Page 38 of Reforming Lord Neil

When Caroline stood close enough to where he would strip the wood using an old stump and handsaw on the dead cherry branches, she chirped, “I think we ought to call her Muse.”

“Muse?” Neil stripped off his leather gloves and sat on the tall stump. “Why is that?”

“Because the muses used to help people with ideas, and people wanted them around. I think that name will make her feel useful and wanted.” She bent to scratch the dog behind the ears.

“It sounds perfect, then. What about your cat? Have you named him yet?” Neil asked.

“I don’t know if I should. Dogs will stay close by, if you feed them, but cats just disappear sometimes. The last one did.” Caroline frowned and looked to where the cat had stopped pouncing in order to sun himself, all stretched out on his back with tail twitching.

Neil considered the cat, and her words, carefully. “Perhaps that is true. He may find another barn he likes better someday. Cats are wanderers at heart, I suppose. What was your other cat’s name?”

Caroline sat, fluffing her dress as she did. Muse, the dog now bearing the title of Greek goddesses, crept closer until she could put her head in the child’s lap.

“The last cat was Ginger. She was yellow and white.”

“And do you hope she is well-treated, wherever she may have gone?”

Caroline nodded without hesitation. “She was a very good cat. Sweet.” But her shoulders fell more. “I wish she would have stayed.”

Neil gave her an understanding smile. “I know. We cannot always control who comes into our life, or who leaves it. But I am certain most would tell you to make what you can out of the time you have. Name your kitten, Cara. Love him while he is here and wish him well when he goes.”

To Neil’s surprise, the little girl ducked her head and started to cry.

That had not been his intention, nor had he seen it coming. He came off the log and went to sit beside her. At his approach, Muse’s tail started to thump happily against the ground. The dog lifted its head from her lap, appearing equally distressed by the child’s change in temperament.

“Caroline. Did I say something unkind?” He had a handkerchief, clean, and in his coat pocket. But he had left the coat behind in the orchard. How did one comfort a crying child without a handkerchief to offer?

“N-n-no.” Caroline made a handkerchief appear from her apron. She started dabbing at her eyes, but it seemed ineffectual. “But I do not want anyone else to leave.”

“Anyone else?”

“Like my papa.” She sniffled and wrapped her arms around Muse’s neck. The dog snuggled into the girl’s chest, as any self-respecting dog would. “I hated that he left. That he died. And then we had to leave our house. I like it here. But it was d-d-difficult.” Tears glistened in her eyes as she turned her head toward Neil, putting her cheek atop Muse’s head.

How had talk of a cat brought her to mourning her father? While Neil well knew fully grown women to be emotional creatures, he had not expected to find one so young susceptible to the same.

“That must have been very difficult for you.” Neil pulled one knee up and rested his elbow upon it, looking out over the vegetable patch toward the road. “You miss your father still?”

She nodded and swiped at her eyes again. “Mama said he did not want to die and leave us. And I know that. But that doesn’t stop it from hurting. Sometimes, it’s hard to even remember him. I know he was tall, like you. But he had black hair, like me and Mama. And he laughed, all the time.”

The poor mite. And yet, how fortunate she had been, to have a father that obviously adored her. Not all children were so lucky. Neil had not been. He sighed and took his hat off, scratching at his head. “Would you want to forget your father, if you could? If you could forget all about him and stop missing him, would you?”

Caroline shook her head, ruffling the dog’s fur. “I would never want to forget him. Ever. That would be worse.”

The cat chose that moment to come closer, batting at Neil’s dangling fingers. He obliged the animal by stroking its back. “It hurts when someone leaves us, it hurts all the more if we cared for them. You loved your father a great deal. But forgetting him would be worse; it would leave a different pain and hole behind. There is nothing wrong with loving someone, or caring for a cat. It makes our lives better, I should think. Richer.”

Caroline released a sigh and said, most reluctantly, “I know.”

“Good. Because I happen to know the opposite is also true. There are very few people who care for me as your mother and grandmother do for you, Cara. I am the poorer for it. Everyone who loves you, and everyone you love, will give your life greater depth and joy. If you go about withholding your affection, simply because of what might happen, you will be lonely.”

Much as he was. There was no one upon whom Neil could depend upon or call upon for aid. His sister’s letter the day before had been terse, impatient with him. His mother had not written at all. He did not know if he expected her to do so until there was real news.

What had become of his life that it was so empty?

Neil rose and brushed off his trousers. Then he offered his hand to Caroline and pulled her to her feet. “I need to go to the village, Caroline. Will you look after Muse for me?”

“Yes, Mr. Duncan.” Then she offered him a wobbly smile, her eyes drier. “Thank you for speaking with me. I think you must be right.” She looked down at the kitten, and the light of determination sparked in her eyes. “I want to name my kitten. What do you think of the name Cider?”

“A perfect name.” Neil’s chest grew heavy, though the girl smiled brightly at him before leaving, walking toward her house.