Free The Aviary by Kathleen O'Dell Page A

honeycreeper heard it too and circled madly in his makeshift cage. His call was thin and high-pitched.
    “Tsip! Tsip!”
    She put her hand on top of the colander and spoke calmly. “Don’t worry. The cat won’t get you. Ruby has him.”
    “Tsip! Tsip!”
    “I’ll keep you safe, all right? Or should I say, ‘Tsip-tsip’?”
    The bird stopped to look at Clara from one eye, then the other.
    “Tsip?”
she said again. “What a funny word. I wonder what you mean.”
    At once, Clara sensed someone behind her. Her mother stood with her arms folded.
    “You’re drenched, Clara. And would you mind telling me what has you talking to the pots and pans?”
    “There’s a bird in here,” she said. “One of the Glendoveer birds.”
    “No.” Harriet peered in through the holes and turned wary. “He’s wobbling. Am I seeing an injury?”
    “A cat got in the cage.”
    “Merciful heavens!”
    Clara thought her mother might collapse. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
    “No, dear, I’m sure it wasn’t.”
    When Ruby came in, she had the kitten wrapped tightly in a rag. “This is the little troublemaker,” she said.
    “Take him out, Ruby!” Harriet demanded.
    “But he’s injured, Mama,” said Clara.
    “Yes, he is,” Ruby said. “And the dumb beast has no more sense than a flea. Can you imagine being a cat sneaking into a cage full of big, angry birds when you yourself have no claws to speak of?”
    “No claws?” said Clara. “Then he
must
be Daphne’s cat!”
    Ruby pursed her lips as her mother raised an eyebrow. “And who would Daphne be?”
    Clara gulped. “The … the girl two houses over. Her mother delivered the food, and …”
    “Yes?”
    “That’s when she told me about the cat! That it was blue and had no claws!”
    Ruby peeked into her bundle. “I declare. Why, the cat
is
blue.” She folded back the rag and let the creature poke his head out. “And such beautiful golden eyes. What do you think of that?”
    Seeing Ruby smile made Clara calm again. She reached over to where the cat nestled against Ruby’s ample bosom and stroked his head. “I suppose we should take the cat back to his house?”
    Ruby appeared ready to agree, and Clara was already picturing the triumphant moment when she showed Daphne the wound on her head.
    “No,” her mother said simply.
    The word immobilized Clara.
    “Now, Harriet, do be reasonable,” Ruby said. “What harm can come of walking two houses over?”
    “Yes, Mama! What harm?”
    As Harriet drew herself up, Clara could feel herself shrink. Her mother had a way of inhaling half the air from the room and holding it quietly in her bones.
    “Is this a mutiny? Ruby, you know how I love and appreciate you, but you may not enter into controversies between me and my daughter.”
    “Understood,” Ruby said. Then with a curtsy:
“Ma’am.”
    Clara’s mother flinched at the word. “I don’t mean to be …” She looked quickly from Ruby to Clara. “You’ve obviously had a lot of excitement this morning already. I want you to rest and recover yourself. Please. Go and lie down now.”
    Clara tramped to her room, flung herself on the bed, and studied the water-stained ceiling. Clara loved her mother, and Ruby too. But she needed more. Not more love for herself, but more in life to love.
    Maybe this was how Mrs. Glendoveer felt when she sneaked out to the tent shows and the theaters to watch the magicians and the traveling actors. She could imagine how young Cenelia’s spirit expanded with fear and expectation as she waited outside George Glendoveer’s door, wanting nothing more than to be taken away.
    She also remembered Mrs. Glendoveer’s warning: holdyour family close, or you will bring down upon yourself a lifetime of regret.
    Did that mean that Clara should always mind her mother? Did it mean she was never to have a life of her own?
    “Mrs. Glendoveer,” she said, “I want to do as you asked.” She tried to set her mind right. But it was her