Steve came home two days later.
Not our home.
The hotel first.
The cardiologist wanted him nearby for one more night before clearing him for the drive back.
Greg transformed our room into a recovery ward within fifteen minutes.
Michael watched him arrange medication.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“You realize there is an actual hospital three blocks away.”
“Yes.”
“With actual professionals.”
“I’m following discharge instructions.”
“You labeled the syringes by minute.”
“Accuracy matters.”
Michael looked at me.
I shook my head.
“Choose your battles.”
Susan had been returned to us as well.
The reunion was anticlimactic.
I expected something sentimental.
Instead Susan sniffed Steve twice, stepped on his tail, and attempted to steal his blanket.
Greg looked offended on Steve’s behalf.
“She missed him.”
“Clearly,” Michael said.
“She did.”
Susan bit the corner of the towel.
“Deeply.”
Greg ignored him.
Steve slept most of the evening.
His breathing was different.
Slower.
Easier.
Every few minutes, Greg looked over to confirm it.
Eventually I said, “You’re counting.”
“No.”
“You’re moving your lips.”
“I’m chewing.”
“You have no food.”
He stopped.
Michael laughed from the other bed.
“I’m going to miss this.”
Greg looked at him.
“You’re flying back tomorrow.”
“Unfortunately.”
“You could stay another day.”
The words escaped before Greg caught them.
Michael smiled.
“I could.”
Greg waited.
“But I shouldn’t.”
A week earlier, that answer would have hurt him.
Now he nodded.
“Work?”
“Work. Also Claire.”
Greg’s eyebrows moved.
He controlled them heroically.
“Have fun.”
Michael stared at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing the face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you have fourteen questions.”
“I have maybe six.”
“Keep them.”
Greg nodded.
“Okay.”
Michael looked genuinely impressed.
I laughed.
The following morning, Steve was cleared for travel.
Before we left, Dr. Singh’s colleague at the surgical center showed us the new images.
The abnormal blood flow had been corrected.
Steve’s heart would need monitoring as he grew, but the prognosis was encouraging.
Greg asked whether Steve could live a normal life.
“That’s the goal,” the cardiologist said.
“Running?”
“Yes.”
“Climbing?”
“Probably more than you want.”
“Normal lifespan?”
“We have every reason to hope for one.”
Greg smiled.
There was that word again.
Hope.
He was learning to live with it.
On the drive home, Michael took the first shift.
Greg sat beside me this time.
The kittens rode secured behind us.
For almost an hour, nobody spoke.
Then Greg said, “I want to keep them.”
I looked at him.
Michael glanced at us in the mirror but said nothing.
Greg continued.
“I know that isn’t necessarily what we should do.”
I waited.
“I just wanted to say it plainly.”
“That’s allowed.”
“I want Susan.”
“Even with the name?”
“Especially.”
“And Steve?”
Greg looked backward.
“Yes.”
His voice softened.
“Very much.”
I touched his hand.
“So do I.”
He turned.
“You do?”
“Unfortunately.”
Greg smiled.
“Then why don’t we?”
There it was.
The temptation.
We could.
Nobody could stop us from applying to adopt.
We had the house.
The resources.
The experience.
And we already loved them.
“Because another family wants them too.”
“That doesn’t automatically make them better.”
“No.”
“We know their medical history.”
“Yes.”
“We know their routine.”
“Yes.”
“Steve trusts us.”
“Yes.”
Greg frowned.
“You’re making a terrible argument against me.”
“I’m not arguing.”
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure we admit what we want before deciding what they need.”
Greg looked out the window.
Michael finally spoke.
“That sounds annoying.”
“It is,” Greg said.
“I grew up with it.”
“So did I,” I replied.
“You married it,” Michael said.
“By choice,” Greg added.
“I was young.”
Greg smiled.
By afternoon, Michael had to leave us at the airport for his return flight.
Greg hugged him.
“Thank you.”
Michael shrugged.
“For driving?”
“For coming.”
Michael’s expression changed.
“Anytime.”
Greg shook his head.
“No.”
Michael frowned.
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
Greg placed both hands on our son’s shoulders.
“Come when you want. Not because you think I need checking.”
Michael smiled.
“Deal.”
Then he hugged Greg again.
This time Greg was the first to let go.
That mattered too.
We arrived home late.
The house smelled stale after several days away.
I opened windows.
Greg carried the kittens into the guest room.
He stopped in the doorway.
The old rocking chair waited.
Michael’s blanket lay folded where we had left it.
For the first time since this began, the room did not feel like a nursery resurrected from the past.
It was simply a room where two animals temporarily needed care.
Temporary.
The word still hurt.
Saturday came quickly.
The prospective adopters arrived at eleven.
Their names were Nina and Robert.
They had a twelve-year-old daughter, Lily.
Greg had been unbearable all morning.
“Why are they bringing a child?”
“Because she lives with them.”
“She might handle Steve incorrectly.”
“She is twelve.”
“So?”
“At twelve, Emma was babysitting.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“I knew Emma.”
I stared at him.
“You understand we generally do not know strangers before meeting them.”
“I’m aware.”
The doorbell rang.
Greg looked toward the guest room.
“Too late to cancel?”
“Yes.”
“I could say Steve had a setback.”
“That would be lying.”
He sighed.
“I hate personal growth.”
“I know.”
I opened the door.
Nina was warm without being overfamiliar.
Robert carried a small notebook.
Lily stood between them holding nothing.
I noticed that immediately.
No toy.
No treat.
No attempt to win the kittens.
Denise had apparently instructed them well.
Greg noticed too.
We sat in the living room first.
Nina explained that their cat of seventeen years had died the previous winter.
They had waited before considering another.
“Why two?” Greg asked.
His tone was dangerously close to an interview.
Nina smiled.
“Because Denise said they were siblings.”
“That doesn’t mean they need to stay together.”
I looked at him.
He ignored me.
Robert nodded.
“We know.”
“Steve has a heart condition.”
“We know.”
“He had surgery.”
“We know.”
“He may need follow-up care.”
Robert opened the notebook.
“We have the cardiology schedule.”
Greg blinked.
I almost smiled.
He had met his match.
“What veterinarian do you use?”
Robert gave the name.
Greg knew the clinic.
Apparently it passed.
“What if Steve needs another procedure?”
“We’ll do what our veterinarian recommends.”
“What if it’s expensive?”
Nina’s expression remained calm.
“We’ve discussed that.”
“With Lily?”
“Yes.”
Greg looked at the girl.
She had been quiet.
“What do you think?”
Lily considered him.
“I think if we adopt an animal, we’re responsible for taking care of it.”
Greg stared at her.
“Even if it’s hard?”
“Yes.”
“Even if he doesn’t like you?”
Lily frowned.
“Why wouldn’t he like me?”
I laughed.
Greg almost did.
Then she added, “He doesn’t have to like me right away.”
That answer seemed to affect him.
We brought them into the guest room.
Susan immediately marched toward Lily.
There was no dignity in it.
She stumbled twice, recovered, and attacked a shoelace.
Lily sat on the floor without touching her.
Greg watched.
“Go ahead,” he finally said.
Lily held out one finger.
Susan sniffed it.
Then bit it.
Lily laughed.
Greg’s mouth twitched.
“She does that.”
Steve stayed near the blanket.
Robert crouched several feet away.
He did not reach for him.
After a while, Steve moved forward.
One step.
Then another.
Greg stopped breathing.
Steve reached Robert’s shoe and sniffed it.
Robert remained still.
Eventually Steve climbed partly onto his ankle.
I looked at Greg.
His eyes had filled.
He turned away.
I followed him into the kitchen.
“You okay?”
“No.”
I waited.
“They’re good.”
“Yes.”
“I was hoping they wouldn’t be.”
“I know.”
“That makes me terrible.”
“No.”
“It makes this harder.”
“Yes.”
He leaned against the counter.
“I can find reasons.”
“I know.”
“They have stairs.”
“So do we.”
“They both work.”
“So did we when our children were babies.”
“The girl is young.”
“She’s twelve.”
“She’ll go to college someday.”
“Probably.”
Greg glared.
“You are not helping.”
“I’m not supposed to help you invent reasons.”
He closed his eyes.
“I want them.”
“I know.”
“I love them.”
“I know.”
“So why does loving them mean I’m supposed to hand them to somebody else?”
I thought carefully.
“It doesn’t.”
He opened his eyes.
“We could keep them.”
“Yes.”
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
His expression shifted.
I continued.
“We can apply. We can tell Denise we want them permanently.”
Greg stared at me.
“Then why are we doing this?”
“Because keeping them should be a choice, not proof that you succeeded.”
He looked toward the guest room.
I lowered my voice.
“You saved Steve.”
“No. The surgeons—”
“You know what I mean.”
He nodded.
“You got him out of the dirt. You got him help. You paid part of his treatment. You sat beside him.”
My throat tightened.
“But none of that means he owes you the rest of his life.”
Greg’s face crumpled slightly.
“I know.”
I touched his arm.
“That is the part you’ve been learning.”
He looked down.
“When Michael left, I felt like I’d done something wrong.”
“You hadn’t.”
“When Emma stopped calling about every problem, I thought she trusted me less.”
“She trusted herself more.”
He nodded.
“And now these two.”
“Yes.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Apparently the universe lacks subtlety.”
From the guest room came Lily’s laughter.
Then Susan’s sharp little squeak.
Greg wiped his eyes.
“Give me a minute.”
I stayed beside him.
After a while, he straightened.
We returned.
Steve had climbed into Robert’s lap.
Greg stopped in the doorway.
Robert looked up.
“I didn’t pick him up.”
“I know.”
“He came over.”
“I saw.”
Greg walked across the room.
He crouched.
Steve looked at him.
For one second, I expected the kitten to move toward Greg.
He didn’t.
He settled against Robert.
Greg smiled.
It was a painful smile.
But real.
After the family left, Denise called.
“How did it go?”
Greg answered.
“They’re terrible.”
I stared at him.
Denise laughed.
“So you liked them.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Do you want time?”
Greg looked at me.
I nodded.
He looked toward the kittens.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Until tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
That night, Greg slept badly.
So did I.
At three in the morning, I woke and found him beside me.
He was awake.
Not downstairs.
Not hiding.
“Can’t sleep?” I asked.
“No.”
“Thinking?”
“Yes.”
“Want to talk?”
“No.”
I smiled.
“Okay.”
Ten minutes passed.
Then he said, “I think they should go.”
I turned toward him.
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
“That seems to be becoming your favorite answer.”
“I hate it.”
“I know.”
He stared at the ceiling.
“If we keep them because I can’t stand goodbye, then everything I said about helping them was partly a lie.”
“Not a lie.”
“Selfish.”
“People are allowed to want things.”
“Yes.”
He turned toward me.
“But I want to know I can do this.”
“Do what?”
“Love something without requiring it to stay.”
I took his hand beneath the blanket.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then Greg whispered, “Call Denise tomorrow.”
I squeezed his fingers.
“We’ll call together.”
He nodded.
In the morning, before we could make the call, Denise called us.
Her voice was cautious.
“The family wants them.”
Greg closed his eyes.
“Both?”
“Both.”
He swallowed.
“When?”
“As soon as they’re medically cleared.”
Greg looked toward the guest room.
Steve was recovering well.
Susan was already strong.
The date we had feared now had shape.
Ten days.
Ten more mornings.
Ten more nighttime feedings.
Ten more days of being needed.
Then the job would end.
Greg opened his eyes.
“All right,” he said.
And this time, he did not ask how to stop it.
Click here to continue reading: PART 16: Ten Days Before the Kittens Were Due to Leave, Greg Began Preparing for Goodbye—Then Emma Asked Him for Something He Never Expected
For Three Weeks Greg Left Our Bed After Midnight, and One Missing Family Keepsake Made His Explanation Impossible to Believe
Part 15 of 24
