Marjorie’s smile went weak. Sam called her Kitten, had for weeks now, and like the stray cat he’d found in his youth, she, too, was an orphan. Little things played back in her mind. Minor incidents came into focus. Puzzle pieces fell into place, making a clear picture. Sam was a rescuer, always had been and always would be. He’d seen it as his duty to take care of her the night she went into surgery.

When they’d first started dating, he had tried several times to rescue her. He’d wanted to step in when Al had cheated her out of her commission. He’d bought the Mercedes more for her benefit than for his own. Now that she was seeing him regularly, she knew that he had a perfectly serviceable car and had no reason to purchase another.

“What happened with the kitten?” She was almost afraid to ask.

“He nursed her back to health. You should have seen that silly cat. She was the most prickly, bad-tempered thing—wouldn’t let anyone near her. You’d think she would have been more appreciative of everything he had done for her.”

The knot in Marjorie’s stomach tightened to a punishing level of discomfort. After her surgery she’d lashed out at Sam at every turn. She’d even accused him of getting a kickback from the hospital for every patient he forced to stay. At least she’d felt guilty later and had apologized.

“He…Sam kept the cat, though, right?” she asked, sure she already knew the answer.

“Named her Kitten and ignored her bad moods.”

“Didn’t he get tired of her moods and lose interest after a while?” Once again, she was certain of the answer, and her stomach sank.

Irene nodded. “It was bound to happen. Summer came, and Sam had his friends. But he kept her, and she became a regular member of the family. I remember the funniest thing about that cat. The first time Kitten became a mother, she wouldn’t let anyone close to her except Sam. He was with her when she gave birth. Years later, when she died, Sam was in his first year of high school, and he was real broken up for a long time afterward. But he got over her, and he’s owned several cats since.”

Marjorie struggled to disguise her distress. All his talk about accepting her as she was, loving her and needing her, was a lie. Sam hadn’t accepted her. He never had. To him, she was a pitiful, lost soul, helpless and in need of being rescued. From what his mother had told her and from what she’d seen herself, she was forced to admit that Sam had yet to accept how truly independent she was. And like the kitten from his youth, Sam would eventually replace her, too. His interest would wander, and his feelings for her would change.