Nearby, his shirt and overcoat hung from a bedpost. Theodore reached into one of the coat pockets and withdrew a familiar gear with three missing teeth. The gear he’d been trying to repair when Father had confronted him in the study all those years ago. The gear he’d carried ever since as a tangible reminder of the one thing he could never mend.
“I’ve no use for broken pieces.”
Though his father yet lived, the moment those words had been spoken with the cold finality of death, Theodore had become an orphan. Bereft of home. Bereft of family. Bereft of the hope of ever belonging to someone who cared to claim him.
“Come now, Mr. Arthur. Surely you have someone, somewhere, whomisses you.”
That conversation with Miss Stanton had been a wretched mistake. He ought to know by now that she never settled for casual banter. She always pushed. Always asked one question too many. He should’ve held his tongue. But no, he had to go and make some offhand comment about family and spark the woman’s curiosity.
He fisted the gear. Dash it all, he’d been flabbergasted! Flabbergasted by the discovery of Miss Stanton reading on the floor at the Klementinum, by the rosy flush of her cheeks and the sudden appearance of a smile on her lips. He’d not thought her capable of such an endearing smile. At the sight of it, his mind had become muddled, and he’d forgotten to keep his past locked away when they’d lingered at the astronomical tower. Forgotten to keep her from seeing inside the clock casing called Arthur that held him together.
Theodore shoved the battered gear into his pocket. Hecouldn’t make that mistake again. No matter how pleasant her company had become—no matter how prettily those silver eyes of hers gleamed in the starlight—Miss Stanton must never know the truth of him.
Dear Little Atlas,
You’ve clickety-clacked your way to Prague. Well done! I’m so proud of you. Thank you for trusting my love enough to take that step of faith and follow me into the frightening unknown. I hope the book I mined from the Klementinum library’s myriad gems proved a worthwhile reward, and I pray, as we continue this second leg of our scavenger hunt, that you won’t grow weary of the journey. No matter how many miles separate us, rest assured, we’re on this adventure together. Every step you take I have taken first, choosing each location with care and priming the way before you with joyous surprises.
In so doing, I hope to remind we two that there’s One who precedes us both on the journey of life. There is a God who loves us more than we could ever love each other, and because there’s no darkness in Him at all, we can trust His love absolutely. We can lean wholly upon it and follow Him into the unknown, trusting that He will carry us through sunshine and storm. Trusting that the Way, the Truth, and the Life is better than our way, our understanding, and our might. With this in mind, let us carry on, together. My next clue can be found where timely apostles parade above the heaven’s expanse and the earth’s days.
Your devoted,
Grand
The nightmares might rob him of sleep, but Theodore would be hanged if they ruined one minute of this day. Standing on a configuration of black-and-white cobbles, he gazed upward at Prague’s Orloj, the medieval astronomical clock mounted on the southern wall of the Old Town Hall in the city’s Old Town Square. It was an astounding bit of craftmanship! He’d studied the clock for over two hours now, and still, he’d not taken in half of its marvels.
Fatigue slumped his eyelids with the weight of a passed-out drunkard. He leaned into the support of his crutch and tried to blink off the unwelcome bleariness. Force his eyes to stay vigilant and survey the magnificent mechanism’s every facet.
The clock tower was composed of three main components. At the base was a circular calendar dial with a background of shining gold, juxtaposed with painted medallions representing the months of the year. As a standard clock marked the time, so the calendar dial marked the day’s date—April 11, 1860. A golden statue of the archangel Michael flanked the calendar, and just above it, an astronomical dial of equal size and shape possessed an astrolabe and a twenty-four-hour clock. This dial of overlapping blue spheres was haunted by a skeleton figure holding an ominous hourglass. Directly above the visage of death, at the tower’s peak, the stone bust of an angel watched over all between a pair of shuttered windows.
Soon those windows would open and reveal their hidden wonders.
“Take care, Mr. Arthur. If you tilt your head back any farther, it’s likely to roll right off. I should hate to have to explain your decapitation to Grand.”
Theodore smirked but didn’t lower his head, despite the burgeoning ache in his neck. “I’m certain Drosselmeyer would understand the reason for my untimely demise. I don’t want to miss one blessed thing.” He must remember to thank the old codger with the heartiest of handshakes. The simplegesture couldn’t begin to convey the depth of his gratitude for this moment, but it was a start. One he’d endeavor to build upon for the rest of his life.
“What might you miss, pray tell? We’ve taken in the parade twice, and it won’t begin again for another fifteen minutes. Surely you could rest your neck for that length of time without incurring some regrettable deprivation.”
Something knocked against his leather boot. “You’re welcome to join me down here, lad. The view is splendid!”
Prying his gaze from the Orloj, Theodore sought the origin of Mrs. Stanton’s voice and found her looking comfortable as you please—on the ruddy ground! With carpetbags situated beneath her head and shoulders in lieu of pillows, Mrs. S. stretched upon the cobbles, skirt arranged modestly and bonnet tied neatly, while Fred curled about her gloved hands like an ermine muff. Just like,exceptfor the matter of breathing.
Theodore gaped as he faced Miss Stanton, who seemed atypically unfazed.
Miss Stanton smiled at her mother with an expression that fastened a gear of annoyance to the stronger axis of love. “Mum’s neck has always been in a fidgety way, and when it began to act up after the first parade, she decided to make herself more comfortable.”
Right-oh, classic Mrs. S. logic. But why wasn’t her overly protective daughter in a panic? “And you’re fine with this because ...?”
“The number of people are few. I’m here to ensure no one treads upon her.” Pausing, Miss Stanton adopted a hushed tone. “And because I’ve found it’s beneficial to indulge Mum’s whims whenever I can do so safely. Makes her more inclined to heed my ‘vain imaginings of impending doom’ when a truly dangerous situation arises.”
Theodore arched a brow. He couldn’t imagine Mrs. S. ever getting herself into any real peril. “Such as?”
“Such as the incident last summer when Mum shackled herself in irons to the door of a taxidermy shop.”
A snort lodged in his nose. “She didn’t.”
“Mum’s rallying cry for justice was ‘You would not stuff your sons and daughters. You ought not stuff God’s deer and otters.’”
Theodore choked back a laugh but couldn’t keep from grinning. If he hadn’t already been smitten by the amiable and unique Mrs. S., he was now, for sure and certain!
