I also thought with sympathy about Chip Camden and Billy Albritton and the sorrows they faced, as well as the sad, painful legacy of Gerry Albritton. Now that I knew the truth about her, I wished I could tell her how much I admired her strength and courage in overcoming such a horrible childhood. I felt pity for Jack Albritton, now an old man in a nursing home, who many years ago had traded his child for money. It was not my place to judge him. He might have no memory whatsoever of what he had done. He had been desperately poor at the time and trying to take care of his family. I was profoundly thankful that I had never been faced with such a dilemma.
I turned my gaze toward Diesel, who sat by the bassinets on the side of the table. The bassinets that held my priceless, precious grandchildren. He stayed by them and watched them anxiously lest either one woke and turned fretful. He would remain their devoted servant as they grew, and I hoped they would love him in return.
I felt the prick of claws on my thigh. Sighing, I looked down to see Ramses starting to climb my leg. I thought I had left him safely in the utility room with his own version of Christmas lunch and plenty of water. But the little escape artist had somehow managed to get out. I must not have closed the door tightly. I plucked the kitten from my leg and put him in my lap. When Tommy Russum had showed up at the front door two hours ago with Ramses in a basket with a large bow on it, I didn’t have the heart to turn down his gift. I wasn’t sure I could handle a rambunctious handful like Ramses, but as he climbed up my torso to rub his head against my chin, I decided he would probably be worth the effort. He was one of the most memorable Christmas presents I ever received.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Miranda James
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