Before we make our way home, it is my prayer that you will release all white-knuckled illusions of being in control and revel in the freedom Jesus came to give you. May you rest assured that Emmanuel is God, so you don’t have to be.
Bear with me as we make one fiNal stop in a place where the memory of young lOve lingers and laughteR bubbles forth like a Marvelous fountAin.
Your devoted,
Grand
Slowly, the pieces of Grand’s clue came together in her mind, and Clara smiled at the utter perfection of the last location of their merry scavenger hunt. She tucked the note into her pocket and hugged the journal to her heart.Abide with me tonight, Lord.Help me to sleep. And take care of them forme, will you? Papa, Mum, Grand ... and Theodore. Reunite usin your way and time. Deliver me byyourmight and main.
Knots unwound in Clara’s shoulders as she rolled against the wall and drifted to sleep.
CHAPTER
34
Now Theodore remembered why talking to God was so dashed frustrating—the Almighty had a penchant for answering him with a particularly profane four-letter word.
Wait.
The word bristled over Theodore’s skin like a rough woolen blanket, each letter a prickly fiber woven into a heavy encumbrance that itched and irritated and warmed at all once. Why God would answer his prayer for a course of action with a directive to be still, he couldn’t fathom. But he’d returned to the inn all the same. It was not his place to understand, but to obey. This time, things would be done His way.
Even if that four-letter word made him break out in hives.
With a haggard sigh, Theodore bolted the lock, wincing as the metal clanked into place. A glance over his shoulder reassured Mrs. S. still slept despite the disturbance. That was a mercy. The longer she slept, the longer he could avoid having to explain why he’d returned without her daughter.
He checked the compress on her head wound. The one he’d applied had been exchanged for a different cloth containing some sort of poultice. He must thank the innkeeper for tending to Mrs. S. as he’d promised. There were decent people in the world yet. Like his new friends in the Strasbourg police, who even now carried on with the search for Miss Stanton and stood guard at the inn’s front door.
Curled about Mrs. Stanton’s hands, Fred lifted his head and squeaked in greeting. Theodore gave the faithful ermine a scratch between the ears, shaking his head at the shy turtle still tucked in the chamber pot on the bedside table. He then sought out the fox cubs, confirming that none of the scamps had slipped out as he entered. Todd slept under the bed, Honorine slept in an open drawer, and wide-eyed Phileas dangled from a curtain rod overhead.
“Thanks for keeping watch in my absence,” Theodore whispered, then he grabbed the room’s lone chair and positioned it before the locked entry. He removed his leather boot and bronze prosthetic before leaning back to rest his head against the door. No rat was getting past him this time. Heaving a sigh, he closed his eyes. Now to follow His orders and wait.
Guttural snorts disturbed the morning stillness. By jove, but Mrs. S. could snore with the best of them. The noise was practically reverberating through his skull. Snort, snort, snooooor—
“Scoot, bonny boar! Root for truffles elsewhere.”
A thwunk to Theodore’s leg woke him with a start. Sunshine overwhelmed his eyes with brilliant white. He blinked as his eyes focused on the slight form of Mrs. S. positioned with a hand on either hip. Dark tresses streaked with gray tumbled about her shoulders. She quirked a smile. “My, lad, but you can snore with the best of them.”
His huff of indignation gave way to a yawn. “I don’t ... snore.”
“And I’m a chimney sweep from Liverpool.” Mrs. Stanton’s smile faltered and, with a wobble, fell. “Any news?”
The frailty in those small words gored the very heart of him. “We never did catch up to them last night. I ... I returned to the inn about two hours ago, but the police assured me they’d continue to scour the city’s every cobble.”
Mrs. S. secured his hand and squeezed it three times. “It’s a new day, son.”
That it was. Theodore’s jaw unclenched as he accepted the grace offered him. For today he’d not be leaning on a support carved by his own hand.Strengthen us, Lord. Strengthen me.
Squaring her shoulders, Mrs. S. swatted his leg. “Boots on and move out, my boy. You’re keeping me from my breakfast, which is hazardous for all concerned.”
“Breakfast?” Emptiness clawed at his stomach. A painful reminder he’d not eaten since afternoon teayesterday. He prayed Miss Stanton wasn’t as hungry as he this morn. He slipped on his boot, reattached the prosthetic to his knee, and stood with a groan. Aches stiffened his neck into a rusted axle that creaked upon rotation. Unjust punishment for his protective stance by the door. Wait ... was someone knocking?
With him out of the way, Mrs. S. moved to open the door, but his quick hand stilled hers upon the knob. She raised a dark brow. “You stand upon a crumbling cliff ledge, son. I’m not a good Christian woman until after my tea and toast.”
“Understood. Just let me verify that tea and toast are the only chaps behind this door before you go charging through it. Miss Stanton would want me to do as much.”
Mrs. Stanton’s bottom lip quivered, but she nodded.
Theodore pressed his ear to the door. “Identify yourself.”
