Clara heaved a shaky sigh. She was safe. Mum was safe. Now she could breathe ... so why was it so hard to move? Forcing one foot in front of the other, she trudged until the distance between them vanished and then sank onto the stone step just below Mum. Clara seized her gloved hand, clinging to the fuchsia-hued silk with the last of her strength.
“Good gracious, ducky. Did you take a dust bath?” Mum chuckled as three fox kits nestled in the folds of her skirt. “While the practice does wonders for pachyderms, I wouldn’t suggest it for a human’s toilette.”
Though she couldn’t chuckle at Mum’s oblivious remark, neither could she be irritated by it. Clara squeezed Mum’shand three times.God, please forgive me for letting go of her. I’ll never be so thoughtlessagain.
Mum squeezed back four times and then gasped. “Mercy, where are my manners? I’ve neglected introductions.” She gestured to each fox cub in turn. “Clara Marie, I would like you to meet Phileas, Honorine, and Todd.”
The foxes, whose eyes were just beginning to open, squirmed in Mum’s lap, nudging one another with tiny black noses. She scooped up Honorine and placed a kiss on her fluffy brown brow. “Our meeting was not by chance but rather a case of divine intervention. You see, back on the bridge, I saw a man with a canvas sack flung over his shoulder and noticed that the bag moved with life. I knew straightaway what the man was about, so I flew to intervene. I confronted the fellow—”
“By yourself?” Clara’s stomach clenched.
“Of course not, ducky. I was led forth by the God of justice. As I was saying, I confronted the fellow just as he was about to toss the whimpering sack over the bridge. He tried to excuse his dastardly intentions, explaining that a vixen had made a den of his larder and was pilfering food. Can you believe he confessed to murdering the innocent creature, imagining I’d sympathize? Well, my sympathies gave his shin a sound kick and reveled in his yowl as the sack fell into my hands. Took us a while to lose him, but we did it. Didn’t we, dears?”
Reuniting Honorine with her brothers, Mum shook her head. “The poor things have no idea they’re orphans now.” She whispered, “Mother fox is shrouded in the sack just there, and she will, of course, require a proper burial. Fred and I have already begun work on her eulogy.”
Leave it to Mum to incite irritation with funeral preparations for a fox. Clara wet her grit-coated lips, her voice reduced to a croak. “Mum ... you can’t just go running off like that—in a foreign country, no less—without a word. I mightnever have found you. As we continue our journey, you must hold my hand. How am I to keep you safe otherwise?”
Mum chuckled. “Oh, ducky, your hands aren’t the ones that keep me. That task is far beyond your control.”
The terrifying notion wreaked havoc on Clara’s nerves, and she grasped Mum’s fingers tighter to keep her own steady. “Please, for my sake, just promise to hold my hand? I need ... I need to know you’re close. Your care and well-being are my responsibility.”
Beneath the shade of her bonnet, Mum’s gaze pierced. “Listen here. Little Atlas may be your nickname, but it is not your identity. You were never meant to carry the world on your shoulders. You are not God.”
Clara’s jaw slackened. “Of course not. When have I ever made such a claim?”
“In word, never. But in deed, you’ve proclaimed yourself to be without need of a savior—human or divine—every hour of every day since you broke things off with Mr. Forrester. In assuming the role of a self-reliant Titan, you’ve isolated yourself from the world and worn yourself ragged. Body, mind, and soul.”
“I’m n-not worn ragged. I’m doing just fine.” How could Mum say such things?
“Are you, now? Then explain what has done this to my ducky?” Mum directed Clara’s gaze to the nearby shop window.
All of Clara’s breath escaped her lungs in a single exhale, heavy and long. The woman reflected at her in the fractured windowpane was a stranger. A corpse she could not identify. Yet, somehow, she could feel the weary slump in her shoulders. The ache in her bones. She could feel the frailty of her ashen skin that exposed a graveyard of blue veins. A tear trailed down the woman’s cheek, slicking across the broken pane, before it fell upon Clara’s blanched knuckles. Heavenabove, when had this happened? How could she have wasted away and not known?
A warm and steady hand cupped Clara’s chin, lifting her gaze to glistening blue eyes. Mum rubbed a thumb back and forth along her jaw. “You need to embrace the starry-eyed wanderlust God has placed in you. Explore the wonders of the world and letHimbe the one to carry it. Let Him be the one to carryus.”
But if she wasn’t capable of taking care of her own family, what good was she? Clara angled on the step to face the busy street, her clenched hand unwilling to relax its hold of Mum’s. “We need to find Mr. Arthur and make our way to the station before we miss the day’s last train.”
“All in good time, ducky. Our first priority is the dearly departed vixen. I should like to consult with Arthur regarding the order of service. I have some hymns in mind, but if the lad doesn’t know all the verses, he might prefer to read from the Psalms. Twenty-three is fitting but rather overused, so I’d be inclined to suggest forty-two. Oh, and after the funeral, we’ll need to secure food and a manner of conveyance for the little ones.”
As was its wont, the vein along Clara’s temple twitched. “You cannot mean to take the kits along.”
“You cannot mean to leave them behind? They’re much too young to be released now. Of course, we’ll have to release the dears before they come of age to hunt and consume meat.” Mum covered Fred’s ears with a protective hand and whispered, “Foxes being the natural predator of the ermine and all.” Her hand lowered to her lap as her voice rose, resolute. “But for the time being, the kits must remain in our care.”
A sigh took the starch out of Clara’s shoulders. “They will never allow them on the train. We barely manage to smuggle Fred as it is. How do you mean to explain the presence of three wiggly, whimpering fox kits?”
Mum shrugged. “We’ll figure something out.”
Inevitably, that phrase always resulted in Mum throwing aside social convention and leaving Clara to extricate them from the consequences. On a normal day, she could manage, but today ... today she was just so tired. “They can’t come. Plain and simple.”
Mum snatched her hand away. “If we don’t bring the kits along and nurse them, they’ll die. I shan’t abandon them. If needs must, I’ll stay behind to nurture them until they can be freed in the country.”
“That would take weeks.” And they couldn’t afford to linger in Prague that long. Not with Mr. Forrester bent on tracking them down.
Mum held her head high as if she were Joan of Arc about to be burned at the stake. “Life is worth protecting at all costs. I’m willing to sacrifice my time to preserve it.”
Perfect. Clara knew that look. Now Mum would never budge.
Unless she could think of a way to sneak three fox kits aboard a passenger train.
