, like tiny carbon copies designed by someone with excellent attention to detail.”
“They’re perfect,” Matilda says, sniffing back tears. “Absolutely perfect little angels who were worth every moment of worry and every sleepless night.”
The rest of us stand around watching this reunion with the kind of warm satisfaction that makes Christmas feel like exactly what it’s supposed to be—a time when everything works out right, families come together, and miracles happen in the most unexpected places.
