On the 15th of April, Lydia found Ashes curled up in Isabelle's mending bag. She was breathing heavy and her eyes had a glassy look to them. Panic ripped through Lydia. A birth was about to take place. Would Ashes survive? Would her kittens? She called for Isabelle. When she saw Ashes, she stroked her head and said, “There my girl. I will see you through this, do not worry.” Ashes turned dull eyes toward Isabelle. There was trust in those deep gold eyes.

The only births Lydia had ever seen where those of her sisters. In all truth if she could run far from this moment she would. Isabelle told her, "Go to the rag bin and rip up some rags. We will need them." She turned her attention back to Ashes and said, "There is little I can do, all the hard work is Ashes'."

The process of birthing kittens took awhile. The first one that slipped out was a shockingly slimy looking thing. Lydia felt her stomach turn. Isabelle gently put the kitten by Ashes’ head. The mother cat began to lick away at the mucous mess, revealing the kitten’s mostly white fur and the tiny patch of orange over the left eye. With each stroke of her mother’s tongue, the tiny kitten wriggled. It was breathing, it was alive. Joy rushed through Lydia! Two more kittens followed that were the same color as their mother. All of them, living and breathing. IT was a beautiful miracle. Lydia touched the first born kitten. Its fur was so soft. She asked Isabelle, “Is this a girl or a boy?”

Isabelle shrugged. “With cats its hard to tell until they are several weeks old.”

Lydia had not known this. As she looked down at the little calico kitten, something inside of her stirred. Girl or boy, she had just fallen in love with this tiny scrap of animal. It was a dangerous thing to love, but she could not help herself.

That night, alone in her room, she prayed for Ashes and her babies. She said a special prayer for the calico.

*

Two weeks later, the kittens’ blue eyes were opened and their ears had stood up. Patch, which is what Lydia had secretly named her favorite kitty, stared up at her on wobbly legs. It seemed this creature became more precious to her with each passing day.

That afternoon when Jon Paul Gerard delivered the wax, he heard the kittens mewing. He said to Lydia, “So, the babies have come. May I see them? My Mama has been wishing for a cat?”

Lydia was not sure what to do or say. Isabelle would not want to see him. To Lydia’s surprise, Isabelle came into the shop, holding one of the seal gray kittens. She said to Joh Paul, “I think your Mama will like this one. It is very fastidious.”

In his strong hands, Jon Paul took the kitten. He smiled down on it and said, “I think you are right. She will be so happy to hear, she will finally have one of the Great Mouser’s kits.” He asked, “May I see the others?”

Isabelle teased, “Are you wanting one for yourself?”

He shrugged and said, “Perhaps.”

Lydia had not verbally claimed the little calico, Patch. What if Jon Paul wanted that one?

Isabelle said, “”Lydia will you show him the other kittens?”

“Oui, Madame.” She lead Jon Paul through the work kitchen, into the house kitchen. Ashes was in a crate soundly sleeping while her other two babies crawled all over her.

Jon Paul stifled a laugh. He smiled and asked, “There is nothing like new life is there?”

It was true. Lydia returned his smile and said, “There is not.”

He put down the kitten he was holding.. To Lydia’s dismay he said, “I have always had a fondness for calicos.”

No!

Gently, he picked up Patch. The kitten stared at him and he stared back. Jon Paul said, “This one is a smart one I can tell.” Anther reason to want Patch. At that moment he turned and looked into Lydia’s eyes. It was the first time she had noticed their dark amber lights. He said, “Ah, so you too are fond of calicos. Have you spoken for this one?”

Lydia shook her head. She had not. It seemed inappropriate to be asking to keep a pet, when she was so new to the job, but she so wanted this cat.

Jon Paul smiled at her and said, “Ask. If Madame says no, I will take the calico so you will know where your darling is and that he or she is being well cared for.”

Did he mean it? “That would be very kind, Monsieur.” But, it would not be the same as having Patch for herself.

*

A week passed and the kittens became more lively. Each day Lydia resolved to ask for Patch, but each day her courage failed her. The thought of being told no was ominous in her mind. To have another being she cared for removed from her immediate proximity, was a heart breaking thought.

One morning after the kitchen was tidy, Lydia went to the cat box. The kittens were pouncing on each other and grabbing one another’s tails. From the box, Lydia lifted Patch. He or she, they still were not sure, rubbed their little head against Lydia’s hand. Unaware that Isabelle was watching her, Lydia kissed the kitten’s head and cuddled Patch close.

Isabelle asked, “Would you like to keep that one?”

Overwhelmed, Lydia asked, “Oh, may I?”

Isabelle joined her by the cat box. “Oui. You may. The other two are spoken for and I thank God for that. Usually, I keep Ashes confined when she is in heat, but in my grief I forgot that life keeps being created. Still, I am grateful I did forget, these babes have been a charming distraction. What will you call it?”

This tiny creature would be her own! Lydia had never had her own pet before. If tended well and looked after, a cat could enjoy a long life. Aunt Rachel had a cat named Elise, that lived to be eighteen years old. If only this warm little bundle of fur could have such a long life, she would not be lonely. With tear filled eyes she said, “Oh, thank you Isabelle. I had not dared to hope I might keep it. I have named it Patch.”

“A very appropriate name. Did you have any pets as a child?”

“No. My fader raises fighting cocks. I always adored the little chicks, but I abhorred what they would become.”

“Ah, I remember Henri telling me about the cock fight he saw while we were in Troyes for the Hot Fair. He said your papa had the finest birds and the best fighters.”

It was true. Lydia replied, “Fader never did any of his business by half measures. Excellence was his creed.”

A tenderness came into Isabelle’s voice when she said, “I wager his attention to other details in his life suffered as a result.”

“True. He was not a good husband or a good father, or for that matter. unless a miracle has occurred, he is not a good person.”

“Regardless,” said Isabelle, “you are a fine young woman. The destiny of a child is not determined entirely by the man who sired her.” Her eyes took on a faraway expression. Lydia knew what this meant. Henri was about to be thoroughly recalled. In a soft voice, Isabelle said, “My Henri and I longed for children that did not come. My Mama believed I was fortunate, I was not so sure. When Henri died, I was thankful, I only had myself to answer for. While I am better off than I was, thanks to you, I could not be supporting a host of babes.” Isabelle visibly shuddered and closed her eyes. "I have always feared child birth. My oldest sister died of it as did the babe. A double terrible tragedy. I thought Henri would not survive the loss, but in time he did. In more time he began to see beyond his grief and came to love me. He was the kindest man I have ever known, and I do not expect to ever meet another like him.”

At that moment, a voice called from the shop, “Madame Beauxchampe, where are you?”

It was Brewer Arlette, come to buy more prayer candles. Isabelle said, “Could you go deal with him? We need his money, but I cannot stomach his fawning this morning.”

This was the first time that Isabelle had ever mentioned she was aware of Brewer Arlette’s interest. Lydia put Patch back in the box. When she entered the shop, the bright smile on Brewer Arlette’s face was replaced by disappointment and concern. He asked, “Madame is not feeling poorly this morning is she?” He was completely smitten with Isabelle and he did not even try to hide it.

Lydia said, “No, she is fine, just other wise engaged.”

“Oh, I see. I will return later this afternoon.” He bowed to her and left.

Moments after the door closed, Isabelle came into the shop. Lydia told her, “He is coming back.”

She sighed. “Oh well, I guess there are worse things than an attentive man who buys our candles.”